The orc looked unsettled at the name. "Gorefiend?

“You are the death knight?" He grimaced, showing his tusks, glancing at Gorefiend and his companion, then obviously mustering his courage. "You don't look so dangerous."

"Dangerous enough," replied Soulripper. He turned and nodded at something the orc could not see. Several more beings, their faces hooded but their glowing eyes visible, emerged from the very shadows of the village's huts and stepped up beside their two fellow death knights. Gorefiend chuckled, and the orc swallowed. "Now fetch your master, lest your arrogance bring you swift death instead."

"Ner'zhul sees no one,"' the orc stated. He was be­ginning to sweat, but he obviously had his orders.

Gorefiend sighed, a strange whistling sound as air was taken into and then expelled from dead lungs.

"Swift death then," he said. Before the orc could even form a reply, Gorefiend extended a mailed hand and murmured something. The warrior gasped, dou­bling over and then dropping to his knees. Gorefiend tightened his fist and blood suddenly burst from the hapless orc’s nose, eyes, and mouth. Gorefiend had al­ready turned away by this point, having lost interest in tormenting the annoyance.

"Dark magic!" one of the Shadowmoon warriors shouted, grabbing up the axe beside him. "Kill the warlocks before they can afflict any more of us!" he bellowed, and his fellows responded by readying them­selves as well.

Gorefiend whirled, glowing eyes narrowing. "If you all die so be it; I will speak with Ner'zhul!" This time he extended both hands, and darkness formed at his fin­gertips. It exploded like a glowing black flame, knock­ing back the orc who had hurled the axe as well as his fellows. They lay where the blast had blown them, screaming in agony.

"Stop! There has been enough killing already!" The old orc’s voice rang with authority. Gorefiend lowered his arms and his companions fell back, watching their leader.