Forsaken Escalation

[Morgan Arc]

Hello! I have not written anything for a while, for which I apologize. But I took a long hiatus to really focus on writing out a plot line that I can really stick to and have fun writing. I have fallen into the trap that many writers fall for by writing many different prompts and failing to maintain interest and end up abandoning a story.

Not only is that a waste of time it is also unfair to the people who enjoyed those stories, so I took a long time to focus on what I wanted to write about and create a plotline.

This story will be a Worm/WoW Crossover. For those with no understanding of the Lore of World of Warcraft that is fine, I am starting a little before Classic WoW and intend to write (hopefully) towards the current events. The world will be slightly AU, but the overall larger plot will be the same.

Here is the culmination of the past two months' worth of plot design and written effort, which I hope you enjoy:

Forsaken Escalation

Chapter 1:

Tristfal Glades​

I stared up at the sky, my body still teeming with energy from the boost in power that Panacea had given me by jailbreaking my shard.

I could feel the vast expanse of energy coiling within me, begging to be released and to control.

Kephri was still there, restrained by the thin fabric of my subconscious, trying to reclaim control.

But I would not let her, for the last few moments of my life at least I would be in control over my own mind.

Due to this desire, I did nothing despite the fact that I could sense her approaching, the insects that buzzed around the forest alighting on her, following the fedora clad woman directly towards my position..

I did not turn or acknowledge her presence, we both knew why she was here.

"For what it is worth, I am sorry."

She wasn't, but I appreciated the sentiment as the cold barrel of a pistol pressed into the back of my head.

I did not hate Contessa, it had taken a monster to defeat Sion, but now that the threat was gone there was no use for one anymore. Now Kephri was just a loose cannon that could turn into a greater danger than the entity.

*Bang!*

I smiled as I tipped forward.

I could finally rest.

-???-​

"Caretaker! Caretaker, it seems we have another one!" A gruff voice shouted, jerking me from my sleep.

When had I fallen asleep?

I slowly opened my eyes, wincing as a torch was raised over my head, a pale faced man looking down at me with…glowing yellow eyes?

"Easy now, you will be confused for the first few moments. Try not to panic, that always ends badly." The man stated as another figure walked up.

I slowly sat up, blinking as I realized that I was not in a bed or even a cot but a grave. How did I get here?

I felt…strange. I was cold, but there seemed to be something missing, a warmth that I had felt throughout my life that I only realized was not there when it was gone.

What was going on? The last thing I remembered was getting shot in the head. My memories of the past few days were broken and disjointed, flashes of an epic battle against a golden man swam through my mind but I couldn't focus on any of them. We had won…I think, but then there was a flash of pain in the back of my head.

Reaching back, I felt two holes in my skull underneath my dirt matted hair, strangely enough I felt no pain, despite the mortal wound still lingering on my body.

"Well this one looks lucky, body well preserved, no external wounds I can see. Even looks human. Except for the eyes of course. Always a dead giveaway. What do you think caretaker?" The chatty man stated to the newcomer.

"Silence boy. Be respectful, she is bound to be confused and afraid." The caretaker stated. Looking up my eyes widen as the figure enters the light.

In the dim light who I had thought was simply a hunched and pale man was in fact a zombie. The figure had matted brown hair sticking out from the side of his head. His bones were showing at his elbow and knees, somehow still working despite the lack of cartilage and skin. Next to him stood another zombie, but this one had a much fuller head of hair and seemed to be more…fresh for lack of a better word.

"There is no easy way to tell you this lass, but you have become like us, one of the Forsaken." The zombie stated, looking grim as he handed her a small mirror, which I took gingerly, afraid of what the reflective glass would reveal.

Looking into the glass I felt my heart drop, I had never been tan, but my once healthy pale skin was now nearly opaque with dark circles that hung beneath my new glowing red eyes. My brown hair was a mess, the muddy ground caking it to the point where it looked black.

Glancing down at my body I was relieved to see that I was not as…decrepit as the two in front of me. I was still dressed in my spider silk costume sans the mask, but I could still feel the skin beneath the cloth, ensuring me that I was still relatively whole.

"H-how?" I whisper, I had died. I had to have died. I had been shot in the head! I could still feel the bullet holes!

"I cannot tell you that lass, this land be cursed after Arthas destroyed Lordaeron. The dead have been rising for the past year or so. It is my job to ensure you are aware of the world you have been reborn to and your options."

'Arthas? Lordaeron?' I think with confusion, was Arthas a cape name? And where was Lordaeron, somewhere in Europe?

"Before you explain, can you tell me how far away we are from Brockton Bay?" I question, hoping to be able to return home now that I no longer felt the all-consuming presence of Kephri.

"Brockton Bay?" The caretaker stated with a raised eyebrow, scratching his chin "Never heard of that city, where in the Eastern Kingdoms is it?"

With a sinking feeling that I was further away from home that I once thought. Everyone in Earth Bet knew that alternate realities existed with the discovery of Earth Aleph, could Contessa have asked Doormaker to send her to a random alternate dimension so the threat of Kephri could never threaten earth again?

But she had to be sure "Sorry, but are we in America?"

The zombie raised an eyebrow "You are more confused than most girl, no. We are currently in the ruins of the once proud land of Lordaeron in Tristfal Glades. Never heard of an America."

That clinched it, she was no longer on earth. Even people in third world countries had heard of the states.

Pushing away my pain and sadness into a strangely large spider in my power's range. I refocused focused on the situation. I would just have to do as I always had done, adapt and endure.

I could still feel my power, the now dead shard giving me access to my old abilities to control insects and arachnids. The land around me was packed to the brim with them. But I was not familiar with many of the breeds I was sensing. There were normal sized insects flittering about, but there were also arachnids and other insects the size of a small human wandering about. I could control them, but it took more focus than the smaller ones. I estimated I could only afford to control three or four before it took too much concentration.

Taking a deep breath, only to find to my concertation I had not been breathing before now I looked back at the two, filtering my feelings of despair and panic into my new minions.

"Sorry, I was just confused, you mentioned options?" I question, steering the conversation back on track.

The caretaker nodded "Right, have a prewritten speech somewhere…ah here it is." He muttered, taking out a small slip of paper "as an undead you are now hated by the world. You are utterly alone, bereft of any allies. Any human would kill you on sight and spit on your desecrated corpse. The only true sanctuary for our kind is to serve under the Dark Lady Sylvanas Windrunner, who has reformed Lordaeron for the Forsaken and offers sanctuary to any risen undead free from the Lich King's grasp. However, if you choose to go alone, no one will stop you but know you always have sanctuary in the Undercity." The caretaker finished, folding up the note and placing it back into his pocket.

It had sounded rehearsed, I wondered how many zombies…or Forsaken rise from these graves that they need an official speech for it.

I frown, considering my options. This "Dark Lady Sylvanas" sounded sketchy but I could admit to myself I had very little information about this new world or dimension I had ended up in. In addition, if the stereotype of this world was like my old one, a zombie walking around would not last long.

I had spent too long as both a villain and as a hero to believe I was only limited to those two options, but at the moment all I could really do was play along "If I do head to this…Undercity, do I get to change my mind later or is it a…" What do I call it, a lifelong commitment? What terms would undead use to describe it "permanent arrangement."

The caretaker shrugged "Don't know myself, I am just an old graves keeper whose job got a bit more interesting in undeath. But Lady Sylvanas has been good to us Forsaken and we all would follow her to our true death. You do not have to decide right away, there is always jobs for an extra pair of hands to be done in Brill. By the way your dressed I would say you were a rogue or warrior in your past life. We could use someone like you around here. Head to the Tavern for some work and perhaps some food. We may no longer need sustenance, but it still comforts us." The graves keeper stated, clasping a bony hand on my shoulder before walking back to his small house outside the cemetery.

I watched him leave, frowning as I stood beside my grave. Glancing back, I shudder at the unmarked hole in the ground, deciding to leave the cemetery as fast as possible.

-Brill-​

Brill was a quiet town that was very different from the large sprawling city I was used to in Brockton bay. The town only had a handful of buildings centered around a central square.

I could see several undead constructing a wall made from black stone as well as others helping to repair the run-down buildings.

The sight of zombies doing something so…mundane was bizarre. It also comforted me in a way, I had grown up in a household where my father had been in contact with several construction workers. I knew how they operated and understood their business. Seeing that even in this strange world people still acted in somewhat predictable ways was a relief to see.

I made my way to one of the larger and better kept buildings. Stepping inside I was greeted with an old, but quant tavern with several undead nursing some type of drink and eating…mushrooms?

Mentally shrugging, I approached the counter, feeling the eyes of several of the patrons upon me.

There was a female undead operating the bar, she was the first female undead besides myself that I had seen, and I was internally glad that my death wound was just a bullet to the head. The girl had a nasty looking stab wound in her neck that was sewn shut with wire. That death could not have been pleasant.

"Hello." I greeted "I am er…" I pause, still wondering what I should call this state of not quite living "new." I finish lamely before starting again "I was wondering who I could talk with to find some work."

The girl eyed me up and down, observing my nearly skin-tight spider weave armor before speaking "Well you seem dependable enough. Damn lucky death by the looks of it too." I could barely hear her mutter before she spoke louder "Well if you are as capable as you look you could help out with clearing the surrounding area of the mindless undead, the pay is a silver for every ten of the things you kill. You could also speak with the town guard; the Scarlet Crusade bastards have been a bit too active lately and people who help fight against them get paid well. Or you could just head to Undercity, there is always work to be done there."

I nod, while I was unsure of who the Scarlet Crusade were, from the tone they seemed to be some sort of invading force. "Mindless undead?" I question with a raised eyebrow "Isn't that harsh since were also dead?" I question.

The barmaid narrows her eyes "Look here, never, ever make the comparison between us and those abominations. We are the Forsaken, we were strong enough to break free from the Lich King's control. Those mindless beasts out there are still under the control of that monster and must be put down."

I was surprised by the passion in her voice, I really needed to find a Library or history book to find out who the people the locals were referencing are. In this new world, I was operating blind, and that left me vulnerable to misinformation or manipulation. Tattletale had pounded into my head on numerous occasions the importance of holding all the cards, I would not let her lessons go to waste.

"Right I am sorry about that, I only rose a few hours ago, just…learning the ropes." I mutter.

The barmaid nods and her luminous yellow eyes seem to soften in understanding "You're not the only one, we all remember what it was like. Horrible." She shook her head "For now those are the only jobs if you're looking for adventurer work, otherwise you want to visit Undercity to get licensed for a trade. They can put you to more mundane work." She states.

"Thank you for the information." I state with a nod before leaving the tavern, deep in thought.

There were many options available from what the barmaid stated, I bet that I would be able to make a fine tailor, I had access to an unlimited amount of spider silk after all, plus I would bet the larger spiders available here meant even stronger fibers than the ones back at home.

But, would I be content to live out my life as a tailor? I was an unknown here, I was not the warlord and leader of the Undersiders or the ward Weaver. I was just Taylor, an undead…no Forsaken capable of controlling insects with no baggage following me.

'I can be a real hero. Not a villain or a PR stunt of the PRT.' I realized with a flicker of hope.

I remembered the old caretaker's words 'As a Forsaken, you are alone in this world. You can only rely on your fellow undead, the humans would see you dead in a ditch at the first sight of you.'

I frown, how could I be a hero if I was hated by the world for what I was?

Looking around the town I observed the various Forsaken as they went about their lives, trying to make an honest living despite their undeath.

They were not bad people.

The answer could not have been easier for me at that moment.

"I will just have to become a hero of the Forsaken."

 

[Morgan Arc]

Double chapter to celebrate the first upload of this story!

Chapter 2
Scarlet Crusade Ambush Site​

Thanks to the necromantic energy now permeating the lands of Tristfal glades as well as a lack of human population to control them, the insect life of the land had mutated and evolved into different and dangerous forms.

Wasps had developed dangerous venoms, spiders grew to the size of small children and beyond, ants had gained intelligence and enhanced senses.

It was amazing for me to discover the differences. Many of the creatures I controlled here felt as if I was driving a Ferrari versus my old clunker represented in Earth Aleph's insects.

On Earth bet my power was powerful in its own unique way, but here on this new world, it is downright deadly.

It was a good thing too that my surroundings provided an upgrade on my power, because my opponents had also received a boost in power.
"Die abominations in the name of the light!" A Scarlet Crusade zealot shouted, nearly foaming at the mouth as he charged at me with a war mace gleaming with radiant light.

I dodged to the side, nimbly avoiding the crashing mace and swarmed the zealot with deadly insects, causing him to scream in pain as deadly venom was injected into his veins.

I watch dispassionately as the man falls, it had been several weeks since I had been reborn, and I had found myself amongst the Tristfal Glade militia, a group of undead who were drafted by the Undercity and the Dark Lady to push back the Scarlet Crusade's advance.
After several weeks of research, I had a much better grasp of the world around me since I rose from the grave. The world I was on was called Azeroth. Azeroth was largely divided into two super continents, the Eastern Kingdoms and Kalimdor.

I was currently located in a northern region of the Eastern Kingdoms formerly known as Lordaeron, one of the largest kingdoms on the continent before a deadly plague enveloped the land, turning those slain by it into the undead.

Initially the Crown Prince of the kingdom, Arthas, had fought against the plague, only to come back a few months later as the leader of the undead and ransacked his own kingdom as it's butcher.

Somehow, a large group of undead gained their independence after the Banshee queen, Sylvanas Windrunner wounded him in battle and forced him to flee from Lordaeron.

These free willed undead gathered together in the ruins of their fallen kingdom to become the Forsaken.

It was a tragic story, but it also relieved a lot of my fears about my new race. I was much more comfortable knowing that many of my fellow Forsaken were victims freed from a master influence rather than evil creatures.

Unfortunately, while the Forsaken knew the truth and would like nothing more than to work towards Arthas, or the Lich King's demise, they had much more immediate and pressing concerns.
The only reason that the Forsaken had not been wiped out by the new Alliance based in Stormwind was the fact that the Plague lands barred any easy access points for troops to march towards their former capital. But that did not stop a local fanatical group of humans known as the Scarlet Crusade from trying to wipe out the Forsaken themselves.

So, I had joined the local Militia to help stop them from advancing further into Tristfal Glades. At first, I was leery of killing humans.
I had killed before, the most notable being Alexandria, but I was not some soulless murderer.

However, once we liberated a camp controlled by the fanatics those thoughts changed after witnessing the horrors those monsters did to those who they capture.

Tortures that made even the dead blanche were inflicted upon any undead or those they believe worked with the forces of Undercity.
After witnessing their barbarity, I stopped holding back, swarming battlefields with deadly insects, much to the glee of my fellow Forsaken.

I had made a bit of a name for myself amongst the militia, my squad grateful for my special "magic" that gave them such a large advantage in battle.

Currently we were positioned outside of the Crusade's stronghold, the Scarlet Monastery looming ominously at the top of the hill. Unfortunately so far none of the Forsaken had managed to take the structure.

The light was damaging to the undead and every brick in that sick Monastery was infused with it. All they could do was force the humans to remain inside their structure, but in a world with portals, starving them out was simply n0t feasible.

Because of this stalemate, the Forsaken militia largely had nothing to do as we camped out of range of spell fire or arrows.
We were gathered around a fire, mostly for illumination since the dead did not feel the chill in air, chuckling to each other.
I was in the process of having an…interesting conversation with a fellow militia member.

"We can't name the militia Sylvanas' Hand, that is just tacky and needlessly puts her name on everything. I respect the woman, but there is a time and place for name branding and this isn't it." I state with passion. I had spent years under the thumb of the PRT's head of PR Glen Chambers, if nothing else I had learned where brand names were appropriate.

"Well then what would you call us? We all know Nelly's suggestion of the Zombie Force will never be accepted." One of the men sniggered, his voice echoing with the rest of the group as a Forsaken female narrowed her eyes at her squad.

I frowned, tapping my chin with a pale finger, there was no avoiding that the Forsaken had a certain…what was the word PHO used back on Aleph? Right…an edge to them. Being undead there was no way the world would see us as anything other than "Grim dark." Therefore, the Forsaken's militia should have an appropriately dark and slightly edgy name.

"How about the Death guard." I proposed. It was still had an appropriate amount of edge without going overboard and it was apt, we were the watchers and protectors of the risen dead after all.
The group collectively paused, considering the name.

"Well…it certainly is an apt title." Jacob Marley muttered, the rest of the squad murmuring in agreement.

There discussion was broken by the sound of hooves on stone. Tensing, they reached for their weapons in case the newcomer proved hostile.
However, when the rider emerged into visible range they relaxed as the signature mount of Undercity, a skeletal horse was revealed. The rider was a female undead wearing the tabard of Undercity.

I recognized her instantly, she was Emily Rand, one of the messengers hired by Undercity to alert the militia of any orders from the Banshee Queen or any of her generals. She had delivered orders and messages to her not-so marry band of Forsaken several times now.

The messenger stops right outside their fire and dismounts, pulling out a scroll from her side satchel "Greetings 5th Regiment of the Tristfal Glades Militia. I have a message for one Taylor Hebert."

I stand up "I am Taylor Hebert, what is the message?"

The courier hands me the scroll, I could see the official seal of Undercity emblazoned on the melted wax, it was an official letter from the Dark Lady herself, or someone working directly under her.

"You are to head to the Undercity at once, the Dark Lady requests your presence." Emily stated, giving the rest of the regiment a salute before climbing back atop her steed and riding off to deliver her next message.
I open the letter, scanning its contents quickly.

Taylor Hebert
It had come to my attention that you have served the Forsaken well in our goal to drive the Scarlet Crusade rabble from our lands. I have need of the services of one so competent in Undercity. It is a matter of great importance to the future of our people.
I expect you at the Undercity at the earliest convenience.
Sylvanas Windrunner
Banshee Queen of the Forsaken

"A job from the Dark Lady herself, you should be honored my dear. It is hard to attract our lady's eye." Crowley stated, having read the letter over my shoulder. The Forsaken was unfortunate enough to be missing a jaw upon his revival, but somehow was still able to communicate fine despite his tongue hanging down uselessly.

I nod "It is surprising, but I guess I will have to go." I was still unsure of the "Dark Lady" of the Forsaken. But I knew the signs of people being mastered, the undead I have met were not being forced to love Sylvanas. They nearly worshiped the woman out of their own free will.
I looked forward to meeting someone who could inspire such loyalty from her followers.

I turned to the group I had fought alongside for the past few weeks and spoke "It has been an honor fighting alongside you all. Hopefully we can work together again in the future." I state.

I receive respectful nods and some compliments as I climb atop my own mount and begin the ride towards Undercity.

Uninterrupted, the amount of time from the Scarlet Monastery, which was located deep in the mountains surrounding Tristfal Glades, to the Undercity for a normal human typically lasted around five to six hours of travel.

But for a Forsaken, we had no need to eat or rest, meaning that I should arrive in about half that time.

As I rode, I allowed my mind to wander on what Sylvanas could want with me. I knew that I was largely unique in this world. In my studies I learned that despite the vast possibilities of magic, there had been very little information regarding mages who used insects in battle.

There were brief notations of Druids who could control nature through their magic, but nothing about the level of fine control over insects that I had.

Therefore, I was something of a unique entity, but I hoped that all the other fantastic and strange things in the world would make my own ability not stand out.

Lisa's voice range through my mind "You have a terrifying power, but perhaps the best part of it is the fact that people will always underestimate you. 'Bug control' sounds like a joke power for a third-rate villain at best. Let them believe that, then take them out."

I had taken those words to heart, even in death I still found myself relying on the lessons I learned on Earth bet. My unbeating heart clenched in pain as I recalled the faces of the Undersiders, my friends. Lisa, Brian, Alex, Rachel, and Aisha. How I missed the days where we worked to protect Brockton Bay, I wonder what they would think of my new state of being?

Would they be disgusted, reject me like the humans reject the Forsaken, or would they accept me for what I am?
I hoped I never had to find out.

The echoing neigh of my horse jerked me from my thoughts as I looked up, the ominous walls of the Undercity looming in the distance.

For now, I would try and focus on the present. I could not change the past, but I could try and forge a new place for myself in this world.

 

[Morgan Arc]

Chapter 3:
Undercity​

The capital of the Forsaken was very aptly named, the first time I had visited the city, I had been very confused. The visible portion of the city was deserted with only a few spirits inhabiting the empty streets.

But the true capital lay in the catacombs that stretched out beneath the city.

Walking through the throne room I pass by several abominations, causing me to shudder as I look at them. The colossal stitched horrors first were revealed by the Undercity to help in their war effort against the Scarlet Crusade, I had been horrified. They looked like a horrible experiment by Bonesaw.

It had been a relief to learn that the horrible juggernauts had not used to be a person, but rather had a basic personality programmed into it so it will not go on a killing rampage.

I do not know why the personality programmed often took the appearance of a young child and I do not want to know.

Ignoring the happy gurgles that echoed behind me as I walk deeper into the catacombs I enter the lift that would take me beneath the surface of the abandoned city.

With a woosh the elevator hurtled downward, lifting my hair as we descended. With a jerk that would have sent a normal human to the floor in a groaning heap the lift stops.

Stepping out of the elevator I enter the main hub of the Undercity, where hundreds of Forsaken were hard at work.Walking briskly, I passed by several stores who had taken up shop in the catacombs as well as several other amenities such as a bank and auction house.

For now, I ignored most of the shops, after I met with Sylvanas I could explore the city some more.

As I exited the center hub of Undercity I entered into he Rogues Quarter, an aptly named wing of the giant catacombs, home to the Undercity's seedier residents as well as, if the rumors were true, a more covert ops wing of the Forsaken militia.

As I walk I attract the attention of many of the Forsaken. My mostly unmarred skin drawing the eye of the residents.

It was quite a novel experience to be on the more beautiful side of the spectrum for once. When I was alive I could best be described as "plain." Here, with my cause of death being a bullet, I was largely still intact and therefore much more desirable. I made sure to keep bugs on the residents. They were sneaky, but not even Imp had managed to sneak up on me...most of the time.

"Hello my dear would you like to buy some…funnel cake?" My bugs had alerted me that the man was following me but I did not detect any weapons.

Sparing a glance at the forsaken I knew for a fact that his product was certainly not fried dough "No thanks." I stated coldly, having a Tristfal Widower, a local breed of spider that greatly reminded me of the Black Widows from home, hover above his eye.

The sketchy salesman backed off "Alright, alright. I know my type of customer."

I continue, my bugs informing me that several other figures in the shadow backing off.

Exiting the Rogue's district of the underground city I enter the Apothecarium, the true brain center of the Forsaken. I had only heard rumors of this place. Sylvanas had made a concentrated effort to gather the brightest minds among the newly risen undead to manufacture weapons to prepare for the war against the Lich King.

I stopped to observe for a few moments as men and woman in white lab coats wander around carrying various tools or chemicals for an unknown project.

I couldn't help but wonder what the tinkers back at home would think of this. While the technology of this world was roughly equivalent to the renaissance era there were certain areas that seemed strangely advanced.

With magic as well as much more unique resources available for building machines, the people of this world had invented strange and unique machines hundreds of years ahead of their. The most notable example being the elevator I had used to enter the catacombs.

Without magic humans had invented some of the worst weapons imaginable, I was almost morbidly interested in what type of horrors were being concocted in the depths of the apothecary.

Having seen enough and having placed a few bugs on notable scientists I saw from my brief observation, I entered a large corridor in the center of the bustling science center that led to the Royal quarters.

At the end of the narrow corridor I stopped at a double set of doors that marked the entrance to the room where the Banshee queen kept court with her closest advisors.

On both sides of the door were two undead dressed in full plate armor and newly tailored tabards of the Undercity.

The tabards were a new sign and was dedicated to the Dark Lady, depicted a broken white mask with three arrows placed behind it.

"And you are…?" One of the guards ask in a droning voice, eyeing my lightly armored attire and dagger I carried sheathed on my hip.

"The Banshee queen requested my presence." I state, holding out the letter with the royal seal.

The guard took the letter and studied the wax seal carefully before handing it back "The Dark Lady expects you." He stated, opening the door.

I entered, observing the room with interest. The figure that grabbed my attention first was a large hulking being with bat wings stretching out in the circular room.

I had heard rumors that there was a demon in Sylvanas' court but I had thought that was just rumor mongering.

With difficulty I tore my gaze away from the demon to the woman standing in the center of the room, was Sylvanas Windrunner herself.

It could be no other, dark leather armor encompassing unhealthy pale skin with red eyes burning from beneath the darkness of her hood. Pale white hair and long elfin ears poke out from the dark cloth of her hood, signifying her status as an elf. Sylvanas appeared to be very lucky in her death, there were no blemishes or even wounds from what I could see on her person.

I finished my observation, taking in every detail of the room in seconds as I just enter before bowing to the leader of the Forsaken "Lady Sylvanas, you requested my presence?" I question.

The banshee turned to me, eyes cold and calculating as she stares into my own similar glowing red orbs "Yes…Taylor Hebert. I have heard many rumors and read several reports about your efforts on the battlefield. From what my head of the guard has stated you have been pivotal in routing the Scarlet Crusade back into their den like the cowards that they are." She sneers as she states the name of the Forsaken's local enemy.

"But I do not call you here merely for your prowess in battle. Already we are developing weapons and training enough Forsaken to keep the zealots pinned within their cradle." She states, walking over to a table near to us, gesturing me forward.

I approached, seeing that a map of Azeroth pinned to the table "What is much more of a threat that needs to be addressed is the reformed Alliance based in Stormwind. They have allies with the Dwarves, Gnomes, and Night Elves and all of them wish to reclaim their precious city Lordaeron. Once they manage to clear a path through the Plague Lands we would be surrounded on all sides and destroyed." Sylvanas nearly snarls as she continues "Predicting this I sent an ambassador to Stormwind to discuss joining their Alliance, as Lordaeron used to be the capital of the previous Alliance, I had hoped they would look past on what it has become. Unfortunately, they refused and their fool of a King, Varian Wrynn stated that the Alliance would kill any undead on sight."

I frown, "I assume you have a plan that involves me then."

The Dark Lady scowls in frustration "…Yes, I do not like it but I can see no other alternative. If the Alliance scorns our aid and promises our death. Then there is no other option…" Sylvanas trails off, as if the words she was about to speak had to be forced out.

"There is no other option than to seek aid from the Horde."

While I was new to Azeroth if there was one thing that was made abundantly clear in the history books I had read, it was that the Horde was full of savages that had invaded Azeroth from another world. They had been responsible for the burning of Stormwind and nearly conquered Lordaeron itself before they had been repelled.

There were rumors that the Horde had reformed, and the concentration camps used to contain the orcs who has surrendered had been liberated and razed to the ground.

Joining the Horde would be the equivalent of the Empire 88 joining forces with the Merchants, it simply was infeasible to imagine.

"My Queen are you sure?" I ask, concerned with this plan.

Sylvanas nods "Yes, I believe I have heard the expression "Any port in the storm" thrown around in situations such as this. I do not like it, but my advisers and I believe this is our only chance if we wish to remain in control of the Undercity."

From the corner of my eye I saw Varimathras cross his arms, looking smug.

I had a sinking feeling I knew why I was called here "And you wish for me to be the ambassador that will approach the Horde with our offer." I state.

Sylvanas did not even blink at my statement "Yes, for a number of reasons right now you are the most powerful Forsaken I can spare. You are also one of the most…presentable ambassador I can hope for." She states, eyeing my largely intact body. "I will not force you to go but know that if there is one thing the Horde respects, it is strength. And you are our current best chance at convincing those savages to aid us."

I saw the not so subtle manipulation for what it was, but I would do the same thing if I was in the woman's position. I was very leery of going to meet with what all historical records described as a barbaric and evil race of beings, but there was very little options now that the humans had rejected us.

"Well." I say slowly, "I will need a ship then."

The Banshee Queen did not smile at my proclamation, but she did appear to be satisfied with my answer.

…

Of course, the Banshee queen could not snap her fingers and prepare a fully stocked ship for me to head towards the reported location of the Horde in Kalimdor.

While Lordaeron had a small fleet of ships from the war against the first Horde, but they had fallen into disrepair after Arthas desecrated his own kingdom.

It took two weeks of Forsaken working tirelessly, but the first flagship of the Forsaken was constructed.

"The Windrunner." I observe, reading the silver writing on the hull of the massive ship. The boat was made from a dark wood with wooden carving of skulls on the bow, the sails dyed pitch black. It was certainly an ominous ship, befitting the dead who would main it's sails.

"Good Evenin, you must be the ambassador that I will be transporting on yer maiden voyage huh?" A voice spoke behind me.

Turning I observe an undead female in an admiral's hat and a blue long coat approaching me.

I eye the cutlass dangling from her hip for a moment before shaking the offered hand "I am, you are the new captain of this ship then?" I ask.

"Aye, when I was alive I was born and raised on the sea. Dad was a sea captain, mother was a pirate. Never asked how they got together." She stated cheerily, taking the lead up a plank onto the ship.

"I never got your name." I remarked as undead swarm to get the ship ready for it's maiden voyage.

"Never stated it, Admiral Tattersail at your service." The woman states, heading to the helm to navigate her ship.

I doubted Tattersail was her real name, but I had met many Forsaken who had decided to abandon their names when they were alive to distance themselves further from their memories.

I had even considered taking a new name, but I had decided to hold on to my memories of Earth Bet, despite the bad times with Winslow, Coil, Cauldron the Nine, and Scion there were also good memories to remember as well.

"Alright you rotting corpses, GET THE MAIN SAIL READY! You untie the ship from the docks, The rest of you know your jobs! HEBERT!"

I jump at the exclamation of my name. Looking up at Tattersail who looks down on me with a savage grin "Get below deck, this is no place for a Land lubber like you!" With a cackle the Admiral turns the wheel of the Windrunner, the breeze catching the sails and we were off, sailing into the open ocean.

I enter the hull of the ship, watching from a window as the forests of Tristfal Glades becomes a dot in the distance. I was unsure of this Horde, but for the safety of my new people. I would do whatever it takes to ensure the Forsaken thrive.

Whatever it takes.​

 

[Morgan Arc]

Chapter 4
Orgrimmar​

The voyage from Tristfal Glades to Kalimdor took a week of sailing. The ocean that separated the two continents having proved to be no obstacle for the Forsaken ship.

"Land ho!" The lookout shouted from the crows nest.

Exiting the hull of the ship I look out, seeing the land of Kalimdor on the horizon. I walked to the helm of the ship where Tattsail was focused on steering the ship to the shore.

"I see we arrived." I state as I got within earshot.

"Aye, the reports from Undercity states the green skins set up shop in the desert. I do not see any docks we can use so you will have to take a rowboat to shore." Tattersail eyed my new outfit "I see the Dark Lady gave you some new clothes for your new role eh? No more skin tight one pieces?"

Tattersail had observed correctly, Sylvanas had given me a formal outfit to wear for the meeting with the Horde. The outfit consisted of a bulky dark leather jerkin with pants and boots of the same material. A large belt kept the outfit from moving around too much and to finish the assemble a black cloak hung from my shoulders, the collar stretching up to my cheek bones.

I grip the metal plates on my gloves, unused to being so armored "Yes, the Queen stated I should represent our people well. While my former outfit served me well in combat, Sylvanas stated that it may serve…the wrong impression." In truth I was simply wearing my costume beneath my new clothes. I had rewoven the outfit using the spider silk I was able to gather from the local strains. It was even harder to penetrate than Kevlar on my old world. I would be a fool to enter a possible hostile area without it.

Unnoticed by the admiral I shifted a hidden compartment of my bracers before walking towards the edge of the ship, where a small raft was being prepared for me to head to shore.

"I will send word if the meeting goes well, if it does not…well. Either I will return, or you will be fleeing from an attacking force." I state to the admiral as I begin to row towards the shore.

…

If there was one thing I both loved and hated about the curse of undeath, it was that the extremes of weather no longer affected my body. While I sometimes missed the wind on my skin or the warmth of the sun, I was thankful I no longer could sweat in the sweltering heat of this place's weather.

If I was still amongst the living, I would be a mess of sweat and dirt.

We had docked near where the Horde capital was located so it only took an hour of walking before I was in sights of the main gate of the city. The wall was massive, blocking an entire ravine in the desert landscape, constructed of stone and wood which showed rough but efficient craftsmanship as it fortified the rest of the base of the Horde.

Thankfully, despite the desert climate, there were still plenty of insects for me to keep track of the guards on the walls, who by the reactions my insects were sensing, had already seen me.

'Very keen eyes. Humans would not be able to see me this far out.' I muse as I unfurl a white flag and raise it high as I walk. Hopefully the Horde recognized the significance of the gesture.

As I got closer I could see a congregation of hulking green skinned figures gather at the gate. In addition to the orcs, I also noticed a few much more lanky, tusked blue skinned beings and furred giants that resembled images of the Minotaur from my own world.

'So the Horde has expanded from a pure Orcish force. I recognize Trolls from texts but I do not recognize the minotaur looking people.' I analyze as I stopped within a respectful, and outside of weapon range, distance of the congregation.

"You stink of death human. Why are you here?" The Orc in front of the party states with narrowed eyes. The orc was dressed in red and black plate armor and had a massive axe of similar colors strapped to his back.

"Greetings, my name is Taylor Hebert and I come barring a message from the Queen of the people I represent. I wish to speak with your leader." I state, staring the leader in the eye. In terms of first impressions with a different race I could already tell many of the books had been biased on the intelligence of the green skinned beings. Looking into the eyes of the towering man I could tell there was a burning intelligence behind those muscles.

"And what "people" would that be, and why would I ever let a human anywhere near our Warchief." He sneers.

I smile wryly "My appearance may be deceptive, but I am human no longer, as are the members of my people. I represent the Forsaken, we are undead who have freed ourselves from the control of the Lich King. We occupy the former kingdom of Lordaeron in the Eastern Kingdoms. Our leader, Sylvanas Windrunner, has sent me personally to meet with the Warchief of the Horde to discuss an alliance. I will either be forced to flee from an act of aggression, or I will meet with him." I state firmly, matching the glare of the head of the Horde congregation as we sized each other up.

However, before anything else could be said a deep voice spoke up from behind the gathering.

"General Naz'grim, the Warchief has ordered that we invite our guest to meet with him. He wishes to talk with the emissary."

The guards separated to reveal another Orc, this one older and dressed much more simply than the now named Naz'grim. Dressed in leather shorts with a rugged chest guard made of the same material he did not seem like a traditional individual who would be in a position of high command.

But I could tell instantly that he commanded a deep sense of respect from the men and woman in the group.

Naz'grim glared into he eyes of the Orc for a moment before nodding "Entrigg! Why on earth would the Warchief want to meet with human scum!"

Entrigg narrowed his eyes "Are you questioning your orders?"

Naz'grim did not look happy, but he growled lowly "As the Warchief commands." Turning back to his assembled guards "Back to your stations!" He barked at the guards, but before he walked away he looked back at me and sneered "I will be keeping an eye on you."

I did not respond as he marched away, leaving me alone with the elder Orc.

"Do not mind Naz'grim, he is very passionate about his job." He stated, gesturing forward into the gate "Follow me."

We walked in silence as we moved through the city. The Horde capital was an interesting mix of almost barbaric architecture with ingenious machinery. I could see a lift made entirely from wood rising towards the tall cliffs surrounding the buildings. How they made one city grade, or work, out of such mundane materials was beyond me.

"Your city is very impressive." I state to try and draw my guide into conversation.

The orc grunts "We have worked hard to forge a home for us in this land."

I nod "That is something I, and my people can understand. We work tirelessly to forge a place for us amongst the living."

The rest of our trip went in silence as we walked through the city, making our way to a large stone and wooden keep at the far side of the valley. I glanced at the bones of a massive creature as we walked to the keep, eyeing the large crack in the skull from where the killing blow was performed.

"The Warchief awaits you inside. Be respectful." Entrigg warns before opening the doors of the keep, revealing a wide meeting room with several Orcs, trolls, and the minotaur like people gathered around a large stone throne.

The orc that sat upon the throne was not the most physically intimidating Orc I had seen while walking through the city, but he had a presence about him that enveloped the room. Dressed in black and copper tinted plate armor, and wielding a massive war mace, the Warchief of the Horde certainly lived up to the image.

Near the throne were two other figures. The first was a troll in light leather gear with various talismans and skulls woven into the cured animal skins. Beneath his war painted face I could see a burning intelligence that seemed to be dissecting my being.

The final being was another Minotaur, this one dressed similarly to images of native Americans from my old world. By his side rested a large totem that I assumed also served as his weapon.

My observation only took a couple of seconds as I entered, and I assumed that the three men in the room had also finished their own first impressions.

Standing in the center of the room I spoke "Greetings Warchief of the Horde. My name is Taylor Hebert, and I represent the Forsaken of Tirisfal Glades. My Queen, Sylvanas Windrunner has tasked me with seeking an alliance with your Horde." I state.

The Warchief sat up in his chair, placing his weapon on the floor in front of him, grasping the top of the handle. His startlingly blue eyes bored into my own red colored pupils "Hmm, your offer is as intriguing as it is complex. You and your people are unknowns to us, and the only information that I have on your people is that you were formerly human. Why would a human, if only partially human, seek the aid of my people and not the Alliance of Stormwind?" He finally asks, breaking the silence.

I grimace "Unfortunately our living counterparts were…less than receptive to our offer of aid. The Eastern Kingdoms suffered much at the hands of the Lich King, and the wounds that the mindless undead caused leaves us in…less than stellar regard from any allies we could potentially have sought for aid."

Leaning back, the Orc turned to his companions "What do you think, Vol'jin, Cairne?"

The troll, now with a name to the face narrowed his eyes "I don't know Thrall, dealing with the undead in my experience is often bad news. However…the girlie in front of me looks like no other cursed zombie voodoo I have seen."

The Warchief was named Thrall? What an odd name.

Cairne spoke next, his deep rumbling voice speaking clear in the hold "Despite what they are, they are alone in the world with an enemy at every side. We all know what that is like. Thrall, your people fled from the Eastern Kingdoms yourself. I say we give these Forsaken a chance to prove themselves."

I marginally relaxed my shoulders at the bovine-esque being's words. I appeared to have at least one ally in the room.

Thrall grunted at both words of advice "I see." He mused, closing his eyes and breathing in deeply in contemplation.

Opening his eyes, he spoke "I do not need to be informed of the benefits of being allies with people so deeply entrenched upon the Eastern Kingdoms, a continent we have no claim over. But an alliance built upon the convenience of having a common enemy, with little else to bind our people together is a fragile and easily broken alliance. What can you offer the Horde besides our shared enemy of the Alliance?' Thrall questioned.

I frown, the books on the Orcs were clearly more biased than I had initially thought. When I first was tasked to cross the sea to meet with the Horde I expected brutes who would only think of having a foothold near the front door of their greatest enemy and jump at the offer, clearly the Warchief was much more farseeing and intelligent for such a tactic.

"The Forsaken do not have much in terms of trade or imports I must admit. We are a newly established people. However, we have access to the finest alchemists and scientists outside of the gnomes. We can offer the Horde our expertise in potions and alchemy as well as our military." I explain, the Apothecary often released products for the Forsaken people to ease the pain of undeath in addition to their secret weapon projects. It would not be very hard to start developing a wider range of products for our new allies.

Thrall thinks deeply, closing his eyes before noding "Yes, that is an attractive offer. The Horde currently does not have many Alchemists…" Thrall turns to Vol'jin who shrugged.

"I am still leery of working with the undead, but I will retract my protest. I can recognize an opportunity when I see it." The troll sighs.

Thrall looks satisfied before standing up, "I see then, if the last protest has been withdrawn, Taylor Hebert, I would be honored to invite the Forsaken to join us in arms amongst the Horde."​