InsaneJournal

Necronim came to consciousness slowly, trying desperately to cling to it as his sister had done to their mother’s skirts. He paused then, thinking of her, as he had not done in so long – not since those first few months when he had tried to kill himself after he regained control of his body.

“Abi,” he murmured, his heart aching. She had been only seven years old, fourteen years younger than him when he had been caught and arrested, thrown into the Deeps to rot after being branded. If she had lived she would have been nineteen now…

Instead he had failed her and his mother as well as shamed the men and women of SI:7 that had raised him because his mother could not afford to.

Was that why he had been cursed to this unlife?

There was a garbled noise from above him then, cutting off his line of thought, and he opened one eye to find Scyllaine leaned over him, her face close to his. She smiled and patted his forehead gently with her hand, the gray-green of her wasted flesh making him think painfully of the ghoul’s, and gabbled nonsense noises again. He didn’t know exactly what she was saying but he had been around her long enough to figure out the sounds of her voice to know the emotion in them.

“Don’t worry, Scy,” he muttered, “I’m alright.”

She cocked her head, leaning back a little, and her expression told him that she did not believe that for one moment. And that was good, because he didn’t believe that either.

“Okay,” he admitted painfully, “I’m not. But that doesn’t matter.”

Scyllaine grunted, a low noise no woman should be able to make, and gave a slight shove with the heel of her hand into his chest. He bit down a scream at the pain that ripped through what was left of his nerves, writhing away from her hand. She followed him, leaning close down over him, and stared hard at him.

“Rrrrnotch arrrriht,” she managed to force out through her ruined throat. He gave her a sad smile and reached up to grasp her chain mail coated arm.

“No, I’m not alright,” he agreed. “But I can’t let this little thing stop me, Scy. I have to know who’s doing this. Because he – or she – is trying their damnedest to get me under their control and probably you as well even if you don’t know it.”

She blinked at that, sinking back into a cross-legged seat beside him. Then she leaned off to the side and scraped something against a rock with one of the pieces of charcoal she always carried. Necronim glanced at her scrawl of ‘Army?’ across the rock and nodded slowly, allowing it to sink in. She snarled in response and scribbled, ‘We’ll stop it’ and he grasped her other hand.

“I know.” Glancing towards the fire, he saw a sleeping shape wrapped in blankets but none of a Tauren’s great bulk. “Where is Kwaaku?”

‘Burials’ scrawled Scyllaine then she tucked the charcoal back into a pouch at her belt. She then glanced towards Kalya’s sleeping form and made a noise in the back of her throat before pointing between them and making a cringing motion away from him. He closed his eyes in pain and nodded, mumbling, “I figured as much. She’s right to fear me, Scy. Maybe…maybe a little fear is what she needs to let me go.”

The warrior gave him a little shrug then flipped one hand through a few motions. He grunted in response, waving her off with, “I don’t care if she’s happy loving me, I can’t give her a damned thing.”

Scyllaine shrugged again then stiffened briefly before relaxing as Kwaaku appeared out of the dark into the light of the fire. The big Tauren brushed thick clods of dirt from his hands then smiled as he saw the rogue was awake.

“Good to see you, Nec,” he rumbled as he walked over. He moved lightly for such a huge creature with hooves that could crush a wolf’s skull in and did not wake Kalya in his passage. “I buried them.”

“You buried ghoul’s?” snarled Necronim. “They don’t deserve the respect of such.”

Kwaaku gave him a mournful look at that. “But the being’s they once were do,” he said softly.

Wincing, he acceded to the correctness of that comment with a slight nod. “Sorry,” he muttered. “I just…I’m used to hating them and thinking of them as nothing but ravenous beasts. Its hard to see beyond that to think of who they may have once been.”

“Understandable.”

The Tauren then crouched down and said, “Nec…you spoke of your mother and sister earlier.”

Necronim flinched at that, visibly drawing in on himself as old guilt raised its head again. Then he glanced at Kalya, wondering how she had taken that. And…by the Light, what had Kwaa told her?

“Kwaa,” he growled slowly, glaring.

“I could not leave her with no explanation,” answered Kwaaku mournfully. “She had just seen you fall back onto that creature and then have a panic attack at the sight of the gore. She needed to know something.”

“Not that!” spat Necronim. “Damn you, Kwaa, you had no right! Just as Sylvanas had no right by trying to drag information out of me! My past is mine to tell, damnit!”

“And when would you have told her, hmm?”

The question was like a slap in the face and his anger evaporated in the wake of it. Drawing in on himself again, the rogue muttered, “I would have.” Even as he said it he winced because he knew deep down that he wouldn’t have. What he had done to his mother and sister were his own personal burdens in his opinion and only he needed to carry the weight of them.

“Exactly,” rumbled Kwaaku. He then sighed, adding, “Nec, you must trust someone besides me someday.”

“I trust her fine, Kwaa,” spat Necronim. He rolled onto his side, facing away from the fire, and finished, “I just…I just don’t want her to know some of the things I’ve done.”

“She knows some.”

“I don’t want her to know I came to enjoy killing people,” growled the rogue, curling up underneath the blanket thrown over him. “That I allowed my sister to die. I didn’t have to be taken by the Plague to be a monster, Kwaa…I was well on the path to be one before even then.”

“Nec…”

“Please. Please, leave me alone.”

A grunt answered that then he heard Kwaaku get up and move back towards the fire. Scyllaine followed but her fingers gently brushed his shoulder before she fully moved away, he flinching away from the touch.

Sighing heavily, Necronim closed his eyes and did his best to clear his mind. Weariness crept up moments later and he drifted off into blessed unconsciousness again.

This time, he welcomed it.

Though it seemed only moments later that it was shattered. Scyllaine’s scream startled him upright and he twisted around to see one of the three pale riders from earlier crouched over a still sleeping Kalya, a knife in hand. It turned and smiled at him before reaching out to slash away a portion of her hair with the blade, tucking it away somewhere on its person.

Necronim scrambled upright with a roar, lunging across the distance at the pale rider, but was tossed aside easily. The pale, red-eyed wraith landed on top of him a moment later, holding him down, and pressed the blade of the knife against his throat.

“Be still, brother,” it hissed. “This blow will not kill you if I strike but it would hurt very much.”

He stilled and just lifted a hand to ward off Kwaaku and Scyllaine, who were standing at the ready. The big Tauren grunted, fists clenching around his fighting claws, then carefully pulled a now awake Kalya behind him.

“Nec,” he growled.

“Stay,” bade the wraith. “I speak with him, not you, beast.”

Necronim stared hard at Kwaaku, willing him not to move, then growled at the figure above him, “What do you want?”

The wraith turned its attention back to him and smiled coldly.

“Our master had hoped you would come around, brother,” it replied. “You are different…like us.”

“I am nothing like you,” spat the Forsaken.

It laughed hoarsely at that then leaned close to his face, purring, “Did you think we were human first, brother? No, no…we were Forsaken.”

Necronim’s eyes widened at that and the wraith continued, “This is what you could expect by joining us.” Lifting a hand, it let him stare at the clear, unbroken skin – so different from his hands with the bones showing almost entirely. “It is so much better than this existence you insist on holding onto. This…half life.”

“Saran, no,” hissed Kalya, peering around Kwaaku with her blanket clutched tightly around her. The wraith twisted around to look at her then grinned down at Necronim.

“Such a beautiful woman,” he said softly. “Alas, brother, it is not to be.”

“You touch her and I’ll…”

“You’ll what, brother? Kill me? You don’t have the power – not as you are at least.” The wraith leaned forward to his ear and whispered, “Your kind are nothing to me and mine. If you would just give in to the master…”

Necronim snarled and spat, “Never!”

“Well then, brother, you shall have to be punished. And – alas – your beautiful woman shall have to suffer with you as according to the master’s plans.”

“Don’t you touch her!”

It laughed and tried to cup his cheek but he twitched away, forgetting the knife at his throat. The blade dug into his skin, causing a trail of black blood to flow downward into the grass, but he didn’t really seem to notice. Necronim lunged upward with one hand and grabbed at the wraith’s throat, fingers twisting into claws as he snarled animally.

“You don’t touch her,” he spat.

The wraith smiled and casually lifted its hand, easily tugging his away from its throat. Then it leaned down, purring, “We don’t need to touch her for what we wish to do, brother. I would suggest you give up this foolish quest of yours. You can’t hope to beat us.”

It then rose, grinned down at him, then dashed off into the darkness. Kwaaku started to charge after it but Necronim sat up, shouting, “Kwaa, no! Leave him!” The big Tauren skidded to a halt and turned to stare at him, the rogue explaining quickly, “You aren’t going to catch him anyway. Leave it be.”

“Are you alright?!” exclaimed Kalya as she rushed to his side, falling to her knees. He felt her hands at his throat and she breathed, “Oh Light, you’re bleeding…”

“I’m fine,” protested Necronim, waving her off. He stared past her after the wraith then looked down at his hands for a long moment before he snarled, “Bastard!”

“Nec, please,” begged Kalya, leaning forward to press one corner of her blanket against his throat. He shifted his gaze to her and wilted instantly at the panic in her eyes, nodding briefly. As she tore strips from her blanket and wiped away the dark ichor, making a pad of bits of it and binding it over the gash until it could heal, he closed his eyes and took comfort in her touch.

Then his eyes flew open and he reached up to her hair – to where the pale wraith had sliced away a lock of it. Her hand lifted to touch his and she breathed, “He took my hair. Why?”

He scowled, replying, “I don’t know. But I fully intend to find out why and…” At her sudden look of horror he paused and asked, “Kalya?”

She shook her head and reached out to his face…no, he realized, to his own hair. And when she pulled a fistful of it forward, he saw there was a ragged gash in it as well.

“Scy! Kwaa!” he barked. “Did he take hair from either of you?”

“No,” rumbled the Tauren.

Scyllaine shook her head and Necronim cursed, rising quickly to his feet. He reached for the carefully cleaned leathers folded next to the place where he’d been lying and quickly began tugging them on, ignoring the aches beginning to come back. As he buckled his belt and started tugging his tunic over his head, he hissed, “What are you three waiting on? Get ready! We have to go.”

“Go where?” asked Kalya. She pulled her blanket around her again and his gaze was drawn to the corner that was still stained with his dark blood.

“I don’t know!” he snapped back. Then he sighed and clutched a hand at his hair, hissing, “Why would they take our hair? And what punishment was he talking about?”

Kwaaku snorted and asked, “What of what he said?”

“Which?” demanded Necronim as he picked up the heavy leather kodohide vest Caren had made for him, snapping the ties together quickly across his chest.

“That he and those others we saw were once Forsaken, not human as we thought.”

“We were all once human!”

The Tauren frowned at that. “You know what I meant, Nec,” he rumbled softly.

The rogue snarled and spun towards him, exclaiming, “I don’t know, Kwaa! It…it doesn’t make any sense – not anything of what he said! Who is their master? Why do they want me of all people?! And why did they take hair from Kalya and me?”

Scyllaine gabbled then held up a scrap of parchment with ‘A spell?’ scrawled across it. Kwaaku narrowed his eyes as Kalya gasped then looked towards Necronim. “It could be,” he rumbled.

Necronim stared hard at the words then growled, “I don’t want to think about it.”

“Nec…”

“No, Kwaa!”

“Saran,” growled Kwaaku, stomping a hoof sharply against the ground, “listen to me. We must find out what sort of spell they plot. For Kalya’s sake!”

“And how do you plan to succeed in such a task?” snapped the Forsaken, ignoring the use of his real name.

The Tauren sighed before replying calmly, “We find Hresden and ask him if he knows of anything. He was taught in Quel’thalas and Theramore, if you recall, before he came to the Horde. So we might know a spell of this sort.”

Necronim scowled then nodded sharply.

“Fine,” he hissed, “we’ll go to him. I know his sister tends to camp in Mulgore around this time of the year – we can ask her were he is.”

With that he turned and scooped up the rest of his gear, kicking his way through the bushes towards the spot where their wolves were tied up. Scyllaine sighed heavily then continued to pack up their campsite as Kalya turned to look up at Kwaaku.

“Who is Hresden?” she asked. “You mentioned him before and I forgot to ask.”

“A High Elf who came to Orgrimmar when his elder sister fell to their magic addiction, becoming a Blood Elf,” replied the Tauren. “He has traveled with us a few times over the years and is a good friend. If it weren’t for the situation, Nec would be glad to have him along again.”

“They are good friends?”

“They understand each other in a strange way,” answered Kwaaku with a chuckle. He then smiled, adding, “Now get ready. We should be ready to ride out soon.”

“I thought we wouldn’t ride in the dark,” said Kalya as she folded the blanket and picked up her leather tunic where it had been folded up as a pillow.

Kwaaku sighed heavily and glanced towards where the wraith had disappeared into the darkness, his single eye weary.

“Things have changed,” he rumbled. “Things have changed a great deal, I am afraid.”