It took many a month for the Masterpilla to be renovated. There was more dust than the entire population of ants in Azeroth. Nathan would joke "everywhere you go Anita things get renovated." Ever since the girl could remember, there was none more excitement than this throughout the whole of Stormwind, perhaps even the Seven Kingdoms. People were tired, tired of sleeping, tired of struggling, tired of finding food, and tired of death. Sleep was hard, not because of fear, but of not waking up and fear of the strange dream. That was the start of the disease. The dream every victim seemed to have. Then the dreams became illusions, then whispers, then it all ended. But one thing was the same, they all ended with the victim killing themself in some fanatical way. Soon it became clear among every living thing, "this is the work of The Jailure, to bring him more souls." The people thought in unison "this demon had to be stopped…somehow."

But first a banquet. All the leaders of The Seven Kingdoms had to be on the same page, at least in honor. Then a decision could be made to relieve the world of this fiend, and restore a proper after-life. But there was another problem, a more massive problem, this one was discovered during The Big Five's discussion:

"You have to include them in the banquet, Greymane." Jaina pleaded.

"This would have never happened if it wasn't for their witch of a leader!" He became more hairy and broke the white wooden chair; newly crafted in Stormwind Keep just for him.

"Jaina is right, Sylvanas is dead no less, by your hand. Not once did you give me the honor," responded the black-eyed night-warrior Tyrande. He had forgotten this, but his pride quickly threw his guilt aside.

"I will not attend if one of those greenskins show up on human ground." Jaina surprisingly laughed in a mocking way. "Oh you will attend Lord Greymane, but it's not me who will force you too." Before he could reply to the confusing statement-Velen butted in "they are not the same people Greymane, the Forsaken have also fallen asleep. I have not seen one dead-man walk since the plague started."

"You scare me prophet, have you also turned?" His gray eyebrows frowned at both of the fools.

Velen shook his head and spoke a sentence the old-dog would never forget "then best figure out a way to tell Anita." Greymane again dived his head into his hands. He was never thankful for how large his hands were, always ready to cover his faults. "Don't you dare mention her," he finally said while peaking between his fingers.

"I asked my druids and my husband, we found nothing on the letter." Velen did not buy the lie, but the mortals Jaina and Greymane did. "That is strange. There are people in Azeroth older than both you and me," responded Malfurion while tapping his fingers on the freshly cleaned marble table.

"Please, you are making me feel young." All chuckled at Genn's commit except for Jaina.

"Then who will represent The Seven Kingdoms?" she asked.

"Allow me your grace." Quickly the five of them turned their heads towards the corner of the large grand war room. The tall elf in red suggestive leather leaned against the freshly painted wall while filing her longest green nails. "I can be very persuasive, and I am used to being the mediary between the two bickering factions."

"You are your own side Valeera, but you must pick a good senator with a strong voice. I am fond of the Taurens even after all these years." Said Tyrande while slying a way to get rid of this traitor of an elf. Lady Sanguinare heard but her continuous filing said otherwise.

"Then it is settled, I will ask the dwarves and gnomes for attendance." Continued Velen while intensely looking at Greymane. "I hope the girl is ready, and all the singers that will attend."

"Don't question my skills Prophet."