-2- Nightfall

"Before the Lich King declared his war against Azeroth, until recently there's been small pockets of remnants of previous Northrend expeditions. Mostly Humans and Dwarves left over from the aftermath of Arthas Menethil's betrayal. They took whatever they could salvage, including livestock, and traveled as far away from the devastation as their legs could carry them. I didn't think they'd get this far into the Grizzly Hills, but desparation can drive people to improbable limits," said Kelar.

"Agreed. So the cow probably came from a nearby settlement?" asked Guro'jintal.

The Dwarf nodded. "Most likely. But the fact that it was a stray isn't a good sign. Either they've done a poor job of keeping track of their cattle, or there ain't no more settlement."

"Undead?"

"Aye, that or worse. The winds up here carry something on 'em. Drives some people nuts. A few weeks back t'was a lost Elf that said he was a turtle, but an evil mage had transformed him with a spell. Kept askin' that we turn him back so he can go swimmin' again," said Kelar. His normally jovial tone had been replaced with a mellow sadness.

"Well, I guess it could be worse. You could be havin' the evil mage goin' nuts and blowin' up everything within a square mile," replied Guro'jintal.

"Aye. T'would be a bad mess," answered Kelar. The Dwarf glanced at the horizon before looking back to Guro'jintal with a look of mild surprise. "'Tis later than I would have guessed! We best be pickin' up the pace to get home quicker before the sun sets."

"What happens when the sun sets?" asked Guro'jintal.

"I'll explain when we get back to camp. It'll be safer then."

---

It was a grand commotion back at the camp. It was as if everyone had something to do, and were too preoccupied to help Guro'jintal and the others with their catch. Kelar still hadn't explained the situation, and had to pardon himself for the moment as he had preparations to see to that could not be ignored. Though the Troll was slightly agitated by the lack of information, he was tolerant. Besides, the other members of Guro'jintal's team that had stayed might know something.

Guro'jintal spoke to his second in command, Hirojata. Guro'jintal had served with him on numerous occasions during the years of service in Thrall's military, and consequently had taken in the Troll as a brother he never had. Hirojata was a bit shorter than Guro'jintal, but built quite the same: lithe and wiry. He was a few years younger than Guro'jintal and had managed to keep the youthful blue of his hair intact. His eyes were a dark yellow, and did not show the same tinge of red like Guro'jintal's own. It was one of the deciding factors in choosing Hirojata as his second in command: where Guro'jintal had been weak, Hirojata had been strong.

"All they have told us is that at night, monsters attack. Tonight will have been the sixth consecutive attack," said Hirojata.

Guro'jintal nodded, still slightly baffled. "Is it Scourge? Furbolg?"

"No," said Hirojata, shaking his head. "Humans, Dwarves, Gnomes. But something strange about them. One of the guards say their eyes glow red, and their screams chill you deeper than the coldest blizzard."

"Demons?"

"Perhaps, commander," shrugged Hirojata.

Thankfully Kelar chose this time to emerge from the medical tent behind Hiro'jata, so Guro'jintal urged his friend to come along with him and confront the Dwarven commander. Kelar was accompanied by a pair of armed Dwarves who looked positively agitated. Though they greeted the Trolls with cheer, Guro'jintal knew something was nagging them.

"Kelar, I don't mean to be curt, but my men and I are feeling excluded. What are these 'monsters' that attack by night?" asked Guro'jintal.

"Follow," simply replied the Dwarf. The Trolls followed him to the western edge of the camp, where the blockade Guro'jintal had seen earlier had been substantially reinforced. Kelar spoke in his native tongue to a sentry before turning back to Guro'jintal. "For the last five days, our camp has come under assault from a strange threat. They are not Scourge; they walk with purpose and blood in their eyes. Those same eyes glow the color of the liquid that they thirst. They are much like us, but something about them is changed. I believe them to be under a spell of sorts."

"They wear farmers clothing, and wield laborer's weapons. But the ferociousness with which they strike is unlike even the savagest of beasts. Something is fueling their inhuman rage, and we've yet to figure it out. There," Kelar pointed down the road they had arrived by earlier that day, "past the ridge, perhaps a mile beyond where we found you doing battle with the Scourge, a strange light a dark shade of purple sets the night sky ablaze."

"What is it?" asked Hirojata.

"We've yet to find out. But I suspect it is at the source of whatever plagues us with these night terrors."

"We should seek it out," suggested Guro'jintal.

Kelar shook his head. "Not now. We must wait until dawn. I sent a team out the second night...we found their mangled corpses the following morning. By night, the wilderness is theirs."

It was then a chilling howl emanated from the growing gloom, and the Dwarves visibly shivered. Guro'jintal remained unabashed. Instead, he pulled his bone dagger free from his waist belt and presented it to Kelar.

"I made this dagger myself. I pulled it free from the dead maw of the Lich King's frostwyrm. It was on the final day of our stay in the Dragonblight, where the Lich King raises the dead dragons from their graves. It was the twentieth dragon to have fallen by our hand. I have seen great evils, Kelar, and I intend to see more. After tonight, my men and I will be setting out for that ridge, and we shall not return until the threat is eliminated. Whether you wish to join us is entirely up to you. If you wish to live in fear of whatever exists beyond that ridge, believe me when I say that I've probably seen worse."

Kelar was silent for a moment. "What if you do not return? What if the evil cannot be stopped? What if you fail? Be reasonable!"

"Then I shall have twenty frostwyrms to my name, Kelar."

---

In the still darkness of Northrend, just beyond the glow of the Dwarves' torches, something was moving. First a single pair of red eyes glared at them, then several more began to emerge from the gloom. Guro'jintal looked to his right and left, then back at the multitude of glowing eyes and projected a ratio of five to one, not in their favor. He watched as the first of them entered the light, studying the strange creature with mild intensity.

It was a Human, or had been. Its skin was pale yellow, like the blood had run dry in its veins. Beside the pale features, it appeared to be in healthy condition. Its body was lithe and strong, and it appeared undaunted by the intense cold in a lack of clothes that wasn't more than a tattered shirt and pants. Then again, from the glow of its eyes and the strange sound that was coming out of its mouth, it was safe the say the thing wasn't Human anymore.

It hissed dully, the strange sound carrying across the road and causing Guro'jintal to shiver involuntarily. He withdrew his sight from the crossbow aim to watch as a number of figures came into view. They were a mismatch of Human, Dwarf, and Gnome, and all appeared similar to the first creature: pale yellow skin, muscular body, glowing red eyes. The hisses and chatters that they constantly spat were somewhat unsettling.

"They have never come in so many numbers," said Kelar, readjusting the scope on his rifle. "Where could they be coming from?"

"Wherever that glow is, I would say," said Guro'jintal, pointing toward the bubble of purple haze that rose and fell over the far ridge. "After tonight, I intend to find out."

"Let's take this one step at a time. We have to survive, first."

"It's not an option, Kelar," answered Guro'jintal. "You have no choice but to survive."

Kelar stared oddly at Guro'jintal before returning to aim down the scope of his rifle at the emerging enemy. The horde had assembled in its entire mass, a size that looked over three times the population of the Dwarven camp. A handful of tense moments passed where both sides simply eyed one another without uttering a single word. Silent, knowing stares of what was to come.

Then one of the creatures dropped its jaw to let forth a shrill cry that rattled Guro'jintal's eardrums. And as the monsters suddenly broke into a sprint toward the Dwarven barricade, the defenders didn't fire off a single shot. It wasn't until the enemy was within twenty feet when Guro'jintal gave a shout and a moment later, a vial of glowing liquid went sailing over their heads to land at the feet of the charging creatures. A second shout from Guro'jintal had the Dwarves and Trolls dropping their heads beneath the top of the barricade as the glass shattered, and a blinding light pierced the night sky. In an instant the enemy charge was broken as they attempted to remove the temporary blindness from their nocturnal vision. Meanwhile the defenders brought their weapons to bear once again.

"Fire at will!" roared Kelar. He squeezed the trigger of his rifle and chuckled with delight as one of the creature's heads came apart like a watermelon.

The barks of rifle discharges and dull thuds of crossbow bolts burst in a staccato. A dozen fell in the first salvo, and nearly a dozen more as the second wave hit the creatures a second later. By the third, the creatures had regained their bearings and closed the gap to the barricade in seconds. Several launched themselves at the wooden barrier, inadvertantly goring themselves on the spikes. The remaining monsters climbed over their brethren's corpses, only to be cut apart by the defender's waiting axes and swords. The assault had been reduced to a handful of the strange creatures. A minute later and they were dead as well.

Guro'jintal had been counting, a hobby war had bred in him. "Thirty-two us, zero them."

Alojin laughed, clasping his commander's wrist in a warrior grip. Kelar strode up a moment later and slapped Guro'jintal heartily on the shoulder. "Well done, lad! We didn't even have to bring in our secret weapon."

"Be thankful we didn't. It would have been a bigger mess to clean up," laughed Guro'jintal.

"Commander?"

Kelar turned to the Dwarf who was addressing him. The warrior was pointing out into the distance. Kelar's smile relaxed into pursed lips as his gaze followed the Dwarf's outstretched finger. Then he turned to Guro'jintal.

"Looks like we aren't out of the woods yet," he said, throwing his nose at something advancing from the gloom.

More eyes. A lot more.

"Damn. With a rough head count," began Guro'jintal, scanning the still-emerging forest of red globes, "It looks like a group of at least double strength."

"And I'm out of Blind-Water," added Alojin.

"I guess we're in for some real fun, then," replied Guro'jintal. He turned to Kelar before continuing. "Ready your men, Kelar. There's still a chance to use our secret weapon. But we've got to do it right. Follow..."

---

There were seventy three of the creatures. More than half, and much more than Guro'jintal was used to counting for himself. An army of such size would be impossible to hold at the barricade. When the monsters charged, the defenders took a disciplined firing pattern. The first salvo came with twenty-five feet to go, and dropped eleven of the red-eyed monsters. The second salvo arrived with ten feet to go, and took down ten more. As the first of the enemy arrived at the barricade, Kelar gave the order to retreat. The gained second of time to reload allowed for a final salvo of pellets and bolts that slowed the creatures' advance by a fraction. Then, Guro'jintal gave the order, shouting at the top of his lungs.

In the darkness of the snow bank on the creature host's unprotected right flank, a black mass descended on the enemy with a war cry that momentarily stunned the unsuspecting enemy. Hirojata and the other ten Darkspear fell on the creatures with a fury worthy of any Troll warrior. Advancing in spearhead formation with Hirojata and his twin scythes at the tip, the ambush cut the creature horde in half. Kelar called for the advance, and in but a handful of seconds twenty of the monsters were caught in between the Dwarven position and the Troll ambush and cut down with ease. Hirojata and the other Trolls held off the remainder of the monsters until Guro'jintal and Kelar could regroup and advance. When they arrived to bolster the ambush's numbers, their assault practically rolled over the remaining creatures.

---

But the battle hadn't ended without cost. One of Guro'jintal's own had fallen. His name was Yiwolta, a native of the savage Hinterland clans. The warrior's throat was torn out where one of the creatures had slipped past his guard. Guro'jintal crouched over his corpse, muttering a prayer for the dead. Then he pulled the Troll's lids over his dead eyes and stood up. Hijawath came up beside Guro'jintal, a beaker of clear liquid in hand. He popped the cork and tipped the container over, dousing Yiwolta's corpse in it. Alojin bent over his corpse with a flint and tinder, and proceeded to strike a spark. When it did ignite, the flame was slow to reach a fire. Then the remaining twelve Trolls gathered in circle around his burning corpse, their heads bowed in respect. Their voices began a prayer in low voices and steadily rose to crescendo.

Kelar and Bolax stood off several feet, watching the funeral in quiet recognition. The Dwarves had lost two of their own tonight. Their funeral would be tomorrow, but there would be no fire, no prayer. Just a burial, and payment of respects.

"I still have much to learn from the Trolls," said Bolax. Kelar nodded.

"They are a very honorable people. They honor their dead as much as their living. Death is the next step in the life of a Troll warrior. It is more glorious then life as a coward."

"Sounds almost a bit crazy," added Bolax.

"Maybe," started Kelar. "But it's amazing how they maintain their resolution. Even here, in the Frozen North, they still have the will to carry on tradition. It's admirable."