"Death doesn't scare me. But those who dare tamper with its design do…"

Kel'Thuzad, a year before falling under the sway of the Lich King.


"ENOUGH!"

Chromie's voice overwhelms the traveling boom of the gun. Her voice, however, is not enough to dull the situation. Her voice is not enough. So I wait, impatiently, for the impact. I wait, depressingly, for the end. But, for some reason, I do not think it is coming. Not now, anyway.

"Cutie!" She shouts at me, "I am so sorry!"

My eyes open, but I dare not look at her. An object of short distances holds my focus strong. Inches from my face, inches from the epicenter of my existence, is a small, glistening, gray pebble. As I gawk at it, lost in this moment in time, I almost instantly decipher its origin. I almost instantly discover its purpose…

A bullet…

"I didn't think the idiot was actually going to do it!" A pressure builds below my knee, but I cannot take my eyes off this…round. "Please, please, please, forgive me!"

She didn't think he would do it? Sadly, demoralizing, depressingly, for the first time ever, Chromie…you are sadly mistaken. I have no idea what your futuristic visions entailed, but it obviously did not involve me getting the front of my face vaporized.

Reality, however, begged to differ. Part of me desires to send the tip of my toe between your eyes, but the rest…the rest knows damn well of your intentions.

But that is not important. No, only the circular orb, built hastily to end life with speed even greater, controls my thoughts know. You, Chromie, are going to have to take a back seat to the rage before me…

You need to relax. You know she wouldn't let you get hurt.

Yeah. Maybe you are right. But…this projectile is just that persuasive…

You know she always protects you.

My head is still in one piece.

You need to turn to her and squeeze her back.

Her tiny yelps remind me of a squeals. And, in turn, remind me of innocence and the desire to cuddle something…

You can do it!

My eyes shift in their sockets, but I do not move an inch. Just barely, I can make out the tiny gnome hugging my leg. I want to move and comfort the miniature figure, but…

You would rather stand here…staring at a floating, metal, death bringer?

Good point.

Without wasting a second, I jerk down, and grasp the tiny figure in my hands. My body wobbles in its stance. Blood sprints to the top of my head, throwing me into a weak situation. It darts back out, giving me the time necessary to upright myself.

Throwing myself upwards, I drag the small female along for the ride. Fingers grip her waist, spanning almost a complete circle around her entire torso. Nervous muscles twitch, vibrating gently for both of us to feel.

Tiny eyes pierce my soul, filling it with sadness and understanding. Tiny teeth arrange a perfect picture. Curse you, Chromie. Curse you, and your adorable demeanor!

Butterfly kisses float before her gentle words.

"So I take this as your forgiveness?"

I can only manage a weak nod and a subtle blink.

"Thank you, Cutie!"

She claps her tiny paws and squeals delightfully. Oddly, though, her smile fades to a neutral appearance and she clears her throat. It would appear something displeasing has crossed her mind…

"I was just trying to see what Saylem was up to! I didn't want anyone to get hurt! I swear!" She grabs both my index fingers within her tiny clutches, "I had to catch him the act, that's all. I promise. I promise!"

I gawk at her, motionless. Honestly, I believe every word she speaks, but a terrible mixture of dizziness and fear clings heavily on my flesh. I feel my eyes drift from the gnome and over to the metal again. Maybe it's this bullet…

It is then she squeaks and speaks again.

"Cutie, could you," her head turns towards the bullet, "move me a bit closer to it?"

I blink twice before twisting my entire body. She spins towards the pebble, coming inches from it. Her tiny paw extends out, touches the bullet, and to my excitement, it flashes before vanishing into thin air.

I suddenly release a pocket of tense air. Then, after take a deep breath, I look at her.

"Thank you, Chromie."

She giggles, but I cannot get the metal round out of my head. That very second. He actually pulled the trigger. What was he thinking? What was he planning afterwards? Oh no…

Darion…

My head pivots. Suspended in his prior moment, is Saylem. Smoke clings onto the air, as if the gun was halted instantly after firing. A prefect display of his guilt, idiocy, and anything else you dare lather upon his mentally-hindered self.

To his side, and to the ground, gathers the robed assembly; a minuscule distance from them is an assaulting mob. Draped figures are clutched by dozens of denizens wearing an expression of utter hate for their frozen moment. It would seem Saylem's act rallied the crowd in the wrong way…

Shifting my optics, I peruse the crowd for Darion. Fortunately, the Death Knight has a knack for making his presence is known. His face is locked on me, his mouth agape, stretched to the fullest extent possible. The epitome of unbridled rage etched into flesh.

Flowing in a ring around him is a mesh of red, black, and other shades that I cannot truly describe. Robed men lean backwards, as the wall of energy knocks them from Darion's body. It would seem…Darion was not too pleased by Saylem either…

"Cutie, you still there?"

Abruptly, I break from my thoughts. My sight roams back to Chromie, of who braces a smile for my delight.

"I know this is a very…invigorating moment, but…" her smiles fades, "could you do me a favor?"

I try to open mouth, but decide to nod my head instead. I just do not feel…capable…of speaking right now.

Chromie, however, is full of talk.

"Well, I am about to get very, very angry. And well, " she smiles again, "and I would rather not have you see it. K, Cutie?"

All I can do is stare at her, hoping to convey signs of my confusion. Thankfully, she catches on quickly.

"You wouldn't like me when I am angry, Cutie. And I like you…liking me…k?"

Again I nod. An awkward fancy floats in, filling the void of silence with the density of uncertainty.

"Cutie? Put me down, please."

A brief pause.

"Ok."

She stares at me.

"Cutie, start walking?"

I blink twice, a strong sense of confusion and nausea still strangling my thoughts. Then, once I am able to compose myself enough, I speak.

"Ok."

My weightless body jerks up and down in efforts to display agreement. Diverting from the stage, I march forward. I am not sure where I am going, nor what I am going to do, but…I really couldn't care less.

I just walk.

I walk down a large, curved road. I walk aimlessly, seeking whatever dares guide. After a minute or two, I notice the gap in the wall, and I walk to it. There, I throw myself up and jump to the ground. A second later, I march across the hard, dead grass.

I just walk…

Slowly I relax as I stride onto the gravel path. A familiar path. A familiar route. But, for some odd reason, I do not feel like traversing the traditional. My eyes dart forward, towards a barn in the distance. I haven't been there before.

I take a deep breath, pausing briefly to scratch my rather tense chest. As I move, I cannot help but feel a strange anxiety creep over me. I take a breath again, and am forced to rub my tight chest another time. That moment must have been more traumatizing than a thought…

Then, as if on cue, a deep, enraged voice rolls from behind. I twist, gawking back to the city, hoping that I may get a glimpse of the one shouting. I cannot make out what he is saying, but its ring bears only hatred. Is that Darion? No, no…that voice is different…

That couldn't be Chromie, could it? Nah, she is…a she…duh…

You never know.

Suddenly, a sharp pinch snaps at my chest, and the borders of my vision pulsate. I grab the sides of my head, trying to contain the unexpected barrage of quaking. What in the world?

The sensation lingers for a few seconds before fading to nothing. That was weird. I pull myself back up, and shake my head at the uproar back in town. Go easy on them, Chromie.

I smile, and turn back around. Instantly, the joy vanishes…

Ahead of me, a field of trees rest. They cover the area where the barn once was. Each one stands taller than previously thought. Each one holds firmly, thicker and stronger than previously imagined. Each one exists…a green hue meshing within their bark…

How could I have been so stupid?

I spin back. A few feet from me is massive shrub, towering taller than I, and spreading wide for yards. No longer visible is a city. No longer visible is Andorhal. How could I have been so dense?

Green borders return. A haze of emerald fills the once tan glow. Light jade consumes ever inch of reality. Unfortunately, all sense of security, safety, and tranquility dissipate into nothingness.

I am here…in the fantasyland again. Wonderful…

Deeply I sigh. Looks like I better gain my bearings. My eyes survey the nearby terrain. Tall trees and heavy bushes block most of my sight. A few breaks in the foliage are visible, but not significant enough to allow any sight or give any guidance. As I sweep the trees, I do notice something odd about them.

Their green tint is rather…lacking. It is there, yes, but…the trees bear more of their original colors than the ones in Eastern Plaguelands. Strange. I wonder what it means?

You may not want to wonder.

Again, I sigh, but this time, a sense of frustration clutches me. Why now? Why…right now? Couldn't it have waited a few more minutes?

Rage consumes me, and an uncontrollable force pulls me forward. My feet stomp the ground heavily, physically expressing my displeasure. Gah! I hate it here! I reach forward, tugging at the stupid bush. I hate this green pasture of torture.

Angrily, I heave to my left, aiming for a gap positioned near a large tree. This place brings nothing but anguish. I hate you, fantasyland! I hate…

"Welcome!"

My legs freeze. Blood within my veins turns to ice. Muscles buckle throughout my body. Someone is here. Someone is shouting to me! I dare not look. I dare not move…

"Welcome, grand Protectors." The low-pitched, rather gentle, yet menacing voice rolls from beyond this tree ahead of me.

I take a breath and attempt to regain my composure. Hope, whoever he is, he obviously isn't talking to you. Unless, of course, he is talking to you and your voice. No…no, that cannot be it.

Feeling creeps back into my body, and I uncontrollably pull myself to the tree.

"Do you like what I have done with the place?"

I brace my body on the bark, and pull my head to the side.

"Why must you Night Elves be so…unsociable?" I catch sight of a tall, bulky figure looming above three kneeling men, "All I desire is for a simple conversation, yet you merely gawk, void of all personal connection."

Night Elves? Yes, those are what those three kneeling figures look like. Long ears, painted faces, exactly like the tall figure back in the Eastern Plagues. These, however, are not the same man. They have different face paint, and matching outfits. Almost like uniforms…

The cheery personality, however, I cannot make out. His cape consumes the bulk of his form, except for the metal helm glistening above it. Oddly, the said drape seems to shake and quiver, as if quaking unnaturally. It tugs and dances in all directions, wafting and bending as if some unfelt wind is playing beneath it.

The movement isn't very dramatic, and if you didn't focus on it, you probably wouldn't notice. However, the portion that drags upon the ground is rather noticeable. It seems to cling to the dirt, the circular borders of the fabric expanding and contracting across the dark soil.

If I didn't know any better…the solid black cape is one giant shadow.

I lean out a bit further, examining the terrain for more anomalies of the sorts. Sadly, as I pull my entire chest out from behind the tree, I feel my legs lock, and my jaw lower. Standing a short distance from the four of them…is a wall.

An enormous barricade, constructed not of brick and stone, but of materials vastly more terrifying. Before me are men clad in black, the blocks of this massive field of darkness. Before me are blades, long and glistening, the mortar for unity. A field of soldiers. A wall...

It is…an army…

I pull myself to the bark, clutching its flesh mercilessly. Bewildered orbs scan the focused soldiers, taking in their true form. Each one is the exact same as the last, covered in solid black armor, a heavy, dark cape flowing behind their armored, bulky shapes.

The plate upon their flesh is thick, adding a great deal of girth to their appearance. Rivulets are carved into various locations throughout the armor, and, like Darion, a pulsating glow changes from black to gray and vice a versa.

Red is the only unique shade to their dreary appearance. That, of which, flows as smoke from their helms. It drifts from the vertical, thin slits, and crawls outward from the horizontal slots, carvings for their unholy sight. Coiling upwards, it climbs to the skies, burning the air.

I follow the smoke, and find myself locking upon a tall, floating banner. A sheet, crafted of a dull black, is the backdrop for the main symbol. A black glove reaches upward, three fingers curled upwards, while two curl towards the palm. Encircling it is a spiraling, black cloud.

"Oh the sorrow, oh the despair!" The dark figure lures my mind back, "How can such wanted companions pain me so?"

His cape ripples gently.

"All I ask for is…a simple chat!" His voice oscillates, as if filled of misery, "All I ask is for a brief, fleeting dialogue composed of more than little old me..."

Vision stays squared upon the dark figure. Night elves gaze emotionless upward. A lost gravedigger glares confusedly. He stands amongst an ocean of green, near a sea of black. He stands watching as the figure clutches his head in his palm. He stands…mesmerized by the sudden tremor of the shadowy cape.

Its borders dance playfully, twisting and bending as a majestic dancer dare do. They break the boundaries of their former shape, creeping unnaturally upon the firm soil. Crawling across the earth, the cape drawing outwards like smoke from a gun.

From a gun…

Saylem's gun. But he is not here. He is not in sight. Hope, that is a recent memory, a moment lost in the past. However, its teachings seem to hold strong. Its lessons bear repeating…

Once again, I find myself upon a stage, this time of a phantasmal land, built within my own head. Once again, I find myself rushing headlong, if only within the confines of my mental playground. Once again, the gun is raised, but this time its barrel stares not at me.

"What a terrible shame." He shake his head, disappointment painting each of his words, "Look what you are going to make me do?"

The shadows curl further towards the unsuspecting figures. They sneak, void of attention, but full of devastation. It is the smoke to the gun. The bang to the cannon. The beginning to the end…

A gun…

"Truly disappointing." His words boom louder than any blasting weapon.

A dark gun…

How long until it shifts? How long before it spins, the passageway of destruction greeting with the booming roar of acceptance?

I fear that is only the beginning of something much worse. That I dodged one bullet upon the platform of Andorhal to stumble back into the illusionary path of another…