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A very beautiful elven woman was standing in front of him. He loved that woman. That wasn't love to a woman though. He loved Her as a superior being, as a true beauty and strength. She was indeed better than him. She was stronger, She was wiser. He was impressed with the power of Her will. And he was nothing comparing to Her. Just a worm, an insect. But still She knew of him and She was taking care.

Gharb was ready to die for that woman. Countless times. He was ready to suffer for Her, to have no sleep, to battle epic enemies. Just to bring some happiness in Her life. Every time he was so knackered to give up everything, he though of Her. And that gave him enough strength to go on further. To create and to destroy.

Gharb was praying for Her life and happiness for a long time. His bones were aching but he didn't notice that.

In reverent silence he dared to glance at Her. If he'd been alive his heart would tremble. He stood up and covered his face with a rogue mask. He glanced at Her once again. She nodded. Or was it his imagination?

All the time he was listening to his soul. And with every moment of his life persuaded him... Lady Sylvanas was perfect.



Gharb was over Bulwark. He knew these places perfectly as he spent all his life in northern Azeroth. And all his death too.

He reached the path to Andorhil and disappeared in stealth. His rogue skills were really amazing. He spent a lot of time practicing and reaching the highest possible mastery of any rogue. Now it was his time.

He was wandering Andorhil. He's never been here before. Or was he?

Suddenly he had a vision. It was like something woke up in his mind... something warm and truly beloved. He was standing at the doorstep and gazing at the bright sky covered with millions of different stars as if the Gods decided to celebrate this night. And a woman with children were sitting in the house in front of mantelpiece... he felt like it was his family. But the vision faded away. A ruined town was spreading all over Andorhil. Gharb felt like he was posessed...

He avoided the Scourge patrols and approached one ruined house. No Scourge were there. He knew it was his house...

He wanted to cry but he couldn't. He just fell down on his knees. Then he lost his mind and... fell asleep.

Gharb was sleeping like a child. He was dreaming for many hours... he saw his wife, he saw his children and his friends. It were an old good times when Lordaeron was strong and king Terenas was ruling the country. That was the deepest dream he ever had.

Then he woke up. Scourge soldiers behind the other ruins was making some unpleasant noises. Perhaps, that was some sort of speech. Gharb was sick...

He walked over the nearest hill and gazed in the water. There was a reflection of an undead with half-rotten face covered with a rogue mask. Gharb looked over his hands... rotten, ugly, covered with dirt and blood hands. And he felt the smell of death around him. He saw death itself... "it" was still here urging for more souls, for even better harvest. Death was consuming all the town, all his house and previous life.

Gharb said a prayer to Lady Sylvanas. He was thankful to Her as She gave him the freedom and thus a chance to atone his mistakes and weakness.

Gharb had no choice but to enter an endless slaughter to earn peace and happiness to all the fallen heroes of Lordaeron. He took out his daggers with a desperate smile. He was hating humans. He was truly hating the Scourge. But more of all he was hating himself.