“…shut up you moron! He’s going to hear us if you keep making so much noise.” A loud thump and a subsequent crash woke Romagoth from a deep sleep. “See, I told you he would wake up!!! Idiot…”

Romagoth sat up and looked around the small room he was staying in. As far as rentals go, this one had seen better days to be sure. But when down on your luck, you take what you can get and that is what Romagoth did. Up until now, he had slept fairly well. Whoever had been in his room was gone now, but they did not make being there a secret. Seeing a piece of paper on the nightstand, Romagoth got out of bed and picked it up. The paper was folded neatly in a circle with four corners sticking out from within. A sudden feeling of dread caused him to shudder involuntarily. He knew whom this letter was from before even opening it. He also knew that death was on his doorstep, or had been.

Almost six months had passed since the foray into the Scarlet Monastery with his friends. Much had happened in that time, including a severe head injury that nearly killed Romagoth and did kill his Felsteed. “Nitherra”, as he called her, was the best mount he had ever had. The undead outside of Karazhan didn’t care about that though. The bastards got a hold of Nitherra while Romagoth was inside and they tore her apart, piece by piece. By the time Romagoth arrived to save her, it was too late. They had pulled her down into the depths of the underground cellar and had devoured most of her. What was left was not recognizable. In a rage, Romagoth destroyed all of them, but not without consequences. One of the undead managed to slip up to him and split his skull with an axe, and he nearly died right there. If not for the mysterious stranger that appeared from nowhere, Romagoth would surely be dead now. He never had a chance to thank the stranger, as he was gone before Romagoth regained consciousness. When he awoke, a week had passed and he was in this room in the contested territory of Hellfire Peninsula in Outland.

Romagoth had arrived for the first time in this region several months ago, and after much deliberation, decided to stay and help fight the Burning Legion. Although his heart told him to continue the pursuit of the Scourge and finding his long lost brother, he knew these people needed his help in driving back the Burning Legion.

After the death of his Felsteed, Romagoth knew he needed another mount. He tried many different ones, from the Gnomish Mechanostrider to the Dwarven Ram to the Night Elf Frostsaber. None of them felt like the right choice. Then he heard about a flaming horse that was only available to dedicated warlocks through a long chain of events. He pondered this for several days, and then decided he wanted this horse. So he set out on the long quest to obtain this flaming horse, often called a “Dreadsteed” by other warlocks...