“What is this? Are you lost Vice-Executor?” Rasmorden tilted his helmet covered head as I glanced past him at the abominations lumbering in the distance. “Are you alone?” He asked, looking over my shoulder.
“I came for you Rasmorden; I'm not lost. And yes, I am alone.” I looked him over, raising an eyebrow under my cowl.
“I never know what tricks you Deathstalkers are up to.” He growled.
“I'm not here to trick you, Rasmorden. And technically I'm not a Deathstalker, I just trained with them.” His eyebrows flattened and he gave me a dry, uncaring expression. “Although to a Death Knight like you that may seem like a somewhat unimportant nuance.” I added quickly.

“Do you know why I sought you tonight, Rasmorden?” I spoke quietly, mostly because I wanted him to strain to hear me, but also because he had picked up his runeblade again and raising my voice seemed like a very bad idea. I went to rest the tips of my rotten fingers against the edge of his blade, I had no fear of cutting myself. I needed to get the weapon in position, I had to know exactly where it was. “Why is your weapon drawn?”