---
--two months earlier--
Dungar Longdrink strode back and forth, occasionally stopping by one of his magnificent charges where they lay idle in their roosts, waiting for a would-be traveller to carry across the kingdom. While distinctly a Stormwind human, he had earned his surname’s inherent reputation several times over from the intermittent drinking binges he’d share with his Ironforge colleagues in the Dwarven District, along with a healthy (less so for him) respect from his height-challenged peers. He was widely regarded as one of the finer gryphon keepers in the profession, and considering the scrutiny of the Dwarven flight masters, that was certainly saying something.
He turned his head as the distinct sound of gryphon wings reached his well-honed ears, and squinted into the early morning mist cloaking the Valley of Heroes. He furrowed his brow slightly – those weren’t the wings of a typical travelling gryphon. The beats were stronger, faster.
And approaching at alarming speed.
He was only given a split second to throw himself out of the way as the colossal War Gryphon came swooping into the Roost with a deafening roar, narrowly avoiding smashing clean into the stone column dividing the two entryways. The beast came to a screeching halt on the reinforced floorboards, massive claws tearing into the woodwork for traction to halt its momentum, and it only barely kept itself from careening into the stockpiles of supplies neatly stacked against the opposite wall.
Dungar got to his feet just in time to see the anonymous rider tumble off the painfully heaving Gryphon’s back and immediately felt his temper flare at the sight of the athletic woman so obviously wearing rogue leather. He could put up with a lot of things, but joyriding a War Gryphon into the Stormwind Gryphon Roost was an entirely different matter.
“What in high blazes do you think you’re—!!”
The she-rogue – Light, she was tall – pushed herself to her feet and threw up a hand in his face. “No time!”
And then she turned on her heel and ran at breakneck speed for the exit, nearly bowling the flabbergasted guards over. He heard her voice once more as she disappeared through the stone arch. “Outta the way!!”
One of the guardsmen turned to Dungar, obviously intent on sounding the alarm. “Sir! Sir, should we—”
“No.” Dungar shook his head; his initial rage over the steed’s treatment wholly evaporated. “We mustn’t interrupt a messenger.”
The guards stared at him in momentary disbelief and then at each other. With no reason to act, they glumly returned to their positions. Dungar turned his attention to the exhausted beast; patting its matted fur and tousled feathers, untangling reins and easing off armour plates. All the while the image of the woman’s face remained emblazoned on his mind’s vision – streaked with sweat and ash, silver-teal eyes wild with desperation and fury and a strange, deep gleam that continued to haunt him even now.
It did not escape him that the emblem on the gryphon’s saddle clearly showed the silver sun of the Argent Dawn.
~||~
“Outta the way!!”
The guard posted at the entrance of the Roost wisely heeded her as she shot past. Not bothering with the ramp, she simply catapulted herself off the precipice, landing in a roll in the avenue below and coming up running. Thankfully the streets were still nearly empty; only the earliest morning birds strolling about and they, too, throwing themselves aside as she came barrelling through. The Trade District was little more than a brief blur – a pulse of instinct and she was already vaulting onto the bridge leading north-west across the canals, another pulse and she was skidding through the passageway leading into the Cathedral Square. She never slowed; leaping across the stone benches surrounding the central fountain, she only stopped as a robed cleric came walking out of the towering, sacred structure ahead of her, and she immediately seized the gobsmacked man.
“Theluin! Where’s Theluin??”
“I, ah, who—” The middle-aged man quickly regained a measure of composure. “… the … the esteemed Moon Priest should be in … the Argent Dawn reception right about now—”
She let go of him and sprinted as fast as her legs could carry her towards the building that had been commissioned as a headquarters for the renowned organisation.
Theluin was already in the open doorway and she slammed squarely into him, carrying them both inside. With them was one of the high commanding officers of the Argent Dawn, two adjutants, and what looked like a Stormwind historian. The last one was monumentally taken aback by the forceful entrance.
“Light’s mercy!” he exclaimed, quickly stepping aside and noticeably away from the tattered-looking she-rogue. “What business have you to barge in on a private meeting like this?!”
The elderly Kaldorei gave the man no heed. He quickly steadied the heaving young woman. “Tuan. Tuan! What is it? What do you know?”
She struggled visibly to catch her breath. The mad dash from the Roost to the Cathedral had been murder. “T-the Portal. The Dark Portal.”
Theluin’s eyes widened. “Oh, Elune’s grace …”
She nodded, swallowing down deep gulps of air. “It’s opened.” The historian stared at her with even greater incredulity.
The Argent officer immediately snapped to attention. He quickly strode over to her and grabbed her shoulder with one armoured hand. “When? How?”
She looked over at him, still panting heavily. “Less than a day. This Doomguard … came out of the Scar. Used some kind of … artefact to—to reactivate the portal. He went through. An hour later, the whole place flooded with demons.”
The officer did not reply. Instead, he turned with a sharp nod to his adjutants, who duly sprinted out the door and vanished. The historian had been reduced to incoherent sputtering.
The officer turned back to her. “How is the situation?”
“The Dawn was holding the breach when I left.”
He sighed and nodded. “Then there is still time.”
The historian finally found his eloquence again. “Is this some kind of knuckle-headed joke?? The portal has been dead for years! There is no possible way to open it, and the heroes that made it so are long gone!”
The officer merely turned his head and affixed the archivist with a chilling stare. The other man fell meekly silent.
“This is the exact reason why the Argent Dawn exists, academic. If there is the slightest possibility that the Burning Legion or any of its machinations may return, me and my brothers stand sworn to deter it. We exist because of warnings such as this that went unheeded when they should have been heard. You are a historian; I am sure you can recall with perfect vividity what consequences the folly of ignorance has already brought to this world.”
The smaller man began to stammer. The officer put up a hand.
“I have no need for excuses. Leave; this meeting is officially adjourned.”
The historian drew his breath indignantly, and then seemed to remember where he was. He swallowed whatever incensed words he had been on the brink of uttering and stormed out.
The commander offered a chair for the fatigued woman; she slumped into it with little ceremony.
“Did you identify the Doomguard who committed this atrocity?”
She glanced up at him resignedly. “He came out of the Scar. Two guesses who.”
The armoured man cursed softly under his breath. “Kazzak … to think we have had all this time to dispose of that abomination.” He composed himself. “What could have been, will not.” He turned to Theluin, who had been watching the whole scene intently. “I trust you will bring this before the House of Nobles shortly.”
Theluin’s eyes betrayed no emotion. “I will do what I must, Commander.”
The officer hesitated minutely, but nodded and strode back to his administrative desk. “I will need to coordinate the Argent Dawn with immediate effect.” He glanced back apologetically. “I apologize that I must leave you both be; I trust you will look after our brave messenger here.” The last part was spoken to Theluin, who nodded reassuringly.
As he stepped up to help his odd protégée, she took hold of his arm lightly. He bent down accordingly.
“… give Dungar my sincerest apologies,” she mumbled. She paused for a moment, and then cracked a weary, wry smile. “Though he’ll probably have my hide anyway if it turns out I really did break that gryphon.”
Theluin raised both eyebrows at the latter statement, but merely smiled gently in return as he eased his young friend off the chair. She steadied herself against the bookshelf, pushing him away.
He regarded her with deep concern. “Are you sure you will be alright?”
She nodded slowly, righting herself with a grimace. “I’ll be fine. I always am.” She gave him a glance and a weak smile. “One way or another.” Bowing her head again, she stumbled out of the building.
He sighed and followed.
~||~
Several hours later, at the Blue Recluse.
“They aren’t going to listen, are they? Nothing you could ever say is going to make them listen.”
“The House of Nobles is recalcitrant. Only a direct demonstration of power would make them take any form of immediate action.”
“…”
“I will pull what strings I can manage, but the bureaucracy is unwieldy.”
“Truths of the decade right there.” A grumbled invective and a mouthful of warmed wine.
“The Argent Dawn is a powerful and wide-spanning organization. They have the resources to mobilize quickly and decisively. All they need to do is hold the breach until a proper military presence can be established.”
“And until then, they’re on their own.”
Silence prevailed.
~||~
Two days later, the monstrous visage of Highlord Kruul appeared in the sky above the Stormwind gates. In a voice that shook the earth, the Doomguard lieutenant issued his challenge to the Alliance and the world.
It would take another three days before the first dispatch of Stormwind troops was launched from the capital.
Thus began the War in Outland.
---
Originally written by Tuan Taureo
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