Yarn of Time (Canon Patchworking with Uchiha Ren Omakes)

Omake Seven

Warcraft Movie fusion, featuring suffering Gul'dn and Durotan's point of view on insanity that is CPwUR-verse.

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They had come here to find a new home - instead, they found hell, filled with devils unwilling to share.

Or so Durotan would be tempted to say, if it weren't for the fact that it was them who had invaded and attacked without provocation. At first, they – Blackhand, mostly – were disappointed at the lack of opposition, of warriors to fight.

But then warriors came, and with them – complete, utter defeat.

They are smaller, much more lithe than Orcs, each and every one of them. But the speed and strength they possess are unmatched by even the greatest of warriors. They wield deadly weapons of all shapes and sizes and use magic that is not magic. Some of them breathed fire, some called upon winds so strong they tore trees out of the ground. Some parted the earth with a mere gesture, some could make water do their bidding, and some brought down the wrath of heaven itself, deadly lightning carrying the song of a thousand birds.

They are war-honed monsters. Men and women, young and old. None of them hesitated to cut down an enemy, as if death was all they knew.

Now it is all said and done – what remains of the Horde are rounded and bound, those who would still fight suddenly finding themselves with no means to move. A boy, a child still, really, with hair of molten gold and a smile brighter than the sun had paint complicated runes on their skin and suddenly they couldn't move, couldn't speak. All the while the boy is laughing with his companion, a pale-skinned, dark-haired youth, barely older than him, with clothes drenched in orc blood, hand on the handle of the blade that had claimed too many of Durotan's kin tonight. The Pale Raven, as Chieftain came to call him, is wearing a small, fond smile as he speaks to his companion, as if he did not cut through many, many lives not so long ago.

They are soon joined – and scolded – by a girl with short, obnoxiously pink hair. Normally, she would be overlooked by all, but Durotan knows better. He had seen her shatter the beginning of the portal Gul'dan had them build, with just one punch. He watches as she grabs the Raven by the ear and suddenly her hands flicker green, like Fel but brighter, and the cut on the boy's face closes the second the light touches it.

It's definitely not Fel. Fel kills all it comes in contact with, and this power here is a power used to mend wounds and, by all means, restore life. He had caught glimpses of it before, when people dressed differently than the others, in pale, open coats, herded the few wounded to the side, and their hands glowed green, too. Those people who were herded away soon came back, the only signs of their wounds being the cuts in their clothes.

One of them had had his hand chopped off. Now he is walking around, sleeve missing but hand attached and functioning. It's a miracle, if Durotan had ever seen one.

But, despite them all being warriors, there is one person that would be burned into Durotan's memories forevermore.

A demon. A wicked beast.

A mane of short, black, absolutely untamed hair, eyes wild, red, and monstrous, crying tears of blood and lungs breathing fire. Blade clutched in hand, clothes drenched in orc blood and monsters even his worst nightmares couldn't concoct by her side, she had cut through the Horde with a frightening, single-minded focus, calling upon fire, wind and the lightning.

She cut Blackhand down like a rabid dog before he even took a full swing at her, his head, face eternally frozen in shock, rolling off his shoulders.

Durotan, who has never believed in the devil, found himself rectifying those beliefs.

Now her eyes are black like a void as she stands next to a man with blue skin and a giant, wrapped sword on his back, both facing Garona and speaking with her. It's always impressive, how she can learn any language around her within just a few weeks. And now, she is the only one who could communicate with these people.