On Saturday evening Andromache set out to Azshara to study with Magister Xylem in his tower near the ancient elven ruins of Eldarath. She was immediately unsettled by the twisted landscape but eventually succeeded in finding the Archmage. Little did she know that her troubles were only beginning. Braving the twisted reality of the tower where walls and floors disapeared without warning, Andromache was tasked with aquiring Glittering Dust from the blood elves who yet abide in this ruined land. She searched high and low for the Horde sympathizers, eventually discovering them but little appreciating the nightmare she was about to enter.
Glimpsing their compound from a distance, our heroine immediately realized something was wrong: the foe moved unnaturally, gliding across the land rather than striding as normal beings do. As Andromache approached they showed little emotion until suddenly, without warning, a fireball lanced out from one. Summoning a ward against fire and weaving her own offensive spells, Andromache counterattacked. Fire lashed the blood elf, and lightning bolts and frost, yet it still showed no emotion. Only when a titanic fireball engulfed the elf did it finally succomb, yet the nightmare only worsened. Rather than falling to the floor, the dead elf leant forward at about thirty degrees. Andromache approached the strange foe, wondering what afflicted these puppet-like elves.
The corpse blinked.
Andromache's resolved waivered, but she vowed not to abandon the task before her. She encountered several more elves and all seemed to suffer the same affliction as the first elf while a select few, presumably the priests of of this strange afflicted race, turned 90-degrees widershins whenever they cast a healing spell. Many Blood elves fell before her spells, perhaps three-score in total before the task was done, but others fought back viciously, packs of three or four elves gliding eerily in pursuit as Andromache fled for her life.
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