Chapter Four: The Druids Arise

Kazzak and his doomguards stalked through the trees, seeking their enemies. As they marched, their feet crushed logs, and spilled unholy energy into the ground. It was their great pleasure to hack, and beat down underbrush and vines which got in their way. They left a satisfying trail of broken boughs around them. Just recently they had caught a patrol of night elf sentinels. Tired from a battle with orcs,. the night elves were easy prey, and most of them had been cut down.

The doomguards had taken their time with the survivors. They had used the prisoners for their own pleasure. Kazzak remembered fondly how their leader had screamed and moaned in agony. He'd had great sport having his way with her. Snapping her neck in the afterglow to bring an end to her suffering had just been a bonus. Only a few had slipped beyond their grasp, fleeing from the doomguards. Even now they were now fanning out throughout the trees in ranks.

"Keep your eyes open, warriors!" called Kazzak to his warriors. "Don't let the night dull your senses! The elves have a village somewhere around here, and we will destroy it!"

Then all of a sudden Kazzak caught sight of glinting mail in the sunlight, and there was a shout from above. "For Lordaeron! For Lady Jaina!"

"For the Horde!" came an answering call. "For Warchief Thrall!"

Kazzak smiled as he saw humans and orcs rushing over the hill towards him. Roaring a war cry he charged forward. He summoned a storm of fire with one hand that burned a segment of the enemy force alive. His minions sent forth their crippling magic, weakening their enemies minds and limbs. Then battle was joined.

Kazzak tore through three orcs and two humans with one swing of his blade! A doomguard crushed a troll underfoot as the creature tried to get some distance. Another hacked a tauren's head from his shoulders. A tauren broke a doomguards arm with his totem before the warrior was dragged down and cut to pieces by the orcs. A human stabbed a doom guard in the foot, sending him falling to the ground. Yet as the enemy closed around him, Kazzak stepped forward and hewed them down with mighty swings.

'Anetheron!' he cried. 'Now is the time!'

Anetheron's undead made their entrance, charging out of the corrupted woodlands. As the battle raged on, Kazzak offered a hand to his warrior, the doomguard took it, and they arose.

'On your feet warrior, there is plenty for all!' laughed Kazzak, for the joy of battle, was now upon him.

All around him he could see the gruesome spectacle. Hellhounds bounded through the trees to tear throats. Priests desperately tried to heal the wounded, only to be hacked down in turn. Sorceresses slowed one enemy, only to be overrun by swarms of ghouls. Gryphon riders soared across the skies, hurling their hammers to strike down abominations. Yet they were brought down by the webs of crypt fiends, and hacked apart by the giants of sewn flesh. Skeletons rose from the corpses of those who had fallen, swelling the ranks of the army.

As the tides of war turned against them, the humans and orcs formed a tight knot. They fought against enemies on all sides. Shamans filled the warrior's veins with bloodlust, so that they seemed to grow in size. Their strength was doubled. Balls of lightning surrounded a doomguard, forcing his comrades to scatter. The humans and orcs left behind them a trail of bodies as they fought to escape the encompassing net.

Kazzak raised one hand and unleashed the rain of fire upon the remaining forces. A vast pillar of flame filled the woodlands. Cries of dismay and fear echoed as flames rose high to hide their enemies from sight. In the process the front ranks of the undead were consumed, but they were of little concern. Then the flames dissipated to reveal a blue shield of magic. The warriors clustered within. A beautiful golden-haired sorceress was standing amidst the soldiers. As the shield faded the undead and doomguards rushed forward.

Then there was a flaring of blue magic, and the enemy army was gone.

"They escaped," said Anetheron as he appeared, "Lord Tichondrius will not be pleased."

"So much the better," replied Kazzak "I will enjoy crushing them a second time."

It had been the best kind of battle — the sort where the enemies were just strong enough to give you a real challenge. Orcs and humans knew how wars were supposed to be conducted. The doomguards returned parted ways with their undead slaves in good spirits.

Their spirits were somewhat dampened at what they found when they returned to camp. Many bodies were being dragged back from the woods. Some of them were peppered with black feathered arrows. Others were hewn with many cruel strokes of a familiar sword.

As if to rub in their failure, Tichondrius took that moment to appear. The Dreadlord emerged from the green mist and approached Kazzak. 'Lord Archimond demands a full report on the progress of the invasion. Be swift, I have business elsewhere to attend to.'

"We have just returned from a victory over the Alliance and Horde." said Kazzak."We have slain many of them, and sewed terror among the rest."No need to mention that some of them escaped.

"'Excellent," said Tichondrius, "and what of your other mission?"

"Lord Kazzak!" cried a doomguard. "We have a survivor!"

Kazzak turned to him, then glanced to Tichondrius. This matter could not afford to wait. The warrior might be dead by the time the dreadlord finished speaking. "Bring him here, I will question him personally."

The doomguard was dragged back alive, held between two others of his kind. One of his legs was missing as well as his left forearm. Kazzak loomed over him as his labored breathing continued. "Master… we have failed you…"

Kazzak felt a sense of pity for the doomguard before him. Then rage at a sound of contempt from the Dreadlord behind him. To die was the goal of all that lived. Yet to be crippled, to suffer the inability to stand by one's own strength. That was a terrible fate indeed. "Your time is short, warrior." said Kazzak."Tell me what you know, that I may ease your passing."

"…It was the death knight," said the doomguard, "he came upon us while we pursued a group of humans and orcs. We scarcely had time to react, he cut my comrades down like wheat, and he took their souls. He… he went north."

"'You heard him!" cried Kazzak to his men. "Focus the search in the area north of that area! Look for tracks! Move now!"

"'May I assume that the death knight continues to elude you, then?" surmised Tichondrius in a smooth and condescending tone that might have been amusement. There was an edge in his tone, however. Whatever the case Kazzak dearly wished to strike down the Dreadlord at that moment. But he knew it was beyond his power.

"Is there anything else, warrior?" asked Kazzak, peering at him. "Anything which might aid us?"

"'He… left me alive to give a message to Tichondrius." stammered the doom guard.

"'Speak it," said Kazzak, "quickly while you still have strength."

"'You were right to fear the scourge." The doomguard told him the message, then closed his eyes in resignation. "Finish it."

Kazzak raised his blade and brought it down to hew the fallen doomguard's skull. Then, wiping his blade upon the grass, he sheathed it. He turned to Tichondrius and was astounded by what he saw. Tichondrius' eyes had widened, his mask of control had slipped just a little. He looked as if he was calculating a thousand different scenarios. Each one more terrible than the last.

Then it passed, and he scoffed. "The final insolence of a hunted mortal, no doubt.'

Kazzak, however, was not quite so sure.

It was a tranquil pool, undisturbed by the darkness in the Winterspring Valley. Two days had passed since the Horn of Cenarius had been blown. The stags and other animals had gathered to this sacred place, seeking shelter. Amidst these wondrous sights, two lovers reunited. Malfurion Stormrage stepped forward to meet Tyrande, eyes full of love, and sadness.

"It has been a thousand years since I last looked upon you, Tyrande." he said. "I thought of you every moment I wandered through the Emerald Dream."

Tyrande herself had always looked young, yet for the first time, her eyes reflected it. The beautiful maiden approached him and clasped his hands in hers. She looked different. "My heart rejoices to see you again, Furion." said Tyrande, voice holding but a glimmer of the emotion she felt. "But I would not have awakened you unless the need was urgent.' She let go and looked away.

It was not a purely physical difference. He green haired was tied differently true, but she was much the same. He face was still an image of pure beauty, and her ample bust and hips were no different. But her eyes were older. Much like his. There was an edge in them. And her body language was changed, like that of a caged animal. A tiger stalking a place they know is not truly theirs.

What had happened?

Things had changed, even if the night elves had not.

Furion turned out to look across the pool, watching fish swim in and out the rocks. He drove his staff into the waters, and the fish swam around it. Then he removed it. "In the Dream, I felt our land being corrupted, just as if it were my own body. You were right to awaken me."

"The Burning Legion has returned, Furion." said Tyrande. "Cenarius is dead, and outlanders roam freely through our most sacred vales."

"As was foretold…" reflected Malfurion, turning back to the pool. "No doubt Archimonde will make his way to Hyjal Summit and attack the World Tree. If he succeeds in draining the tree's energies, this world will be doomed."

"'My only thought was to awaken you and the rest of the druids." said Tyrande. "The druids of the Talon reside within Barrow Dens at the end of this valley. If we can reach them, we may have a chance to stop Archimondeand his Demons!"

"'To arms!" came a nearby call.

Tyrande and Malfurion turned their gaze to the direction of the sound of battle. Scaling a nearby hill, they looked down to see humans doing battle with the undead. Swords hewed skulls; claws tore at throats. Cleavers cut men in two, while guns were fired to shoot down mighty abominations. Finally, the undead withdrew, bloodied and few in number.

"'That did it boys!" called a female soldier. "We've driven them off! Let's regroup back at our base and tend to our wounded!"

Furion cupped his chin with two fingers. "So, the outlanders battle against the undead as well? They could prove powerful allies against Archimondeand his ilk."

"'They are mongrels and nothing more!" snapped Tyrande."Their orcish allies are responsible for Cenarius' death! I will be damned before I stand with them!"

Malfurion sighed, and for once felt his age. "Perhaps you are right, my love. We will establish our new settlement here. Keep your sentries alert. I doubt that we have seen the last of the outlanders or the undead."

They made their way back to their forces. There Malfurion raised his staff. By his will, the ancients arose from their slumber and lumbered into view. Leading their forces some ways north, they established their new settlement.

The ancients lumbered into place and established themselves. Shelters were established quickly by the sentinels. Tyrande observed it happen, then looked to Shandris.

"Shandris, send runners to the nearby villagers." said Tyrande. "Tell them to must their forces and prepare for war. Ask them to send aid."

"As you wish, Priestess." said Shandris.

As her orders were relayed, Tyrande called to her an owl and sent it wandering to the northwest. As it flew, she saw through its eyes that the orcs had yet another settlement in place. She would have loved nothing more than to purge it, yet there did not seem to be any way up to the cliffs. She did not have any flying beasts. Yet they had many wyverns with them. Sending the owl a little ways along, she saw a dark troll village near a fountain of health.

She had no reason to hate the dark trolls as of yet. "Furion, I have located an ancient fountain of health. It might prove very useful to our wounded. Yet it is guarded by a village of dark trolls. What would you have me do?"

The question was made out of habit, and she wondered why she found it so unpleasant to ask. She had always taken Malfurion's judgment without question in the past.

"'We have no quarrel with the dark trolls." reflected Malfurion."Yet the fountain might prove of great use to us. This is a matter of war, not nature, and I leave the decision to you, my love."

"Very well." said Tyrande."We will wipe them out and take the fountain for ourselves. Shandris, ready our sentinels, we should not need much force for this. Come Furion, it has been many years since we did battle side by side." It was only right that she should decide military matters. She had been the one doing the fighting all these years.

Furion said nothing as they marched through the trees swiftly. Before long they came within sight of the dark trolls and fell upon them. Axes were thrown at them, and arrows were returned in kind. A few sentinels fell wounded to the ground, but they have swiftly dragged away. Many more dark trolls died for the effort. Malfurion raised his staff. Tendrils reached up to grab trolls with thorns, tearing at their flesh. Screams were heard, as Tyrande fired her bow and pierced one through the neck.

Yet a pocket of trolls rallied behind their chieftain. They defended a barricade, hurling spears and axes. The initial was repulsed with casualties, and Tyrande looked to her love as they gathered. 'Malfurion, summon the treants that we might slay these mongrels.'

'As you wish, my love.' said Malfurion, before raising his staff.

The trees themselves roared to life, and charged at the trolls. The barricade was broken. At the same time, the night elves fired their arrows at the trolls, slaying many. Finally, after a few minutes, all of the warriors were dead. The threat of the dark trolls was ended.

Malfurion looked troubled and opened his mouth to speak. Shandris arrived first.

"What of the women and children Priestess?" asked Shandris. "What would you have done with them?"

"'These are not aligned with those who slew Cenarius." said Tyrande. "And they are no threat to us. Let them live. No doubt in a generation, we will face their children. Yet it is the way of things." She glanced to her sentinels. "Bring the wounded to the fountain, immerse them in its healing waters that they might be restored!' Then she recalled that Malfurion had something to say. 'What was it you were saying, my love?"

"'…It is nothing," said Malfurion, "perhaps later."

As they returned to camp, they found the corpses of many wyverns lying upon the ground, broken by stones. The ancient protectors had been at work. At that moment a vast host of wyvern riders flew overhead, and arrows were launched. Yet they paid no heed to the night elves, and instead flew elsewhere. In the distance, Tyrande saw them meet a host of gargoyles in battle, and they tore each other apart.

"Our time is depleting fast." said Tyrande. "With most of our forces battling the Legion, we must find another location for a settlement! Only then will we be able to reach the Barrow Downs!'

Gathering what soldiers were available, Tyrande led her soldiers east, guarding the ancients as they lumbered. As they marched, however, Shandris came with a report.

"Priestess," said Shandris, "a nearby village of night elves has just been raided by the dark trolls. Our attack on their village has enraged them."

"Gather our forces, Shandris." said Tyrande. "We will purge this village of brutes and make our people safe."

"As you command, Priestess."

Shan'do began to speak, then fell silent.

The battle was brief and vicious. For a few moments, the trolls held their own. Then Malfurion summoned the treants and the trees crushed down their enemies. He seemed oddly reluctant to do so, however, and Tyrande wondered why.

Then again he always had been sentimental. Once she had been that way as well. When had it changed? The thought disturbed her.

"We did not need to fight these creatures." said Malfurion."And avoiding a confrontation could have saved many lives."

"'We are in need of haste." said Tyrande."And these mortal races are resilient. Within twenty or thirty years they will have repopulated."

Malfurion said nothing as they continued. In a little grove, they found a place which suited Tyrande's tastes, and she turned to Shandris. "Go to the village, and tell them that it is time for us to move. Lead them here."

"'As you wish, Priestess." said Shandris, before racing off.

Pressing on with her forces, Tyrande halted as she came to a place where a fountain of health had once stood. Great pillars stood on either side of it, marking it as a sacred place for the Furbolgs. Now it was corrupted, its water green slime. Around it was a blighted landscape, and furbolgs wandered. Yet their eyes were mad, and they tore at the ground and at the trees.

'Wait, I know those Furbolgs!' said Tyrande, trying to keep the horror out of her tone. 'They escaped to Ashenvale when the corruption started to spread!'

'Perhaps… they did not escape the corruption after all.' said Malfurion bitterly.

Then the Furbolgs took notice of them and roared ferally. They charged forward with wrath. Malfurion summoned vines to entangle their leader. Arrows were launched without orders at them.

The huntresses rode their panthers into the front. They hurled their glaives, drawing blood. It was hardly even a fair battle. The furbolgs were half starved and mad with rage. They did not fight in any order, and soon the war party died, falling to the ground with moans of pain.

"I've never seen the creatures so… aggressive before." said Malfurion.

"Then I will put an end to their curse!" cried Tyrande.?"Andu falah dor!"

And she led her forces onwards, to the north to where she knew there to be a settlement. The guards were as mad-eyed and aggressive as the others. Tyrande and her forces fell on them with the fury of the woodlands. Launching arrow after arrow, they brought them down in great swaths. Then pressed on to the main village. There they did battle with great numbers of the creatures. One nearly slew Tyrande, only to be pulled back by vines. The trees came to life as Malfurion demanded, and they tore the Furbolgs apart. On and on the battle raged, for hour after hour, until at last the furbolgs all lay slain.

All that remained was a small pocket to the north, on the heights of the hill. Tyrande gave her warriors time to tend to their wounded, and rest before she made the assault. When an hour had passed, she launched the assault.

It was bloody work. The furbolgs fought back with terrible strength. Many night elves were slain in the battle. Blood ran in rivers, and few at the end of it were uninjured. Without Malfurion's control over nature, few indeed might have survived the bitter victory. Tyrande realized that she was not as affected by the many casualties she had suffered as she ought to be.

"You've changed, Tyrande." said Malfurion finally. "There is little mercy left in you."

The words incensed her. "Long ago, I swore to protect this land, Furion. I never had the luxury of sleeping through great peril."

"'If your endless vigil has hardened you, my love,' said Malfurion,"it must be part of your goddess' plan.' The words were unexpected, and Tyrande did not know what to think. So she said nothing.

As they made their way back, Tyrande could not help but wonder what Elune's plan was, and what purpose she served in it.

They returned to the newly constructed settlement and found it already under assault. By trolls. Yet these were different, they wielded spears, and their skin was a new hue. Wyverns flew above them, hurling poisoned spears. Ancients hurled great stones at the creatures. After a few minutes of terrible fighting, the enemy was beaten.

"Priestess Tyrande, thank goodness you came back when you did."' said Shandris. "Our move was harassed by orcs, and even after we drove them off, they returned in greater numbers."

"'It seems our enemies are taking note of our presence." said Tyrande."Would that I had flyers that I might burn their crude villages to the ground."

"To do so would only allow the undead to focus the whole of their attention on us." said Malfurion."It is better if we slip beneath their notice, and let them weaken each other."

"'The time for that plan has passed." replied Tyrande, before calling her forces. She led them east a ways, until she came across a party of huntresses who rode forward.

"'There is danger ahead, Priestess." their leader said. "You must proceed with caution."

Tyrande rode ahead and saw that there was a formidable pass before them. The only way through was barred by a great gate which blocked all entrance to and fro.

"Malfurion," said Tyrande,"ready our forces. I will see what I may learn from our enemies in this place."

Riding forward she summoned a bird to her and sent it flying over the fortress. It was a formidable fort indeed and was guarded by many armed men. Their armor was thick and their shields broad. Despite herself, Tyrande found herself reluctant to slay the humans. She remembered the mercy they had shown the furbolgs earlier, and what she had seen of them. Malfurion's words came back to her, and she shook it off.

The humans had given her no choice.

"Forth sentinels!" cried Tyrande."Wipe them out!"

Leading the charger herself, Tyrande saw the humans open the gates to give battle. Arrows were launched in great volleys that tore through the front defense with ease. Yet as they pressed on, they found themselves faced with far heavier resistance. Malfurion called upon the trees they were hewing to do battle. But the peasants of the humans themselves took up arms and fought.

For a few terrible hours, the battle raged. A paladin fought at the head, healing his warriors and smiting Huntresses left and right. Finally, the Paladin fell against the side of a tree, shot with many arrows, and they pressed on into the town itself.

"Priestess," cried Shandris, "the humans have built the center of their town from stone! Fire will not destroy it."

"'Leave this to me." said Malfurion.

The Druid raised his staff, and massive amounts of vines scaled up the castle. They clenched the stonework as they climbed higher and higher. Until they surrounded it completely. Then they began to tighten. Little by little the vines made indentations in the stone until it began to collapse in on itself. Towers fell down, as those within fled the walls to find the arrows of the night elves waiting for them.

"'Burn the lumber mills, and kill all who oppose us!" cried Tyrande."Shandris, call for the ancients to press forward. We will set up our base here!"

Lumber mills were set to the torch with the very material they had been built to collect. The barracks was torn down, burned from the inside. Tthe remaining human warriors made their stand near the houses. Far more elegant than orcish ones. As the night elves advanced, the soldiers of the humans threw down their weapons. "We surrender damn you!" cried woman. "We surrender!"

There came a pause in the fighting. Tyrande paused, as everyone looked to her. Finally, she spoke. "What do you mean?"

"'We mean we give up!" said the women, coming forward with her hands up. "We admit defeat! We won't oppose you anymore, just don't kill us, please!"

Tyrande had fought wars for over ten thousand years, and she honestly could say that she had no idea what to do next. She turned the whole of her thoughts to the matter and drew a complete blank.

The only consolation was that everyone else among the night elves was just as confused as she was. Nobody had ever, surrendered, as they were saying to her, as long as she had ever lived. There had been a few demons who tried to make deals with her. There had been temporary alliances with dark trolls. Yet wars in Ashenvale were a way of life, there was always a war with one faction or the other. Giving up with the expectation that the other side wouldn't kill you was simple insanity.

What kind of world did these humans come from?!

"'What trickery is this?" asked Tyrande. "You outlanders enter our forests, desecrate our sacred groves. Now just because you've given up fighting, you expect us not to kill you?"

"It's not trickery." said the women, taken aback. "Are you telling me that in the entire history of your species none of your enemies have ever surrendered to you?"

"'We usually don't give them an opportunity." reflected Shandris ruefully.

"'I had intended to spare those of you who could not fight." admitted Tyrande."But why should I let any of those who can go free? You will simply return with new weapons and fight against us again." She raised a hand to give the order to attack.

"Wait, you don't have to actually let us go free!" cried the women quickly. "You could take us, prisoner!"

"As was done to Illidan after he restored the well of eternity." reflected Malfurion. "Yet he was spared because it was judged that his talents might one day be of use to us. What use could these outlanders be put to? It will take resources to hold them, and we will have to feed them."

"'Bargaining power!" said the women quickly. "If you take us prisoner it will strengthen your position in a negotiated peace.'

Absolute silence. The night elves looked at each other, at a complete loss.

"Negotiations." tried the women."You know, when uh… you… you have no idea what I'm talking about, do you?"

Malfurion looked somewhat abashed. "We… have remained somewhat isolated for the past ten thousand years."

"I can tell." she said."Okay, so, uh… sometimes you have two factions who hate each other a lot. And they are constantly killing each other for a variety of reasons." It sounded like the night elves and the satyrs. "Well, sometimes it is decided that it isn't good for either side to be killing each other anymore. So the leaders of both sides meet and decide on the terms of the truce.

"You know, like uh… what territories belong to who.

"When that happens it is common for prisoners to be exchanged. So if you take us captive, you will be able to get an advantage by holding us, prisoner."

"There is merit in what she says." reflected Malfurion. "Sentinels, get their weapons and bind their hands. Find places for them to be held within the ancients. Go quickly; we have much work to do."

Tyrande glared at him. He had undercut her authority completely, by agreeing to this humans suggestion. She was the commander of the military, it should have been hers to decide. Even so she mastered herself. "Shandris, take charge of the defense of this place. I will head south, and awaken the druids. Come Furion."

They found the gate. After some prolonged attempts to try and figure out how to open it, just broke it down. Beyond they found blighted lands and a pale mist hanging over the trees. Out of the shadows came a force of dryads and huntresses.

"Be careful Priestess!" said one."These woods are overrun by the dead!"

"'Then we shall purge them from this land!" cried Tyrande."Onwards my warriors!"

They had not gone far before they faced great hosts of skeletons and ghosts. Battle was joined. Huntresses cut through bones with their glaives. Tyrande fired arrows, imbuing them with magic that interrupted the power of the skeletons. Dryads ran the ghosts through with spears. Even as they destroyed one force and went on, still more undead around to challenge them.

Great wolves, mad-eyed, rushed out of the trees. Yet the arrows of the night elves cut them down with ease. Pressing on, they met more and more undead. Some of them wielded bows. An arrow caught a sentinel in the shoulder, and she fell before Malfurion summoned the trees to tear them apart.

The enemy was repulsed.

No sooner had they halted to rest, the undead returned. Once again the night elves fought. Tyrande and her warriors drove the undead before them to the edge of a ghostly river. They did battle in the shroud of fog and destroyed them all.

As they crossed spirits came out of the mist. Their cries filled their minds with horrors as a massive revenant approached.

Arrows blotted out the waning sun, while dark magic filled the air. On and on the combat waged. Tyrande danced aside from the revenant's mace atop her tiger, firing arrow after arrow. At last the enemies were slain, and the revenant fell dead.

As soon as it died, the mists faded. The blighted ground was healed, and the trees which had been wilting became fresh and green. Birds sang again, and deer began to roam once more as animals returned from hiding. Yet there was still much to be done.

"Hopefully, the land should heal itself from this cursed blight." said Tyrande. ''We should get moving. The Barrow Dens lie within the valley just ahead of us.'

They came over the crest of the hill and Tyrande stopped in horror. Many figures with goat hooves and wild beards were in the clearing below. They had blades in their hands, and the stench of fel corruptions was everywhere.

"No! The outpost has been corrupted! And the treants have been driven mad!" said Tyrande. "They do not deserve this cruel fate!" She led her forces down the hill, towards the entrance to the pass. However, they found it barred by a satyr and many treants.

"Come no further, weakling!" said the Satyr in contempt. "Lord Tichondrius commanded us to kill anyone who attempted to enter this place, and we shall!"

"Pathetic wretches!" cried Malfurion in rage. "It pains me to know that you once called yourselves night elves!"

Battle was joined with no mercy or quarter given on either side. The satyrs danced with duel blades and killed several archers. Yet several were shot down in turn. Huntresses clashed their blades with the wholly legged monsters. Tyrande shot two through the throat while Shandris killed five.

Then a great stone whistled out of the air. Tyrande ducked, and it surged overhead to crush an archer.

Tyrande looked up to see corrupted ancients lining the ridge. Malfurion raised his staff and summoned vines to hold the satyrs in place, then summoned yet more trees. At last, the enemy was overrun, but as they approached more stones were hurled at them. Several sentinels fell near Tyrande.

The night elves set fire to the tormented creatures. They moaned in agony as the flames coursed up their rotting bodies. Finally, they fell into ashes and settled into the peace of death.

Yet this was only the edge of the horrors.

They found beyond a grove of trees that was twisted and horrible. The limbs were like claws and hatred oozed from them. At the center were what had once been moonwells, and ancients. All were in agony now.

"What do we do, Priestess?" asked Shandris.

Tyrande closed her eyes. "Destroy them all. We have no choice."

"She is right." said Malfurion. "The source of this taint must be burned away for the forest to heal.

Every treant was destroyed. Every corrupted moonwell was filled in. Every ancient was set aflame. The corruption which filled its boughs would not spread.

Finally, tired beyond measure, but resolute, they made their way up to the Barrow Dens.

The Barrow Dens was a large structure, surrounded by a great wall of ancient design and make. In times of trouble, it could have been held against a vast army by only a few. Yet those within were sleeping.

Malfurion stood at the threshold and raised his staff on high.

"Come forth, Druids of the Talon!" he cried."Let the Storm Crows fly once again upon the winds of war!" His voice reached forth to the building, and out of the windows flew host upon host of crows. They circled above him in great clouds. Three of them descended and transformed into the forms of elves.

"Ishnu-alah, my brethren." said Malfurion, taking one by the shoulder. "Kalimdor has need of your powers once again. For the hour of doom is at hand."

"We are yours to command, Shan'do Stormrage." said their leader.

"Now we must delve into the earth," said Malfurion, "and rouse the ferocious druids of the claw from their slumber."

Authors Note:

This chapter was a nightmare to fix. It had all kinds of pacing problems, a remnant of the videogamey approach to storytelling which I hadn't quite abandoned by this point. Once I've completely edited Rage of the Eternal into a better looking format, I intend to go back and split up some of the longer chapters so it's less of a slog to read through them.

On a separate note, I just realized something. When Arthas purges Stratholme, the only way to save his kingdom and save the people of the city from a far worse fate, it's presented as a moral event horizon. When Tyrande brutally slaughters the entire furbolg race because they got a little aggressive, she's doing what needs to be done.

Blizzard's stance seems to be that's it is A-okay to commit genocide as long as you are only pretending to be a good person. If you are genuinely trying to do the right thing you've crossed a line. But if you're still committing horrific atrocities for fun while making excuses, like the orcs or night elves, you're doing what needs to be done.

Is there any wonder a lot of people regard Tyrande as a villain?