A/N: Please note that this is of course Fan Fiction, therefore the events described would be slightly deviated from the orginal telling.

And nope, I in fact do not own Warcraft or anything else I write about.

Chapter 1 Urgency

"Lady Arlandria!" exclaimed a young elven message runner. Arlandria Thorne jerked up from her desk and looked around widely before seeing him.

"Lady Arlandria, the first gate has been shattered, the enemy is pouring forward in great numbers," he cried. "Lady Sylvanas has called forth all reserve units to the front!"

"The first gate is broken," Arlandria whispered softly to herself.

Her eyes wide with shock and disbelief. It is not possible she thought, no enemy has ever breeched that defensive line. Arlandria tried to regain some composure and slowly turned back to face the message runner. He seemed on the verge of collapse, his right leg was injured and visibly bleeding from deep gashes. His armor worn and dirty, his quiver empty.

"The message is recieved, now go to the medical tents and get rested." Arlandria said.

"But my Lady, I must spread word to-" he protested.

"I gave an order! I will not have our runners bled to death needlessly," spoke Arlandria. "I will send fresh runners to the other captains, now go!"

The brave runner left without another word. Arlandria needed a moment to be alone, she did not want anyone to see her panic. No one should ever see their superiors not in control of the situation. To do so would cause wide-spread fear for everyone.

She slowly walked over to a mirror and gazed at herself. Her bright yellow eyes starkly traveling over her reflection. She realized that she had never before seen herself this pale. Leaning forward, gently placing her forehead on the glass, she closed her eyes and prayed.

Of course they had all heard the rumors, a terrible plauge festering in Lorderian. Reports came in that were nearly unbelievable to reason. Prince Arthas killing his father and usurping the throne for himself? Necromantic symptoms of plauge victims and mass formations of the undead? But as it turned out, the frantic reports were true, and the elves were now to face its full onslaught.

Arlandria had by now had enough idle-ness, it was time for her to fulfill her duty, no matter the cost. She sprinted into the adjacent room where eight elven rangers lay sleeping.

"Wake up immediately!" she said loudly.

As each one quickly stood and saluted, she went on, "You four spread out and send word to all other captains that their units are to report to the front at once. You four rush to Silvermoon and report the breech of the frontlines and plead for all reinforcements to stand-by. Send word to all those living outside the city to flee to its safety. Keep your weapons at the ready and expect enemy contact."

All eight rangers stood there for a moment, nobody moving. They all wore a similar look of disbelief that the front had been broken.

"What are you waiting for?" Arlandria yelled, "Move!"

The elves reflexes at the order caused them to move before their minds wanted to let them as they scrambled to the exit. Arlandria moved quickly to place a hand on the shoulder of the last one leaving, one that was meant to evacuate. The ranger turned quickly in confusion to face Arlandria. Before she had a chance to speak, Arlandria said,

"Find Jullena and Foinus as quickly as you can, and get them in Silvermoon," she said, pleading in her tone of voice.

"Of course My Lady, I will at once," she spoke and sprinted off as quickly as her nimble legs would carry her.

Arlandria turned and ran towards the entrance of her post, looking for her most capable lieutenant. Within moments she found her, wearing her armor and weapons, nervously polishing them.

"Lieutenant Vupila, summ-" she began.

"I already have My Lady," in a low monotonous tone the lieutenant spoke.

Her eyes already seemed zoned out of time and space.

"I heard your yelling from here," she continued.

"How long?" Arlandria asked.

"The unit will be ready to march within three minutes," lieutenant Vupila replied, her lifeless, hopeless tone quickly draining what little spirit Arlandria still had left.

Despite the fact the two have been close friends for many many years, Arlandria was speechless to give her words of comfort. Her lieutenant had been at the front already, so Arlandria had to concede that she did not know as much about what she was leading her unit towards.

"Your armor is clean enough," was all Arlandria could mutter.

"When I die for the first time, I want to look very good," Vupila replied.

"Do not be so fatalistic, even the wisest of us can never know how it is all going to end," Arlandria said.

Arlandria turned and left to gather her supplies and prepare to leave for the front. Still sitting and slowly polishing her greaves, the fearful lieutenant whispered to herself.

"No, we don't," she said, "but I have a very clear idea."

End of Chapter 1