First story. The main characters derive from my friends from the Warcraft forums. I hope they catch wiff of this, and be happy.

DISCLAIMER: All Warcraft Characters and Places are property of Blizzard. Not me. And most of the characters I didn't make, but were made by the hard work of my fellow WoW players.

Anyway, enjoy this story, the chapters aren't as long as I'd like but go figure. Maybe they'll get longer. Enjoy reading!

Prologue

"Thisss is a tale, mortal... A tale of an event not ssso long ago...

A tale of heroesss... Of victory... Of death...

I wasss there that day. The day the Dessstroyer met his end...

The day that enemiesss lowered their weaponsss... And fought together for a common goal...

I remember it as if it were only yessterday...

But to me... Ssso doesss every day..."

Chapter One Warchief's Command

The bright Azerothian sun peeked its way over the horizon. The cool water heated as An'she spread his warmth across the sky. And, in a place like the Echo Isles, it was particularly enjoyable. Nestled in his hammock, almost oblivious to the world around him, a Darkspear troll slept. But as the palm leaves began to sway in the morning winds and critters began to arise, so did he. He let out a yawn, and the sun's light danced off of his tusks. He looked to his left and smiled at the figure next to him. A Raptor - A Troll's best companion - slept in the sand next to his hammock. He looked to his right, and his ears drooped slightly. A large indent in the sand, the size of a Kodo, marked the absence of something. The Troll sighed and stood up.

"Let's be goin' Veloci. Ya remember what today is, don'cha?" The raptor, known as Veloci, blinked her eyes open and yawned, showing off her impressive teeth. She looked up and the Troll and stood, and gently bumped her head against the Troll's chest - an affectionate gesture. The Troll laughed and patted her head.

"Let's be goin', den." Pyronaptor responded to his friend. They had to walk across the Isles toward the mainland. They passed through the training grounds, which were largely empty save for the seemingly endless training targets used by youngblood Darkspear. Pyronaptor himself never actually trained here. He was raised with Orcs in the Valley of Trials long before the Echo Isles were taken back from the mad Witch Doctor, Zalazane. Pyronaptor remembered the day Zalazane fell, and he looked back on it with pride. His tribe was finally able to reclaim their homeland. He and Veloci walked across the bridge to the mainland.

The Echo Isles, as a whole, was a stronghold. Tall fences, stone walls, defensive structures, and the jungle inside made it a good home. Sen'jin Village, however, was not so. Sen'jin Village had been the Darkspear's former headquaters, for lack of a better word. Where the Isles had an extensive jungle, Sen'jin had barely any plant life. Where the Isles held many huts and the great Darkspear Hold where Vol'jin himself laid his head, Sen'jin was a small fishing village, comprising of only a few huts. But it did its job well in its day. Pyronaptor walked through the village to his friend, Handler Marnlek, the Bat Handler of the Village.

"Hey dere, Marnlek." Pyronaptor spoke. "I trust de bats have been treating you well?" Marnlek responded.

"Let de Forsaken try to use their Vampire Bats, mon, but dere's not'in like a Darkspear bat, best wings in de sky. Where can I be sendin' ya, mon?"

"Orgrimmar. You know of de summons to the Kor'kron."

"You still dealin' with dat Orcish organization?" Marnlek scoffed. Many Darkspear looked down on the Orcs for essentially kicking them out of Orgrimmar, the Horde capital city, although the Warchief allowed them to make a home of the Valley of Spirits. "You'd be better off stayin' here, mon." Marnlek continued. "No more suicide missions. Let Hellscream fall so we can laugh at him."

"You know dere be greater threats out dere, Marnlek. We can't continue to fight within da Horde when de world itself is broken." Pyronaptor closed his eyes and nodded, and Veloci softly purred at him. "You remember dat day, don't you? When we retook the Isles? Orcs were dere too, as were Undead, Blood Elf, and Tauren. We are de Horde. And we can't keep fightin' like dis."

Marnlek nodded. "I suppose ya be right, mon. I'll get a bat ready for you and Veloci." Marnlek smiled at the raptor, which, at this point, was used to flying on other beasts.

Flying over Durotar makes it hard to believe the Echo Isles thrive so close. The place was a desert, void of a lot of plant life. Pyronaptor held on tight to his companion as the two of them rode the bat to the Orcish city of Orgrimmar. Seeing the city from a distance was one thing. But flying over its main gates was another. The city seemed much more of a stronghold or a military base than a city where children and citizens live. This was the handiwork of the late Warchief Garrosh Hellscream, who thought the city could use the facelift.

Pyronaptor landed, and greeted the Orcish Flight Master Doras when he got off his bat. Doras had sent Pyronaptor on many, many Wyvern rides in the past, and the state of the Orcs toward the Trolls did not make bars in their friendship. They didn't talk much though, just a quick greeting and Pyronaptor was off. As he walked toward the elevator, he was greeted by a familiar face.

"Pyro!" Spoke the larger person. "It's been too long, friend." Pyronaptor clasped hands with the larger one. He was a Tauren, muscular and proud. His black coat, complimented by his plate armor, gleamed in the sunlight. "How do you fare?"

Pyronaptor started toward the elevator, the Tauren and Veloci not too close behind. "Titan, my friend, its good ta see you." Pyronaptor glanced at his hands, which were now covered in frost.

"Sorry about that, friend." Titan responded. Titan's full name was Titanrage. And he was no mere Tauren. He was a Death Knight, a Kor'kron Darkreaver as it were. With this, the aura around Titan was always cold, even in the hot Durotar sun. While most Death Knights were cold and bitter, like many seem to be, Titan was not. He was every bit as honorable as he had been in life. Yes, he was undead, as all Death Knights raised by the Lich King were. When Darion Mograne, Death Knight of Acherus broke free of the Lich King's control, so did all the Death Knights of Acherus. Titan was unlike many of his fellow Knights, however. In life, he had been a proud warrior of the Earthmother, and he viewed his ressurrection as a second chance at fulfilling her duty. He wasn't above any Death Knight ailments, however. While he would rather go to Thunder Bluff and listen to the teachings of the Shaman and the Earthmother, he joined the Kor'kron Guard during the War in Northrend to sate his need to inflict pain, which all Death Knights had to do.

The two of them walked through the Valley of Strength. Grommash Hold, large and menacing, dominated the Valley. The other stores and shops around seemed as if they were craft shops of siege weapons and war machines, not the carriers of groceries and clothing as they were truthfully.

"I trust you are here because of the summons?" Titan asked Pyronaptor.

"Of course, mon. Where de Kor'kron go, we are needed." Pyronaptor was a member of the Kor'kron Guard as well, working as a scout and a headhunter, lending his bow and spear to the Horde. He had fought against the Scourge in Northrend alongside Titan, and they both had marked themselves with the blood of their enemies as trophies. "I can't help but wonder what Garrosh wants with us now.

"Well, I guess we can only guess. After all, Ragnaros has fallen and Hyjal is safe. I don't know of any other fronts of war we could be sent to." The two of them approached the Warchief's Command Board outside Grommash Hold, which didn't have any clues as to why they had been summoned that day. Before either of them could say anything else, the sound of hoofs could be heard approaching. It was a Tauren, two battleaxes sheathed in his waist. It was Korojin; a Kor'kron Primal that Titan had introduced Pyronaptor to in Northrend.

"Hey there guys, ready for the meeting?" Korojin asked.

"Ready as we'll ever be, I suppose." Titan responded. "Any idea of what it's about?"

"Not a one. But whatever it is, it's no match for my fury!" Korojin had a bit of a temper. He wasn't like most Shaman, Most Shaman implore the elements, asking for aid and praying to the ancestors, but not Koro. He used his gift and bent the elements to his will, without begging on bent knee for aid. It was an unorthodox approach that was looked down upon by the Earthen Ring and many Shaman everywhere, save the Taunka, Tauren relatives from Northrend who bent the elements to their will rather than asking them for help.

The time for this meeting was approaching, and the three of them strode into Grommash Hold. The Kor'kron Guard there saluted them, though Pyronaptor got a few looks. The Orc-Troll relationship had dwindled since Garrosh's rule, and discrimination was not uncommon. It was never extreme – a look or glance or a scoff, but nothing too serious. Pyronaptor didn't mind. Many soldiers stood within the Hold, of many races and many disciplines. Veloci huddled close to her master nervously, anxious of a Tiger another Hunter was rearing across the Hold. Pyronaptor comforted her and looked to the Warchief.

The Warchief, Garrosh Hellscream, in short, was one hell of an Orc. He was the son of Grom Hellscream, the Orc who freed the rest of the Orcs from demon slavery. This made him a proud and fierce warrior, and the old Warchief, Thrall, could see this and sent him to lead the Kor'kron Guard to Northrend. After the victory against the Lich King, Thrall had left the Horde to help the breaking world, and left Garrosh as Warchief. This stirred much controversy, and led to the unfortunate death of Cairne Bloodhoof at Garrosh's hand, even though it wasn't Garrosh's fault directly. After that, Vol'jin and the Darkspear had their falling out with the Warchief, but trolls like Pyronaptor didn't let it get to them.

"Kor'kron!" Garrosh exclaimed. His voice carried across the Hold, and was likely even heard outside. "As you all well know, we have been successful in our war against Twilight's Hammer. Cho'gall is dead, and we succeed across every front! Your ancestors would be proud! But now is the time to make the final strike!" All murmurs within the crowd stopped. "We have been informed by our dragon allies when the 'Hour of Twilight' is to fall. The Bronze dragonflight has given us the information we need to be ready!" He spoke of the Bronze dragonflight, led by Nozdormu, the Timeless One. They were the guardians of time, and ensured that it flowed properly.

"Why would the Bronzes tell us of this?" A voice erupted from the crowd. Pyronaptor recognized it. It was Hecatomb, a Kor'kron Necrolyte, and his Felhound Phuughun. Warlocks such as him were looked down upon from the Horde as a whole, especially by Garrosh. It took a daring Warlock, such as Hecatomb, to call out the Warchief. "Seems strange to me, normally we would never be allowed to know something from the future by the Bronzes" He was right. The Bronzes had sent heroes into the past before, but never before have they given them insight into the future. People began to murmur withn the crowd.

"Silence Necrolyte!" Garrosh yelled. "This is a gift, and it ensures us the safety of Azeroth! Something a Warlock like yourself likely cares nothing about! The Bronze dragonflight protects this world just like the other dragons do, and by giving us this information, they ensure its protection!" Hecatomb growled under his breath and crossed his arms. Garrosh continued. "This is to begin at Wyrmrest Temple in Northrend. Deathwing is to lead an assault onto the Temple himself! And he will find the might of the Horde waiting for him!" Garrosh let out a war cry, and many of the warriors – Koro included – lifted their voices as well. Pyronaptor smiled. It was moments like these, when it felt like a Horde, that made him feel proud to be a part of it. Now, it was the time to prepare.