Chapter One: Enemies at the Gate

Tyrande Whisperwind sat atop her white tiger at the peak of a high mountain. Beneath her she saw the forests of Ashenvale stretching before her. They were uneasy. The birds were unnaturally quiet.

And the invaders were hewing the trees.

Although Cenarius had stemmed the greenskins once, they had returned. Now they were helped by metal clad pink skins who wielded strange weapons. Even some of the tauren had joined them.

Beneath her, Ash'alah stirred uneasily. An errant gust brought with it the scent of fire and smoke. Tyrande's blue haired flowed around her. Then she heard soft footsteps and looked down the pathway behind her.

Shandris Feathermoon made her way up the hill. The Sentinel halted some ways behind her, unsteady. "Pardon, Priestess, but you've been staring out across Ashenvale for hours."

"I sense something dark stirring within the forests, Shandies." said Tyrande. "It feels as though it is heading this way."

"The greenskins who killed Cenarius?" asked Shandris, concern in her tone.

"Perhaps," said Tyrande, "perhaps something more." Reaching out one hand, and owl came to her arm, and she sent it forth into the wildness. Watching through its eyes, she saw it come over the camp of the orcs. Many of the pink skins had joined them and begun hewing trees.

A large pink skin, with a black beard who wielded a great hammer called to his men. "Put your backs into it! Jaina and the Orc Warchief expect this base to be built swiftly!" Obviously, this one was the one in authority. Kill him, and the others would disperse.

"Bah!" snapped a pink skin. "We shouldn't even be here! Or siding with the orcs!"

"We're here to hunt the remaining demons, human." snapped an orc, one of the greenskins. "You're lucky our goals are the same!"

"Alright you men!" said the leader. "Mind your business, back to work!"

Tyrande drew back her gaze, a grim resolve flowing through her. Cenarius was dead. But she would act in his place. "So, these orcs and humans presume to run rampant through our lands? They will regret ever setting foot into Ashenvale. We deal with these outlanders as they deserve."

Together they rode down the hill and found their way towards the night elven village. As they walked, the shadowy forms of their sisters came into view behind them. More and more were among them and soon they had gathered a large warband.

The night elves were marching to war.

As they entered the village, Tyrande's eyes glazed with memory. She could remember a time when all that had been here were ancient oaks. Yet as the night elven population had grown. Tyrande had personally overseen the construction of a new village. That had been hundreds, if not thousands of years ago. The ancient of war loomed before the tree of life, while wisps worked their magic by singing wood from the trees.

"Shandies," said Tyrande, "send messengers to the nearby villages. Tell them that the time to avenge Cenarius has come."

"As you wish, Priestess." said Shandris.

Cenarius had fallen, but not before slaying three whole villages of the brutes. In the process, he had destroyed the momentum of the orcs and halted their advance. Gathering a small host of warriors, Tyrande led them into the darkness. It was time to hunt.

A group of orcs and trolls waited about the forest of Ashenvale. They stared suspiciously into the woods. The woods had been all silent since Cenarius had died, yet that did not ease their minds. For at every moment in that place one felt as though they were being watched. Judged. Yet it was their task to stand guard over the lumber mills, and they would do that.

Suddenly a maiden riding a white tiger leaped out into the moonlight. Behind her came many elven archers who opened fire. Several wolf riders fell in moments. As they urged their wolves forward they were shot full of arrows. At the same time, the trolls hurled their spears in vain. Yet they too were then peppered with arrows and left for dead.

With that done, the night elves descended upon the lumber camp in new wrath. They shot the orcs without mercy, even as they fled, they set fire to the war mill.

As the flames rose high into the night, Tyrande watched in grim satisfaction.

Yet she was not yet finished. These creatures were befouling her lands. She would not tolerate their hewing of trees. Leading her forces into the river, she waded through the chill water and headed north to a place where her scouts had detected their enemies. There they found a group of human loggers, seemingly unguarded.

Arrows flew, slaying many, as the humans fled for shelter in the building. Moving forward, Tyrande and her forces took several trees which had been hewed. They forced them up against the entrance, trapping the loggers within. She then set fire to the building. The smoke would doubtless suffocate the short-lived creatures. It would happen long before the flames would burn them if they were lucky.

For the moment, however, a force of smaller creatures came. They were riding great beasts of the sky with the bodies of lions and the heads of eagles descended. Hammers were cast down upon them, and a night elven archer near Tyrande had her skull caved in.

The archers raised their bows and fired great volleys. Their aim was true, as always, and the beasts were all shot from the sky, landing with a crash. Tyrande urged her tiger forward to where one of the riders was hauling himself away from the crash, a leg broken. He looked up in terror as she approached. "Please… don't kill me…"

Tyrande dismounted.

"Feast on this outlanders." aid Tyrande simply.

Ash'alah surged forward and mauled the creature beyond recognition. Then, tearing at the flesh the tiger feasted. When he had finished his meal, he returned to her, muzzle drenched in blood. and it nuzzled her. Tyrande scratched it behind the ears, before mounting it once more.

"Priestess Tyrande," said Shandris, "should we not return to the village? The humans and orcs may attack us there."

"Not yet," said Tyrande, "I sense that the greenskins are to the north of here, near a village of furbolgs. We shall see to them first."

They made their way north through the trees and came up the hill to see the orcs milling about. They had clapped many Furbolgs in chains, and covered in nets. The archers opened fire alongside Tyrande. Many of the orcs fell in moments. A few managed to get as far as Tyrande, but an arrow from her bow killed one of them. The other was mauled to death by Asha'lah alongside his mount.

Finally, they were all dead, and Tyrande approached the furbolgs. They were a peaceful race which had evolved under the tutelage of the night elves. They were under their protection. "Your village is safe," said Tyrande, "however I fear that in time you may come under assault again."

"You have our thanks, Priestess." their leader said. "Our chieftain bade us that should we see you; we should ask you to speak with him. He desires your aid."

"I will see what aid I may bring then." said Tyrande. "Farewell. Come Shandris, let us return to the village."

Duke Lionheart received the news as he oversaw the construction of the fort. A man rushed in, badly wounded and gasping for air. The Paladin healed him with an upraised hammer and approached him. "Easy man, what has happened."

"The elves…" he gasped, "the elves are demons! They killed all my friends; they slaughtered our orcish allies like animals! We… we've got to stop them."

"Get this man to safety." said Duke Lionhearted. "Then get together a force, we'll strike the elves back for this."

"Yes, sir."

Preparations for the assault began at once.

They made good time and returned to the area where the night elves had the strongest sway. As her forces made their way onward, Tyrande was pleased to see that a host of night elven archers. had Shandris' messengers had done their work well. Tyrande smiled in satisfaction. Then broke off to ride into the largest furbolg village in the region.

There she met the Chieftain, who greeted her kindly. "We are preparing to leave this place, Priestess. There is a terrible evil corrupting these lands, and I will not allow it to consume my people. Unfortunately, we cannot leave until the rest of our kind have been accounted for."

"Do not fear, old one." said Tyrande. "I will find your tribesmen and lead them back to you."

"Thank you, Priestess." said the furbolg. "We will reward you when you return."

Tyrande then rode back to the village and found it under attack by humans. The creatures wore heavy armor that their arrows had difficulty piercing. Fortunately, they were without order. The endless swaths of arrows felled many of them. The rest scattered and fled.

"Shandris," said Tyrande, "I require you to organize our defense in my absence. I must seek the furbolgs who reside within this forest, that they may escape these creatures."

"As you wish, Priestess." said Shandris.

Tyrande rode onwards, back the way she had come. She crossed the river and made her way north again, and came across the Furbolgs. "Your chieftain has ordered that your people will leave these lands." said Tyrande. "You should go to him at once."

The furbolgs nodded, and at once began to pack what possessions they had. Soon they began the long trek back. Tyrande did not stay to watch them go, instead sending an owl into the air to seek other Furbolgs.

Watching through the owl's eyes, Tyrande saw below a village of Furbolgs, just west of the river. Yet there was also a great many orcs nearby, felling trees and guarded by wyverns. On the wyverns were orcs with spears. They would have to deal with them.

Tyrande rode back, meaning to meet up with Shandris. Yet she found her way by a fountain of health which Tyrande had many times rested at. Shandris arose. "Priestess Tyrande, we were trying to cut the humans off at a choke point."

"There is another way the humans might take past this place." said Tyrande. "They already have a camp there. Nevertheless, it is well that you came here. I have need of your archers for another task. Follow me."

The night elves made their way through the waters. As they did so came within sight of the main orc and human encampment. The orcs rushed out to meet them, and arrows were fired at the creatures. "Withdraw!" cried Tyrande. "Pay them no heed!'

"We are to retreat?" asked Shandris.

"The time has not yet come for the death blow." said Tyrande, before riding onwards.

They scaled out of the shallowed and onto dry land where they came across the orc lumber operation. Firing their arrows, they killed all the orcish workers. Then they turned their attention to the wyvern riders. Their arrows were true, and within a few volleys, the night elves were victorious.

Finally, the war mill was put to the flame, as Tyrande rode by to speak to the furbolgs. Once she had seen that village safely on its way, she rode up to Shandris. "The time has come to return to the village for now. I doubt the humans will let the destruction of their orcish allies war mill go unpunished. We must be ready."

As they walked, however, Tyrande once again broke off. She remembered another furbolg village was. As she rode to it, she came across a human camp. Their watchman was sleeping, defenseless, and Tyrande drew a knife. It would be a simple matter to slay them.

Yet at the same time, no lumber had been felled here. And she would not have to pass through this area again to accomplish what was needed. Thus she rode past them and made her way to the furbolg village. Telling them of what needed to happen, she made her way back. As she slipped past, she noticed that the humans had awoken and noticed the furbolgs. Some unseen conversation passed between them. Then the humans allowed them to pass unmolested.

Tyrande rode the rest of the way, thinking. She scaled up the nearby mountain. From here she had watched the humans and orcs bickering before. As she did so, she found another village, which she warned of the impending exodus. Sending out a scout, she sought more furbolgs. She could find none.

Her attention was drawn away by the sounds of battle. Far below the orcs had launched an assault on the village. Several archers had been slain, yet in their place, the others shot their arrows. Many orcs fell in that first onslaught. Many more remained and as Tyrande rode back like the wind, she feared the guard might be overwhelmed.

It was not. As she came into view, she saw the last orc fall dead to the ground. Shandris came running with her archers shortly after that. Tyrande looked at her disapprovingly. "Shandris, I told you to guard the village."

"I… I am sorry Priestess." said Shandris. "I thought that with the fountain of health we might hold a defensive advantage. I did not listen."

"Warriors have paid the price for your recklessness.' said Tyrande "Do not disappoint me like this again." She then looked to the corpses of the orcs, lying dead at their feet. "Hack their heads off. Stick them on stakes outside of the village, and wrap their entrails around the stakes. Let us send a message to these creatures what happens when they contend with the night elves."

"As you wish, Priestess." said Shandris, bowing her head.

Tyrande began to roam across the wilds, looking for the last of the Furbolgs. She knew there was at least one more village near here, one small one. Yet it escaped her ancient memory where it was. It was during this time that she found herself drawn away, back to the village to aid in the defense. For the small creatures who had before rode the lion eagle things had returned. They wielding long sticks which made noises like thunder when used. Many archers died to their shots before they were pierced with many arrows. Many others were wounded.

It was within a little grove, within half a mile from the human and orcish encampment. When she found them, they were all too happy to leave their home. It seemed they had been planning to flee anyway. Thus they made their way back. Tyrande was satisfied that she had attended to her duties to the creatures of the forest. Now it was time for retribution.

Even though, she stopped by the Furbolg village, not so much out of the desire for a reward, as out of a desire to see them off. She had a vested interest in their race, after all. They were primitive, but not at all a bad sort.

"Many thanks, Priestess." said the Chieftain. "Now we can evacuate the region. Please accept the aid of our champion. He will protect your life as if it were his own."

A massive Furbolg warrior stepped forward. He loomed tall over her, even when she was on tigerback. He bowed and was still a head higher.

"Your offer is a generous one." said Tyrande, nodding her head. "May Elune light your path to safety."

With the Furbolg Champion came some other furbolg braves. Tyrande led them back. To her satisfaction, Shandris had erected the bloody example she had requested. The stakes dripped with blood. The archers assembled themselves before her, at the ready.

"We stand ready, Priestess." said Shandris.

"You have all done well." said Tyrande. "With the lumber operations destroyed, now it is the time that we restore peace to this forest once and for all. "We will wipe away the orcs and humans who plague it." She paused as she remembered the humans allowing the Furbolgs to pass. They had not made any attempt to enslave or slay them, unlike the orcs. That would have to be accounted for. "We will slay the Paladin who leads the humans and force them to retreat. If we find any women or children of the humans, we will allow them to leave unharmed."

"What of the orcs?" asked Shandris.

"Kill them all." said Tyrande with contempt. "Down to the last child. Their miserable race will pay a hundredfold for what they did to Cenarius. Onwards my warriors!"

The forces of the night elves marched out, their furbolg allies marching with them. They came to the river and marched south towards the enemy encampment. As they fell upon their enemies, Tyrande called out aloud. "Bandu thoribas, mortals! You will pay for defiling these lands!"

Then battle was joined. A force of orcs was bowed down by endless archers, but more came behind it. Orc and human joined together to assault as one and charged the archers. Yet the furbolgs barred their path and fought tooth and nail against them. Arrows blotted out the sun. Yet the humans locked their shields together and soon got into melee. Blood ran in rivers on both sides, though the enemy had by far the worst of it.

Then the Paladin arrived, and raising his hammer there was a flash of light. Many dead and wounded enemies suddenly arose in new life. Battle once again raged. Nearly a third of the furbolgs had been killed. The archers still numbered many but had suffered casualties. The enemy were mustering their other forces. If victory was not achieved soon, their casualties would be far greater.

"The Paladin!" cried Tyrande. "Turn your arrows to the Paladin! Slay him, and we will have had victory!"

The archers obeyed and launched their arrows in great volley. A shield of golden light protected him, knocking the arrows away. The battle continued. Yet the shield faded, and many black-feathered arrows shot into him. The Paladin strained to stand, before collapsing to the ground, dead.

The combat continued anyway. Tyrande knew she must withdraw.

Then everything stopped as a presence made itself known. Throughout the highlands, woodland creatures fled to hide. Stags rushed away, mad with fright. A terrible, low laugh echoed throughout the woodlands. The waters ran still. The wind ceased to blow. All combat ceased as the factions halted, looking around for the source.

Fire rained from the sky down upon the buildings of the humans. It scorched them to dust in moments as screamed echoed. Blue light appeared, as demons appeared led by a Dreadlord clad all in red.

Then came the smell of rotting corpses. Countless creatures lumbered into sight, supported by demons.

'It's the undead!' cried an orc. 'Defend yourselves!'

'They must have followed us from Lordaeron!' said a human.

The two sides turned away from the elves and rushed to battle. Terrible combat waged, and for a few moments the orcs and humans held the demons back. Then they were overwhelmed and slain the man. Cries of fear and terror were everywhere. A child screamed in the night.

From where they stood, sheltered by their enemies, Tyrande watched in shock and horror. An archer stepped forward. 'Elune save us! The dead advance in waves!'

'Quickly my sisters,' said Tyrande, 'back to the trees! We are no match for a force this vast!'

She only prayed she could defeat this new enemy as well as the orcs and humans.

Authors Note:

So much for mercy, I guess.

For those who are just joining us, welcome to the Mercyverse. It is an alternate universe — one where the protagonists of Warcraft III avoid destroying good aligned bases. Then we see how this titular mercy plays out. We've already had three installments so far, two of which are already complete. If you're interested checkout Mercy of the Damned, Colonization of Kalimdor, and Wrath of the Light.

Part of the problem with this mission is that to the night elves; trees are people too. So the active lumber harvesting is something that has to be stopped. This convinced me that I could not actually align Tyrande's actions with that of a mercy run — especially given the actions of the night elves in Colonization of Kalimdor.

The night elf campaign outright requires you to destroy good bases, and spare bad ones at least until Illidan shows up. At which point he does massive damage to the Legion in one mission. More than everyone else in the campaign has done put together.

As soon as I started writing Tyrande, I realized that there was no way I was going to be able to make her at all sympathetic. So I made her an arrogant psychotic then ran with it.

I wanted to make the night elves into something other than the Ms. Fanservice of Azeroth. I wanted to make them legitimately badass, and dare I say it, terrifying. So I decided to portray them as honest to god barbarians. People who do things like put heads on stakes and wrap the defeated's entrails around it.