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| Details |
| Author: | Aly |
| Summary: | A haunting story from Ralaea's past, explaining present morals. |
| Rating: | M for Mature 17+ |
***
The place was known as Pine. Some called it Pine Town, but only those who weren’t from around there. It was hardly a town. Too small to be on any maps, Pine was nestled deep in a forest in Northern Lordaeron, and it had seemingly escaped the Plague. There were rumors, though, and those rumors had reached the Scarlet Crusade, prompting them to send the squad of Commander Kaela Mondragon, “The Doomed Children” to handle the situation.
The squad of fifteen camped in the hills south of Pine, where the Commander read off their orders from a scroll she had received before they departed. “It appears that the people of Pine have indeed come into contact with the plague of undeath, and are now tainted by the Scourge.”
At this, a ripple of fearful murmurings erupted through the squad, and Ralaea reached for her swords. If that was true, the infection could be anywhere. She scanned the trees, jumping when Jothran’s shadow shifted beside her. He ducked his head, giving her an apologetic look.
The Commander continued, “It is only a matter of time until they turn, and as such, it is our duty to wipe them out before they can, thus sparing our forces a multitude of casualties.”
It made sense. Every time they engaged the Scourge, lives were lost. Better to head it off now, while their enemy was weak. Ralaea sharpened her weapons while waiting for nightfall. They would strike while the hamlet was sleeping.
Under Commander Mondragon’s guidance, they were precise and calculating about it. Not a single person was allowed to escape. First they hit the watchmen. There were only about five in total, taken down from the shadows by Taya, or shot from their towers by the Commander herself. Ralaea had always admired her ability to use any weapon with skill and competence.
The squad had two novice mages, Mira Lightweald, and Brynn Barnes, though he was often called B.B. for short. They, along with Alver and Mevlin, set off into the woods surrounding Pine at the Commander’s order, leaving the rest of them to take up positions along the hamlet’s main road. The road the enemy would be forced to take. They stood like a net, weapons in hand, blocking any path to freedom as the fires sprang up around Pine, hot and hungry.
It wasn’t long before screams filled the night air, and the first of the tainted came running. In the dark, their faces were hard to see, the shadows playing across them in a mad dance, driving fear upon fear into Ralaea’s heart. What if they were contagious? Did the plague spread easier if the carrier was still alive? Terror drove her blades as she cut down enemy after enemy, fighting back against their cries for help.
It’s them or us.
Finally, eventually, the flow of tainted became a trickle, then stopped entirely. The fire had spread to every house, and the screams had at last gone silent. They stayed in position until Mira, Brynn, Alver, and Mevlin returned, confirming no one had escaped a different way.
Ralaea looked around for her Commander, and found her staring up at the black smoke billowing into the sky, her twin swords still bloody in her hands and her helmet on the ground at her feet. “We… We will not be doing this again.”
Her words felt like cold water over Ralaea’s head. All the adrenaline drained away, leaving her to stare out over the battlefield that once was a hamlet, at the bodies that once had been people. Living people. But still…
“They were plagued!” Rayan shouted out, echoing her thoughts. “We did ourselves a favor—and them, too, by killing them now.”
Commander Mondragon turned to face him. “And if they weren’t?” She sounded tired. Her shoulders drooped in a way Ralaea had never seen before. It made arguing somehow feel…wrong.
“If they weren’t…what, weren’t tainted?” Rayan glanced around at the bodies. “That would mean that we’ve just…killed a bunch of folks…for no reason.”
Silence, interrupted only by the crackling of flames, settled over them as the implications sunk in.
“None of them look all that tainted,” Jothran said at last, crouching beside the body of a middle-aged woman. “There really isn’t a way to tell, is there?”
“No,” the Commander replied. “There’s not.”
Behind her, Ralaea heard someone throwing up. Jothran murmured a prayer to the Light. She herself squeezed shut her eyes, but the images were already burned into her mind.
“Are any of them… Any of them, still alive? Even one? Does anyone know?” Jenzelle was nearly in tears, pleading for someone she could save from this nightmare, but there was no one. The residents of Pine had gone.
Feeling a heavy hand on her shoulder, Ralaea opened her eyes to find Jothran standing in front of her. “Rae.” He tipped his head towards the hills they had approached from. “It’s time to go. Before the fire gets out of hand.”
And so they left, different people than when they arrived, and the rules changed for their squad alone.
Kill only Scourge.