Nightsabres

Aktarin's gryphon landed in Lakeshire as it ended.

When her saber stalked into the town, she glanced around; mangled corpses huddled where they'd fallen. A woman crouched weeping incoherently by a mutilated human male. By her side, a blank-faced boy stood, ashen, knuckling his eyes with one grimy hand, tears marking their tracks through dust. It seemed to her Kal'dorei gaze as if the human child had aged into adulthood with a suddenness she was distantly aware was unnatural for that species. Had his father held him, loved him? It didn't matter now. A family was shattered on the anvil of bloodlust and insanity, and who could say their fate.. the mother might lift a sword herself, the son... a cold-blooded killer with a lifetime to spend attempting to scour his soul clean of his father's murdered blood with the slaughter of the Horde.