InsaneJournal

"Are you certain we can find a way to reverse this?” asked Kwaaku softly to Hresden as the group let their mounts amble towards Orgrimmar from the Ashenvale border. The elf’s ears twitched and he twisted his head around to glance at the pair riding solemnly at the back of the group.

Kalya’s normal cheerfulness had evaporated entirely after the strike of the spell in Winterspring, which made the spirits of the entire party drop. Necronim had turned to brooding in response to him being unable to do anything at all to comfort the girl.

And all through the ride across Azshara back to Orgrimmar, the spell had spread. On both of them now was a swath of changed flesh that started at their stomachs and traveled up their left sides across the back to the shoulder.

“Iwill find a way,” snarled Hresden. “Even if I have to find this bastard doing this to them and wring the spell out of him!” He then rose in his saddle slightly and waved to the two guards at the back gate, who saluted in return. With a nod, he turned to the Tauren, saying, “I’m going to ride ahead and find a few to consult. I assume you all will go to see the Warchief?”

Kwaaku nodded and Hresden continued, “I’ll see you there then. Hah!” With a flick of his reins, the undead horse surged forward and galloped across the bridge into Orgrimmar with a clatter of hooves. Necronim glanced up at the sound and asked, “Where…”

“He is going to find those to ask what can be done,” replied the Tauren. He paused and nodded slightly towards the spot at the rogue’s shoulder where his tunic had slipped back to reveal a slight patch where tanned skin showed. “Nec, it’s showing.”

Necronim grunted and tugged cloth and leather over the spot, sinking further down in his saddle. Then he turned worriedly to look at Scyllaine as she made a choking noise and peered at her. Since Azshara, she had been acting strangely on and off and had not yet explained to him why.

“Scy?” he queried.

She looked at him and he saw the fear in her eyes easily. One hand shifted slightly and he winced at what it might mean once they reached Grommash Hold to speak with the Warchief again. Reaching out, he took her hand and murmured, “Don’t worry. I won’t let you hurt anyone.”

Kwaaku turned in fear as they entered the Valley of Spirits and even Kalya lifted her head. The young woman’s face shifted to worry and she murmured, “Oh, Light, Scyllaine…”

“You are certain?” asked the Tauren, remembering what had been said when Necronim had first been dragged before the Warchief.

The Forsaken woman nodded in response then looked desperately at the rogue, gabbling in fear, and he leaned towards her. “I am not going to let you hurt anyone, Scy. And I am not going to let anyone hurt you, either. I promise.”

She managed to smile at him through the fear then let go of his hand, patting it before she gripped to her saddle tightly. Necronim watched her carefully as they continued on then walked beside her as they dismounted in front of the Hold and began walking within. When she started to shake, Kwaaku loomed up behind her but only Necronim lightly touched her as the kept walking.

Scyllaine turned desperately towards the rogue as they heard Sylvanas’ voice and he stared back at her as her hands fumbled for his. She made a noise in her throat, alerting the guards around them and they moved forward with hands reaching for their weapons. Necronim looked at them, begging them not to interfere just yet, then shifted his attention back to Scyllaine.

Kwaaku gently laid his hands on her shaking shoulders and she sobbed, drawing the attention of the two leaders now. Sylvanas drew herself up straight and demanded, “What is going on? You, rogue, I…”

“Do not demand anything of me, Quel’dorei,” snarled Necronim. He twisted his head around to glare at her, hands still gripping Scyllaine’s. “Banshee Queen you may be but you are not my queen. And you have done nothing to stop this!”

Scyllaine gasped then sagged forward against Necronim, who stiffened. Kwaaku tugged her back quickly and, as he did, she snarled back to life and tried to tear across the room towards Sylvanas. The big Tauren struggled to shove her to the ground and the Forsaken lunged for her, shouting at the guards, “Get her down, down!”

“Do not harm her!” bellowed Thrall even as Sylvanas protested, “She is gone!”

“Don’t you dare try to hurt her!” shrieked Kalya, taking a step forward angrily around the group struggling to hold Scyllaine down. “Don’t you dare!”

The Banshee Queen stiffened then snarled, “What makes you think you can command me, little girl?”

“Someone has to stand up to you!”

“Wretched little…”

“SILENCE!” bellowed Thrall. He glared at Sylvanas as he snapped, “Be quiet, both of you. Stormhorn, Necronim, kindly move away and allow my guards to take her. I promise you that she will not be harmed.”

Kwaaku grunted then nodded to the guards around him as he was the one mostly keeping Scyllaine still. The orcs grunted then surged forward and the big Tauren moved back, them together managing to get a good hold on the Forsaken woman. They tugged her upright, arms wrenched behind her to be bound with one holding her neck tightly to keep her from biting any of them, and Necronim stood in front of her. He stared into her eyes gone feral for a long moment then said softly, “I’ll keep my promise, Scy.” As she snarled back, he turned away as the guards wrestled her out of the Hold and strode forward to where Sylvanas stood, marching right up to her.

She sniffed and glared down at him, he returning the look inch for inch. Then he snarled, “You abandoned our kind to their fate and ripped into my mind. Now I lay Scyllaine’s fate at your feet, Sylvanas.”

“I did not do this,” she hissed.

“Oh, of that I am well aware,” snapped Necronim. “I’ve spoken to the bastard doing this – he seems awfully fond of me for some reason. What I want to know is what enemies we’ve made – thatyou have made – and where they are.” He clenched a fist and viciously finished, “Because I want to find him and rip out his damn throat for what he’s done.”

Sylvanas scowled then spat, “This person has taken from me as well, rogue.”

“I HAVE A NAME!” he roared, cutting anything else she was going to say off. “I AM NECRONIM! AND SARAN TATHDYL! AND, DAMNIT, YOU WILL CALL ME BY ONE OF THEM!”

There was a stunned pause within the room then Kalya breathed, “Saran,” her voice breaking the silence. Sylvanas stiffed and hissed, “Very well then, Necronim. It seems we must work together, we last two.”

“Last…” Necronim trailed off then hissed, “Resden. He went the same as the rest.”

“He is safe,” assured Thrall, raising a hand. “Your friend shall be taken to the same place where he is being held. Though…it is strange that all have reverted but the two of you.”

The wraith’s words came back to him, making Necronim shiver. He then said, “We came across the minions of the one doing this in Azshara. It said I was different than the others…but it didn’t bother to tell me just how that was.”

Sylvanas tilted her head to the side and asked, “What do you suppose it meant?”

“I assumed it meant the fact that despite how much I denied it and took another name, I was still Saran Tathdyl. I am still Saran Tathdyl. Most of the Forsaken truly did forget who they once were or moved on to an entirely new existence, trying to forget their old one. I tried…but I couldn’t.”

He shook his head then asked again, “Is there anyone that could do this?”

“A wizard of the Kirin Tor could be the one,” she replied. Then Sylvanas narrowed her eyes at him, hissing, “But you cannot hope to defeat the one doing this.”

“Watch me,” snarled Necronim. “I’ve got plenty of motivation.”

“And what sort of motivation would that be?”

“Two of the people I call ‘friend’ have been taken and that pisses me off. Whoever is doing this wants me under his thumb apparently and I bow to no one. Lastly…” Necronim turned towards Kalya with a questioning glance and she nodded weakly, giving him permission to let the spell be known. “Lastly, he has done this.”

Reaching up, he drew back his vest and tunic to show the changed skin of his shoulder, all in the room staring at the sight. Then Kalya sniffed and pulled her own clothes down as well to reveal the pallid flesh on her own.

Sylvanas stared as Thrall glanced between them, murmuring, “Changed between them…”

“Yes,” confirmed Necronim. “He wanted to punish me for not jumping for joy at his offer so he did this.”

“Is it only flesh?” breathed the Banshee Queen in a horrified voice.

“So far, yes, but that could change at any time now.”

“So as you see,” stated Kalya, moving to stand next to the rogue, “we have every motivation to find the one doing this and stop him.”

“So we see indeed,” said Thrall. “I will give you all the help I can.”

Sylvanas blinked then bowed her head as she breathed, “As shall I.”

Necronim stared at her for a long moment then growled, “I will never forget what you did to me. But maybe I can forgive you if you care for the forgiveness of a murderer.”

“Saran!” scolded Kalya, hating every time he called himself that. Even if it was true from what she had heard from Kwaaku. He smiled slightly in apology then waited until Sylvanas nodded curtly before he turned away from them.

“If that’s all then, we have a discussion with a mage to get to,” he said. But as he took a step forward, both he and Kalya abruptly choked and convulsed to the floor, Kwaaku rushing to the both of them.

“What is going on?” demanded Sylvanas.

“I do not know!” bellowed the Tauren back. He lifted the young woman up in his arms as she flailed wildly then watched with shock as she stiffened, gasping vainly for air. In realization, he fumbled at her tunic to open it and tugged her shirt down to watch the dead flesh creeping further across hers. Over her heart. “She’s…she’s dying,” he breathed.

“Its just the spell!” shouted Hresden, running in from where he had been standing in the doorway watching and waiting for a moment to enter. Behind him came Caren and several others, all casters of some sort. “Quickly get her! She’s the one I’m worried about! If what I think is happening really is we need to keep her alive!”

“She’s not alive!” exclaimed Kwaaku.

“Her heart isn’t but her body still is!”

“This is very irregular, Hresden,” said one of the priests as he extended his hands over Kalya’s body as she was laid flat again.

“With me you should have known it would be. Caren, please, with me on Necronim.”

The druid nodded and knelt next to the still convulsing rogue, one hand resting on his chest. Her eyes drifted closed for a moment then she said, “His heart beats…but the rest struggles to remain dead.”

“It is the opposite with her!” exclaimed the priest as he bent over Kalya. “It would be a mercy to…”

“We are not killing them!” bellowed Hresden. “We are going to keep them alive either until we figure out to reverse this damn spell or they come to. Is that CLEAR, Windall?”

The Blood Elf twitched then nodded quickly. “Y-yes, Hresden.”

“Good. Caren, what do you think?”

“This is an abomination,” replied the druid, her hand still on Necronim’s chest. “But…I think I have an idea.”

“An idea for what?” asked a young shaman who leaned near.

“To perhaps accelerate this change so they may survive.” A green glow enveloped her hand then as she continued, “We must keep them alive.”

“You may remain here with them,” said Thrall, causing all of the casters to look up with sudden realization of where they were at. The Warchief smiled tightly before barking to his guards, “Bring in bedding for all here! And anything they need should be gotten upon the first asking.”

His blue gaze shifted to Hresden, who straightened up, and he continued, “Do what you can for them. They may be the only way we can find the one that has done this and stop it.”

“I will do my best,” swore the mage. He then rose to his feet and snapped, “Alright, I want four healers on both of them at all times and we can switch around between in shifts of two hours. When not healing, I want everyone working on Caren’s idea in every moment you’ve got.”

He quickly snapped off the names of four healers to move to Necronim, allowing Caren to begin explaining her idea. As she settled in with the mages and one warlock near her, Hresden walked over to where Kwaaku had sagged against a wall.

“They’ll be alright,” he assured as he crouched down next to the big Tauren.

“I felt her die,” murmured Kwaaku mournfully. His single eye fixed on the elf and he repeated, “I felt her heart die, Hres.”

Hresden frowned and reached forward to grasp the huge shoulder, snarling, “They will both live through this, I promise you!”

“But they will never be the same.”

“No. No, they will not.”

Kwaaku sighed then looked sadly towards the two still forms then said, “He will never forgive himself. Not now. Not for this.”

“This wasn’t his fault,” protested Hresden.

“Doesn’t matter,” rumbled the Tauren. “It…it is just who he is.”

The mage frowned then squeezed the huge shoulder again before he moved to Caren’s side, falling to one knee next to her. As he listened to her, his gaze shifted to the fallen pair, eyes roving over the continuously creeping flesh.

And he made a silent promise that he would figure this out – even if he had to kill himself trying.