I left Tirisfal for the first time today. After waking up, I decided that...I could be of more use elsewhere. That's one of the nice things about being a Death Guard. If the Lady hasn't assigned you a strict mission, you are free to roam and further the cause of the Forsaken or their allies.

I left the Undercity, but, instead of walking out into Tirisfal I took a left at the causeway and stepped infront of the Orb of Translocation. A new device, apparently, that would allow me to travel to Silvermoon. Home of the illustrious Blood Elves, and former home of the Dark Lady.

Touching the orb, my vision swirled.  And the next thing I knew, I was in the most lovingly appointed room I'd been in since my days at Lordaeron with Arthas. Whoever lived here, clearly was rich or or royalty, or both. Stepping from the chamber I walked around the platform and out onto a rise. And I looked out over....a throne room.

The room, at this point, was empty save for one elf. Huldruon Brightwing. Again, someone from my past. As I decended to gangway ramp, he walked over and scrutinized my face.  "Erikson Brighthammer?" He asked. "I thought you were...."

"I was. I was a Death Knight and slave to the Lich King." I related my tale as he stood there. If an elf's jaw could drop, his certainly did.

Then, the strangest thing happened. A single tear rolled from the corner of his eye and down his face. "I'm so very sorry my friend."

I waved the apology aside. "I made my choice, Hulduron. I am to blame. But, Arthas will pay for stealing my free will."

Huldron nodded, and blinked his green eyes. So, he was a blood elf now. "What are you doing here, my friend?"

I shrugged. "I am a Death Guard now, in service to Lady Sylvanas. When not on a mission for her, I am allowed to travel where I will and help those who are friends of the Forsaken. Is there anything that Silvermoon needs doing that an old, dead warrior like I could help with?"

Brightwing rubbed his smooth shaven face, and looked at me. "Yes, there is. The Trolls are enroaching again. The Amani.  The Farstriders need all the help they can get."

I nodded. "Very well, which way?"

"To the north," he responded. "There you will find a large villa called Farstriders Retreat. Go there, and speak with the commanding officer. I'm sure she'll have more than a few things that you could help with. When you are done there, if you have time, head to Tranquillien in the Ghostlands."

"Yes, one of my fellow agents is there. Apparently they are trying to reclaim the woods from the Scourge. I am more than happy to help."

Then Hulduron surprised me again. Elves are not known for their displays of emotion, but he reached out and clasped my hand, then drew me close. Embracing me. ME. The one who had destroyed his city! I had helped Arthas RAZE this place. I had been part of the cause for Sylvanas' down fall.  He looked at me. "All is forgiven." And left.

I wanted to cry, but realised I could not. My tear ducts had long since rotted.

I continued through the illustrious Blood Elf city, watching what was left of their decimated population ignore me, cower when the saw me, or glare at me with hate and malice.  And still others nodded as I walked passed. Some could, obviously, distinguish mentally between the Scourge and the Forsaken. Others, could not.

Walking through Quel'Thalas I stopped at the Dead Scar. The long highway of Blight that ran through the middle of the Ghostlands, Quel'Thalas and right up to the Sunwell on Quel'Danas Island. I was horrorfied to see what I had done. What I had created. The bokes of the lost still sat littered among the shambling zombies, under marginal control from Deatholme.

Turning back I made my way to the Farstriders Retreat and conversed with their leader. The task was simple. Kill the tribal leader of this sect of Amani. And bring his head back. Something had happened to the elves. The were collecting trophies now. Regardless, I didn't care. A job was a job, and if it helped an ally, it helped the Forsaken.

To be certain, this was the kind of thing the Death Guard were trained for. That said, I'm not one of your regular, sneak in, kill him and take his head. Oh no. They'll know I'm coming.  And so they did. I walked into Zul'Nwara, and drew my blade from my back. There, on the top of the largest hut was the chief tain. Easily recognizable by his banner and headdress. I pointed at him, and he screamed in the Troll Language, and gestured wildly at me.
Then they came. The Berserkers. HUGE trolls wielding twin axes, their faces painted a meriad of colors. I laughed and dropped into a fighting stance. They had no idea who they were dealing with.

You see, the thing with berserkers is that they are fast, without a doubt, but i'm faster. They are stronger than I am, for certain, but I'm the one wearing armor.

The frist troll ran at me, he was a lot quicker than I was expecting. Maybe I'm not faster, I thought to myself. He bowled be over. I hit the ground on my shoulder and rolled. Instincts born from years of training kicked in and I lashed out with my blade, parrying his axe. I slid Darkener along the edge of the axe, and caught it on the cross guard.

Bringing my elbow in I caught the Troll in the face, shattering his green nose. He roared in frustration and redoubled his efforts. The problem with berserking, is that you don't think. Which was fine with me. He swung, and stepped inside the arc as it went wide and plowed Darkener into his gullet. Then, placing my foot against his chest I shoved him off and riposted around, cutting another troll's throat out as he attempted to tackle me off his friend.

The last one lept in a feral rage. "Fine.." I breathed. "We'll play your way." 

I shoved Darkener into the ground, and reached up with my hands. One hand I brust through his chest, the other gripped his throat. I ripped the one free from his chest and licked the blood off my hand. "You trolls need to learn that I'm a lot scarier than you could ever be."  My calw like hands tightened on his neck, and burst into his veins as I tore his throat out.

There was a lound, warbling cry, I looked to the roof, but the chief as gone. Too late, I turned. He was behind me, swinging his massive sword. Catching me across the chest, it bit into my mail. Grunting with pain, I hit the ground. Scrambling for purchase I grabbed Darkner as the huge troll continued his assault.

He battered my blade out of the way and heaved, catching me in the jaw. I heard the bone crack as it dislocated. Again I hit the ground. My breath was rattling through my rotting chest. The troll stood over me, laughing.  I looked at him, an grabbed my jaw, popping it free of my face then quickly snapping in back into place.

"My trun, greenie."  I moved headbutting him in the stomach. He dubbled over, and warbled again in that unitelligable language. Not like the musical Zandalari that the Trolls of the Horde spoke.

"I've heard it before." I said "So keep it to your...SELF!" I swung darkener with all my unnatural strength, cleaving the troll's hand off.  He screamed in pain as blood leaked down his arm. Moving in, I kicked him in the chest dropping him to his knees.

"You will not harm another Elf. No more will you kill." I brought Darkener down and removed his head, it bounced along the grass leaving a slick trail of blood. The body jerked a moment, then was still. I picked up the head and made my way back down the path towards Farstriders Retreat.

After arriving, the Elves thanked me for removing the menace. They invited me to stay to eat. That's the odd thing about the rest of the Horde. They assume that, since I am undead, that i cannot eat. Far from it, especially taking into account HOW I became undead, my taste buds were still functioning.

They prepared a beautiful roast, with a lovely yellow sauce that was sweet and spicy at the same time. When we had finished, another Forsaken walked through the door. A Deathstalker.

"Deathguard Proditus?"

I stood, "Yes, Deathstalker. I am he."

He passed me an envelope. "The Dark Lady requests your presence in Silverpine Forest. There have been some...problems at the Sepulcher. She also sends this, as a measure of her trust in you." He held out a sword.

"It is only temproary, so you do not forget what you are working towards. She apologizes that the blade itself is weak and will be replaced.  But, it was the best that the Blacksmith in the Undercity could make with such short notice as we have. The Lady begs your forgiveness."

I blinked. "The Lady does not beg anything of me. She demands, and she will have. I thank her." I pulled Darkener from my bag, and touched it to the sword he held out. It absorbed the blade quick as thinking and the original sword crumbled into dust. The Deathstalker stared, amazed.

"You were a Death Knight then."

I nodded. "Yes, and now my blade as a portion of its power for a while. Untill I change blades I think. Slashing it through the air, I focused all my energy on the weapon, and a bolt of dark energy shot from the tip. "This will do quite nicely. Tell the Lady I will be in the Sepulcher by the end of the week. And it is her pleasure to keep me there as long as I am needed."

The Deathstalker saluted, bowed to the Elves, and left. Sliding the blade to my back, I found a corner to lay in, and pulled my journal out to write. It would be a long walk to the Sepulcher. I do not have the inscription on my map to allow a Bat to fly there with me. The note from Sylvanas detailed who to speak with and only one other line. "Beware Arugal."