The Perfect Monster: A Tale of the Scourge By Matthew Perrett www.mattperrett.com mperrett@mattperrett.

com Ending: The Fate of the Dead Pudge fled through the woods surrounding Scholomance, moving as rapidly as the undergrowth would allow. The corrupted land seemed to spurn him as a traitor; branches snapped back at inopportune moments, thorny bushes laid deep scratches on his still-tender skin, and thick vines tripped him and slowed his progress. The abomination fought through them with grim determination and pressed on, knowing that any delays could spell his doom. Behind him, not far enough away for comfort, he heard the gibbering howl of a ghoul, a cry soon joined by several others. His pursuers were on his trail, and they would have much less difficulty making their way through the forest with their nimbler frames. Obey! Pudge stumbled as the mental command echoed in his skull, threatening to overwhelm his own thoughts. An outside force fought to control him, to force his body into immobility and his mind into silence. Turning with glacial speed it felt as if his body was encased in quicksand he spied a pair of necromancers leading a pack of ghouls out of the forest behind him. One of the mages was concentrating fiercely on controlling him, while the other was focused on keeping the ghouls from ripping him to shreds. It appeared that their orders were to capture him, but that was small comfort to the errant monster. Alexi had never seen fit to control his creation had never needed to and his lack of experience with the alien sensation made it that much harder to resist. The might of the Scourge commands you, abomination! You will obey! The voices in Pudge's head bubbled to the surface of his consciousness, drowning out the necromancer's voice enough for him to retain some measure of free will. His enemy's will was still in his head, fighting him for every inch, but he found that he had enough willpower of his own to fight back. The voices were weakening the effect of the mage's command! He lumbered ever so slowly towards the dark wizards, murder written on his face. He could smell the necromancers' fear as he pressed onward, gradually closing the gap like an unstoppable force of nature. OBEY! The other mage added his power to the battle for mental domination, and together they forced Pudge to halt his momentum. Sweat poured down their faces as they struggled to keep him from breaking free. Their concentration on him was so intense that they failed to

notice that their hold on the ghouls was slipping, something that Pudge did not miss. If he could only hold on just a little longer! OBEY YOUR MASTERS! OBEY THE SCOURGE! OBEY THE LICH KING! NO! Pudge roared at their voices with all the strength his mind could muster. The voices of the dead rallied with him, adding their willpower and cries of defiance to his. A horrible pressure filled his skull as they fought to annihilate his resistance with raw cerebral power, but the ghouls were growing increasingly restless OBEY OR DIE!!! Pudge will NOT obey! Pudge is FREE!!! The necromancers' tenuous hold over the ghouls snapped, and the ravenous undead turned on their masters in the blink of an eye. The mages screamed as their filthy claws and razorsharp teeth tore into them, and the pressure in Pudge's head vanished. He smiled grimly at their demise, but he didn't have the luxury of time to savor his victory. The abomination resumed his escape to freedom, not pausing to consider where he was going. He plunged deeper into the woods, making use of his enormous strength to clear obstacles and, with luck, stall the hunters. They would not try to capture him now, not after that display of strength. The hulking monstrosity continued his reckless flight for what felt like hours, but the sounds of pursuit refused to fade into the distance. Without warning, he hurdled out of the tree cover and into the open. Looking around frantically, he realized that he had stumbled onto a crossroads. Two paths lay before him: one to his left, the other to his right. With his pursuers getting closer by the minute, he knew he had only seconds to make a decision. Either path, or both, could lead him to his end, and there was no way to know where they would take him. The monster made his decision and broke into a run down the path to his left. Racing along the trail, Pudge scanned the area for potential avenues of escape. If he stayed in the open too long, the ghouls would outrun him and bring him down like a pack of wolves. He had to find some cover a river to cross, a mountain to climb, anything that would get them off his trail! Pudge's undead heart sank when he turned a corner and saw Blood Elves in his path the retreating survivors of the battle. Seconds later, he realized the advantage this gave him and, gritting his teeth, charged forward resolutely. Al'anara turned quickly at the sound of heavy footsteps. Caught off-guard, it took her a few seconds to react to the abomination bearing down on her. "Form ranks! Form ranks!" she yelled frantically. To their credit, the exhausted elves swiftly moved into fighting positions. The archers fired at Pudge, attempting to slow him down while their warriors put down the wounded and readied their weapons.

Shrugging off arrows like insect bites, Pudge continued his charge, bowling through the elven line and sending his opponents sprawling. Al'anara quickly recovered, but looked on in stunned shock as the abomination did not, in fact, attack them, but rather seemed interested only in running past them. As the hulking monster disappeared around a bend in the road, she wondered what possessed the creature to run as if the hounds of hell were at its heels. This one was different, she suddenly realized, like the other undead that fought uncontrolled. If only she could capture it, it would be the perfect specimen to decipher the nature of the Scourge's new creations! Seconds later a pack of ghouls launched themselves at the survivors, and the elves were once again fighting for their lives. -------------------------------------------------Pudge, sensing that his maneuver had bought him some time, took the opportunity to climb into the hills of the Plaguelands. A few minutes later, he found a convenient pocket that concealed him from sight but also gave him a good view of the terrain below him. Confident that he was safe, at least for the time being, he took a seat on the dead earth and pondered his next move. Despite what he had said to his master, Pudge truthfully had no idea how to free the souls trapped in his flesh. He didn't think that killing or eating would solve the problem, and he doubted that he would find anything in the Plaguelands that would satisfy them. Suddenly, he remembered something that Alexi had told him once that ghosts were spirits who were still clinging to the world, and that the only good way to get rid of a ghost was to release them from that attachment. If that were true, he would have to track down the places or people these damned souls had known in life, figure out what their attachment to the world was, and find a way to set them free. A difficult task by any stretch of the imagination, one only made worse by the fact that Pudge was an undead monster, and would not be welcome in the slightest in the lands of the living. He barely knew where to begin. mommy i want to go home i miss you so much and it's so cold The little boy again...and with a desire so powerful and obvious that even Pudge, who was no candidate for the Kirin Tor, picked up immediately. Little boy, where is your mother? Where is your home? It was as good a start as any, Pudge thought with rising hope. The first step on a long road, but one that could lead him all of them to freedom.

-------------------------------------------------Alexi Romerov returned to consciousness slowly, his mind emerging from a thick haze that dulled his thoughts. The first thing he noticed was the sky, which was quite out of the ordinary. Streams of dark red and blue clouds, or something else entirely? swirled hypnotically and blended into tumultuous seas of vibrant purple. Black patches competed with the pulsating colors, some with star patterns he failed to recognize, others vacant holes in the sky, gateways to oblivion that gnawed at the churning flows like rats. It occurred to him, after watching this strange sky for a length of time he couldn't seem to measure, that he was lying on his back as he gazed upwards. What was beneath him didn't feel like the cold stone of Scholomance, however. He ran his hands over the surface, trying to identify it, and finally concluded that it was dirt and grass he was touching. Grabbing what felt like a small handful of earth, he lifted a hand to his face so he could see it with his own eyes. It was dark and moist, with small pebbles and bits of dark green grass clinging to it. The wonderfully familiar smells of home and life emanated from the loosely packed dirt, and gradually he remembered that this was the rich farming soil of his homeland. Strange, the reaction he was having to the stuff...he'd always hated the idea of becoming a farmer, like his father and his father's father. He couldn't have gotten away from his home and his family fast enough, so why was it bringing back such pleasant memories now? Turning over his hand to put the dirt down, he stopped to examine the smooth, unwrinkled, unblemished skin. How long had it been since he had skin like that? It was hard to think past the haze, but he knew it had been decades. He had had perfect skin like this as a boy, before he had shut himself in dark rooms to learn the secrets of the universe and forgot the wonders of life at his fingertips. Was he regretting what he had done, what he had devoted his life to learning? It wasn't like him. Setting the soil down gently, he reached up and ran a hand through his hair. It was thick and silky, and oddly, he didn't mind the dirt that he was rubbing into it. Tugging gently, he pulled away a single strand and held it up to his face. Long and black, just the way it had been in his youth. He chuckled, deciding that he enjoyed the smooth timbre of his voice. Lying there, waiting for the haze to clear so he could think straight again, Alexi slowly put the pieces together. "I'm dead," he stated calmly, untroubled by the revelation. "There's no other explanation. I'm dead." He sat up, unhindered by the aching joints and muscles that had plagued him for years. He wore a simple black robe, the one the Kirin Tor had given him when he became an apprentice. Carefully, he moved his hands over his torso, looking for the gaping abdominal wound he expected to find. It was gone. His body was whole, healthy and young...probably the one he had possessed in his early twenties. He wished he had a mirror, then dismissed the vain desire.

Standing was an easy, graceful process, unburdened by pain, and his spine was straight again. He felt tall, though as he looked around, he saw that his environment was lacking any sort of scale or reference. He stood on a grassy plain, very much like his homeland, only it went on forever in every direction. There were no trees, no buildings, no people, no hills...only a perfectly flat landscape. "Definitely dead," he told himself, enjoying the vibrant tones in his voice that he hadn't heard for many years. Alexi inhaled deeply, taking in more of the delightful smell surrounding him. "Hm," he said to himself as he gazed peacefully at the lack of scenery. "Not exactly what I expected, it's true, but certainly better than what I feared." He found his thoughts turning to Pudge, the son he never had, and his heart ached with affection and sympathy for his creation. "Poor Pudge," he whispered, shaking his head. "Poor nave Pudge and his freedom. There is very little freedom in life for any of us...though I hope he finds what he can of it, I suppose." Looking up, Alexi stared at the strange sky, allowing the swirling chaos to occupy his mind. "Fascinating," he said, pondering its mysteries. "I wonder where Azeroth is in that patchwork void. I could spend an eternity studying it, and never know every secret." He lowered his head and sighed, a slight smile crossing his features. "That wouldn't be so bad, in the end. I could get used to this...being free." Then the pain in his chest hit. As his vision went to black, he felt his body hit the endless plain, and the only peace he had ever known disappeared forever. -------------------------------------------------Alexi awoke suddenly, gasping for a breath that never came. Every ache, every wound, every agony was back in full measure as unbelievably powerful necromantic magic dragged his consciousness back from the Twisting Nether and forced him into his body again. His body was dead but he was reliving its dying and he couldn't breathe A wave of cold more terrible than anything he had ever experienced swept over him, stripping away his aging flesh and exposing worn bones to the elements. The cold numbed the anguish of reborn existence but burned like fire, and he writhed and struggled to get free of the excruciating sensations. The freezing fire burned him from the inside out, cruelly searing away everything that made him human, every part of him that was Alexi Romerov. His master's voice rang in his empty skull, demanding obedience or death, and he knew he could not refuse any more than he could fade away to oblivion. When the process ended, after an eternity of agony, what arose from the cold, rune-covered slab was not Alexi Romerov, High Necromancer of the Scourge, but something else entirely. Clothed in ice and glacial winds, the skeleton descended to the floor, its feet never touching the ground. Raw power over cold and death surged through its form, though it found itself unable to care. The Lich King's voice receded to a whisper, reminding it to obey, to serve the Scourge. It knew the Lich King had bound it in eternal

servitude until nothing remained of its physical existence, and even after that, eons of formless undeath awaited it. It had lost freedoms it never knew it had, and it would have wept if it still possessed any shred of emotion...but there was only the cold. It examined its new form without interest or curiosity as two necromancers stepped forward and swathed its body with the ceremonial robes of a lich. Ras Frostwhisper glided from the magical focus at the far end of the room and stopped in front of the newly risen undead. Reaching up, it placed a large gemstone, dull and pulsating erratically with unholy light, around the neck of the other lich. "You are a lich now," it said simply, "and this is your phylactery. Its destruction will annihilate your soul. Never lose it." The being that had been Alexi nodded. There was no need to say anything. "As a lich," Ras continued, "you have great power, but also great responsibility. Night and day, you serve the Scourge in all ways. Your time is no longer your own it is the Lich King's. Do you accept these conditions?" A tiny remnant of its old self, buried in the back of its mind, wanted to reply, Damn the Scourge, and damn the Lich King! Let me die in peace! The entity that it had become had no choice but to say, "I accept." Its voice echoed, a hollow shell in the absence of life. Ras gazed at its companion impassively for several long minutes, as if aware of the inner conflict. "Men grown accustomed to all things," it said quietly, "even death. You will learn." It gestured for the other lich to follow, and the two glided towards the door. Before they left the room, Ras paused in the doorway. "What do you wish to call yourself? Alexi Romerov?" The entity shook its head dispassionately. "Alexi Romerov is dead. I am..." It hesitated. "I don't know what I am." The senior lich considered for a moment before speaking. "You are Alexi Winterbringer. Is this acceptable?" Alexi nodded. "Alexi Winterbringer. It is...fitting." "Good. Now we must discuss Pudge. He disobeyed your orders and fled from Scholomance, forsaking the Scourge. He must be hunted down and destroyed as a traitor." Alexi held up a skeletal hand. "I request that you call off pursuit of Pudge. I believe that he is not a danger to the Scourge, and tracking him is a waste of our time and resources." Ras stared at Alexi, searching for the other lich's motives. "You are not saying this because of your feelings for the abomination?" "I have no feelings," Alexi replied emotionlessly. "You know this as well as I do."

Frostwhisper made no motions, but seemed to accept Alexi's words. "Then why?" "Pudge is unique. The others feared his intelligence, and modified my process to create minions that are more pliable. With Pudge gone, no one will dare make an abomination like him again. The odds of such a problem occurring a second time are so small that they are insignificant. Also, Pudge has no allies. He is safe nowhere, and will surely be slain eventually by the living." Ras considered this for a long while, then nodded. "Your argument is sound. It is, however, unfortunate to lose such a valuable subject. We could have learned much from him." Alexi merely gazed past Frostwhisper at the world outside. A small part of it wondered where Pudge was now, though it could not summon up the emotion to care about what might happen to its creation. "Pudge was...too intelligent for his own good. This is the best way this could have ended...for all of us."