| abstract | - Senior Knight Imoen looked through her mail. One letter caught her attention immediately, a crisp white parchment, sealed with Scarlet Wax. She broke the seal and read: From Brother Wroxten, Second Undersecretary to General Abbendis, Tyr’s Hand. Imoen read the letter again, trembling from anger and distress. How could this have come to pass when she had last seen Louise the previous night, smiling, full of life and looking forward to returning home. Imoen raised a fist to her brow and sobbed aloud.
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* Louise lay crying, face down on her bunk, her bare back glistening with freshly drawn blood. She bit the thin red blanket in an effort to stop herself from crying aloud. Imoen had promised her she would not be flogged, but the Tyrs Hand Superiors had done it anyway. Louise lacked any energy to rise and collect her few belongings for the return journey to Stormwind. Better to let her back heal before she tried to even dress. Her mind swam with exhaustion. She was on the beach in Stranglethorn, laughing with Hejin, the sun on her face, waves lapping at the shore, but the sun was too hot on her back, and now Hejin was shouting at her, ordering her to get up! Louise woke up in a start, her back burning from the pain. Brother Wroxten was shouting at her: “Get up get up get up” he screamed “You, Louise, Saul, Valmar, get to Andorhal and investigate the Scourge’s activities. Move it!” Saul and Valmar, sullen brothers with thin frames and northern accents, scrambled into their armor. Louise sat up, blanket covering her front, and tried to dress. She put on two shirts as extra padding, then painfully buckled on her armour. She nearly fainted but pinched her arm hard to keep herself from crying. The three marched out past other sleeping Brethren to the courtyard, where horses had been saddled. Valmar helped Louise mount and they set off through the drizzle for Andorhal. Wroxten had been right, there was unusual activity at Andorhal. The undead Scourge were gathering, preparing for something. But what he hadn’t told them was how many were in the army. The stench of rotting flesh made the trio gag, as they crouched behind a bush, watching. “We should go back and report” said Saul in his strange accent. “No brother. Discipline without Question” said Valmar. “If today is our turn to die, then glory to the Crusade!” He drew his sword. Louise said nothing, her eyes full of tears, her back a pulsing mass of pain. Saul staggered to his feet with Valmar, pulling Louise up with him. They crept around the back of the inn, swords drawn, the moonlight shining on their Scarlet mail. Saul stood on tiptoe and looked through the inn window. Louise looked too. Inside, two bodies of civilians were spread on the floor, being canabalized by undead. Valmar turned his head and threw up over his boots. A blood curdling groan filled the fetid air. Louise and Saul turned to see a jawless rotting undead lumbering towards them. Worse, the yell had alerted more Scourge who had drawn their weapons. Their Scarlet training kicked the three to life, they formed a line of shields and rushed the Scourge. Valmar, his tabard dripping with vomit, was injured first, his shield arm hung uselessly by his side. As Louise fought, the adrenaline and endorphins surged through her body. She felt light headed and easily despatched three undead, their spirits gratefully floating free to peace. She began hallucinating: The Scourge were attacking Stormwind, Saul and Valmar changed to Thepol and Harsufeld, Louise was wearing a high ranking Scarlet uniform, and was clutching the hand of a girl child which she had to protect... Louise could no longer feel the blood soaking the back of both her shirts, nor the slashes she had taken to her arms, stomach and neck. She laughed as one Undead raised a club and smashed it down on her head. She smiled as she lost consciousness. Louise woke to hear screaming, and then realised it was herself screaming. A wicked knife was pressed into her bare leg, carving the flesh from her thigh. She tried to struggle and found she was tied up securely. She realised she was in the inn’s kitchen, she could see ashes glowing in the hearth through the darkness. She smelled the rotting breath of the scourge torturing her, and smelled meat cooking. On the glowing embers lay a human arm, sizzling. Horribly, she saw the scarlet gauntlet was still on the hand, and knew it must be Saul’s who was nowhere to be seen. Louise screamed again as the knife took off another flap of flesh from her thigh bone. Valmar lay slumped in a corner, the front of his tabard bathed in blood, all his teeth missing, and his leg at a broken angle. He was panting in agony. As Louise watched, he started dragging himself to the door, out of view of the Undead torturing Louise. She screamed again, bursting a fresh wound on her jaw, and lost consciousness again.
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