Chapter One: Chasing Visions

'The Sands of Time have run out, Son of Durotan.' said a voice.

In a dream, Thrall saw a barren hillside stood, with only scrub grass upon it. Great stones were piled here and there, and the sky was orange and yellow. The air was filled with suspense. As if the land feared something long expected.

'The cries of war echo on the winds.'

The beating of drums echoed throughout the lands. A warrior atop a beast Thrall had never seen before beating a pair of drums. The noise he made sent the warriors around him into a frenzy. The dirt shook beneath the vibrations of the army before him, as the grass was swept in a fel wind. Far away, a raven picked at the dirt, seeking food despite the coming danger.

The crow looked up. Its eye stared into his mind, even as a catapult was shoved over the hill and descended towards him. The crow fled in terror, as the vision changed to the opposing side of the hill. A human warrior stepped up upon a rock at the peak. He was clad in bright mail, with a flowing blue cloak. His face was hidden behind a helmet. Motioning with a shining sword her called his soldiers to battle.

'Heroes arise to challenge fate, and lead their brethren into battle!'

A vast force of humans in shining mail rushed over the side of the hill, swords gleaming for battle. The orcs on the other side roared war cries as the two sides descended on one another. Even as they were about to meet, the skies churned. Fire began to rain from the skies, and amidst the ranks of the orcs, Thrall halted and looked up.

Fire descended and consumed him.

'As mortal armies rush blindly towards their doom, the burning shadow comes to consume us all.' Then Thrall was standing before a human, clad in a brown cloak, who turned to point at him. 'You must rally the Horde, and lead your people to their destiny!'

The viewed changed, and it was as if Thrall had become a bird and was slowly flying away from his own home.

'Seek me out…'

Thrall awoke in cold sweat from a dream which had seemed as real as day. He stood up and swiftly made his way out of his hut to gaze down upon the village below. It was a place of thatched roofs and wooden walls. Several warriors paced restlessly below, awoken by fate or luck at the same time as Thrall. The Warchief looked out over the sleeping village. Then he turned his attention to the great trees on every side of them. The hooting of night owls could be heard heart and there as his people slumbered. This village had been made out of the way of most human encampments. So was a safe place to conduct operations from.

'What kind of nightmare was that?' he asked of no one in particular.

No answer was forthcoming. Thrall almost dismissed the dream as a meaningless vision. But at that moment a bird flew overhead, yet it spoke with a man's voice. 'It was not a nightmare, young warchief, but a vision. Follow me, and I will reveal what your future holds.'

Thrall watched in go in bemusement. This seemed somehow important. 'I don't know what this is all about.' he said after a moment. 'But I'll play along.'

Thrall returned to his hut and donned his armor. Picking up his hammer, he readied his favorite wolf mount, Snowsong for war. The wolf seemed restless and nuzzled his hand with a whimper. 'Easy girl, we're going out soon. I sense something out there that I can't just ignore.'

He mounted the white wolf. Riding Snowsong down, he rode towards the orcs settlement in the valley below. As he entered its midst, three warriors approached him, looking restless.

'Lok'tar, my warriors!' Thrall greeted them.

'We are yours to command Warchief.' they replied.

'How did you know I was in need of your steel?' asked Thrall.

'We... felt as though you needed us.' They said unsteadily. 'Tonight is a strange night.'

'So it is,' said Thrall, 'let's be on our way.'

They made their way out of the village, to the edge of the woods, treading along a forest past, heavy with roots. As they pressed on, he sensed a life force approaching him and reined in Snowing to a halt. 'Prepare yourselves; I sense a gnoll ahead.' Thrall warned his warriors. It would be a simple matter to defeat the creature. This would hardly be a fair fight.

'We'll rush past it, and ignore it.' said Thrall.

'Warchief, are you sure that is wise?' asked a warrior, taken aback.

'It will give up the chase soon enough.' replied Thrall 'And it stands no chance of taking the village.'

Not since the Peons had learned to cast spears from their burrows, anyway. With the loss of so many warriors in the First and Second Wars the lesser orcs had been forced to learn many things. Among them was self-defense.

The company rode one, and sure enough, they saw a dog-headed beast with brown fur, carrying a flail with no spikes. It did not attack them, for fear of their numbers, at fist. As one, Thrall and his warriors rushed forward and past it. The gnoll mastered its terror and rushed to meet them. It brought its flail around, but a warrior parried it, and then they were beyond its reach.

'It was only a scout,' said Thrall to his comrades as they rushed onwards. 'but the Gnoll's village lies just ahead. We shall pass through it without a fight.'

They crossed into a place filled with gnolls. The creatures grasped their weapons and rushed to attack them from all sides. Crossbow bolts landed near them, yet did not score a hit. The warriors and Thrall parried several blows as they shouldered forward. Thrall knocked aside a mace, as a warrior ducked under a crossbow bolt. Yet never once did they strike back as they charged through the village and down the hill, pursued.

The warriors had become used to such orders, made by him on occasion when it was possible to avoid combat. Thrall hated needless violence. Although he would never admit it to the warriors. Such a revelation would be… unpopular.

Their flight through the woods left them pursued by the gnolls. They leaped over roots and ducked under low hanging branches. At last, they reached the river where their enemies gave up the pursuit. The orcs waded into the crystal clear river. It reached to their waists and drank to refreshed themselves within it.

'These gnolls are nothing compared to the might of the Horde.' said an orc.

They proceeded in high spirits as the morning light rose overhead. A fair breeze was flowing through the river, and spirits were high. However, they darkened when ahead they saw a pack of murlocs. The small fish like humanoids would have made excellent targets for a lightning bolt. Yet he had no desire to kill without need and instead halted his warriors as they raised their axes.

'Warchief, we've discovered a group of murloc raiders in the nearby river.' said a warrior, hoping for orders.

'We will not slay them,' said Thrall, determined not to cause any death in this quest. 'there is a large patch of land which is undefended. We'll run through that and head north until we find a way out of the river.'

'As you say, Warchief.' said the warrior, sounding disappointed.

They rushed onwards. As they passed, the murlocs looked up from their fishing and charged them with swords. Yet the orcs outdistanced them and made their way north. One of the warriors was nearly cut off. However, with a mighty leap, the warrior went clear over the shark-toothed amphibians. He landed behind, and they ran on.

They came out of the shallows onto the opposite shore. There they rested for a bit. The murlocs did not follow them. Their spirits became higher. As they traveled, they spoke of adventures yet to come. Yet soon they went deeper into the wilds. It began to get darker, and the warriors fell silent. They ate a meal without speaking much and continued on their way.

A wolf howl heralded the return of night as the land was shrouded in darkness. 'Be wary, my warriors.' said Thrall quickly. 'Don't let nightfall dull your senses.'

It was redundant, for no one could see as well at night as they could at day. As they made their way through ancients paths, they saw stags racing through the trees. They heard owls hooting, and Thrall sensed the spirits were watching them in this place. Judging their actions.

On they went, unopposed until they came into a little grove by a lake. There was a campfire there, with a pig roasting on it. I situated in a little grove by a lake. The smell from the pig was delicious and far better than any of the rations they had brought with them. Yet by the fire lay a great tan skinned creature, with two heads, clutching in its hand a large club as big as a man. It was sound asleep.

'An ogre,' realized Thrall, 'we'd have a fierce battle on our hands if the beast weren't sleeping.'

'Let's behead the creature, Warchief.' said a warrior hopefully. 'It can't fight back.'

'That's exactly why we'll leave it alone.' replied Thrall. 'There is no honor in such a victory. We move onward.'

'Yes Warchief,' said the warrior, 'can we at least take some of the pig.'

'No.' replied Thrall simply. 'It's not ours.'

They made their way onwards and took a little side path which they saw a hulking creature made of rock. Thrall knew at once what it was.

A golem!' He said. 'Watch yourselves, my brethren. Those creatures do not sleep at night.'

'Can we kill it, Warchief?' asked a warrior hopefully.

'No.' said Thrall in irritation.

The warriors were disappointed, but not surprised. Warchief Thrall had a reputation as something of a killjoy.

And they moved onwards, further north. Yet Thrall enjoyed exploring new places, and so once again turned aside from his path to head east up a hill. There they came to a camp filled with green-skinned creatures. Yet they were not orcs, for their noses were pointed, and their limbs longer and thinner.

'Forest Trolls,' said Thrall in contempt, 'I still can't believe they were ever a part of the horde.'

While the orcs had, for the most part, changed their ways, the forest trolls had not. They continued to raid and pillage and remained a constant thorn in the side of the Alliance. They killed woman and children without mercy when they could. Thrall considered launching an assault upon their town, but then reconsidered. This was a village, not an encampment. That meant there would be woman and children here as well and he had no desire to kill innocents. He had no desire to kill anyone. Besides, they hadn't done anything wrong that he knew of.

The new Horde did not strike without need.

So, much to the irritation of his companions, they made their way back to the path, and north again. At last, they came to a cliff overlooking the sea, where the raven from before was circling above. Thrall turned to his warriors.

'Wait here for me, I will not be long.'

With that, Thrall made his way forward to meet the raven. It flew downwards and transformed into a human, cloaked and hooded. He stood near the very edge of the cliff, and Thrall approached him. He was unlike other humans, yet Thrall was not sure why.

'Greetings young Warchief,' said the man, 'I knew you'd find your way.' the human said.

'It was you I saw in the vision,' realized Thrall, 'who are you? How do you know me?

'I know many things, young Warchief, about you and your people.' replied the human. 'My identity at this time is unimportant. What is important is that you rally your people and leave these lands immediately.'

'Leave?' asked Thrall 'Whats this all about human.' Was this some manner of trick?

'Human?' said the Prophet with a laugh. 'I left my humanity behind long ago. I am something… different now. Know that I have seen the future, and beheld the great burning shadow coming to consume this land. You sense it as well, don't you?'

He did. In these past months, he had felt a change coming over this land. A darkness was creeping into everything, though it could not be seen on the surface.

'The Demons… are returning.' realized Thrall.

'Yes,' affirmed the prophet, 'and only by leading your people across the sea, to the distant lands of Kalimdor, can you hope to stand against them.'

'But how can we-' began Thrall.

'I will answer all of your questions in time, young Warchief.' cut in the prophet. 'For now, rally your warriors and prepare to leave these lands. We will speak again.'

With that, he transformed once more into a bird and flew away into the distance. The aura he gave out was in agreement with the will of the spirits. Indeed, the spirits had indicated to Thrall that the orcs time in Lordaeron would be a short one. They told him in his heart that this prophet was correct, and that he must follow his instructions.

'None of this makes sense,' said Thrall in frustration, 'but the spirits tell me, that I should trust him.'

The raid had all been going so well too, reflected Grom.

As he sat within the cage, waiting for the beating sun to kill him, he tried to think of how he'd gotten here. He'd just finished off the defenders and had begun to loot the town when the forces of Kul'tiras had arrived. Many of his warriors had died in the ensuing struggle. Then he'd found himself fighting Daelin Proudmoore himself. The Grand Admiral of the Alliance proved a worthy foe. Their duel might have lasted days, had not the humans emerged victorious in the battle itself. Daelin Proudmoore had no problem at all with ganging up on someone.

The sheer weight of numbers had captured Grom. Proudmoore had left specific instructions for Grom to be left to waste away in a cage until dead. Grom vowed the Grand Admiral would regret that decision and assuming he was rescued he knew just the way. There were a number of unguarded Kul'tiran vessels housed in dry dock within sight of his cage. They would make a worthy trophy.

Now he just had to get out of here. He kicked at the bars, but they did not yield. The sunlight would have been pleasant in other circumstances. In this situation was only making the metal hot. At the very least the wind was high. That helped to keep the metal cool.

Grom reluctantly admitted he would need a rescue. Otherwise, he might not survive long enough to take a trophy from this engagement.

Author's Note:

And here is the beginning of my cleanup job of Wrath of the Light. This fic is slightly less of a mess than Mercy of the Damned. But it has its own share of problems.