Armphid
Crowned Sun
- Joined
- May 18, 2003
- Posts
- 9,831
Snow fell from the dark sky overhead. It was not heavy but neither was it light; a steady and unceasing tumble of white and grey from the thick clouds overhead that never seemed to falter or waver. Icecrown Glacier was all the dark blue of glacial ice, the white of snow, the black of stone. The howl of the wind was accompanied by the cry of the gargoyles and the occasional rattling roar of the frost wyrms that flew overhead the lurking mass of Icecrown Citadel. The snow had fallen before the darkling prince had come here. It had fallen when he pulled forth the cursed blade that doomed him. It fell when he returned in defeat to lick his wounds and raise an army like the world had never seen. It fell now as that army fought to snuff out all life; to make every place as barren and cold and dark.
The snow was an endless fall accompanied by the wind that blew across the glacier, the surrounding mountains, and the towering fortifications and structures meant to guard against the invasion of life to this bleak and frigid place. The natural barriers of ice, snow, and rock were not enough. Despite the proclamations of cultists and even The Lich King himself; there was life here. Small and hard to spot at times but just as present and persistent as that eternal snowfall. So the walls had gone up and the gates secured; manned by the legions of the undead and watched with unblinking eyes. Yet still life came on, undeterred, as if to remind even the glacier that it could not be buried under snow and ice forever.
On the long span of Aldur'Thar, The Desolation Gate, life was making itself known with the blazing passion of fiery hearts. A quintet of figures, so small against the massive fortifications, battled across the long span that connected it to Ymirheim, stronghold of the vrykul giants. They had been airdropped onto the bridge by a gnomish flyer from he nearby hidden airfield; here to strike down the Scourge and break the guard on the gate. A vanguard meant to pierce the operations on the fortifications and break the leadership so that the regular forces of the great Alliance could keep them down and open passage through the gate to the Valley of Fallen Heroes beyond.
"Another one coming," called out a tall, broad shouldered man in front called out. Even among his own people, he was tall, standing at 7'7" tall and his body was powerful; hard corded muscle moved with grace and might under skin that was a lavender purple. His build was long limbed and broad shouldered, his muscles defined and developed but as graceful and agile as they were strong. Silver eyes glowed clearly but faintly, just barely illuminating clean features that were sharp enough to look almost carved with a strong nose and full lips that were peeling back in an expression that was both a grin and a snarl. His hair was a dark blue, falling in a long mane down to the small of his back with two long forelocks framing his face and brushing his collarbones. He had no beard but long sideburns with down the side of his face and his eyebrows grew proudly out on either side of his head. His ears were long and angled out just 10 degrees shy of perpendicular from his face; the right one had two small nicks out of it two inches from the pointed end. He bore no other scars that could be seen now, though his nose had clearly been broken once a long time ago. His body was clad and protected in well made, cleverly layered leather armor in browns and a patch of dark green here and there that clung to and accentuated his body as much as it hid. A long hafted spear was in his right hand as he pointed with the left at a lumbering patchwork monstrosity of a creature that was ambling down the span, not yet having noticed them.
Jasreath Mistheart gestured and felt the magic of nature flow through him. Above the abominable collection of limbs and dead flesh a silvery orb burst into life and a column of light lanced down to engulf it in Moonfire. "Follow me in," he called, then he leaped forward and a bestial roar rolled out to strike his enemy almost as a physical force. His body changed; flesh flowing, thick armor like hide and fur sprouting, and in a heartbeat what charged forward was not a Night Elf but a massive bodied black furred bear with long elf like ears.
He charged with terrible speed; slamming bodily into the undead thing and rocking it back before rearing up and ripping both foreclaws down it. As his paws hit; he felt a rush as holy magic poured over him, knitting the minor wounds opened by the abomination's flailing blows.
There was a lower rumbling roar and a blazing ball of fire with a streaking tail flew over his head to blast into the monster's chest; searing and igniting unliving flesh. "Burn, you bastard," came the call of the beaming man whose fingers danced with arcane fire. Edrahil began to cast again, "Let's see Arthas animate ash!"
The abomination jerked suddenly as a short, curvaceous dwarf woman clad in body hugging leather appeared as if from nowhere and sank a pair of long, wicked daggers into the small of it's back, "Dinnae give him any ideas," Elde chirped as she jerked her blades free.
"Agreed," a husky, sonorous voice chimed in. Telya, a dusky skinned human woman in robes of dark red, finished the twisting arcane gestures of her hands to curse the badly crafted magic with a fell hex; it's body beginning to shred from within. Beside her danced an almost skeletal imp only reaching her knee; hurling sickly green fire of its' own. "We have enough enemies up here."
"You know," their priest added, "if you spoke less, you would not need to be healed so much, yes?" She was almost as tall as Jasreath; her skin a vibrant blue, her figure shapely and full even with the layers of her holy vestments on. Her legs were digitigrade and ended in dainty, relatively, hooves and a short, slender tail lashed above her pert ass. A pair of horns stuck up over her brows almost like rabbit ears and her her hair was stark white, piled up in a bun atop her head. Zaraya's hands moved through the forms of spells, yellow flashes of healing energy engulfing the fighting bear.
In a few more moments, the abomination fell in a heap, torn by the bear's claws, shredded by the rogue's clever daggers, burned by arcane magics. Jasreath shook his ursine head, shoulders shaking. Bear was raging in his heart; bellowing for more fight, more blood! But he tamped it down. Charging in was a mistake. He needed to keep his head and hold the beast in his power. Take them out bit by bit; calling all of the forces here down on them would mean death. He shrugged the bear fell away, his form lengthening and stretching upright, his equipment appearing on him from Elsewhere until he stood as his true self. "Good work. That's the last patrol; we need to pick it up a little bit so they won't notice they've stopped but still, we pick our targets until we get to the head."
"Aye, an' lop it off!" The buxom dwarf woman grinned up at him, her honey blond hair in twin braids that were coiled up into buns on either side of her head. "Though those Hordies might keep 'em busy too, I reckon."
They had seen a group of their faction's enemy approaching the gate from the other side and given them a wide berth. They weren't here to fight Horde. Despite the enmity on both sides, The Scourge was a far greater threat.
"Unless they decide to attack us instead of the undead," Telya snorted. Of all of them, the warlock bore the biggest personal grudge against their opposite numbers; having lost family in one of the Horde's many assaults on Southshore.
"Peace, Telya," Jasreath shook his head. "You said it yourself, we have enough enemies here. Good hunting to them if it kills more of these unnatural things. But let's not have them beat us to taking the gate," he added with a smile.
"Damn right," the human mage added in. "Let's-hey, there they are!" He pointed behind them were a group of Horde warriors strode down the span. A tall, busty orc woman led the way in blue-gray plate armor; an ugly two handed axe in her hands. There was a pale, paler than usual Blood Elf man as well, and a hunched over troll. "This is our side, all right? Your guys are over th-shit!"
The lead orc reached out and hands of black energy lashed out from her to grab the stunned draenei priest and haul her back. She had time to scream once before their weapons came down, hacking into her lush flesh, blood spurting onto the cold stone of the rampart.
"BASTARDS!" Jasreath let nature flow into him, hurling healing magic at the alien woman's feebly stirring form. "Get them off of her! I can get her back on her feet and then-"
There was a rolling bellow as the Blood Elf lifted a horn to his lips and blew. At the same moment, a similar sound burst out from the far side of the fortifications. Then answering calls came; the shrieks of gargoyles, ghouls, the dull brainless laughs of the abominations, the war cries of living cultists.
"Th' alarm!" Elde's eyes were wide, "Th' damn Horde gave us up! Bastards couldn't stand us wining this one, now we'll all die!"
"Just you," the orc woman sneered and her voice was unnaturally cold and cruel.
Then the Scourge were on them and the rest of the strange Horde members rushed in. The adventurers fought hard but the end was never in doubt. Jasreath called roots to hold the enemy numbers in place, called down the burning fire of the moon, shifted from bear to elf to rip enemy flesh and then throw out what healing he could but he still saw Elde pulled into a circle of ghouls, stabbing and slashing until she went horribly still. Edhrahil rained down ice until the enemy was upon them and then was thrown from the battlements, tumbling below. He might have survived with his magic, but then what of the enemies below?
"Run, Jas!" Telya drew in a breath and swelled into a horrific demonic form; wings spreading, fire igniting over the surface of her body, "Tell everyone what happened here!" The warlock turned demon waded into the throng.
"Damn it all!" The druid turned and leaped, his body twisting as his comrade bought him time, becoming a lean black panther. He raced away at top speed, ducking and diving through the stumbling swipes of his enemies. He could run all he wanted but that wouldn't get him out. He had to hide and let the alarm die down! Where?
There!
He dove into a doorway; some kind of storeroom. It was open but the boxes within and roof above case deep shadows and that was all he needed. Jasreath shifted once more into his natural form and drew in a breath, fading from sight within the shadows as all of his people could. "My comrades, my friends," he murmured under his breath. "I'm sorry. Elune and your Light protect your souls."
It had been going well. They'd almost succeeded. Then the Horde attacked. And the Scourge hadn't attacked them! Had they made a pact? It seemed impossible. It didn't matter now. He had to get some strength back and then try to get out of here. All alone. With the Scourge on alert.
He'd see his friends again sooner than he thought, wouldn't he?
The snow was an endless fall accompanied by the wind that blew across the glacier, the surrounding mountains, and the towering fortifications and structures meant to guard against the invasion of life to this bleak and frigid place. The natural barriers of ice, snow, and rock were not enough. Despite the proclamations of cultists and even The Lich King himself; there was life here. Small and hard to spot at times but just as present and persistent as that eternal snowfall. So the walls had gone up and the gates secured; manned by the legions of the undead and watched with unblinking eyes. Yet still life came on, undeterred, as if to remind even the glacier that it could not be buried under snow and ice forever.
On the long span of Aldur'Thar, The Desolation Gate, life was making itself known with the blazing passion of fiery hearts. A quintet of figures, so small against the massive fortifications, battled across the long span that connected it to Ymirheim, stronghold of the vrykul giants. They had been airdropped onto the bridge by a gnomish flyer from he nearby hidden airfield; here to strike down the Scourge and break the guard on the gate. A vanguard meant to pierce the operations on the fortifications and break the leadership so that the regular forces of the great Alliance could keep them down and open passage through the gate to the Valley of Fallen Heroes beyond.
"Another one coming," called out a tall, broad shouldered man in front called out. Even among his own people, he was tall, standing at 7'7" tall and his body was powerful; hard corded muscle moved with grace and might under skin that was a lavender purple. His build was long limbed and broad shouldered, his muscles defined and developed but as graceful and agile as they were strong. Silver eyes glowed clearly but faintly, just barely illuminating clean features that were sharp enough to look almost carved with a strong nose and full lips that were peeling back in an expression that was both a grin and a snarl. His hair was a dark blue, falling in a long mane down to the small of his back with two long forelocks framing his face and brushing his collarbones. He had no beard but long sideburns with down the side of his face and his eyebrows grew proudly out on either side of his head. His ears were long and angled out just 10 degrees shy of perpendicular from his face; the right one had two small nicks out of it two inches from the pointed end. He bore no other scars that could be seen now, though his nose had clearly been broken once a long time ago. His body was clad and protected in well made, cleverly layered leather armor in browns and a patch of dark green here and there that clung to and accentuated his body as much as it hid. A long hafted spear was in his right hand as he pointed with the left at a lumbering patchwork monstrosity of a creature that was ambling down the span, not yet having noticed them.
Jasreath Mistheart gestured and felt the magic of nature flow through him. Above the abominable collection of limbs and dead flesh a silvery orb burst into life and a column of light lanced down to engulf it in Moonfire. "Follow me in," he called, then he leaped forward and a bestial roar rolled out to strike his enemy almost as a physical force. His body changed; flesh flowing, thick armor like hide and fur sprouting, and in a heartbeat what charged forward was not a Night Elf but a massive bodied black furred bear with long elf like ears.
He charged with terrible speed; slamming bodily into the undead thing and rocking it back before rearing up and ripping both foreclaws down it. As his paws hit; he felt a rush as holy magic poured over him, knitting the minor wounds opened by the abomination's flailing blows.
There was a lower rumbling roar and a blazing ball of fire with a streaking tail flew over his head to blast into the monster's chest; searing and igniting unliving flesh. "Burn, you bastard," came the call of the beaming man whose fingers danced with arcane fire. Edrahil began to cast again, "Let's see Arthas animate ash!"
The abomination jerked suddenly as a short, curvaceous dwarf woman clad in body hugging leather appeared as if from nowhere and sank a pair of long, wicked daggers into the small of it's back, "Dinnae give him any ideas," Elde chirped as she jerked her blades free.
"Agreed," a husky, sonorous voice chimed in. Telya, a dusky skinned human woman in robes of dark red, finished the twisting arcane gestures of her hands to curse the badly crafted magic with a fell hex; it's body beginning to shred from within. Beside her danced an almost skeletal imp only reaching her knee; hurling sickly green fire of its' own. "We have enough enemies up here."
"You know," their priest added, "if you spoke less, you would not need to be healed so much, yes?" She was almost as tall as Jasreath; her skin a vibrant blue, her figure shapely and full even with the layers of her holy vestments on. Her legs were digitigrade and ended in dainty, relatively, hooves and a short, slender tail lashed above her pert ass. A pair of horns stuck up over her brows almost like rabbit ears and her her hair was stark white, piled up in a bun atop her head. Zaraya's hands moved through the forms of spells, yellow flashes of healing energy engulfing the fighting bear.
In a few more moments, the abomination fell in a heap, torn by the bear's claws, shredded by the rogue's clever daggers, burned by arcane magics. Jasreath shook his ursine head, shoulders shaking. Bear was raging in his heart; bellowing for more fight, more blood! But he tamped it down. Charging in was a mistake. He needed to keep his head and hold the beast in his power. Take them out bit by bit; calling all of the forces here down on them would mean death. He shrugged the bear fell away, his form lengthening and stretching upright, his equipment appearing on him from Elsewhere until he stood as his true self. "Good work. That's the last patrol; we need to pick it up a little bit so they won't notice they've stopped but still, we pick our targets until we get to the head."
"Aye, an' lop it off!" The buxom dwarf woman grinned up at him, her honey blond hair in twin braids that were coiled up into buns on either side of her head. "Though those Hordies might keep 'em busy too, I reckon."
They had seen a group of their faction's enemy approaching the gate from the other side and given them a wide berth. They weren't here to fight Horde. Despite the enmity on both sides, The Scourge was a far greater threat.
"Unless they decide to attack us instead of the undead," Telya snorted. Of all of them, the warlock bore the biggest personal grudge against their opposite numbers; having lost family in one of the Horde's many assaults on Southshore.
"Peace, Telya," Jasreath shook his head. "You said it yourself, we have enough enemies here. Good hunting to them if it kills more of these unnatural things. But let's not have them beat us to taking the gate," he added with a smile.
"Damn right," the human mage added in. "Let's-hey, there they are!" He pointed behind them were a group of Horde warriors strode down the span. A tall, busty orc woman led the way in blue-gray plate armor; an ugly two handed axe in her hands. There was a pale, paler than usual Blood Elf man as well, and a hunched over troll. "This is our side, all right? Your guys are over th-shit!"
The lead orc reached out and hands of black energy lashed out from her to grab the stunned draenei priest and haul her back. She had time to scream once before their weapons came down, hacking into her lush flesh, blood spurting onto the cold stone of the rampart.
"BASTARDS!" Jasreath let nature flow into him, hurling healing magic at the alien woman's feebly stirring form. "Get them off of her! I can get her back on her feet and then-"
There was a rolling bellow as the Blood Elf lifted a horn to his lips and blew. At the same moment, a similar sound burst out from the far side of the fortifications. Then answering calls came; the shrieks of gargoyles, ghouls, the dull brainless laughs of the abominations, the war cries of living cultists.
"Th' alarm!" Elde's eyes were wide, "Th' damn Horde gave us up! Bastards couldn't stand us wining this one, now we'll all die!"
"Just you," the orc woman sneered and her voice was unnaturally cold and cruel.
Then the Scourge were on them and the rest of the strange Horde members rushed in. The adventurers fought hard but the end was never in doubt. Jasreath called roots to hold the enemy numbers in place, called down the burning fire of the moon, shifted from bear to elf to rip enemy flesh and then throw out what healing he could but he still saw Elde pulled into a circle of ghouls, stabbing and slashing until she went horribly still. Edhrahil rained down ice until the enemy was upon them and then was thrown from the battlements, tumbling below. He might have survived with his magic, but then what of the enemies below?
"Run, Jas!" Telya drew in a breath and swelled into a horrific demonic form; wings spreading, fire igniting over the surface of her body, "Tell everyone what happened here!" The warlock turned demon waded into the throng.
"Damn it all!" The druid turned and leaped, his body twisting as his comrade bought him time, becoming a lean black panther. He raced away at top speed, ducking and diving through the stumbling swipes of his enemies. He could run all he wanted but that wouldn't get him out. He had to hide and let the alarm die down! Where?
There!
He dove into a doorway; some kind of storeroom. It was open but the boxes within and roof above case deep shadows and that was all he needed. Jasreath shifted once more into his natural form and drew in a breath, fading from sight within the shadows as all of his people could. "My comrades, my friends," he murmured under his breath. "I'm sorry. Elune and your Light protect your souls."
It had been going well. They'd almost succeeded. Then the Horde attacked. And the Scourge hadn't attacked them! Had they made a pact? It seemed impossible. It didn't matter now. He had to get some strength back and then try to get out of here. All alone. With the Scourge on alert.
He'd see his friends again sooner than he thought, wouldn't he?