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The noise of battle slowly died down as it moved on up the Dead Scar. Undead forces were spearing through the Blood Elven defenses on to Silvermoon. A lone Elf had made his way back, searching the bodies as he went. A particular body took his interest and he removed its helmet. He was still breathing. "Haldaaron, can you hear me Brother? You are still here, Save your energy". Slowly positioning Haldaaron and giving him some water from his pack energised a low gurgle into a recognisable voice. "H..hear... hear me.. I need you to... give.. my love to.. my .. Daughter...". "She... she is in th... the Ghostlands.. please.. do this for me..... My Friend.."

The captain of the fifth defense battalion exhaled his final breath, and silence decended.



Winemaster Suntouched was delivering a batch of Port to from the Silvermoon City Inn to the Wayfarer's Rest at his quick pace, well as quick as someone can go with two heavy barrels on their shoulders. He walked up the steps and through the door till lowering the barrels onto the floor. "Here is your latest purchase of Port sir, Finest in Quel'thalas". The Innkeeper noted his stock and payed Suntouched twelve silver coins. "Very generous sir. Good day". Once Suntouched was gone he opened the wooden barrels and took three bottles. One contained a grey parchment, withered and torn. It read...

To whom recieves this letter. I am one of the many residents of Goldenmist Village in the Ghostlands. We are barely able to survive without supplies and men. The Undead in the nearby area are being led by a skeletal mage by the name of Khaar and are amassing for an attack to remove us. You must send aid, you must h

...And the bottom of the letter was missing. Maybe the attack had begun at that moment, or maybe there was still time.



Gilareth Drakeson, Champion of the fifth defense battalion and now Captain, was preparing for his next assignment where he could hopefully find Haaldaron's daughter. His armour was gleaming, his sword sharp, his men rested. The Ghostlands would face one of the finest group of soldiers that the Elves could spare. "Trooper, report". "Our scouts have confirmed the presence of the Scourge. The foul dead roam the Dead Scar around two ziggurats, one on either side. We now know that Windrunner Village is lost and Goldenmist will soon join them if we don't act now. Tranquillen defenses are holding well so my advice would be to re-supply there". The force marched south past Fairbreeze Village and the South Sanctum till reaching the border of Eversong Woods. The wind from the Ghostlands was cold and lifeless. Trees drooped down in sad symmetry. Haaldaron would be avenged.

Tranquillen, a small village in the center of what is now the Ghostlands. Recently the Forsaken Queen and former Ranger Captain, Sylvanas Windrunner, had sent her own Forsaken Undead to aid the Elves. The town was indeed secure as preperations were made for the next shipment of supplies. South led to Deatholme, Stronghold of the Scourge and the first staging point that started the destruction of Silvermoon. There would be a time for a counter-attack, and it would be sweet...

Gilareth had entered the Village in perfect military style. Unwavering formations of supreme loyalty in Elven form. The citizens watched in awe and some even cheered.


((To be continued))

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