The moon's rays stabbed in through the canopy, standing like pillars on the forest floor. Even with so much mist hanging over the ground, the way the rays of dark light pierced the vapor caused every object, every movement to dance as if caught in a spotlight. Like a faded lamp breaking open the clouds, those weakened rays bursting in through the treetops lit up the entire trampled woodland in the deep east of Darkshore. Ironic, then, that those rays only increased the tension as the two sides stalked each other.

A column of decrepit troops decorated in the colors of the Dark Lady barely even noticed the sharp-featured fey creatures flanking them off in the distance. Barely even sentient, the hundred-strong skeletal soldiers didn't register any reaction despite the imminent threat around them. For hours, they'd marched through the woods undisturbed; their hostile hosts in the region clicked and chattered softly but hadn't yet dared to engage. Tension mounted among the few members of the living among them, only adding to the irritation tangible among the unhidden silhouettes shadowing them through the mist. Neither side seemed eager to initiate, neither side eager to test their mettle in a war of attrition. The sense on both sides that it would eventually occur anyway only increased the stress of the march.

Only a handful of soldiers on the column still walked the path of the living. Toward the front of the column of spearmen, the only two with flesh and heartbeats wondered just when, exactly, the inevitable would occur.

Of the two Darkspear men leading the way, a smaller, chattier one openly muttered his plans. "This whole thing was a set up, ya know," he said, looking up at his companion for signs of a reaction. When the other troll didn't answer, he continued trying. "I don't believe for a second what they told us back at the stronghold."

The other living spearman ignored him, instead focusing straight ahead and pretending not to watch their stalkers. Frustrated, the chatterbox continued prodding for a reaction. "Don't tell me you believing what they said, Rush. I never heard of anything like this, and it doesn't make sense." Twisting his gaunt neck around to see the creeping silhouettes over the horizon and then his unresponsive ally, the aged Darkspear continued. "I bet the people we be looking for are these, right here. Look, they wanted us to come out here."

His interlocutor communicated for the first time in half an hour, shaking his head while still looking forward. "We got orders. I didn't ask questions," he grunted dismissively.

In shock, the more talkative of the two flares up at him. "What - no. You serious? You don't even know why we're here?" The one named Rush didn't answer. "For real, you don't know what the mission is?"

"We're soldiers. Willow told Temma we're looking for people; Temma told me."

There was no addendum, no conclusion to the thought, and the chatty spearman looked practically incensed. "So you just follow orders blindly? That be it? You do anything they tell you?" Rush didn't answer, yet his silence simply couldn't end the conversation. "Rush, they say we got tree elf defectors. That's a load of kodo shit!"

Rush sneered in displeasure at the excessive questioning, but still wouldn't look down to meet his comrade's gaze. "It's not my concern," he replied tersely.

"Stop yakking!" hissed a voice from within the center of the skeletal spearmen forming a protective wall. In the middle of them all, a Blackrock grunt who slightly outranked them caught their attention with a tap of her spear. "We have hostiles in every side; something is up!"

Tematuri, a black Mag'har orc with red eyes which matched her Horde tabard, continued tapping the butt of her spear at the pair. At her side was the only sentient undead in their group, a diplomat outside the military hierarchy and thus patronizing to a fault. "You may think that I can't hear what you're saying...you may also find it in your best interest not to question orders. The General considers this mission high priority," said Willow in a raspy voice.

"I wasn't asking questions," the first troll replied defiantly. "He says he don't know why we be here; I'm trying to tell-"

"Tase, stop talking," Tematuri said while pointing at him.

"Yeah, just censor what you don't like to hear. Seriously, you can't be telling me that you actually think a bunch of tree elves want our help-"

"Tase, shut up!" Tematuri hissed frantically. Her eyes were wide and she began to look around, and even Rush finally stirred.

Through the mist, the silhouettes could be seen dashing about. Even with the sun blotted out by the twisted magic of angry Kaldorei, the sharp outlines of wolfmen could be clearly seen as they closed in. Bounding and snarling, dozens of them ran from all directions. Seemingly resigned to the lack of stealth provided by the oddly intense moonlight, the scores of lycanthrope charged in for an ugly melee. Spurred into action, the skeletons formed a protective square, facing outward and creating a wall of spears in all four directions. The usually condescending diplomat changed her tone rather quickly.

"Ambushes are easy to fend off, right?" Willow asked nervously as the snarles of the wolfmen became audible with their swift approach.

Tematuri held the Forsaken woman close to her in the center. "The General said he gave us the best; just stay with me! Tase, Rush, try to negate their command structure!"

Already by himself on the outside, Rush shook his head at Tase's false bravado and stepped away from the skeletons. The yellows of the eyes could be seen on the bestial Alliance strike force. Crawling on all fours, the wolfmen barked and snapped across the last few meters, making false charges and leaps as they tested the resolve of the skeletons. The animated piles of bones refuses to budge, displaying no fear as they maintained rank and file against the threatening displays of so many amassed worgen filling up every conceivable degree of vision.

Dew, dirt, and dust were kicked up at the wolfmen and skeleton soldiers faced each other down in what amounted to a horror writer's wet dream. The growling of the rabid worgen, combined with their back and forth false charges, contrasted so strongly with the obstinacy of the reanimated spearmen that the scene would have seem humorous were it not for the murderous intent on both sides. On the few occasions when the worgen strayed too close, the skeletons slid their spears outward like billiard cues, pulling the pole arms back and forth quickly for short stabs. Blood was drawn soon enough, irritating the worgen to the point of howling as they found themselves unable to move within striking distance of their comparatively diminutive targets.

Outside of the square was a different story. Rush provided a more intimidating target with his sentient, purposeful motion and more offensive posturing. Careful not to let any worgen move in between him and the skeletons to his back, he figuratively cut swathes into the noisy crowd of wolfmen. Foaming at the mouth in anger, those worgen in his vicinity directed their cacophony in his direction. Their frustration at their inability to close in on him grew until a few of them tried to slip behind him, leading to their swift deaths at bony, desiccated hands. The first few deaths on their side pushed the worgen over the edge, causing them to roar and spit and tear at the Greymane Royal Guard tabards they wore.

Rush felled two of them himself before the half circle which had formed around him began to back off. A third attempted to pounce on him, finding the Darkspear tank too sturdy for the all or nothing maneuver. Without even moving off balance, Rush simply skewered the wolfman in midair, shoving the beast off of the polearm once the damage had been done. A few more of the wolfmen tried the same on the skeletons only to find that the size disadvantage of the undead humans and orcs was compensated for by numbers. A few more of the worgen fell, finally forcing them to stand upright and draw weapons when savagery failed.

Falling back to the skeletons, Rush slouched low and poked furiously at the oncoming onslaught of properly armed Alliance soldiers. Once they'd evened their odds, their attention fell from him to focus on the entire formation, with the skeletons finally losing a few soldiers of their own to the slow war of attrition. Technically freed and unoccupied despite the increased risk, Rush was able to sidestep an honest charge from a royal guardsman and scan the rows of worgen for whatever the hell Tematuri wanted him to find. His search proved to be unnecessary, however, when what could be described as a living shadow lunged at him and kicked the spear from his hands.

Before the shaft even snapped, Rush instinctively shoved his attacker like a schoolyard bully and knocked the figure down. In a flash, the wolfman was back on its feet, snarling with hackles raised and snorting like a demon. An obvious alpha, the mottled worgen wasted no time in charging a second time. The command structure had found him.

"Horde scum!" the worgen hissed in crisp Orcish.

Thoroughly unimpressed, Rush eyed the long scabbard strapped to the worgen's back. "I'm gonna kill you with your own weapon," he said with disinterest as he charged too.

Though they were both unarmed, the alpha worgen had natural weapons. Its claws rent the flesh of the troll's upper arms, stinging him as the razor sharp tips managed to pierce his hide. The two of them smacked into each other, but the sudden surprise of the worgen's claws gave it the upper hand, and it pushed Rush away from the safety of the wall of skeletal spears. Rush grabbed the alpha by the throat, choking it and pulling it back toward the skeletons, causing the worgen flunkies who'd tried to swarm him to retreat temporarily. Their alpha refused to give up, scratching his hands until he let go and biting into his arm. The mass of sharp claws and teeth helped it escape from his grip, and by biting into him like a dog, the worgen alpha was able to drag Rush further away from the skeletons and into the crowd of wolfmen. And so their back and forth continued, both of them grappling rather than drawing weapons, taking turns pulling each other toward one of the two sides of spear tips in an attempt to lend their respective allies an easy kill.

Losing more blood than his opponent, Rush made a small sacrifice and let the alpha bite multiple layers of skin clean off of his arm. When it jerked back, he snaked his hands under its and clinched. With their fingers intertwined, the worgen quickly pierced his flesh with its claws again, locking their hands together. Hissing from the pain, Rush grit his teeth and dragged the worgen back to the skeletons with his own hands as anchors and his skin being pulled up by the worgen's claws like a tent. Equally matched in strength but not armament, the two of them remained halfway in between the two sides, though the troll looked worse for wear. The primitive soldier had an advantage in his thick skull and sloping forehead, however.

Waiting for the alpha's jaws to open for a fight-ending chomp, Rush reared back and then thrust forward with a headbut. His coldrock helmet slammed into the worgen's nose and teeth, shocking it beyond belief. Despite the blood dripping from his hands, Rush squeezed and pumped his grip as hard as he could, crushing the worgen's thinner fingers until joints popped and bending its wrists backwards in a high-stakes game of mercy. Without any dizziness, he headbutted the worgen again, causing its ears to ring, balance to falter, and claws to loosen. Pulling one hand free, Rush swung and punched the alpha right in the jaw with a slow, heavy uppercut that resonated so deeply down to the alpha's skull that its fellows in the area all flinched in phantom pain. The alpha worgen tumbled, collapsing to its hands and knees as it twisted. Rush grabbed the hilt sticking out of the wolfman's back scabbard mid fall, holding on and allowing an enviable greatsword to slide out. Attention temporarily moved away from the skeletons as the leader of the royal guard knelt prone.

Rush raised the blade up high. "I told you I'm gonna kill you with this," he repeated while offing the alpha execution style.

Nearly besieged behind the broken formation of skeletons, Tematuri pointed forward with her spear. "Swarm them, swarm them! Use shock and awe!" the orc yelled.

Springing into action surprisingly quick for undead, the skeletons finally took the offensive. With their leader very publicly ended and the animated bones poking at them more aggressively, the worgen fell into disarray. Paws padded away into the forest as the survivors trampled the corpses of what amounted to a third of their original numbers. The skeletons didn't pursue once the royal guard retreated, instead pulling back defensively while Willow stopped hiding behind Tematuri and surveyed the area.

"I knew we'd win," the ancient undead human said nervously.

"Check for survivors, now! We need to keep moving!" Tematuri ordered.

The skeletons swept the area wordlessly, counting quite a few lupine corpses as well as the shattered remains of a number of their own, too. Tase, having conveniently disappeared when the real fighting erupted, crawled out from behind the inner ring of spearmen.

"Well, I guess that proves this was all a hoax, then."

No sooner had he uttered those words than had Tematuri slapped him.

"Ow!"

She slapped him a few more times until he threw his head behind his hands and ran among the skeletons sorting corpses. "One more word out of you and I'll have you court martialed!" the orc snapped at him, slapping him on the back of the head as he ran away. "And remember...we...we...look!"

Though the skeletons paid no attention, Willow and Rush followed her gaze into the canopy. Dozens of pairs of glowing silver eyes peered down at them, and likely had been during the entire skirmish.