Twilight falls over Duskwood, blue rays of light shining through the forest, the trees casting macabre shadows on the ground. A thick fog hung in the air, shrouding the forests secrets. A lonely figure made its way through the fog; from the lonely house called Forlorne Rowe to the now abandoned town of Raven Hill. The figure stopped, its gaze fixed upon a grave in the nearby cemetery. It moved closer, obviously interested in the ground in front of the grave. A hand protruded from the robes, a hand soon engulfed in a dark purple glow. The land in front of the grave stirred, as if something were trying to break through. It moved again, this time with more force, and the earth atop the grave began to give way. A skeletal hand emerged, followed by a bony forearm. An upper arm soon followed as the creature pulled itself from its grave, turning its cold, lifeless gaze upon the person who disturbed it. Not a word was spoken as the undead creature began a patrol around the cemetery. Apparently pleased with the work, the figure continued on the path to the town. It entered one of the houses, the tip of its pointed hat just skimming the top of the doorframe.

"Your efforts are inadequate, Baxter," The person said, obviously male.

"My apologies, Master Fel. It's just, there's-" a hooded figure started, his voice trembling.

"Spare me the excuses." Fel barked, "The humans at Darkshire are getting to be more than a nuisance. For every minion I summon, they kill two. They aren't doing it themselves anymore, Baxter, they are recruiting. All kinds of races, Dwarves, Gnomes, I even saw some of those wretched Draenei attacking one of my patrols. I need stronger minions, Baxter. You've been assigned to this for over two weeks, how do you have no improvements?"

"I'm sorry Master," Baxter responded, "It's…We…We're running out of bodies, sir. We just don't have enough to replace those slain and to research and practice new summoning techniques."

"We don't have enough bodies? We're sat on a graveyard, Baxter." Fel said, his voice rising. "How hard is it to go out into the graveyard and grab a few coffins? I raised one on my way over here."

"But…I…I'm sorry, Master." Baxter grovelled, "I'll start work right away."

"Yes, you will. I want a development tonight, Baxter, or I'll be seeing how useful you are as one of those ghouls." Fel threatened, striding out of the room.

"Bring me some bodies." Baxter commanded the nearest skeletal soldier. "If Fel wants some new undead, he'll get them."

The soldier returned with two bodies, and laid them down on the floor. Baxter separated them, and began channelling, muttering to himself all the while. It was his undead companion who first noticed something was wrong, grunting and pointing at where the necromancer was channelling. Baxter turned his head, and instead of seeing the deep purple cloud he was used to, saw a small blue orb, growing brightly, and arcs of energy streaked from it onto its surroundings. The human paused for a moment, and then turned both of his claw-like hands towards it, channelling his power into this new spell. The orb's light intensified, illuminating his pale skin, casting shadows over his gaunt face. The orb started growing slowly, changing from an orb to what looked like a rip. Wind billowed out of it, and the smell of fresh air filled the caster's nostrils, the kind of smell one gets at high altitudes.

Baxter heard a sound over the roaring of the wind. He turned an ear towards the source, it sounded like a roar. I looked through the gap in the slit; there was a dark shape visible through the fog. He squinted, trying to get a better look at the mysterious shadow. His eyes suddenly opened wide with horror, and the human turned and ran out of the house.

"Run! Run!" he cried, sprinting towards his Master's house. "Master! A spell went-"

He was cut off by an ear splitting roar, a roar so loud it shook the dust from the houses. Moments later, a wall of Baxter's house exploded, throwing debris into the air. As Fel opened the door, Baxter barged in, quickly closing the door behind him."

"I'm sorry, Master." Baxter started, his voice trembling, "I was summoning…more undead…went wrong…"

At that moment, a large portion of Baxter's wall came through the roof of Fel's house, bringing the structure down with it, burying Fel and Baxter under the stone and wood.

The following day, Stormwind Keep.

"The forces at Arathi are failing, Sir," Said an emissary to the League of Arathor. "The Forsaken outnumber us three to one. We need reinforcements."

"We can spare a few men from Alterac," Said a Dwarven representative of the Stormpike Guard. "We have the Orcs on the retreat, for now."

"Because their forces are overwhelming us, at Silverwind Hold," A Night Elven Sentinel interjected, "You rush in to save the humans, and you would see us lose Warsong Gulch?"

"I didn't mean that, lassie," The Dwarf replied, "Its jus' that these guys asked first."

"Stop it! All of you!" Said King Varian Wrynn, standing from his throne and walking to the table where the emissaries were bickering. "We have the Burning Legion attacking us from the south…" He said, pointing to an area marked as the Blasted Lands, "The Scourge are amassing to the north…" He added, pointing to a large landmass labelled Northrend, "The Horde have us mostly with our backs to the wall in our own lands…"His hand rested on a region marked Durotar, "And you will start a conflict amongst yourselves? We are surrounded; our enemies press us from every direction. In these times; we need to hold together, it is the only way we can rise up and defeat those who challenge the might of the Alliance. Sentinels, send word to the Draenei, seek their aid. The Stormpike will send any men they can spare to Arathi, to back up the-"

"Your Majesty," Said a voice. "Duskwoo-"

"I told him to stay outside, Sire." Said a guard, restraining the intruder.

"Hold on a second. Release him." Said the King, "What happened to you, man?"

"We were attacked. In Darkshire. It was a dragon!" The intruder said between shallow, panicked breaths.

"It was probably Lethon, your Majesty," The Guard interrupted, "He's a guardian of the Emerald Dream, someone probably got too close, so he's reminding us not to disturb him."

"No, it wasn't Lethon." The intruder started, his breathing slowing, "It fought Lethon, it overpowered him. Lethon retreated. This thing flew over Lethon's grove, so he rose to drive it away, and ended up retreating. Then it flew over Duskwood, fireballs rained from the sky. When it hit Darkshire, we didn't have a chance. I think everyone has died, except me. I ran as fast as I could."

"Guard, organise a scout party." Varian ordered, "Go to Duskwood and investigate these claims. If you find a dragon, do not engage, I want a full report when you return, which should be within two days."

"Aye aye, Sir," The guard said, leaving the room.

"Jaina, get this man some food, rest and shelter." Varian ordered as he sat back on his throne, resigning himself to his thoughts.