Never again.

NEVER. AGAIN.

Lanaura rarely took vows. She had only ever done so twice in her life. First, the vow she took upon joining the Alliance to uphold and forward its cause and protect its people in whatever ways she could. The other, never eat day old chicken.

A week bedridden with explosive diarrhoea does that to you.

Now, Lanaura could say without the shadow of a doubt she would be adding a third point to her list.

Never, EVER, take a portal from someone she didn't know.

It had been such a great day too.

"Looking for Portal to Dalaran! Paying ten gold!" An accented voice called out over the noise of the bustling trade district.

Fittingly, the person the voice belonged to also looked over the rest of the trade district. At seven and a half feet in height it was hard not to. All the other races of the Alliance were just so Light damned short.

Lanaura sighed, she'd been at this for an hour. The one day no mages happened to be perusing Stormwind's markets.

Lanaura, Champion of the Frozen Wastes, shook her head in irritation. Lanaura was a Draenei, one of the many races that made up the glorious Alliance. She stood at Seven and a Half feet on two broad hooves. Her skin was an exceptionally pale blue, as opposed to the much darker tones of most of her Race. Not that it was rare or anything but it was rather uncommon, a point Lanaura took a strange pride in.

Her white, slightly glowing, pupil less eyes swept over the market, looking for anyone who looked remotely mage-like. Her very dark, lush lips turned downwards in a small frown. She pushed a strand of her pure white hair back into the bang that nearly covered her left eye. Her hair was up in a high ponytail, leaving two hanging bangs to frame her face. Lanaura took great care of her hair, the single vanity she allowed herself.

As with all Draenei females, she had a horn on each side of her head that curved and swept straight backwards and perpendicular to the ground. She was ever grateful for that particular fact, she had some friends whose horns shot straight out for a foot on each side. They had to turn their heads to get through human doorways much to her amusement.

All of a sudden a thought struck her like a lightning bolt. She slapped a palm to her forehead in exasperation. The trade district was literally next door to the Mage district of the city. If she couldn't find a mage here, she could walk for five minutes and be guaranteed to find one there.

Fortunately, she was spared even that small walk. A loud tapping against her knee drew her attention straight down, into a pair of green eyes.

"You were looking for a portal?"

The fabulously moustachioed Gnome looking back at her had a wide smile on his face, no doubt eager to have his ten gold and go.

Lanaura beamed back at the diminutive magi. "Thank the Light! Someone at last!" She chuckled slightly. With smooth, practiced movements she dropped ten gold pieces into the Gnome's hot little hand for his troubles.

"Fantastic! Now, if you would just stand back I'll work my magic!" The Gnome squeaked enthusiastically.

Lanaura quickly obeyed eager to be on her way at long last. Her twin sister, Telona, was adventuring out of Dalaran, helping the Argent Crusade contain the Scourge remnants left in the frozen north. All in the name of helping the Light or whatever Priest thing she did.

She had to supress a shiver.

Lanaura herself had been one of the first adventurers to hit the blighted beaches of Northrend. Her journey took her from the beautiful Howling Fjord all the way up Icecrown Citadel, where she and her guild had stuck pointy things into the Lich King.

Well, pointy things and fire, green or otherwise. But Lanaura never did much bother with all that magic tripe. She was a Warrior and proud of it. She left it to others to wave spells and chant in those gaudy robes of theirs. Personally, she'd take a finely balanced Axe or two and a good set of plate any day of the week.

But that wasn't today. Today, she was a simple traveler, clad in easy traveling leathers and a heavy, hooded cloak suited to the frigid temperatures of Northrend. Her usual armor, both sets, was resting easy in her enchanted bags, tied to her hip. Her weapons, two large two-handed axes among her other sets, were there as well. Not that she wasn't armed of course. She had a number of knives hidden away on her person, just in case.

The Gnome concentrated, waving his stubby arms around looking appropriately mystical. After a couple seconds he was rewarded as a shimmering portal solidified in front of him.

"Echada, Mikrei"

"Excuse me?" The Gnome squeaked, cocking his head.

Realizing what she'd said, Lanaura barked a short laugh. "Oh, I'm sorry. That meant 'Thank you Gnome'."

The Gnome just shook his head. "No bother, you did pay me. Now in you go, I can't maintain this thing forever." He hurried her.

Thanking him again, she stepped through the portal as she had a million times before.

Unfortunately for everyone involved, a male Draenei happened to pass by at just the wrong time. Being as tall as he was, he didn't notice the gnome beneath him, and ended up kicking the Gnome over just as Lanaura entered.

His concentration broken, the portal started slipping away. The Gnome panicked, desperately trying to wrestle the spell back into place.

Whatever he did, it didn't help in the slightest. The portal imploded, knocking back everybody in a ten metre radius of where it had been.

And casting one unfortunate Warrior far across dimensions and space, to a land in a realm which sorely needed her.

Everything hurt. A lot.

Like a lot, a lot.

Like every part of her had been flayed open, then had had sea water thrown on her kind of hurt.

Like Thok the Bloodthirsty had decided to use her as his personal chew toy. Again.

Needless to say, Lanaura was not a happy camper. Here she had been expecting a quick, easy portal to Dalaran to surprise her sister. Instead here she was. With the pain.

She had enough of her faculties to realize that something had gone wrong with the portal here. Without opening her eyes, she checked out what she could.

Fingers: Check. Arms: Check. Legs: Check. Hooves: Check. Ok good, at least she had all her limbs still attached. Now if only they didn't hurt so Light damned much.

It was cold, that much she knew. So she could very well be somewhere off course in Northrend, but Lanaura was pretty sure Portals didn't work like that.

But hey, what would she know, she wasn't a Mage.

Bracing herself, she opened her eyes and pushed herself to her knees.

Ey'up. This most definitely wasn't Northrend.

She was in the middle of a large, circular room. An arching roof above had huge holes missing, and a section of the wall was completely gone as well.

Also, there were the corpses. Lots and Lots of corpses. And the stench was incredible.

"Oh dear. What have I gotten into now?" She questioned no one in particular.

Dead bodies were strewn liberally across the room, rotting and filthy. Groaning, she levered herself to her feet and stumbled over to the nearest one, hoping it wasn't an Alliance race.

Now Lanaura had been a warrior for many years. She had seen and caused death more times than she could count. She had battled everything from simple bandits to the shambling horrors of the Undead Scourge and the terrors the Burning Legion could produce.

So instead of doing what pretty much everyone should have done when coming face to face with a Darkspawn for the first time and unprepared, namely yell and soil their smallclothes, she did not.

Lanaura simply made a noise of disgust at the back of her throat as she inspected the horror.

Monstrous was the only thing that came to mind. Piggy nose, sickly green skin, lots of teeth. Yup, not something to introduce to your mother. This particular one had been nearly bisected by something sharp. It had met a violent end then.

Lanaura still didn't know whether that was a bad thing or not.

So she simply backed away and got a better look at the room she was in. It was at that point she noticed the humungous purple corpse that had been behind her that whole time.

Lanaura whistled in surprise at the giant dead thing. "That's one big mother." She said to herself. Taking a closer look, someone had seemingly shoved a pair of thin, sharp blades into each of it's eye sockets. Now that would have been something to see. This huge thing screaming and roaring and something jumping at it and stabbing it liberally. Love it. She had to say, it looked a bit like an Ogre. So she was going to call it that from now on.

The room having exhausted its information capacity Lanaura shuffled over to the large hole in the wall, intent on getting some lay of the land.

The sight that lay before her very nearly made the hardened warrior vomit.

The tower she was at the very top of was in fact just one part of a massive, ruined fortress. From her perch atop the tower she could see for miles, including everything in the valley below. Snow blanketed most of the forest beyond the valley, and here and there inside it. Most had yet to be covered, however.

Much to her dismay.

Bodies were strewn everywhere, rotting in the cold air. The fortress had been the sight of a massive battle, between whom, Lanaura still could not say. She hazarded a guess at these monsters against someone. She couldn't picture the creatures allying with anything not of their kind.

That wasn't the worst part, however. A large portion of the bodies were torn limb from limb, ripped apart, and what looked like eaten.

She was rather vividly reminded of the utter devastation at the Wrathgate, after the undead had rained the new Plague over the joined Horde and Alliance forces.

Thousands had died that day, including one of the Alliances greatest, Bolvar Fordragon.

It had been one the worst things she had ever had to witness in her life. This ranked very close, however.

Her normally smiling mouth set itself in a grim line. She would have to go down there, and gather what information she could.

Where in the name of the Naaru she was, and what was going on, were the two most pressing concerns.

She reached down to her belt and rubbed a small stone attached to it. She concentrated and after a second and a huge burst of smoke she sat astride her personal favourite mount.

The green Proto-Drake roared as it appeared, clearly happy to be out in the world again.

Lanaura sighed in relief. Despite being nowhere she could recognize she still had access to her mounts. Pocket dimension mount storage was one of the greatest things ever.

Taking a second to wrap herself tighter in her thick cloak to ward off the cold, she snapped the reigns.

The Proto-drake launched itself into the cold air, gliding easily down to the valley floor below.

After a minute, the drake landed with a large thump. Lanaura slipped from the saddle with a grunt of pain, still feeling the effects of whatever the portal did to her.

Instead of dismissing her Drake, she ducked under the huge wing and walked around to its massive jaw.

"Who's a good little drakey. You are, aren't you Sweetie? Yes you are, yes you are!" She cooed at her favourite mount, scratching the underside of its jaw with both hands.

The drake growled in appreciation, it's tiny little arms wiggling in glee.

Now most people she knew had a Proto-Drake of some form or another. Blue, violet, bronze, red, green, a whole buncha colours. Most had named them tough, scary names like Charger, Flash, Craggy, Tank, Thunder or Fire Face.

Lanaura had named hers Sweetie. Take that for what it's worth.

Lanaura trailed off with her baby talk, settling for just looking at her trusty mount, a small smile on her lips and an uncharacteristic sadness in her eyes. Wherever she was, she still had her mounts. That was a massive relief. She didn't have to hoof it everywhere.

Turning away, she started investigating bodies.

Amongst them, she found Humans.

That answered one question at least. Humans and these monsters had battled here. Unfortunately, judging by the fact that the corpses still lay where they fell, torn and sliced apart, it seemed that the creatures had won.

Humans, like all civilized creatures, buried or burned their dead. After a battle they honored the losses and moved on. Even their enemies never just left them to rot.

It was easy to see what side of this particular war she would rather be on.

None of the human corpses she found had any heraldry, or wore any uniform that Lanaura could recognize. Dark Iron chainmail and Steel swords seemed to be the prevailing trait, differing crests here and there but simply nothing Lanaura had ever seen before.

They were humans, yes. But not any humans she knew. These were not Alliance men and women. This was rather concerning.

Another hour moving through the fortress had yielded nothing more of note save more and more desecrated corpses. The creatures that had survived had moved on. However, on some of the upper platforms she had found bodies that were freshly slain, less than a couple days old at most. Either the creatures had been infighting, or someone had been there quite recently.

But they were gone now. The only things Lanaura had for company were her drake, and the ghosts of this place.

The sun was low in the sky as she returned to where she had left her mount. With the dropping of the sun, the temperature followed suit. It did make for the rather funny sight of her Drake blowing massive plumes of steam with every breath.

She rubbed a spot behind the Drake's ear affectionately. "Well, I don't think we're in Azeroth any more Sweetie." She said.

Sweetie only growled slightly. She didn't understand words, but she could pick up emotions and scents. Her master was bothered, not nearly her usual self. So she settled on bumping her lightly with her head.

Lanaura giggled in response to her Drake's attempt at cheering her up. "Yea, I know. I'll be fine when we get away from here. Which we should probably do nowish come to think of it."

Lanaura quickly mounted up and with a great roar Sweetie launched herself into the air on furious beats of her powerful wings. As far away as they could get from that accursed ruin.

They flew for a few miles over blackened forests high above the treetops, Lanaura straining her eyes for somewhere to land and rest for the night. A village, a fort, a clearing, Something.

After a few more miles, Lanaura ran out of forest. The good news? She had found a village. So that was a thing.

The bad news? It had been utterly destroyed. She made Sweetie circle the town, gathering what info she could from the sky. What she did find was not good. Bloated and carved apart corpses littered the ground, building had been burned to the ground with nothing but their foundations showing.

One building, the one that seemed to be the biggest one in the village, had survived being put to the torch. If Lanaura had to guess, this would be their place of worship. It would not have been spared. The creatures would have broken in and slaughtered whatever they found inside.

No matter how hardened a person could get, a sight like that just wasn't something anyone wanted to see.

Then, something unexpected caught her eye in the dying light of the day. Was that… Smoke?

It was! And it wasn't a huge plume of smoke either, which would be an indication of a raging blaze or an off season forest fire. No, this was a small, controlled fire, which could only mean one thing.

People! Live, not dead, hopefully not monsters people!

Her sprits greatly lifted, she turned Sweetie into a bank, flying directly towards the trailing plume of smoke, intent on answers.

Now, how would she do this. She could find a clearing nearby and land Sweetie there, so as not to startle whoever she met with massive amounts of sharp looking drake.

Or she could land right in the middle of the camp, drake or no drake.

As always, Lanaura took the more fun option.

Andraste's flaming snatch she was tired.

But then again, so would you be if you had the month she'd had.

Kallian Tabris, elf of Denerim's Alienage and as of one month ago, Grey Warden, was not a happy camper.

It was hard to believe it had been only a month since she had been taken from her own arranged wedding, killed an Arl's son, been arrested for killing said Arl's son, and conscripted into the Wardens. All in the space of a single day.

Then, not a week later, the King had been betrayed at Ostagar, and he, his army nearly every Grey Warden in Ferelden had been slain by the foul Darkspawn. Leaving only herself and Alistair to overthrow the traitorous Teyrn Logain, gather the armies of Dwarves, Mages and Elves… Oh and stop a Blight.

Just an easy Sunday morning right?

And to top it all off, somehow she had found herself in charge! The Senior Grey Warden (not that that said much mind you) was Alistair, but he had shown himself utterly unwilling to take the roll himself. And so it had fallen to her.

So now she had to juggle the personalities of the ragtag band she led. A cynical and sarcastic apostate mage by the name of Morrigan, a massive and opinionated Qunari they called Sten, a lay-sister of the Chantry with a set of rather unusual skills for a woman of the cloth named Leliana, a wise old Senior Enchanter named Wynne, an introverted, depressive circle mage with a staggering talent with Ice magic named Elsa Amell and the wisecracking, bumbling Senior Warden himself, Alistair.

As if sensing her very thoughts and not liking being left out, a sharp bark rang out beside her.

Oh yes, and who could forget her new Mabari war hound, Muffins.

Even she didn't know why she named him Muffins. Must have thought it was funny at the time.

Muffins barked happily. "Hm. Glad you're happy with it at least." She mumbled, scratching her dog's ear.

Muffins whined in contentment and shuffled closer, learning up against her so as to facilitate easier scratching.

Kallian laughed at her dog's antics. He was just about the only consistently optimistic part of their group there was, and it was a joy having him around.

The Elf woman had the same red hair as he cousin, worn short. She swept her green eyes over the camp, checking in with her "merry band".

Alistair was fairly close by, tending to the main fire. Leliana and Wynne were chatting around on the fire's other side. Morrigan was a little way away, her own tent set up by her own personal fire. Sten was just inside the firelight, watching over everyone and everything in the rapidly dimming light. Bodan Ferric and his simple son Sandal were away a bit from the rest of the camp, preparing to sleep in their cart. Elsa, the mage they recruited in the Circle Tower, had already retired to her tent.

Kallian sighed anew. That one was a challenge.

After Ostagar, Morrigan, Alistair and herself had gone to Lothering to try and find as much supplies as they could.

They left with a few tents, some food and two new companions. A convicted murderer and a mysterious Lay-Sister that Kallian hadn't quite decided wasn't crazy, but companions nonetheless. The Wardens, all two of them, needed allies. They couldn't afford to be picky, and Kallian understood that.

Fortunately, it had worked out well. Sten was a beast with a two handed anything in his hands and Leliana was like nothing the City Elf had ever seen with a bow. They pulled their weight, that much could not be denied.

They had journeyed first of all to the Mage's Tower, hoping to cash in the first of the Treaties they had in their possession. What they found was a tower filled to the brim with Abominations and a Templar force just waiting for the paperwork so they could slaughter every mage in the building.

The Warden just couldn't let that happen. So she and her group had gone in and cleared the tower themselves.

There they found Wynne, three other mages, and a group of small children holding out against the Demons.

Wynne, who had been holding up a barrier between that room and the rest of the tower, had insisted on coming along to help, to which Kallian had readily agreed. She knew the layout of the building, not to mention she was a Healer.

They had progressed up a few more floors, fighting demons the whole way, until they happened to stumble across a scene that Kallian still couldn't believe.

A human woman, staff in hand, was desperately defending herself; successfully she had to admit, against a score of demons single handed. She had been throwing Ice magic around like she was born wielding it, slamming, crushing and freezing all she thought to.

The party had immediately rushed to her aid, slamming like a hammer into the demon's rear.

Within moments the fight was over, leaving the young human and the Warden's party as the only things standing.

It was then Kallian had gotten her first real look at the exceptionally powerful mage. She was younger than she had expected, looking to be around twenty at the most. Her Circle robes hung loosely on her thin frame in rather fitting colours of pale and sky blue. She wore her absolutely beautiful blonde hair in a wild, windswept braid over her left shoulder, gathered at the bottom with a small snowflake tie. Add an exceptionally pale complexion, high cheek bones and a naturally beautiful face and you had one stunning woman.

Wynne had been ecstatic another mage had survived and made hasty introductions. This was great, because Elsa had seemed to be totally disinclined to do it herself. When she did speak, it was in quiet, short sentences.

But that sheer power and the amazing skill that Elsa had shown with her magic was something to keep notice of. She may make a valuable addition to their group.

They had continued on, all nearly died to a sloth demon, killed the Abomination in control of it all, saved the Senior Enchanter and won the day.

Senior Enchanter Irving had managed to convince the leader of the Templars, Greigor, that everything was now all right. Which was great really. Kallian didn't want to get killed by Templars if she could help it.

Kallian had had an idea at the back of her head ever since the moment she had witnessed Elsa in battle. After a short, heated discussion with Alistair, they'd both made a very hard decision.

Pulling Irving, Greigor and Elsa aside, they dropped the bomb.

"We, that is to say the Grey Wardens, wish to offer you a place in our ranks, Elsa." Alistair had said, as full of cheer as he always was.

Three pairs of eyes had widened rather comically. "Absolutely not!" Greigor had immediately yelled.

"Greigor…" Irving had sighed. "If the Wardens want her, then you have no right to say no. And you know it. But neither of our opinions matter. Elsa, child. What do you think?"

Just looking at Elsa at that moment, it was quite easy to tell just what Elsa's idea was. She was utterly terrified of the whole concept. "But I… I can't! I only had my H-Harrowing a few months ago; I can't l-l-leave yet! Or even ever! I can't go with you!" She had cried.

Now, shock at the rather sudden offer, Kallian could understand. Outright refusal she could understand.

But fear?

Sadly, despite how nicely everyone was putting it, Elsa really didn't have a choice.

"I'm sorry Elsa. But I'm afraid you don't really have a say." Kallian had gently admitted. "We have seen how you can fight. We believe you would make a fine Grey Warden. And we have a Blight on our hands. We can't afford sentiment during a Blight. We would much prefer it if you would join voluntarily, but you would be far from the first Warden recruited against their wishes. If you say no, we will invoke the Right of Conscription and drag you kicking and screaming away if we must."

Elsa had been stunned for a couple seconds. After that she looked like she was hyperventilating and on the verge of tears.

"You.. You don't understand! I'm a danger to everyone! If I go with you I'll just hurt you in the end! I'm dangerous! Can't you see? I need to be here, where people can keep me from hurting anyone! I can't go with you! Please!" She had pleaded with them.

Kallian and Alistair had only looked away sadly. Grey Wardens were needed, and she had been chosen. That was really that.

Fortunately, they didn't have to invoke the Right after all. The motherly Wynne had come to the rescue. She wrapped soothing hands around Elsa's shoulders, whispering reassurances to the panicked mage.

"It's all right child. I will be there with you. You can keep up your studies on the road." She had said.

"If you wouldn't mind, Irving?" She continued.

"You wish to accompany the Wardens? I thought you might. Very well Wynne, I give you leave. I hope, for all of us, you succeed." He had said.

Greigor simply made a noise of disgust and stormed off to yell at someone.

They'd made their departure not long afterwards. Elsa had not deigned it necessary to say goodbye to more than the Senior Enchanter himself and a survivor they had found in the storeroom, a young Elf girl named Niera, and had quickly gathered what little she owned.

In the week and a half since they had left Lake Calenhad Elsa had spoken maybe five words to anyone other than Wynne. Kallian fully intended to plumb the motherly woman for information about their latest recruit.

Without context, Kallian could make neither heads nor tails of Elsa's little corner of the Sloth Demon's realm. It had been remarkably similar to Alistair's. Just Elsa and her Mother, Father and sister. Something bad had happened to them was what Kallian had guessed. Something that had made her believe she was truly a danger to the people around her.

What exactly happened, and why it had affected her so strongly, were two questions Kallian both wanted and at the same time sorely did not want to find out.

The group had settled on trying to find the Dalish next. The southern fortifications were holding for the time being the last they knew. The Brecillian Forest would soon be overrun however and the Dalish may very well move on before they could find them. Getting to the clans before that happened was vital.

That was the plan at least. A couple of miles into the forest they had come across a group of armed men surrounding a ragged, thin and terrified looking man. Kallian had been shocked; it was one of King Calian's honour guards from Ostagar!

Before they could step in, to try to do something, the man had been run through and left for dead. His killers had been dealt with in rather comically short order with a few long range spells and a couple arrows.

The man told them about the key to the Royal Arms Chest he had hidden at Ostagar, and promptly kinda died.

In all honesty, Kallian's first instinct had been to sod the whole idea and continue on what they were doing. What exactly did they need a fancy sword, some letters between the Orlesian empress and a dead man and a whole lot of bad memories for?

Then Alistair had pulled her aside and explained exactly why they would be going back.

Alistair knew exactly how the Joining ritual worked and what they needed. Said he'd overheard some of the older wardens discussing it at Ostagar. Fresh Darkspawn blood, not exactly hard to come by these days, and a single drop of preserved blood from an Archdemon.

Fereldan's entire stock was in a chest, buried underneath the Grey Warden tent. If they wanted Elsa to take the Joining, which they did, they would have to go get it.

So they did.

A few days, a lot of dead Darkspawn and a brief cremation later here they were. Just outside of the ruined town of Lothering.

They planned on completing the Joining ceremony later on that night. They had the blood they needed, the Joining chalice and a prospective recruit that Kallian desperately wanted to survive.

Then a madwoman dropped from the sky into the middle of their camp, riding a DRAGON of all things and everything had gone straight to the Void.