The vulture soared over the battlefield, eying with greed the huge amount of lifeless corpses, mutilated and grayed with age that littered the hills. Many blood elves died this day, it noted with a careful eye, but many more Scourge had breathed the last of its unlife.
The Blood Elf camp rested on the highest hills that over looked the battlefield, with the trees being they're only shield against the horrific odor of the rotting corpses. In the center of the camp was a tent with a lone flag bearing the mark of a scarlet dragon at it's entrance, obviously the mobile home of the army's leader, although it did not look any grander than it's neighboring tents.
Markanis Flamewind was the commander of this army, the Scarlet Dragon Legion, of which he inherited from his older brother. Markanis never was one to accept gift of any sort, even as a child, which made his acceptance of taking command of the Legion all the more stranger after his older brother was killed defending Silvermoon.
However, some wise men have said that there is a difference between gifts, and fate.
Sylvos Windrunner, brother of Sylvanas Windrunner, who now led the forces of the Windrunner House, was debating with Markanis on what their next course of action should be.
"We have won a battle here Markanis, of that there is no doubt, but our food supply have become so few that even the beasts refuse to eat it from our stocks. Our men are resorting to digging through horse dung in hopes of finding some undigested corn." Markanis turned from the battle map of the surrounding region mounted on his tent wall to face his fellow commander. The two elves decided long ago, when Grand Marshall Garithos still led the survivors of the shattered kingdoms, to not follow Prince Kael'Thas in his allegiance with the Naga. Instead, they combined their forces into one, and would rule them both together.
When word reached them that Garithos was to march with Sylvanas' forces to reclaim Lordareon, there was much debate between the two Blood Mages on their next course of action. Sylvos wanted to march to Lordareon, out of nothing but family ties. But Markanis knew that Sylvanas was not the same person she was in life, and would betray Garithos. They debated for two days, with little rest, but in the end Sylvos sided with Markanis.
That was the two Elves' greatest test in their own personal allegiance, but now their army of a thousand Blood Elves faced a grand test of it's own, that of physical nature. Their food supply was cut off from the east by a new clan of orcs that they had confronted, and barely defeated, a month before. The Saberscream Clan was led by an Agram Saberscream, who fought in all three wars and matched the tactical brilliance of Blackhand and Doomhammer.
This problem would have been solved by Dalaran, for much of it had been restored thanks two powerful guild known as the Shards of the Crown and the Defenders of Dalaran, and had more than enough food to sustain the Blood Elven army. However, Dalaran refused them entry, believing they used Demom magic, partially of which is true. The Spellbreakers among their ranks did indeed drink from the corrupted Sunwell, which was filled with demon magic by lesser demon lords after Arthas and Kel'thuzad left Silvermoon's scared gates, to power their counterspell abilities.
What added even more possible disaster to the situation was that the Forsaken may have very well felt their magic, and their armies from the east may very well be on their way.
"We need to abandon this campaign, Markanis. Our men will not survive another battle against the guardians of your prize, nevertheless the Forsaken."
"Can we abandon it, brother Sylvos? It is tearing us apart, more than our lack of food that you so seem to dread. If we retreat, we will get our food, I do not doubt that. But we won't get what we need most."
Sylvos gave a long sigh, closing his eyes tightly as if every breath took a year off his life. And this argument may very well be doing just that. "He won't come back, Markanis, no matter how much you and I would wish it. He abandoned us long ago."
"But those that serve him might come to us."
Sylvos rubbed his forehead, revealing that he did not wish to continue this argument any longer, wishing to finish it quickly. "There are as loyal to him as our warriors to you!" He put his hands on Markanis' sleek shoulders. "Markanis, you have led your men through places no man, elf or dwarf would dare. Troll infested forests, Strangle Thorn Vale where if either Alliance or Horde learned of our presence we would be dead now. And despite the impossible odds, under our…your leadership, and tactical brilliance and mastership of using the landscape against them, our few thousand defeated a Scourge one of three thousand. Don't take advantage of their love for you Markanis. I plea with every drip of blood in my heart, don't."
"If I don't go, it will be a bigger sin towards my brothers than if I did. It's dangerous, yes. But we may get what we have dreamt for so long." Defeated, Sylvos raised his arms and walked for the entrance of the tent, but before he left, Markanis put his arm on Sylvos' right shoulder. "Will you follow me, Sylvos? I don't need a brother now. I need a soldier, a fellow dreamer."
"To whatever end?"
"To whatever end."
"Markanis, I promised you I would long ago. Why ask this now?"
"Because I must know, Sylvos. I cannot lead this vast army alone."
"To whatever end, Markanis. To even the Nine Hells, I will follow you."