A cool wind blew in from the sea, carrying with in the stench of death. The beach was littered with rotting corpses of animal, man, and orc, laid out in a grim mosaic of bone and corrupted flesh. The sky hummed with the energy of the floating fortress high above the trees, a machine of undeath and destruction that would not be stopped. They could be beaten. Sword and axe and spell were readied. We charged, our voices and weapons raised against the forces of the Lich King. Not this time. We stood upon the mountain of corpses and screamed our triumph into the darkened sky.