The Shaman sits relaxed eyes closed, meditating, hyper aware of everything around him. He can smell the rich earthy aroma of melting stone mixed with the stench of sulfer, sometimes the sudden sweet tang of disolving iron or gold. He can feel the shuffleing of the elementals from the plane of fire not truly below but just beyond this reality of the lava pools beneath Blackrock Mountain.

He can sit in this trance for years, calm, then suddenly filled with bloodlust and battlerage. And so years pass and he not so much dreams but remembers.

{The Fel Blood was hot, thick and delicious. The true horde armies sweatted and shook with spasms and rage. The blood took to thier eyes and they howled in ecstasy. Blackhand the Destroyer stood before the true horde his elite guard and advisors in perfect order behind him. The call to war and survival roared through the air. Gul'dan and his minions chanted beneath the dark portal and it began to pulse.}

The shaman's heart slowed, the acids in his stomach drew back to conserve his food. A thin layer of frost coated him the arcane device working perfectly, deepening his trance and protecting him from the heat. Years slip away.

{Rend frowned down at the squadron of shamans standing in formation before him, he reguarded thier commander with a sneer. "Krag'tha. report."

Krag'tha snapped a firm salute to his chest. "Yes Warchief! These are the Firebinders, They have been trained to deal with the threats beneath Shadowforge City as you commanded, Warchief."

Rend frowned. "Good. Show me."

Krag'tha snapped another salute raised his fist in the air and let it fall like a hammer. The Shaman squad dropped lines and reformed into defensive positions as the warlocks brought down the wards on the rift they had found.

Numerous smaller fire elementals swirled forward as well as two Core hounds and a molten giant. Most of the squadron stopped in their tracks...

and began laughing.

Three stepped forward to face the two score of elementals. They began to sing an old warsong in chant stepping into position. Lighting bolts ripped through the front packs. Streams of water douced the shamans cooling thier burns and huge blocks of ice froze the hounds to the ground. The largest one ran forward and began to howl twirlling his twin axes as his spirit wolves leaped from nothing onto either side of the giant's neck. The three shaman's stomped thier feet in unison and ended the battle as they ended thier warsong. beat for beat toying with their foes all the while.

Rend crossed his arms across his chest and let out his own blast of laughter.

"Very good, carry on."

They were always given leave after a battle. Allowed to wander underneath the mountain at their leisure. They struck a bargan with the Darkirons and traded with Shadowforge, mostly for beer. But soon it would be time again to go back into the trance and wait for the next assault from below. How long had it been?...years?...}

The iron vein began to melt and work its way trough the small crack in the stone above the alcove. It cooled as it found its way down the stalagtite in the chamber. Slowly it began to form a tear at the tip no longer glowing molten but still soft like silver honey. The tear swelled and drooped and finally the thread of metal snapped. The iron tear drop fell towards the the tiny opening between the shamans pauldrons, exposed only with his head down in trance.

He blinked at the large teardrop searing its way into the flesh of his palm and froze it. That tiny burst of pain awoke a thousand more. As he stood his joints sang a warsong of pops and cracks. How long has it been?

Years...