Charlistrasza has a history on this realm dating back to early March 2008. The mysterious Benefactor of the Heroes' Society, she first only appeared in the form of sound, in the accent of an elderly male goblin. As the heroes under her will became more successful, she revealed herself to be called Charlie, a female Tauren. More adventures continued, until it was finally revealed that Charlie was in fact a red dragon, retired from service. With the coming of the Nexus War, Charlistrasza has disappeared - where is she?

The Northern Lights, Charlistrasza considered, always looked fresh. They always looked like they were full of sublime, irrepressible life, and in this conflict, they were the perfect symbol for her to gaze upon, and treasure.

Members of her kin were being killed now, she knew. Wyrmrest, Coldarra, Icecrown... it didn't matter. They were in battle against the nefarious and maddened forces of the world, each proposing for its own version of genocide, each for different reasons. Blue Dragons? They were attacking Wyrmrest Temple itself! Malygos, the fool, was too embroiled in his war on free usage of magic to notice that the armies of the Scourge, much more pressing matters than the precious mortals' enthusiastic spellcasting, was on the move, and sweeping the continent. He was blind! Blind! It had been felt that when the Reds stepped in, the glorious Reds, that he would cease his idiotic purge of life, but no! It made Charlistasza fume with anger.

And that was without the Scourge! The very same Scourge that now resurrected fallen dragons, and defiled the dragon shrines of the Reds and Blacks combined! Her dead brethren (and that was regrettable enough) were being made into abominations that would then go on to attack still living dragons! Brother against brother, sister against sister... it was all too much to bear.

She knew why she had been sent here. Charlistrasza had earned a very strange quality after all her meetings with the mortal races. After all the missions she had handed out, all the attempts at operating a buzzbox, and all the grumblings that she had heard said against her, she had been cursed with something that most dragons could easily repress: emotions. In such a delicate situation in Dragonblight, emotions were not needed. They would only get in the way of the job that the Red Dragonflight had to stick to. Whereas Alexstrasza would follow this code, and stand in her Temple, never to interfere, Charlistrasza would want to take the fight to Blues, to the Scourge, and to anyone else who was a threat to life.

So. Stationed as an undercover guard in Warsong Hold. That was to be her own mission, for now. She had been ordered to keep an eye out for the Blue outpost stationed somewhere near there, to see if there was anything dangerous that would have to be acted upon. In her Tauren form, she had joined the ranks of troops. The sergeants could not remember her ever not being under their orders, and the soldiers themselves were too mixed a bunch to notice a newcomer. Reinforcements were arriving from Orgrimmar everyday, in any case.

Just like she had put on the façade of being a shaman for her husband, she did the same here. Her Lava Bursts and Flame Shocks were the stuff that knocked flying nerubians out of the sky, their husks clattering with the quarry floor, destroyed by such powerful magic. She missed her husband, and Mulgore. He, and the kids, had no idea where she was now - they were just back at home and hoping for this conflict to end as soon as possible. It had been so long since the dragon had taken up work again.

She had seen heroes she recognised pass through this bastion of the Horde. She had seen Khremloc the Wise, Thranduin the Death Knight, Soraya the Blood Knight, Ciite the Shield, Adera the Hunter... she had seen many. And although they had never recognised her (one had even asked for directions), seeing them again, in this new conflict made her draconic heart beat as much as she heard humans' did when they were high on emotion. These... these were her family! She had had such an effect on their lives with her influence, and, for all things had stopped when the ugly events in Northrend had come into fruition and she had been called away to deal with them, she remembered each one. She remembered the events in Windshear Crag, the time she had lost their trust in Fenris Isle, and the time when they had saved two entire worlds from the Shadow Council. She remembered all of this, because...

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Warsong Hold

'NERUBIANS! Load your arrows!' shouted a voice she very much recognised. It was young but grizzly.

'Right on it, mon!' replied another loud voice. She remembered that just as well. 'AH!'

'Heroes!' she said softly to herself, before unclasping her mace from her belt. They needed help. he rushed down the mammoth flight of stairs that led to the quarry from inside the Keep, and as the scene came into view, a whole squad of uniformed grunts were fighting it out with overhanging nerubians, spitting down their foul poisons. Behind the Horde forces, were two others. An orc, and a troll.

Her pace quickened, and she had to stop herself from trying to take off. As one of the attacks cast a web that encased a Warsong sentry, and the orc of the pair casted a Riptide to keep the soldier on her toes, Charlistrasza joined the fray.

She kept her mouth shut, and her flamboyant movements for another time. Instead, she slammed her hooves into the ground, the soil giving way so she could trench herself in, and she started to shoot as much fire out of her hands as was physically possible. To her right, Salax... the troll. He was commanding a worm to straighten its form up to the skies, and bite at any nerubians in range. The hunter himself was aiming his impressive gun at the wings of Scourge's hovering minions, reducing them to broken creatures on the floor.

And the shaman... Gremkarc. He was spending his time healing the desperate soldiers. None had fallen yet, which was unusual for such a battle. But Gremkarc, she knew, was a healer worth his salt. He had also fortified himself in, via his four totems, each one representing another facet of the elements that he spent his life honouring. Chained heal after chained heal were sent towards the valiant defenders, and surges of energy bounced between them, enlivening those that needed the boost, and making all of the nerubians' attacks for naught.

The assault from the Scourge didn't let up, as more and more flew down to harass the front of the Hold. They were skirmishes, of course, and for no other purpose than to drain resolve, and to kill a few unlucky defenders. But with Gremkarc and Salax behind them, that wasn't going to happen. Charlistrasza smiled in her helmet, and pushed her hands out, a Flame Shock forming and engulfing a victim in its destruction. Another corpses which fell to the earth. The air was alight with the sounds of bug-like spits, pained yelps, the rushing of tidal water washing over healed troops, and gunshots. Bang. Bang. Bang. BANG. There was scarcely a second which didn't contain the harsh sounds of bullets being unleashed onto their targets.

The Warsong Captain was riding on his wolf, casting chained lightnings when he could. To look at, he was much more impressive a shaman than Gremkarc. He wiped out trios of nerubians in a single blast, and he was older, more battle-scarred. But he wasn't the one keeping the troops alive with Riptides, Healing Waves, and the totems that gave an extra, needed, edge in battle. Even Salax's worm received some treatment from the spells of Gremkarc, and with renewed strength it leaped up, and clamped its teeth down onto a low-flying nerubian.

That was one of the last to die. As several more plummeted to their deaths, a larger creature appeared, like the others, but more of a commanding presence. It spoke a crude Orcish, and didn't get a chance to finish its damnation, as Gremkarc immediately ran in and cast a powerful Earth Shock onto its form. It recoiled from the strike, and then counter-attacked immediately, slashing its claws at the orc, attempting to slice him to pieces. He was healing himself, but with each spell of restoration came another relentless attack. Salax and the allies that Gremkarc had kept standing rushed in, to batter the nerubian to pieces, but it was focused on Gremkarc, who was rapidly losing blood.

Charlistrasza had emotions. They wouldn't do any good in Wyrmrest, but here? This was a land of mortals. And mortals needed help, no matter what Alexstrasza's stance was. Without any shame or guilt, she sent her own blessing of help to the orc, tapping two fingers upon her palm. The effects were immediately clear - the orc lunged back to now weakened nerubian. The Earth Shock that he used... floored it. He panted, almost falling to his knees, before healing himself.

He and Salax began talking, and the hunter picked up the carcass of the fallen nerubian general. Charlistrasza looked on as they began to make their way to Saurfang, to hand in the remnants of the creature.

She knew the orc would have had ankhs. She knew there were healers on hand in any case, and his will would not have left him, not even for a second. She knew that he'd probably have kept protecting himself perfectly well anyway, but she felt a duty to give him something to pay back all that he had done - for the Horde, for the world, and for the helpless.

She also knew that now the armies were focused on Northrend, old wounds has resurfaced in the southern continents. Bandits, demons, opportunists, and other nefarious creatures were using the armies' presence in Northrend was an excuse to try and reap havoc. And heroes, she thought, would not tolerate that.