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In Orgimmar...

The alarm ran throughout the darkened Orc city, punctuated by the screams of the dying echoing across canyon walls, "We're under attack!"

Everywhere, green skinned, ivory tusked Orc warriors, both men and women, grabbed sharp, wicked looking battle axes, spears, heavy hammers, small hand cannons, and anything else within reach they could turn into a weapon in response to the unnatural intruders. They were joined by azure skinned Trolls, ten foot Tauren warriors, and every other resident and denizen of the Horde capital of Orgrimmar. Warriors of every discipline, wakened by the cry, poured out of Orgrimmar's savage looking, blood colored, spiked buildings to meet this new threat on their feet as the proud warriors they were, to stand or die with their honor intact.

"FOR THE HORDE!" The battle cry went up as those warriors charged at vile shapes of Shadowy darkness, and sharp, well used axes and swords slashed at tendrils of Void that rose up from the ground beneath them to grab and paralyze them. Flashes of lightning leaped from the fingertips of shaman towards their foes. Well aimed arrows and bullets flew towards their black tar like targets.

The Void creatures rose up and attacked in the middle of the Durotar night as most of the city war sleeping except for those guards patroling the streets and those for whom the night was their most active time. Inky, black tentacled obscenities, alien in appearance seemed to come from nowhere out of the darkness of the caverns of the city as the Shadows came alive. They struck at unsuspecting Mages, Rogues, and other practitioners of the disciplines the Orcs considered less than honorable and had relegated to the Cleft of Shadows; the natural cavern deep within and beneath the stone of the city's canyon walls. The Void fissure which spawned them had been hidden from all still deeper within the abandoned cavern beneath the city known as Ragefire Chasm, unknown to everyone until it was too late. The cries of the dying alerted the guards outside the cavern in the cleft known to everyone as "the Drag."

In the middle of the chaos, within the upper loft of the Broken Tusk inn, more than a dozen Orcs in heavy plate armor wearing the white and grey star burst tabard of the Argent Crusade responded to the call to arms, unslinging their own heavy and powerful hammers and double bladed battle axes. Tharok had arrived with his other Orc brothers earlier in the evening by portal from Light's Hope Chapel. It had been his intention to seek out Supreme Lord Saurfang and address him and the other leaders of his people in Grommash Hold, but the proper time for audiences was over by then, he was not of high enough rank or reputation among his own people to impetuously enter and demand an audience with him without answering for it with his head.

Born into the Frostwolf Clan in Alterac Valley not long after the second war, the braided black haired Orc had fought alongside the likes of Highlord Tirion Fordring and Lord Maxwell Tyrosus in Icecrown during the Northrend campaign, and had shed blood with Elven, human, Tauren, and Dwarven brothers in arms alike against the Scourge forces again and again. But he had fought under the flag of the apolitical Argent Crusade rather than that of the Horde. His clan had repudiated the call of the Horde when it had allied itself with the unholy, undead Forsaken, but when the Argent Crusade had been formed under the human Tirion Fordring, a human known to them to be honorable and without prejudice, Tharok had joined them feeling their cause was more noble and more worthy of his ax.

All of the warriors had been stationed at Hearthglen when Jeshua healed and taught. Tharok had listened to what the human teacher had to say and it had spoken to him like few others did. He had been an eyewitness of the man's healing power again and again, and had taken his words to heart. He had walked by "The Teacher's House" when on patrol, noticing the soft golden glow of Holy Light which had radiated off of it. When they had told him what the teacher had done to heal the world, he did not doubt it. He would have expected no less from the young human who never seemed to take any thought for himself or his own well being. There was a courage and an honor about him that seemed almost "orcish" to the warrior. He had been the first among those Orc warriors to respond to the Highlord's summons when it reached Hearthglen, though not one of the Paladins, and he had been one of the first to receive the cup when it had been offered to those not consecrated as holy knights. He came to Orgrimmar bearing a silver chalice in his waist pack, and a message to their people.

In spite of the weight of their armor, with a great battle cry Tharok and his men leaped from the second floor of the inn into the open air of its center landing hard on its ground floor, splintering the wooden floorboards as they did, and rushed out the door to meet their enemy. Neither the innkeeper, Gryshka, nor the barkeep, Morag, said anything. They had already grabbed their own weapons and were already in the streets putting them to good use.

Outside the inn, darkness was everywhere. The sky overhead held no stars, and only dark, violet lightning across even darker clouds gave any illumination other than the fires lit in braziers and torches around the Orc stronghold. The shadows of the night around them appeared to have risen up taking grotesque, unnatural forms that Tharok had seen before in Northrend and had hoped to never see again. Orcs fought against blackened creatures almost indistinguishable from the night itself.

The smell of smoke filled the air as Tharok turned to see what looked to be a shop building south of the Broken Tusk catch fire and begin to burn. The flames however produced no good light to see by, but were like the lightning above, violet, dark, and evil looking. His ears however could hear the fire lick against the wood of the structure, consuming it hungrily. His first thought had been to run towards it to see if there was anyone in it. As he ran towards it, he heard the walls of the building crack, and then they collapsed inwards, and the sound of the flames became a roar as the shop was consumed. Seeing there was nothing more he could do, he hoped that if anyone had been in it they too had answered the city's call to arms and been out of it. He then turned his attention back to the Void invaders.

Tharok chose his first target at random, a huge monstrosity of darkness with tentacles and two apparent legs. He roared a challenge at it and charged it, leaping with his ax to bring it down on the void creature's head, wherever that might have been. Landing solidly on his feet, he brought his ax around, swinging at the creature's torso with all his strength intending to cleave it in two and send it back to the abyss from which it was spawned.

The creature responded with a powerful tentacle of void energy lashing out at him and striking him across the back plate of his armor viciously, throwing him a good distance onto his chest and knocking the wind from the Orc.

"Is that the best you can do, monster?!" Tharok growled, getting up with his ax and charging at it again, driving the edge of his blade into the creature's midsection yet again, pulling it away then to come around for another killing stroke like a graceful, lethal dance he had practiced many times, his massive Orc muscles giving ample power to the blow.

And then he saw the wound he had made in the creature repair itself, sealing up as though he had made no mark whatsoever. Around him, he then saw the same with his comrades and Orgrimmar's other defenders. Good warriors lay wounded, paralyzed, or dead on the ground, but there were no fallen invaders.

"What kind of evil is this?" He asked aloud. "How can we defeat such an enemy?"

The battle belongs to the Light. He heard a voice. It sounded familiar, and he turned one way and then the other looking for the source but could see no one addressing him.

In front of him, the creature lashed out again with a tentacle and Tharok responded quickly, severing the limb from its host then watching in frustration and anger as it regrew, and the thing came at him again.

The battle belongs to the Light, Tharok! Only true Light can drive out the darkness! The voice spoke to him again. And the second time, he recognized it.

"Teacher?" He asked aloud as he avoided another lashing by the void monster in front of him. The creature howled an unnatural, terrifying cry at him which made him want to panic and run, but he held his ground, his Orc stubbornness refusing to budge.

Trust me, Tharok! You can't win this with your ax alone! Let my Light be your ax and your armor or this darkness will consume you all! Jeshua's voice came to him again.

Tharok considered this quickly as he swung once more, making contact only to see the deep wound heal again without a mark.

"Whatever, you're going to do, Teacher, I pray then that you do it!" Tharok responded. "My ax is yours to command!"

Together then, my warrior! Jeshua's voice responded.

"Together, Teacher!" Tharok shouted in agreement.

And then the Orc warrior felt a warmth, calmness, and quiet, joyous power flow into him like he had never experienced. In the darkness his armor and ax began to glow with a pure, white Light that shone like a beacon in the enveloping, living night.

The creature he had been fighting then backed away from him as though in pain at the brightness. Filled with an energy he hadn't ever known, the Orc then pressed his attack, screaming, "For the Light!" He leaped once more, bringing the blade of his ax, blazing with the Holy Light, down on the creature's head. As the blade's edge made contact, the creature's body burst into flames where it rendered it in two. The ax cut a path through the monster like fire through ice, and the shadow creature was consumed by the holy fires of the Light.

"THE BATTLE BELONGS TO THE LIGHT, MY BROTHERS!" Tharok cried out to his brothers in arms of his discovery. "Call on the Teacher! Call on the Holy Light! He will answer you!"

And then, both with and beyond his volition, Tharok slammed his fist into the hard packed dirt ground of Orgrimmar as if to dramatically emphasize his point. Where it struck, pure streams of Light shot out across the ground, consecrating it and setting those void creatures caught in its path ablaze until they ceased to be. Around him, those fallen and mortally wounded defenders began to heal and rise from where they fell wherever the Light touched them.

Around him, he heard his fell Argent Crusade warriors cry out, "For the Light! For the Teacher!"

And then the streets of Orgrimmar lit up with pure radiant Light as those dozen or so Crusade warriors called on the Holy Light to defeat the unholy monsters of the Void which had attacked the Horde capital. With renewed vigor, they slammed into the creatures that had escaped the first wave of holy consecration, purging them with holy flames and their Light filled weapons.

Tharok battled his way towards the entry of Grommash Hold where a handful of defenders were still standing but injured and exhausted from the seemingly unstoppable Void enemies. Among them was a gray haired orc in fearsome, spiked, blood red plate armor, a fanged skull adorning his waistplate. His own battle ax, forged to resemble a human skull joining the two blades in the center, continued to swing hard at his void foes. The twin warrior's braids of his hoary head lashed back and forth like whips as he laid into the inky nightmares with all the vicious ferocity he could muster for attacking his kith and kin. But he too could not help but notice the futility of it as his enemy grew no weaker, even as his own strength waned with every continued stroke.

Raising his battle cry once more, Tharok leaped into the fight in front of him, striking the alien tentacled creatures, and setting them ablaze with his Light filled ax. His ax swung, and wherever it touched, darkness dissolved in holy flames. His armored fist struck, and the impact produced bursts of pure radiant glory. He roared triumphantly at the dark creatures and they fled from before the Holy Light which shone from his armor.

Varok Saurfang, seeing his immediate foes destroyed, sank to one knee in exhaustion. Bloody red marks stained the green skin of his aged face. Tharok, unsure of why, approached him and laid his left hand on his shoulder. As he did, a warm, peaceful, healing energy passed through and into the Orc leader. A renewed energy filled him, and the visible wounds on his face healed quickly within seconds.

"Your timing couldn't have been better, Sunwalker." Saurfang said before he caught a better look at the warrior. When he did, his eyes went wide, "Never have I seen one of our own bear the powers of a Paladin before."

"I am no Paladin, my lord." Tharok responded, helping the supreme lord to his feet.

"Could've fooled me." Saurfang replied gruffly, then seeing Tharok's companions nearby charge the void monsters once more alongside warrior the Orc leader had seen fall. "Whoever you are, you will have my thanks and the thanks of Orgrimmar should we all live through this. It's like the blackest night has come alive to destroy us."

"My lord, we were sent by the Highlord of the Silver Hand to deliver Jeshua's message to our people, and to offer the cup of his pact to anyone who wants it." Tharok then told him.

"The Warchief sent me word someone would be coming." Saurfang responded. "Along with a strange written Night Elf hallucination about the end of the world."

"It is no hallucination. It is happening." Tharok then told him, gesturing with his armored gauntlet towards the raging battle. Not far from him, his brother warriors continued their Light born assault against the darkness. "There is only one way of escape."

"Sent from the Highlord, wielding Holy Light like a warhammer, and yet not Paladins." Saurfang remarked at the sight. "I have seen stranger things in my time, but not many. Maybe the Light knows something you don't, warrior."

"It is the Teacher Jeshua who gave us this power to fight the darkness." Tharok replied to him.

Grunting in acknowledgment, but with a respectful look in his eyes at the mention of Jeshua's name, he gripping his battle ax tightly in one hand. Then Saurfang replied, "You and your men help me drive this void infestation from this city, and I swear to you I'll be the first to drink our victory from this cup!"

Then the older Orc shouted loudly in challenge, "FOR THE HORDE!" And leaped once more against the creatures of darkness.

Within himself, he heard the Teacher's voice once more, You heard the man, bring my Light to your people!

"At your command, Teacher." Tharok responded, and then filled with the Holy Light, he too charged into the melee of darkness once more, flashing radiant Light with every stroke of his ax.

In Elwynn Forest...

The unnatural storm of darkness over the human capital flashed the dark, violet lightning continuously as it radiated out from a central axis above the city's heart. What was more, it appeared to have grown in the hours Grayson, Anduin, and the Highlord had spent in Goldshire with the hamlet's people and all those brought from the farms and homes surrounding it. Its arms extended out now past the city's fortified walls and well over the forests and highways of Elwynn, plunging it into an unnaturally dark night. The stars could not be seen, and neither could Elune give her gentle light even though the men knew the White Lady should have been full.

They had waited, lighting torches, candles, and lanterns to bring more light to the village center. While they waited, they taught the people who arrived what they could and what they knew of Jeshua. They used the emissary's book that the Highlord had brought with him and recalled from their own experiences. They did this for several hours until everyone who had gone off had returned either with or without those they went to bring. Those from the houses around the town came first, followed by those from the Stonefield's farm and the Maclure Vineyards. A hundred armored troops from the garrison at Westbrook came after that responding to Anduin's command and mounted on barded war horses. Then came those few residents which had still remained at Northshire Abbey, Marshall McBride and his troops followed by a half dozen others also responding to knews of their king's return. The last to arrive were dozens from the eastern borders of the province, the Eastvale Logging Camp who had come on horseback.

King Anduin Wrynn knew roughly how many people resided in the northern province of his kingdom. Outside of Stormwind, there had been approximately eight to ten thousand people. In the assembled crowd, as he took a mental head count, he estimated there might have been a tenth of that assembled in the village center.

"What happened to all the people?" The king asked aloud, standing next to the front of the inn. "There should be ten times this many."

A man with shaggy dark brown hair and beard, wearing a blacksmith's apron over a black colored vest heard Anduin's question and responded, "People have been disappearing all over Elwynn, your majesty. A lot of our people were taken in the sweeps to the Stockades, with others it was just like they walked into the woods one day and never came back. Most of those taken by the guards were accused of being Jeshua's followers by the Priest whether they were or not." The man glanced briefly at the armored soldiers who had arrived.

Another woman from the Stonefield's farm added, "Not everyone's come. My brother didn't believe you was here, your majesty, nor anything about what I saw. I tried to tell him, but he refused to set foot out of the house for the dark things in the forest lately. Them shady folks at the Blackwell's farm, they ain't here neither nor them Mages in the tower down the road."

Frustrated, the king wanted to go to each and every house in that province and personally explain their situation to them, but from deep within himself he knew that there was no time. He couldn't force them to see reason. Finally, within himself, Anduin then let those that wouldn't come go. There was simply nothing more he could do.

"If they won't come they won't come and they will bear the consequences for it." He said aloud.

But what about the people who she said disappeared? What about the people taken to the Stockades? The prison can't hold the entire population of Elwynn and people don't just disappear without cause. Anduin became increasingly uneasy and disturbed at the implications.

He then approached the guard captain who had just returned with the garrison's troops. When the cohort saw him, each man saluted and took a knee in submission to their king.

"Captain." Anduin addressed him directly. "What happened to the prisoners taken from Goldshire and the surrounding area?"

"Your majesty, they were taken to the Stormwind Stockades as we were ordered." He responded.

"All of them?" Anduin wanted more than that. "None were taken to Westbrook to be questioned?"

"No, your majesty. We were ordered to bring them to the City Stockades and nowhere else. They were turned over to the Stockade wardens. We never saw them after that." The captain replied sincerely.

Something isn't right. Anduin thought. Nothing about any of it was right, he then realized, but the numbers weren't adding up. If what the guard said was true, the Stockades should have people literally stacked one on top of another and still be bulging at the seems.

And then a terrible thought occurred to him. "Did you witness any executions?"

"No, your majesty. None public anyways. I can't say there weren't any, but my men and I never saw any firsthand." He answered.

Thank the Light for that at least. Anduin breathed a short sigh of relief. He would get to the truth when they left Goldshire for Stormwind, and it wouldn't be soon enough.

"I did see prisoner transfers though, your majesty." The guard then offered. "Prisoners in chains being led to somewhere in the Mage's district. I saw some also being taken to the Cathedral District. I had assumed it was for more questioning by the Priests there. I honestly can't even guess why they would have been taken to the spell chuckers though."

Prisoner transfers to the Mage's District? A chill went up Anduin's spine as his mind involuntarily recalled with disgust everything that a living being could be used for in spell conjuration.

The earth beneath his feet shook and rumbled for a few brief moments before subsiding again.

Seeing that everyone had answered the call who was going to, a table had been brought outside from the inn, and the cup was made ready. Grayson poured a Dalaran Noir wine from the inn's bar into the cup, and praying over it as he had seen Jim do, he explained the meaning of the pact and offered it to everyone who had come. Just as the emissary had witnessed in Lordaeron, no matter how many people sipped from the cup, the level of wine in it never dropped until everyone present had sipped from it, sealing their own pact with the Holy Light through Jeshua Lightborn.

It was well into the evening when the last person had sipped from the cup, the young boy who had run from the sight of the Highlord, having been brought back by a neighbor who had taken him in. Anduin had discovered that the boy's parents, both of them, had been taken to Stormwind City days ago and had not been seen since.

After the cup had been passed and the rite had been performed, the king of Stormwind then approached the garrison soldiers and told them to make ready to ride to the city that night. He would not stand for any more innocents disappearing from his kingdom. He accepted a jet black stallion with full barding armor from his troops, and led two more over for Grayson Shadowbreaker and the Highlord to take their reins.

After careful consideration however, the Highlord of the Silver Hand told the king and the emissary, "I can't just leave them here to fend for themselves. I'm going to stay here to look out for the people. The darkness is still out there, and there still might be some who would straggle in. Take the cup with you. If need be, we can use a goblet from the inn. I don't think it'll matter as long as its prayed over."

The king nodded in acknowledgment, respecting his decision. His own responsibility lay north in the city.

"Walk in the Light, my lord." Grayson told him, saluting him with his fist over his breast. "Call on Jeshua if the village comes under attack again. He will answer." He told him sincerely.

"I will." the Highlord responded.

Once more the earth trembled under their feet.

"We really don't have much longer, do we?" The Paladin then asked, feeling the tremor. "They're getting more frequent."

"Good luck." Anduin told him in response, knowing that the question didn't really need to be answered. They all felt the same thing. They didn't have long at all. "May the Holy Light shine on us all tonight."