Months into seasons, as Mal'Ganis pondered... the worgen were howling.

Worgen were voracious and instead of running from the shambling undead, gorged upon the moving cadavers with wild glee while also being completely resistant to the undead plague. Plus every other disease and curse the Dreadlord threw at his test subjects. Perfect attributes for fighting the Scourge.

The only problem was... that they were feral. And the best results of the many methods of control at his disposal had proved temporary at best. Domination, torture, rewards, spells, and the list went on and on. The longest lasting of those attempts merely preventing the subject's wild, uncontrollable state while he was within its sight. But not giving him any ability to guide the creature.

Two seasons into the task, while Mal'Ganis brooded... the worgen stopped howling.

The dreadlord erased his current unwilling experiment in a flash of felfire, cloaked himself in invisibility, and surpressed his presence in quick order.

The worgen weren't howling!

Taking his time straining his senses and checkings his wards, Mal'Ganis methodically made his way to the top of the tower. Once there and with a small leap, he was out through the compromised roof and perched outside to overlook the dead moonlit forest.

Becoming one with the surroundings, the demon patiently surveyed the area in hopes that he'd detect what had silenced the local ravening hunter packs.

He heard it first. A glancing blow. Clashing steel.

A small breeze bearing the smell of rust struck Mal'Ganis from the west and he turned towards it.

There! His eyes narrowed as he pinpointed two combatants darting about, a deadly dance amidst stray moonbeams and tall shadows.

Mal'Ganis was off the roof and gliding towards the engagement immediately.

As he soared closer and got a better look the bat-winged demon abruptly changed course and sought the branches of a tall dead tree. The course correction required due to more of the situation revealing itself to the curious but incredibly wary dreadlord.

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He wasn't the only one that had been drawn to the fight. In fact, Mal'Ganis appeared to be considerably late to the party.

For keeping pace with the running battle was a wide rotating encirclement of what appeared to be all worgen packs in the region. Converged around these combatants. Silently... . But why?

Mal'Ganis changed his original assessment a moment later.

To his experienced eye, the two individuals displayed top notch ability as their skirmish surged farther west, away from the road. But one was incredibly evasive and seemed looking to flee, while the other was persistent in the chase.

This was no fight. This was a hunt.

What he recognized to be a night elf was bearing a rather unwieldy triangular hide-wrapped parcel strapped to his back... and was the hunted. A courier?

The demon then perused the pursuer and was now more intrigued.

This was no simple mounted bandit. For the rider sat atop a skeletal steed. A deathknight? No. No, Mal'Ganis could tell this was no Scourge deathknight. No rune-blade for one. And was a different variation of undead for two, spectral- revenant? - as far as he could determine. Where or who was its master?

The Horde and Alliance were quite open about their outright avoidance of the death arts as far as the demon was aware. Especially with the threat of any undead minions being dominated by the Scourge.

So what was this undead's target? The elf? Or the package?

And why hadn't the worgen dealt upon this pair with their usual expected violence?!

This current chain of events was outside the scope of what he expected from the worgen despite all his experiments, meaning there were new variables at play here. Variables that he absolutely had to understand in order to bring his current task to fruition.

Mal'Ganis's grin grew wide as he trailed along for some answers. And to enjoy the show.

THE NIGHT ELF

Valorn spun to the side as an empowered blade sheared through an obstructing young tree and came close to claiming his arm. His spin ended with a retaliatory spear thrust to his mounted pursuer's face, but the dark rider smoothly parried while attempting to trample him underneath with his armored steed. Hurling himself backwards to avoid crushing hooves, the agile elf kept his feet under him and took off zigzagging away.

He took the time to quickly pat the buckle across his chest. Luckily the parcel under his care was still strapped tight.

The Night elf had been on foot ever since his nightsaber had fallen in the ambush that had kicked off this fight/ flight. And even though he wasn't out of tricks just yet, the Night Elf couldn't help but lament at his lack of luck.

He had not seen a single suitable place to make a stand. One where he didn't have to worry so much about getting attacked from behind by any of the worgen weaving around the deadly duel. Not to mention that the rider's attacks were progressively getting harder to dodge as his opponent was now familiar with the elf's avoidance patterns. And was riding a tireless undead mount... .

Dashing between two thick trees, the rider was forced to curve away left slightly and in that moment, Valorn caught sight of a clearing housing a giant rock ahead. A chance to maybe turn things around!