Brigitte had forgotten. She'd forgotten just what it was like to be among the living, forgotten just how loud and boisterous they could be, how oppressively present they could be. She'd grown used to the subdued natures of those around her, even back when she'd been in place as the Onslaught's so called High General, those around her had been distant and cold. They'd been living, technically, but they'd only been tools and pawns. They'd lost that part of them that bred this joy in company, this part of them that held camaraderie high. They'd become almost as quiet as the members of the Ebon Blade who had surrounded Brigitte since her rescue. The noises of the Onslaught had been those of routines drilled into them over years, empty prayers and desolate bells. The life had drained from them just as surely as it had been taken from the death knights who surrounded her now.

I learn to live again amongst the dead. There was an irony there, but who valued that more than those who had lost life and had no chance of reclaiming it?

Once, she had sought this sort of surroundings out, reveled in them, the food, the drink, the companionship. When had she lost that? Once, being an officer, a leader, had made her the first among equals. That had all faded away when she'd lost herself and had been driven into the role of a false leader, a twisted shadow of the commander she had once been. But now, she felt out of place, overwhelmed, and when had that ever been the case? These were just people, soldiers...once, she'd shared an almost instant bond with those. She'd been raised with people just like this, to be one of them. Now she was a stranger, now she had more in common with the two men she stood with; the two silent, ominous forms looming over her.

Why am I here? She understood that, eventually, she would have to step out in public. She'd volunteered for that, she'd asked for that. Certainly, Darion had stated firmly that he intended to use her as an adviser and that made sense. She'd been geared to fill that role, and it was fairly obvious that the sheer magnificence of that gear had been designed to draw attention to her...there was no hiding when she was harnessed in this. Darion had stated he intended to hide her in plain sight, but she hadn't quite realized just how far to the front that he meant to push her.

It's too soon for this.

No, it was too damned late. The longer she put this off, the more difficult it was going to be. If she wasn't willing to stand up here, now, then she should have just taken Darion's first offer to send her to a nice, safe, warm place far away from this. That would be intolerable, to sit safely by while the battle she'd been truly looking for was joined without her. She'd spent so many years trying to destroy the Scourge threat, and that would only be accomplished here, not picking away at those undead infesting the devastated remnants of Lordaeron. No, she was exactly where she was supposed to be, standing in a hall filled with loud soldiers. If she just glanced over them, if she didn't focus on their blazons, this could have been a memory of years ago, decades ago. When she'd been younger, she'd been surrounded by soldiers with Lordaeron's blazon, or that of the Silver Hand, but those had fallen by the wayside. Then they'd worn that of the Scarlet Crusade, and finally, the Onslaught's variant. None of those were displayed here...there was the familiar lion of Stormwind and a few that she did not recognize. She'd let herself be cut off from the world and those in it. Never again.

"This way." Darion's voice was barely above a chill breath, but Brigitte heard it as clearly as if he was whispering the words just an inch from her ear. He led her through the packed hall while the crowds parted before him, headed straight for the door on the other side. He barely paused for the two guards stationed on either side to acknowledge him, give him the barest pass before he opened the door and strode through, Brigitte and Thassarian on his heels. Beyond was a briefing room, exactly like a dozen others that Brigitte had stood in, both on this continent and in Lordaeron. The very familiarity of it set her nerves on edge, everything had changed, why did it seem like nothing had? It was easy to know the difference on Acherus. There were none of these echoes of a past life there, only the fresh memories of her new one.

Darion's move to push her to the table's edge was subtle, but her first instinct was still to slide away from him, to keep a slight distance from him and he seemed to be aware of it, using it to his advantage. But try as she might, and she had tried, she couldn't quite get over the visceral unease she experienced when he, or any of the others, were too close. It was slight, nagging, but always present. No matter what, no matter how much she fought it, they caused her that hint of distress. She could fight it and win, but she knew trying it here would go against what Darion wanted from her. He wanted her at the edge of the table...either she accepted his gentle crowding or he would give her a physical push to get her there.

She made the edge of the map table, given space by two of the armored forms arrayed around it. Paladins. She was once again standing pauldron to pauldron with paladins, paladins who had not fallen with her. It was not an idea she was entirely comfortable with, but that was why she wore the gear of the Ebon Blade instead of wearing any one of the myriad of tabards that the others wore. She would need to earn their trust and she was much more at ease with that idea than with the thought that she deserved their trust simply for still being a paladin. At least these were all strangers, she wasn't going to be required to deal with someone she'd known...once.

This is not the first time you've stood at a map table, you know how to do this.

Yes, yes, she did. Even when she'd been rotten and lost, she'd been better than competent at this. She took a long moment to absorb the map, ignoring the open stares that the others gave her, ignoring the pause in the briefing. While she probably knew Northrend better than most of the living here, she had the harsh luck to know the other side of the continent from where she stood.

"I want you with the west shore push. I want you in Valiance Keep. I want you as far from New Hearthglen as I can get you." It was a prudent decision from Darion, it was the correct decision, but it still left her far away from the area she was familiar with.

"You must be...Sorrow. General Sorrow?" The man who had been giving the briefing finally broke his pause and she considered his words.

I am High General Brigitte Abbendis... She twisted her lips, her features safely obscured in the shadows of her cowl. She'd shed her helmet freely enough, the cowl was the object that had been enchanted to hide her identity. "I am Sorrow." It took a bit for her to claim it, but she had to be called something in place of her actual name and it would do. Darion's gaze was an almost palpable chill focused on the back of her head and she accepted the rest of it all in the next sentence. "General of the Ebon Blade." Darion had been very clear about that one, he considered her a general still and now she was claimed by the Ebon Blade. Which made her a general of the Ebon Blade. She was hazy on just how many he happened to have, if there were others, she didn't know of them. But she had only been among their number for a few weeks, much of that time spent in cautious isolation. She didn't know a great deal about them...yet.

Her words caused some faint mutterings around the table, barely audible over the background noise from the hall. Brigitte knew that Darion had demanded the right to have a general on the ground as part of his commitment to the offensive, parity for the command that the Alliance Vanguard was going to be exercising over his people, a nod to the very large amount of intelligence that they had handed over to support this. This map reflected that, Brigitte could see all of the Scarlet strongholds she'd given up marked on it. I sold them out. Yes, she had, and it was just one more terrible thing that she was guilty of. She had sent them here, and then she'd turned on them.

They are as corrupted and lost as the Scourge is.

She'd said that before, thought that before, told herself that she was doing the right thing...before. And she'd been horribly wrong then. But what else did she have to guide her but what she saw to be right and necessary? But there was no one here who was blameless to show her the way, Darion had gone just as badly as she had.

"We were expecting Thalanor."

And you get me instead. Darion was silent, waiting for her to take the initiative and speak on her own behalf. He'd become involved only if he needed to, and if he did, she would have failed. "You expected the Ebon Blade's second?" While she didn't have him accurately identified, she was certain that he wasn't the Vanguard's second, yet he expected theirs. "Thalanor stays with our forces." That only made sense, Darion didn't need to tell her it was how they intended on playing this. She made sense here, playing both field general and liaison. Dread Commander Thalanor made sense right where he was, on Acherus, with the Ebon Blade's main cohort. They'd follow him, she was a stranger to them still.

"Put that way, no." He stared at her and she stared back, relying on the fact that the Ebon Blade held its secrets close. He'd love to ask the questions but she didn't need to answer them. Who was she? Why did Darion, of all people, call her general? She stood here with a hidden face, a false name and absolutely no history, which put her on the same standing as many in the Ebon Blade. It was a gift she wasn't about to spoil and it was perversely satisfying to be able to keep things to herself. She didn't trust him or any of these others with that information...maybe, maybe, if Tirion was here, she'd trust him. Or maybe not, she wasn't certain.

"She is a better choice for this, Barton. I've done you a favor." Darion growled. "There will be no other from our ranks. Deal with her, or don't deal with us at all."

Brigitte ignored the words, leaning in to get a better look at the map, her attention locked on her current location. While she'd had forces on Northrend for years, this was not the area they'd been focused on. She'd been readying the Scarlet Crusade for evacuation, their lands in Lordaeron becoming more and more obviously an untenable position...following the visions that came to her as she slept. Visions. Her heart sank and she gripped the table edge for a long moment, fighting down a wobbly nausea. Not visions. Not true visions.

Well, maybe or maybe not, but the imperative had been valid, the loss of New Avalon and Tyr's Hand proved that she'd had at least that part of it correct. She had not been so blinded that she'd missed the obvious and she'd made the right calls at the right times to at least begin the evacuation to Northrend. It had taken years to construct New Hearthglen, and that cost of materiel and manpower had condemned her northern Lordaeron holdings.

They were gone anyway.

True enough. Looking back at things she could not fix only hurt, it did not help. She was here now, far from the Onslaught, far from everything that had dragged her down for years. "So, what are we doing?" She asked, dragging the paladin's attention from Darion and back to her...where it belonged. They didn't have much time, she needed to catch up quickly.