s the wind whipped sand across the barren wasteland of Tanaris, in the far south-eastern area near the border of what was once Un'goro Crater, a deep growl emitted. With its canines glistening with fresh blood, the beast lout of a fearsome and bellowing roar. Within seconds it was cut abruptly short as an arrow embedded itself into the beasts throat.
A flash of blonde hair was seen as a figure dived out of the way and under some bones of an ancient forgotten beast. And as the dust settled a pair of large green eyes peered over the edge of the corpse, 'whoah...'
Tupai Autumn-Eve was still just a girl compared to many of the rangers. As a child she had been mischievous and described as 'a handful'. She had spent her days and evenings with her best friend Ryda, How she missed him now, even after four years...
Tupai had been taken from Silvermoon several years before in a bid to save the children from the attack on the city. It hadn't been long since her return after being away several weeks and she was reunited with her adoptive parents, and Ryda. But as ever, Tupai's curiosity and defiance cast her in to trouble yet again. Seperating from the group, she had hidden so long she swear she was forgotten. She had seen some travellers, some people she recognised, so she had followed them souther, across the sea and into Tanaris. Not one person had spotted her, not that she knew of at least...
With her blonde hair loosely tied back and a firebloom nestled upon her left ear, she notched another arrow as she moved about the slain beast warily. Sighing inwardly she quietly began to skin the beast, the image of an animals insides unaffected her, she had learnt from an early age that all parts of an animal was useful. Taking its skull and staring at its horns she smirked, "A nice twophy to show dem others eh Melik?" She muttered to her faithful lion, who sat busy devouring his share of the beast.
She had worked on the cleaning the skull for several minutes until a low growl from Melik caught her attention. Climbing upon the bones of the ancient beast she kept a hold of the skull and covered her eyes from the strange looking sun. Wiping sand from her pale face she frowned softly, she could see figures battling in the far distance. "We should get north Melik..."
Heading north, running with all her might, she stopped upon a precipice momentarily overlooking the camp. Watching people bustling about her eyes widened as she saw several familiar faces. Once her trainer, Tupai watched as Librael was taken within the camp. Without a thought on how dangerous it was, and blissfully oblivious to the marching that seemed to be getting louder, she ran into the camp. "Libby? Libby! Libby its me!"
Always when he´s away, always when he´s far away from the battle...
"Damnit! Why do this always happen!"
He rode as fast as he could, just to see the large throng of demons, swarming around the camp, attempting to crush the last bastion of the Union, they had to hold fast!
"Come on Storm, we´ll do the Theramore bomb this time!"
Feanon stood on Storm´s back again, and drew his gun, and shot at the demons as he rode, blasting brain and bone parts all hell´s way. Storm then braked so Feanon was thrown off her back, and flew over the demon horde, and into the camp, landing pretty close to a figure he know from a far long time, Myrion.
"Myrion! Dont just sit there!" Feanon cried as he shoot at demons closing in at Myrion, attempting to get him to rise.
"Myrion, you lazy son of a --..." Feanon cried out the words, then saw the commander of the demons...
He had seen her.
He had known her.
He had fought besides her, and respected her as a sister, as a friend...
The flickering flames of a small fire illuminated the cave walls, brightening up the intense display of crystals that had formed. Five figures sat hunched around it, warming their fingertips and being delightfully dull. One of them was Salax, and with his tattered clothing and rugged look, he appeared weary and untidy. The entirety of his right face was nothing but charred flesh, blinding him in one eye, deforming him. He prodded at the fire with a twig with one hand, while the other hand patted Tarzen the Gorilla on the back, desperately trying to calm him down. Tarzen was hungry, and it was quite clear the poor gorilla had cataracts; his eyes had become partially opaque.
At the other side of the fire there were three individuals. There was Williden Marshal, the man who had claimed the cave as his own those many years ago. Now the camp was abandoned, and members of his expedition team had either fled or died. He stared depressingly at the floor.
The other two happened to be Linken the gnome who still had not recovered his memory, and a gnoll who went by the name Gnasher. They both, like the others around the fire, looked utterly dog-tired.
Salax look up, dropping the twig to one side. “'Ow long we gonna be waitin' 'ere?”
“We can't.” Williden said matter-of-factly.
“Why not, mon?” The troll was getting restless. He had been stuck in this cave with these three for a few weeks now, only heading out to hunt for food. The survivors were generally lucky to be alive down in Un'goro Crater. The Burning Legion had left it untouched so far, leaving it teeming with wildlife and exotic flora. However, Salax was sure it would not remain that way for long. With the abundance of crystals with strange magical qualities, the Burning Legion were sure to wander by eventually - most probably set up a mining operation. Salax wanted to be out of here before that ever happened, but he could not be sure exactly when. “We can't be stayin' 'ere all our lives.”
Linkin nodded his head in agreement, “I don't like being the not-hero. Let's fight the demons; why are the demons here anyways?”
Gnasher grunted in response, and everybody fell silent again except for the constant grumbling from Tarzen.
An old, bearded orc came at her, swinging an axe and roaring; the next instant, the orc flew and fell behind her, his head twisted at an unnatural angle. A human woman, once a paladin by the look of her, charged and got dispatched by a surge of energy that, in her days of glory, had come from nature itself, but was now corrupted like the world around her. The paladin was followed by a young girl whom she had seemingly been protecting; hers was the first blood the Commander's staff drew, splitting the small skull by sheer force. Through it all, she smiled. Battle quickened her blood like few things could in these dark days.
It never ceased to amaze her how desperation could cause so much stupidity. The defenders could clearly see her superiority, yet they kept coming at her one by one, not having the wits to coordinate their attacks. All around her, demons were pouring in over and through the fence, tearing at the outer tents and their inhabitants, and even them, the sentient races of Azeroth faced one on one. It was the same every time, and simultaneously saddening and amusing. She laughed, but the wind drowned out the sound.
Then, she leapt forward, for she had caught a glimpse of something tenacious, ferocious, something that held its own against her army like few others. There was some coordination, after all. The most knowledgeable and experienced, and thus the most dangerous, of her opponents had retreated to the centre of the camp, and were knitting together in a band of blades and spells that was felling all too many Felguards compared to their own losses. It called to the officer in her, but also to her own instinct. She would rally the troops, yes... And she would bite into this fellowship personally.
Just as she was about to land upon the core defenders, a group of three young blood elves, likely all born after the invasion, flanked her and attacked with their small, puny knives. She fought them off with little effort, knocking one out with her staff and likely knocking out a few teeth too; but then she was distracted by something in the corner of her eye.
A kneeling man, a... Kaldorei... And another, yelling at him, then... Why were they gawking at her like that? A blow to the temple returned her to the present, and the blood elf, shocked to find her still standing, fell quickly as a black-clad fist smashed into his face, ruining his delicate features. Around them, the battle raged on, but as the young elf slumped to the floor, unconscious or dead, she did not care, her own time seemed to slow down.
The Commander stepped slowly forward, blood dripping from her gloved fist, over three small, broken bodies. She stared the kneeling warrior in the eye, into that moon-blue glow, and stood still, her features completely expressionless save for the slowly dawning light of recognition.
Myrion. Myrion Starblade. Her Captain, her lover, her fiancé... The man who had pushed her aside, out of fear. The answer to the eternal question of "why."
"Myrion..." she mouthed hoarsely, acknowledging the presence of the other Kaldorei only barely. Then she swung her staff, aiming directly at the head of the man she'd once loved more than life itself.
Ebaj sat on a palequin of Felstell, borne aloft by Felguards - Why hadn't the Legion overwhelmed the defenders yet? How were they holding so long? Ebaj sighed wearily. The Legion was decending upon the small camp with ruthless efficiency, though the die-hard survivors from all around the world were putting up a good fight it had to be said.
A small purple imp materialised next to him, and babbled in its squeeky voice "Sir! Many of the mortals are escaping!"
Ebaj craned his neck...it was true - People on grphons, horseback, even some were running! But it was clear, while the last bravest, or stupidest heroes stayed and died - a huge number were escaping. Where too? He though, Un'goro? The Thousand Needles?
Ebaj was troubled; no matter how huge the legions armies were...there were enough places in Kalimdor to hide the whole of this "Union" from his preying eyes.
"Dammnit..." Mumbled Ebaj
Casiuss snarled an order to his Troops "Everyone! Climb! Up Go!"
The purple tabarded, rag-tag remained of the once proud Gnomish First Cohort scrambled up into the mountains of South Stonetalon. Tiggi, Irradium, Buthcer, Tinnie....About thirty of them left...
"Come on Legionaries! We gotta hide!" Cried Casiuss, hawling Irradium up into the mountains. They crawled up for quite some time; until they were safe in a cave near the top of the peak.
Casiuss had become cutt on the accent, and getting some of the blood on his fingers, he drew a line across his face, then did the same to each of his fellow members.
"Today, we become bound in blood!" Cried Casiuss, the assembled Gnomes bashed their weapons and shields together "AROO! AROO! AROO!"
Let the demons come....The Liberation Front would fight! For Death and Glory....
Irradium looked to their leader. Five years of guerilla tactics had tempered their arrogant force, into a hardy, grim unit of elite warriors. Irradium clenched his fists, and the corruption in his right arm flared. Crowing with the rest of the troops, he stopped, gazing down the peak they had strived to ascend. The hood that concealed his face was purple-black, and was set with thin runes of power. He let balls of magic flare into life, and fade again, flexing his fingers. He turned to Casiuss and knelt.
"My lord..." The once light, almost childish voice had been replaced by a thick drawl. Is rattled and scraped, each word ripping itself free of his throat. He raised his head and searched his leader's face,Sighing heavily, he got to his feet, and looked once more over the mountain. "The end of the world." He muttered wuietly to himself. Spines shot out from his arm as the fleshy colour was replaced by a swirling miasma, that played across his skin like candlelight. He dropped his gaze to stare at the rocks beneath his feet. He looked over his shoulder at his comrades, some small part of him revelling in their suffering. Slamming his fist into his other palm, he let a tortured cry loose that rolled over the cliffs. Tracing the years-old scar down his face, sat at the mouth of the cave, adjusting his dark purple robe.
Under the hood, a pair of red eyes glimmered darkly, and for the smallest fraction of a second, there might have been the faintest flicker of fear.
The battle in the camp raged feice now. Marching legions of Felguard crashed into brave defenders fighting for freedom and their very lives who had only just recovered from the shock of a wrathguard charge. The depite the numbers of the Legion the battle was turning in the favour of the Union. The experince of fighting all your life, courage to save your home and sheer desperation was pulling them through. Here and there the legion's lines began to falter, their iron disciplin starting to errode. Illiaster though did not give in so easily, all it needed was the right tool at the right time. It was time to pull out the big guns, the really big guns.
A huge roar echoed across the battlefeild causing some of the combatants to pause. A hideous, deafening noise like metal being twisted combined with a shreik of pure horror. Then the ground began to shake, pounding rythticlly every few second. Footsteps. Taintbringer, the Fel Reaver begun striding towards the battelfeild. The Legion's construct was a true jugernaught, standing nearly 200 foot tall and made from crude black Fel Iron and covered in wicked spikes. Green bale fire burned in its mockery of eyesockets and from its gaping maw ringed by metal teeth. From its back the four great vents from its drive reactor spewed out a thick cloud of noxius smoke. This was the ultimate weapon at Illiaster's disposal, when it would hit the Union's lines they would likely crumble and end their hopes forever. Despite the massive angel of death approaching them with long earth shaking strides the Union warriors continued to battle, trying to buy the civillians enough time to fall back.
High upon the messa a figure watched down. He was tall, wrapped in a thick desert claok that was being buffested around him in the rising winds, his face protected by a cloth covering his mouth and goggles over his eyes. "That things gonna hit their lines and everyone will die," he muttered, taking a swig from his water bottle. He had been attracted by the sounds of battle, on his way to the main camp he'd heard about. He'd found it just as it was coming under attack, his people and possibly his friends were in danger- and there was no way he'd sit by and watch.
"Elle, too me!" he yelled. Another peircing cry rang out. This time more like a deeper version of an eagle. Down from circling the sky above a large shape decended. Elle the griffon landed with a thud on the edge of the messa near the traveler. She was a magnifient beast, golden resplendored and had carried him these many years since The Fall. Elle represented alot of the glory and pride that was lost and a symbol of what could be regained. Quickly the traveler mounted up and kicked his heels into her flanks. Elle spread her wings, ran off the messa and soared up on a thermal, effortlessly gliding over the battlefeild. "Take me towards that big guy," he told her pointing at the Fel Reaver. Dutifully the griffon banked and started rolling towards the hellspawned creation.
Taintbringer barely payed attention to the griffon and it's rider as they approached it rapidly. "Your gonna have to trust me on this one," he patted the griffons neck reasuringly. Elle skwaked but remained on course as the traveller leaped from her back. The wind rushed around him as he descended, his cloak billowing out like wings around him. A shining Khourium greatsword was now visible, strapped to his back. With a loud clang he landed on a balck metal shoulder of the Fel Reaver. His guantleted hands darted out and he grabbed hold of a large spike. He dangled from it, supporting the weight of him and his armour with one hand. He pulled his self back then swung with all his might and caught hold of another spike further along. Going with the momentum he gained he flipped into a standing position on the shoulder, bracing himself unsteadilly against the rocking of its huge footsteps. Quickly, he dashed forward towards the abominations head. As he ran he rached into his sling bag and dragged out a few paper parcals. At the things head he stuffed a few parcals into the budnles of cables that passed for a neck, making sure they were in good and tight. Grabbing a hold of one of the cables he swung back and threw several more inside the smoke belching vents on its back.
With one strong pull the cable supporting him came free. Reeling it out he gained out fifty feet of it, more than enough. The cable slipped down the iron plated chest of Taintreaver all the way to its knees. The traveler took a deep breath and hurled himself from the titan's shoulders. The body of the beat flashed by him. At exactly the right moment he wanted he reach out and grabbed hold of the cable. He jerked to a violent stop, the force threatening to tear his arms out his sockets. "So far so good," he forced through gritted teeth, pulling himself up the cable. He grabbed ahold of the brass trimings protecting the knee joints. With a burst of strength he ripped the brass from its boltings to reveal the grinding gears propelling the beats forward. Reaching for another paper parcel he stuffed it up close to the gears. His job done he called for Elle. Around the creatures geared knee joins he brached himself. Bunching his knees and bracing against its knee he pushed himself back and swung back towards it. At the zenith of his swing he let go of the rope only to land in the saddel of Elle who was waiting to catch him.
He grinned with adrenalin at the daring manuver, hard bit was over now to simply watch the fireworks. "Good girl," he said patting the griffons head fondly, "You never let me down." The griffon descended a short distance ahead of the fel Reaver. The traveler twisted in the saddel to look back at it. "Take this you sunuvabich," he yelled back at it, pressing the button on the detonator. The explosives he'd planted all over Taint bringer exploded with loud booms. The things left leg simply fell apart, the chest ripped open as a fireball emerged from its power plant going critcal and its head was torn off flying off with the force of explosion. The traveler calmly walked away from the smouldering ruin as it collpased back onto Legion troops reinforcing the frontline, the head landed nearby with its balefire extinguised.
Two young Union soldiers looked at him in awe. "Who are you?" one gasped one of the soldiers. The traveler unwraped the mask protecting his face and pulled his goggles up to his forehead to reveal a human male. Long black hair and brown eyes, a long scar ran over his left eye and stubble covered his chin. "It cant be. General Northwall." "I aint a general," Martin grinned, "Now wheres the worst fighting? Theres a battle to win."
After much time and Gnomish profanity, Gremkarc, his orcs, and Big Chingo finally reached the outskirts of the camp. Tne sand here was mixed with the blood of the fallen, and the few guards that manned the wooden pallisade that bordered it looked utterly sick and terrified of their predicament. Gremkarc hailed each one, and Chingo gave his encouraging nods.
Inside, the wounded and dying were laid on hyena skins. They were gurgles, shouts and screams of pain as many gave into death, and as for the ones still ready to fight... they were too busy being sick. A stout dwarf nevertheless greeted the four eagerly.
'Ah, good to see ya, people!' he beamed, although it was a smile laced with solemnity, His armour was rusty, and his warhammer had seen far better days. He did not look like the sort of dwarf who had returned from a successful dragon hunt.
'Lok'tar, friend,' Gremkarc replied. 'Have you seen any of my troops?'
The dwarf nodded. 'A few of them are milling about sah. I think they want you to rally them, really.'
'And any sign of Salax the Beserker? My co-leader? Has he appeared yet?'
There was a dreadful pause. 'Ah haven't heard any sign, sah,' the eventual pause. 'He may have given up, sah. Hard times, are these.'
Gremkarc grunted. 'I want you to keep an eye out, regardless. If he turns up, send him to me. I'm going to look around the camp.'
From behind the orc, there was a deep mutter, and then a gnome jumped down from the wolf, landing heavily. 'Well, I'm glad yers have got all yer plants sorted out. Me, I got no idea what I'm doin' here. Anyone got any tasks for me, have they?'
The dwarf gasped, and turned round to one of his associates. 'Quickly! Find the commander! Tell them Big Chingo has returned!' The dwarf turned back quickly, and saluted the gnome. 'We have been looking for you, sah! We heard you held the legendary staff, but many of us didn't believe it!' He regarded the staff with a look that no longer spoke of sadness, but of a deep hope that the tide could finally be turned. 'Welcome aboard, sah!'
'Oi, I dain't wanna be seen as a damn saviour. I'm here to fight, not to sign autographs and get me arse licked. How the bloody hell are we doin' here?'
The dwarf shook to attention. A big smile had appeared on his face. 'Excellent now you're here, sah! Frequent attacks from the Legion! Don't know how much longer we can hold out!'
'Ooooh, bloody ages if yer ask me. Jus' need a solid defence,' and with this the gnome turned to Gremkarc. 'Get yer men together, orc, and see about findin' out where the demons are in this excuse for a desert. Go on. I dain't need to be told how good yers are at yer job, or how much of an honour it is to serve. What's honour in a place like this, eh?' The gnome muttered, and pulled down the rim of his hat.
'You have my word, Big Chingo,' said Gremkarc.
Chingo turned back to the dwarf. 'Alright. The demons have pretty much destroyed the Six And A Half Needles. What about Un'Goro? How's that these days?'
'We've been too busy defending to check, sah! Might be best if we send a squad now, sah!'
'Get that done, then, I reckon. I'll go and stock up on some bloody supplies, and I'll be ready to fight in no time at all. Oh aye. Time to shoot some fireballs up some demons' arses!'
Vashnu peered over the charred landscape. It reminded her of parts of Draenor were Forge camps had been built. She looked to the East where her next target lay, Forge camp Death. She looked round to her Vindicators. "There are fewer of them everyday" she thought to herself. One was barely old enough to be trained never mind a front line soldiger but she had no choice. "Alright people lets get this over with." She orderd as her band of 14 men snuck towards the Forge camp.
Upon arriveing at the camp they were taken back by the stench of corruption and death. Vashnu saw severl of her men, whom had been taken prisoner, sacrificed to Sergarras. She raised her hand to order the attack when she heard a scream. From no were an Infernal had crushed half off her men. She spun round fireing an arrow into its chest, but to no avail. "Fall back to the Hold!" she yelled! The entire Forge camp was lit up by this point and were moving to her group. She ran between the legs off the infernal, the flames scarring her armour. Running now at full sprint she looked to see who was following her. Only her own shadow was behind her.
After severl hours of running and hideing she stopped and fell to the ground exhausted, and wept. How long had it been since she had gotten the distress call from the Shattard sun? How long had it been since Kael claimed the Exodar? "All is lost" she mutterd. Crawling slowly she arrived at the runins off which she presumed was the Crossroads. "Im nearly home". She made her way to the camp her forces, mainly refugees, had set up in the Wailing caverns. She stood her self up and heard that roar she had grown to hate. The roar of a Fel Rever in the distence. She hurried along to camp.
Corpses hung from the entrence of the cave, charred flesh could be smelt for miles round, a single child lay dead at the cave entrence. Vashnu stepped forword. She new what was inside. Trudgeing through the cave she found the bodies of Dreanei, Elf, Orc, Human and what ever survivors they had found. Peering at the blood smeared walls she forced herself on words, barely any corpse was left unmutelated. She arrived at the Command center of the cave to find everyone dead as expected and her tents smouldering in that crimson flame. She moved to her own tent, now a scrap of cloth, and curled up into a ball, the last few months had taken a toll on her. Her bad ass and cheery attitudes were as dead as Stormwind now. She lay there for hours, which turned into days, speaking into her communication crystal. "Please, someone" she mumbled. On the fifth day off crying she stood and left the cave.
She had heard from survivors that there was a camp of refugees in the deserts of Silthils. She set off with only her bow to keep her company. A trip to the edge of the Barrens, which would have taken an hour at most, turned into a week long trip. She had to dodge Legion patrols, manover around slave camps, and such. She reached were the "Great lift" once was. "Oh for..." she cursed peering down to the Thousand needles. The lift was gone. And the area below was a huge Fel camp as far as the eys could see. Even if she did survive the fall or managed to scale the cannyon wall, she'd be set upon by Legion forces with in seconds. "How the Fel do I cross that!?" She thought for a second about going through Ferals and sneaking round the other side of the Thousand Needles, but she had heard that the forest/jungle was now a Fel hound breeding ground....."I think I'll pass on Feralas".
That night she sat awake wondering if Revane, Solaaru, Northwall, Feanon ect were alive. It was then that the idea struck her. She new how she'd get to Gadgetzan's ruins at least.
She sat on the ridge for 4 hours waiting. She tried to tell the time by the skys, but they were long since blackend. She had almost given up hope when she heard the roar. "About time" The Fel Rever marched slowly, with big paces mind you. She stood on the ridge wating for the Rever to pass. When it was level with the ridge she leeped forword! Clinging to the knee of the rever. It took little notice of her and marched on towards the Forge camp at Gadgetzans runins.
After the short walk across the Thousand Needless, Vashni hoped off of the Revers knee just short of Gadgetzan. Resting for a few seconds she cheered lightly at having been so lazy.
"Now to cross the Un'Goro Crater".....she knew nothing of what lay down there.....
Guak stood atop of the mountain that once was the Shrine of the Dorment Flame, she had been up there for the five years, Alone... Tired... Only going down to collect food from wherever she could get it, She had alot of memories on this mountain top, it is where she had truely spoke to Gremkarc.. It was somewhere she always felt happy.. But now it was just a tomb for the demons who came across it. For the first few years of this invasion Guak had the hope of seeing her "friends" again.. But that later turned from hope.. into an impossible goal. In the recent years she had begun to question why she was still fighting back, Was it she believed the Legion would be destroyed and everything would go back to how it was? Was it the remaining spirits around the shrine watching over her? She didn't know.. All she knew was this was her "holy" ground, And no fel-infused demons were setting foot on it.. Not while she was still breathing.
The sands of Tanaris were shifting on the surface in tunnel shape, implying something was tunneling its way through the desert. It was moving at an alarming speed, hurtling past the entrance to the caverns of time, which was now a massive crater, due to an accidentally-triggered explosion by a foolish Imp, who had tried to manipulate time and space, allowing his brethren to pass through into other worlds, dimensions and times. Unfortunately, all did not go to plan. When the explosion happened, it could of been heard from miles away. That was years ago now.
The object tunneled unrelentlessly through the sand, bursting forth from underground occasionally, to reveal a muddy-red coloured egg thing, before diving back into the sands. It had been travelling for at least a day now, ever since the first assault on the Union Camp.
When it reached the ridge that lay before the beach, which now had green-tinted water slopping on its shoars as oppose to the crystal-clear blue of what it used to be, it smashed through the rocky area and came to rest next to an old snapjaw shell. The pod burst open, a sickly green gas pouring forth from it. In the midst of the gas could be seen a figure. It staggered forward and collapsed in a heap on the beach.
Mornu'nutarus held his neck in pain. Obviously, he had taken a gun wound to the neck by stray gun fire and hadn't noticed it due to his demonic rage, but now it was asserting itself as much as it possibly could. He groaned and whispered something in Eredun, making a small, chitinous plate seem to grow out of the side of his neck and cover the gunshot wound. It healed him and sat on his neck, looking like a great parasite.
After several minutes, the pain was gone. The demonic parasite-thing retreated back into Mornu'nutarus's neck and hissed slightly as it did so. Heaving himself up, Kil'jaeden's servitor suddenly regained his lust for anything evil or immoral.
He ran towards the darkening horizon, an unnaturally beautiful sight it was, indeed. Green light cascaded over the red, ashen skies and for a moment before dipping down below the visible area, the sun turned a normal shade of light yellow, the rays casting over Mornu'nutarus as if there was still some hope for him. The light revealed the blood-stains that drenched his trenchcoat, the blood of both him and his many enemies. He grimaced behind his mask and thought about his life and the beginning of his undeath. He had never known it would lead to this....
He pulled the trenchcoat over his chest and unbuttoned his shirt to reveal an unsuprisingly battered chest. His grimace turned into a scowl as he poked the massive hole and the throbbing muscle where the Forsaken torture amplifier had once sat....the demons had had to rip out his own heart when removing this shackle to a life ruled over by the Dark Lady and replace it with a demon heart. It throbbed gently as it pumped demonic blood through his human veins....
"Just like Grom Hellscream....." He muttered to himself in deep thought.
The rays of pure sunlight dissapeared as the sun dipped below the horizon, but Mornu'nutarus had long gone. Where to? He did not know. He wanted to quench his insatiable thirst for blood once again.
The sand whipped around his torn trenchcoat as he huddled in its loving grip....and then he thought of Noviala. One of the only Forsaken he ever considered a true friend....and he had loved her dearly. It was in the month prior to Kil'jaeden's summoning that he had discovered she was missing. An unwanted lump formed in his throat as he thought about the last time he had seen her. The throne room of Undercity, she had blown him a kiss and walked off, ready to go on her adventures once again.....but that was not to be.
Mornu'nutarus thought about the thing Kil'jaeden had tought him to think about in this situation. Her, dead in some godforsaken place, killed by a mortal race of Azeroth....and that was why they must be purged. The bloodlust returned to him again.
Stopping in his tracks, Mornu'nutarus saw several figures in the distance. No horns. No tails. No flaming skin. It was a Union patrol. He cast the Rain of Fire upon them before they could attack. It was time for his thirst to be relinquished. They had survived the impacts, all but one, who lay dead or unconcious in the sand. Once again, Mornu'nutarus drew the Blade of Sylvanas and stood, waiting in the whipping sands of the desert for the slaughter that he believed was about to commence.
After two long hours of waiting for insperation she took one step into the crator and heard a bang. "I'd recognise that sound anywhere....a gun?". Knowing that the Legion didnt tend to use such weaponary she turned back to Tanaris and sprinted to where she had heard the gun shot. "Come on legs dont fail me now!"
Arrieving at the firey remains of the Union camp Vash noticed a few figures on the Horizon. "Feanon. Myrion? It cant be!" she exclaimed aloud. The sand storm and darkness of the night had lowerd her vision but she could recognise them well enough. They were surrounded by Fel guards, Vashnu took no time in surveying the scene and charged in fireing her crossbow. Five Fel guards had spotted her and were almost upon her when she threw down her crossbow and took out Legacy, her axe. The first fel guard made a sweep down with his sword, rolling out of the way Vashnu hacked his arm off and in the same movement silt open the belly of the second guard. The Fel guards blood sprayed across her like a wave from the ocean. Turning to face off the 3 remaing guards Vashnu grined. "Bring it!" she yelled. It was, in that foul moment, she dropped her axe. Grunting in pain she fell to her knees. "Guh! No not now!" she yelled in Eredun. Stunned by her sudden change the Fel guards stopped short of her. Clutching her shoulder pad, she ripped it off in one movement to revel the wound she recieved on Argus milliena ago. In her haste to find the survivors she had forgotten about the Fel infected wound. BEing so close, and indeed immersed, in Fel tainted blood the wound had started to change her. She reached in her bag for a potion to lower the Fel energy, however her bag lay a good 10 feet away, it had been caught in the swipe from the first Fel Guard. "No....no NO!" she yelled in Eredun as the infection rapidally spread across her body. Her skin paled, her eyes ozzed with Fel energy, she quickly expanded in sise about another foot. She was going through a change, to something, not as large as a Man'ari or Eredar, but just as bad. "If...I go down....Im takeing you with me" she roared in Eredun with a demonic tone. With the last ounce of her sanity she charged the Fel guards. The first one was caught unawre and she leaped towards his head, grabbing hold of it she tore it from his body with her new found strength! The second one how ever was ready, it swung at her, though she was too quick, she picked up the first Fel guards weapon and thrust it under his sword and into his belly. She then threw the sword at the first Fel guard cutting it clean in half! Peering forword she saw her old ally Iliaster, whom seemed to be commanding the Legion here. "Die traitor" she mutterd in Eredar. But even as she said it she thought to herself "Why do I fight the Legion? They wil surely win. And look what they have given me! Power! Immortality! Feanon and Myrion would be fools to reject this! Perhaps if I aid Ilia hereshe will put in a good word for me!" In the time she had stopped to ponder this idea Myrion had moved to engage Iliaster in combat. "Hold on Ilaster! A new power comes to you're aid!" Sprinting forword with Legacy in hand she aimed herself for Myrion....
Talk about unlikely allies... Cail had found the Sin'Dorei mage while scouting the outskirts of Ratchet, by a cliff where they'd once trained warlocks; it had been on one of the last boats out of Booty Bay on which she had first arrived in the Barrens, and the last one to ever make it to port. As far as she was aware, she herself was the sole survivor of that last batch of refugees, mainly because of having been awake at ungodly hours to spot the fires in Ratchet and abandon ship before it, in turn, was spotted. That had been ages ago. Years, surely. She couldn't follow the season anymore, not when everything was green sludge, twisted black trees, sand coloured red by spilled blood... Oh, girl, you never were a poet, she reminded herself, focusing on the task at hand.
Yes, the Great Lift was gone, but the spymaster wasn't short of tricks. She'd thought of climbing, but had never found ropes that wouldn't have broken at a tug. Now, she had different means. Oh, it had been a royal pain in the backside to get this guy, Rosethorn - Carrot Top, as she called him - back on his feet, and much more to get him actually working like a mage should, but now.
"If this fails, Ald, I'll make sure you land first," she remarked, wrapping her long arms around the smaller man's neck and giving him a last wicked grin. "And I land on you."
"Not to worry," the redheaded mage replied confidently, he in turn wrapping his own hands around her waist and holding her tightly. They spoke a mix of Darnassian and Thalassian, a hybrid language they'd been developing since she'd first dug him out from under a landslide. It was quite clumsy still, but served its purpose. "I've done this countless times. The feathers may not be the best around... But one makes do with what one can." He wasn't fooling anyone; the fear was evident in his eyes as he flashed her a grin to melt hearts - if it hadn't been that his preferences ran for he other gender. "It only hurts once."
They paused for one moment, nodded at each other and, holding on for dear life, jumped over the cliff that marked the border between the Barrens and Thousand Needles. Cail would never admit to screaming like a girl in public, but right then, she did. Then the slowfall spell took effect.
North-west of Tanaris. Zul'Farrak.
Blood. Clings of steel. Death. It all sung it's melody, as Threm cleaved demon after demon. Satyrs, felguards. Threm was a fast runner; that was sure. He had gotten to Zul'Farrak in minutes. "Come on...! This all that...demon can give?! Weaklings...!" Threm yelled.
A few minutes later...
Death. Destruction. But, for some reason, not among the good. The dead corpses of the Legion lay there, in a huge pile. Threm? He was running. He was not done. The demons had yet not paid the price. Threm was normally the sort of orc who didn't think of the past. He killed his own brother, because he had done a crime against the new Horde. But he didn't care about that. He didn't care about what would happen to anyone. A few years back, Threm didn't like company. He visited many dangerous places alone. But it wasn't because he disliked people. He just disliked people who came in his way. Except one. His master. His brother in blood. HIs very best friend. The Clawlord, Verdauga.
Within a few minutes, Threm got into the fray of fighting, killing everything demon-like in sight. Then...
He saw two male elves...one on the ground, one shouting at him. And a female one, about to bring his staff down at the elf on the ground. Normally. He hadn't cared about it. He loathed elves, and their magic. But maybe...he thought to himself.
"Maybe it's...time for...a change." He charged at the female elf, attempting to block out the way and have the axe and the staff collide. In a symphony of death and destruction, he charged.
Myrion looked up pitifully into the eyes of his love, not even trying to defend himself against the staff, allowing it to crash against his skull. It was a minor wound though, healed quickly by his newfound, Elune-gained powers Slowly standing he continued to look her in the eye, bathing himself in that same blue glow. As he walked towards her the demons turned to fight him off, but the second they came into contact with the blue shield they began to spasm and retch violently.
Finally he reached her, he was standing less than a metre away from her, turning he saw the orc running towards her, weapon raised. In despration he commanded the glow to surround her as well, and as the weapon fell against her it bounced away. "This isn't your battle" he grunted to the orc. Even as he stood there, the woman that had been the love of his life battered him with swings of her staff, but with every blow he just stood up again, until eventually he could touch her. Cautiously he pulled off her mask to see if it was true, he ran his hand along her cheek, tracing the markings on her face like he had so many years ago. Silently he knelt down, and grabbed her legs, weeping into them uncontrollably.
Lyssah had been at home, hanging her freshly washed clothes on the line to dry, when she heard the faint roaring of demons in the distance, coming from the direction of Silvermoon. Upon activating her communication gems, the roaring had become much, much louder, people calling for help that way, though no help seemed to be coming. Many crystals shattered.
As the roaring became louder, the skies darkened, and Lyssah ran inside and grabbed the first bag she could see. On a wild search for any preservable food, she started filling it, before adding several flasks of water in it. She hoped it would be enough. She took a different gem from her bag, shouting in it, while she ran outside. "Zero! Atelic! Please tell me you weren't in the city!" She kept listening for a while, but neither would respond. She assumed that the skies had blocked the crystal's link. She tucked it in her bag just in case the signal might come back, then whistled, looking up at the skies.
The roaring of a wyvern could be heard, his paws barely heard as he landed on the grass in front of her. He didn't seem to be comfortable, and she could damn well understand that. She sprinted towards him, leaping onto his back, before ordering him to take off. She took a last glance at her home, before directing the wyvern to the north, to see what had been happening.
She flew as low as she could without letting herself get noticed by the legion's demons, and as soon as she noticed the corpse of Sithren Strifeheard spiked in front of the gates, she stared at it in shock, her skin turning as pale as it could go. "..If he has gone down, then there's little we can do to stop them," she muttered quietly, tears running down her cheeks as she flew over the city, not knowing what had become of her husband and her son. She saw the demons on the ramp leading to the Sunfury Spire, trying to breach through the sealed doors, and as they did, she could hear the cries coming out of there, before everything went quiet, apart from the roaring of the demons. She steered her wyvern away from all of it, sobbing quietly.
--- Several years later ---
She sat in a cold cave, weak light coming in through the roster above her, on wich a palmtree had fallen and was now burning softly with felgreen flames, never dying out. She sighed weakly as she channeled some magic into the purple barrier that she had set up, one below the roster in the ceiling of the cave, and one at the enterance of the cave, which had also been keeping out the fel-tainted seawater. She had altered the spell slightly, so that she only had to channel some magic into it three times a day to keep it up. "Turns out those Essence tricks still come in handy," she sighed quietly.
She went to sit in a corner of the weakly illuminated cave, holding her head into her hands. It is how she had spent every day since she arrived here, hoping. She had been hoping everyone she had cared about had survived.
Suddenly her buzzbox lived up, crackling producing a message.
"The resista- .... -ot fallen!
We're still holed up in Cenarion ho-... -ithus, there´s still hope for all of us, we´ve food, wat- .. -apons! Together, we could stri-... -ack and reclaim Kalimdor!
For the Union!"
Some bits were unable to be understood, but the message came through to her mind loud and clear. Quickly grabbing her bag, which she basically only carried about for the clothes and communication gems that remained in there. She glanced at the barrier at the entrance, noticing that the water was high, and that she wouldn't be able to go through that way. She glanced up, at the flaming tree, and drained the magic of the barrier she had kept up there, refreshening her slightly. She formed a rather large fireball in her hands, and blasted it against the roster. The blast was hard enough for it to rip loose out of the weakened ground, incinerating the tree that had been lying on top of it.
She whistled, hoping that her wyvern would come, though at first, it seemed he wasn't. She desperately whistled again, this time a faint roar of a wyvern could be heard, before it leaped through the freshly made hole. Her heart leaped at the sight of her wyvern, it's wings ragged and it's skin dirty. "Hey there," she said quietly, stroking the beast's manes. "You look terrible, though I'm glad you survived." She ran her hand over it's back, before swinging a leg over him, taking a good hold of him. "Think you can carry me once again?" The wyvern roared in response, taking off through the hole in the floor, quickly dodging a Satyr that had been storming towards them. Lyssah formed another fireball, tossing it down at the Satyr, though it was too weak to take it down, it did damage him.
Leaving the island in the Barrens behind, she ordered her wyvern to go to the south, to where the Union was supposedly holding up. As she flew over Tanaris she could hear the roaring of attacking demons. Rather than flying to Cenarion Hold, she headed into the direction of the sound. Perhaps someone needed her help. Kicking her wyvern softly in the sides, they sped up, they didn't have time to lose on this one. It had been ages since she had seen anyone, she could better see if she could help.
Flying over the besieged camp, she noticed a couple of familiar figures. She recognised three of them, Vashnu, Feanon and Myrion, though her mouth fell open at the sight of Vashnu sprinting towards Myrion, her axe raised. She didn't know what was going on, but she couldn't afford to wait until Vashnu had made her move. She formed a sharp-tipped icelance in her hand, directing her wyvern low on the ground. She made sure she was flying in the opposite direction of Vashnu, approaching her with great speed as she held out the icelance, letting go if it as she passed Vashnu. She didn't look over her shoulder to see if it had been a hit or not. She formed fireballs in her hands, tossing them at several of the demons that came rushing towards the small group. She glanced over her shoulder into the direction of the camp, and flew off to it as she saw a demon was ravaging through one of the tents, paniced shouts coming out of it, before going quiet.
She grumbled angrily, jumping off the wyvern, waving it away. She looked around, and it didnt take long before she had found what she had been looking for. Picking up the rock, she started heating it up, setting fire to it. As it was turned into a pyroblast, she hurled the rather large spell towards the demon ravaging through the tent, blasting it away, before burning it down to the floor.
She stood at the camp, glancing around. She saw several faces she knew, then spotted Martin Northwall. She stumbled slightly towards him, leaning on his shoulder lightly for support. "Hello, Martin," she spoke quietly, her shredded, dirty robes waving in the winds, the once bright colours faded away. "It has been a while, hasn't it?" She glanced at him, smiling lightly, before sending another blast towards a demon approaching them rapidly. The demon fell to it's back, motionless. "And stay down!" she yelled at it angrily.
From a young orc girl to a tough looking orc woman.
She walked though the dust a robe desighned for the land worn over her metal armor. The axe on her back strung like a lute and the bag on her shulder was ornately decorated though it was dusty and dirty and obviusly once belonged to the lost bard.
She walked up to the group in the camp in the temporary brake in the fighting looking over everyne then speaking in a strong clear well spoken voice.
"It warms my orcish heart to see you still fighting. Though I assume I must sing my tails of those fallen warriors again."
She then looked at Northwall her violet eyes narrowing the rest of her face gladly hidden under the cloth scarves wraped around her face to keep out the dust and sand.
"Protector of the cities? The Sparrow should still be flying and you let him fall alon! The dragon of the elves is pinned on a spike! The lord and lady of blood are dead! You could have aided the city and you did not!"
No one else seemed to exist at that moment to her exept the person she was realy angry with.
She was much stronger than she'd ever been before, physically. Still, splitting a hardened warrior's skull the same way as a child's would have been wishful thinking, and somehow, after that first hit, after the scowl of utter hate and contempt still hidden by a black mask, she couldn't manage another quite as powerful. For the first time in ages and ages again, she was... confused. Threatened to be taken over by a flood of emotions she'd locked away good in those years following the invasion, back when she hadn't known her way.
It was an unlikely source that gave her final pause; Vashnu, behind her, charging and calling out to... Iliaster... A name that had once been hers... The name these people had called her... And it echoed on Feanon's lips, and grew into a noise that drowned out the battle and the sandstorm in her mind. Even as the others sprung into action around them again, her staff fell from her powerless grip, and she could do nothing besides stare helplessly as Myrion removed the mask protecting her face.
That same way, she was frozen in place as the man fell to his knees and wept. She was beyond joining in his tears, but just learning, the hard way, how difficult it was to utterly seal away unwanted emotions. So much hate she had gathered and cultivated, hate for all things weak and pitiful... Hate for those who let themselves be ruled by fear, and in an instant it all turned inward, when she found herself fearing more than ever before. A violent shudder ran through her body as she stood, her expression one of a lost, terrified child.
he patrol dissolved from a well-organised marchh into a mass of confused and panicking soldiers. Screams and yells from bodies burned by the conflagration from the skies rang out, and the leader of the Union patrol, a veteran Orc by the name of Krug Lek'tar, growled. He hated weakness, and this, to him, was the ultimate insult. Bellowing orders and war cries, he and his right-hand man began to charge the hill upon which their attacker stood. To Krug, it felt as though he were charging through waves of corruption. He swung his scarred and pitted axe in circles above his head. Looking back momentarily, he glimpsed the seargeant rallying the patrol, who chased their leader up the hill, calling and whooping.
Krug felt pride, hate, and bloodlust rise in his chest in equal measure, and he roared like the beasts he hunted in his homeland. Krug's tattered mail armour clinked dully as he charged, and his footsteps, and those of his patrolmen rose to a cresendo, blotting out all other sounds. The very ground seemed to vibrate under their furious charge, and as Krug crested the hill, he hurled himself at the foe with reckless abandon. The men following broke upon the undead enemy like a furious tsunami of flesh and steel.
Casiuss looked over the "Base camp"...Around 28 Gnomes sitting around a campfire in a dank cave in the Stonetalon mountains. Heh..The idea of Liberation was now a lost dream..they had been so close! Then...the damned longlegs had summoned the great devourer.
Casiuss shook his head, the longlegs couldn't be blamed - they had to all work together to survive.
"Irradium!" The General barked "Its your watch! If you see anyone friendly, let them know they are welcome in our camp!
Irradium shook himself out of his reverie at the sound of his General's voice. He half-turned his head, and was barely heard over the crackling of the fire.
"Yes...General." Then he turned on his heel and stepped over the sleeping from of Centurion Tiggi. He looked long into Casiuss's eyes, then spoke. "General....Casiuss....What are we doing here? Can you answer me that, or are we like the rest of these wayward souls," He gestured out of the cave. "Stumbling around, waiting to be reaped as corn before the farmer's scythe?" Irradium rolled his shoulder, and walked back to the mouth of the cave, and sat. "If we are...then the Devourer has won." Irradium growled. "Someone has to fight back. How long has it been since we last saw anyone who wasn't dead or corrupted? Two years?" Irradium sighed, pulling his cloak in tighter. "The Union needs help. I don't think this happened to me for no reason." Hie lifted up his corrupted arm, before letting it drop.
As the moonlight bleached the mountain range red, a light shone. There is always a light...
She had been amazed at how quickly after first spotting the demons the battle had begun. Within mere seconds, regardless of the sandstorm, they were upon them and rivers of blood stained the sand to crimson and little pools gathered, glistening in the moonlight sickeningly. Once she had been reassured the camp was beginning to react she had found her group of rangers under her command and led them to the battle. Now they stood at a distance launching countless volleys of arrows with a rangers precision, never once striking down and ally.
Regardless of the camps defence the demons kept pushing forward though with many of them simply ignoring the arrows that lodged in their chests and limbs. It took an exact shot to get them down. Soon they had been pushed back to the edge of the camp. She even saw, and certainly heard, a fel reaver make an appearence further back in the battle. That was not her worry though and they continued to fire. After a while though the demons had punctured a hole in the line of foot soldiers and poured through towards them as well.
"Draw blades! Fight 'til the end! Show them what rangers are made of!" She yelled out across the sand, she ignored the sand that now lined her mouth and simply spat out once before drawing a set of twin blades at her side. The rest of the group behind her followed suit and charged towards the oncoming demons yelling their war cries.
Librael was the first to reach them as she had been at the head of the group anyway. She leapt towards the nearest felguard crossing her blades and slicing at his neck, severing the head in one clean swipe. She landed in a kneeling position on the body of the beast which still fidgeted slightly. She didn't have long to commend such a clean kill though as more were soon on them. There was now less time for such smooth kills and she swung her blades blocking various attacks and slashing at what ever exposed skin and scales she saw on the beasts.
She was so engulfed in the battle eventually that she barely heard the cries of her old pupil coming from behind. She just about caught the whisper of it in time to turn and see a demon bounding towards her. And she didn't seem to notice.
"Keep fighting!" Lib yelled as she slashed her way through the demons, ducking, twisting and slashing between, under and straight through the demons until she had a clear run at the demon heading at Tupai. She ran as fast as her legs would allow until she realised the demon had to much of a headstart. She drew her bow and launched an arrow praying for that 'exact' shot. The arrow began to glow with arcane energies and then was pelting through the air. It's tip went through the scales and skin like a knife through butter and smoke rose where the arcane energies touched. A shot to the head and the demon was down.
"Tupai!" She ran up and hugged the young gi- no...she was a woman now. Her features were so very similar, only older. Still very pretty, in times now past she would have probably had the man of her dreams. yet that side of life was now to be denied to her. Regardless she was so happy to see her again. Then she remembered the current situation. "Tupai, it's to late to run now. Draw your blade and hope we survive this...Rangers! For all that has fallen these demons shall pay ten fold! Make them suffer and know our true strength! We shall -not- fall so easily as they seem to think!"
Shase had reached Silithus. And His eyes lit up at the sight of the Battle a little way off. Shase looked at it and roared, This time his Roar found words, In The Eredari he had once spoken on Argus, "Tainted Bretheren, You are not long for this world! Be you Man'ari, Felblood or what ever The legion has warped you into being! For Shase The Aman of Karabor is Returned! For The light, The Dying Naaru, and For The dead themselves!!" His voice was enough to make a few demons on the outlying regions of the battle glance in his direction, and he was runnign at them all, Drawing his Ancient Warblade, Yelling at the top of his lungs, And the demons Ran to meet him, One flapped its warped wings and was upon him, but in one motion the Demon in flight was gripped by a spectral force, and slammed to the floor, and then a instant later, his head had a whole clean through it, and he slumped. Shase then ran on, Hurling a Coil of Necromatic energy at a Wrathguard, slaying it instantly, and then he engaged a Man'ari in Close quarters, The man'ari was strong, but Neither Skilled nor Agile enough to outlast Shase, and he fell after a few seconds. Shase roared again, This time only "For the dead!" And charged into the thick of the battle, Slaughtering any Demons who dared step close, and making his way towards the main body of United Azerothian fighters, his blade tracing savage arcs, using his raw swirling emotions to grant him Un-precedented Speed and fury, he was like a Orcish Elder Weaponsmaster of old, Striking and yelling at the top of his lungs.
If a soldier dies alone in the distant woodland, do they truly die at all?
With no one to tell of their end or the events leading towards it, did the event ever truly take place?
The Felwood has grown darker... The tainted tree's rotten leaves have turned to green fire, poison smoke roars into the atmosphere making the blackened sky darker still.
A platoon of Felguards and Felhounds walk through the hellish woodland, marching their way to the desert down south, the hounds yelp and bark for the flesh of men and orcs alike, easing ever closer to the last stand of Azeroth's governing races...
A hound is taken up in a net and an explosion tears through two of the Felguards. Before the demons can reorganize themselves the dark figure of Croix bursts out of the trees, plunging twin daggers into the neck of a larger red demon, leading the pack.
The remaining Felguard constricts his two hounds by chains, holding them back, he looks upon the dark outline of Croix, blood dripping from her hands, with only the white shine of her eyes visable to the vile creature.
The Demon stays his hand for a moment, believing from the sheer ferocity of the attack that this female could be one of them. But it soon realizes this is not the case.
The hounds are released and Croix covers her eyes before an impossibly bright light of holy energy cuts through the remaining demons, clearing to reveal Kalsath...
A smile eases it's way across Croix's face. "I could have taken them all, y'know."
"But what fun would that be for me?" Kalsath remarks before cutting down the net containing the captured Felhound and breaking the creature's neck.
A horn is heared... The legion have discovered the soldier's presence.
"Shit..." Croix sheathes her daggers. "Lets go."
Kalsath sits upon a mound of rotten grass, a fire rages behind him... The smoke from the Paladin's pipe fills the air around him, he thinks of a different time.
Croix throws a lump of Felhound meat onto Kalsath's lap and sits next to him, lighting a cigarette. "I've been fiddling with the old military communication stone... It's mostly static but a few different voices have mentioned a last stand in the desert..."
"A last stand for who? There's nobody left, Croix..."
"Ever the optimist, eh?" Croix takes a bite out of the hound meat.
"I can't feel the presence of the light as i once could... I dream of Shattrath on fire... What will become of us?"
"Whatever we want..." The Death Knight scratches her neck and listens to the air... No wind and no water flowing.
"Everyone is dead."
"C'mon Kal... The end of the world isn't so bad."
Croix smiles at the comment before jerking her head around to the noise of screaming... Perhaps not screaming... A war cry?
"Did you hear that?" THUNK! An arrow darts through Croix's shoulder.
Kalsath darts to his feet, casting a number of protection spells upon himself, looking around with narrow eyes.
Croix lies on the floor clutching her shoulder yelling all manner of profanities in common that no respectable scribe could document.
A creature with jaws of razor teeth seizes the Paladin from behind and feeds from his flesh.
"Kalsath!" Croix pulls a rusty pistol from the back of her belt with her good arm and goes to fire but is pinned back down by three more arrows.
As Kalsath is torn apart, Croix lies back on the floor... A large platoon of demons rides through their campsite on their way to whatever task was assigned them... The two lonely soldiers, meerly an obsticle in their path... A snack.
Croix looks over to the remains of her cousin and back towards the demons as they advance on her from all sides... "Come and get it, you fucking animals."
Of course, these events could have never occurred... This could simply be hersay or myth passed around the camp in Tanaris...
For if a soldier dies alone in the distant woodland, do they truly die at all?
Out of nowhere came a troop of soldiers on orange raptors. ‘Fo’ tha Steppe!’ the front soldier yelled, seeming to be the leader. When seeing the elf and the demons he grinned. ‘We found tha prey boys, and even a tiny elf!’ They all grinned and charged onto the demons. The demons roared as they began their attack onto the mysterious new soldiers. Joco jumped from his raptor and pulled his two giant axes. ‘Come, beastie!’ The raptor started a killing spree within the ranks of the demons. The other trolls yelled insults as they killed the beasts one by one. But the demons weren’t done yet. Out of the woods around them came more demons this time Wrathguards. Joco smiled, ‘More fun boys!’ And he rushed to the new demons cutting in them with his axes. As he saw a doomguard charging at the elf he quickly threw his axe at it and cut of the demons head as it fell next to the elf.