The Long Road Home

[Maikull]

Another day, another medial task. Perhaps his Nathrezim superiors would task him to charge Fel-Crystals to power siege weapons for an entire battalion. Or maybe he would be made to bear maintaining an invasion portal for a far off world on his own. The Eredar over him loved to volunteer him for overbearing work and cherished it more when he failed, only to find new and inventive ways to torture and punish him. How far he had come from the whimsical plaything from a far off world.

However as Thrathreon arrived to the common area where the rest of the adepts gathered for their assignments, he was met with a hushed whisper. He had quirked his head in bemusement, but before he could speak a word for clarification, the Doomguard Quartermaster snapped “Shut up elf! Our Lord speaks!”



A projection of Kil'Jaeden appeared overhead everyone of the room as the Man'ari stood atop his command ship. The room fel silent as the Deceviver's words echoed without fault through the halls.

“The Day I Took The Felfire Into My Veins, I Saw My Destiny”
“A Grand Crusade That Would Reach The Ends Of Creation!”
“I Paid For That Destiny With My World!”
“The Time Has Come To See Its Done”

The projection of a magical floating city appears in place of the supreme commander, as more prejections of Invasion Ships begin to appear surrounding the city, followed by the Legionlord's final command.

“Burn It...To Ash!”

“Dalaran...?” Thrathreon breathed. The shock of seeing his home again had made the elf betray himself. For years he had played along with the design of the burning legion, but only out of a sense of self preservation. He had come to terms with the belief that the second invasion was a success and that his home had been destroyed, along with Prince Kael'thas and the other Sin'Dorei who crossed into Outland with him.

But that was Dalaran, it looked different from what he remembered, and it was flying, but he would recognized the city of his long lost dreams anywhere. Thrathreon hadn't even noticed the entire room was now staring at him, a cynical grin was on the Quartermaster's face. “That's right...that's the world you were plucked from wasn't it? Ready to watch it burn, Elf?”

Options, Possibilities, Scenarios were racing through his mind, he barely registered the Doomguard approaching him cracking his whip. “I ASKED YOU A QUEST---” the Demon had bellowed as it began to raise its whip to the elf, but it stopped mid sentence, almost freezing on the spot. Ethereal chains began to wrap around the Doomguards throat, waste, wrists and legs. It looked on in horror as the power poured from the hands of the small elf at his feet, seeping into its very brain.

“Never...Again...” Thrathreon snarled. The doors to the common room slammed shut, sealing the elf, demon, and other supplicants inside. Screams could be heard from within, thankfully they were not uncommon to raise alarm...

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

There was a small pop as a Fel Imp materialized in the common room. “You called Mas---” Pippik began before taking in the scene of the room. Bodies were strewn all around, blood and scorch marks plastered the walls. The Doomguard that once berated Thrathreon lay in pieces at the Warlocks feet. “Looks like I missed one hell of an orgy...damn.”

Thrathreon had hidden his true talents from his Legion Overseers. As where they discovered his affinity for magic, and did their best to abuse his power for all it was worth, he masqueraded his demonic abilities he had acquired to be his final trump card should ever he be found in the cross-fire of a power play that was all too frequent. In truth that was the only reason he was able to survive his spur-of-the-moment coup, enslaving the Quartermaster and turning it on the room, and even that proved an uphill battle he almost did not return from.

It was rare he ever summon his minions, and when he did he was sure to do so in complete privacy, even going so far as murdering the unsuspecting witness a time or two to protect his secret. But with what he was now put in motion, Thrathreon knew he could not do this alone and succeed. The bruises from his recent battle were apparent, and Pippik rushed to grab his master a chair to settle himself in. “Finally snap eh boss?”

“Were leaving.” Thrathreon replied. “OH! Vacation!? Can we go to that fiery lava world you told us about?!” Pippik squeaked in excitement, bouncing about on the spot. “No...were going there” the warlock pointed towards the projection of Dalaran. “My Home.” Pippik looked at the image “Looks kinda small boss, but tha' fel am I complaining about!?”

“I'm going to gather my strength, go ahead and find me a portal to one of those ships bound for Azeroth.” The imp looked on intently and nodded at the orders “And what if I run across more of...well them?” he pipped jabbing a thumb at the bodies in the room. Thrathreon stood, surging the power within him coating him in a deep fel green aura, the power physically manifesting behind him as floating shards of power. “I'm getting off this planet once and for all, anyone or anything that stands in my way will submit or perish.”

Pippik sneered at the malevolent nature emerging within his master “That's why I love you buddy!”
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-


The two emerged from a portal onto the operation deck of an invasion ship. The landing appeared clear for the moment, but various demon and eredar occupied the floor. Thrathreon took the first opportunity and dove behind a stack of crates to prevent being noticed. Without missing a beat, the small imp tore off to investigate. Hoping himself concealed, the warlock summoned a spherical eye in his hands and bound his vision to it, sending it away after the imp.

Pippik bounced around corners and zipped through the halls humming an action tune all the while. Given there were many Fel-Imps on the ship Pippik blended in, however his brandish additude was starting to draw attention. Thrathreon could only watch in ire as his magical construct struggled to keep up with the imp. It wasnt long before the entire ship began to shake. Falling debris had knocked over one of the crates the Warlock was hiding behind breaking his concentration and shattering his magical eye. “Gods damn it!” he cursed as he re-positioned himself. Mighty roars could be heard outside as smaller trimmers vibrated at his feet. 'The fel is going on out there?!' he wondered, hoping Pippik would hurry the hell up already and report back.

It took a few minutes but the Imp finally returned to his master, darting behind him as if he was being followed. “Ok boss, I got good news and bad news” he chimed. “Speak!” Thrathreon barked, quickly losing patience with the small demon, now was NOT the time for his malignant behavior. “Well the good news is, we ARE in fact in Azeroth!” the Imp declared with a smile and a thumbs up. The elf took a small sigh of relief “Good, whats the bad news?!” “Dragons are attacking the ship, and were going to die any minute now!” Thrathreon's eyes scowled at the imp, “You ported us on a ship being attacked by DRAGONS!?” “WHAT!? You said get us on one of them ships, you didn't say check it for dragon attacks first!” the imp argued, but still withdrawing fearing its master was going to punt him across the room.

Truth be told, the thought did cross the warlocks mind, but he had more pressing issues. He figured his escape wouldn't be easy, so no sense in mulling over every issue. “Ok...now we have to get off this ship” Thrathreon stated, standing up from behind his cover and launching a Chaos Bolt at a passing sentry, taking it by surprise and reducing it to ash. Another sentry rounded the corner, and Pippik emerged too from their cover to engage, mumbling to himself “Get me on the ship, Get me off the ship...Does this mean we get to to back to Argus?” “NO!” Thrathreon shouted as he hurled immolation fel-fire at his target.

The Duo battled their way down one level to a navigation room. After dispatching the Eredar inside, Thrathreon was able to get his first good look out into the horizon; Lush green foliage, blue sky with a purple overhang from the setting sun. For a moment he could even make out eleven architecture in the distance, and for the second time he became immobilized by the reality before him. It wasn't until a giant blue dragon tore past the port window shaking the ship that he was able to snap out of his fantasy.

Rushing to the controls, the elf tried to grasp the controls, but cursed angrily as they were all written in demonic language of Eredic. “Pip! Can you read this!?” the warlock called behind him to the Imp which was occupying itself with biting at the head of one of their fallen victims. “Read it? Boss, I cant even reach the console, how the hell am I suppose to read whats on it?!” The warlock punched the console in anger as he began racking his brain for a new solution. “This one looks like its still alive, you can ask him” Pippik chimed in bouncing over to a non-gnawed on eredar.

Quickly reviewing the body, Thrathreon could see the demon was still drawing slow shallow breaths. Wasting not a moment, he reached out entwining the body and enslaving the mind of the Eredar Navigator and siphoning his own life essence into the being. “Rise! And tell me how to get off this thing, NOW!” Thrathreon barked. Perhalps he had spent too much time in Argus under an Overseer's heel, for even his own words bit back at him in his mind.



Shaking off his injuries, the Eredar did as command and approached the console. “There is no escape, we fight or we die. However you can use the Fel Cannon to launch yourself onto the surface below. Simply empty the artillery shell at the base of the ship and climb inside. I cannot guarantee you still wont die from the impact.” “Funny, I was going to say the same thing to you...” Thrathreon replied. The look of confusion that quickly turned to horror on the Eredar's face left just as quick as it had come as the Elf burried a dagger into its skull.

Pippik burst with laughter dancing around the corpse that fell to the floor, “Oh I should have pushed you over the edge YEARS ago had I known we would have THIS much fun!”

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

It did not take them long to reach the stern of the ship. The chaos going on outside kept most of the ships denizens preoccupied allowing near free access. A small fel-corruption crystal lay before them locked in a swirling energy vortex that traveled up to the ships main cannon. “That looks like a tight fit boss.” Pippik remarked, but Thrathreon paid him no mind. The warlock focused his power into his hands forming a stone from his own soul, just in case things did not go well. “Here, take this. Once you launch the cannon, slip back through the nether and meet me on the other side.”

“You know this is gonna hurt, right?” Pippik inquired. Thrathreon nodded, even with his unending resolve, and a dark pact with his void lord there was a good chance he could end up as a smear along the mountains edge. But the Dragons attacks were pressing, he was sure the ship had been breached by the champions of azeroth and the klaxon alarms were blaring all along the ship signaling a core breach. The ship was going to implode soon, and he knew if he had even the slightest chance to get out of this alive, it was going to be outside the ship.

The force of the cannon blast distorted all of Thrathreon's senses as he spun wildly inside the artillery shell. The brief blur of blues and greens between his eye blinks was enough to cause enough nausea to vomit a weeks worth of meals. Just as the elf could take no more of this maddening ride, everything went black.



Pain had infected every pore of his body, the world still spinning despite feeling solid ground underneath him. The Fel-corruption casing he was launched out of lay shattered before him. Thrathreon was unsure how long he was out or even where he was for a moment. He tried to rise, but the strength had left his body. Feebly he turned his head towards the sky. The Legion Ship was gone, most likely imploded from the assault of the dragonflight. The multitude of blues that cascaded over the sky was breathtaking. He wasn't sure if it was from the pain or the realization that he had made it home that brought infernal size tears to the elves eyes.

He chuckled and wept in pain for a moment rolling onto his side, and that's when he saw it. Looming in the sky was his old home, his old prison: Argus. There was a moment of surreal calm. He was out of the fire, but not out of the kitchen just yet. He had escaped the Legions Grasp, but it was now invading the very world he had escaped too, one wrong move could end him right back where he started. His head was hurting too much to think straight, and the elf succumbed to the trauma once more and blacked out.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-


The guards dropped the body at the landing “Lieutenant Sinclari, we found this Felblood Elf in the Ley-Ruins of Zarkhenar. It appears he escaped the Legion Ship that was assaulting the region.” The Blond Human Kirin-Tor Mage shifted her weight from one side to the other as she examined the near-dead horned elf, the fel-corruption was apparent enough. “Lock him in the Hold, we will interrogate him when he awakens and see what he knows.” she commanded

“Yes Ma'am” the guards chimed as they each took the elf by an arm and lead him away.

TO BE CONTINUED

[Khorvis]

[[ Good stuff. I love a proper escape from an imploding Legion ship. ]]

[Maikull]

SOME TIME LATER

He had spent a few weeks, maybe a month inside the Violet Hold. He was questioned multiple times by their 'inquisitors' and had his life and/or well-being threatened no less than 3-4 times a day by the local guards. Many people within the floating city had lost someone dear to them due to the legions assaults, it was no wonder they chose him as their outlet for their frustration. The Fel-taint and mutations within his blood was more apparent than the rest of his kin. Even the few elves among the Kirin-Tor referred to him as Fel-blood instead of Sin'Dorei. He didn't care however, not for their pain nor their offense towards him. He got what he wanted.

Though imprisoned, he was back on Azaroth, and that was a colossal achievement in its own. As far as getting his freedom, the elf was patient. Passing whispers and gossip among the guards and other inmates fueled the warlock’s mind of the state of the world outside. 20-30 years had passed since he last stepped foot on this world, and much had changed.

He had learned the future of his current prison was currently in question, as it had been breached multiple times from Legion Forces, and at least once a few years back by the forces of Arthas the Lich King. He had also learned that Illidan Stormrage’s Demon Hunters were unleashed upon the world, as he had been referred to as one on a few occasions. There were also tales of the two warring factions, the Horde and Alliance which had reached an obligatory cessation of aggression during the current incursion.

Thrathreon remembered tales of the Horde from the second war. The Brutish Orcs and Goblins who joined forces with the ancestral enemies of his people, the Trolls in an attempt to siege their homeland. It was only afterwards, when Silvermoon pledged its full support to the Alliance of Humans, Dwarves, and Gnomes that they were able to put an end to the Horde menace. To think that even after that, the Horde still thrived to become a superpower was a bit discouraging.



Thrathreon found himself kneeling before the ruling council of the Kirin-Tor, much earlier than he had anticipated. Four of the members were human, the fifth he wasn’t so sure of despite its outward appearance, and the sixth council member was absent. Though freed from shackles, the magical bonds that suppressed his powers were still present, and Kirin-Tor Guardians encircled the room.

The council began proceedings with customary introductions before diving right into the subject at hand:

Archmage Karlain: Please state your name, race, and profession for the record.
Thrathreon: Thrathreon Riversong, Sin’dorei, Warlock.
Archmage Ansirem: Sin’Dorei? Since when did blood elves grow horns?
Thrathreon: Since some were forced to ingest trace amounts of fel-blood over a prolonged period of time.
Archmage Modera: Why would anyone do such a thing?
Thrathreon: No Idea. Perhaps it was for fun, or intrigue of what would become of such an experiment. I would not know, you would have to ask my Eradar Masters at the time.
Archmage Karlain: So you admit you served the Legion?
Thrathreon: Yes…and No.
Archmage Kalec: Care to explain?
Thrathreon: Survival. You would not say a slave to your enemy is dedicated to their cause, even if they create constructs of war against your people. They simply have no choice, as I did. I could either serve as an eradar’s plaything, submitting to their wild mood swings, abuse, torture and rape. Or use my powers to make myself useful, and live a slightly more secured life.
Archmage Khadgar: Can you tell us how you came into the service of the legion? Or the circumstances that lead you there?

There was an eerie hush that came over the room as Khadgar spoke, even the enchanted quills transcribing the meeting stopped as to not interrupt him. The Silver Haired Magister defiantly commanded power and respect. Thrathreon wasn’t sure if the show was deliberate or unintentional, or which of the two was more unsettling.

Thrathreon: The last time I was here in Dalaran was with Prince Kael’thas. We escaped the dungeons with the help of the Naga, after Grand Marshall Garithos lost his damn mind. From there, we sought a new power source that would help our people beyond the black gate. Illidan promised a feast of energy that would sate our people due to the loss of the sunwell, but when we arrived we were only served the house’horderves of Fel Magic.

Illidan was holding out the true source of power that was promised to us, the same power that purged the fel taint from the demons that had become a part of Illidan’s forces. This upset Prince Kael’thas, and eventually forced his hand into dealing with Kil'jaeden. In cooperating with the Legion, we were promised the power within black temple, and the restoration of our people. But you can’t get something for nothing, especially when the stakes are so high. To earn the aid of the Burning Legion, Prince Kael’thas had to offer the one thing he treasured most; his own people as a sign of loyalty.

A handful of us volunteered as tribute, emissaries we told ourselves. We had no contact with our world when we left, no idea of the outcome of our sacrifice…but we did hear about Kael’thas. They made sure we heard of it, thought it was funny. How he went mad, fel-crazed, how he died by the hands of the very people he loved. But I didn’t care for what he became of after the fact. I will always remember him as the leader he was, the man who was willing to do whatever it took, not for himself, but for his people.

After that I spent years between legion controlled worlds. I was a slave, a plaything, bouncing around in the possession of various Eradar and demons. When they found out the results of the Elves who gorged themselves on fel-blood, the experiments on those of us who remained began. I lucked out, they wanted to see what a small, continuous dose over time would do to me. But I saw what it did to the others, what other experiments they performed.

I knew then if I were to survive, I had to become useful. That’s when I showed my power and ability. I won’t lie, I murdered people defending their home worlds. I drained the souls of children while their parents watched in horror. I maintained invasion portals, charged power crystals. Any and every odd job you can think of that would benefit the Legion, I did. That became my life, that became my way to survive.

As far as I knew, Azeroth was already invaded and destroyed by the legion, I had no way of knowing different, and no means to make it back on my own. But once Kil'jaeden showed us this city…once he opened the portals to this world and ordered its destruction…I came home. Do with this what you will…I’ve been through enough crap as it is. Even if you were to condemn me to death, at least I’ll die on my home world among my own people, and not some god’s forsaken planet in the dark beyond.

The hall was silent once more. It’s not that his words were fallacious in any means, but he did have time to prepare them in the most impactful way possible. Khadgar cleared his throat…

Archmage Khadgar: Well…that was quite the moving tale.
Archmage Modera: However our decision cannot be swayed by a poetic tale of woe. The Legion has been known to submit agents into our cities, to terrorize our citizens and sabotage our defenses. How do we know you’re still not a loyal agent playing the part?
Thrathreon: You don’t. But with all due respect, if I was going to terrorize your citizens, I wouldn’t allow myself to be locked in a prison cell. If I was going to attempt another assault on your hold, I would have already done so by now. And if the legion was to sabotage your defenses, they would send a dread lord after one of you, the most powerful and influential of their enemies.

There was yet another hush, this one more of an awkward silence as the council members shifted their weight uneasily. Thrathreon caught Archmage Kalec glancing towards the empty spot where the 6th Council member would stand and realized he must have struck a nerve. Perhaps the dread lords already attempted such a feat.

The council began to deliberate among one another, in hushed whisper. Even if they decided to kill him, there was solace in the fact that he would die on his own home world instead of some gods forsaken planet out in the great dark beyond. Normally one would not prefer death, but given his years on untold planets and worlds, seeing firsthand the needless violence and destruction, he had received a new perspective on life. At least his death would mark the end of his journey, and not as a sacrificial pawn of someone else’s war engine. They did not contemplate for long, a fact that did not fair well for his chances as he watched the council members retake their places.

Archmage Khadgar: “We are not always dealt the hand we want from the deck of fate. I have seen many friends fall into darkness, perform unpleasant actions they regret, feeling it was their only option. Whether that was truly the case, or they were simply going for the easy way out, the true measure of their hearts was in their humility. When given the option, were they able to repent and make amends for their past transgression? Or were they beyond redemption?

We face a danger like no other, bearing the full brunt of the legions charge. The fate of our world hangs in the balance and now more than ever we need to come together and face this enemy with every able bodied champion of azeroth. We were not able to verify your claims of past tutelage as many of our records from before the third war were destroyed. However we were able to verify your identity through correspondence with the Regency of Silvermoon. You served Dalaran and your people once before. We offer you the chance to do so again.

Khadgar held out a small purple stone with a runic etching. Thrathreon hesitated for a moment and reached for the hearthstone. It’s amazing how much significance can be held in such a trivial item. The elf examined the stone in his hand and whispered a thank you. His fist clenched tightly around the small stone, as if to hold onto it forever. This was the proverbial pinch; the miniscule power of the stone radiating through his hand let Thrathreon know this wasn’t all just a dream.

[Maikull]

The city was his, freedom at last. People and creatures of all races rushed to and from the banks, the taverns, and market places. The smells and aromas of food and forge filled the air all around Thrathreon baiting his curiosity, but he was focused. He could explore this whole city at his leisure; there was something far more important he had to do first.

A small magical chime rang out in the storefront as the Warlock entered the Dalaran Visitors Center. The store was decorated like a gift shop almost. Chests, Banners, Tabards and Pottery were all on display, however one side of the store was dedicated to the blue and gold of the alliance, while the other side was decorated in black and red for the Horde.

The Guardians in the violet citadel had given him instructions to meet with a Kirin Tor agent in the visitor’s center who could help him make his way home, and prepare him for the culture shock that was to follow. He was slightly anxious to say the least, seeing the Horde merchandise so prominently displayed next to the alliance only fueled the rumors he had heard inside the Hold.

There were three shop keepers inside, two humans and one elven woman. She had platinum hair and radiant cerulean eyes which immediately caught his attention.



“Greetings” Thrathreon stated, bowing before the elven mistress. The Quel'dorei turned to him and smiled. “Oh, hello. You must be the 'Illidari' I was told about.” There was some emphasis she placed on the word Illidari, giving Thrathreon a small wink as she stated it and holding her hand out. He took her hand, bowing politely and kissing her hand ever so gently, “Thrathreon Riversong...I was told...” he began but the woman simply waved him off, “Yes yes, Let me just wrap up here and we can go chat...privately.” she stated with a smirk.

Thrathreon stood quietly as the woman folded up various tabards and sewing equipment and stored them in the shelves. Once she was done, she had turned to the two humans in the shop, grabbing the warlock by the wrist as she spoke “I'm going to grab a drink at the lounge! If anyone drops by for me, just have them leave an order slip!” The man at the counter simply grunted in response, and the human woman smirked at the two as he was quickly pulled back out of the door.

Thrathreon was guided around the city, through a few back allies and corridors to a large corner tavern; the sign outside read [Legerdemain Lounge]. Elizabeth lead them to a small table near the rear entrance and beckoned one of the servers. While she ordered, Thrathreon took the opportunity to scan the bar. Over half the patrons were human. A handful of elves, a shady drunk orc sat at the bar not to far from a giant monkey, and a pirate-clad troll sat at one of the back tables.

His concentration was broken as he realized not only did the waitress return with their drinks, but Elizabeth was snickering at him. “Sorry...” he stated, accepting the drink that was ordered for him in his preoccupation. He took the drink and sipped at it, it was a strong herbal tea; Hot, Sweet, with a hint of apple and cinnamon to it. “I hope you like it, it comes from a recipe from Suramar.” Elizabeth explained.

She too took a drink from her cup and then sat with her hands across her lap, clearly awaiting Thrathreon. He sat down his drink as another server arrived with a plate of honey croissants on the table. “So...how about we get the elephant out of the room. What questions do you have for me?” Elizabeth asked with a smile. Thrathreon paused for a moment, he had so many, he wasn't sure which one was to be first...

Thrathreon: What has become of Silvermoon?
Elizabeth: Its fine. Rebuilt, at least around the damage of the dead scar. Lor'themar Theron has become the Regent Lord of Quel'Thalas. In fact the Regency is the whole reason the Kirin-Tor released you, and there quite keen on speaking with you once you return.
Thrathreon: I see. Your eyes...Was the Sun-well restored?
Elizabeth: Oh...Yes. Well, It has been restored. I am still Quel'dorei, I was never tainted by the fel and never took up the distinction of Sin'dorei. Even with the sun-well restored, Sin'dorei still show the tale-tell sign of their affliction such as their green eyes.

Seeing the slight confusion growing on the warlock's face Elizabeth delved deeper into her explanation.

Elizabeth: Let me clear this up. Remember when the Kal'dorei banished us for using Arcane Magic? There was no real difference between us and them at the time, except for our beliefs, but because of that we became Quel'dorei and slowly grew more physical distinction apart from one another.

The same thing happened with the Quel'dorei and Sin'dorei. See, when we lost the sun-well, our advanced training here with the Kirin-Tor taught us to pull from the magic around us, rather than from a singular source, eliminating us from being forced to result to fel-magic.

Imagination bathing in water all your life, and one day the river runs dry. Then someone shows up one day, and tells you that a mud bath is just as purifying as bathing in water, and instead of seeking a new stream, you go with the mud bath. Some view it as repulsing, which is what the remaining Quel'dorei believed, causing the break between the two factions.

I mean, don't get me wrong, I know many had no choice, it was fel-magic or death, and I don't have any problem with Sin'dorei personally, but there was a divide between us on that decision...and after the Sin'dorei opt to join the Horde...

Thrathreon had just taken another sip from his cup to wash down the treat before him when he began to gag and spit his drink back out at her words, cutting her off mid sentence.

Thrathreon: We WHAT!?

A few patrons turned to look at the small commotion, Thrathreon gathered himself once more as Elizabeth shrunk down in her seat to avoid the view of the people in the bar. A waitress arrived quickly with a handful of napkins to help clean up the mess. Thrathreon thanked the server and apologized for the outburst.

Elizabeth: Given the betrayal of the House of Menethil, as well as the cruel and unbecoming actions of a certain Grand Marshall, of whom I'm sure you remember...many of the Sin'dorei who remained behind began to distrust the Alliance. And when the Sin'dorei began to seek a way into the Outland to find Prince Kael'thas, Sylvanas had lend her hand along with the support of the Hor...

Thankfully, Thrathreon had mentally prepared himself and prevented another outburst but the wide-eyed expression on his face sent tells to the Quel'dorei before him which made her take break to her exhalation that was sure to rattle the warlock before her.

Thrathreon: Sylvanas...lives? I thought...Arthas...

Elizabeth left the warlock to ponder a moment as she summoned the bartender once more, noting that her 'friend' was going to require something FAR stronger than tea for the news she was about to break to him. Once a nice stiff drink was applied to his tea, she continued once more.

Elizabeth: Arthas killed Sylvanas Windrunner and raised her as a Banshee to fight for him...but once he lost some of his power, he lost control of her and she became the Banshee Queen of all the scourge who regained their free will. And yes, The 'Forsaken' as they are called are apart of the Horde as well. The alliance between the Sin'dorei and the...highly controversial Horde is what drive the final steak between the Quel'dorei and Sin'dorei. Since then there has been much bad blood between the two factions, that I fear we will never be able to reconcile.

Thrathreon sat there, absorbing the knowledge, Elizabeth sat patiently as her charge sorted his thoughts. After several swigs from his drink and an uncountable number of minutes in silence, he was able to form words again.

Thrathreon: Who is all apart of the Horde?
Elizabeth: Orcs, Trolls, Tauren, Forsaken, Sin'dorei, Goblins, and now part of the Pandaran race.
Thrathreon: So we have allied ourselves with the same Orcs, Trolls, Goblins, and Scourge who once tried to kill us, and are now at war with our former allies the Humans, Gnomes, and Dwarves?
Elizabeth: The Kal'dorei are now apart of the alliance, as are the Draenai and other Pandaran's. The remains of the Quel'dorei also pledge fealty to the Alliance, however theirs not enough of us to classify us as a full race; and a some of us, like me, serve the Kirin-Tor which is once again neutral.

Thrathreon sat there continuing to drink in silence as he pieced together everything he had been told. Its not that he expected things to stay the same as when he left, but it was as if the world fell off the stupid tree and hit every branch on the way down. However Elizabeth was right in one aspect, given the declining relations between the Sin'dorei and the humans, and with a newly revived Sylvanas he could see his people taking such a risk, anything necessary for survival.

Elizabeth: You ok?
Thrathreon: Oh, yes...sorry, just a lot to sink in is all. Thank you for the information, but I am eager to return home. Any way for me to get off this floating rock?



Elizabeth lead him outside and down the street where he stood before the portion of the city dubbed [Windrunner Sanctuary]. “The city is broken into two districts, one for the alliance and one for the Horde. Its to help keep faction related disputes to a minimum while in the city, and for the most part it works. This is as far as I can take you, blue-eyes and all they wont let me through.” Elizabeth joked.

Thrathreon took her hands into his own and kissed them. “Thank you for your help, I do appreciate it.” Elizabeth blushed for a moment at the Warlock's affection. “Its nothing, if you need a Tabard made, be sure to stop by my shop. Al diel shala Riversong.”

“Al diel shala Miss Ross.” Thrathreon bid to her as the Elven Tailor made her way back, leaving him alone in the street. He turned and looked into the ghetto which his people now elected to inhabit. Two armored scourge stood at the entrance, almost oblivious of his presence.

“Xelkek...were you paying attention?” The warlock stated out-loud. There was no response from either of the two guards, but Thrathreon heard what he needed, he smirked to himself as he began walking the downward slope into the sanctuary. “Good...we have a lot of catching up to do...”