8 – The Chill Fog

On the eastern border between Hillsbrad Foothills and Hinterlands amid the pine forests, a group of rogues lay concealed amongst the underbrush. Their mission: only to gather intel. This was a relief for some still slightly hung-over individuals in the group.

The exercise had been unexpected, truth be told, but a messenger had delivered a missive bearing the Royal Crest in the early hours of the morning. Sa'themar, forever one to accept a challenge, had gathered twelve of his most reliable colleagues on receiving this particular assignment.

The band of rogues were the espionage needed to further assess the situation. Scouts had returned to the city with news of a decimation to allied forces. There was something else amiss, however, and the King wished it routed out. Therein lay the need for Sa'themar and his specialists' intervention.

They sat around in a close group, their voices low, planning their next move. Sa'themar firstly brought them up to speed.

"While we were busy celebrating last night..." his voice held a hint of reproach aimed as much at himself as others "...heads of state continued forming strategies to quash the approaching Horde."

The rogues glanced amongst themselves, the opprobrium growing on hearing their Guild Master's tone.

Sa'themar studied the faces before him. They were decent, good people who had strived hard for years helping him build the foundations for the Crimson Blade. It was unfair to issue guilt upon them for having enjoyed one night of merriment and gaiety; the reward for their efforts. Instantly he regretted his accusing connotation.

He lowered his head, long platinum tresses just skiffing the moss and ferns beneath his crouched figure. He sighed heavily and apologised for such an unjust allegation. Murmurs of acceptance swept through the group; they understood how he felt.

Lifting his eyes to the group once more he continued. "As we now know, the dwarves of Khaz Modan were ready for the Horde invasion and collapsed the mountain tunnels hoping to stop them from progressing south. But it did not work in its entirety. The invaders reached the Wetlands and built ships to continue their advance on Lordaeron, coming at us from the Great Sea."

More murmurs rippled through the group. Brett then spoke. "There is some encouragement, however. Their fleet was intercepted by Alliance ships under the command of Admiral Daelin Proudmoore. Large numbers of Horde ships sank taking countless orc soldiers to their watery graves..."

"Aye, but the Horde still held an ace."

All heads turned as a hooded figure approached. Sa'themar was stunned to see the night elf Commander. "Jarod! I thought you were heading back to Kalimdor."

The night elf halted and lowered his hood. The silver eyes quickly scanned the gathered rogues but he answered Sa'themar directly. "I am. However, when I heard tell that you were heading out here, I thought I would accompany you. It is, after all, en route to Menethil Harbour from where I will find passage to Kalimdor."

Some of the rogues did not miss that their leader flinched a little when Jarod said he had heard about their destination. Sa'themar did not take kindly to outsiders hearing of their covert operations, regardless of who they were. The guild leader rose and stepped in front of the ageing night elf. "Walk with me please, Commander," he said.

Jarod Shadowsong wore an enigmatic smile as he turned and moved away from the troupe with Sa'themar. The forest was dense and they could afford to stroll a little from the main group without their presence being betrayed.

Sa'themar considered his words carefully. "Our conversation last night was somewhat of a dance, Commander..." If he expected a response, he was very much mistaken for the night elf remained silent; he merely grunted, the corners of his mouth curving into a smile again.

The Guild Master continued. "I had heard rumours for long enough that you had been sighted occasionally in Kalimdor, but your presence here, and no less at my guild gives rise to many more questions."

"Hmm," Jarod offered finally, his lips twitching at the corners. "And what questions do you wish to ask me?"

It was Sa'themar's turn to grin. He had tried to engage in conversation with the night elf the previous night but had been expertly thwarted by him from probing too deeply into the man's psyche. He did, however, glean the distinct impression that he was a most modest man and one with whom the title of Commander sat awkwardly upon his large shoulders. "You must know what people will ask when they see you, for your past achievements and, forgive me for saying, but some of your controversial decisions have left many minds wondering about the legendary Commander Shadowsong."

The soft lilting tone of night elf laughter sounded deep in Jarod's chest. He drew to a halt and faced the Guild Master. He regarded him for a moment before speaking. "To begin with, Sa'themar, I am not legendary. I am a man who fought a war against one of the most powerful and destructive forces known to all. I merely did what I had to do." He resumed their stroll while he spoke some more. "It was others who decided I should lead, not I, and their decision cost them dearly. Many lives were lost."

"Many thousands more were saved, my family included," Sa'themar riposted. "There are always casualties in war, Jarod, that is the nature of it. Surely you do not feel guilt for something which is unavoidable?"

Jarod looked off into the distance, his jaw set firm. He swallowed before responding. "It was a truly harrowing and traumatic time Sa'themar. The world as we knew it then, was literally torn apart. In order for us to return that enemy from whence it came, we had to sacrifice many of our own and the earth ran red with their blood."

"You did not sacrifice anyone. They were soldiers, they knew the risks of war. Would you have rather the enemy had won? For the result then would have been complete annihilation."

Once more the night elf halted. He turned slightly and looked back at the assembly of rogues. He could sense the loyalty within the group; the undeniable faith they had in their leader. "One day, when you lose some of those good people to a cause, a mission or war, you will then know what it is I feel." His silver orbs seemed to flare as he turned his attention back to Sa'themar.

The Guild Master held his gaze for a few moments. A brief empathy passed between them before Jarod looked away.

"I removed myself from society, or what was left of it," he continued without prompting. "Even when you are driven to do what you consider the right thing at the time, the results can often leave you... disheartened, disillusioned. I saw no place for me amongst my people anymore. Time and their various skills would eventually afford some healing from the devastation, but it was not a world I wished to be part of, nor felt that I could contribute anything worthwhile. So I left and have spent countless eons in the wilds. So now tell me, Sa'themar, do you think that makes me legendary? Heroic?"

"You are asking the wrong man, Jarod. Who am I to determine what constitutes a legendary or heroic status? But this much I will say, you were instrumental in a great victory and many followed you, for your tactical mind and plan of forethought enabled us to survive and rebuild. You may not see yourself as a hero, but you must not under-estimate how influential you have been to our people, yes even those of us who were banished, and how inspiring you remain."

Jarod sighed heavily. He seemed embarrassed, almost uncomfortable by the Guild Master's words of praise. But when his eyes focused once more on Sa'themar, his voice had a dark edge. "And so you wish to know why I suddenly appeared at your table?"

Sa'themar felt the hairs at the nape of his neck bristle. He afforded a quick glance at his troupe. They tried to be subtle but their eyes were trained on the two elves as the conversation continued. "Indeed," he acknowledged. The air was filled with an ominous chill. Subconsciously, he rested his hands on the hilts of his daggers, his fingers flexing as he waited for Jarod's explanation.

"Some affiliations do not waiver through time, Sa'themar. "As part of the Kaldorei Resistance, I formed strong bonds with the Moonguard, the Sisterhood of Elune, Rooksguard and even the Dragonflights. I cannot explain how, but of late my chosen lifestyle has been invaded by some of those affiliations. They come to me in dreams or pass in front of my eyes in the form of some unusual or rare occurrence, but I know it is them; calling to me."

"To fight again? To lead perhaps?"

Jarod shook his head, hesitantly. "I will not lead again nor have I the desire to fight. Look at me Sa'themar! What was once a gift bestowed upon us by the dragon aspects was torn from us in the destruction of the Well of Eternity." He held out his hands as if to demonstrate, then gestured his face and overall being. "I am now old and tired. But, through these "visions" and "experiences" I sense that events occurring in the world now are being moulded from the once defeated force which has been biding its time for revenge."

"You cannot mean..." Sa'themar grew rigid.

"Yes. The Burning Legion. This war has undertones of their involvement. For all I have chosen to live apart from my people, it does not mean that I am oblivious to what effects them. As you yourself will be well aware, there are sources of power which we are inextricably tied to..." He noted the flicker of recognition in Sa'themar's eyes. "Yes, I know of the Sunwell and of Nordrassil, both borne from the waters of the Well of Eternity. And both sources capable of summoning the Legion."

Both men noted the whispering from the group crouched a few feet away. They had obviously overheard, not that Jarod had intended for them to be unaware of the situation. It would, in his opinion, after all, have an impact on all races on Azeroth.

Sa'themar gestured towards the rogues. "Will you enlighten us then?" he asked the night elf.

Jarod's silver whiskers twitched as he offered an acquiescent smile before joining the expectant band of rogues.

He furnished them with a little intel of his own, the source of which he did not embellish.

The Horde's Warchief, Orgrim Doomhammer, had exercised on the side of caution and seemed he was prepared for a potential costly depletion of his forces. He had effectively turned the tables on the Alliance' naval superiority by deploying an airborne attack. From the former Wildhammer fortress Grim Batol, he employed the indomitable Dragonmaw Clan and their newly acquired red dragonflight against the human armada. This had Admiral Proudmoore's fleet retreating unable to contend with the firepower of the dragons.

As a result, the Horde had continued advancing on Lordaeron, taking down a high number of Alliance soldiers in their wake. If they reached the city gates this would in effect cripple the newly formed forces heralded by the Council of Seven Nations.

Their march towards the Alterac Mountains was a precarious route to take but it provided a potentially clear path to Capital City. At least they had assumed it would. They had, in fact, met fierce resistance from Allied forces with the added presence of the Knights of the Silver Hand; paladins trained in the way of the Light and enabling the Alliance ranks to forge forward with renewed vigour.

"Then the Horde has been defeated?"

Jarod turned his eyes to the woman who spoke. Lina Firefury held his silvery gaze with a look of quiet determination and resilience. He smiled wanly. "Temporarily deterred, would be a more accurate definition, my Lady."

Lina fought a blush at being addressed in such a manner. "How so?" she inquired attempting to look unfazed.

Jarod took a deep breath. "They were not without a new weapon which I believe is influenced by the Burning Legion."

"What engine have they constructed now?" Another voice asked.

"It is worse than any engineering schematic can produce," Jarod replied, his voice dark. "Imagine if you will, a re-animated creature, stronger and fiercer than any normal warrior, astride a skeletal steed. This creature could wield a blade imbued with magic which would drain the very resolve and courage of its adversaries..."

All eyes stared at him, a mixture of denial, horror and disbelief swimming within them. "Then imagine as it strikes down its enemy, a chill fog roils over the fallen and from within the caliginous vapour, new re-animated creatures rise and take up arms against their own."

He paused, allowing them all time to gauge the truly horrific implications of such a "weapon". "They are called Death-Knights and are the creation of an orc warlock some of you may have heard of. Gul'dan."

Heads nodded in recognition of the name. It had been feared since the time the orcs first invaded Azeroth through the Dark Portal. Tales of his dark magic had reached the ears of many.

"Forgive me," a voice spoke. All heads turned to look at Brett. The human rogue's face instantly flushed.

"Yes?" Jarod asked.

Brett seemed to think twice about saying anything more and shook his head.

"Please, ask what you will." The Commander coaxed.

Sa'themar's countenance wore an uncharacteristic disquiet with which the troupe noticed he was struggling to keep at bay. He nodded to Brett nonetheless, knowing his second-hand man would not offend the reclusive Commander.

Brett cleared his throat. "I do not doubt what you tell us, Commander. I, however, like many am not as well versed in your history as some of my fellow elven colleagues are, but I have deduced your people are somewhat... conservative when it comes to being seen or indeed even heard of by others. I, therefore, ask, how is it you know so much?"

An uncanny silence followed Brett's question. While it may have been on their minds, no-one else would have asked. Their faith in their leader's acceptance of the mysterious Commander was proof enough that he was not one to be under scrutiny.

The quiet was broken by Jarod's soft laughter. Looking at Sa'themar he smiled. The Guild Master was once more relaxed by the night elf's genteel response. "It is a fair question," Jarod agreed and turned his attention back to Brett. "You are correct and very diplomatic in your assessment of us," the night elf continued to smile, his fangs showing every now and again. "It is true we are somewhat aloof, suspicious of people and that stems from the war many, many thousands of years ago. It also created a divide between our people, your own Guild Leader will attest to that." He glanced at Sa'themar, who nodded in agreement.

The Commander continued. "That is not to say, however, that we do have adventurers in our midst. Some of my people have never forgotten the horrors they faced and have always believed the time will come when we must face them again. Those individuals travel in secret all over Azeroth, keeping vigil. That in effect is how they found me.

"You have not seen, nor heard from them because that is how they want it. Many have adopted the druidic way of life and you may, on the odd occasion be within close proximity of one without even realising it. They are shape-shifters."

A ripple of awe spread around the group to which Jarod added. "I tell you this in confidence, however. It was only befitting to tell you as you had asked and I have already enjoyed an evening of good food and wine in your company."

Everyone agreed the information would not be divulged to anyone outwith the current company.

Jarod then turned his attention to Sa'themar and the Firefurys. His face bore a sorrow which immediately alerted the Guild Master that what was going to be uttered next would be something particularly personal to him and the high elves.

"The Alliance has for the time being, stalled the Horde's advance on Capital City. But, as such, they have turned their focus north. They now march on Quel'thalas."

Yathas was first to speak up. "If the orcs invade our homeland, I am certain the Amani Trolls will join them in their quest to eradicate the elven nation."

"Our sons! Yathas!" Lina's voice broke. Her husband placed a hand on her shoulder in a bid to soothe her angst.

Sa'themar nodded understanding as he studied his two comrades. She was one of his best and fiercest rogues, but when anyone or anything threatened her family, Lina Firefury would undoubtedly become the deadliest assassin he would ever know. And quite possibly reckless too.

Jarod suddenly stood to take his leave and Sa'themar rose with him. "Are you sure you will not return to do battle?" he enquired of the Night Elf.

The Commander smiled and moved away. Lifting his thumb and middle finger to his lips he emitted a brief but sharp whistle.

To their left, the sound of twigs breaking and the rustling of undergrowth drew closer and louder. From under some giant ferns two great yellow eyes framed in frost-white fur appeared. Jarod clucked his tongue and a frostsaber emerged from the foliage.

The beast was enormous, it's shoulders in line with that of the elves. It's luxurious coat was striped, fading into its snow white belly. On its back a leather saddle was fastened atop a decorative quarter sheet of purple, gold and azure design.

The huge paws padded towards the elves. Sa'themar could feel the beast's hot breath as it halted in front of them.

Jarod patted its head. The cat nudged his hand in response, a throaty purr conveying its pleasure at being with its master.

"I guess that is a 'No,' then?" The words fell aptly from the High Elf's lips.

Jarod gathered the reins of his mount and pulled himself up into the saddle. "You guess correctly, Sa'themar. Perhaps one day I will return fully, but that time is not deigned for me yet. For now, I will return to the wilds."

Sa'themar held out his hand. The Night Elf smiled warmly and shook with the Guild master. "It has been an honour," Sa'themar voiced.

"I may take of your hospitality again one day," Jarod replied with a grin. "It was most enjoyable."

"Thank you. You will always be welcome."

"Fare thee well, Sa'themar. I wish you all the best with your enterprise. The Alliance will tend to what is left of the Horde army in Hinterlands, so go see to your homeland. Be wary of that warlock though. Not only is he enemy to you, I suspect he will be traitor to the Horde also if the Burning Legion has him in its grasp."

He jerked the reins and the frostsaber turned. With a kick to its flanks, the beast carried the enigmatic Night Elf swiftly through the ground cover until they were visible no more.

The rogues awaited their leader's orders. He glanced around each one, gauging their readiness. Finally he looked at Brett.

The human rogue knew what the decision was. "Shall I send word back to headquarters?"

Sa'themar shook his head, his platinum mane rippling as he gathered it up and tied it securely with a leather thong. "No. This is still a surveillance exercise..."

"Not if that warlock is unleashing his necromantic army it isn't!" Lina objected. She locked eyes with her leader.

"Have you forgotten about the magical wards, Lina?" Sa'themar urged.

The blonde High Elf jutted out her chin and adopted a defensive stance. "No, I have not. But going by Commander Shadowsong's warning, this orc is a force which should not be under-estimated. He opened the Dark Portal after all at the cost of many innocents." Her husband grunted and she shot him a look.

"Lina," Yathas said softly. "If these Death Knights ride in our homeland we must exercise caution..."

"Our sons are..." Her eyes hardened, but Yathas intervened.

"Well protected!" he replied more forcefully than intended. Lina fell silent. Yathas continued a little more calmly. "Have you considered how much use we will be for them, however, if that chill fog claims us?"

Sa'themar stepped forward. "Yathas has a valid point Lina. Fear not. Our people have thwarted attacks on our lands before and they contend daily with the trolls. We are not without our own devices Lina."

The woman nodded her concession to Sa'themar. He acknowledged her apology then turned back to the main body of rogues.

Yathas caressed his wife's palm affectionately. She awarded him a meek smile.

"Do you wish me to advise Sauren, nevertheless?" Brett whispered to Sa'themar.

"Do you honestly think he will mind missing a couple of days training that much?" Sa'themar cocked an eyebrow.

Brett grinned. "No, probably not," he conceded.

Sa'themar signalled for them to ready to move out. Ensuring his weapons were secured in their scabbards, he looked once more to his right-hand man. "I'm sure he will get stuck into something to keep himself occupied."

Little did he know that his son lay prostrate on his bed, spent, with a huge grin on his face. He had been deflowered by two very experienced ladies of the court in a marathon of sexual discovery.

"You will definitely please many lovers, Sauren," Leola cooed as she had traced a long fingernail down over his chest.

"Do you really think so?" the boy asked breathlessly. His body still trembled in the aftermath of pleasure.

At that same moment, Maya's head rose from beneath the sheet. Her green eyes looked at him sleepily as her tongue traced a little residue from the corner of her lips. "Oh, yes," she agreed. "Many indeed!"