“I was actually quite lucky” he said as he lifted a tea kettle and poured the boiling water into a cup of quilboar blood.
Instinctually he offered the aspiring Pandaren Loremaster a cup but she declined, a note of masked but distinct incredulity on her face.
“But you still clearly fell victim to the Plague” the Pandaren said as the Forsaken Cleric added citrus and honey to his drink, stirring it with a delicate burst of Light magic.
“Yes. But my killer was bread. Grain treachery is a far kinder killer than a ghoul’s claws. To say nothing of those poor souls that got smashed by abominations” the Forsaken replied, returning to his chair.
“And that’s why you feel your transition to undeath was lucky?”
“Well, it certainly made maintaining my body considerably easier. But no. I didn’t have children. And I didn’t turn anywhere near loved ones.”
“And why would that matter?”
“Have you ever wanted to kill someone?”
“Wha-”
“I mean really wanted to kill someone. I don’t need or want reasoning I’m asking if you ever desperately wanted someone dead”
“No”
“Then you’ll never understand. The Lich King was devious. It wasn’t enough that we were his weapons, we had to delight in his depravity”
“Could you elaborate?”
“Well simply put it was ecstasy. I don’t remember my victims well. I know it was some farmers on the outskirts of Stratholme. And some Farstriders in Quel’Thalas. But I remember the absolute elation I felt at spreading his plague, at spreading his will. It’s a hazy half remembered violent dream. But the pleasure - that I remember quite distinctly”
The Pandaren paused, “So you enjoyed being a ghoul?”
The Cleric chuckled.
“Any agency on my part was forfeit. We were his puppets. And he gave us immense incentive to kill. Do you see now why I call myself lucky?”
The Pandaren gave a light shrug.
“Because others ate their husbands, wives, parents and children. And while it wasn’t their will, they know deep down they delighted in every second of it”