in a field of gray—into the assembly, carrying it with a pride and strength worthy of a warrior much younger. In contrast to the splendor displayed by many in the audience, Genn wore the same simple, loose garments that he had during the banquet, and when the first of his people followed him into the assembly, they were seen to be dressed similarly.
Where there had only been a small band at the banquet, with Genn now marched a number that not coincidently matched the strength of Stormwind’s contingent. Genn obviously desired to show the others that he could offer the Alliance a powerful ally.
Yet, although the men and women of Gilneas looked to be sturdy of build and clearly willing fighters, they were noticeably unarmed. Even the pole upon which their banner fluttered had no point at the top, meaning that it could not represent any sort of weapon. It was as if the Gilneans sought to prove to their counterparts that they had no use for such.
Genn paused before the night elf leaders, acknowledging them as those before had. Then, in a change from the entrance of the other kingdoms, he took the pole and thrust the bottom hard into the ground.
“Gilneas stands before you!” the king called to all around him and his followers. “Gilneas stands before you to atone for its sins by offering its might to any and all of the Alliance who need it! No truer brother will there be to any in their time of distress!”
He stepped back to join Eadrik and the others. The Gilneans formed an arc facing every direction except the entrance, pointedly making certain that no matter where one sat in the assembly, he or she would be viewing some member of Genn’s band more or less in full.
“And lest anyone think us of weak use in battle, of being unable to defend our brothers beside us, we now hope to dispel that misconception. . . .”
With that, Genn and his people transformed.
Their bodies swelled, growing a third again in girth and height. Although originally loose-fitting, the Gilneans’ clothing still proved too tight for this shift, and shirts and jerkins ripped loudly. Hair sprouted over the Gilneans’ arms, legs, chests, and faces, spreading so thick that it became fur. Beneath the fur came the sounds of cracking and popping, of bones shifting and tendons stretching into positions of which they should not have been accustomed. Their arms and legs twisted as their forms contorted, the legs turning sleeker, more akin to those of a swift predator. Each figure became hunched, but in that manner of a powerfully built beast.
As the audience watched, rapt, the Gilneans’ hands stretched and the nails grew into long, savage claws. Yet, that paled in comparison to the astounding metamorphosis of their faces. It was not just that the ears narrowed and stretched but that the mouth and nose pushed forward, melded together, and created a muzzle filled with sharp teeth capable of rending through flesh without trouble.
The worgen stood before the Alliance.
The lupine figures held their ground, although there was in them the evident urge to run, to hunt. They did not turn from the gazes of the crowd, instead staring confidently back.
Genn Greymane, his chest heaving from adrenaline, eyed Malfurion and Tyrande. They nodded in turn. There was no greater way to emphasize the worth of the Gilneans to the Alliance than for the refugees to reveal their full strength.
The Gilneans had not always been among the worgen, though, and not all of their people were affected. Many were, however . . . and it was, to Malfurion’s shame, he himself who was in great part to blame.
It had begun with other druids, those experimenting with the pack form. They had called upon the power to shift into large wolves, only to discover too late that in these forms they lost control of themselves. Blood had been shed.
Malfurion was one of those nearly lost, the aid of the demigod Cenarius all that saved him. Finally aware of the threat, Malfurion had banned the form’s use. However, unbeknownst to him, a group of druids had gathered in secret to continue its efforts. Using the legendary artifact called the Scythe of Elune, they had sought to tame the wolf form . . . only to have the scythe transform them into the first of the worgen.
Bringing the savage creatures under control, Malfurion dismissed the advice of others who demanded their destruction and cast the worgen into