“Look at what we have here a damsel in distress. stay back, let this fight be Beast vs Monster.”
Drosk would then transform into the Worgen beast. As he uses his grappling hook to fly through the air jumping from building to building, trying to get enough air. after reaching the tallest point. he jumps off the edge striking like a comet. Striking the Monster down with enhanced blades filled with azure shadows.
“Damn, I’m good!”
Saving Drosk?
Damien smiles
Would be fun… to play along, play the hero, save the wounded Rogue from the demon-beast
Grab his paws, help on his feat, lead him to safety… who am I kiding, to lead him in to a more deadly trap than this one!
After all, in truth, his enemy is one of my best summons!
One word would be enough, command it to stop, and he would live…
Sadly, he is too good
Knows too much
Its too early to risk exposure…
Thus, Dorsk must die
Everyone will blame the Horde and the Undead… as they should
Save him, but soon realize what she’s done and what a horrible monster Damien is. Then she puts him down herself.
While struggling to underestand what is going on between Dâmien and Talrea, the demon hunter is uncertain if he should join the fray and if yes, who should he aid.
Both are members of the Alliance and both are wielding potent powers.
Shalim decides to not interfiere as he cannot distinguish the victim from attacker.
“The more skilled should win.” says the demon hunter to himself just before he witnesses Talrea being knocked back under the impact of chaos bolt. After he sees the worgen leaping at her, he turns away…
This will be disgusting and he just had a delicious dinner.
When she saw the lone demon hunter just turning away from danger, Aphrea knew something was not right.
She pulled an arrow from her quiver and watched patiently as a terrible enemy lurked behind her ally. When the time was right, she let a swift kiss of death fly from her hands, saving the life of a careless demon hunter.
“Would be a shame for him to die so brainlessly.” - she whispered, trying to calm her mind full of fantasies.
Watching the hunter’s life be in mortal danger, Silalinda glanced to her opponents. She’d been saved by those of the Alliance before. And maybe… this could be a step, however small, to show that not all in red were… well, that they didn’t all fit the current image of the Horde. Seeing that she wouldn’t be attacking her own - she starts moving, gathering Arcane energies towards her, before killing the beast that had been sneaking up on the Night Elf from behind.
When he first saw this Blood Elven mage, Tanmayne gnarled in anger. He relished at the sole thought of getting revenge for his family, killed by the Horde’s forces in Teldrassil. More so, the Sin’dorei female seemed to be gathering her Arcane energy to cast a fatal spell on the Night Elf huntress; all Worgen owed a debt to Kal’dorei and Tanmayne was eager to help.
Yet to his surprise he observed as Silalinda cast a volley of arcane missiles not into the Kaldorei’s back - but onto a beast, lurking in shadows. Animal instinct ordered Tanmayne to wait for the events to happen without interference, at least for a while.
When the Elves greeted each other with silent nods, ready to part their ways, the Worgen suddenly smelled a distinct odour, coming from the wayside. In one second he realised females were in danger - a rogue was waiting, just as Tanmayne, for the development of the situation. Was it an Old God cultist, ready to plant mistrust between two factions, or just a random robber - it didn’t bother Tanmayne.
He lept from the bushes, howling as loud and hateful as a whole wolfpack amidst a winter storm. Even if Silalinda had blood on her hands dating long into the past, she did a good deed today. This cannot go unnoticed, it would be unfair. Unfair as burning his family, good and innocent people, alive in the Tree. He wouldn’t let this happen. Never.
In the next second Tanmayne ripped the rogue’s throat open with a splash of blood.
Mist covered his eyes while blows of his paws were falling one after another like thunders. When he could breathe normally again, the Worgen discovered he unconsciously morphed into the human form and that he dropped on four limbs. Crouching in a puddle of blood, he wore nothing but frayed rags. There was no sign of Silalinda anywhere near, but he somehow knew she was safe.
At least she was. Tanmayne got up on his human feet and staggered a bit. He felt tired and a little disgusted with the animal rage even though he had time to get used to it. But most importantly Tanmayne felt he repayed a debt for those who couldn’t. The Worgen noted in thoughts that he should mention Silalinda’s kindness to someone in Stormwind, to make sure she wasn’t saved just to be killed by a bullet from a dwarven musket.
It was all over now. Tanmayne felt somewhat proud of his deed, although only a few would believe him. It was a good day after all.
On a Winged Steed of the Ebon Blade, high above, the Forsaken known as Morfinn grinned as he watched Tanmayne reduce his foe to pulp.
“Good lad!” the Death Knight rasped, also taking a moment to appreciate the Ornate Spyglass gifted to him by a fellow Death Knight, coincidentally a worgen.
As Morfinn watched, an unsavory creature was creeping up on the tired beastman, obviously intending to take advantage of the fact that the worgen’s valorous deed had left him exposed.
Morfinn’s undead grin instantly changed into a furious face of death, refusing to let the delightfully beastly worgen die like that.
Utilizing another gift from his aforementioned fellow Death Knight, Morfinn dove off the bony gryphon, drawing his runed two-handed axe as he aimed his spiky-armored undead body at Tanmayne’s dispicable assailant.
A few seconds before impact, the death knight deployed his parachute, just within effective range to cast dreadful spells on the worgen’s attacker.
The miscreant reared up in agony, and the plate-clad Forsaken laughed as he hacked enthusiastically at Tanmayne’s adversary.
Morfinn hacked and slashed, ripped and tore, until there was nothing left but a few scraps of blood-stained flesh.
Aphranas watched his back from a safe distance and the saddle of her flyer, as both she and the Death Knight were sent on the same mission - to scout the Alliance’s backyard.
From the beginning of their journey the magistrix tried not to talk with her companion too much and to focus on their target, but Aphranas’ past was still lurking somewhere in the deeps of her subconsciousness. How could she work with the undead, even if he denied the Lich King’s will? Indeed, he was literally forsaken by humans, just as her people were, but still…
There was no time for thinking though, as a line of soldiers appeared on the horizon. Full battalion of riflemen marched to their position before upcoming battle with the Horde’s forces. Aphranas was too far from her companion to warn him before Morfinn would get in their range. Yet should she really warn… him?
Sin’dorei shook her head nervously as cruel thoughts came to her mind. She could leave him be. Let the undead tryumph on his victim and get executed by those musketeers. One volley and its over. They are too many and he…
He was the Horde’s soldier. Loyal, honorable. Morfinn didn’t let that Worgen die for honor’s sake. He wouldn’t let her die if he was in her place now. Thus the magistrix’s mind was set. She felt focused again.
Aphranas took a deep breath. She alligned it with her steed’s movements and now the wings’ pacing calmed her. Sin’dorei reached deep into her connection with fire and felt sparks, jumping between her toes, as if she was being set aflame.
The riflemen were coming closer. They noticed the Death Knight as he just finished looting his opponent of precious belongings. Aphranas knew those were the last moments before his fall… or escape.
She bare in mind her dead family, slaughtered by the Scourge. Their sole memory made her weep to this day. “He isn’t like them” - she thought - “He is my ally.” With an enourmous effort the magistrix whispered an incantation.
“Selama ashal’anore!”
Mana drain was so strong as if someone grabbed a parasite, living in her very vital organs, and torn it apart from Aphranas’ flesh. She felt explosion of pain, overwhelming her body from the bottom to the top. Her fingers shook and let loose a fiery bird. Its cry echoed across the battlefield.
The flaming phoenix spread its wings as far as from where the sun rises on the East to where it sets on the West. Its beak burned with fire of a thousand forges and its claws bristled like stars themselves. It flew straight upon the Alliance soldiers, who stood as if turned into stone, stunned with the spell’s beauty and dread. The phoenix rained death upon them, melting armour and scorching flesh to bone. When the spell finally exploded, whoever was still alive ran in panic.
Aphranas felt weak. She has just shown the full might of her magic, but the exhaustion was irresistible. The Sin’dorei magistrix fainted as if life had left her for good and layed on her steed’s neck, unconscious. Yet before the darkness took all light from before her eyes, she saw Morfinn flying above their enemies and finishing them off in all his gory glory.
Aphranas felt satisfied and could finally rest. She prevailed and broke herself to be forged anew… For her people. For the Horde.
Ral’rush raised a hand to shield himself from the heat. Bright, intense, and frightening to the troll, the flames gave him pause; they’d have been hypnotic were it not for his pyrophobia, not an unheard of fear among his people. The scent of burning dwarf and human flesh kept him grounded in reality, however, almost calming him with the sense of finality brought by charred bodies. He’d also be lying if he said that the smell didn’t tempt him at least a little.
Laying in the middle of the charred hills after a battle laid a sharply dressed Sin’dorei…a blood mage? Pyromancer? Rush knew little of these things, but in any case, the elf seemed to have reacted poorly to the magical exertion. Proverbially frozen in place, Rush watched with his hand still held up in a subconscious defense. He feared the volatility of an art and science he didn’t understand, and a voice in the back of his head told him to walk away for his own sake. He worried that her blood would ignite at the exact moment he tried to help, destroying them both, or that some sort of reagant in her pockets would catch fire again. He had no idea how any of that actually functioned.
The voice grew louder in his mind, whispering to him, pleading with him to save himself from a violent death. Waves of pain mixed with euphoria accompanied that voice, promising him safety if he abandoned his fellow Horde soldier to grant her a hero’s death in that empty field. So vociferous did the whispers grow that the cover of the distorted, partially stealthed speaker was blown, prompting the jungle troll to pull out his sidesword instinctively stab into the distorted image looming over the Sin’dorei mage.
Wavering like heat over the hot sands of Vodun, the cultist spy gurgled and spat up blood. The stealth spell broken, the herald of N’zoth appeared before him, a corrupted, sickly-looking miscreant also of blood elven descent. For good measure, Rush grabbed the cultist’s head and twisted, snapping its neck and dropping it to the ground. Without tapering off, the whispers merely stopped, leaving his mind clear and allowing him to see, without obstruction, that a comrade seemed unwell in the middle of a mission.
Paranoid but no longer afraid, Rush kept watch over the fallen mage and tried to secure the area, searching for any other threads - ones smart enough not to let their voices be heard.
Shalim, dragged by the voices, approached the place where the troll warrior was taking care of his fellow ally.
The horde! Came in to Shalim’s mind.
What are they doing here? Were they attacked? And by whom? Should I finish them of? Or find the threat they are exposed to?
Shalim used his sixth sense, the spectral sight, and gazed around his surroundings. And there was it! Just behind the troll - the mindbender! Prepared to strike and consume the warrior. The demon hunter quickly rushed towards the troll, but that was a mistake… The troll misunderstood his intentions. Swept his sword and cut Shalim deeply on his chest.
Nonetheless it saved his life, because he dodged the attack from the mindbender.
Being grounded, Shalim managed to throw his glaive at the enemy. He suceeded but he was not yet defeated. Weakend void spawn made his last stand. Tendrils were prepared to attach to the troll’s head.
The troll thought that the glaive, Shalim threw, was intended to strike him. He lifted his sword prepared to finish Shalim off.
“Look, behind you!” yelled Shalim only to see the light smile at trolls face. He striked him with intention to quickly cut his head. Shalim parried the strike with his glaive and by every force tried to prevent the troll’s sword to reach his neck.
Then suddenly the troll’s amused smile turned in to face of desperation. He dropped his sword and he looked like he is going to drown !
He was gasping, trying to breathe !
Exhausted Shalim managed from his last bit of energy throw his second glaive at the mind bender. As the mindbender fell, Shalim knew, that the troll is safe.
But at what cost? Shalim was lying now on the ground. Defenseless, dependend on the troll"s mercy.
Ral’rush grabbed handfuls of grass and dirt as he tried to understand if he was falling down or getting up. His vision blurred at first, then fluctuated with rays of black and white, then went blurry again. A single whispered groan in his head, like the sound of a dying creature, bid him farewell before vacating his mind entirely.
Dizzy and confused, he tried to stand, only to fall to one knee again. Charred fields and fallen bodies surrounded him, and he began to remember where he was. There was the blood elf…blood mage…a cultist had tried to launch a sneak attack. He could remember the feeling of the cultist’s neck snapping between his hands.
But there was another body…Rush was surprised enough to stand back up and reach for his sidesword. When he couldn’t find the weapon, he began to breathe a little more quickly, wondering what had occurred.
Kneeling and hunched over on the ground next to him was a demon…or an elf? Memories of battles on Argus reminded him that he was looking at a bit of both - a demon hunter. The skin coloration was that of a Kal’dorei; Rush wouldn’t have discriminated normally, but the fact that his sword was missing gave him pause. The demonic-looking elf was alive, but wounded and tired, though still armed. Rush had never seen the man in his entire life.
Not knowing why the demon hunter was hurt, but still worrying about the blackout he’d just experienced, Rush stepped away. He was still dizzy and could only hobble slowly as he wondered why his head hurt, but he was able to kneel down in front of the blood elf, blocking her from the eyeless night elf’s field of vision.
They were both hurt, but the demonic elf or however it could be defined was more disoriented than Rush. He could leave now and help the mage who he assumed, guessed, surmised would be his ally, leaving the injured demon hunter alone on a battlefield. Rush even thought about it.
He thought twice.
“Wake up,” he said in his terrible, heavily accented common, dropping medical tape and a roll of bandages next to the demon hunter. He had no idea if the demonic-looking elf knew how to use them, or could hear him, but Rush’s paranoia wouldn’t leave him. Attempting to help the blood elf stand to see if she were conscious, he kept his eyes trained on the night elf. “Spirits protect you,” he said, slightly guilty over doing no more but too paranoid over his unexplained blackout.
Somewhere in the shadows, Aphrea stood silent, melded with the surrounding flora.
Kal’dorei huntress was a scout, just like those three soldiers of the Horde, sent on the frontline before the battle was about to begin. Or at least she wanted to be. Her striped Dawnsaber, a traditional sign of ill omens and bad luck, stretched in the bushes just next to her.
“Hush” - she whispered - “We’re too close.”
She came here because of Shalim. When Aphrea heard that the demon hunter was sent on a scouting mission, she couldn’t contain herself. He came back to Azeroth, after such a long journey, only to be thrown into the war’s bloodlusting jaws again. She immediately went after him.
Aphrea never lost a trace of her preys and, well, a good man in times of war is some kind of a prize you don’t want to let go. If you do, you may as well forget how it is to feel happy and comforted in someone’s arms, forever.
The huntress saved him now with a carefully loosened arrow, then breathed with relief. She felt dizzy and tried to focus again. Yet Shalim didn’t notice her first shot. To be honest she didn’t noticed a beast, lurking in the bushes behind her, either. Only thanks to Silalinda - a Sin’dorei mage - Aphrea was still alive.
Then came the Worgen, the Undead, the Pyromancer and the Troll. The huntress watched as the whole scene began and ended before her eyes. The chain of death, salvation, brotherhood and death again. For someone so bound to nature like she was, this couldn’t be a lovely morning in the wild.
And now she witnessed as her beloved almost sacrificed himself for the Horde’s soldier, to put an end to the Old God’s spawn for good. What was his point? That Troll was their enemy. Those who burned Teldrassil don’t deserve mercy nor pity. As if the pet heard her thoughts, the Dawnsaber gnarled with anger.
Suddenly Aphrea realised the cat was feeling something else than her. She didn’t focus, again! Voidspawn were never alone and her loved one killed only a single mindbender. There had to be a pack of them, somewhere close, waiting for the Troll Warrior to put down his shield. Then they would just massacre this batch of wounded scouts, no matter the faction.
Shalim did what he thought to be a righteous thing. Well, if they are going on another date together, she has to make sure he’s alive and prepared to explain it to her. Leaving a good man behind in times of war would be a proof of stupidity, especially for Kal’dorei - she thought once more and smiled.
With an arrow knocked and the trusty Dawnsaber at her side, the huntress walked out of the shadows. The Troll was a bit surprised, but he didn’t lower his guard. Aphrea counted the wounded with a quick gaze and then spoke.
“Come with me. You’re not alone.”
Silalinda had been stuck in battle, out of sight, ever since she’d been saved from death by that worgen. But now, there was a small break as she looked at everyone’s position. This wasn’t supposed to have turned into a battle like this, but it did. And then again, it didn’t.
Horde and Alliance were constantly switching between fighting each other and saving each other. From the Death Knight saving her saviour, to her fellow mage incinerating a line of riflemen, the demon hunter aiding the Troll from the cultist, and the Troll returning the favour - at least in part.
A huntress - no, the same huntress appeared from shadows, towards Ralrush, and spoke. That step… had saved her from the first strike. Instinct? Or luck? It didn’t matter. Sila hadn’t interfered just to let her die now. She blinked forward, emerging behind the Kal’dorei, just as the voidspawn readied another strike.
“Neither are you. Portal?”
The demon hunter, still wounded from the skirmish with the horde warrior and Nzoth’s puppet, appreciates the help of the Kal’dorei huntress.
She took the bandages provided by the troll warrior and carefully bandaged the demon hunter’s injury with her soft hands. The bleeding stopped and the immune system of the demonic malformed body started working, but Shalim was still weak to keep himself on his legs.
“Help me stand” he quite impolitely ordered to Arphea. “Another wave! I can sense them approaching. If you are about to survive, you all need to quickly leave through the portal.”
He noded at the Sindorei mage.
With the help of Aphrea he standed up. But his knees buckled and he leaned on the huntress.
“You know that we both won’t make it”
But the huntress shook her head. She was determined to escort Shalim to the safety of the portal.
Meanwhile the warrior took the disoriented blood elf mage to his hands and left the battlefield.
However, Silalinda, Arphea and Shalim still remained in danger.
The void army was approching. Silalinda was not absend-minded and she created an arcane barrier bubble to hold them off for as long as was needed. But one voidling was able to reach them before the barrier was set. Invisible to elf eyes he was making his way to Silalinda.
If he interrupted her, they would be all lost… Shalim unable to do anything with his physical strenght managed to eye beam the dangerous spawn… But he destroyed the escape portal with it…
Creatures of the Void were everywhere. They surrounded Grazheena’s unit, which came to help the surviving dwarven riflemen. Portals to the dark realm of Ny’Alotha were opening all around, spitting packs of foul mutants out of thin air.
Soldiers of the Alliance locked their shields in a wall of wood and steel, prepared for a brutal melee. Grazhka wielded her sword with all strength she could draw from the Light. She was their paladin, sworn to protect them.
With the Light’s guidance they repelled the first attack. Black blood of the Voidspawn stained Grazheena’s armour and sword, but she stood tall on the first line, rallying the defenders. At this moment their enemies withdrew, but only to regroup before the full assault.
And then she saw them. A group of ragtag soldiers of both factions, fighting for survival on a slope of the hill that her unit was ordered to hold. There was a demon hunter among them, a Night Elf, gravely wounded. The group rallied around him and a Blood Elf mage, who opened the portal, but the paladin didn’t trust her.
Grazheena saw there was another magistrix among them - the same which scorched her brothers in arms mere moments ago! Why the two Night Elfs didn’t finish her off? “They look like they need help” - thought Draenei. “They will be safer here, behind our shields. And if any of these Hordies wants to live, they’ll come with me.”
-Carry on, captain - said the Draenei paladin, as her eyes started to glow gold - Stand fast until I come back.
-What are you… doing? - the officer asked, but he could only watch as his second-in-command charged upon the foul abominations of the Void.
She came down the mountainside, slashing all who stood in her way with the Light-infused blade. Band of wounded who awaited salvation just lost their portal, destroyed by the demon hunter’s eye beam. He seemed to be dying and couldn’t defend himself properly. The huntress who helped him stand had tears in her eyes and the Voidspawn were about to swarm them.
Grazheena realised her hooves were lifted above the ground. She shouted enthusiastically as she knew her prayers were answered. Halo of Holy Light encircled her and angelic wings spread from chinks of armour on her back. Draenei gripped her sword in two hands and raised it over her horns.
She came crushing down upon the enemies of Azeroth like an angel of justice. When she landed on the ground, already piercing one of the mutants through an evil heart, a wave of Holy energy exploded around her, clearing a small area from the crawling Voidspawn. Grazheena stood up and pulled the blade from a twisted mass of tentacles, which still twitched in agony.
-Come with me - she said, stretching her hand at the Elfs’ direction - We’ll be safe now.
-We’re not leaving them - answered the demon hunter and coughed out a stain of blood on his palm - They saved our lives more than once.
-Then, by the Light, proceed with your portal! I’m out of tricks…
“Tricks?” came a deep, jolly voice from above, as a dark, hooded figure sporting numerous skull decorations came swooping down on a flying carpet.
The newcomer gestured with his hands and murmured dark spells, bombarding the void minions with powerful fel magic.
His booming, unsympathetic laugh made clear how much he enjoyed using this kind of magic against the evil creatures of the void.
“I am no hero, but tricks… I love showing off my tricks!”
The warlock spoke other spells, and dreadful demons appeared, attacking the shady enemies of all life.
He spoke again, this time addressing the defending Azerothians -
“If you have a plan to get out of here, I strongly suggest you execute it now!”
Aphranas woke up, lying on a little mound of leaves, next to her saviour. Ralrush seemed stressed, as if they were still endangered, but the forest in which they landed seemed peaceful.
“What is this place?” - she asked.
The Troll looked at her after a few seconds. He too felt a little dizzy.
“Another mage opened da portal. And it be closed now.” - Ralrush shrugged his arms.
Then Sin’dorei realised that the Troll enveloped her with his cloak and was trying to set a campfire. She reminded herself he carried her through the portal on his own arms. Elven magistrix didn’t knew yet how to feel about that.
“Thank you… very much” - was all that she could say for now.
“Well, if we’re here and the other mage stays there… isn’t he or she in peril?” - she thought to herself. With some effort she tried to get up, but she immediately sat on the leaves again.
“I need power.” Aphranas breathed deeply in relief, as she saw a mana wyrm, laying on a a rock and bathing in the sun next to them. Magistrix stretched her hand into the reptile’s direction and focused.
Unfortunate creature started to hiss and tried to run away, but it couldn’t escape. Aphranas drained it of mana and its powers. Sin’dorei had enough energy to cast another spell, but certainly not a long-lasting one.
“Well, there you are…” - magistrix said to herself, as she focused again and sensed the trace of energy which led from the battlefield to their hideout.
She got up on her knees and started to perform a complicated gesture. When it was done, Aphranas pulled the fabrics of reality in two opposing directions, as if she was lifting a small curtain.
The portal, initially created by Silalinda, opened once more. But Aphranas knew she couldn’t hold it much longer…
When the Demon Hunter’s eye beam had destroyed the portal she conjured, it had caused a backlash that left Silalinda disoriented for a moment. Just as she recovered, a paladin landed, offering to take the Alliance members with them. The magistrix and the troll had made it through before the portal was destroyed, leaving her, for the moment, the only Horde member among them.
Hearing the Kal’dorei refuse to leave her behind was… nice. But she couldn’t immediately re-open the portal, unfortunately. Not with N’zoth’s minions all around. Her barrier had already fallen a while ago, and what mana she had left, she needed to use to defend herself. The Warlock’s aid, then, was most welcome. Taking the pressure off of the defenders, at least for now.
“Right!”
Silalinda focussed, but before she could actually cast, the portal opened on it’s own, almost shakily, sustained by Aphranas’ waning mana. Silalinda mixed her own with it, stabilising the connection, urging the others to step through before she would herself. If she was the last to go through, she could collapse it behind her, hopefully buying them enough time before they’d be found again. If it’d go wrong… if she’d misjudged the amount of mana the two of them could muster… well, she couldn’t think about that. Not now. Not while she had to focus on keeping it open a little while longer.
-And right you are, darling! - said Grazheena, all cheerful about the portal’s restoration.
The paladin swung the two-handed sword high above her horns. Its blade made a full circle, glowing like a golden disc. Void mutants’ heads, tentacles and arms rolled on the ground after that slash.
-Go, we’ll watch your backs! - she shouted to the Night Elves, then looked up onto the warlock - And thanks for saving, by the way! There is a hope for you yet!
Human trickster laughed in answer while his demonic minions clashed with the surrounding Voidspawn.
One of them had slipped from the Fel familiars’ hands though. It rolled forward like a nasty ball of greased tentacles, ready to envelop and choke the Blood Elf, who was sustaining the magical gateway. Grazhka lept forward to intercept it…
-Your head! - she yelled at Silalinda.
The mage was probably outright confused seeing the Draenei coming at her with weapon in hands and shouting something about heads. But, the Light be praised, she understood the intentions well. Without loosening connection with the portal, the Blood Elf dropped down on one knee.
The slash which could hack the mage’s pretty head off, teared through a purple skin of her enemy. Grazheena followed it with a bash of her arm, pushing the mutant away from their escape route. Yet while the Draenei thought she finished off the Voidspawn, a pair of disgustingly slick tentacles crawled upon her armour, searching for a chink to enter…