saeren

With a foothold in Silvermoon City and Eitrigg taking care of the heavy lifting, Ezra has turned his attention elsewhere for a time. With a ritual circle open on one of the rare untapped places of power still available in Eversong Woods, the mage casts his telepathic communion spell and reaches out to contact the mind of the tauren shaman, Kagarn.

Saeren's eyes flutter open to the blurred sight of a white-robed dwarf bending over her. She's lying in a cot inside a tent - apparently the field hospital on the Maker's Terrace. Her right arm and left hip are still throbbing where the rifle balls struck them. "How are ye feelin', lass?" asks the dwarven priest.

With Angor Fortress contained, the Maker's Terrace is clear of opposing Dark Iron forces; a regiment of Ironforge riflemen hold the valley at the head of the Uldaman excavation.

Saeren drifts over the smoky ruins of Stratholme toward one of the few intact buildings in the city - the Scarlet Bastion, formerly a cathedral of the Silver Hand, and now converted into the Scarlet Crusade's fortress in the Scourge-dominated city. Far below, she can see the barricades in Crusader's Square, manned by crusaders who even now are battling off a wave of zombies.

In the war room of Light's Hope chapel, Tyrosus has a map of Stratholme laid out on the table. "This is what we know about the disposition of Scourge and Crusade forces," he says, placing tokens on the map. "The Crusade maintains a blockade here, in Crusader's Square. Naturally, the Scourge holds the rest of Stratholme, but their stronghold is here, on the northern end of the city."

Sitting in Eecee, watching the Scarlet Crusade prisoners, Nerai was idly fiddling with the control surfaces of Eecee. The goblin's hands twitched over the various knobs and dials, all the while muttering under the breath, "50 quarks.. 25 degrees.. no no no.. time to oil.. " As if a dancer and singer, performing a ballet expressed only in chrome and steel.