Many years have gone by since my last encounter with the love of my life. She was a beautiful blue eyed, brown hair and a firm but slender body.
I loved her and asked her to marry me. She said yes, and our honeymoon was wonderful, right up until the Horde came and murdered all in the area.
We ran and managed to get to the woods with a few others. I looked behind and houses were on fire, children were screaming and mothers were running holding their infants in their arms.
An undead rogue came up behind us and tripped me while grabbing my wife, although I wasn't very good at the "undead" language I could understand a little and he was speaking to one of the other ones saying, "This is her. This is the one." I looked up and saw them carrying her away. "No," I yelled.
A Tauren came up behind me and kicked me in the stomach, just when he was about to a lunge a spear through my chest and into my heart I blacked out.
I awoke later, I don't know how long it was, but when I awoke there were elven bodies everywhere and more Horde were lying on the ground. Some were smoking from wrath and smite spells; others had arrows, daggers or axes in their chests, backs, or heads. It was a bloody battle scene, and one that would be told for years to come, unfortunately the only survivor blacked out before the battle even began.