Prince Arthas, upon an invincible horse of pale white

Looked upon  Quel-Thalas with a sneer, boy musta been a sight!

Plenty of trees, no entrance in sight, must have made him sick

How can you move an army of undead through trees so thick!?

Ghostly Thuzad, evil in spirit

Encouraged a plan, should the Death Knight hear it!

Sorry, Druids, this may hurt you like a kick to the knees

But Arthas basically said, ‘Screw the trees!’

Upon the use of disgusting meat wagons

Launched nastiness that would make those of the highest constitution start gaggin’!

The base of which all would call Deathholme

A place that reeked of rot and gnawed bone

From there, cultists, ghouls, and abominations too

Would march and slaughter any elf in view!

Trees destroyed, did it bless the forest a disgusting mar

A gray swath the Elves today called the ‘Dead Scar’

Like artists, did Arthas and his army create

A swath to Silvermoon, covered in the bones of elves who met their fate

Though they fought and pressed against the Undead war machine

The brave who fell were only remembered as bones, so it seemed

In came she, the one who was determined to stop this grisly spree of murder

The Ranger general Sylvanas Windrunner

‘I am Sylvanas, Ranger General of Silvermoon, I advise you to turn back now.’

She stated, glare in eye, his advancement through the forest she would not allow

Given a scoff, the Death knight rebukes with an edgy demand

‘It is you who should turn back, Death has come to your land!’

Thus began a bitter battle. As time went on, he hated her more and more

She kept her distance giving a confident remark ‘Clearly you never fought elves before!’

But tried as she fought, the brave ranger general couldn’t stop the army’s advance

And upon the final battle of the two, there was a brutal, somewhat disappointing dance

“Finish me, I deserve a clean death”, decreed the defeated ranger

‘The peace of death is the last thing I’ll give you!”  Thus began the game changer!

Strong and determined was she…

Was now turned into a Banshee!

Now a minion, under Frostmourne’s wielder…

And trust me, this story only gets weirder…

The death of many, both in Elf and land

The birth of James—I mean Kel-Thuzard, would be at hand!

Silvermoon, proud and beautiful, of tall red and white spires

Would be polluted by the undead army’s ire! 

There it was! The Sunwell, the objective sought by the Death Knight

To give birth to Kel-Thuzard, as a mighty Lich, yeah, you heard right!

As they had come, did they leave

A forest once gorgeous, now with a scar, where survivors would grieve

From the fallen, would the elves vow revenge for the blood that was spilled

And the Blood Elves would rise with revenge to fulfill!

Though we know the history of how that came to be

And how today seems to wash away that nasty history

The Elves, if not the world, got their victory and revenge for that sad day

But one could say, in some way…

A victory in blood didn’t earn back a flower through the scar, a near-permanent sigh

A reminder of that day, of that loss against that guy because of you know why!

But here we are, scar nearly gone, but not in the heart of our Elven allies

Whom may still hold an ire or tear within their eyes

Let us give a silent moment, but of Course a clap of hands to those who fell

As we know, the souls responsible for this slaughter…are somewhere in hell,

May we never know another act of such cruelty

For a peaceful respite from disaster…Gee, that would be a novelty!

May there never be another Dead Scar, in land or in heart

And with that, this poem is over, and I must depart!