"Form up ye lazy peons!!" Urtok, Sergeant of the Kor'kron guards brings his squad of elite warriors to attention. The scarred and battle hardened veteran of a thousand wars grins proudly to himself through his glistening tusks. His company is the best that the Horde has to offer, and his Warchief knows it.
Before him the sounds of battle and screams of anguish have subsided from within the confines of the Arena. Bloodied survivors still amble forth from the doorway like a macabre parade of gore and carnage. Shell shocked survivors with massive claw marks, and limbs that have been ripped from their bodies. The veteran sergeant has seen it before, there is no doubt in his mind that a demon lord is now waiting for them within the walls of the sacred fighting arena.
"Sargint, whadda ya suppose is in dere?" one of the warriors says with a growl.
Looking back with a toothy grin across his face, the sergent replies with a chuckle "Whuteva it is, we er gonna send it back to da hell eet came frum."
Urtok gazes once more at the ghostly arena before him, and with grim determination on his face he orders his company forward. A wall of green flesh and glinting iron marches up the slope and into the bloody arena, stepping on corpses and entrails as the push their way into the darkness. The Sergeant looks up to the dark, night time sky just in time to see the silhouette of a large bird fly in front of the face of the moon. The crows must be hungry, he thinks to himself, if they are gathering so soon for the feast.
As they enter the vast confines of the colliseum the groans and sobs of the dying rise in a morbid crescendo. Bodies lay strewn about the building like bloody puppets tossed by a careless child.
To their relief, there is no sign of a demon lord, or even who might have carried out this hellish massacre.
"Kor'kron, moov out!! Serch dah buildin. Bring meh any servivers!!" Urtok shouts with authority.
The stalwart band of Orc guardsmen begin to fan out through the arena in almost drilled precision. Their warrior focus and attention drawn like the razors edge of their battle axes.
"Urtok, eet don't smell like ah Doomlord has ben in ere" the corporal of the company says as he sniffs the air like a wolf "All ey smell is dah blood."
"Yar!" Urtok replies "Be on yer guard corporal. Dey is full of tricks"
A warrior shouts from the far end of the arena, startling every one of the guardsmen. "Sergent!! Ey found somewon dat isn't urt er dead!!"
The hulking sergeant strides quicking down the bloody rows of seats, stepping on bodies and entrails as he goes. There in the center of the arena he sees her. A tauren woman stands holding a dead child. Though she seems to be splattered with blood and gore, she is untouched.
"Whut happened ere woman!! Tell meh quickly so dat we can find da monster!!" Urtok barks out to the tauren.
Charibdys raises her head slowly and glares at the Orc with hatred and disgust in her tear filled eyes. "You are the monster." she whispers through bared teeth.
Looking up past the sergeant to the entryway she sees the mighty Warchief Thrall and his assorted advisors enter the building with their weapons at the ready.
"You!!" she shouts as she points to Thrall. "You are the monster! You let this happen. What kind of Warchief allows the children of his people be used in this way!!"
The sergeant springs forward to tackle the hysterical woman. No one speaks to his Warchief in such a fashion. As he does, a massive wave of water seems to come from out of nowhere, knocking Urtok as his guards backwards. The wave washes over the blood soaked benches of the arena, causing a torrent of slippery entrails and bodies to pour back downward like a morbid log jam.
Suddenly Charibdys turns into a large brown crow, and grabs the corpse of the child in her steely talons. As the guardsman rush forward again, she leaps into the air and flies out the open ceiling of the arena.
"What is she talking about?" Thrall says in astonishment.
The bewildered guards and advisors stand in stunned silence, pondering the scene they just witnessed.
"Uh, Warchief..." Eitrigg says cautiously as he looks at his horrified brother. "I think I might be able to shed some light on this."
Thrall looks at his trusted advisor in bewilderment
"Kor'kron!!" Thrall shouts "Close the gates, lock down the city. No one is to leave. Send word to Hamuul, find out who that druid was. Summon my advisors and aids. I want speak to them immediately!!"
Thrall turn to Eitrigg with a growl "You have some explaining, old friend." he says as he turns and strides out of the arena.
Down on the arena floor Urtok looks in disgust at his so called elite guardsmen.
"Move yer tails ya snivling peons!! You heard the warchief!!" he barks.
With determined precision they move out to alert the rest of the city, and carry out Thrall's orders.
"hehe So sarge, dat lady druid did ah numba on you. I nevah saw ya knock'd off yer feet ba'fore. Har har har!" the brutish corporal says with a toothy grin.
The dripping Sergeant turns and glares at his subordinate, before smiling through his glimmering tusks.
"Corp'rol, you find sum peons and git dis mess cleaned up!" he growls and he turns and heads towards the door.
Off in the distance a lonely signal can be heard. It is the sign that the zepplin to Northrend is loaded, and about to depart into the cold night sky.