"The Scourge plague?"
Although people were unfamiliar with it at the time, the name alone was enough to send a chill down their spines.
"Stay away from that corpse. The plague on it is contagious!" Arthas warned as well.
He did not seem to know everything the way Rhode did, but his recent struggle against that dark power with the Holy Light had given him some understanding of the plague.
Lieutenant Varokar had only been infected in his finger, but if the infection spread to someone's body, Arthas was not confident that his Holy Light could cleanse damage of that severity.
At Arthas's warning, everyone took a step back in unison, distancing themselves from the corpse.
Rhode sank deeper into thought.
In the history of Azeroth he knew, the Scourge plague had originated in the northern Kingdom of Lordaeron, spreading from Andorhal to Stratholme and then throughout the world.
But his intervention had dealt a blow to Kel'Thuzad and the Cult of the Damned's earliest operations, changing the course of history.
The undead Scourge had never appeared in Lordaeron. Instead, it had made its first appearance here, on a farm in Stromgarde!
Moreover, the Arathi Highlands now harbored a Dreadlord of the Burning Legion, Orc Warlocks of the Shadow Council, and the utterly ruthless Syndicate. There had to be members of the Cult of the Damned spreading the plague here as well!
All these evil forces gathered here at once-just how big a disaster were they planning to cause?
Damn, surely this wasn't like those sci-fi movies I'd watched, like The Butterfly Effect, where trying to change history only made things worse?
No, it couldn't be. My fate still had to be in my own hands!
Wouldn't wiping out these forces one by one solve the problem?
Rhode unconsciously clenched