Prologue

The news quickly spread through the Ashen Verdict camp: the Lich King had finally fallen. Tears of joy streamed down the faces of hardened soldiers, their victory finally realized after years of harsh struggle. Mug and glasses were raised to the sky as the sounds of warm laughter echoed across the frozen wasteland. Orcs drank with dwarves, trolls danced with humans, and tauren tossed giggling gnomes into the air as all the races celebrated together.

Through this crowd of Argent Crusaders, a lone death knight walked, his face as firm and grim as every day before, his blue eyes fixed firmly ahead as he ignored the joyous throngs around him. Somberly he left the party underneath the white banners and entered the Ebon Blade encampment. There were no tears of laughter here, no drinks or dancing, no emotions to let loose. It was true that they had had their revenge at last, but they felt no urge to celebrate. They had lost too much to have anything left for this victory to save. And now, the one goal that had kept them strong and united through their undeath was gone.

The death knight moved through the camp and entered the dining tent. Their common enemy had not been dead for more than an hour, and already the group was divided, the races of the Horde on the left and the Alliance on the right. There were no soldiers mingling, no friends shouting, and no raised goblets; only suspicious glances, muffled whispers, and a harsh silence that smothered the air.

The newcomer grabbed a cold plate from the serving tablet and took a seat at an empty table near the back of the tent, ignoring both factions. As he ate in silence, a small group of humans approached him.

"Hail, Lobane," greeted one of them. "Why don't you come and sit with us, brother. We have much to discuss."

"Don't bother me, Erzin," said Lobane gruffly. "I'm trying to enjoy my meal."

"Listen, brother," said Erzin as he leaned forward and spoke in hushed tones. "Now that the Lich King is taken care of, the greatest threat to our people is the Horde. Those barbarians cannot be trusted. You saw it for yourself at the Wrathgate. And even when we were assaulting Icecrown itself, those beasts had the gall to attack the Skybreaker. They're nothing but treacherous fiends, and I would not put it past them to attack us while we celebrate our victory. We must stand firm against them now, brother. Are you with us?"

"I think that you've mistaken me for someone who gives a damn about your petty squabbles, Erzin," sneered Lobane. "You and your Alliance can go rot in hell for all I care."

"That's treasonous talk, brother," said the Captain coldly as he placed his hand on his sword hilt. "Has death made you forget where your loyalties lie?" Lobane glanced at the sword, then looked the captain dead in the eye.

"Loyalties?" said Lobane with a snort. "I know exactly where my loyalties lie, and it's not with you or that pathetic whelp you call a king."

"You disloyal bastard!" shouted Erzin, shattering the silence of the mess hall as he drew his sword. "I'll cut out that rotten tongue of yours!" As his attacker swung down, Lobane reached out and caught his wrist and disarmed him with a hard twist. The rest of the group moved to draw their swords, but Lobane kicked his table over, knocking them to the ground. Erzin tried to pull himself free from his captor's icy grip, but Lobane only twisted harder, breaking the his arm. As Erzin screamed in pain, Lobane picked up the fallen sword and held it to the man's throat.

"I see that death has robbed you of your honor as well," spat Erzin as his men regained their footing and drew their swords, but Lobane warned them off by pressing the blade harder against Erzin's throat.

"My honor and loyalty has never wavered in life or death, you Stormwind dog," said Lobane as a trickle of blood ran down the blade and froze on the cold metal. "I'm a Gilnean."

"Then what the hell are you doing here?" asked Erzin. Lobane stared at him coldly, then released him, driving the sword into the ground.

"Penance," Lobane answered simply before walking away. As he stepped out of the dining tent, a gust of frigid air blasted his face, and his glowing blue eyes stared into the distance, lost in memories of a past life.

Author's note: A story idea that came to me last night, so I made an outline and wrote this rather quickly. This project is really a way to explain two things about Gilneas that have been bugging me: first an obvious one, how can Worgen become death knights? And the second is to explain why Jaina had a force in Kalimdor called the Gilneas Brigade. I'll probably work on this to take a break from my other fanfic projects , but first chapter won't be up for a while.

I hope this topic interests you guys as much as it does me.