With its vast forests, the continent of Kalimdor looked much the same as the pocket cosmos of Luthius and Aerye. Under the evening light, the sea of greenery stretched far and wide, reaching the far limits of the dark blue sky. However, that was where the similarity ended. The foul stench of rotting filled the air. Black, foul patches of the tainted blight beneath the leaves betrayed the battles that had been raging here. In fact, nothing here had known peace ever since the Third War. After the Burning Legion was banished, the Lich King Ner'zhul furthered his ambition of world domination. Passing over the sea from the cold, frosty lands of Northrend, Ner'zhul's lackeys of Undead invaded this land of living. These foul creatures of corruption and death became a common sight, spreading their taint into the hearts of the forest as they marched towards Mount Hyjal where the Tree of Life stood. They never reached there, however, for the Kaldorei, guardians of the Ashenvale Forest, managed to time and time again defile their evil plans and snatched victory from the jaws of rotting evil.
The cries of battle raged across the putrid air as the Kaldorei army defended their beloved home. Even with the sun setting, the Night Elves and the Undead still fought to their destruction amongst the trees and bushes. The Kaldorei were at their best when battling in the night. With their Ultravision, the Kaldorei had an upper hand against their enemies as they could see much further in darkness. Still, the Night Elves did not dare to lower their efforts. Hiding themselves behind the thick trunks, the archers rained the larger, rotting abominations with waves of deadly arrows. The huntresses threw out their sharp knifes and decapitated the rotting heads of ghouls. The druids of the talon swung their starves at the meat wagons, which instantly disintegrated after the impact. Some of the druids transformed themselves into crows, pecking the eyes of the gargoyles and frost wyrms, blinding the flying minions of death before the chimaeras burnt them to ashes. The bodies of Undead smelt foul with decay as they fell, spilling the atrocious body fluids on the brown earth.
Fighting with her warriors on the edge of the battlefield was Alicia Hawkeye. A small, petite young girl, she fought with a surprising viciousness that could match any other of her fellow fighters. Her large, black cloak on her back did nothing to hinder her agility as her long, slender legs danced on the ghastly blight. Her wheel of blades sung through the air as she swung it into the skull of a nearby ghoul, splashing the rotten gore everywhere. Some of the stinking body fluid splashed onto her black helmet, but Alicia had no time to wipe it as she turned to cut another ghoul in half.
A barely twenty year old Night Elf, Alicia was perhaps one of the youngest amongst her fellow Kaldorei warriors. She was even younger when High Priestess Tyrande Whisperwind appointed her to be in charge of the nearby Kaldorei outpost. In such dire times of emergency, it was normal to have just about anyone to lead a base, though that did not stop many from doubting her abilities. Even Alicia doubted herself at that time. However, despite her hesitance at times, her tactical sensitivity and strategic insights had allowed her to lead her troops again and again to victory. No one had any doubts in her leadership anymore, and Arch-druid Malfurion Stormrage, who at last realized her potential, chose her to become a Warden, the greatest honor that a female Kaldorei could have.
Alicia could see that the battle was almost finished when her large, blue eyes landed upon the Kaldorei forces mopping up the last of the Undead. Despite the previous failures, the Undead Scourge still refused to change their tactics, which was nothing more than large numbers. For numerous times, Alicia countered it easily by running around her troops, dispersing the enemy forces and destroying them one by one. Smiling, Alicia took off her helmet, revealing her lovely yet childlike face with red, burning cheeks. Her long, black tresses dropped on her shoulder as she let out a relieved sigh from her small, red lips. Her clothing and her skin were damped with sweat, and her nose winced from the odor seeping out of the cracks between her armor, mixing with the stench of body fluid. Ever since her scouts came back with news of the Undead, she had been fighting. However, even with her mana drained, and her strength ebbed, Alicia was grateful that the Undead were fought off once again. In her mind she even had high hopes that they would never return, but she knew that it was impossible.
"Madam?" a voice nearby broke her reverie. Alicia blinked her eyes once, and saw the sleek form of one of her archers standing in front of her.
"Ah… um, yes?" Alicia staggered. Even after a year of her promotion she was still not quite used to be called "madam".
"We've got ourselves…um, a prisoner," reported the archer.
"Lead the way."
***
The body was small and humanoid, but through her archers' bodies, Alicia could see that the gigantic, leathery wings at the back. Her heart almost leapt with joy when she realized that her troops had finally captured a Dreadlord, one of those fiendish slaves of the unholy Lich King. As she passed though her archers, she could tell that some of them shared her hatred and rage. Others, however, had bafflement written on their faces, which puzzled the Warden. Dreadlords had always been one of the commanders of the Undead, and it should be of no surprise that one of them would be captured. The warden thought that she would just have a quick look at this Dreadlord before issuing the actual command of killing him. However, she found herself to be even more puzzled when she actually reached this Dreadlord.
On first sight Alicia found this Nathrezim to be particularly strange. Then she realized that the problem was in his clothing, which were normal. Far too normal, she thought, for a Dreadlord. He was wearing a backless vest, which was tucked into black shorts, pinched in with a black belt. Alicia kneeled down to feel the fabric with her fingers. It was soft and light like the clothes that the humans and high elves wore. Alicia, who was a weaver like many other Kaldorei girls, instantly noted that the material was too fine and too complex to be made by any human or elf. In fact, no one in Azeroth had this type of technology to weave such a fine and complex material. That could only mean that this Dreadlord here was not from this world.
Alicia shuddered at the thought. Could he be one of the Dreadlords from the Burning Legion, stranded in this world after the Third War? Her mind quickly recalled the time when she engaged the Dreadlord Anetheron during the battle of Mount Hyjal a couple of years ago. She remembered that he was wearing a suit of armor and triangular pants with a piece of cloth covering between the legs. If this Dreadlord here was one of those from the Burning Legion, Alicia expected him to wear armor, not this type of civilian clothes, if Dreadlords had any at all in the first place. As she looked at the unconscious face, she found something there that was very much atypical. Instead of evil and corruption, Alicia saw uprightness and a childlike innocence, as if this Nathrezim here had been shielded from any sort of evil in his life. When her hand touched the pale, smooth cheeks, Alicia felt as if she was touching a child. She could almost see the bright innocence in the closed eyes… This Dreadlord could come from anywhere BUT the Twisting Nether.
Alicia's fingers bumped onto a golden chain on the Dreadlord's neck. She slowly pulled it, and out came a red, heart-shaped crystal that made some of her archers gasp with wonder. Alicia had seen many beautiful gems in her life, but with crude technology they were all sliced into ugly, edgy shapes. This crystal, however, was very much rounded and, surprisingly, without any signs of breakage due to the cutting process. It and his clothes left Alicia beyond doubt that this Dreadlord came from a place with very advanced technology, or had been there at least.
"We also found this beside him, madam," one of the archers handed Alicia what seemed to be a bag. It was made out of similar material as the Dreadlord's clothing. The bag had a long, thick strap attached to the sides. There was only a flap covering the opening, which had edges decorated with a row of metal teeth. Alicia opened the bag and pulled out a large, heavy book which read "History of the Ancient World". Resting the book on her arm, she randomly opened to the page which had the large words "Chapter 5: the Rise of Athens" at the top. Her eyes quickly scanned through the words. Wardens were amongst the very few Night Elves that were literate and Alicia could recognize most of the words. However, she only became more confused as she read on. Athens? Megara? What nonsense is this? She saw the handwritten notes written at the blank sides. Obviously somebody took these words very seriously, nonsense or not.
Alicia looked at the Dreadlord. She had long come to the conclusion that he had nothing to do with the Undead Scourge or the Burning Legion. Then what was he doing here? More importantly, what should she do now? Her brow furrowed as a familiar struggle began in her head. Already, she started the conflict with herself in her heart. On one hand, she was afraid that she would kill an innocent, even a Dreadlord, if she executed him right here. On the other hand, if she let him go, she risked to miss a chance of destroying one of Ner'zhul's highest commanders in the Undead army…
"Madam, what should we do?" another archer asked. Alicia bit her lip. She had to make a decision quickly.
"I want him alive." She ordered as she put the book back in the bag and swung the bag behind her. "Take him to the outpost with us." It would be better if she could have more time to decide. Meanwhile the Dreadlord could stay with her.
Her archers nodded and obeyed. As she watched her troops surrounding the Dreadlord and carrying him away, Alicia let out a sigh. It had been a long day.
***
Algammon's fingers slowly curled. Then the hand relaxed again. Slowly the hand went for its owner's still aching forehead and the red eyes flicked open.
It was already at night, but in the darkness he could still make out the faint outline of metal bars. Algammon looked around and found himself to be trapped inside a metal cage. As he moved, the Dreadlord could feel himself swinging, which reminded him of being inside a cradle. His ears picked up the sound of creaking metal from above. He instantly looked up and saw that his cage, swinging in accordance with each of his movement, was hinged onto a wooden pole, which was rooted into the ground. His mind quickly raced to the thought of capture, and Algammon quickly realized that he should look at where he was and who his captors were.
His cage was small, but it was big enough for him to turn and more around without difficulty. Under the moonlight Algammon could see that he was at the edge of a grassy plain in the midst of a large forest. However, in his mind he could not recall any part of the forest he knew that looked like what he saw.
"Strange," he thought. "I don't recognize this part of the forest."
In the shadows a couple of strange looking trees stood in the open plains, waving their two largest branches at the side of their trunks like arms. Algammon's eyes widened in bewilderment. Was that a face on the trunk of the tree? He squinted to have a better look. It was definitely a face, sculpted right in the middle of the tree trunk. Algammon never knew the Mekinese to be artistic enough to make such sculptures. If so, then it must be some other people who had sculpted the thing. However, as far as Algammon knew, no one except for his foster parents and himself lived in the pocket cosmos. That could only mean…
"So, you've finally come to," a feminine voice said. Algammon turned and saw a young woman emerge from the shadows beside the cage. Other than Aerye, Algammon never saw a woman before. However, his reason kept his wonder in check as his eyes probed around. In the darkness her skin did not reflect much light, so Algammon assumed that she was dark skinned. In her hand, Algammon could make out the faint shape of his bag.
"Don't even think about breaking out," the girl said. "There are quite a few here who want you dead." She pointed.
Algammon, at first, did not saw anything in where she pointed. Then suddenly, from the darkness a couple of feminine figures appeared and then disappeared. Algammon gasped in surprise.
His mind was racing. He was definitely sure that he was no longer in the pocket cosmos. What was going on? A sudden realization then came into his head. That accident at the portal gate must have teleported him here. That left only one question to ask…
"Where am I?" Algammon asked.
"This land is called Kalimdor," she replied. "But if you are referring to the world you're in, it's Azeroth."
Algammon looked away. "I've never heard of a world called 'Azeroth'…" he began, but was interrupted by another girl running towards them.
"Madam Alicia!" she shouted. "The Undead are advancing again!"