When a mortor shell hit not two feet in front of me, I payed it no mind. When the blast of that mortor sent a solid sheet of iron flying through the air to lop my left arm clear from my shoulder, I payed it no mind. When one of the Forsaken soldiers in my company started dragging me from the battlefield, I payed it no mind. When that Forsaken soldier turned into some form of bird creature all with the tell tale signs of Shadow Illusionary magic, I started to pay some mind. That was when it hit me, and by 'it' I mean the hilt of the creatures dagger to my skull. Speaking optamisticly, at least recieving blunt head trauma can give you some much needed sleep.

My sleep, however needed, was not a peaceful rest though. Images flashed within my mind; gravestones but shaped in an unfamiliar fashion -flash- Orcs channeling the Shadow as easily as I -flash- Draenei shining with the foolishness of the Light -flash- some form of creature made of pure Light energy -flash- the same Dreanei from before but this time dead in pools of dark blood with the Orcs from before standing over them -flash- the same energy creature as before but this time ablaze with the brilliance of the Shadow. All of this set to the tune of screaming. A pleasant fear filled screaming that made the soul ache with its beauty.

When I awoke I did so slowly, it had been nearly sixteen hours since I had last slept and even my decayed body could feel the comfort of the soft cotton beneath me. The last thing I remembered was being taken off the battlefield by some bird-like creature. If anything I should have awoke in a cookpot not a soft cotton. I openned my eyes and was not suprised to see a semi-familiar beaked and feathered face glaring down at me.

"You have awoken I see," the creature spoke in Orcish even if it did have a decently accented voice "it has only been three hours since I brought you back to camp. I had expected you to sleep for at least six but I know not the sleeping habits of your kind."

It would seem the bird creature liked to talk. Might as well play along, just because I didn't wake up dying doesn't mean they wont try to kill me.

"To be honest I don't actually require sleep. It is simply a habit from life that is hard to get rid of and I have given no effort to do so."

I spoke plainly but slowely. I had been told before that my Orcish had an accent to it and I can't be sure of this creatures grasp of the language to understand me despite it. Sitting up as I spoke I was relieved to see that they had left my robes on, although they did remove my pauldrons.

"I have not seen your kind before," the creature stated as it gestured to me with a clawed hand "you are undead yet not mindless. You channel the Shadow within you just as we do though, and you fight against the Orcs that threaten us."

I knew I saw Shadow magic. Are these bird-creatures followers of the Shadow? If so, it could only be the Shadow's divine guidance that brought me to them. Or rather them to me. I felt a wicked grim cross my features and the bird creature cocked its head at me.

It was also at this moment that I realized I was missing my left arm. A decently clean cut at least, separated almost perfectly at the shoulder with the wound reaching into the torso by only a few inches. If I had been living when I received such trauma I would have died for sure, if I had been living when I did a lot of the things I've been doing recently I would be dead for sure. Such constraints no longer applied to me. I could, however, feel that my life energy had been drained significantly. Feeling the life force of creatures was a trait those who used healing magic often picked up simply out of experience; although the workings of the Shadow are mainly harnessed to destroy I had used it to heal enough that I found myself gaining the trait as well. A very useful ability, especially in situations such as this where immediate Forsaken care is not readily available. I had watched many a Forsaken soldier shrug off critical injuries only to embrace true death shortly after because their broken bodies could not hold enough life energies to support their soul before the importance of it sunk in.

I am not at life threatening levels of depletion but it would be of my best interest to hasten my restoral as soon as I can. I turn to regard the bird creature for a moment. It has used Shadow magic to create an illusion that I did not see through, that would imply that he has a skilled grasp of the Shadow's application. Simply draining and eating the creature would certainly get me back into fighting shape but something tells me I could get more use out of these people than a choice meal. "Tell me... creature," I intoned slowly "do your people revere the Shadow? Can I count you among my brothers in the Dark Truth?"

The bird twitched its head at my words as if considering their exact meaning before raising a clawed hand that flickered with dancing shadows and speaking: "We are the Arakkoa. We are outcasts, cursed and considered heretics by the rest of our species for our devotion to the Shadow. Hunted we are reduced to hiding in any hole we can find to survive. Now the Orcs and Draenei march to war and we find strangers from another world killing those who would kill us. I, Raithic, Talonpriest of the Arakkoa, watched as free willed undead fought alongside green skinned Orcs to kill those of the Iron Horde. I watched as one among them channeled the Shadow to destroy those before him. I sensed an opportunity for a potential ally so I masqueraded as one of the dead and waited for a chance to speak with you. Your injury upon the battlefield was as opportune a moment as any I had gotten since joining your number."

"You have my thanks then," I stated giving a slight bow to the bird "being incapacitated as I was staying at that killing field would not have been good for my continued existance. Do you know if the troops I had with me survived the conflict?"

"I do not," Raithic answered as he helped me to my feet and turned away to peer outside the small purple tent as I equipped the rest of my gear that had been neatly placed beside the bed "they continued to push forward after I began dragging you back. It seemed like they were going on continue pushing west even if Grommash himself stood in their way."

"Sounds about right," I finished buckling the left pauldron to my more than halfway missing shoulder and reached for my Mage-fire Staff only to realize for the first time that it was not there. My staff is gone. Do the birds think that by taking my staff they have disarmed me? If they practice the Shadow then they know that I need no staff to be a threat. No, taking my staff would only heighten my sense of paranoia or mistrust of them. It would be counter-productive for them if they are truly seeking allies like he said. The staff must have been lost upon the battlefield; a sad fact indeed for it had been a gift. Yet another reason to make the Iron Horde die a slow and painful death.

"Come."

The bird beckoned for me to follow him out of the tent after I had finished checking over myself. "Walk with me through the camp and I will tell you more of us," Raithic continued "perhaps you may tell me more of you and your people as well."

It was a dangerous string of words that. First, he gave me a command. There are only a select few people who can give me commands and none of them are living. Second, he is insinuating that simply by telling me information on their desolate and hunted people I would reveal any information about the glorious and powerful force that is the Forsaken. It was simply not an equivalent exchange and to imply that it was is an insult. Not just to me but to all Forsaken. These Arakkoa believe themselves to be the equal of the Shadow's chosen people do they? Let us see.

"Lead on," I said darkly "I will take pleasure in hearing the tale of your people."

The bird twitched its head at me again. It seemed to be confused by my tone. Good, if I can keep them confused then they can't predict me. Being unpredictable is the same as being dangerous. Even when all of the odds are stacked against you or when you are powerless compared to those who threaten you if you are unpredictable they will view you as dangerous. We need allies within these strange lands, these Arakkoa will be as good as any and the extent of their Shadow practice has yet to be seen. Perhaps they could even be used as a weapon.

We walked through the camp of Arakkoa at a slow pace. Raithic spoke at length about the plight of his people yet taking care to emphases the tenacity and strength of his people's will to survive. He was trying to impress me and wasn't being discrete about it. I did give his story attention as such information is key to forming an alliance between us but it was not their struggle for survival that truly changed my perspective of the creatures. They were not simply dabblers into the arts of the Shadow, no, rather every member of their camp seemed to be well versed in its use. They held artifacts of power and tomes of knowledge in every tent. The Arakkoa within each carried the touch of the Shadow and the darkness around them rested contently. While nothing compared to the grand majesty within the Cult held sections of the Undercity it was a beautiful sight none the less. Perhaps I had found more than simple tools to use against the Iron Horde in these creatures; perhaps I have found a society that may actually be sibling to us in the Shadow - a younger weaker sibling that is. Who knows, given time we may even grant them the gift of undeath and deliever them into true oneness with the Shadow.

I contemplated this while Raithic continued to speak until a glint of brown flesh caught my eye. Two of the Arakkoa had an Orc strung up on a pole and hanging from his hands. They seemed to be whispering to each other in front of him and I couldn't hear their conversation from where I am, "Raithic," I spoke up causing the bird to stop and peer at me down his beak "what are those two doing with that Orc over there?" I asked gesturing toward the pair.

"They captured that Orc scout very close to this camp." Raithic answered and continued, "I believe they are still debating what to do with him. If I know those two as well as I think I do Falsava is wanting to simply kill the Orc and be done with it while Devora wants to use the Orc as a catalyst in a spell."

"Allow me to offer a solution to the debate." I stated plainly as I began to walk towards the tied up Orc the two debating Arakkoa stopping their chirpish chatter as I approached and fixing me with surprisingly intense eyes. I felt more than heard Raithic approaching behind me as I enganged in a mental sparring match against the two female Arakkoa. How I knew they were female without hearing their voices and having no easily identified gender differences among the bird creatures I could not say. Rather I simply felt the female presence within the Shadow emitting from them. The Shadow favored them and they were powerful for it.

"Falsava, Devora, allow me to introduce Thantis Grimurwing," Raithic spoke beside me no doubt well aware of the noiseless invisible mental lock I had found myself in "a dead man from another world who practices the Shadow just as we."

"More than just practices Raithic," the Arakkoa on the left spoke with a ginger tone "the Shadow lives within this one. He is lost in its embrace."

"And what a loving embrace it is," I finished for her giving a slight bow to the two "it is always a pleasure to meet more followers of our most beloved Shadow."

"A pleasure indeed," the one on the right spoke this time "what is it that brings you before us... Thantis?"

"This fellow here," I answered gesturing to the Orc on the pole who looked down at us with a grimace "I was wondering if I could use him."

The two female Arakkoa looked at each other for a moment before taking a step back with a "of course." The Orc regarded me with a dark glare, defiance in his eyes, but spoke no words. I lifted my only remaining clawed hand and watched with a grim smile as the shadows stirred, spun, and darkened in my palm. Even here on this strange world the Shadow answers my call as it always has. "Now, Orc," I said smoothly as I raised the ball of Shadow for him to see "this is going to hurt... a lot."

The Devouring Plague of the Shadow always has a lovely affect on those who it is used against. It always starts with a horror creeping over them, their face twisting in shock before a primal scream is torn from them. Oh how that made my soul vibrate with pleasure. Such a beautiful scream no matter the source. Followed by the phsyical manifestations of your soul and mind slowly being devoured. The Orc's eyes began to bleed as he screamed and thrashed against his bonds and the color of his skin quickly went pale. After a few moments the screaming stopped and he went limp; the life energies of the freshly departed flowing into me and rejuvinating my essance with its shadow-touched bliss.

I could hear the Arakkkoa giving chirpish laughs behind me. "Most entertaining Thantis," Falsava said joining me to my left to regard the dead Orc "I wanted him dead quick while Devora thought that would be a waste when we could use him for our magic. You seemed to give us both."

"The pleasure was all mine," I responded with a slight bow to the three birds and as I did a few familiar voices began to float from the communications device on my hip. It carried a little static but I could make out what they were saying easily enough, they wanted to regroup and figure out our current status. Things are going well. "It would seem I am wanted elsewhere but fear not my new friends. I shall return as soon as I can."

The three Arakkoa looked at each other as if debating whether or not to let me leave before Raithic spoke up "we will await your return then."

"But first," I said with a smile "let me clean up my mess."

The taste of shadow-corrupted Orc flesh was as pleasant as ever.