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The Plaguelands.

Even to her undead eyes the place was forsaken. By the Alliance and Horde, Elune, the Earthmother and whatever other gods any felt like praying to. Only the mindless dead and remnants of scourge wandered its withering grounds.

It was here in these dying hill she discovered her home. Burned and gutted, unrecognizable from its former state.

Much like me, Lascivious thought to herself. “What happened here?”

“Burning Legion,” said the old goblin, Broknog. “Overran everything. Killed and converted everything that moved. If the plague didn’t get ya, they made sure you got got, if ya take my meaning.”

A small ruined shack caught Lascivious’ attention. Only two sides were left, the roof and door gone. But littering the area around it were dozens of dead animal. Especially rodent and birds. She reigned in Sam and dismounted. Inside the shack were several burst bags of grain. There had been many more, but the local animal had devoured them over the years. And now they lay dead. She lifted a hand full of moldy grain and let it drop slowly from her finger.

“Not good grain.”


“The grain. It’s not good,” Broknog repeated.

“Yes. I know.” She remembered that night. She didn’t want to eat but her mother made her. She was very young. Her sister was still in diapers. Sammuel and their father, Brogan, were away on a hunting trip. It took several days for the village to realize the grain was no good. They locked it in the shed to keep the animals from getting to it. Several people who ate the grain… well, they acted a bit funny, but not Harmony. She had been fine. Brushing her hands she mounted back up and headed into the ruins. They had always been isolated from the going-ons of the world around them. But even the villages remoteness could not keep them hidden from the eyes of the scourge. The grain was one reason her father had decided to enlist.

Stopping front of one of the building, she dismounted and stepped onto the black rubble. She paused looking around.

“What is it, deadie?”

“My home.” She ran a tongue over her dried lips. Home. Walking around the ruined building, she kicked about through the cinders until something caught her eye. A book. Lascivious bent and retrieved it with clawed fingers. The back cover was missing along with many pages. Most were burned, the edges torn and ragged. What few words were visible she could not read. Her mind struggled to penetrate the mysterious code, a code she once knew but had been erased from her memory. She didn’t need to read it to know what it was.

Her diary.

Lascivious thought about handing it to Broknog to translate, but something stayed her hand. Instead she tucked it into her saddlebag and mounted Sam once again. When she had learned the location of the village she had come to reap revenge on her murderers. But instead found her revenge stolen from her. Still… Sammuel survived. Maybe there were others who escaped the scourge. For now she would continue her search.

Unlike the scourge, she would not be merciful.

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