Well, here's the first chapter...not much action to start with, but it gets better. R&R please, I require reviews for sustenance. I'm like a review vampire or something.


Chapter 1: Early Intelligence

Naira awoke in a cold sweat, gasping. She looked around the room frantically, reaching for the dagger under her sheets. It wouldn't do much against a lich, or any of the figures in that room, but-

"Snrrrrkk…." "What in the name of-" "Snnnnrrrrkkkk…." It was at that point she realized that it was the dwarf in the next room snoring. The druidess put down her dagger. "Then…it was all just a dream…." But it had felt so real…she had seen the undead council planning… She laid back down and closed her eyes.

As if the scene had been painted onto the inside of her eyelids, Ner'Arthas stood upon the cliff, looking out upon his army. He looked to the great runeblade at his side. Below, a rhythmic sound repeated in perfect synchrony. It was the sound of marching. Dozens of men were marching, gathering. Hundreds. Thousands- she jerked her eyes open. "I've heard of recurring nightmares, but this is ridiculous…" Experimentally she closed her eyes again.

thud, thump, thud, thump, thud, thump, thud, thump She opened her eyes. It was as if the sound of the marching had been jerked from her ears with a disarming tool. Naira shook her head. Maybe it was stress. Or maybe she'd caught something. She'd been in Gnomeragen all afternoon, and cutting up creatures made of radiation with your own claws couldn't be healthy. She slid out of bed, pulling on her night robes. Maybe a hot drink would calm her down.

Naira stepped down the stairs, still going over the dream (if it had been a dream) in her mind. She couldn't get the image of the giant black-armored figure, clutching the gigantic cursed runeblade, out of her mind, couldn't get the sound of the unholy marching out of her ears…. "What kin I get ye, lassie?" Naira was snapped out of her musing by a thick dwarven accent. The innkeeper, a bald, tanned dwarf with a black beard and a rag clutched in one hand looked at her inquisitively. "Water, ale, I got some moonberry juice fresh from Stranglethorn if ye want." "I'll take a hot chocolate." Naira replied. The dwarf nodded and started rummaging under the counter.

Naira had had the human drink before, and found it to have an odd calming effect on her. She looked around the bar while she waited. It contained the usual dwarves and gnomes, drinking ale and swapping war stories, a pair of silent humans in a corner, an Ironforge Guard rifleman, a harassed-looking gnome attempting to tinker with a gadget while holding a wrench in one hand and a mug in the other (with little success), a male night elf sitting farther down the bar, muttering and fiddling with bottles of varying-colored liquid, and a bald gnome with a handlebar mustache and warlock's robes sitting with a bronze-haired dwarf devouring a plate of steak.

Motley crew, she thought. But what did she expect in an Ironforge inn? "'Ere ya go, lass." The dwarf slid a frothing mug of hot chocolate at her. She took it and said, "Add it to my bill." Naira drank deeply from the cup and felt some of the stress alleviate as the warm liquid settled into her stomach. She turned and leaned against the bar, sipping. "Hot chocolate, eh?" It was the male elf, who had abandoned his potions and moved to the stool next to Naira. "Bah, I'm not on a diet or anything. Barkeep! A hot chocolate for me, too." He turned. "Evening." Naira took another sip of chocolate. "Evening." She muttered. "What's got you up this late?" "Couldn't sleep." He replied. "I had a bad dream." "Makes two of us." She replied. He muttered something under his breath in Darnassian. She caught two words. It was enough to make her gag on her latest mouthful of chocolate.

"Are you alright?" She coughed one more time. "I'm fine. What was that about "Forgotten Ones?" "Oh, nothing," he said dismissively. "Just something from my nightmare. I saw a number of undead in Northrend planning something. Nonsense about a wyrm and Forgotten Ones." Naira looked at him in astonishment and said quickly, "A lich, a banshee, a necromancer, a demon, a great beetle-creature, and…" "A massive armored figure, speaking in a voice not quite of this world." The other elf's head snapped up to look at her. "How did you know that?" "I had the very same dream."

Naira was suddenly aware of eyes on her. She turned her head slightly to see the dwarf and gnome at the nearby table listening in. The dwarf saw them looking and sat back in his chair. The warlock waved a hand in a dismissive way. "Coincidence. A bug going around or something." Naira drained the last few drops of her hot chocolate and narrowed her eyes at the warlock. "I don't believe in coincidence."

Many consider druids to be pacifists. One dwarf was quoted referring to them as "Pointy-eared butterfly-huggers." This is untrue. Upon hearing that comment, a certain druid referred to that very same dwarf as a term that cannot be repeated in respectable company. In a day and age where nature is under siege by demons, greed, and industry, Druids are not the pacifist healers that jump to the minds of many when the term is mentioned. No, druids are warriors. And they do not go unprotected.

Naira pulled off her robes, dropping them on the bed. She pulled on a set of thick leather pants, followed by a heavy Westfall-made leather tunic. Next came a pair of thick, gnome-enchanted oilrags on her wrists. She slid on a pair of logistics-enhancing cloth mitts, and fastened on a pair of heavy leather spauldrons. She settled a silver, jewel-set circlet (also enchanted) between her pointed ears. "Decked out, as the humans would say…" she muttered. She tucked a leaf-blade dagger into her belt and strapped her long, emberstone-tipped staff onto her back. Lastly, she knotted her long, blue hair into a ponytail. Satisfied with her appearance, Naira headed down the stairs.

She had asked all around the inn and some of the surrounding shops, and the only people who had had odd dreams had been another druid, who was able to quote the undead council's conversation verbatim. It didn't take Naira longer than three seconds to put two and two together, and quickly decided to head to Moonglade. If it was only druids having these dreams, the reason would be there if it was anywhere. She settled herself in position, raised her hands, and began muttering words under her breath. Several seconds passed and a bright light obscured her vision.

When it cleared, she was no longer in the Ironforge tavern. She was in a dim village, surrounded by forested mountains. Moonglade, the ancestral holy place of the druids. Naira had always come here whenever she needed advice or just some peace and quiet.

She had not, however, expected a heated argument to be in progress. A huge assembly of night elf and tauren druids were gathered. Naira spotted Fandral Staghelm, Mathrengyl Bearwalker, the master druid from Darnassus, Dendrite Starblaze, the druid who presided over Moonglade, Loganaar and Kal, the druid trainers, and dozens of others. There were many tauren too, although the only one she recognized was Hamuul Runetotem, the Thunder Bluff Arch Druid.

Naira hurried down the hill to the gathering. An elf at the back spotted her and waved her over. "What the blazes is going on here- oh, don't tell me. Everyone's had the same dream about an undead council planning to destroy the planet, so there's a meeting." The other elf nodded. "Hit the nail on the head, as the dwarves say. Now quiet, Dendrite is speaking."

"I am telling you, this is a sign! Nature is trying to warn us! I have been telling you all for months that the Scourge are the real threat here!" Fandral Staghelm cut him off with a sharp gesture. "The Horde are all but on our doorsteps, Dendrite! Alterac is a bloodbath, we haven't had word from Arathi Basin in weeks, and if we have to send one more Sentinel to the Eastern Kingdoms the Outriders will be marching through the streets of Astranaar in a day! And now you want us to mobilize? On the word of a vision? You must be mad, Dendrite!"

Several druids raised their voices in anger at this, but they were all silenced by the rumbling voice of Hamuul Runetotem. He looked directly at Staghelm. Somehow, though he was only a third as old as any of the night elves, that gaze carried more wisdom and experience than any of them. "I do not think that this can be simply called a vision anymore, Fandral. Every druid on Azeroth has had it. I do not think this is merely a vision. It is a warning." Runetotem gestured forcefully at the glade around him. "Do you not all feel it? There is a gathering."

He paused. Naira closed her eyes and focused. She reached out to the trees. The hills. The earth under her feet. And felt it. The massive, living, presence… Nature. Normally it was serene, like a lake surface in the spring, with a great heartbeat and breath of its own … and yet mighty, avenging itself upon those who had wronged it, directing its warriors, the druids, against defilers…

But today…it was different. The presence was not even and gentle as it normally was. It was hardened, and strong, and….moving. "To the north…" Naira whispered, in unison with every individual present. They all felt it. "Nature is preparing for war, Fandral. You cannot deny it." Rumbled Runetotem. Mathrengyl Bearwalker spoke. "And as nature prepares, so must we." Staghelm was looking more and more harassed by the moment. Finally he seemed to compose himself. "And I suppose we are going to take on Arthas and his unending army of undead with, oh, a thousand druids?"

This seemed to bring Hamuul great amusement. He chuckled and said, "Of course not." His face then fell. "Tell me, Fandral-, no everyone. Think of each time Azeroth has been in danger. The Third War. The Burning Legion. The Undead Scourge. Even this war, now. Think of them, and tell me what they all have in common."

Naira, who read history books almost religiously, thought about it. After an entire minute of silence, she spoke up. "Each time, Azeroth has been in peril. And each time an alliance that was thought impossible was made." Runetotem nodded in approval. "What is your name, night elf?" "Naira Stormsong, Arch-druid Runetotem." "You are correct, Naira. As unfortunate as it may be, a new threat to Azeroth will convince the Horde and Alliance to cease their fighting. Many of them suffered in the Third War."

Loganaar nodded. "Even if the military does not listen to us, Jaina Proudmoore will. And the military will listen to her." A tauren at Runetotem's side spoke up. "Magatha may be an issue, Arch-druid. You know she'd oppose us if we came bearing Darkmaster Gandling's head." "True, Sheal," replied Runetotem. "But she will not oppose Thrall and Cairne, and I feel confident that they will trust us."

Dendrite stood. "Then we are decided?" He looked to Staghelm. "Unless, of course, our venerable Arch-druid has something to say." Staghelm looked as if there was a grouper thrashing about somewhere around his jugular. "Very…well. I'll arrange for messengers to be sent to Ironforge and Stormwind." Runetotem nodded. "I'll inform Orgrimmar and the Undercity." "Oh?" said Staghelm skeptically. "And how will you convince the Forsaken to assist in this? What has nature done for them?" "Ignoring that that remark was close to heresy, Fandral," growled Mathrengyl, "The Scourge are the Forsaken's mortal enemies. If an army is gathering to attack them, Sylvanas will be the first to join us." Staghelm nodded stiffly. Runetotem drew himself up to his (impressive) full height. "Then let us prepare. Ladies and gentlemen, the druids are going to war."