"Who are you, Maevee Scourgebane?"
"I am Maevee Scourgebane. I am Forsaken."
"You are a murderer."
"Yes."
"To what purpose, Scourgebane?"
"Power."
"Power of what?"
"Power of the world."
"You seek to rule the world?"
"Yes."
"You will not achieve this, Warrior."
"..."
"You laugh?"
"You will not stop me."
"The Earthmother will, Maevee. You will be sent back to the binds of the Scourge."
"Never."
"Your doom is coming, Forsaken. It is only a matter of time.."

Maevee's rotted eyelids snapped open. She hadn't been sleeping - no Forsaken truly sleeps - but her conscious mind had slipped away as she rested against the trunk of a tree. She had been dreaming. Maevee laughed in the nighttime woods. Reaching into her pocket, she took out the precious gem that she had attained nearly four months ago.

"Are you attempting to scare me?" She asked the gem, which flickered oddly. The facets reflecting the stars above went dark and clouded. Maevee smirked and replaced the gem into the safety of her pocket. Soon, the gem would be socketed into a weapon capable of holding its power. Soon.

She glanced around the dark woodlands. In four months travel, she had left the humid Stranglethorn Vale and headed north across the Eastern Kingdoms. Now she camped on the southern edge of the Western Plaguelands. The weapon in question was still more north, supposedly. Maevee sighed. She had hauled across the continent as fast as she could, trying to both get to the Plaguelands and shake Vinir. She was confident that she had achieved this, and could finally rest. The weapon wasn't going anywhere - it hadn't for nearly a millennia. It could wait a couple more weeks for its new owner.

Maevee settled back into a slightly more comfortable position against the trunk. There was no reason to hurry, and the Plaguelands weren't a place she fancied traveling through at night. Part of her - the remaining human soul - cowered at the idea of traveling through the lands that had played a hand in the deaths of so many. Mocking her own foolishness, the warrior slipped from her conscious state again.

----

Far from Maevee, Vinir spat at the ground. This disgusting habit of his had developed since the group had ran into a demonic Ooze in the Wetlands. As the abomination had died, it exploded, filling Vinir's mouth with its slime. He had been spitting ever since, attempting to get rid of the acidly foul flavor. Yauir and the third Forsaken ignored him, both absent-mindedly ripping apart a luckless rabbit.
"You completely mutilated the lungs, Renma. I could have used those." Yauir hissed to the third party member. Renma shrugged, flicking an eyeball across the small fire and watching it sizzle.
"I wouldn't have if it didn't squirm so much."
"It won't be squirming much now," Yauir chuckled, glancing at the scattered body parts. Vinir rolled his eyes and looked up from his map.
"Quit your fooling around. We need to figure out where to go from here." Vinir's voice was low, soft, and hoarse. Yauir resentfully burned the body parts with a quick motion of his hand and a single word. The trio surrounded Vinir, who had a large map spread on the forest floor.

"We're here...on the edge of the Hinterlands. Maevee has thus far been moving north. If she keeps this up - which we have no reason to believe she wouldn't be doing - she'll be heading into the Plaguelands." Renma blanched at the mention.
"Let her go, I say. I've no desire to return to those lands, Vinir." Unlike Vinir, Renma's voice was loud and slightly high pitched. He was often told by the other two to shut up, as his voice had an extremely grating effect. Renma, the 'youngest' of the bunch, took it in stride. He was bald, and his skin a grayish tone. Sores from the Plague that had taken his life dotted his body in disgusting, pus-filled stains. His skin was tight over the bones, making Renma look like a walking skeleton. The shrunken frame had given Renma an advantage for sneaking, and he fully embraced the concept of being a rogue. A small grasp in magical knowledge allowed him to fully disappear from view, which he often did to annoy his companions.

"Stop following her because you're a cowardly little snot? I'd rather not lose out on the gold." Vinir snapped, then turned to spit in Renma's direction. His two-handed mace was at his side. Unlike most Forsaken, Vinir took great care of his physical appearance. His hair was stacked into pointed spikes, glued together with tree sap. His rotting flesh was kept clean. However, no amount of hygiene could disguise his Undeath. Under his plate chestpeice, ribs protruded. Vinir had died from falling off a gryphon's back when the beast beserked midair. The ground-crunching result was that his skull was slightly flat on one side, and his ribs, hip, and legs were misaligned to his body. The adjustment to his spine gave Vinir a constant swagger in his walk. Although he didn't like to admit it, Vinir easily lost balance. Only one lifeless eye swirled in his skull, the other having been knocked loose at the time of his death. Like Maevee, Vinir was a warrior. Unlike most warriors, however, he often chose to think first and avoid conflicts. This was not out of compassion or mercy, however, but rather an extreme lazy streak.

"A three way split is pretty slim, even with the amount worth Maevee. Perhaps the snot should just go back to hunting bats for Brill." Yauir laughed, with a sense of seriousness underlining his tone. Yauir, the mage, looked very similar to Renma. The two had been brothers in life, before the Plague had claimed them. He disguised his rotting flesh under robes, and clutched a twisted staff of enchanted wood in one hand. Yauir often joked, but there was a tone in his voice that made others wonder whether or not the joke was serious. Slightly older than Renma, the difference between the two was most remarkable by their personality. Foul mouthed and short tempered, Yauir was the one usually responsible for the murders and senseless violence in the group.

Renma chuckled, knowing that they would never seriously send him back to Undercity. His stealthing abilities were too valuable for tracking a character like Maevee. He had proved his worth already, when they tracked down that stupid Orc in Stranglethorn Vale. "If it's too small a share for you, you can just give yours to me, Yauir."
"Just shut up, Renma. A screaming cat sounds better than you do." Vinir said, still staring at the map, "Tomorrow we head into the Plaguelands."
"Why not tonight?" Yauir asked.
"Maevee won't chance those lands at night. We don't want to overshoot her." Vinir answered, rolling the map up and placing it into his bag.
"You feel as though we are that close?" Vinir grinned a lipless smile, and took up his mace, swinging it deftly in one hand.
"This mace's head will be painted in her innards before much longer." He promised. The trio laughed in sadistic enjoyment.

-----------

"She wants to rule the world?" The Tauren remarked to herself, disbelief heavy in her voice. The young Tauren had been following Maevee north through the Eastern Kingdoms, soothing the troubled spirits that trailed at her side. It was to these that she now spoke.

"Insanity." The voice of the lion remarked. The Tauren nodded her agreement, concerned. Lately, the voice of the lion had become stronger, indicating that its spirit was intermingling with her own. The spirit of the Orc, seemingly resentful of the connection, had grown quieter. The Tauren did not want to lose either spirit now.

For the last couple weeks, the young Shaman had been scrying into Maevee's dreams. It hadn't taken her long to catch up to the warrior, but she wasn't ready to approach Maevee yet. As the spirits stalked her, the Shaman attempted to learn about her foe. Tonight, she would scry deeper. Maevee believed that these dreams were the result of the influence of the gem she carried, so it would be safe for her to delve deeper.

"You have no remorse for those you killed."
"Why should I?"
"Life is precious."
"I am Forsaken."
"But not always."
"Yes."
"Who were you, Maevee? In Life before Death?"
"Who are you?"
"A visitor."
"The gem?"
"Yes."
"I don't believe you. I want a name."
"...You may call me Treeheart."
"A Tauren name?"
"Yes. I am the spirit that resides in the gem."
"Oh. What do you want?"
"What you want."

A world appeared around Maevee, in her dream. She was standing in Mulgore, but it was quickly disappearing under her. The dream world spun through the lands of Azeroth. In the span of seconds, Kalimdor melted away from Maevee. She floated above the Maelstrom, then the vast majority of the Eastern Kingdoms. The spinning slowed down as it came closer to Maevee, and finally stopped altogether, looking at her. Maevee stared at her own body, tossing fitfully in its unconscious state. A young female Tauren approached her. White fur glistened in the dream, and her silver horns seem ethereal.

"You're the spirit in the gem? You don't look powerful or malicious."
"I am what you want. Powerful, malicious, compassionate, merciful. I wield the power I choose."
"I see. What do you want, Gem?"
"To know who you are, that I may grant you my power accordingly."
"I don't remember life."
"Then show me your Undeath."

The Tauren stepped forward, touching Maevee's forehead with her large, glowing hand.

------------------------

"Welcome, Maevee Scourgebane, to the Undercity." The abomination guard spluttered the words, speaking through the ooze and saliva that filled his mouth. Maevee, looking the same as she did in current day, nodded her thanks and stepped onto the elevator that would descend her into the labyrinth below.

It was her first trip into the Undercity. She had only regained her soul within the last week, and having a sense of freedom was still new and exciting for the warrior. Now, on the behalf of some advice from the innkeeper in Brill, she was seeking further information from the trainers in Undercity. As she stepped off the elevator, Maevee watched with curiosity at the bustling of the city. All the races of the Horde mingled here, on their ways and travels throughout the Eastern Kingdoms. Walking along the ledge, Maevee didn't pay much attention to where she was going. So, of little surprise, she ran straight into another Forsaken.

"Watch where you are going, why don't ya?" The male Forsaken snapped, pushing the small warrior against the wall.
"Watch where you're going yourself, or I'll rip those pathetic remainders of eyeballs out of your skull," Maevee hissed in response. The male laughed, his attitude adjusting immediately.
"My apologies, fair lady. I would rather wish to keep my eyes intact." The male bowed, over exaggerating the movements of his hands. "Perhaps I can escort a fine maiden such as yourself?" Maevee stared at him, noticing that the male's shaggy hair had taken on a purple tint. Shrugging, she informs him that she was seeking more guidance towards honing her warrior skills.
"Ah, the ways of a warrior. I find myself taking in such a venture. Through battle, one may remember whom oneself used to be." He laughed, extending a bony hand. "My name is Tael Untenyar. And you are...?"
"Maevee Scrougebane."
"A remarkable name for a remarkable lady." Tael responded, shaking her hand. "But enough dillydallying, Maevee! We must venture forth, to slay the evil that ravages these lands, claim land for our own, and do all manner of knightly and heroic acts of chivalry, heroism, stupidity, and honor!"
"You said heroism twice."
"Well, that is what knights do, no?"
"I'm not looking to be a knight, Tael."
"Ah, well, it is only a dream for some. But nevertheless, let us go."

The dream spins forward in time, past the grueling training that the two warriors undertake. Tael and Maevee stick tightly together, the best of friends. Despite their closeness, however, the goals for the two quickly head down different roads. Tael, wanting to seek redemption for his life, speaks of honor and mimics the beliefs of Paladins. Maevee finds power addictive, and uses any opportunity to hold more of it, especially over Tael. It causes an unspoken rift between the two, but one both were happy with ignoring.

The rushing time speeds past the multitude of minor adventures the two embark on. Many of these end the same - with Tael and Maevee arguing bitterly. Time slows down again as the two stand over a mortally wounded human, dressed in the colors of the Scarlet Crusade.

"We should put her out of her misery, the poor thing." Tael remarks to Maevee, watching the suffering young girl with a look of sorrow in his undead eyes.
"No. She would offer us no such mercy. Let her gasp those breathes out in every agonizing second that we once suffered." Maevee's voice was cold, heartless, and even bored.
"Maevee, have you no compassion? We were alive once too."
The female Forsaken shrugs. She knew she was alive, once, like this dying young girl. But she had no memory of such a time, and it didn't effect her decisions like it did for Tael.
"You're not alive anymore, Tael. No amount of mercy will undo what you did to yourself." She hisses at him, and slits the girl's throat. The girl passes quickly. Tael stares at Maevee, disgusted.
"What are you, Maevee Scourgebane? Why did Undeath take you?" He whispers. Maevee shrugs.
"It doesn't matter. But there will be a time, Tael, when people of all races hear my name and cringe in fear. When the armies I command overthrow pitiful forces like the Crusade."
"Oh? And how will you accomplish such power under the rule of Slyvanas?" Maevee sneers.
"Slyvanas is not my Queen." Tael's jaw drops and he stares at her over the body of the human girl, disbelief clear on his face.
"Maevee, that's treasonous to say! Take it back."
"No."
"Please don't put me in this position, Maevee. It's my duty to the Queen to kill traitors." Tael pleaded with his friend.
"And duty overcomes friendship, Tael?" She whispers in a low, venom-filled reply. Tael doesn't reply, but his look says enough. Maevee shakes her head with a smirk of disgust.  She turns and makes back towards Undercity. But she doesn't get far before a charging Tael hits her, stunning her momentarily.

Maevee twists to greet her assailant, unable to fully believe Tael would attack her. His face is set in grim determination to bring down the traitor to his beloved Queen. Maevee's twin blades quickly find holes around Tael's mighty two-handed sword, and she rips into him.
"You're nothing to me, Tael." She screams at him, slicing through the rotting flesh on his stomach. Tael doesn't reply or acknowledge the blow. He was slowly backing Maevee into a corner, near the base of the ruins of Lordaeron. Filled with a lusting for victory, Maevee ignores the movements, not realizing the potential danger she was being drawn into.

As they get closer, Tael finally screams, his fine voice carrying over the walls and deep into the depths of the Undercity. "Guards! Let it be known that Maevee Scourgebane, Forsaken warrior, is a traitor to our Queen! She claims no loyalty to the Dark Lady, and thus is no better than the Scourge we were saved from!" Maevee snarls and strings a shot of foul curses at Tael.
"Damn you back to the grave you came from, Tael. You gave me no choice." She hisses, and uses her tiny frame and quick speed to quickly get past Tael's defenses. Maevee plunges both of the long, thin swords into Tael's frame, and rips them across his torso. The blades make quick work of the rotting flesh and sinew, and Tael falls into two separate halves. Maevee sighs. She hadn't wanted to do that, not to Tael.

"Maevee Scourgebane!" Maevee whips her head around, viewing up the ramp leading into the city. A gathering amount of guards were already rushing down the steep hill towards her, and the one shouting her name was one of Slyvanas's personal guards.
“Maevee Scourgebane, you are a traitor to the Dark Lady! Murdering undead, you will be sent back to the binds of Death!”

Maevee laughed, knowing that wasn't quite so likely. She turned, leaping over the corpse of her one-time friend, and heads into the depths of the Plaguelands, where many of the Forsaken refused to follow. Through her expert woodland skills, Maevee shakes the brunt of the pursuit, and soon her name fades into a legendary status. Banshee Queen Slyvanas soon raises a massive bounty on the Forsaken's head, and it was this bounty that caught the interest of Undercity's most renown bounty hunters – Vinir, Yauir, and Renma.


The scene fades away, returning to Treeheart and Maevee. The Tauren says nothing, but walks away from Maevee, from where she first appeared.

“You seek power that would threaten the hold of Slyvanas, Thrall, and all other leaders of Azeroth.”
“That is what I want. That is what you will supply.”

“Maevee Scourgebane, the gem will grant you this power. But forces outside its control seek to stop your climb.”
“Forces? Vinir and his gang? Hah. They haven't the talent to bring me down.” The Tauren doesn't reply at first, but looks into the distant, dark woods.

“Doom is coming, Forsaken.”
“Not for me.”