I hope you all enjoy this chapter. It took a long time to think of some parts. Also, I might make two of the new characters in this story part of the group. Let me know what you think.

-x-

"Can we rest for a moment?" asked Ellia for what seemed like the hundredth time. Ravenwrath groaned as he looked over at her. She wasn't in her wolf form nor was she running alongside his mount. Instead she had summoned her Celestial Steed from the Twisting Nether where it waited until it was call upon by its master. The mount resembled that of a winged horse made up of small 'star' that were connected by a thin white line and a bluish energy filled in the rest. As it moved it left a trail of the 'stars' which quickly faded.

"We are still in the Plaguelands," he replied with some annoyance as their mounts continue to walk. "We need to get to Tirisfal Glades as soon as possible. Once we are there we can go through Silverpine Forest and then into the Hillsbrad Foothills. From there we can enter Arathi Highlands and then cross into the Wetlands. From there it's a cake walk to Ironforge."

"That's stupid," replied Ellia bluntly. "If we turn around we can take the pass to the Alterac Mountains and get to Hillsbrad faster. Once there we can go to Southshore and rent a boat to take us to Menethil Harbor. It will save us time and we won't have to go through so much Horde territory and not get killed on site!"

"Which is why we are not going that way," replied Ravenwrath as he halted his mount. Ellia did the same and looked at Ravenwrath with confusion. "I will not deny your logic. It is sound and sensible. However, the Crusaders will most likely make that same conclusion seeing that we are not races of the Horde. They are most likely racing towards that direction while sending a smaller group towards Tirisfal Glades just in case. Also, I know for a fact that I'd be safer in any Horde controlled land than Alliance."

"And me?"

"Not so much." For that comment he received a glare which he ignored as his mount began to move again. Not that he cared much since he considered her an annoyance. She was extra luggage that made him wish that he had just left her behind. Since they had left all she had done was talk. And talk. And talk. He had so far learned about all of her pets since she was little, her parents who had been together for almost 400 years, her older sister who was a paladin, and what made her decide to become a shaman. As much as he wanted to ditch her, he knew that would be unwise since she knew where he was going. From what he had seen, if she was captured, they wouldn't be able to shut her up!

The wind blew against their back, bringing with it the scents of what was behind him. Using some of his druid magic, he enhanced his sense of smell and his eyes widened a bit. Behind them were sixteen horses and each carried a single rider. They were close and moving in fast. There was little chance that they could be eluded. Yet the number of the group was smaller than Ravenwrath thought it would be. He had thought that they would have sent at least twenty-five men towards Tirisfal Glades. Perhaps Volhammer didn't want to waste too many men or simply too many after the assault at the keep. Not that it mattered really.

"Fine," said Ravenwrath as he dismounted. "We'll stop for a moment."

Nodding, Ellia dismounted as well and then dismissed her mount. Ravenwrath simply tied his mount to a nearby tree and then moved to the center of the road. He then removed the mace from his back and held it with both hands, causing Ellia to wonder what was going on. Then, before she could ask, she heard the whining of horses. Looking down where they had come she saw the sixteen white horses of the Scarlet Crusade. Oddly, they stopped upon seeing them instead of charging down on them. Then one of them moved forward.

"I see you have accepted your fate Dar Ravenwrath," he yelled.

"You forgot my title Riverson," replied loudly Ravenwrath with a smirk.

"So I did," said Riverson with a chuckle. "Hear me know, we will show you mercy since you are a human and can still redeem yourself in the Light. Drop your weapons and we will take you into custody. However that blue devil you are with will have to die for its sins."

"Really?" said Ellia in a surprised tone. "I am still referred to as an 'it'. Some holy men they are. Can't even treat a woman with respect."

"A tempting offer Riverson," yelled Ravenwrath. "Especially that last part. However I must decline for I have other engagements that I simply must attend to. When I am done you may then have my head. But I do warn you, attack me now and you will not live long enough to regret it." At that, Ellia gave him a curious look, but said nothing.

Riverson paused for a moment and then shook his head. As far as he was concerned, Ravenwrath and the escaped prisoner were alone. Even if he was a druid, that would not help him here for the plagued land made growing things difficult and corrupted. On the other hand, he and his men outnumbered him greatly and were on horseback. With superior speed and numbers made it more likely that they would be able to reach a spell caster and slay him before he could use his spells. Not to mention that they were blessed by the Light! They had all the advantages.

Ravenwrath watched as Riverson yelled the command to charge. As they moved towards him he lifted the Titan's Fist d then pounded it into the ground the same way a man pounds a stake into the ground. When it hit the ground the green glow from the mouth of the mace shot across the ground the same way a ripple moves in the water. And as it moved, all the land seemed to return back to normal. The grass went from an ugly brown to a fresh green instantly. The trees began to grow fresh leaves and in some cases fresh fruit as well. Even the diseases wildlife was affected as animals regained their fur. And it kept on going as it past Riverson and his men, changing the playing field completely.

Ravenwrath called out to the grass and asked for its help. It responded by instantly becoming straight, razor shape, and harder than nails. As the horses ran over this, they began to nay in pain until the stopped and, in some cases, fall over. Seeing that their horses would not move on, many of the more foolish Crusaders abandoned their mounts. And, as the soldiers of the Scarlet Crusade soon realized, not even their armor could protect them from this grass from hell. It cut right through their armor and into their feet. Their blood quickly began to soak into the ground and ever quicker as several of them fell down in pain right to their doom.

Now there was only a handful left still on their whimpering mounts. Ellia raised her purple, crystal like sword and pointed at a mage whose was casting a spell. Whatever he was going to cast took too long to cast as lightning shot from Ellia's sword, striking the mage and then bouncing off several others. Now there was only one left alive, Riverson.

"Monster!" he screamed as he kicked his mount. But instead on moving forward, the horse jumped and threw him off his saddle and onto the deadly grass face first. Ravenwrath thanked the grass and allowed it to return to normal.

"That weapon," said Ellia as Ravenwrath walked over to his mount. "How did it fix the Plagueland? A holy weapon of some kind?"

"No," replied Ravenwrath as he got on his mount. "Titan's Fist is a weapon of nature that returns things to their natural order." Ellia looked confused as she summoned her own mount, so he continued. "Let's look at the Ashbringer and Frostmourne. The Frostmourne is a weapon that takes things out of the natural order by draining their souls and resurrecting corpses. And in many ways, the Ashbringers holy powers are similar to that of the Titan's Fist, but it cannot revive the dead. Had this land been truly dead, and not diseases by the plague, then it simply turned to dirt."

Ellia blinked.

"I'm confused."

Ravenwrath sighed.

-x-

Deatholme. A place of death within what is now called the Ghostlands. Before Arthas came, the Ghostlands had been a part of Eversong Woods. Yet now it was a place of undeath, tainted by the Scourge. The fortress itself marked the beginning for the Dead Scar, the path which Arthas took in his assault on Silvermoon. Behind it's dark gates held horrors like Nerubians and Banshee's. From this single place, Dar'Khan the traitor, oversees all Scourge activity for his master within the Temple of the Damned.

Dar'Khan, traitor to the Blood Elves and High Elves. If it were not for him then things might have been different. It had been he who had given Arthas the information that he needed to invade their lands and reach the Sunwell. He did it believing that he could gain more power, but instead was killed by Arthas after he had gotten what he wanted. Even so, Arthas still had use for him. Arthas raised him from the dead and made him into something that was and yet wasn't alive. His first mission was to find the essence of the Sunwell that had escaped him and, after failing that, stand watch over this land.

Yet things were not going well for Dar'Khan right now. Deatholme was under attack! In the past there had been many foolish heroes who tried to prove themselves by attacking, yet this was not one or two but hundreds of Blood Elves and Forsaken attacking together. Dar'Khan tried to call for reinforcements, yet there were none too be found! The Nerubians that had taken over Suncrown Village had been destroyed by 'living' Nerubians. Mages of both Forsaken and Blood Elf were using powerful fire spells to destroy everything in the dead scar so that not even bone remained. Coldmist and Windrunner Villages had also been wiped out and there was a report that stated that Sylvanas Windrunner was seen single handedly retaking Windrunner Spire.

There was nowhere left to run. Nowhere left to go. He was trapped in his own temple. Dar'Khan knew that his master would not save him again, and if he did it would not be like the other times. No, Arthas would only bring him back to life so that he could torture him for his failings thus far. Suddenly he was hit in the arm by an arrow. He turned around to face the entrance to his private chambers only to be struck by three more arrows in his other arm and both legs. Dar'Khan fell to the ground and gazed up in fear of his attacker: Sylvanas Windrunner!

At one time, Sylvanas was the picture of beauty and grace in battle. Her skin could have been compared to a peach and her blond hair the color of sunshine with ocean blue eyes. Out of her three sisters, she was the middle yet she had earned the position of Ranger-General. She was skilled and truly cunning in battle. It could also be said that no one else had ever caused Arthas more grief and had been more difficult to defeat than her. Had she lived, perhaps things would have gone differently. But she had been defeated by Arthas and, as punishment for the trouble she had caused him; he turned her into a Banshee and one of his generals. Yet, he had made one mistake in her creation. That tiny flaw was that he had left her mind as her own. And once she had her chance, Sylvanas retook her body and tried to take out Arthas once more.

And now she stood over Dar'Khan in her undead body. Her skin was a pale white and her hair had turned as black as the abyss. Her eyes were bright red, burning with a never ending anger. She wore form fitting leather that showed off a lot of her undead beauty. If anyone could make being undead look good, it was her.

"S-Sylvanas," stammered Dar'Khan. "I…"

"I have no time for your pathetic attempts to save your life," declared Sylvanas. "I have come here to offer you a deal which is more than filth like you deserves. Tell me what I want to know and I will grant you a quick death. Refuse and I will ensure that your torment lasts until the end of time. Either way, you will pay for your crimes and I will have my locket back."

"The locket?" said Dar'Khan as he looked over at a shelf. There it was, laying there, collecting dust like a trophy. He had found it one day when he went to Windrunner Spire. It was just lying there in Sylvanas's old room. Yet, it was not Elven made. Judging by the crude design and its copper structure, it had to have been made by some human for a cheap price. Yet, there was an enchantment on it that kept him from opening it.

Sylvanas followed his gaze and saw her locket. She quickly rushed over to it, picked it up, and then opened it. Inside was something no one would have ever suspected, a piece of her child's umbilical cord. As Sylvanas stared at it her expression began to change. At first it was her usual cold expression, but then it began to soften to the point of tears. Then, with a cry of rage, Sylvanas turned around and sent one last arrow aimed at the forehead of Dar'Khan.

"Is it done?" came a voice from the entrance. Sylvanas turned and saw a blond haired Blood Elf standing there.

"It is Lor'themar Theron," said the Queen of the Forsaken to the Regent Lord of Quel'Thalas.

"Then let us begin to tear down this vile place," said Theron with a look of glee.

"All but this place," said Sylvanas as she walked out of the room with Theron in tow. They walked through the stone halls of the temple, slowly making their way outside where their forces were waiting. "We shall rename this building the Temple of Vengeance. From here we will train our new hero class: the Dark Ranger! The Banshee's here are now free and willing to follow me as they did in life." They both stepped out of the temple and looked upwards. Above there were thousands of Banshee's circling above them in the sky. "But sadly their bodies are gone and will need new empty vessels to inhabit." Theron nodded.

"I will ask the families of those who have fallen in battle," he said. "As long as it helps in the fight against the butcher Arthas, I foresee little problem from my people. No, the real problem will be that fool Garrosh."

"Agreed," said the Banshee Queen with a sigh. "He is reckless and arrogant. But he has been gaining more support in the Horde of late and has openly damned my people for what happened at the Wrathgate. Warchief Thrall knows that the Burning Legion was the root of the problem…but still." She turned to face Theron. "There may come a time when the Forsaken must leave the Horde. Unless I can win favor wing the new Gorehowl class air ships and naval fleet, I fear the Horde might turn on us."

"Regardless of how much favor you gain, Garrosh will still try to turn on you. But know that the Blood Elves will fight by your sides should that day ever come," said Theron as he placed his fist over his heart.

Sylvanas nodded at him and went over to her new mount, a Black Qiraji Battle Tank. This giant black insect had been a gift the cockroach vender Jeremiah Payson who was working to make them the new mounts of the Forsaken. They were just as fast as their usual skeletal mounts, but these were specially trained so that they could walk up cliffs with their rider. The only problem was that they had to be caught and lately, that had become a problem. No matter, thought Sylvanas as she made her way to the closest bat handler. I might be able to do something at the tomorrow at the Horde meeting.

-x-

The town of Brill sat there in a decaying fashion in land of Tirisfal Glades as did all building that belonged to the Forsaken. This town, set next to the zeppelin, was a busy port for those who needed to travel to Kalimdor or Northrend. The busiest place of all was the Gallows' End Tavern. There, those who were waiting on the zeppelin or had just arrived in the area. There they ate, drank, and told stories of their travels to anyone who would listen. It was the building with the most 'life' in it.

But, as noisy as it was, it suddenly became silent as two newcomers entered the building. A human and a Draenei!

"What are you doing here?" demanded a Forsaken mage as he pointed a boned finger at the pair.

"I told you this was a bad idea," whispered Ellia. "But did you listen, no."

"I have not come here to fight against those I side with," said Ravenwrath as he continued to ignore Ellia. He then pulled out a badge made of leather and held it up so at all could see. On it was the symbol of the Mag'har. "I am here for a meal and a nights rest."

"So you claim to be exulted by the Mag'har," said an elderly Orc in the back. His white hair was braided and had several scars on his face. He wore spiked plate armor and carried with him two large axes. "Prove it!" Ravenwrath sighed, completely expecting this to happen. He walked over to the Orc and sat down next to him. As he did, the Orc ordered two drinks. When they arrived, he gave one to the human and kept one for himself. He then glared at the human. "You first."

With that, Ravenwrath took hold of his stein and began to sing in perfect Orcish.

Oh, back in the days of my grandfather's grandfather

Two brothers they did sit

In front of a great fire after a long good hunt

There an argument was spun

They couldn't decide which was better the mate or the hunt!

Oh, what could be better said the younger

A fine mate by your side

She'll be waiting when you return and cook for you a fine meal

Nothing could be better

Ravenwrath then drank all of his ale in one gulp and then, instead on putting it on the table, he smashed it on the elder Orc's face. Ellia gasped and the other Horde races cheered. Some were even clapping to the beat of the song as the elder Orc began to sing.

But the older and wiser Orc did not agree

The hunt was so much better

The mate is always the same at the end of the day

But each hunt is so different

So many surprises around each corner

Why keep they mate when she's such a bore?

Now this time he drank and then smashed his own stein into Ravenwrath's face. Two new steins were placed before them and then Ravenwrath continued in song.

Oh what an old fool was he

True that the hunt is always new and fresh

It can't compare to the mates warm and loving touch

And while you sleep under the stars

She warms me with her flesh!

A lot of cheers came from the audience now as Ravenwrath slammed his stein into the Orc's face harder than ever. On and on the two continued to sing in Orcish until, at long last, a winner was decided. It took twelve verses, but the old Orc couldn't get up in time to sing his part of the song. The crowd cheered as they threw bits of meat at both of them. Slowly, the elder Orc raised his head and grinned.

"Not bad for a pink skin," he grunted. Ravenwrath smirked as Ellia ran over to them.

"What was that savageness?" she demanded.

"Just a traditional Orc drinking game," said Ravenwrath to at startled Draenei in a deadpanned voice. "Back in the old days of the Horde, during the Kosh'harg festival, Orcs from all the clans would meet by their sacred mountain. This drinking song is about how the mating hunt began."

"You may not understand it Draenei," said the elder Orc as he sat up straight. "But to us Orcs, this is something that is held close to our hearts as a sign of respect. For you see, the brothers were ready to tear each other to pieces over this argument until the spirits spoke to them. They said to hunt with the one you wish to be your mate and thus a proud tradition was born. This song it to honor those two and remember how we meet our loved ones for the first time in the hunt."

"And the Alliance would never understand," said Ravenwrath as he stepped up onto the table. "They close their eyes to anything that is different. They lock up people like us and call us monsters! They call the Blood Elves traitors, but they are the ones who abandoned them when the Scourge attacked Silvermoon!" All the Blood Elves yelled in agreement. "The Forsaken never wished to be what they are, but the Alliance does not care. Where is the love and compassion that they calm to have with the Light when it come to them!" Now the Forsaken raised their glasses and growled. "I have been a prisoner of the Night Elves and I can imagine what it must have been like for the Orcs! To have your freedom denied to you, to be treated like you were less than an animal." Several Orcs fought back tears as they remembered those days and lifted their steins. Ravenwrath would have continued but someone else spoke from outside.

"Pitiful Horde, your time has come," declared a loud voice. Everyone in the tavern grabbed their weapons and helms and raced outside to see who was attacking. When they got out they saw…nothing?

"Ha ha, you fools," came the voice again. "No one can stop me for I am the greatest of the warlocks!" Everyone now turned and looked up on the roof of the tavern and saw a gnome. He was dressed in a puke green robe lined with gold and carried with him a glowing dagger. Both his hair and his curled mustache were dark black. "Bow down before the might of the great Pookie Wigglebolt!"

Silence greeted the gnome at first. Then, someone in the group began to laugh. Then another and another. Soon they were all laughing and pointing at the warlock. The gnome began to hop up and down, demanding that they be silent, but was hit by a fish and knocked off the roof. This only caused more laughter.

Slowly the laughter died and everyone began to enter the tavern. Ravenwrath took his seat and a meal of hot meat and bread was set before him. The elder Orc sat next to him.

"I have failed in my manners," he said. "My name is Ravgash of the Bleeding Hallow clan. Son of Hecgal."

"And I am Lord Dar Ravenwrath," replied the human. Ravgash looked at him for a moment and let out a barking laugh.

"So you are the one we should thank for getting rid of those Scarlet fools," he said. "The Alliance is buzzing like flies over that. A great battle it must have been."

"Surely a great warrior like you have been in many more," said Ravenwrath with a grin. "This young one would benefit from your timeless wisdom." At the, Ravgash grew solemn.

"This old ones time for battle has ended young one," he said quietly. "I have been fighting for the Horde since we first set foot on this world. I have seen our leaders come and go. I have fought human and demon alike, yet I am cursed with living. I fear I might die of simple old age."

"And what's wrong with that?" asked Ellia.

"Everything!" yelled Ravgash as he slammed his fist onto the table. "I am an Orc warrior and there is no greater death than to die in battle. And I have longer to one last battle like the one my best friend Brox had. To die in battle and with a noble cause, such would be a dream of mine." For a moment he had a dreamy look in his eyes but that faded quickly as he sighed. "But no one needs this old veteran anymore. Perhaps something will happen at the Feast that will call forth someone like me."

"Excuse me the what?" asked Ellia.

"The Feast of Alodi," grunted the Orc. "It's some fancy dinner for both the Horde and Alliance that is being help in Ironforge. It's open invitation so anyone can go."

"Is that so," said Ravenwrath as his eyes picked up on a female Blood Elf who was staring at him. She smiled shyly and then gestured to the stairs. Taking the hint, Ravenwrath stood and began to make his way over. "Looks like my blood quest has become a little easier."