Auctoritas Deorum

[Inquisistor7]

Auctoritas Deorum
Chapter 1: Aeternitas Belli

The gently glowing lamp of the night sky had never been injured by the strife of mortals. Her light ever and anon had fallen upon her beloved race, and her grace empowered them. The bliss they enjoyed from their faith appeared well founded, for no evil had ever been so great that victory was impossible . How then could it be that their Guide could lead them into so bitter a struggle?

The Night Elves warred against each other now, and once holy sites became tainted by loathsome war. The female Sentinels marched under the High Priestess to uphold the command of Elune: secure the great tree, Teladrassil, that it may be destroyed.

The Druids, under Staghelm, found their great treasure threatened and attempted to secure the area around it. Yet they found themselves ill-equipped to take on so great a force. Those druids loyal to Teladrissil’s promise flocked to the battle lines from the corners of the Night Elves’ lands, but hey were unable to change the tide of battle. For, they were too few, and many had no desire to shed the blood of their race, lessening whatever reinforcements would come. The last stronghold under their power in all of Darnassus was their great temple, built for the glory of nature.

Tyrande Whisperwind, the High Priestess, found herself and her subordinates troubled by the conflict. Not only were the druids unapproachable in their fortress, but the nation was fractured with uncertainty. Many Night Elves questioned the actions of the Sentinels; it seemed as though order were deteriorating. So, the High Priestess went into the Temple of the Moon in Darnassus, and into its central shrine. Standing before the great statue of Elune, surrounded by a glistening pool, she spoke to her goddess.

“Please tell me oh goddess why you have ordered us so? This bloodshed has fractured out nation and weakened our resolve. What benefit does this create?”

Her doubt was growing into frustration when all the doors of the sanctuary closed and the goddess appeared before her. She looked as a Night Elf would when ready for battle. A helm atop her head was decorated with a crescent diamond, and her raven hair flowed underneath it. Her purple skin glowed softly as of moonlight, and the lithe armor upon her form appeared to guard little, so much skin was exposed. Tyrande fell upon her knees in respect as the deity of the children of the stars walked forward upon the water and sternly said:

“I have taken great pain to aid your race, and at the moment I am again striving for your betterment. That tree is a sign of the greed of some, so I believed that it would wither on its own as all objects of pride and greed do. But there is one who has entered into the midst of the world who shall use that abomination for ill.”

Sing to me oh Muse! Tell of the encounter that could so arouse the wrath of the Patron of the Night Elves. Fill my mind with the tale of the one who could bring about such a fate to the world!

The Night Elves of Darnassus had been peacefully going about their day, their watchful eyes keen for any dangers that lurked about them. Perhaps some saw a shadow slither among the darkness and creep into the meeting hall of the druids. Then again, how could they see such a being who has little need to appear before those of the flesh? The shadow nevertheless found its way along the dark corners of that place into the chamber of the Arch Druid Staghelm...

At the same time the goddess was standing before the World Tree, Nordrassil. Though the area around that tree had been smitten with war she stood there at peace. Hidden from the eyes of mortals, her great spirit was speaking words of healing to the damaged tree when she noticed the one who was behind her. She turned around and her gray eyes beheld a figure in a white alb with black lining wearing a white cowl. The only design upon his clothes were black streaks as of lightning. Concealing his face was a white mask. Plain. Emotionless. Not even his eyes were revealed, for where one might have seen eyes there was only shadow.

Surprised the goddess of the moon said to the one before her, “How long have you been there?”

“Not too long. It was actually sort of hard to find you. All over this planet I can feel your influence, the touch of your power. So you must understand that finding your signal required a little effort.”

“Their Majesties have left me alone for eons. Why have they sent you? If they miss their daughter so much why not come personally?”

“You must really have put a lot of work into crafting that hunk of bark,” the voice behind the mask stated, gesturing at the World Tree with his gloved hand, “seems like a waste.”

Enraged she launched her words at him, “ This is my domain! I have made up for my failure with exile here, do they begrudge me even this?”

He replied, “Heh, they begrudge you nothing. This place merely is the best for the execution of the next phase of the strategy. You see, this plant is weak at the moment, so the attraction of this world isn’t as great as it could be. Though even then things wouldn’t be balanced. So I’m going to heal the other tree with someone whom her Highness herself has sent with me. After all, this tree will surely heal, but I don’t want the other to go to waste. Besides, there are many other planets to guard and we can’t have this one shirking its duty now can we?”

He left her then, his image fading into nothing. The speed with which she commanded her Priestess to act can only be called divine.

[Inquisistor7]

Chapter 2: Gladii Multitudo

Staghelm awoke from his vision with sweat running down his face. He could hardly believe what he had seen: Teladrassil ablaze, the streets flowing with the blood of the fallen, the bodies of druids strewn upon altars with arrows protruding from their backs and skulls, and Sentinal archers marching through the streets, killing those in their way and mocking the burning tree. He rushed out of his room and related this to his nearby comrades: “My friends I fear that I have had a premonition of what is to come, for I have just arisen from a horrible dream. I watched as our dreams of saving Teladrissil were dashed by traitorous Sentinels! We must move to fortify ourselves around it at once!”

Dissent was the response that he received. “Madness must have seized you.” One druid of the claw exclaimed, “Many Sentinels have helped us so far with our mission. Should we lose trust over some unfounded vision, which might be more the product of food and drink than of providence?”

Bursting through the door a young druid of the talon, his face twisted with awful amazement: “Priestess Tyrande is leading her troops to Teladrissil, proclaiming that Elune wills its undoing. Those who resist their march have been imprisoned. Already some of the shrines there are occupied by her forces!”

Staghelm, standing erect, his face strong with resolve, announced to those before him: “Then all questions about this matter have been settled. Let us go then my brothers! We shall not let our hopes be dashed by those zealots. Though we are assuredly outnumbered, will not all of those who have refused to join us now see our wisdom when confronted with the face of Tyrande’s tyranny?”

The forces of the Sentinels were concentrated at the gates and defenses of the city, and so Tyrnade was aware that her first move would have be to call them in. The words of the goddess resounded in her mind: “Secure Teladrissil. The druids will try to stop you, so capture, or destroy if you must, those who oppose you. That abomination must be removed.” Her runners were already racing to inform the Sentinels throughout the city when she took what troops she could to pacify the druids at the tree itself. Many of them strongly resisted, and the blood of elves was shed upon altars dedicated nature. Believing the temples secure, she took most of her troops out and congregated in front of the main temple.

The druids of the talon flew from their hall and informed the druids throughout the city of the Sentinels actions and of the Arch Druid’s plan. All did not consent, but new supporters were found. Staghelm himself desired for all of his forces to gather at the primary temple near Teladrissil so that his forces could have command of the area. That temple consited of four tall, white towers; its circular walls arched over Teldrassil’s roots and it appeared to be more like a fortress than a temple. Flocks of ravens landed on that building, and transformed into elven form and brought it under control.

As they had been informed by those of the talon, many druids marched down the main road of the city, destroying whatever Sentinel patrols approached and joining with Staghelm’s army. The druids of the claw, had separated into two forces: one group moved towards the Hipporgryph stations to prevent them from attacking for as long as possible (to insure the safety of the druids of the talon, some of whom were acting as aerial scouts), and the other to act as the front line of Staghelm’s column.

The Arch Druid’s forces were at about fifty in number, but sympathizers to their cause who had joined their ranks,brought that number to more than one hundred strong. The Sentinels meanwhile found themselves initially unable to effectively organize. Though they were already positioned throughout the city, many were slow to act on the Priestess’s orders, finding them extreme. In fact, the treants refused to participate, and many citizens were shocked by the Sentinels plan. However, Tyrande had been able to secure much of the area around Teladrissil, and even though her Hippogryph’s were not yet in the air, and though she knew of the approaching threat, she feared not.

Having gathered supplies along the way, Staghelm’s hastily assembled army was near their goal. But by then the forces of the Sentinels were gathering behind and in front of their opponents. Arrows fell in front of the Druids of the claw, and the whole column stopped. Tyrande and her troops stood in front of them. About half a mile behind another army of Sentinels had appeared. Atop the surrounding buildings archers gathered, and in the sky Hippogryphs flew, their riders brandishing bows.

Undaunted Staghelm ordered his forces forward. The druids in bear form ferociously charged, and behind them the others followed. Healing spells were cast almost immediately upon the bears, for torrents of arrows had descended on them. They survived the initial volley, for Staghelm and his upper druids had converted much of their power to maintaining the health of their comrades. Tyrande’s front line of huntresses attempted to break up the wave of bears, hoping to separate them and destroy them individually. But in the wake of those twenty bears came warriors and hunters, whose swords and arrows pushed the line of huntresses back. Tyrande meanwhile was running about the length of the lines firing arrows and shouting: “Remain strong my sisters! Numbers and the goddess are on our side!”

Arrows continued to fall upon the Arch Druid’s forces, and he knew that his troops would not last long. He took his horn and blew upon it. From above, a group of druids of the talon descended, with some being devoured by Hippogryphs. Having transformed, they used their whirlwinds to confuse the Sentinels front lines and to allow their rear and side guards time to pull back for a short time. Immediately, Staghelm took in a potion of mana (his lieutenants did the same), and gathering their powers they created a wall of vines at the rear of their forces and at their sides that was as high as the buildings around them. “Forward!” Staghelm commanded, “what force is there that can stand up to us now?”

Yet Tyrande had not unleashed all of her forces, and as Staghelm’s troops rushed forth, mountain giants made their way out of the Sentinels ranks. Several bears were crushed by their boulders, and panic set in on some of the warriors as the giants swung trees as clubs. With nowhere else to go, however, they reaffirmed their resolve.

The Priestess decided that she had but one choice left. “The grace of Elune shall not be defeated!” she proclaimed, and gathering her powers she unleashed her spell, Star Fall. Those bolts of magic rained on Staghelm’s troops. Several druids of the claw were broken and burned from that attack, and more than a dozen other warriors crumpled under it. Victory for the Sentinels and death for the Arch Druid seemed assured.

Staghelm, though, did not surrender: taking up his horn again he blew upon it. Hearing the signal, the remaining druids of the talon came onto the field from the temple. Using their tornadoes they created a large gap in the lines of the Sentinels, and the even the Priestess found herself in the air. Taking this opportunity, Staghelm shouted to his troops: “Now my followers! into the temple so that we can save our dream!” They entered that towering citadel, and with their weapons and magics made it into the stronghold of their cause. The Sentinels sent raids against it, but none could overwhelm its might.

Saddened by the loss of almost half of his men, Staghelm took heart in the fact that not only was he in the best strategic location but also he had enough supplies for months. For weeks the Sentinels tried all that they could to break the druids’ defenses, but they achieved nothing more than the spilling of more blood.

* * *
Yeah, that’s it for now. If you have any recommendations or comments, feel free to make them. My goal is, after all to make an enjoyable story. Anyway, I’ll get the next chapter out when it’s ready.

[Bullroarer]

You have talent, I give you that. This is a good, but try to tell more about the area around them.

[Inquisistor7]

Thank you very much, Bullroarer. I appreciate the constructive criticism.

Anyway, I'm afraid that the reason I'm posting right now isn't because I have an update but because I wish to say a few things.
1) For those of you who are unaware, Staghelm is an actual character in WoW; he is in fact the Arch Druid of the Night Elves. I know that many of you are well versed in this sort of thing, but I was afraid that someone might think he was a character of my own creation.
2) Here is a map of Kalimdor (http://www.worldofwar.net/cartography/worldmap/kalimdorcont.php) . This map will come in handy when I post the next chapter (which I would work on more right now, but wrestling is on).
3) The chapter titles are in Latin so that they sound cooler :p

[Inquisistor7]

Chapter III: Pro Patria

Drawn by the call of the High Priestess, hundreds of Sentinels journeyed to the capital city. Extra lodging had to be hastily constructed outside of its ivory gates to accommodate them. Within the city, fortifications had been setup in a one hundred yard perimeter around the druids’ stronghold. Wooden towers were built by the Sentinels, and ballistae were brought. Their missiles, however, were not strong enough to penetrate the defensive magics of the druids, who stood ever ready to raise a shield in front of their tall walls and towers. The ground between the Sentinels and the druids was covered in corpses of the dead: mutilated and broken from terrible battle Among the once pearly white cobblestones flowed streams of blood. So viscous was that torrent of violence that the city mourned, and across the lands of the Elves some began to wonder about the sanity of their leaders. To the priestesses, however, so strong were the goddess’s calls to destroy the tree that all other matters seemed unimportant. To them she sent dreams of their whole race in rout before an onslaught of fire, which flowed like a wave over the multitudes and slowly, dreadfully, reduced them to ash. Her words echoed in their minds: “Corruption and defeat are the only promises of that tree.” Though zeal brought Elune’s cause numbers, it also brought exultation to the enemies of the Night Elves.

For, lo! many miles south east of Darnassus, over waters and forests, over hills and mountains, within the tall walls of mighty Origrimmar, stood the fortress of the Warchief Thrall. Below the night sky, the sole tower of that building stretched towards the stars, and in the uppermost room, just below the crimson roof, sat the generals of the Orcs. At a rectangular table those aged and experienced commanders argued below the timber rafters of the chamber. At the head of the table the Warchief’s large and black chair rested, empty at the moment, and to its left and right were two rows of six chairs, blademasters and far seers sitting at them. The light produced by the lamp stands situated at the corners of the room were just enough to make most of the room, except the vaulted ceiling, free of shadow.

Among those old and experienced warriors there was but one topic of discussion: how to launch their invasion of Night Elven territory. The unspoken consensus among them when they had heard the news of Darnassuss’s troubles was to strike as soon as possible. Thrall, however, found the idea of attacking the NIght Elves at such a time anathema to his honor. He felt that if they struck at such a time that his six year old nation would be further entrenched in war.

Shouts flew across the table and tempers flared; where to attack? with how many soldiers? who shall lead?

Floors below them the Warchief sat upon his throne. He stared into the flame that blazed on the stand in front of the dais. The crackling of wood echoed in the stone room. He recalled what had made the elves join the Alliance against them in the first place. That incident years ago... a group of orcs had destroyed Night Elven villages and had dragged away prisoners to....he had punished them. Severely in fact. That should have been enough. The Elves were of a different mind. The revelations that emerged about those attacks and of what had been perpetrated was seen by the elves as cause for war. If only he had seen it coming. If only he had seen that madman for what he was.....

Memories of how he fought with the elves with against the Legion ended those thoughts. He had never desired this war. Rising from his throne he said to himself: “Peace cannot be forced, but war can come to a conclusion.”

Oradun, a blademaster whose comparative youth was hidden by his white beard, stood up, slamming his scared hands on the table, “We have waited long enough! Our ally across the sea is about to send forth its armies on a great counteroffensive, and yet over here we sit around while perhaps the strongest enemy we face on this continent is nearly collapsing internally. My forces in Ashenvale have been readying themselves for weeks...”

“Under whose order? Did you presume that Thrall would grant you the honor of leading the charge?” one of the ancient shaman loudly proclaimed from under his brown hood.

Even more perturbed, Oradun bitterly replied, “My troops are the most experienced at dealing with the Elves. We have earned the right to take the war to them.” His green face was contorted with wrath, and his thin facial features stretched over his cheekbones.

The sound of the giant wooden doors opening caused all discussion to end. Their green faces, worn from the sight of battle, turned and their eyes met the sight of the Warchief. Immediately they stood up to honor his presence. His black armor, the same worn by the hero Doomhammer, shined in the light, and at his side he carried his great hammer. His face had a grim look upon it, and as he slowly preceded to his seat over the stone floor he said aloud: “Be seated.”

He laid his hammer down upon the oak table, and took his seat. “I am aware of your desires, my brothers, and I understand. This war has dragged on for some two years now, and still we have only taken a few official offensives against the Elves. For the longest time I hoped that we would not have to trek into their forests and watch our fellows die under the trees of those lands again. The opportunity that has been presented to us, though, cannot be passed up. So, I order that as soon as possible that the invasion begin.” His generals retained straight faces, but their warlike spirits were overjoyed. “Also, the Tauren and trolls have agreed to participate. Oradun shall command the operation, using the majority of his current forces at our outpost in Ashenvale, Kargathia. More shall be sent as needed. Finally, the scouting reports from our Wind Riders and hired zeppelins state that the majority of the elves’ troops have congregated near their capital; I assume, Oradun, that you shall use this and other information well. ” The young commander nodded, a confident smirk appearing on his face.

As the meeting adjourned the Warchief sat quietly in his chair, staring out into the moonless sky.

***

In the southeast corner of Ashenvale stands the Horde’s only base in that region. It is known as Kargathia and its commander is the young general and blademaster Oradun. The town itself sits in an orc-made opening in the forest. The trees that surround it have a healthy hue of green, and among their bases vines and undergrowth abound. Behind the town’s modest fifteen foot high wooden walls, the buildings appeared haphazardly lain out. The only exceptions to that were the two barracks which were positioned near the outposts only entrance. It had been a week since the official orders for offensive action had been given, and finally everything was ready. His forces were congregated outside the outpost’s walls. Oradun, a wide dirt road extending behind him with the forest on each side, stood in front of his troops, the heights of his town hall in the background. Five rows of ten grunts, flanked on both sides by a group of some twenty troll headhunters, in front of whom were two blocks of ten tauren warriors, lined up in front of five catapults and twenty spell casters, twelve shamans and eight witch doctors. He raised his sword into the air, the sun reflecting off of it; his orange eyes blazed and air filled his scarred chest, bare to the wind, and he let out his war cry. His troops did the same, and the echo resounded among the trees, and the lithe soldiers of the forest were not deaf to it.

******
As always, any suggestions are welcome (especially ways to improve my writing style). Also, I realize that that map wasn’t all that helpful for this chapter, but for the next it will definitely be useful. Really.
Anyway....
Next chapter: Milites Silvae [Soldiers of the Forest]. The Horde's march among the trees and the Night Elves’ trap! Look forward to it!

[Inquisistor7]

Chapter IV: Milites Silvae

Hidden behind the trees, scouts watched their green-skinned enemies. Standing in trees and crouching in bushes, they traveled alone, for they were too few in number now to do anything but withdraw when they saw the enemy. Those individual warriors met up only a mile outside of their city, Astranaar.

Their commander’s strategy was a simple one: allow the Horde army to move deep into Ashenvale, then surround them at a point where her army was close to supplies and theirs far. Airula, the huntress, wished though that she had more soldiers. Then she would be able to execute the hit and run maneuvers to which she was accustomed. The vast majority of her sisters had traveled to Darnassus to “fight for Elune.” In her mind she asked herself, “Don’t they know that the war here is also for Elune?” but she always let them leave. On the other hand, the druids under her command had all pretty much left. Some to try and “create compromise” in the capital, while others went to fight for the Arch Druid.

She sat upon her black panther, glaive in hand, coordinating her troops. The road in front of her took a sharp turn, exposing its flank to the woods. Moreover, the ground to the side of the road gradually sloped up. The road itself was rather wide, nearly fifty feet. Dispersed within the forest along the road the majority of her two hundred sisters were dispersed. She would take forty huntresses from that group and use them to attack the rear of the enemy, and then once they struck, her other forces would attack. Approximately forty other huntresses would form a phalanx and charge the front of the enemy, while the remaining archers would fire from the woods: some positioned in bushes, others in trees, and still others waiting to shoot from behind trees.

The sun was low in the sky, and that orc’s troops marched boisterously through the forest. They had marched west over three rivers, and then journeyed northwest towards what their commander described as “a Night Elf stronghold.” Sometimes they traveled on a path sometimes they made their own, but they had not yet fought one Elf. Some jeered saying, “These are the woods of the Elves? I haven’t seen one of the wenches this whole time and for some reason we stayed out of these woods for months.” How could they? The shade and noise of the forest concealed them. However, the Night Elves had been unable to detect Oradun’s true strategy. For Troll headhunters had always marched in front of his army, and for many miles had tried to detect the Night Elves. Airula had predicted something akin to that, and so she had had her scouts always pulling back. Thus, when the Horde army was nearing her scouts had withdrawn, lest they be found and the plan foiled from the start. This time, when the squad of five trolls made their way up the road that the Elves were hidden around they made no indication of seeing any Elves. However, Oradun believed that they would strike soon, since the aerial scouting reports had informed that by now he would be approaching a Night Elf city.

So, as his troops marched he raised his fist to his lieutenants and opened it and closed it again. Immediately the formation began to change: the front lines, consisting of alternating rows of grunts and trolls with tauren near or at the front, did not change, but the back lines opened up, elongating the side lines of the column, and three catapults came to a halt and with them twenty grunts, five shamans, three witch doctors, fifteen headhunters, and eight tauren. That second force marched no further, with the second group proceeding towards the large turn in the road. The formation of that group was as follows. The front, back, and two flanks had ten grunts and four tauren each, with latter forming the center of each line; after those melee fighters the remaining trolls were lined up on each side, and behind them the remnants of the spell casters. The two remaining catapults and Oradun resided in the center.

Airula sat upon her crouched panther: she breathed lightly, her dark helm covering much of her purple face and black hair, which was cut short for and Elf. She was not the most beautiful Elf , and the faint scars on her face insured that. Her green eyes peered through the leaves and the sight of the Horde’s fomration nearly caused her to panic. Also, she noticed that many of the grunts had tower shields upon their backs. It was too late to call the ambush off, but she would be able to change it: she planned to coordinate her huntress group to spilt in two, and have one group, under her, hold off the far Horde force long enough for her other troops to destroy the other group. She had told her troops to target the catapults, because she realized that if even one of them made it to the city walls that Ansanaar would fall.


The forward column of the Horde army came down the path and marched around the path, and Airula nodded and her troops sprang into action: Over a hundred arrows flew at their targets, and the path in front of the Orcs and Tauren warriors became filled with huntresses and behind them another wave of those mounted warriors leaped from the woods onto the path and attacked. Most of the arrows found their targets, but only ten grunts fell from that torrent of bolts. Those warriors who remained standing seemed unaffected by the arrows that protruded from many of them. It was then that the elves noticed the totems that were upon the ground among their enemies, and it was then that they saw the red glow in their eyes, and it was then that they noticed them grow to a great size.

The huntresses joined battle at the front and back lines of the forward Horde column, and Airula, sticking to her plan, ordered about half of the huntresses with her to turn, saying “Their force is divided in two, so we shall hold the others off while our sisters level these with arrows.” That second Horde force in the meantime had set up a battle line about a thousand feet behind the huntresses, and their catapults were prepared. From both groups troll headhunters leapt from the lines into the forest to engage the Elven archers. The grunts on side lines of the forward Horde force took what appeared to be tower shields from their backs, and putting their axes on the ground they formed a wall and ceiling of wood to guard against the arrows. The tauren in those lines fell back and formed around the spell casters in order to protect them.

The front lines of that force were a terrible sight to behold: the grunts and tauren warriors, filled with bloodlust, stood firm against their mounted foes. Some Elves flew from their panthers from the strength of their enemies’ blows. Their glaives floated through the air like a wind, and they cut the orcs and tauren so much that the clouds of dust that were kicked up took on a tinge of red. The battle hungry orcs and tauren appeared to only fight harder, and the sight of some of their comrades falling enraged them even further. The healing spells of the witch doctors, meanwhile kept them alive. The axes of the grunts would cleave the air, and come down upon their foes: on the shoulder, on the shield, near the neck. Many times felling those before them. All the while arrows fell like rain upon them, but that storm was letting up.

The trolls were seeing to that. Running through the woods they spied many of the Elves in their hiding places. Although many fell in that forest, sent to their dooms by arrows, the spears of many others found their mark. Some trolls scaled trees and leapt off of them, throwing their weapons at any Elves they saw. Yet the trolls were out numbered, and the weight of casualties prompted them to retreat back towards the rear army, lest they all fall like leaves in that wood.

Oradun himself was invisible at the time. Walking like the wind, he came into the midst of the foremost huntress group, dodging the charges of their panthers towards his men. He became a whirlwind of blades and wove a hole in their lines and sent panic up their spines. In his mind he thought, “My soldiers are executing the formation perfectly. It is only a matter of time before we have destroyed them. ”

By then the sun was already halfway set, and the hands of the night had begun to grasp the sky.

Burning rocks fell from the sky onto the huntresses that battled against the back lines of the first Horde column, while the catapults in that first column fired their own boulders in either direction, rending the paths behind and in some cases creating craters among the mounted Elves. Airula’s group was in dire straits: vastly outnumbered, and with the occasional boulder crashing behind her (in some cases as close as fifty or twenty feet), she began to fear for the lives of her sisters. The huntresses with her had not killed many of the enemy, while the ground became littered with corpses of panthers and Elves. Indeed, so many lay contorted on that reddened path that the living had to navigate around them to attack the enemy. She noticed the rising of the night and resigned herself to one last charge, and then retreat if she failed to die for Elune. She charged, glaive in hand and hurled it a giant tauren, who took the hit in the shoulder. So thick was his hide and armor that the glaive stayed in his shoulder, and ignoring all pain he swung his mass of oak upwards hitting her panther on the chin and pushing its head up with such force that its neck snapped. In fact the whole beast went a few feet into the air backwards and Airula landed upon her shoulder and all was black.

The battle lasted until the night reigned over the sky. At that time whatever Elves were left retreated, running into the forests and disappearing in the shadows of the moonlight.

Oradun would not delay his victory, and he ordered his rear column forward, and sent with it the other two catapults. He ordered all the shamans, of whom only two fell in battle, to join them. All of the witch doctors had survived and he had half of them remain to help the wounded. Half those warriors who were left of his front column, which had lost a third of its soldiers in the battle, marched with Oradun and his attack force towards the city of Astranaar.

Hours later Airula awoke upon a hill in the forest. She saw in the distance the smoldering buildings of Astranaar. Bodies floated in the waters around that city, and two small streams of water flowed down her cheeks.

[Bullroarer]

Keep on writing Inq. this is pretty good

[Inquisistor7]

Chapter V: Quid Est Spes? [What Is Hope?]

With Astranaar subdued, Oradun set about the transformation of the city into a Horde base. He planned to use it for later strikes against the Elves and as permanent place of power in Ashenvale. He smiled to himself as he wrote the battle report to the Warchief; with such a victory surely the Warchief would grant him permission to continue the offensive against the Elves.

A few Miles north, in a small clearing a pair of Elven women took in the sunlight. One was laying down in the grass, a white cloth wrapped around her head and her arm in a sling. The other was standing, her green cape and clothing seemingly meant to be used as camouflage in the trees. In one hand she held an arrow, the other a bow, and on her back was a quiver with only a few arrows left within it. Not noticing any threat, she sat down across from her comrade.

Airula’s eyes beheld the serenity of that place. The trees formed a ring them and flowers dotted the flat landscape. In her mind, however, perhaps nature’s beauty did not matter at the moment. The archer across from her, Nia, had related to her how the city had fallen. How after she was recovered from the battlefield and the Sentinels had withdrawn to Astranaar that the orcs had marched with almost demonic speed to the city’s gates. Their catapults destroyed the walls and towers, and there were simply too few people to defend the city. So quick was the attack and so thorough was the enemy commander that only a handful had escaped. Nia had been ordered to get her away, but as she was leaving she beheld what the victorious orcs were doing to those they came upon. Nia’s words resounded in her mind: “They killed the men and children, and did to the women prisoners exactly what they did before. We allowed them to do to us what we as a people swore we would avenge only a couple of years ago.”

After a few moments of silence, Nia’s gray eyes searched the landscape for threats, helped her companion up, and they continued on their journey.

***
The land around the great Teldrassil tree bears the same name as that tree, and that island is one of forests and night. It is like a self made paradise for the Night Elves: vibrant, wild, and distant from the threats of other races. The crowning achievement of that isle, indeed its very source of strength, is the tree Teldrassil. Around its base the great city of Darnassus sprawls. Its has three primary roads, each leading to the tree, and on its western side it has a large lake. Upon that lake’s shores stone shrines to Elune rise, and throughout that city the well-built wooden structures of the Elves stand. Moreover, marble temples to the religion of the Elves dot the landscape, and statues of heroes and of the goddess abound. At one time buildings and Elves could be found upon the very branches of Teldrassil but the corruption it had begun to endure ended that, and certainly the current siege of the area ended any remote hopes for that.

Inside their temple stronghold the druid commanders sat in council. The room they were in had a high dome ceiling, and its walls were decorated with paintings depicting the glory of Elune. Also, directly behind the head seat of the round stone table was a large arched niche with a statue of Elune standing within. However, shadows concealed everything but the protruding bow of that work of art, and indeed the low light of the chamber caused shade to streak down the walls, marring their beauty. So low were the flames that burned in that room that the druids had a hard time discerning each others faces, and could only make out the outlines of the Arch Druid’s horns. He spoke to his brethren, his words echoing through the room: “We have been held up within this temple for weeks upon weeks, and we have killed those who have approached it. There is no sign though that on our own we will be able to survive indefinitely. Yet, that does not matter. We have seen Sentinels pour into this city, and we have seen their zeal, but our resolve shall outlast theirs. How long can it be before there are those in their ranks who contrast our wisdom with the madness of the Priestess?”

They nodded in approval to what he said, and among all the shadows of that site there was one which had already left....

The goddess Elune stood atop her temple, its glistening towers rising above the tree line. She gazed out and through the trees upon the siege works and strife of her Elves. A shadow crept onto the ledge to her right and flowed down around where she stood. It formed into a tall man. His short blond hair and his blue eyes glowed. His skin and features were as handsome as one might imagine, seeming to have the very light of the cosmos as their source. From his shoulders hung a black cape,upon his chest was a shimmering breast plate decorated with golden snakes, the rest of his form was clad in black, and from his waste hung a sword in a black sheath. The red gem on its hilt shined with light from time to time.

He smiled and said, “I wonder what you will do next. You know, all we had to do to get them to do what we wanted was show them one vision. After that we’ve just had to wait. Then again, we’ve only been given permission to do a few things on this planet. Anyway, I think you’ve gotten too engrossed in them. I guess you haven’t learned your lesson from before.”

A shadow came across her face and she said, “What must I do to repay you?”

“What you took from me cannot be repaid by your suffering alone.” He smiled wickedly, hissing his next words, “But maybe, if I see these pathetic creatures fall from your grace and indulge in pride and corruption,” his eyes gleamed, “and when I see that you have lost everything., when I see that you are forgotten even in this world, then maybe I will rejoice.”

The goddess became adamant, replying, “Do you think that I will just allow you two to have it as you wish? I understand your hatred, but that is not the only reason you are here. He told me the other reason, and I am not really surprised. Why is it that the others of our kin refuse to help those over whom we have been given sovereignty?”

“There are some things which we are not permitted to do. Though we are allowed to test the peoples of this universe, we may not force them to follow a certain path. We have been warned and we have seen that the consequences of that are too greet. You have brought them grace, but we shall bring them freedom.”

She glared at him, as if trying to bore through his spirit with her eyes, “We were also entrusted with the welfare of this universe. We cannot just allow whole races to fall before the Legion.”

“Don’t pretend that our strategy is without merit, and don’t even begin to think that there is no just reason for what we will do here. There are other planets, you realize, besides this one which were given ‘wells’ as a source of magic, so that the Legion would become divided in its goals and peruse those worlds indiscriminately. Even though they have ravaged many worlds, they have been stopped at each of those worlds and have spent their greatest energies upon them. And by the way, whose fault was it that corruption reached the Nathrazim and Eredar? Our arts were never meant to fall into any other races hands, and if they hadn’t maybe we wouldn’t have this problem.”

Her eyes were downcast, and the being before her began to laugh.

“Well, I must leave this place for now. There is something that I have to take care of with my associate. I think you will be pleased with the results.” He turned around with a final laugh and walked away. His form faded away in the shadows.

With a sigh Elune once again looked out on the siege, and she thought to herself: “I suppose that this sort of force has failed. It will not be long before dissent breaks the Sentinels. The offensive the Horde has taken is weighing heavily in their minds. As it is support for this attack wasn’t as substantial as it might have been. I’ll have to use a different tactic.” In an instant the world around her vanished and she was inside of her temple’s principal shrine...

***
The siege ended abruptly and a declaration was issued to the druids and was read aloud throughout the city. The announcement read: “It has been revealed to us, by the Goddess herself, that the war which has been waged against the holy druids is based upon the zeal of one person. Henceforth, Tyrnade Whisperwind is to be removed as high priestess of the Moon and is to be placed under house arrest. Also, some members of this council shall travel to Darkshore with whomever is willing to fight the Horde. We implore all Night Elven warriors to take up this charge.”

Throughout the streets the Elves rejoiced that at last they could take the war to the Horde. Meanwhile, Staghelm could hardly believe it. It is said that upon reading the declaration he fell upon his knees and praised Elune.

******
Thanks Bullroarer. I don't know if I'll be able to get the next chapter out before the weekend is out, but all things are possible.

[Inquisistor7]

Chapter VI: Fides Auctoritasque [Faith and Authority]

The druids left their battle stations, and the Sentinels took down their siege works. The Night Elves’ generals quickly took command of those willing to march against the Horde, and began to organize them to prepare them for what was to come. After only a few days, Elves were marching from the city and climbing aboard boats and hippogryphs to reach Darkshore. All of this was executed under the leadership of the Archdruid. Entrusting the rituals of the temples to his subordinates, and entrusting defense of the tree to the priestesses, he decided that it was high time for him to fight against the enemies of his race, just as his predecessor had done against the threats of the past.

The priestesses had announced that they would support the Archdruid and would undertake the duty of maintaining the city. They also promised to carefully choose a new a High Priestess, but they asked for patience, since that position is not easily filled.

Tyrande herself paced back and forth in her room. She did not partake in any of the luxury of that surrounded her: the large bed, fine artwork and statues, the shear beauty. Her thoughts revolved around one issue, and with each lap of the room her anxiety grew. Finally, she said aloud, “How will this save my people? Will anyone respect me when such shame has been heaped upon me? Goddess help me!”

Her mind went back to what had happened just a few days before. The goddess had appeared to her in the temple. She had been standing inside the marble walls of the central shrine; in front of her was the clear pool that surrounded a tall statue of Elune. During her prayers a column of light ascended from the waters and took shape. The goddess’s calm voice said: “My cherished servant, the path we have been pursuing has not been effective. I can read the desperation in your face. I know that you yearn for an explanation. I sent you to take the tree because if I were to have directly used my own powers, then the destruction from it would have been even more tragic. On top of that, the ones who have recently arrived to oppose me would surely have taken up the sword. However, do not fear, and maintain your faith. Our new course of action will insure the prosperity of all your race.” The goddess’s gentle face became firm and she said: “You are to end the siege in order to make war upon the Horde. The blood of the siege will be placed in your hands, and your name will be engulfed in scandal. This suffering is not a punishment from me, but I order it so that your sisters, the other priestesses, can execute the major parts of the plan without suspicion. Remember, I am with you.” The goddess had left her then, and her mind returned to the present. She stopped walking and said aloud, “Surely I will be called upon later to do the goddess’s will. She will not abandon me.” All she heard in reply was unnerving silence.

Meanwhile the Horde had not only fortified Astranaar but had also built forts and bases throughout Ashenvale. Thrall had consented to sending Oradun more troops and supplies. If the Warchief were in fact pleased about his general’s victory he did not show it; his face remained grim the whole time he read the Astranaar battle report. He gravely weighed every decision concerning the campaign against the Elves. Very often he would be found sitting silently on his throne. His face would be resting in his hand, and he would not move a muscle. What was it that weighed so heavily in his mind? What memory came to him when he sat like stone?

Within the mind of Thrall the recollection of perhaps his greatest failing would slowly appear to him....

There had been a young soldier in the Horde’s service. He was an expert wolf rider and at an early age had became a captain of a pack of raiders. When he rode, his tattooed chest would be bare to the wind, and his eyes would be be concealed with the shadow of his horned helm. From that mount he could coordinate amazing strategies and could seemingly overcome any foe. He was filled with promise, and indeed, was already successful. Thrall was not blind to that prodigy. After many victories, he summoned the raider.

He bowed in front of the Warchief and introduced himself, “Warchief, I, Bahrer, have come to offer you my abilities.”

Thrall said to the orc before him, “Your skills have impressed me, and so I am sending you and your comrades on a mission to Ashenvale. Our outpost in that region has become troubled from various sources, and we have been unable to secure Elven support. I request that you investigate the matter and resolve it if possible. Be careful not to create animosity with the Elves.” Though that last line was said sternly, after Bahrer had accepted, bowed, and turned around to leave, in his mind he rejoiced.

For, years ago, his father and brother had fought against the Elves under Grom Hellscream, and both had fallen. The grudge he held burned within him. There was but one incident that revealed his hate. There had been a group of adventurers with a Night Elf in it that was traveling through the Barrens, Orgrimmar in the distance. That group passed before a gradually rising hill, noticing Bahrer’s pack above them. When he saw that Elf, all his memories about his father and brother raced before his eyes, and took his wolf and ran her down. Her party had tried to stop him, but he was like a raging torrent, and it was not long before the barren ground was damp with blood.

Why had the Warchief sent him? Were his skills truly so great? Were the tactical advantages of such a captain and pack so great as to ignore such an incident? Why had nothing been done? Why had they believed the excuses and explanations about that event on the plains in front of the capital? What had come over him and his generals to admire such a warrior? Thrall’s questions haunted him. He looked out into the space before him, and feared that the lust for victory still tainted his race....

While the Warchief brooded, Oradun’s forces were again congregating before him. He stood with the trees to his back, and behind his troops the lake surrounding his new base glowed with sunlight. Two hundred grunts, one hundred headhunters, fifty raiders, ten catapults, fifty tauren, thirty shamans, and twenty witch doctors, were gathering. All of those soldiers, and they were just for the first part of his operation! As those grunts lined up, as those trolls sharpened their spears, as those catapults were inspected, as those tauren lumbered into formation, as those raiders quelled their wolves, as those spell casters filled in the rear, their leader gazed above the lake. In the sky flew two dozen wyverns and twelve zeppelins. He smiled broadly and exulted in his new strategy.
***

Southeast of Ashenvale and north of the region known as Desolace the Stonetalon Mountains rise. Among those orange peaks there are many cramped paths and crevices. A pair of travelers walked on one of the broader of those paths, which happened to wrap up one of the taller mountains of the central part of that area. Their managed the rocks and steep heights as if they were stepping stools in a pond, gracefully hopping across the rocks that separated sections of the path. While doing so they even managed to talk to each other.

“I assume that you managed to place the seals on Teldrassil.” The one wearing a mask stated.

“Of course. The little war in that city gave me plenty of time and distracted Elune just as we planned. She was so concerned about finding you that she didn’t even know I had come to this world until I appeared to her.”

His companion let out a laugh and said, “Her spirit must have wrenched when she saw you.”

The one clad in black changed the subject, “The war that is raging to the north has provided us with ample time to prepare ourselves.”

“As an added bonus it has provided me with enough time to explore this globe, and I am now aware of those who Elune can call upon if need be. It seems that we have nothing to worry about. All we have to do now is get the Crown’s permission to use force, their blessing on the summon spell we need, and their final consent for our plan.”

By the time that the two reached the inclined summit of that mountain, a cloud had moved in front of the sun and draped that place in shadow.

The masked one removed the gloves from his hands and rolled back his sleeves. His white skin glowed and he knelt down on the rock. The other removed his sword and genuflected, holding his weapon downward in front of him. From behind the mask came the prayer: “Oh royalty of the stars! Grant your blessing upon these arms that I may fulfill your will. Bestow upon me the authority and power to bring the maiden of the cosmos into this world!” He bowed his head and raised his arms into the air.

His companion, staring at the ground, sent up his own words: “You who marshall the spirits of all places and worlds, you who were granted power from on high, and who suppressed the revolt of the Titans, please allow us to complete our task, and permit us to use the means that are necessary for our success.”

At that moment the winds were silent and only one part of the sky moved. The cloud that concealed the orb of the day moved and light fell upon the summit of that mountain.

His outstretched arms glowed green, and that aura twisted and formed into a spiral mark on each hand. They both raised their heads and stood up. The masked one put on his gloves and unrolled his sleeves. Finally they both bowed low and departed, their supplications fulfilled.
********

I just realized how long this story is becoming (on my computer it takes up about 17 pages). With this in mind, I would like to thank those who have taken the time to read this story up to this point. Anyway, the next chapter will be out when it's ready (which might not be until the end of the week), but it's worth looking forward to (trust me).

[Inquisistor7]

I'm afraid that the following chapter has turned out to be very long. Really long in fact. So, here we go.
*******

Chapter VII: Gloria Belli [The Glory of War]

There is a river that flows west out of Felwood into a lake in southern Darkshore. With hundreds of Elves under their command, the generals of that race, under the guidance of Staghelm, had constructed a line of four bases crossing the land to the very west of that lake. Each base was only five miles from the other, and they were not entirely completed. Under the gloomy sky of Darkshore, Elves and wisps hastily toiled to prepare their respective fortifications for the inevitable attack from the Horde. So numerous were the forces of the Elves that each base was be able to supply and send forth around three hundred warriors apiece. The Elves were confident, for the scouting reports from the druids of the talon indicated that the Horde force was not at their level of strength by any means.

Staghelm sat in quiet contemplation in a grove at the center of the easternmost base. The branches of the nearby Ancient of Eternity basked him in cool shade; the light of the day moved between the leaves and surrounded the Archdruid with thin columns of light. His green and black robes were decorated with what looked like leaves, and his long staff, which looked like a thin gnarled tree without leaves, lay in front of him. His angular, purple face had a look of peace. Atop his head he wore a miter embroidered with images from nature. Another druid calmly walked through the small gate of the low stone wall surrounding the grove and approached the Archdruid.

Staghelm’s brown eyes opened, and, staring through a few strands of his long black hair, said, “What news do you bring?”

The youthful druid bowed and said, “Sir, there is a pair of travelers who wish to see you. They claim to be survivors from the battle of Astranaar. One of them even says that she is commander Airula, who was in charge of the garrison there.”

In his mind Staghelm disliked this interruption. He had far more important concerns at the moment. Hopefully this wouldn’t take too long. “Send them in,” he said, and he slowly rose to his feet to greet the weary soldiers.

Two sentinels, who had clearly been traveling for days, came into the grove, and removed their helms and saluted the Archdruid.

The two warriors stood erect before him, at attention. The one, who was clad like a huntress, said,“I am Airula, former commander of Astranaar, and this is Nia, an archer who was under my command and who rescued me from the battle field.”

“There is no need to be so formal.” He replied smiling, “I hope you were able to make use of the moon wells to heal yourselves.”

Rubbing her shoulder Airula said, “Yes sir, we did.”

“Very well then. I presume you have come here to fight against the Horde.”

Nia hotly said, “We want revenge on those who killed our sisters and leveled our city!”

“I’m afraid that the positions of command have already been fulfilled, but my attendant here,” he motioned to the druid next to him, “shall show you to a suitable battle group. I’m pretty sure that our forest archers need a few more soldiers.”

The druid led them away, and the pair of sentinels thanked him, but in her heart Airula resented not being able to command. For weeks she had slowly journeyed through woods, her body racked with pain from broken bones and internal injuries. She had consoled herself with the beauty of nature and the thought of vengeance.

While that meeting went on, Oradun’s army was on the move from its sole outpost in Darkshore, which stood only a few miles from the border and had been set up only recently. The orc himself was not entirely pleased with the delay: he had had to personally travel to Orgrimmar to meet the high command and then wait for another army to arrive to reinforce his position. Even though he had gotten more troops, the Warchief did not think that Oradun’s army alone could effectively secure Darkshore. So, he had ordered another general, an aged far seer known as Ker’Tal, to take his army and attack the Elves in concert with Oradun. He had told the Warchief that it would take weeks for Ker’Tal’s army to make the necessary preparations for such a campaign, and that by then the Elves would be fortified, but he would not listen. Thrall had sat there and bluntly reminded him of his position as Warchief, and that “our armies are capable of defeating a well fortified enemy. And if we can force a deciding battle then peace can be achieved sooner.” Oradun then quietly accepted the Warchief’s terms and waited the long weeks for something to happen. Faced with the setback, Oradun decided that he might as well use the time to scout out the Elves and see what they were doing. Again and again, though, one thought came back to him: his beloved aerial strategy: he had had to change it, but the new version should work. On top of that, the plan he and Ker’Tal had worked out always brought a smile to his face.

As he marched in the middle of his troops, the blademaster smiled, and he looked out over the pale green grass, and up at the dark sky, hoping for victory.

Staghelm received word that the Horde army was on its way to the very base he now stood in. Wasting no time, Staghelm sent some of his druids of the talon to fly to the other bases to inform them. He thought, “The two bases that are farther away won’t be able to help us in this battle, but the one directly to the west will tip the scales in our favor.” He had little reason to worry, after all, the orcs had only one army, or so he had been informed. The ground in front of the base was relatively flat, and flanked on one side by the lake and the other by a thick forest. If he could use the forest to outflank the Horde then he would be able to destroy them.

His spell casters were amassed in the center of the pale green field, the base directly to the north, and the forest to the west; there were some thirty druids of the claw and nearly as many druids of the talon, and in that group stood Staghelm and one of his four lieutenants, Tyrnis, a powerful druid in his own right. Ballistae, four on each wing, flanked the druids, and in front of them all stood fifteen mountain giants. Each looked like a great statue, slightly worn with age, but still strong. Forty archers hid themselves in the forest, while about another fifty split into two wings , each containing twenty five warriors, on the flank of the ballistae. In front of each group of archers were two blocks of some twenty huntresses, their panthers growling into the wind. Along with those sentinels, twenty dryads were on the field, ten to each wing of the formation. Any remaining troops were entrusted with the defense of the base.

A few miles to the west another of Staghelm’s lieutenants, Retradus, organized his forces in a similar manner, and had hastily sent his archers, huntresses, and dryads into a forward position in the southern tip of the woods to attack the Horde after it passed by. His remaining forces, which could not as easily hide among the trees, were to wait for the signal to strike. In fact, the timing of the sentinels under his command was excellent, for it was not long after they were hidden that the Horde raged into sight.

Oradun had put all of his tauren warriors at the center and front of his formation, and he had one hundred grunts on each side in five lines of twenty. Among those lines of grunts were two lines of headhunters, each twenty strong. Thus, in the front, there were two lines of grunts and then alternating lines of grunts and troll headhunters. The shamans and witch doctors were lined up behind the melee forces, with the catapults in the train. The raiders were one large pack of fifty ravenous wolves with their riders brandishing their long swords; they stormed forth on the flank of Oradun’s army, which was horizontally closer to the lake than it was to the forest. The Horde general himself was in the second line of the charging tauren, who dictated the pace of the march lest the others join battle before them and ruin the plan of attack.

The air forces of the respective sides were nowhere to be seen. The hippogryphs of Staghelm were being primarily used to guard the air over the river, while most of the remaining units were being used to transport troops from Teldrassil to Darkshore. At the moment, Staghelm had only a handful in his base, and the other bases had about the same. The chimera’s were a different story; relatively speaking, they were more available to Staghelm, but they were so few in number to begin with that he had only a few, and so he commissioned them to defend the base, lest they be quickly destroyed by the nets and spears of the Horde.

Seeing the enemy in the distance, the Archdruid gave the order for to attack. The huntress, archer, and dryad wings sprinted into action, charging at a distance from the central group. The mountain giants lumbered forward, the spell casters followed behind the female warriors, and the ballistae were being positioned behind and between the giants. Meanwhile, some of the druids of the claw gathered around the the moving ballistae to act as guards

[Inquisistor7]

Just as when ships enter into tumultuous waters, and the waters of the sea surround them and the waves batter their masts, so too did the mountain giants encounter the tauren. Outnumbered five to one, the giants fought against those weapon-wielding bulls in what seemed a losing battle. The tauren bashed at the rocky behemoths, sending pieces of rock into the air, while the great fists of the giants sent not a few tauren to their fate. However, the giants were being overwhelmed. For not only were the roaring bull-men battering the tall legs of the walking hills before them, fighting with all the force of an earthquake, but from the second line of the charging tauren a blademaster leapt. It seemed that, as he jumped, images of him went into different directions, but when he came into the battle he turned into a raging whirlwind of blades. His swirling katana cut down two ferocious giants; one had its legs sliced, the other was slashed across the abdomen and thighs, throwing it off balance and into the ground, whereupon it was trampled and crushed by the hooves and weight of the tauren.

The sentinel women, who charged on the wings, collided with a wall of grunts and began their bloody exercises. As soon as the two sides clashed, warriors throughout the front line fell upon the ground, their spirits slowly leaving them as their bodies realed from the strokes of steel. The archers, stopping behind the line of huntresses, sent arrows into the air, landing among the orcs and in them. The front lines were an awful sight to behold: the orcs, swinging their terrible axes, clove mounts and riders, but they were in turn punctured with arrows and sliced with glaives. Blood formed ponds in the tracks of orc and panther alike, and red tears flowed down the faces of the fallen.

Spears from trolls and dryads flew from opposite sides. Many found their mark: the trolls’ landing in shoulders and torsos, the dryads almost severing hands and tearing legs. There were so many projectiles landing that the grounds of the battlefield were becoming like a forest of wood and metal.

Now, the shamans and witch doctors were busy healing and sending a lust for blood into their comrades, but they were not immune from death. Not only those near the front lines but any on that battlefield was close to doom from either the sky or the ground.

On the other side, the ballistae were still immune from attack, and their large bolts bored holes in the Horde lines. The druids, also, were not idle. Bears roared to enliven their friends in battle and using their great claws and jaws they tore their enemies to shreds, while their healing spells aided the wounded. Some Horde soldiers found themselves weakened by a mysterious light that surrounded them, and others discovered themselves held aloft in the sky by tornados. Meanwhile, Staghelm held his staff high into the air in the midst of his troops and called upon the spirits of nature to heal his warriors. A soft turquoise light fell like rain upon his soldiers, healing their wounds and relieving their fatigue. His lieutenant pointed his own staff towards the ground, and from it thick vines surged forth and ensnared five grunts, whom were quickly dispatched with arrows and glaives.

Just as when a flow of water is let loose from behind a dam and pours forth with such a great fury that the terrain before it is shaken and decimated, so too did the raiders join the battle. Having ridden slightly behind the western force of grunts, they were able to charge into the sentinels flank. Those large black wolves bit into whatever was in front of them, and the long swords of the raiders amputated limbs and marred the bodies of the Elves. Also, they threw their nets and entrapped their enemies, allowing them to more easily pick off the sentinels.

It seemed as though, with the raiders’ swift attack, that the Elves would be undone, but from the southwest reinforcements charged: one hundred huntresses and almost as many archers behind them. Also, from the woods forty archers joined the battle, their arrows tearing the flesh of orcs and wolves. The huntress group broke into two: one proceeded to attack the catapults and the other engaged the raiders. Those catapults had been ordered to try and destroy the spell caster of the Elves, and for the whole battle they focussed on that task, rending the ground by the druids and turning those they hit into compact dust.

Having noticed the Elven reinforcements, Oradun used his powers and turned invisible, racing to the rear lines where he reappeared. He shouted to those who could hear him, “All those designated for the rearguard, attack the new enemies!” As his order made its way down the lines, and as it was passed from soldier to soldier, there came, from in the midst of battle, particularly from the raiders and the rear lines, Horde warriors to fend off the oncoming Elves.

However, so numerous were the Elves that were attacking from the west and southwest, that Oradun could not muster enough troops to defeat both flanks. His catapults would eventually be overwhelmed, and even though the mountain giants were annihilated, the druids of the claw were still defending the ballistae. His grunts and tauren had taken many casualties, and his raiders were being outflanked. The enemy, however, had taken just as many if not more casualties, especially to their spell casters, while his shamans and witch doctors had suffered comparatively few casualties. As he assessed the situation he fought vigorously, and would once in a while send off replications of himself to distract the enemy. All the while waiting for the moment that was about to be upon him.

For Oradun looked forward to the attack from Ker’tal’s army, and the time had come. In the air a flock of wyverns appeared, over fifty in number, almost half of whom came from Oradun’s army, and they were in formation around some twelve zeppelins. That force flew with amazing speed to the east of the battle, just over the western shores of the lake, around to the rear of the Elven. The zeppelins let off dozens of raiders from Kel’Ter’s army, and they raced for the rear gate of the base. The wyverns took wing towards the defenses, ancient protectors who hurled massive boulders. The riders on those flying beasts hurled their poison tipped spears at those living trees while raiders chopped at their trunks and burst through the gate. What few sentinels were left inside the base held themselves up in the trees and buildings, but the raiders set them aflame, and the handful of hippogryph riders and the few chimeras that were there were sent to the ground in death spins by the spears of the wyvern riders.

Staghelm and his troops noticed the clouds of smoke that rose from their base. Having seen the zeppelins and wyverns in the distance, he feared the base might be lost. However, he knew that a retreat into the base, now that there were enemy forces there, would be cause a horrible rout. Seeing the ferocity of the orcs and their allies, he did not know whether or not he would have enough troops left to deal with the newly arrived wyverns and raiders. He wondered how it was that his scouts had underestimated the Horde numbers so much, and he realized that perhaps they had amassed in Ashenvale where he no longer had a strong presence, and had used zeppelins to rapidly transport their reinforcements. “It is too late for that now, “ he thought, “We’ll just have to withdraw as many soldiers into the woods as possible.” So he told his lieutenant to have the troops fall back into the forest. He hoped that his troops on the outer flank would do the same. And indeed, they did, for Airula, the field captain of the forest group having fallen into death, had noticed Staghelm’s retreat, and so she took the reigns of command and had her comrades pull back. All the Elves on that flank, even those who had come from the other base, obeyed what appeared to be wisdom and fled into the woods.

Oradun, knowing that following the Elves into the forest would be folly, had his soldiers hold their ground, thus not many Elves were felled in their retreat. Oradun ran as fast as he could, and while being healed by the wards the doctors had lain, he shouted to his warriors to move east, away from the forest, and to march north to finish off the base. As this was happening, the raiders pillaged the base. They then exited the base and joined Oradun’s force, whose catapults soon destroyed whatever buildings were left standing. Now that the base was doomed to ash, he had his whole force march south to where Ker’Tal’s army should now be nearing.

Ker’Tal and his army, having sent his raiders and wyverns to aid Oradun, approached the southern tip of the forest, and they saw the rising smoke from the Elven base. Also, if they were especially keen of sight, they might have seen mountain giants in the distance running north alongside ballistae, and they might have seen druids moving northeast through the thick woods. Because of his druids of the talon, Retridus had been made aware of the oncoming Horde army. He knew that at the moment, his forces would be consumed by such an opponent. While he withdrew, he hoped that Staghelm would be able to defeat the other Horde force before the new one arrived. In his mind he regretted his inability to reach his master soon enough, but he also realized that if he had then all of them would have been destroyed from behind.

After a few hours, the Elves had recollected in Retridus’s base, and the Horde meanwhile set up camp south of the woods, their peons constructing crude walls and towers. Staghelm knew that he lacked the power to strike the Horde at the moment, for it was now reinforced with fresh troops, and that most his own were weary, wounded, or worse.

After the sun had set, the moon and the stars shined upon a field strewn with corpses, saturated with blood, and a ruin of ash. And Oradun’s love of victory outweighed the sense of sorrow that entered even his heart with the sight of the glories of war.
*****

So there you go. I don’t mean to sound conceited or selfish, but I would like to request that people please reply and give me some feedback. I mean, I appreciate the fact that people have viewed this thread, and I definitely take Bullroarer’s opinion seriously, but I would like to know what people think. So please respond. I know that this isn’t the best story, and I know that I am not the best writer, but one of the reasons I’m posting this is so that I can help myself become a better creative writer. So please, respond. I know you’re out there. The voices tell me so, and not just the Muse.

[Inquisistor7]

Chapter VIII: Domini Caeli [Lords of Heaven]

After receiving blessings from on high, did the foes of Elune idle away the weeks that passed before that battle between Orc and Night Elf raged in Darkshore? Did they even go so far as to waste the time after it?

The same day that they had journeyed atop the rocky peaks of Stonetalon, they went from the summit into a cave that was hidden from sight and inaccessible to most living creatures. In that cave the sword-bearing spirit created a strange fire on the ground that lit the whole space, but required no fuel. His white robes shining with light from the flame, the voice behind the mask said, “So, when are you going to leave on your little personal adventure? There is no reason for us to delay, our triumph is assured, but is it necessary for you to do extra? I don’t feel like spending too much time on the planet of exiles.”

“As I made clear to you on our way to this little cave, it makes no difference when we strike, or so you have told me. Thus, I might as well drag this thing out for her benefit.” A smug grin marched across his face.

“I am well aware of the animus in your spirit, and I don’t hold that against you. In fact, I enjoy seeing you exact pain on her. However, if you do too much, if you push too hard, then her father and mother will come upon you. We might not have come from them, but they have authority over us.”

“I don’t plan to cause her direct pain,” he said chuckling a little, “I hope to act well within my own powers and to create dissent among her people.”

The dark spaces where there might have been eyes glared, if that is possible, at the one before him, and the voice said in reply, “You are indeed allowed to test the populace of the planets and the wanderers of reality, but is it not so that from on high you were given only specific instances to tempt them?”

“Fair enough, but that is known only to me, and if I violate that duty I will be punished. But Elune’s people has been shielded for the longest time from my abilities. For the Crown, her parents, would not allow me to go near her, lest I add to their grief. Now, it is true that all peoples and beings are given the freedom to do as they will, but my duty is to put each through an extra test when the time calls for it; some times have been told to me specifically from on high, others are left up to me. The time of these Night Elves belongs to me.” he was beginning to hiss at the end of his words, and his increasingly sinister voice slithered with the next words and his blue eyes opened wide, “I finally will damage her treasures, those favored creatures that have been given so much. At last it will be seen whether or not those gifts can save them or make their fall all the more bitter.”

“Then go. Return here when you are satisfied. It makes little difference, to me. I will use the time to prepare for the battle.” He turned away from his blue-eyed companion, and, as he pulled back his hood and removed his mask, shadows poured forth and smothered the fire, as a normal one might be with water. The whole cave had the look of a void.

“Very well. I shall return when the situation dictates it.” That traveler left the cave, and a viscous smile permeated his visage.

He reappeared in the southern reaches of the forests of Teldrassil. His body glowed especially bright for an instant and he took on the form of a male Night Elf warrior. His armor was not particularly bright, his garb not of fine fabric, his hair was of a normal black, but his eyes glowed like moon wells. He moved swiftly and deftly between the high trees and among the thick vegetation, soon coming upon one of the roads that led to Darnassus. With each step he thought of a new way to test the Elves, and with each tree that he passed he plotted out his strategy. There were Elves and members of their alliance that passed him by, but they recognized him as nothing out of the ordinary.

After a few hours of walking he noticed something in the corner of his eye. There was a clearing in the woods about fifty feet away from the side of the road. It looked to be a shrine of sorts, with tall marble pillars and overgrown arches, and in the middle there was a fountain that gushed with sparkling water. He stopped and walked there slowly, each step filling his mind with memories. Spiteful thoughts were abandoned, and the pleasure of reminiscence misted his eyes. He stood there looking into the pool, and the hours flew by, and the the continents and seas made one lap around the axis of the globe.

Oh Muse, please sing and bestow your words upon me! If it is possible, shed light upon the thoughts that could occupy his mind and distract his spirit...

Deep in the sky, in the reaches of the stars, there is a place hallowed by the regime of the ancient nobility. It is a large planet that is untouched by the settlement of races except for one place: a grove dedicated to the Lords of Heaven. Surrounded by auspicious arches and pillars that waned but a little from times relentless campaign, a small font sent a column of water into the air. A man walked into that shrine, almost an eternity before anyone had tread the dirt of Azeroth, and his blond hair, blue eyes, and ivory skin glowed even under the shade of the trees. He wore no armor, and he was clothed in shimmering green and blue. He looked over to the that pool of water, and at its edge sat a woman.

Her long hair was like the rays of the sun, her face shined with star light, and her beauty was unmatched by any flower. Her image was his cherished memory: her emerald dress, her violet eyes, the gold that lightly rested on her wrists, her immaculate form. Her smile was the joy of his soul, and her words echoed deep in his being. “Galthaur,” she would whisper, “why are these simple things so enthralling and so memorable?” She would answer her own question by grabbing his hand and looking into his blue orbs. Sitting there within the nation of the Elves, his heart replied, “because of you.”
His meditation ended when the outcries of vengeance spoke to him. He saw the image of that grove bereft of its greatest flower. She had wilted at the hands of failure on the field of rebellion. He turned away from the pool, and said aloud, “I will take away her garden as she failed to save my own.” All of a sudden he abandoned the image of an Elf and took on that of shadow, and he entered Darnassus in that form, moving low on the ground from shade to shade. It did not matter to him that he had spared the Elves of his wrath for an extra day, for what is a day when compared to millennia?

While Galthaur had been lost in the past, his companion sat in a sea of dark. Quietly he worked out his tactical plan. He wondered what Elune would try, and formulated stratagems to overcome whatever she might conceive. All alone and with duty prevalent in his mind, the reason why he was there recurred to him. There was, of course, the fact that the other worlds that had “wells” were coming on hard times, and that this world, which abounded with mighty spirits, could take a greater brunt of the struggle against the hordes of Sargeras, but there was also the loss he...his brother had endured.

Forsaking preparation for a few hours, he thought about how happy that couple had looked, how he had watched them from afar. He remembered how, even though both he and his brother were given tasks that seemed merely necessary to most, his brother was able to join himself to someone like her. “I’ve always done my duty, I always enforced their will, I punished those who strayed from their orders. Yet, they never turned one of their daughters towards me, and there was only one of our race that I could confide in; we were created by the same One who made the rulers of all the cosmos, brother...”

He ended his recollection and went back to preparing himself. After a few more hours of thought, he used his powers and stretched out his sight over the mountains and across the plains and through the forests. His eyes were hidden among the leaves and between stones, taking in the movements of his enemies.

***

[Inquisistor7]

The Priestesses of Elune spent their time inside what was once the stronghold of the Druids in Darnassus. Their goddess had entrusted them with the duty of protecting the tree. In reality they had been ordered to study that “World Tree” and to prepare spells to allow its destruction, for the Patron of the Elves had discovered the bizarre markings that Galthaur had placed on the tree. The seals were a strange combination of snakes and geometric objects; they wrapped around the roots and met in one spot on the eastern side. At that place was an image of a moon cleft in two by a sword. They were invisible except for those times when either Elune herself or those directly empowered by her came near to them. She had attempted force, but she found that the seals created a shield along the bark of the tree that defended it from all harm. Therefore, she had her Priestesses occupy themselves with its study, and she even sent a few trusted druids to examine it. Despite devoting many days to it, nothing new discovered.

Meanwhile, Tyrande was detested by not a few of the Elven nation. Her house, which was built of fine stone and supported by high arches, had to be placed under heavy guard, lest the angry crowds, which often gathered, break in and end her long life. She herself was kept informed by the goddess herself now (the messengers which the Priestesses had sent were no longer able to reach her efficiently). Tyrande spent a her long part of her days thinking of her beloved, who had not yet returned to the forests of the night. She would devote other hours to thinking about the goddess’s plans. It was not rare for her to walk down the long, lonely lanes of her abode, wrapped in thought. Whenever she looked out a window, her eyes would take in the subtle light and the songs of birds, and her heart would wonder about her plight. That doubt, however, would be overwhelmed, time and time again, by confirmations of the goddess’s affection that would manifest in her mind. She attributed her resolve to the Patron who had always been there for her.

The High Priestess was not incorrect. The Goddess of the Moon was more observant of her realm after the appearance of her enemies, and she was aware of Galthaur’s coming. She knew that he would undoubtedly spread his venom among her people, but she lacked the power to save them all from his touch. Resolving to protect those who shouldered her plans, she left the rest of her flock to the whispers of the adversary. He moved about the night and along the dirt. He first sought out the Priestess’s, and even at times attempted to infiltrate the determination of the High Priestess. What he found each time was the power of the moon, its light acting like a suit of armor.

Outside of the temple that surrounds Teldrassil, atop the bleached stones, an extraordinarily beautiful Night Elf stood. Her features glowed like coals and the diamond atop her helm was akin to a heavenly body. She spook quietly, her words not even echoing on the nearby lodges of wood and stone.

She, smirking, said to the shadow that stretched up on the wall of the temple: “I don’t know why you even bother trying. It seems like a waste.”

From the wall a small laugh leapt onto the wind, “Very funny. You obviously have been working hard to protect your most cherished followers. For nearly a week now I have been unable to succeed in that way. I doubt, though, that you have the strength to help them all. I have already given you a gift that must be the focus of your labors.”

She stayed calm and did not reply, but the shade continued, “Don’t act so tough. You and I both know that you cannot stop me in this regard. I’ll just find some new subjects. So don’t worry, I’ll take care of everything.” The shadow on the wall fell into the cracks with a final laugh, filled with bitterness. The Night Elf vanished from sight.

Elune, appearing inside the wondrous shrine of her great temple in Darnassus, awaited the coming of her fellow spirits, those powerful beings who had stayed with her throughout the ages, and who were, at present, dispersed across the lands enforcing her will. Hopefully they would return with more of their kind. As she stood there on the waters of the pool, ethereal images entered the room from the air. They stood in front of her, and from her left to the right stood three women and one man. Two of the three feminine spirits had the look of young maidens, one dressed as if ready for battle, armor covering her skin and a tall helm on her head, the other looked meant for counsel, her long robes flowing onto the ground in streams of crimson. The other woman had a more mature look she carried a thick staff of wood and wore garments that had the color of raw earth. Leaves formed a sash around her waist, and her light brown hair was crowned with yellow flowers. Her smile was almost as bright as her softly glowing skin. The man who stood there wore brazen plate mail and his eyes were a blend of color. The goddess addressed them: “I have summoned you here again because I wonder what progress is being made. I am especially interested, my loyal friends, in how our negotiations are going with the masters of the sky.”

The leaf wearing spirit spoke first: “My lady, we are with you, as we have always been, but many of the lesser powers in this world fear standing up to the travelers from afar. As for the masters of the sky, they are not able to come yet.”

They discussed their plans for a long while, but little did those entities know that from far away, under the rock roofs of Stonetalon, they were being watched.

Elsewhere on the isle of Teldrassil some of the armies of the Archdruid, merely a week before they would bloodily engage in the above battle, were still gathering supplies and transporting each other to the fields of Darkshore. A long shadow moved unnoticed into their midst, and stayed with them on their journey.

[Bullroarer]

Bravo, I salute your work.

[Inquisistor7]

Thank you your kind words. It means a lot to me that the story is enjoyable. I assure you, the best is yet to come, and there is still a lot to come. Unfortunately, the next chapter definintely will not be ready for at least a week, probably not even until next weekend. The reason for this is that I am moving this weekend and because I have a lot homework and such that is building up. So please be patient, and thanks to all those who have been reading this story. I probably wouldn't have posted this if the next chapter were coming soon, but I want to leave you guys hanging.

[Inquisistor7]

Chapter IX: Vocat [He Calls]

A calm was upon the fields of Darkshore. For a brief moment strife was not raging between its boundaries, and for a short time the tides of fate were still.

With the shade of the forest still clinging to them, Staghelm’s Elves sat anxiously in Retridus’s stronghold. All those capable of battle within those walls were sent out in packs. The order from above placed them into groups of about twenty, each being a hodgepodge of available warriors. Running past the ancient protectors and into the dimmed field, some assailed the orcs from the west; others dashed out of the woods and retreated back again like a whip, sending their arrows and weapons onto the wind. The Horde remained resolute at their walls, with missiles flying from towers and headhunters and wolf riders patrolling the perimeter. The Elves still fought willfully, and in the dark the eyes of some warriors were blackened with doom.

The casualties were not great when compared to what had happened hours before, since the Orcs sought not so much to destroy the Elves as to protect the building of their base. When the orcs managed to hear or see the oncoming sentinels they would form up and shout to the defenders of to prepare themselves. Rushing out in a wind of howls, the raiders strove in with the enemy in a blaze of weapons. Confounded, and fearful of Horde reinforcements, the sergeants and lieutenants on the field would pull back. The Elves’ battled as waves do against a jagged rock: unleashing many strong attempts, but merely chipping away a few scattered pebbles.

There was an eerie feeling in the hearts of the Elves who had seen war’s brutal face. The loss of friends, the sights and sounds of bloodshed, and the pangs of defeat weighed them down. Something else grew within, slowly, as if planted even before the day’s battle with the Horde. Even in the spirits of those who had not fought against the relentless Orcs and their allies a whisper came. Faintly they talked to their comrades in arms, alluding to a vague absence, some wrong of omission. The way they talked would have seemed unsettling to any from outside those ranks. “What I want to know is when the favor of the goddess will truly shine. The priestesses aren’t even here.” Such doubt passed among them like a mist. The time before the next major battle was waged dragged out, not in reality, but in their minds, which focussed on the injustices that were being dealt.

Staghelm had summoned his generals and commanders to meet with him while the night still reigned. He knew that his opportunity for a decisive victory was slipping away. In the middle of Retridus’s base, under the boughs of a great tree, he and his generals argued. Neither one could see the other especially well, for, despite the lights of the camp, the shade was unmanageable. The two from the farther bases had arrived, one of which, representing the top ranks of the female Sentinels, was especially angered that she had been drawn away from marshaling her soldiers.

“I thought you trusted your subordinates?” Retridus quipped.

Almost barking, Umiana, the Sentinel commander, replied, “Your druids tell me of Orcs running in and out the shadows, east and west, gathering and dispersing. I don’t want my army unprepared. I’m not going to sacrifice my men like you did...”

“Quiet!” Staghelm demanded, apparently trying to send his staff into the center of the earth. “I am in charge here!” Looking at her contorted face, “It’s bad enough that General Feathermoon refused to trust me entirely with this operation. I’m more than a little suspicious of that servant of Whisperwind.”

Umiana looked like a wolf about to jump at a deer’s neck, when the fourth general, the long lived druid Thalnos, changed the subject: “What is the state of the enemy base?”

“Maybe if you two would stop insulting.-”

“They are still strengthening it.” Staghelm loudly declared, “They have patrols surrounding it. My field officers report that they can’t break through.”

“Sir,” Retridus obsequiously answered, “What about our air force? Why haven’t we used it yet?”

Staghelm replied, “There is no telling how many armies the Horde has dedicated to this campaign; if we are to defend against something like what happened before we have to watch out on all fronts.”

Shaking his head, the fourth said, “From what you said of the battle, lack of aerial support added to defeat. The orcs’ army is right before us. My scouts have vague reports of other Horde troops along the border, but we have the strength to defeat the army we know about swiftly. If we string ourselves up trying to defend every inch of land how can we attack the enemy?”

“So you’re just going to disregard those reports? I might not like all druids,” her eyes sharply glancing at the other two, “but we have to be cautious. We should use half of our ground forces take defensive positions and send what’s left against the Horde.”

“If we don’t know how many there are why deploy so many? The Horde has other concerns besides us. The enemy before us is significant and they do not have unlimited men to fight the Alliance with.” Thus the ancient sage among them spoke.

Leaning a little more into the darkness that withstood the light, Staghelm made up his mind. The onset of that unforeseen enemy army, not to mention the enemy’s temporary success, troubled him. He decided that he must avoid a repetition of that.

“Umiana, you will keep your troops,” he paused, “you will keep your troops in reserve and monitor the border. Thalnos, I want your army to support mine and Retridus’s. The air force will still defend the skies and waters of the lake, and we will stop the hit and run attacks so that our forces can be correlated.”

For a little while they strove with words over the specifics, Thalnos was the most displeased with the outcome. The small clamor from the troops in that base did not reach them. Those Elven troops, resting from battle or preparing for it, gathered in many circles around the base, within which Sentinels and druids either wandered or reclined. A druid would shout “The priestesses failed!” another, “We have suffered worse before,” an archer would announce, “We shouldn’t have had to suffer defeat,” and the huntress next to her would resound, “We must avenge the dead!” It was so chaotic that not one among them remembers exactly what was said, but all recall feelings of animosity and anxiety.

The sky, when jeweled by the moon and stars, would normally bestow upon the Elves grace and wisdom. Now the bitter adversary of Elune slipped in and out of their fears, speaking to them in whispers. Into their noble spirits he sent his tendrils into their faith. Their sight became distorted and they saw enemies where there were none, and perceived threats everywhere. When surrounded by such a foe as he were they not right to suspect danger?

In that bleak night, under the stars and the concealed moon, confusion continued to occupy the minds of many Elves along the line of strongholds. Their scouts still sent news of Horde soldiers and movements along the border. The Night Elves’ air force continued their patrols, its leaders agreeing that perhaps the Horde would attack at any moment in an attempt to cross the lake and route their bases from behind. However, if the grounds and trees had been able to see they would have perceived no Orcs, no Trolls, no Tauren. Shadows merely moved slowly across the ground. The Horde’s warriors was concentrated in one spot: behind the haphazard timber walls of their hastily made base.

There the Orc generals stood. The half finished command center stood in the middle of all others, the frame of its tower naked to the wind . In the boundaries of its partially spiked walls, Oradun and Ker’Tal talked behind guarded doors. The room itself was barren as far as comforts went, with only a stark table, a few oaken chairs, and a fireplace. Oradun’s eyes focussed on the embers, and he said to his colleague: “I wonder why they haven’t sent more of their flying beasts at us. And after we went to all the trouble of specially preparing for them-”

“We should count our blessings young one.”

Oradun smirked at the far seer’s aged condescension. He glanced at the shaman, who, in the presence of the window, pulled back his hood and looked out, his thin gray hairs caught between the faint starlight and the red glow of the room.

Picking up a once living piece of wood Oradun said, “I was told that you approved of the construction plans for this base,” he moved the log from hand to hand, examining it, “but what of the battle formations?” and with that he threw the wood into the flames.

After the noise from the small crash subsided the other Orc said, “I made a few tactical changes but the overall plan is yours.”

“Anyway,” Oradun said at length, “we know that they have more soldiers than we do. Perhaps they fear another army of ours stands in Ashenvale waiting to strike?”

Ker’Tal, looking at the at the wide spaces of the sky said, “Or maybe they are uneasy without their beacon shining in the sky?”

*******
If I can manage it I will get another chapter out in the next few days, since wrestling is starting up in a week and then my free time goes out the window (along with all fatty foods). So I will get as much of this story done as I can.

And, as always, feel free to reply [hint hint].

[Bullroarer]

Excellent use of metaphor. The attack being compared to waves crashing upon rocks was simply superb.

[FanMan]

I...feel really bad. Seeing all that text, with no replies...hell, I had my lows in the reply business, but...

Hm, only one way to rectify that. Now, I'm not one for constructive criticism past basic stuff for beginner writers, so you'll have to make do with my pitiful 'this is good' talk.

This is good. Really good. Not the best writing I've seen (some minor grammatical mistakes, but those are few and far between), but it's good (equal, if not better, than mine own, when I'm trying. When I'm not trying, mine will be much worse). It's an interesting plot, and the chapter titles are really cool (Latin just sounds so cool).

Anyhow, keep writing, and I'll keep replying :y-wink2:

[Inquisistor7]

Tell me about it. I've been frustrated for a long while about their being so few replies (outside of myself that is), especially since I consider this story an experiment of sorts (I wanted to know how well I could write fiction). Anyway, Bull and Flak, thank you. (And those of you who read this, thanks as well)

And feel free to criticize the story in anyway you please. I'm used to having teachers give me advise on essays and papers for school, so I am no stranger to criticism. I'm just happy that people took the time to not only read this increasingly long story but to also, you know, make this not a one man show.

Finally, I don't think I ever bothered to give the translation of the title and some of the chapter titles. So, for those who care, here you go: Auctoritas Deorum=the Authority of the Gods, ch1 Aeternitas Belli=the Eternity of War, ch2 Gladii Multitudo=the Multitude of the Sword, and ch3 Pro Patria=For the Father Land.

EDIT: Oh, and Flak, this is a lot of text. It's just over 30 pages on my computer. I really need a life.

[FanMan]

My Chronicles are approaching on 200...but in my case, it's not some side experiment. Writing is my passion, I want to get better and better and better. But the only people who read my story wouldn't give me any helpful comments, so I stopped posting, and then during the very recent semi-forum wipe, my thread was deleted. So the story goes.

So yeah, keep posting, I'll try to keep up with this. Least I can do for someone with pretty much the same concerns when it comes to this forum as I do.

[Inquisistor7]

200? That is definitely not a few. Now to get back to work...

[FanMan]

Kinda off topic, but I thought I should mention that Haku owns, and thusly, so do you. Rock on, and good luck with whatever course of action your writing takes.

[Inquisistor7]

Chapter X: Dea Laborat [The Goddess Labors]

Slowly the sun rose, its rays breaking through the leaves of that forest in southern Darkshore. There was a warrior standing in the midst of the trees, arriving with the light. Her armor glowed, and, though her ethereal flesh became tangible, it did not have the bright hue of her raiment. Her tanned skin and bright eyes exuded life and her figure was statuesque. She walked cautiously, her shield held firm and her spear ready to strike. Towards the northern edge of the woods she stopped. She looked desperately at her surroundings, straining her eyes to see what she could sense in her mind. Finally, a blonde haired man appeared at her right, leaning against a tree.

“So you are able to do things on your own! I thought that maybe Elune would hold your hand and guide you to me. But look at you now! Eira, you almost look like a threat!” Galthaur smiled wickedly, watching her blood boil.

“I may not be-” she collected herself, “Elune has told me of your powers,” she put on an armor of false confidence, “and she has sent me to help her people, whom she fears for.”

“Don’t worry, I’m pretty much done here. I have other things to do,” observing her growing anxiety he said, “but don’t fret! I am not done with the Elves yet. You can try to persuade them to think otherwise, but most have already surrendered in their hearts, and the others will be of a similar mind after the next battle. But don’t let that stop you from your duty. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a job to do myself.”

He smiled and vanished. Eira released a sigh of relief, letting her shield and spear sag. She recalled her long training and many experiences: she wasn’t supposed to be so afraid, if afraid at all.

“You have grown since you last saw him all those ages ago.”

Elune’s words were not worth much when she saw not so much his form but the aura of his power. For over a week, while the Elves prepared for war in Darkshore, and even when they had joined the battle lines, she had been chasing him. She always came too late. She had attempted to disperse Elune’s grace on the Elves, to strengthen them, but she now realized that she had been sent merely to quell Elune’s conscience. She wildly stabbed a nearby tree, bursting its core into sawdust and sundering its upper reaches. When calm returned to the woods and her frustration had subsided, she left, once again on the trail of Galthaur the Tempter.

***

Emerging from the cliffs of Stonetalon, a white robed man traveled southwest through the rolling lands of the Barrens. As he walked he turned his mask towards a small collection of gathering lines that mystically glowed far in front of him. Suddenly a cloaked figure appeared in front of him. He could perceive that it was female, and he recognized the features of that spirit. Giving her no heed he pressed on, his march drawing closer to her fine red garments.

“I am the arcanely empowered servant of Elune, Draer.” she formally stated, and dryly proceeded, “It is not possible for someone such as me to be able to strike you unseen, since you would detect me beforehand. I will stop you here.”

Continuing forward, he decided to try and silence the overly melodramatic noise that resonated from the brown haired head before him. Therefore, he stopped and coldly said: “Is it not proper for your kind to first bow before someone such as me?”

In her audacity she remained firm, and prepared a spell, causing her aqua-green eyes to glow. Symbols began to appear beneath her, and she made weird gestures with her hands.

“Anyway,” the mask declared while his opponent worked, “You must indeed be ignorant if you think my sight is so limited. I know of the counsel you held with Elune and the mission she sent you and your comrades on. I know why you are here: you are trying to buy time for your queen and that self-styled mother of this earth. That is why I have taken such a conspicuous path: to draw you out and confound you.” Finally paying attention to what she was doing her said, “And you are quite bold to use a spell right in front of me.”

A bolt of flame flew at her from a quick swipe of his hand. It found its mark, but merely disrupted the image in front of him, sending up a small cloud of smoke. Then the ground beneath him grabbed his ankles. About his limbs and waist a rope of blue magic appeared, and a cage of lightning formed around him. Draer then became visible in front of him, a grin on her face.

She pointed out, like a teacher talking to a pupil: “I think you will find that as long as I have the mana that you will remain here, and I will not get tired for a good while.”

Walking forward, stepping without hindrance, the rope around him fizzled out, and the cage stretched and broke like a spider’s web, its bars falling off with the wind. Before proceeding beyond her and vanishing he said, “Well then, good luck with your mission.”

Her eyes were filled with disbelief. “How could her stories and advice...” and she did not finish her sentence but just cast a spell and left that dusty, abandoned landscape.

***

Elsewhere, on the large isle of Teldrassil, the Priestesses of Elune were again gathering for counsel. They filed into a small chapel within the walls of the Goddess’s temple. On each side of the dim room the whole score of them stood uniformly cloaked in violet and jade robes. The lamp stands burned brightly, and a statue of a warrior stood prominently over a brass adorned throne. A pair of servants outside the room closed the oaken doors, sealing all sound and sight within the shrine.

From nowhere a man in shining plate mail marched between the columns of holy women and he did not turn his eyes to the beautifully painted walls, for he had no need for those images of the past: he had lived through the battles and events that were represented there in those masterpieces. Reaching the dais he turned to address the small congregation, his armor quietly clanging.

“Your Patron and mine has charged me with implementing her plan for this city,” his eyes steadily took in each of those before him and he continued, “for she is on a journey of grave importance for your race’s future.”

One of those Night Elves, apparently the leader due to the elaborate white designs on her hood, spoke up suppliantly to the ward of Elune, “Lord Leones, the Goddess told of us of your coming, and we have always had cause to trust Elune, but we are,” she searched for the right words, “unsure of the strategy.”

Smiling warmly, contradicting the cold implications of his battle wear, he replied, “It is the only one that we can foresee working. We have little choice; though many Elves have already patriotically left the city to fight in the war, there are still many remaining here. Also, we must avoid suspicion, lest the general populace see this as a scheme to destroy the tree. So, we must fabricate a threat that will bring them to flee.”

The female Elves there, the mothers of their race’s souls, nodded, but sighs might have been more appropriate.

***

There is an unknown place, hidden by the fears of mortals and by the skill of the dragons, where the Red Flight has its great roost. Above the roots of a mountain and among its many caves, almost labyrinthine, one can find their Queen, the great, nay, the enormously gigantic red leviathan Alexstraza. So little is known of that place, of her nest, that its description defies confirmation. Brave men report that its ceiling is vaulted with crystal stalactites, others of similar repute claim that it is ribbed with jewels and adorned with luxury. Whatever its traits, the coming of two visitors to its halls caused the Queen to stir in surprise. Before her giant form stood two minuscule women, one who looked to be a glowing Night Elf, and another who was wreathed with leaves.

“The other Aspects have deferred to you for action. In the weeks since I left my temple I have heard ill word about my people, and your kin has not taken up my challenge. For they are constrained with concerns about sending their flights into danger without confirmation from you. Some cite the schemes of Deathwing, others the perils I face as cause for not joining me.” The Goddess Elune ended her brief speech, and stood erectly before the dragon.

With a boom that would strike fear into any of lesser power than those in front of her, Alexstraza said, “My kind does not move for just anything, and indeed I have heard of the bloody battlefields of Kalimdor. I have even heard somewhat of your plight. There is a pair of spirits which troubles you? Must be quite the duo to bring you here. Forgive my skepticism, but your reputation as the Night Elves’ deity leads me to wonder why you seek me out. Is there really a threat that dire, or do you wish the service of my Flight in order to avoid bloodying your own hands on the battlefield?”

The caring spirit beside Elune calmly replied, “What have we done to deserve so harsh a welcome? We who fought side by side in the war of old have no need to begrudge the other much.”

Alextraza replied, “I agree Terra, but why do you two not confront the threat on your own without endangering my Flight to exposure and casualties?”

All the while, Elune’s mind surged with the description relayed to her about the recent battle that had raged in the fields of Darkshore....

******
If what just happened is a little vague timeline wise, know that this happens after the first battle in Darkshore and that Elune is about to recollect what happened there in the second major battle of that region.

[Bullroarer]

Like the suspense, please continue.

[FanMan]

I like seeing something grow. Keep it up.

BTW, do you have any plans in terms of when the story will end? Like a certain number of chapters to cover a certain number of events? Or are you just wandering around aimlessly in the plot? Just wondering. :y-square:

[Inquisistor7]

Well, I have a plan as to when this story will end. I also have a good idea of where I'm going, but the story sometimes has a life of its own, developing spontaneously and forcing me to alter things and make time jumps and convolute the timeline, for the sake of keeping things interesting. For you see, I could've just gone right into the second battle, and earlier I could've describes what Galthaur was up to before the first battle in Darkshore in the chapter preceeding that fight. But it seems that inspiration only works when I jump forward a few weeks or days and then have a recollection or statement along the lines of: "Oh, and while that was happening, these guys were doing this and that."

It cerainly appears like I'm just jumping around sometimes (I haven't talked about Thrall and Tyrande for a while). But fear not! all will be resolved! The primary goal though, in the story itself, is what is going on with Elune and her pair of foes. Essentially, the plan at the moment is to take care of what Elune is thinking and what she will talk about in the following chapters, because what she will tell Alextraza will be CRUCIAL to understanding the story fully.

Does this mean that the Orc/Night Elf war won't be resolved? Well, the reason it is being covered so much is because it involves a lot of Elvesand affects a lot too. And since this is a story about the elves and their goddess I have to talk about it.

Which brings me to a question I have not been able to ask anyone on this forum yet: what do you think of those two (Galthaur and his brother)? Why do you think they hate Elune so much? Any guesses as to their relationship? I am jsut curious as to what people think (And the revelation of the other guy's name is inevitable.)

Also, I simply have to go into great detail about Elune's past and what healing the "World Tree" Teldrassil would do (whether or no Elune's enemies will succeed has already been determined, and just because I used the subjunctive does not mean that they will/ will not succeed, you will have to wait).

I have no preset number of chapters, but I hope to get a lot of content done by next week, lest updates get pushed back because of my extracurricular activities.

So. in summary, it's all going according to plan (usually, sort of). I keep fearing though that this stroy is getting too large, invloving too many charaters, then I realize: dude, you're trying to imitate an epic, migt as well go big or go home.

[Flak]

Awesome, doesn't really change my opinion of the story, but it's nice to know how the minds of other writers work. Man, now I want you to post more immediately... :bigclap:

[Inquisistor7]

Well, I won't get to the background stuff until I get through the second battle of Darkshore (which I'm working on).

By the way, what do you think is the relationship between Galthaur and Elune?

[Flak]

I'll say nothing for fear of being so wrong, it's funny.

[Inquisistor7]

Very well. Though, could you answer me this: what do you think of the battle chapters I've had so far? Do they flow well? Anything you would recommend? (I'm working on one such chapter at present so please let me know what you think)

[Flak]

They seem to flow alright. I myself am no expert author, merely an aspiring one. My own fight scenes have been said to be horribly wrought...but eh. They seem good, and if anything's wrong, you can always go back and edit.

[Inquisistor7]

Chapter XI: Proelium in Campis [Battle on the Fields]

Her scouts, those lesser spirits not nearly strong enough to directly confront her true foes, had watched the gory hours flow by as the Night Elves strove with the Orcs. How much did she yearn to be there, as in times of old, holding up their souls, inflaming their zeal? Yet, there in front of her the course of the battle had incrementally enfolded as she had journeyed, each scout bringing some new detail, painting a picture much different than those scenes that adorned the temples and buildings of Teldrassil. The battle unrolled as follows in all its violent glory.

The sun had risen, its rays reaching even the blood stained dew of that field of butchery, where on the previous day the spirits of all sorts fled in death. Under Staghelm’s orders, Retridus’s troops lined up outside his walls and what remained of the Archdruid’s forces also prepared themselves. Thalnos was directly ordered to form the rear guard with his own warriors and to provide suitable units for the defense of his own and Retridus’s base. Umiana, who happened to be the commander of the westernmost base, kept an eye on the border and had her army prepared for whatever might try to march across and undo the Elves’ war plans.

Therefore, outside of Retridus’s fort, some six hundred and fifty soldiers were congregated. Thalnos’s army was organized in one block with multiple lines arrayed in classic fashion: melee in the front, long range warriors after them, and druids in the rear. That group did not stay with the rest of the army but entered into the nearby forest, commissioning their mountain giants and ballistae to the others.

Staghelm and Retridus cleverly organized their army. The lines looked like five arrow heads lain side by side, with twenty yards between each. At the tip of each stood six mountain giants, and along the edge of each arrow were a few lines of intermittent druids and mounted huntresses. Behind those lines stood still ponds of archers, dryads, and more frail looking druids. It was interesting that they did not spill out into the field behind, for there were no melee units in the final lines to hold back their flow. The ballistae, whose number was around sixteen, were placed into two groups of eight and could be found in the center group near the middle of the arrow.

Standing in front of his brave troops, whose internal anxiety was hidden by age old valor, Staghelm proclaimed these words: “We have already been through a bitter struggle, both on these grasses and even under the shade of Teldrassil. But my comrades, though we shall look into the eyes of cursed death, and though we have already suffered many sacrifices, let us push forward! Who are these upright brutes? Who are they to defile our groves and slay our comrades!?” His face became wild with rage, “And, now let us strike them down, and consign their always mortal flesh into the dust of time and the gnawing of worms.”

The Horde’s wyvern patrols noticed the gathering threat and flew post haste to their commanders. Oradun had already been preparing for an attack from the forest, and had, during the night, spread chemicals and flammable material, provided, with a high price, from the goblins. So, when he received those reports he immediately brought out his catapults and warriors to lob fiery masses and missiles at the woods. Also, he sent his zeppelins into the sky, guarded by some escorts, and they dropped barrels of chemicals and explosives onto the tress below. Wanting to insure that the blaze would become a furnace of oak and heat, he made a request of Ker’Tal and his shamans.

“My good colleague, I know that you’ve been busy with many of our mystical subordinates, but I wish to finally rid us of that infernal wood to the north.”

Nodding slowly Ker’Tal replied, “Say no more, say no more. But know this: by doing so we will have to delay the execution of our other spell.”

Almost giddy, Oradun, laughingly exclaimed, “Oh, I trust you completely to have that spell ready when the time arrives. Can it work against those on the ground?”

“It can with extra effort and concentration,” came the steady reply.

A grin came across his green face.

Now, even as the Elves marched through the first few acres of forest, a blaze rushed towards them. Ignited by catapult and zeppelin, and whipped forward by a drying wind conjured by Ker’Tal and his minions, the fire devoured tree after tree, its burning mouth consuming brush and foliage. Thalnos, hearing the cries of the forest and seeing the black cloud rising, halted his forces with a shout. He whispered to himself, “If only I had the power to move the whole woods back in a retreat of roots, but” and he trailed off in a faint sigh. He guided his troops back west with great speed, sending his quickest runners to inform his sometimes respected general. Eventually they arrived behind the main Elven army, and, as directed by Staghelm, hastily marched to the west side of the Elves, forming a two hundred soldier block.

Already the Horde was being assembled, and Oradun stalked before his lines of men without that wise far seer at his side. Back and forth, left to right, he paced, and at length he prepared to speak. To his right, on the west wing, all his raiders were collected. Just over seventy wolves snarled and snapped at the wind, and their riders reflected the sun’s rays with their swords. There were some two-hundred and fifty grunts, divided into two groups, behind whom marched two hundred headhunters divided in a similar way. A little over twenty catapults were being tweaked in the rear, and a mere fifteen shamans were among the headhunters, while the witch doctors numbered thrice that of the shamans on the field. The Tauren, whose numbers were bulging from the influx of Ker’Tal’s army. They stood in font of the grunts in one strong square of seventy five bulls. Very few orcs remained inside their still flimsy base, and all their wyverns were prepared to take to the winds. Before going onto the fields Oradun decided to use them against the Elven foot soldiers, feeling that the Elves might not strike from the sky after all. He made one final visit to the shamans and Ker’Tal, telling them to wait for a special signal to unleash a specified variant to their spell.

His voice zealous and his manor fearless, the Orc general began his rallying words on the stained fields of Darkshore: “What do I need to say to you? We have defeated Elf after Elf, cloven their effeminate skin, and spilled their blood. My brothers, feel the courage of our forefathers, and fight not just with axes and blades, but with horrifying battle cries and unyielding spirits.”

When the smoke from the forest came into view and then when the wooden embers joined the awful picture the Elves hearts burned, anger filling their minds. Seeing nature so marred by the Orcs incensed them. They had little time, however, to allow their malice to accrue, for the Horde ran into view. Their formation had changed since they had marched out, with Oradun having maneuvered his Tauren to the west and his raiders to the east, in order to compensate for the reappearance of the two-hundred Night Elves of Thalnos (scouts had informed that Orc of their enemies’ new field strength).

The raiders, with wyverns above them, collided against the eastern side of the easternmost Elven group. Spears fell in a rain of poison, and a handful of raiders threw their nets onto the gigantic stone men in the very front, doubling back to their allies with those rocks disabled. Meanwhile, wolves bit at bears, and swords parried glaives. The western melee warriors rushed beyond the giants hoping to add to the battle. Arrows and spells healed and likewise damaged friend and foe. The raiders were coming close to breaking through the Sentinels, but the wyverns were the ones who dispatched the most druids and archers to the afterlife.

The eastern block of Orcs and Trolls continued forward into the Elves, and they damned up the river of bears and panthers, and even diverted that stream into the now tumultuous lake of bloody druids and injured archers. The giants were breaking free, but by then they were flanked by foes, and they could see from under their heavy brows the precisely falling boulders of the Horde catapults. Still immobilized, the giants came to appear like burning logs jutting out of a flame. The fire burned the nets, but when they blindly charged out they were again brought down with ropes and were skewered with swords.

At that time the forest burned brightly, and the trees bravely watched their fellows died, but creaked with shrieks when the tongues of the inferno lapped their bark and tasted their leaves.

The Tauren, that bold group, was sent out as a shield for the rest of the army, meant to hold off the deadly force of Thalnos. The herd formed up into a long arch three lines thick. The Tauren, however, found themselves threatened not just by Thalnos but also by the westernmost Elven group, whose glaives and arrows, when combined with the rocky point of their formation, bit into the bullish lines. The Elves, under the wise druid, at first were not able to achieve much against the Tauren, who shook the earth with their powerful blows and heavy stomps. Yet, the Tauren were quickly being flanked, with the Elves boring through on the east and the troops of Thalnos creating the other side of the claw that now bloodily clutched them.

[Inquisistor7]

The central Horde group attempted to hold off three of the Elven groups, but the eastern one, after little battle with those Orcs, seeing an opportunity, turned to attack the flank of the other Horde group. The Orcs could do little about this, since the other two central “arrows” were penetrating their lines and were preventing tactical flanking, for thee Elven contingents would more often than not strike fear and death into the first Horde lines, with those walking hills and the wind tunnels of the druids bringing the Elves closer to victory.

In some parts of the forest the fire seemed to slow down, indeed, the fire seemed too full, too engorged to devour anymore.

The easternmost arrow as almost totally destroyed after less than an hour, and the wyverns and raiders, thanks to the grunts and headhunters, were essentially intact. The wolf and wyvern riders drilled even more to the west, allowing the falling of axes and troll spears to destroy those remaining eastern Elves. Consequently, the mounted Orcs came around to the rear of the nearest Elven group, who happened to be the one attacking the other Orcs’ flank. The druids and archers were hammered against their own comrades, being crushed against the backs of huntresses and bears. Seeing this new advantage, Oradun rallied his men, saying: “We have them now! Fight hard now!” With a few well timed healing wards, those Horde soldiers found the strength to melt another Elven formation.

With missiles the Elves’ ballistae pierced the air and Orc lines. Over the entire field, smaller projectiles screamed in the wind before evoking moans of pain. Fire from the catapults tried to set the Elves ablaze, but their army was considerably less flammable than the boughs of the forest. Axes and swords rose and fell, and in a vicious monotony, the Elves would respond with their own steel. What spirits and beings could wish for triumph at such a cost?

The Tauren were in bad shape, and it was hard to tell if those soldiers still moving were merely in their last writing or still fighting. So, as the battle wore on in the center the Horde pushed forward to the west, and the Elves to the east. However, the Elves had the numerical advantage, and soon it appeared that the Orcs lacked the power to overcome their lithe foes. For, with Thalnos’s force and with three other groups very much intact, and with more spell casters on the grass, the Elves were steadily winning. It should be noted though that the wyverns had flown back, and there was a strange occurrence: a raider running back towards his base carrying a burning torch.

So, Staghelm, who had been healing limbs and moving nature for many grueling hours, was growing more and more confident. In the sky though he saw a terrible sight. Above the rising fumes of the inferno darker clouds sped forward. Oradun called forth, “Go no forward than where you are now!” That command moved as rapidly as the roars coming from above. All of a sudden bolts of lightning sprinted at the earth. Electricity flowed through the Elves and jumped from glaive to bear and helm to panther. What a storm, what a vortex of wind and thunder!

“Retreat! Fall back!” Retridus thus screamed, but the Elves needed no such exhortation and were already running away. Well, those who could flee did, but many were paralyzed with lightning. Innumerable bolts fell and the crying of the dead was drowned out by the voluminous booming of the rainless storm. After ten minutes many Elves had been cut down by the clouds’ jagged blades, and by then the Elves were in disarray. At that time, the shamans, led by Ker’Tal, fell to their knees around a large circle that was decorated with symbols and strange writ. With no mana left they thanked their ancestors before being carried off by attendants to rest.

Seeing the storm end, the Orcs immediately perused those who had not gotten away. Some made it back to base, but many more, including the precious ballistae and druids, were caught in a dreadful slaughter. Many had just laid there when the Orcs returned while other limped away. On all sides axes....axes.....and the trees burning anew.

Not only was that memory too bitter, but Terra was calling her back from her terrible reverie.

“My lady?” Terra asked.

Elune looked briefly bedazzled, but quickly composed herself and recollected what parts of the conversation she could recall most vividly. Amazingly, she knew that Alexstraza desired to know more of those two men. Such is the abilites of a goddess.

“I did not think I’d have to repeat myself to the likes of you. But...”

“I will begin, calm down.” Elune politely said, interrupting the dragon’s majestic roar and dispelling Terra’s concern (for she feared that Elune had been completely deaf in memory).

“Though I long to see my people and to aid them, I will present to you the long tale of my race.”

Then Alexstraza plainly said, in the last words she would have for a while, “Indeed, but I who have lived for millennia am knowledgeable of many of the ways of this reality so do not try to lie to me, and do not think that I will be swayed by emotion alone. I am not trusting of every tale and script of lore that falls from the mouth of a spirit.”

“I assure you that, though we have not revealed this for a long while out of lack of necessity, that now we shall risk the penalty for influencing a lesser spirit without the direct permission of the Crown.” With some of those words of Elune Alexstraza was taken aback, but she patiently waited for her to continue.

*****
As promised, the next chapter will be about the all important background. Look forward to it!

[Flak]

Such is the abilites of a goddess.

Tsk tsk! :g-shake:

Very nice installment, big, an interesting read. There may have been more errors- the message being PROOFREAD! :y-thumbsu

[Inquisistor7]

What can I say? It was late when I was revising this chapter, and I regret to say that I was not as thorough as far as proofreeding is concerend that I should've been. I suppsoe I let the zeal of wanting to finish the chapter get the best of me. No matter, I will simply do better in the futur. :)

[Flak]

I hope that last post was a joke; otherwise I'd have to lose all my respect for you.

[Inquisistor7]

Of course I was joking. I was attempting to be ironic by having "future" spelled incorrectly. It was but a poor attempt at humor.

[Flak]

I knew it was a joke, and it was a good one too. It was my post that was a poor attempt at humor.

Though if future is the only word you mispelled on purpose... :y-sealed:

[Inquisistor7]

Chapter XII: Memoriae Boni Malique [Memories of Good and Evil]

Elune, who looked ready for battle in her sturdy but revealing armor, spoke loudly and with an air of authority. She looked firm as she began, talking with an almost emotionless voice.

“In the beginning, nay outside of time, the One, the Creator, is. From nothing He made all the universe, and the first beings He formed were my own race, a sect of great spirits. Setting aside a special part of the still raw cosmos, He created their inviolate kingdom and forged a palace of enormous beauty.” At that point the images of her old home flooded back, but she held back her nostalgia in hopes of maintaining her composure. She continued on, seemingly unhindered.

“The first two beings who were made were Jovos, the King, and Iuna, the Queen. After them he made a handful more of that potency: Draith, the Warrior, who wed himself to Minru, followed by Arharus, the Golden, who joined himself to the fair Trita, and then He created two others, whom I shall talk about shortly. But now you must know of the commands handed down from the One, lest I lose myself in the recollection of those two. He declared these laws and they are inscribed on the very thrones of the King and Queen:

‘You of this mighty kindred may not directly abridge the free will of any following peoples, unless Providence dictates otherwise.’

‘The King and Queen hold authority over all those of their race and are entrusted with the maintenance of the cosmos’s order.’

‘You may not slay those who are beneath you, for you are empowered to the point where even the most grave defense is not necessary.’

“The other orders of the One are not pertinent at the moment, and most of them are germane only to the Crown, besides, I must tell you of those dread siblings. They were the final two of that first generation, two dark brothers, a duo of lawful wickedness and cruelty. One of them, the blond-haired Galthaur, is in charge of testing the peoples and races of the universe. For, though there are many spirits whose voices tempt the hearts and minds of people for various reasons, only he is allowed to reach their very spirits and to use his powers to see how worthy they really are, to see how loyal they are to conviction, purity, and truth. The only ones he may not test are those of his own race. Still, what a miserable fate it is to encounter him in a lifetime!

“His cloaked brother is the enforcer of the Crown. A sadist without emotion, he lurks about the shadows, watching his kin and fulfilling the stratagems of the Monarchs. He must smile behind his mask whenever he must deploy force to uphold the law. His name is Parcus, and indeed he the very visage of the darker side of providence.

“All rightly avoided them. They seemed heartless, one of whom was like a cobra spraying venom from his fangs and the other who was a like a panther devouring the unsuspecting from the shadows of doom. We were not supposed to admire them, were we? How could we who were of nobler pursuits entwine ourselves in compassion with they who showed no mercy?”

She paused for a little while, and looked into the dragon’s unswerving eyes, and Elune perceived that Alexstraza was leaning towards belief and that her doubts were disappearing. Elune collected her thoughts and readied her tongue for more words.

“The offspring of that generation were plentiful, and, when combined with their grandchildren, are of a great number. The Queen first bore a daughter, and then another. The first one was myself, the other was my younger sister Lorellia. We spent many happy times together until she started to--she must have been seduced by Galthaur. Perhaps she injected love into his soul, overwhelming his serpentine lust. I still didn’t-” She might have shed a tear but held it back, “I still didn’t begrudge her what she wanted, and I- Allow me to get back to what is important.

“Lorellia and I are of similar powers, and our calling was to the leadership of the Titans, and consequently we were to help in the ordering of planets and stars. You see, those ancients, whose powers rival that of my generation, were meant to labor in the fields of the cosmos and to follow our will. However, they were a curious lot, and wished to be taught all of our ways and to learn all they could. After all, only my race knew how to truly use the arts of magic, for only we recognized and respected its source, which is bound up with the very divine power of creation.

“Also, there were other orders of spirits created after us, who are of lesser power, and there are spirits akin to me but of lesser prowess” with that she smiled at Terra.

“Now the Titans, whom my dear sister and I presided over and cherished, were always desirous to know all of our secrets, but they did not become violent. We refused to tell them anything more than what we were permitted to. Yet, their ambition spread to a couple of lesser races, who were among the first to be made of flesh. One had wings like that of eagles, and their long hair grew over their humanoid faces; the other was tall and stately. They joined the clamor of their longing, calling for greater knowledge, as if it were a birthright. Then one day, a great warrior from among the Titans approached me and my loving sister. He threatened us with pain and sorrow, but we still held firm, refusing to be persuaded by barbarity. Aftrerwards, we promptly informed our parents of the situation.

“While we conversed in paradise the Titans berserked into seditious flames and searched out an innocent people to hold hostage. That riot was so long ago... They haphazardly used their unrefined magics to reach their target, killing many of their own in the process, losing them among the stars. Still, we were bound by law not to kill the Titans nor to hinder their free will, unless ordered otherwise from on high.

“ ‘Will we do nothing!?’ my sister told me. We decided to confront the raging giants, even though our parents refused to yet act. The Titans’ demand still stood, and those they were killing, those innocents, we had watched them grow and reach the heights of virtue. And... and now we watched impotently from afar! So we gave them what they wanted, and they left the planet. We couldn’t just let them destroy whomever they wished in pursuit of power. We thought that if they got what they wanted then everything would go back to normal. They returned to that couplet of races who followed them, and then they distributed that art among them. The new powers they wielded destroyed their restraint. What corruption! They burned their own world and returned to the other they had been destroying!

“Maybe you don’t understand completely, but you were chained before by those vile Orcs years ago, and similarly we had felt chained by those laws. Kept away from helping those we were supposed to protect. We watched those giants grow, we worked with them to seed the peoples and planets that surround the realm of the gods. They were like children to us! And those new peoples, we loved them! Though my sister and I have never given birth, we felt that a part of us flourished in them. The peace and joy they experienced came back to us ten fold.

“In the Titans we saw that their curiosity and yearning for power came from their desire to form better worlds. But that snake, he slithered around them, and we could do nothing lest we risk Parcus’s punishments. My sister told me to allow Galthaur to do his job. Couldn’t she see? Those beings, we cherished them so much that there was no way they could be ready for such a challenge. What sort of twisted design is it that does not leave purity alone?

Teary eyed she took a deep breath, “We were recalled to the Royal Court, and our parents gravely told us of what now had to be done. The Crown said that from on high the order had come to maintain order among the stars by means of ‘pacifying force.’ What sort of wisdom was it to wait so long? Anyway, I took responsibility, and said I would be the only child of heaven to go with Draith, that master of war. But my sister refused to let me go alone, and though she was not incapable of battle I feared for her. That Parcus and his brother, along with several lesser spirits and members of our kind went with us, but to name them all and to describe them would be too painful. For, whenever I think of them I recall the looks of terror in their eyes when we joined battle with the rebels.

“You were too brave and too loving, Lorellia. Why did you lay with that serpent? Why did you have to be like you were? Without you what true honor and real joy is left to us who depended on your smile?

Pulling back her emotions she again continued, “We went to that planet they had conquered, with its plains charred and its rivers choked with corpses. Those races under the Titans; tutelage became demonic: instead of feathers and flowing locks they had leathery wings and horns, and in place of altruism the others wore dark majesty as a cloak on their tall, vile forms. We confronted them all and.....” Elune bowed her head and let out a faint sob. With hair and shadow concealing her face she dolefully said, “I don’t have the strength to describe the whole battle.

[Inquisistor7]

“If only I could’ve- if only that foul snake had not tainted them! I held nothing back, and almost killed those beasts, but I couldn’t save her. How could that happen? The arts we taught them, how could they be perverted into something so deadly that it could send a deity to the afterlife?
There were just too many of them. Though we won in the end, we had lost her. Her body had been slashed and burned by their swords and spells. I had tried to save her, but....

“We confined those Titans to a lone world, locked away in a miserable prison. Thus had the Rulers decreed, and who questions those whose ears are in tune with the Creator? I only wish that snake had been cast in their with them.

“As for my dear sister, whom I had spent countless years with, she left the sands of time. My parents suppliantly pleaded with the One to send her back. He made a compromise: she could return, but only to do her duty. To this day, I do not know whether or not they have ever seen her again.

“The Crown, however, was still troubled by other important matters. First of all, the arcane arts had been disseminated among the lesser races, and already catastrophe had claimed an entire race and corrupted others. Providence did not call for the imprisonment of the Nathrazim and Eredar, who had been the followers of the Titans, rather, they were to be returned to their original homes, allowing them to freely fester in chaotic evil. Meanwhile, the Royal Court debated what to do with the children of the Titans, for they were still innocent and pure. While I awaited final judgment for my what I had done and what I had failed to do, the Titans were reared by Arharus and Trita, who disguised their own natures. Those youthful giants were slowly and carefully taught the rightful use of our arts, at the risk of creating ambition, but were kept ignorant of my races’ existence, so that they would feel greater responsibility for their own actions, as if they were the most powerful entities of all the universe.

“So, when that couple left them, they carried themselves across the mostly chaotic cosmos upholding the standard of order. Even then, however, rebellion rose again: the Titan Sargeras, a great and powerful warrior, encountered the Nathrazim and Eredar. Somehow their corruption reached his heart and drove him to sedition against Order. As you know, he forged those races into what is called the Burning Legion, unknowingly imitating his ancestors.

“By then I had already received the verdict: willful exile or the punishments of Parcus. When I stood in front of my parents I told them of my decision. I think they had hoped I would stay and accept the vengeance of the brothers. If I were there then their hearts would have been pleased. I did not please them, though, and I sent myself into exile. In that way I would atone for the my failures and their consequences. Some faithful spirits and one goddess accompanied me,” she nodded and smiled at Terra, “and they are of a most noble kind.

“Nontheless, word did reach me, before I left, of Sargeras’s fiery army. I was informed of the Royal strategy: because of their lust for power, for raw magical force, concentrations of that energy, so called “wells,” would be created to draw them to select worlds. The peoples of those worlds would be protected from the Legion by means appropriate to each situation, for instance, through the use of guardian spirits. I did not know it at the time, but the place I was going to was one such destined world. Anyway, through this plan the cosmos would be in balance, with free will preserved and with the Legion slowly dying at the gates of might. Also, this strategem would weaken the Titans even more over time, lessening the deadliness of any possible revolts in the future that they might attempt (as their race has often done) All of this was approved, even though they knew that many peoples would be killed by the Legion. That is the justice of the gods.”

“Now when we arrived at the chosen world, after a journey through the vacuum of space, we found the Titans nearly finished on this world, having chained those dark beings who were exiled even before me. I searched out a people that I could cherish, that I could make up my sins through- no, more than that- a people who would become a new source of joy for my regret filled heart. I knew, however, of the Legion. So, I went to the Well of Eternity that the Titans had left. By day I called forth a race by from underneath it’s waves and by night I went about the winds, caring for their souls.

“Over time the powers of the Well drew that chosen people to arcane knowledge, and even though I attempted to mitigate its use and hold to back decadence, I was not entirely successful. I suppose I underestimated, yet again, the affects magic can have on lesser beings. The most woeful result was the coming of the Legion, whom the Elves foolishly called upon. I need not tell you of that awful war and of the sundering of the lands of Azeroth. Nor of how a naive Elf created a new Well. Let me remind you, though, of how we worked together to create a way to defend against the side effects of magic: the World Tree Nordrassil. With the help of you Aspects, and with a great deal of my own energies, Nordrassil became just that and more. The Night Elves became intertwined with nature and with my own powers. And with that Tree, my energies began to flow across the world, allowing me to have an influence over all spirits in this world, allowing me to act as a force of good.

“As you know, when Nordrassil was severely damaged by Archimonde’s destruction, the Night Elves surrendered many of their powers. Consequently, some of the Night Elves, druids in fact, attempted to create a new World Tree without our blessings. Unfortunately, that Tree has not withered, and now the dark brothers are coming to use it for a terrible end. They plan to revive it using the divine powers other than my own. I fear that they will make the Tree a mighty conduit of raw magic. If they do that, then the Elves will be drawn away from me, for the very nature of a Tree such as that attracts the hearts of Night Elves. If they attune themselve to a Tree that is empowered by such energy then surely the seat my grace holds in each of their hearts will erode and vanish.

“So, not only will the Night Elves be exposed to the side effects of magic, but also the Legion will most certainly be drawn to this world like non other. If those two bless Teldrassil, using the spell I suspect, then it will be as if multiple Wells of Eternity were calling the Legion! How long will this world stand if the Legion’s focus is centered on it and if the Night Elves forsake their Patron in favor of corrupting strength?” Elune ended her long speech with mournful eyes and extended arms.

The great dragon at length said, “It is not easy for me to accept all that you have said, but I did not perceive that your heart was lying. So, I will gather whomever I can, and join you. No enemy can withstand the fury of the dragons and the source of the Night Elves’ strength, Elune!”

The two goddesses bowed to Alezstraza, and their spirits rejoiced with the feeling that at last fortune was smiling upon them.

[Bullroarer]

This is a rip roaring tale and it just keeps gettin betta. But try adding more adding more life to your characters.

[Inquisistor7]

Thank you. One of my primary fears about this story, though, you have brought up. I have been afraid that things might become, how shall I put it? matter of fact? because of either the increasing number of chracters or from my own fault in specific instances.

Unfortunately, the Fates have not yet revealed when the next chapter will be ready, and the Muses have not finalized the content. The omens are unclear, and the priests are silent.

[Inquisistor7]

Chapter XIII: Suntne Milites Quarum? [They Are Soldiers of Whom?]

If the skies over Darkshore could tell of what happened after that terrible storm raged, what sorrow would pour forth? Oh Muse, with the winds of the past relate what happened in those bloody hours.

Under the formerly blackened sky, the lightning-battered host of Elves limped towards the base of Retridus, whose robed frame had suffered in battle. On those grounds some Orcs chopped down the innocent, who writhed like sickly weeds, while in the sky wyverns hastened. Their winged shadows glided over that plain of execution, and wolf riders hounded those who were fled under Staghelm. What was once a mighty army was now reduced to less than five score, and those who were once the pawns of demons now raged like hell fire, their green limbs butchering the flesh of the living.

The Elves had been disastrously and fatally hindered by the Shaman brewed storm. After it had ended, however, the battle did not end. Lashing out with terrifying rage, wolves leapt upon those on the ground and catapults let loose boulders of terrible flame, which crashed in a heap of fire that mutilated limbs and shattered bodies. On all sides Orcs and Trolls swarmed. The Elven lines crumbled and were being ground into dust. Just as when an insect infested log is thrown into a fire and the bugs scramble from the flames and squirm between splinters, so too were the Elves confronted by the Orcs. The weight of injury seemed to block the flight of so many that it was but a matter of time, merciless time, until they were consumed by war’s sharp flames.

Staghelm himself had been struck by lightning, but not so badly as his comrade, Retridus. How fortunate the Arch Druid was that, though he stood next to him, he was not so grievously wounded. He picked up his injured friend and with all the determination of his soul committed himself to flight. As he sped through the macabre lines he sent up frantic calls of retreat, similar to those of Retridus before he was wounded with winding thunderbolts. Screams of pain clamored and howls of sadistic pleasure battered Staghelm’s ears. His sweaty body was bereft of its finery: his miter had fallen from his head causing his hair to blew in disheveled strands, his robes were a mesh of bloody stains and dirty residue, and his staff had been broken by the fury of lightning.

Elves pried themselves away from that lake of sorrow and fled north. The Orcs were so busy with those directly in front of them that, for a short time at least, they paid no heed to those running away. Meanwhile, Thalnos, the aged druid, was unharmed from those electrical blasts, having used a hasty spell to save himself. He stood there in the midst of the battle attempting to fight on. All of the sudden, however, some of the sentinels around him laid hands upon him.

One of them, from under her dented helmet, said to him,“Sir, you must go. We will fight on to help protect your way.”

His old voice responded, “I will not abandon you here!” And he thrashed his limbs, and he struggled until one of those fighting the raging enemy said, with her back turned to him, “We will not abandon our fallen sisters, but will join them in the afterlife!”

Amazed, he stopped and quickly took his leave. That group was quickly drowned with the Horde’s blades, but surely, even as their eyes darkened, their souls must have been again meeting their brethren.

Now, that field of Darkshore climbs slightly upwards as it stretches under Retridus’s base. Survivors were being carefully recovered from on that gentle slope. The Arch Druid, however, marched on his own into the settlement, whose primary street was lined with trees. He mustered these words, “Do you leave your general to death’s cold touch? Where are you healers? Where is the captain of this place?”

Already Retridus was being taken from his arm, and an armored clad sentinel came up to him, her helm a virgin to battle and her glaive still immaculate. Her face did not seem extraordinary, but any beauty was lost on that commander, whose mind was then frantic. Warily his eyes dashed about, suspecting the sentient trees and the glowing wisps. Perhaps he feared enemies might pour in from around him, or perhaps the clang of axes still resounded in his ears. Nevertheless, what he could make out of her words and gestures- some blathered greeting and messy salute- were instantly discarded in his mind. He angrily told her, his chest rising with wind, “Maybe you didn’t see that storm of devilry or the roving battalions of savages that confronted us, but evacuate all ready! Send messengers to get General Umiana. Do something! stop staring at me and move!”

She rushed off in a blur and clang of metal, her blue eyes shocked from the ragged general’s tone. Staghelm walked over to a moon well, and as he bent over, the waters failed to reflect the far-off, yet, oncoming, enemy.

The Horde was organized enough to have sent a considerable force, with all their catapults rolling with it and with all their remaining raiders among that group. Oradun himself, wyverns high above his sprinting legs, greedily looked towards the increasingly less distant base. As spears and nets trapped straggling Elves in deadly binding, the war machines drew up and the wave of weary green soldiers took a defensive rest. Patched with bloody dew, the grasses were bluntly crushed by that crescent of warriors. The emptying base was shaken by rocks of flame, and Oradun quickly realized that no one remained, for no missiles flew at the Orcs and his aerial warriors could not, at the moment, discern any nearby enemies.

Fleeing north and then west, Staghelm led a paltry force of neophytes and broken warriors. A scrap of luck was thrown to those survivors, for they were spared immediate doom. Staghelm’s voice paced between comforting his servile subordinate and whipping the retreat onward. His friend was being carried on a stretcher, a blanket, moist with blood, covering his charred clothes. They passed under a brief forest, and they were at last safe.

Umiana received word quickly of the Horde’s brutal tactics. Her own scouts had already reported, so by the time the runner from that other base came she was gone. With a quickly assembled force of nearly two hundred she rushed towards Retridus’s base. Oradun, however, was forewarned by his aerial units of the oncoming charge. So he ran about the burning base, gathering his men personally, and talk quickly spread of the new threat. Prying themselves away from the blazing buildings they came out of the smoldering settlement.

Umiana, riding on a rather large panther and wielding a shining bow, led her troops straight into the Orcs. Her blue armor was open to the breeze, her green locks ran out from under her violet helm, with some of them gently sitting upon her wide forehead and even coming in front of her hazel eyes. Now, the lines of each army were similar in that both sides took the traditional formation of melee in the front and ranged in the rear. Also, both were not divided into different groups, but each drew themselves up in one block. Moreover, because of his spear hurling wyvern riders, Oradun’s force was about on par with Umiana’s in terms of numbers. However, the battle did not go his way, rather it was mournfully undecided in a violent battle line. The sights of that fight, of cloven armor and sliced veins, were not as notable as the previous had been, but maybe it was the Elves’ lack of fortune that has caused those memories to blur.

For Oradun was no fool. He had ordered that the other segment of his army come to assist him as soon as possible, and they dreadfully came after little more than half of an hour of battle. Yet, during those thirty or so minutes the Elves were fairing rather well. No clear winner could be discerned, but Umiana herself was leading a zealous flow of Sentinels against the right wing of the Horde. All that was undone and victory was crushed under the trampling of newly arriving grunts. They came drenched in Elven blood and their limbs were soaked with exertion.

Fifty or so of them came into view and they threw the grim pendulum of battle decisively in the Orcs’ favor. The Elves held on at first, resisting the rush at their southern flank, but Umiana knew that to stay would be fatal. Forsaking her position at the head of the battle she rode to the west, firing arrows at any foe she could. Her calls, uttered in an ancient language, motivated her lines to carefully pull back. In response to the retreat Oradun held his troops back, allowing the Elves to get away. As soon as possible he had his reinforcements cease their attack. Rather than peruse them, and risk being over stretched, he dedicated his troops to finishing off what was left of the base behind them.

Shrugging his shoulders, and therefore heedlessly jutting his blade into the air, he said, “We will kill them later, let us rest now and indulge ourselves in the sport of pillaging,” and he ended with a toothy smile.

Umiana looked back, past her saddened troops and at the rising clouds of smoke. It was not long until Retridus’s base became the next heap of ash to mar the landscape of Darkshore.

[Inquisistor7]

***

By the time the sun had taken its rest beneath the horizon, the Night Elves were comfortably congregated in and around Thalnos’s base. That settlement was arranged with two long and broad streets crossing each other, creating four sectors. The outer edges of each area were guarded by tree straddling towers, built by the Elves, and tall beings of bark, who threw huge stones. Now, in the northeastern corner, a tall tree, whence wisps came, sent out its roots to a gold mine, and in the other districts various training facilities and workshops abounded. Clusters of moon wells were near the southern entrance, and trees were left undefiled in small groupings throughout the area, with a quiet grove situated in the middle of the entire base.

Among the silvan warriors sorrowful discussion was opening the gates of their hearts to despair. Especially dreary were the musings coming from a group of veteran sentinels resting near a handful of empty moon wells. Two among them, who had survived because of their sisterly loyalty to each other, were talking. Sitting against a pair of trees they melded with the shadows, making them invisible to any other race. Airula, if one could distinguish her in the night, turned her helm-less head towards her comrade and tentatively struck up conversation with a shaken voice.

“I had always been told, ever since being trained as a sentinel, that my service would last as long as strength remained within me. I still thought, even when I took my first assignment, that things wouldn’t be so bad. How different could it be? Our kind has always held itself to the standard of inevitable victory, the path was so well tread, the end seemed so assured.” She clutched at the wind and, dolefully swallowing, she said, “But now, it’s not so simple is it?”

Nia, whose body was covered with assorted wrappings and herbal treatments slowly sent forth words in reply to Airula’s tearful stare: “While we traveled away from Astranaar, a part of me always thought we could always go back home. I guess I hoped...” at that she abruptly stopped and hollowly stared forward.

Becoming a little more animated, and revealing more of herself, Airula said, “We did not lose because of fear. We lost because of those crazed women, who set themselves up in holy places as our leaders! If they hadn’t divided us and drawn so many away.” She in turn stopped, and slammed her fist against the tree, whose dim branches recoiled and whose leaves then blocked what little light came from the sky above.

She calmed down after a brief moment and rested her frame. Looking at the blades of grass she said under her breath, “Has She abandoned us despite our valor?”

Her friend, quietly moaning and trying to move, turned her eyes up towards the heavens and weakly sent up a most quiet curse, “Why do you bereave us of grace when we most need it?” With that she faded into sleep, but Airula brooded quietly in the ever darkening shade.

While their subordinates mourned under the once favorable night sky, whose expanses were adorned with large clouds, Staghelm, Umiana, and wise Thalnos met in that druid’s placid sanctuary. That is, they met inside of the base’s grove, but they were shy one member. Retridus was still recovering and, indeed, Staghelm’s staff was still splintered from lightning. Within its low stone walls, under its capriciously waving trees, and upon its flowery grasses, the three of them argued, with abrasive Umiana scolding the Arch Druid.

Helm fixed in her arm and hair at her shoulders, she continued her derision, “Clearly we have put too much trust in your judgments and obviously we need a new direction. One founded not upon the wisdom of drowsy druids but on the warrior skill of the Sentinels.”

Staghelm’s eyes did not confront her ambitious look, but looked hollowly at his surroundings. He shifted his weight from one side to another, as if needing something to lean upon. He finally said, with a faint sigh, “It’s not as if you ever,” and the pace of his speech slowed even more, “completely disregarded the strategies that were decided upon.”

Thalnos, his robe decorated with autumn leaves and his dark hair only slightly tousled, added, “We have waited too long. We must use everything we have now, every last beast, Sentinel, and druid that we can muster. Whoever commands, it makes no difference now. We must rely upon overwhelming tactics and not upon grandiose strategy.”

Umiana nodded and smugly smiled, “You’re right. But I have even greater doubts about the wisdom you druids have, especially after today.”

Staghelm’s face was angrily contorted and with venom he shouted, “You, you’re not in charge here! Whom are you trying to deceive? We all know that you supported us, and you even ran into battle this day, and fled back with your tail between your hairy canine legs!”

Umiana’s pride was pricked and from her muzzle she growled, “You have no right to criticize me, you-”

“Enough!” Thalnos shouted, ending the squabble. His face became suddenly more potent, and just anger animated him, “There is only one solution to the dilemma we face. We must destroy the Orcs from the sky!”

They both were shocked for a moment, but then collected themselves and accepted his advice. At last, under the boughs of trees, they finally were able to agree upon a tactic, their disputes settled by a sage.

***

Far to the southeast, even more distant than the leaves of Ashenvale, the Warchief was again turning his thoughts towards his war against the Night Elves. He sat alone in his throne room, as was his wont. The giant doors to his court were opened, and on the red carpet, flanked with lamp stands, a phalanx of counselors walked. With their brown hoods pulled back and their old eyes attentive they one by one reported to the high chieftain. Those far seers, in calm monotone, relayed the events of Darkshore as they had received them in their arcane meditation. Thrall sat stiff as a boulder, and when they finished he politely asked them to leave. As they withdrew respectively he called out, “Verro, you may stay.”

Like water flowing along a rock, the other far seers passed Verro. When they had left him he turned around and bowed, his face expressionless.

Only the crackling of flame could be heard until those great doors were closed, and afterwards Verro’s wrinkled face moved in speech: “My lord what is that you seek?”

Thrall, coming down from the dais said, “The battles to the north, though won with grizzly cost, are still victories. Our war with the humans does not go as well.” At the base of the dais, on the dark stones, he began to pace from wall to wall, still listing off the situations he faced, “And we have already reserved at Astranaar more soldiers for Oradun and Ker’Tal, but I do not wish to become weak against our pink-skinned enemy.”

Verro’s dour face, with its thin white beard, was unmoved, and he said to his master, “I cannot foresee everything but we must not forget that the humans are not ignorant of the Night Elves’ plight. The humans will likely strike with greater strength when it is possible. Though it is also possible that those Night Elves who are fighting in other places in the world, whether adventuring or fighting alongside the humans, may return to their homeland and help their besieged lands. We should not go too far, rather we must try to secure our safety. The best way to do so is by fortifying strong bases, bases upon newly claimed territories, to relieve our difficult war efforts.”

Thrall, coming more clearly into the light of the room nodded and said, “I understand that against our current enemies we must use that belligerent strategy, but we will gain more of the Night Elves’ enmity by fueling the flames of war.”

“But my lord, they began this war because of the hatred incurred by that orc, who, well, I need not remind you.”

“You had best not,” Thrall replied, his face visibly perturbed. However he then said, after a suppressing sigh, “What power do the Elves still hold in Darkshore? What did you and your brethren see that can still spell defeat for us?”

Immediately the statue like Verro said, “The great flocks of hippogryphs and chimaeras still patrol the waters of Darkshore. They are many and at their head flies a great beast, a huge chimaera with a roar that almost bursts into flame and whose hard flesh has the color of ruby.”

Thrall then turned around and scaled the dais, saying, when he turned around at the top, “Then the forces at Astranaar should provide just enough strength to turn the tide in our favor?”

“It is as you say, though much depends on the skill of our generals.”

On his throne, Thrall, clad in Doomhammer’s armor, proudly replied “Of course, but they have not yet failed. We should be able to stick to the plan. After the Night Elves are finally beaten in Darkshore we will pull-back to Ashenvale, fortiying Astranaar anew.” At length he added in a pleasant voice, “Thank you for your service. You may go.”

Verro reverently replied, “My duty is my pleasure.” He then withdrew, leaving the Warchief with only the fiery lights of his lonely chamber as company.

[Bullroarer]

Your characters are begining to take a more solid shape through personality, which you have conveyed through dialogue. i am impressed.

[Inquisistor7]

Thanks Bull, and thanks again for your previous advice.

Anyway, I was talking with my brother earlier today about this story, and he said to me that it was essentially a story about the elves and their deity having a bad day. Considering that I kill an average of 200 elves per chapter (okay maybe not that many), I can't really disagree. The reason I bring this up is because, well, just because. I mean, I hate to make it seem like I have a grudge against the Night Elves (again, the high casualties might indicate that). I don't know. I'm probably just fretting over this because a part of me hates to think that my story could be reduced to so simple a theme, but so far in the story that seems to be the case. On top of that, I fear it might damage the enjoyability of the story.

Sorry to waste people's time with this meandering, but, well, I thought I might as well throw it out there. I don't know why I worry so much.

I am glad to say though that this story has been fun to write, and that with every chapter I write I increasingly feel that I am doing something worthy of my time. So, the next chapter will be out whenever it's ready. And, as always, look forward to it!

[Flak]

Sorry for not posting, was tied up. Great installment. Also, yes, I look forward for the next one ^^

Also, nice avatar.

[KrewL RaiN]

Your avatar is the mysterious masked cloaked man in your story?

Anyhow I finished reading up to here and its goodz0rz, but its hard to get a picture going in my head some of the battle scenes. I would think that they would be hard to write anyway for fights have lots of action and its hard to get it all. Keep posting more

[Flak]

His avatar is Haku, the man-woman ninja kid from Naruto with an advanced bloodline limit that allows 'him' to transport (teleport) through mirrors made of ice.

Of course, it's a she, even though the anime and manga claim it to be a he.

[Inquisistor7]

Haku is well-known for his cross-dreassing exploits...

Anyway, yeah, my avatar is Haku, not to be confused with Parcus, who does indeed fit into the cliche category of "mysterious robed guy."

But where are my manners? Thanks KR for reading and replying. As far as batles are concerned, well yeah they are hard to write, but I will do what can to try and fix what you have mentioned. I understand what you're saying, and I must admit, there are probably ways I could've improved each battle scene (especially the very first one in Darnassus, which was probably the least well made of all of them). One more thing, I very much appreciate what you have pointed out, since I take the battle scenes very seriously ( before writing one of the war scenes I diagram them and go through quite a bit of planning and such).

I will post the next chapter when it is ready, but considering how long these chapters can be and how much I have to cover I can't make any promises.

[KrewL RaiN]

His avatar is Haku, the man-woman ninja kid from Naruto with an advanced bloodline limit that allows 'him' to transport (teleport) through mirrors made of ice.

Of course, it's a she, even though the anime and manga claim it to be a he.

Yeah I'm actualy starting to read the Naruto manga for I see that everyone is interested in it and I say its pretty funky indeed. But when they were fighting Haku...like ow the giant needles (I dunno what that those weapons are called) sticking through there knees and necks.....owwww. And most of the guys look like shes in manga lol, I'm like is Haku a boy or a girl :y-mm:


Hmmmmmm guess a little comment can go far....still a bit shy in this part of teh forum though :y-curtain but I'll come out of the shadow at times to say somthing though Flak always trys to get me to say longer comments...yes yes I remember thoughs chats, though you were a bit to hard on me mister, which you said in that "this forum is dying" thread

[Inquisistor7]

Chapter XIV: In Urbem sub Arbore [In the City under the Tree]

After that bloody day in Darkshore, indeed after the sun had sprinted across the sky three times, prayers were being offered under the twilight sky, beneath the grand temple of the Goddess, inside a precious shrine. Torches flanked the expanses of the well sized room, illuminating the mosaic walls, which were decorated with images of ancient heroes and the first World Tree, Nordrassil. The ceiling enshrined a painting of the Goddess, her black locks flowing out, her perfect form spread out awaiting an embrace. An aura of flowers was about her, and she was clad with well placed petals. In her gray eyes and noble face a look of loving mercy was maintained. The light, however, could not disperse all the shadows, and streaks of darkness hung like cobwebs along the walls, and a long shaft of those empty rays, rushing over the beige stone, cut across the Goddess’s neck, severing her affectionate stare from her promised cradle, which itself was intermittently wrapped and pierced with spears of shade.

Several rows of tombstones, embedded in the floor, created paths which ultimately ended near the altar that sat at the far wall, just in front of a fabulous statue of the Goddess. Its onyx hair, its most bright armor, its hard skin, made out of some precious stone with a hue of purple, and its lifelike eyes, all together rose some seven feet, towering over the upheld slab of marble which at that time was barren of any ornament.

Through the arching door whispers came from two women. Few words could be discerned, but the name “Tyrande” was often mentioned along with vague references to a “plan.” Nevertheless, two solemn priestesses marched in, holding in their hands what appeared to be gem encrusted objects shaped like heavenly bodies. Hoods up and lips sealed, one managed to produce and place a cloth over the white altar. They both reverently set down the few, but beautiful, blessed artifacts. Saying a few quick prayers for the dead, they turned and steadily left the crypt. Once out of the room, more whispers came in: this time more audible.

“Is it necessary to put the High Priestess through more?” Thus came one feminine voice. Another sentence arrived, maneuvering between torches and bouncing off of stone, “I just hope this whole thing doesn’t backfire.” In turn the reply ran in, though it was faded with distance, “We have other duties, we should get to them.” Only the noise of dancing flames, lit for the dead, could be heard in that sacred sanctuary.

From the ceiling, just as when a drop of water hurls itself downwards, the shadows collected and fell towards the center of the room. Even as that black mass hit the stone floor its upper parts took the shape of man, and his lower body quickly formed from the spread out shadow. His blonde hair and blue eyes sparkled, and his tan yet fair skin glowed with a noble intensity. Amidst the tombs and staring at the statue he raised a gloved hand a little into the air. Suddenly dark bricks appeared, sealing the archway. Then they changed in color to appear like their companions, so that any going down that corridor would not notice the holy chamber but would see only more wall.

With his snake decorated armor, his black raiment, and his dark gloves, he stood still for a moment. He extended his sable arms as if in supplication and said: “Oh great one, I do not want anyone to disturb us. Oh fabulous Goddess,” he rolled his eyes as he said it, “please surrender your people. Set them free. Oh, please hear my prayer.” He approached the hallowed altar, and placed his hands upon it, looking at the statue with false sincerity. He mockingly said, “Why do you hoard them? This precious people of yours, why do you cling to them even in the face of the will of heaven? Oh, not talking today?”

He got off the altar and walked towards the walls, indiscriminately stepping on graves. He began again, “Heh, you’ve always been like this. Always doing as you please, following your capricious emotions. I have looked into the hearts of these Elves” and here anger rose in his voice, “and I have seen what you have done to them! Their spirits are as attached to you as the Titans were so long ago. You have not learned at all.”

Gently sweeping his hand over a mosaic he said after a pause, “Are you trying to make up for what you lost? Are these temples and shrines, these tall trees,” he wrathfully broke through the stone with his fingers and broke up the image of Nordrassil, “are they supposed to make up for the loss of that most celestial flower Lorellia? You caused her to-” He turned his angry eyes towards Elune’s stone face, and, with all the speed of speed of fury, rushed up to the tall statue.

Grabbing its piously extended arms he shouted, “It’s because of you that she’s gone. If, if you hadn’t given them so much power, if you had let them grow on their own maybe they could’ve resisted my-but I was told to do that.” He looked away briefly, but he turned back to the tall image, his height growing with horrific majesty, “If you had just done what you were supposed to do, if you had listened, she would still be here.”

Hesitantly he confided, “I remember seeing her on that broken battlefield, struck down with magics and arcane swords, all of which the Titans were able to create on account of you. It doesn’t matter that you both did it. No, no you should’ve been wiser. You should’ve told her- You should’ve just-”

He let go, and crumbs of rock fell from the statue's arms. Again he approached the altar, this time speaking with a calm voice, “I have been assured that, though I take my time, that my own vendetta will be completed along with the Crown’s plan for this world. Oh yes my dear Elune, my should’ve been sister, you will watch them fall from grace, you will watch as all holiness fades away” and he then took out his sword and held it aloft. “If only I were permitted to send you to join her!” The sword fell with the strength of his arm and sliced through the altar, its form sundered and the treasures atop it slid to their ruin. In a rage he jumped backward and, with a dreadfully fast spin, beheaded the statue, its face cracking and breaking into pieces on the floor.

The sword was thrust into the rock near his feat, and that blade of cruelty stood erectly with a silver glow. Its red gem, that sphere of mineral fire, gave forth a bloody light. Galthaur then, with a look of unwound anger and sadistic pleasure, broke the statue from its stand and cast it against a wall, breaking apart the images of bravery that it struck. Finally, he looked up to the partially clad painting. “If only you were really here. Fortune is with you at this moment, but,” he spoke as he grabbed his long weapon, “it is inevitable that my victory will be woven, no it is already decided!” He then threw his sword at the image, and it stuck it between the eyes. Becoming as tall as the dark shadows on the wall, and taking up some of its color, he grabbed the hilt, and ran the sword down the painting’s length, a mist of dust and stone raining behind him. Returning to his normal form and replacing his sword, he walked towards the doorway.

As he walked he looked down at the graves and epitaphs beneath him. All of a sudden, he stopped for a second and read aloud an inscription that caught his eye, “ ‘Fate bereaves me of worldly eternity, but sends me to the Goddess.’ Heh, strange that such a being claims to understand destiny.” He looked around the room again, since he was distracted from his exit, and saw the shattered images of heroes and of the first World Tree. Pleased he said, “Their yearning for countless eons of life has not perished. Though they lost agelessness with Nordrassil’s wounding, I will offer it to them again, and how will they be able to refuse?” He walked into the stones he had formed, and they immediately morphed into shadow and mana, disappearing among particles of air. Galthaur too was nowhere to be seen.

While that chamber regained silence in its confines, the luxurious rooms of Tyrande were still and peaceful in the night. With guards at the entrances and outside her locked doors, the High Priestess sat in the dark, awaiting a visitor. The only light that entered that room, through the boughs of trees and beyond the window sill, came from the night’s primary lamp, the moon. The silhouette of her queen sized bed and the frames of her various couches reclined in the calm, while her eyes were tensely strained with expectation. Suddenly, as if from the very rays of the moon, Leones appeared. Sublimely smiling, he slowly descended the stairs of the air without a step. She rose and smiled herself, taking his outstretched hand. They both vanished from that patrolled residence.

[Inquisistor7]

Near the shimmering pool of the the innermost shrine of Elune’s temple they held council with another priestess, whose white embroidered hood was pulled back. Her pink hair flowed, her long ears stood attentive, and her turquoise eyes seemed to light up her thin features. Standing on the immaculate stone floor, Leones began with a strong voice, “Vahlia, have you already informed the public about the tree’s condition?”

Vahlia, as smoothly as she could, replied, “We have made it known that an important ceremony will be held, and that any disturbances could have dire consequences. We requested that people living near the tree go elsewhere temporarily.”

Tyrande, confident with ancient pride, said, “It won’t be long now until my escape is discovered.”

“Correct,” Leones sternly stated, “and hopefully we will be able to convince people to leave by means of fear.”

Concerned, Vahlia said, “Is that really the right way? Why not just use a less deceitful approach?”

As if speaking to a younger sister, Tyrande said, “After what happened in the capitol not many trust us. With that in mind, the people hate me more than you and the other priestesses, so if you and your comrades pretend to seek my punishment then people will follow your words.”

Vahlia pleaded, her robed arms waving around, “How noble is that? Are not some means beneath us?”

“What is done according to the Goddess,” Whisperwind replied, “is just.”

“But what of yourself? We have all been worried that your disgrace will never end. And what honor can we have when our true leader is smothered with odious hatred?”

“Sacrifice for Elune is not punishment, but glory. The Goddess herself, in weeks past, has assured me of what will happen.” All her confidence had returned; doubt had been suppressed by the Goddess’s grace.

“But what of the rest of us? Not all have been so fortunate as to directly hear her words.”

Leones’s face seemed to grow more and more troubled. Just as when a lion, standing in the plain, hears the hiss of snake and turns his mighty head and prepares his great jaws for a roar, so too did he appear. Yet, Leones let forth only these words, “I cannot stay, caution calls me,” he said abruptly, and with a dim flash was gone.

Shocked, the two women looked at each other and around the room with amazed eyes. All they noticed though, was that the shadows were particularly long for an instant, and then had returned to normal.

Leones, his tall helm brazenly glowing, walked among the wreckage below the earth. At the shattered altar he saw his comrade looking about her, like a hunter searching for prey.

“You called? and what did you do anyway?” He asked with a condescending tone.

Eira turned, shifting her eyes, apparently straining her senses.

He continued, “You look rather silly. I thought this was important. Why aren’t you looking for our adversary?”

She relaxed her expression and let out a sigh, and said, “I can’t even figure out where he went. I’ve been following him, but he always eludes me. He must’ve done this.” she waved a hand at all the ruin around her, “Anyway, I thought I’d let you know.”

“So you’re telling me he’s in the city, and-” Realizing the total gravity of the situation he turned around, cursing under his breath, and in a blink of an eye he was elsewhere.

“Where are you now you snake? I’ll find you.” she said to herself, leaning on her spear. Closing her eyes, she tried to identify the aura of his spirit. Nothing.

“I might as well go join him” she thought, and with a flicker of flame she too was no longer in the temple.

The giant serpentine seal glowed on the bark of Teldrassil, wrapping it with weird markings, and coiling around itself on the eastern side of the tree. Leones stood on the ground near that section of trunk, flanked by huge roots. The grass was still green, and through the high leaves the lights of the night streamed. His eyes, shades of blue and green and other tones, discerned easily the rising arches of the nearby temple, which had been the Druid’s stronghold. Its primary tower, whose steeple stretched for the clouds, was overshadowed by Teldrassil. He drew his golden colored sword and produced his round shield, which radiated with an image of the crescent moon.

Next to him Eira, youthful and equipped with brilliant arms, appeared, light forming briefly on the ground in a bright circle.

“I don’t think he will come here.” She said plainly.

“So you only came here to see me? You haven’t done that for a while.” He replied, still in battle stance.

“He is probably somewhere else in this twilight city.”

“I have my orders to guard this hunk of idolatry. Why don’t you fulfill your duty and peruse our foe? I am no longer interested in seeing you.”

For a second her fair face was perturbed, but she turned around said, “Fine.” Leones suddenly found himself alone, but he was already occupied with thoughts of the battle that might come.

“You know, she’s never had good sense. But then again, who sends beings such as you against me?”

Leones hastily turned his head and reached out with his senses, trying to locate whence the voice came. Its echo still resounded in his ears.

“Don’t fret, I only came here for the view. It is so pleasing to see the wide expanses of Darnassus, to imagine what they will be like when bereft of the Moon’s presence.”

Looking up, he discerned Galthaur on a high branch, and immediately the former leapt up to encounter the latter. As soon as he landed on that limb, however, his feet burned and the bark sparked with profound flames of dark blue. The force hurled him off the tree, but as he fell, he righted himself and landed in a genuflection.

Galthaur merely said, “Oh well, I guess I shouldn’t let Eira down. I mean, I’d hate to strip her of a job.”

Pierced with pain, Leones strained his eyes, but it helped him not, for Galthaur was already one with the shadows that flowed out from Teldrassil over the whole city.

[Bullroarer]

Very well written chapter and your ideas of a night elf's thinking is pretty good. I will write a more detailed analysis when I find time.

[Flak]

I have to say, this is really good. I really liked the

From the ceiling, just as when a drop of water hurls itself downwards, the shadows collected and fell towards the center of the room.

Exquisite.

I also liked the interactions in the second post, and how Galthaur acts in the first post (it's classic).

As for the mistakes, well, we all make them. Keep it up, Inq-sensei!

[Inquisistor7]

Thanks for the kind words. I am mad at myself for missing a grammatical mistake or two, but I'll just have to be more thorough in the future. Anyway, I put quite a bit of time into this chapter, and it took a while to get things working well. Man, this was the second straight chapter of character development; Ares might start getting mad me ;). Seriously though, I have no idea when the next chapter will be ready, but since I can't wrestle for the next few days (a slight injury), I would suspect that it will be ready sooner rather than later, but I'm not going to make any promises.

[Bullroarer]

Cool, I wrestle too, which type, Greco Roman, Freestyle, submission or scholastic.

[Inquisistor7]

Scholastic (that is, I wrestle for my high school). I've wrestled for like 8 years, but I am not very good. Also, the most physcially tough thing I do is wrestling, and a wrestling match uses up a lot of energy. Anyway, what type of wreslter are you?

[Bullroarer]

I also wrestle for my school, pretty new to the sport compared to you, it eats up most of my time. I hope to go into Greco afterwards. I'm pretty good at a headlock break down, but my shot is kind of slow.

[Inquisistor7]

Out of curiousity, waht weight class are you? (I am a mere 130 pounds) Anyway, wrestling is about hard work if anything else. I wish you the best of luck with that.

Anyway, now for business.

[Inquisistor7]

Chapter XV: Non Pro Causa Pacis [Not for the Cause of Peace]

The primary camp of the Elven army was overflowing with strength. Not only were many soldiers inside the thin walls, but even more were camped outside in a semicircle of hundreds of tents. The newest additions to the base, which, from a distance, had the look of forest, were several tall chimaera roosts. Those rising totems of oak, when seen against the background of ancient trees, appeared to be artificial and dead. Nevertheless, a large amount of aerial units were nested throughout the base while others patrolled the air. Staghelm had decided to inspect the army personally, and at that time he was among the tents. By then the sun had finished its initial climb up the rampart of the sky, and day was well under way.

Coming out of a tent, surrounded by officers, Staghelm was confronted by a familiar face.

“Retridus I thought I told you to-”

“I am all right sir,” he said trying to suppress the look of urgency in his face, “but more importantly, there appear to be Orc warriors approaching the base!”

Grimly, as the Sentinels and druids around him whispered, he asked, “How many?”

“Well three sir, but-”

“Three?” Staghelm suddenly looked more annoyed than troubled.

“They are unarmed and one carries a white flag.”

”This is obviously a trick. Though,” he laughed a little, “I don’t think Orcs are that smart. Let’s go meet these, well I guess you’d call them ‘ambassadors.’ Heh, I will go myself. You two,” he gestured at a couple of archers, “go inform General Umiana and our dear ally Thalnos of the situation. Retridus, come with me. The rest of you go rouse, oh, fifty soldiers to come with us.”

Staghelm, his staff restored and in his hands, dashed off as confident as ever.

A short time later, some thirty Sentinels and an assortment of other warriors stood behind Retridus and Staghelm. They stood a couple hundred feet away, and were joined by Umiana who had decided to come herself while Thalnos decided to watch over the base. The sun had already passed its high point, and dew was no longer on the grass, whose green color was faded. From where the three generals stood some forests could be seen far away, but their sight was focussed upon the three Orcs coming up to them, all of whom rode on wolves as black as night. The one clad in robes was in the middle. The other two wore large helms that hid their faces with shade and their bodies were naked of any weapon.

“This is some sort of trick,” Staghelm said to his companions.

Umiana, her arms crossed, stated coldly, “We should just kill them and attack their base. Those brutes deserve no mercy.”

Smiling with bravado Staghelm replied, “I agree.”

“As do I,” Retridus said as the Orcs came ever closer, “and we have plenty of resources to keep our forces afloat.”

Their dogs came to growling stop and the Orcs dismounted. Pulling back his hood and revealing his old head, Ker’Tal stepped forward, taking the flag from the warrior on his left.

“I see that not a few of you have come out to meet us. I am glad to see that a love of peace draws so many out.”

Staghelm said blankly, “Come now, we all know you are here just to deceive us and gain some advantage. We all know how bloodthirsty you Orcs are. Now get out of here before we send you to your ancestors.”

“No, I am here,” and his eyes shiftily looked at the two raiders around him, “to join you.”

Turning around and with all the strength left in his old bones jumping backwards towards the Elves, lightning shot out from his right hand at one of the Orcs. While he writhed with pain, the bolt leapt onto the outer two wolves, whose howls of pain bemoaned their burning fur. The other Orc was about to attack when that sage said to him, throwing the flag to the ground in front of him, “Get out of here before I strike you down. Go tell that fool Oradun what has happened!”

With gnashing teeth the remaining Horde warrior was about to take up his thunderstruck comrade when he looked at Ker’Tal’s awful gaze. Those merciless eyes caused him to forsake his comrade ran away by foot. The thunderstruck wolves gathered enough strength to limp away, while the third one stood there motionless.

The Elven generals, shocked, but still suspicious, ordered that he be imprisoned for questioning, along with the other Orc, who was to receive healing so that he could be interrogated. Ker’Tal did not resist, but gladly gave himself up, requesting only that his wolf not be harmed. Not caring, the Elves fulfilled that request, seeing it as trivial. Then the Elven generals had him bound with ropes and guards placed upon him. With haste he was brought into the camp, and word of what had happened caused a din of speculation to rise in the Night Elf camp.

***

The four commanders stood in front of the bound shaman, who was flanked by a pair of spear wielding Sentinels, whose pointed weapons were ready for action. There was no table, no windows, and there was only one door. Staghelm first asked, “Do you speak in the common tongue?”

The Far Seer nodded.

Without any other preliminaries Staghelm continued, “So what exactly are you planning to do? what is your plan? We know this is some sort of trap”

Looking very old and very tired, Ker’Tal replied sorrowfully, “I am the one who was trapped! I have served my people for many years, and never have I encountered a commander of such recklessness. He takes up brash strategies that throw our men, and our nation’s safety, close, nay, into the fire! This bitter war has weakened the spirits of our soldiers, who are whipped on by his autocratic dictums. The Warchief granted him absolute control of this campaign, and the men are cruelly punished for any infractions.

“They yearn for home. War against you has been difficult, but his madness has sullied their resolve, and now, in the face of your might, he becomes more irrational. The soldiers, who are at the edge of despair, have blamed the authorities for what they go through. I do not know if your soldiers have been so disposed, but ours are at their limit! Any more setbacks will push them to revolt, and not even Oradun, that vile being, can restrain them all. Oh yes, my dear people can be saved only by flight back to their ancient shrines.”

The Elves all likely found that explanation bizarre and the product of an unstable mind. Orcs tire of war? Never. Thalnos however, replied to what seemed foolish, considering the zealous love of war that the Orcs hold, “How does it follow that betrayal can save your men from war? Will not that general use it to fuel indignation?”

“Alas! if only their bloodlust could be rekindled! but, you see, I am the one to whom they looked for guidance and wisdom. There are many there whom I have left who know exactly what to say to encourage the rest to riot. You have no need to worry, for it is only a matter of time before all the Orcs flee Darkshore. I will say no more.”

“Well,” Staghelm said to his colleagues, careful to use Elvish, “if he will say no more, then what of the raider we captured?”

“I doubt that he can speak anything other than the Orc tongue, besides, he is being treated by some of our healers and won’t be brought in for a little while,” Thalnos said in his native language, “and it will take a while to get a translator.”

Offering a suggestion, Retridus said in the Elven tongue, “We could just torture this one. He might be lying. His words do not fit the nature of the Orcs.”

Umiana replied in turn, using the same tongue as the others, “We should wait for what our scouts report about the Orcs’ status. If they are truly in chaos, then we should strike. As for this one we should keep him alive and see if we can get the truth out of him.”

Staghelm assented and said, “We will question you more later,” and all the Elves exited the room.

[Inquisistor7]

***

Ker’Tal, having been questioned several times over the hours and having given the same answers, uncomfortably sat in an empty room inside one of the wooden lodges that dotted Thalnos’s base. He thought to himself, “I wonder, the riots in the base should’ve happened by now. That and what I have said should’ve convinced them. What are they waiting for?” He did not know it, but Thalnos had wisely been holding his colleagues back from action.

Outside the room that druid reiterated, “Yes I am aware that the reports say the Orcs are in a state of pandemonium but we must not attack. It is definitely a trap.”

“I am no longer of that mind. The Orcs are obviously weak at the moment, and we have the advantage no matter what. As long as we use every soldier victory is assured.”

He replied to Staghelm, “Never underestimate an opponent...”

Deeply insulted he replied, “You think I’d underestimate them after loosing so many good warriors to their fiendish blades!” He paused for a second and said, “Anyway, I am leaving you in charge of the base’s defense. The rest of us shall lead the army out to attack. I am tired of listening to your sanctimonious suggestions.”

Only some anger clouded Thalnos’s mind, but it did not show, “Sir, I have done nothing to deserve such a relegation.”

“I am in charge here. You’ve been questioning my every move, and I’m tired of it. Besides, you thought it all right to stay here when we captured these Orcs, so why not stay now?”

Seeing the rage growing in Thalnos’s eyes, Umiana butted in, leaning against the corridor wall, “Look, we can’t pass up this opportunity. Come on, we have even heard that the Orcs are getting into brawls with those loyal to that commander this shaman keeps talking about. It seems that this guy is telling some truth about the whole situation.”

“Again, it might be a trap” Thalnos calmly said.

Retridus, standing next to his commander said, “And go to all this trouble? What can they gain? We outnumber them. The advantage is ours in any situation. It doesn’t matter if this guy is lying- he sounds like he’s cracked to me- but what is important is for us to stop stressing over this worthless idiot and get moving. Also, if they use tactics like that shaman presents logic, then the Orcs are dumber than I thought.”

Thalnos was about to reply when he noticed Staghelm and Umiana nod in agreement to what was said. He began to lose hope.

The Arch Druid then said, “Indeed, we should take this opportunity.” He looked at Thalnos and said ruefully, “Do not worry, I am sure you will be most busy here. Come, we have a war to win.”

The others then left him in that echoing corridor.

“What a change of mind,” Thalnos thought, “Only hours ago he agreed with me, and all of sudden they leap upon this false chance of victory. What has come upon their hearts. That Orc, his speech was clearly deceitful, but if they mean to draw us into battle then why is here here?”

“I suppose I might as well get things ready.” he said aloud.

After a short time almost the entire base was emptied, and the army had begun its march, and only a score of soldiers remained, and they were dispersed throughout the whole place. The generals, except Thalnos who was essentially ignored, had decided to use as many warriors and beasts as they could muster so that the only possibility would be victory. Thalnos, on the other hand, decided to try his luck at interrogation once again after making sure the rest of the base was as secure as possible.

On the floor above where Ker’Tal sat the raider was laying on a bed bound in ropes. Shelves lined the walls, holding various potions and tools of the healing arts. Noticing he was alone, he bent his head towards his chest, where a length of rope squeezed him. Ripping through it with tusk, he tore it away and eventually freed himself.

The guard, however, was not deaf and her well trained senses caused her to rush into the room, assuming the worst. Her eyes, though, found no target for her spear. Looking around the room she saw no one. She never stood much of a chance, for, out of thin air, his grasp snapped her neck and sent her to the afterlife. He gathered some healing potions from the walls and took up her spear. “It’s no sword, but I’ll manage” he said aloud, smiling over the corpse.

A few moments later, a guard opened the door to Ker’Tal’s room, and with her entrance the wind walked in as well. She brought a bowl a food, but she merely threw it on the ground and left, slamming the door behind her.

“She probably is not too fond of Orcs” Ker’Tal said, as if there were someone else there.

At length Thalnos arrived at the nondescript lodge. Walking through its oaken doors, he noticed that everything seemed in order. Then again, the base was so understaffed because of Staghelm’s lust for warriors that he couldn’t be too sure. Down the stark corridor with its creaking floor boards, his autumn raiment and his dark hair composed, he met with the vigilant guards, who knew his purpose and entered the prisoner’s room along with him. His green eyes saw the same aged shaman, and his relatively round face remained expressionless.

“I presume you know why I am here. Now we are going to-”

“Tell me druid, where are your friends?”

The Sentinels took their regular positions, not taking the trouble to examine the ropes thoroughly. After all, nothing had happened to them all day.

Thalnos cocked his head a little and replied, “Well they have taken the field-” he realized his folly too late.

“Then fortune is with us.” Came an unknown voice. And even as Thalnos turned to confront the shifting silhouettes of light that moved from the corners of the room a tall Orc appeared behind the bound Far Seer, who threw himself to the ground, shedding his already cut ropes in the process. The first of the shocked guards found a spear splitting her sight- it had been thrust right between her eyes. The other guard, even as she moved to attack the Orc warrior, was suddenly wrapped by the snakes of electricity that streaked and thundered from the Far Seer’s hand. She joined her comrade in the spirit world, her blood and organs boiled with lightning.

Meanwhile, Thalnos was approaching death’s door. He had turned right into the leap of two formerly invisible wolves. The first of whom got beyond his outstretched arms and clamped his neck with its fierce maw while its claws gripped and tore his clothes and flesh. The other seized his thigh with a tackling vice of fangs. Thalnos attempted to wrestle them off, or perhaps he was attempting to unleash a spell, though when confronted by those messengers of death maybe even his skill was undone with frenzied fear.

The dogs, with a dreadful speed that was like an eternity to Thalnos, ripped away their jaws, and his blood gushed forth, the floodgates of his soul were opened, and his spirit left his battle weary frame. As befits one such as he, his last thoughts were a prayer for his people, calling upon the mercy of and love of Elune. “Oh Goddess, forgive my failure, and please, save your dear followers.” What sort of man can think of praises instead of curses in such a situation?

Getting off the ground Ker’Tal said, “Well, it looks like we timed things just right, Oradun.”

“We had best hurry though, luck won’t always be with us,” Oradun replied rubbing his shaved chin.

“And time tempered wisdom and skill had nothing to do with it?”

“Heh, I suppose it had something to do with it, though I just wish I hadn’t had to change my appearance.”

“It’s all part of diplomacy; we couldn’t have these Elves recognizing you,” Ker’Tal said with a grin that changed into an earnest expression, “Now let us go and make sure that the Elves really don’t attack our comrades!”

[Flak]

As far as grammatical and spelling errors, the first post had a few and the second none to my sight, but those are meaningless at this stage in writing.

As for the rest, I really like it. And the title is so fitting. I have to agree with Staghelm though, Orcs aren't supposed to be that smart... :y-wink2:

I like how stereotypes played out in this, the whole 'orcs are blood thirsty morons', and how that actually had an affect. ^^ I'm finding your themes!

Keep it up, Mr. Inquisitor!

[Bullroarer]

You don't go in depth into the environment. Exactly how do the night elves look when they here this. Is there a sigh of relief amongst all. Is there one idiot among the elves who speaks out. You also do well in the orcish stereotypes. Go into how the orcs feel with more than just dialogue.

[Inquisistor7]

Ah! now this is what I am talking about! Bull, I must offer many thanks, and I will take your words to heart. I will do what I can to improve things.

Flak: Thanks. Also, who says the Orcs in general are smart? maybe they are just lucky. I mean, the Elves initially knew that there as some sort of trap, but they just didn't use enough wisdom.

We'll see how things turn out. The Elven generals aren't bad at tactics: Umiana was doing well against Oradun's army, and Staghelm's maneuvers on the field are solid. The Orc army, like a wolf, can elude the bear for a while, can cause it much pain, but how long until the bear graps it in its deadly jaws?

[Bullroarer]

Any man can beat any other man on any Given Sunday.

If the wolf is lucky. The bear may die of the inflicted wounds overtime and crumble

[Flak]

As I said to Inq on AIM, the bear dies of blood loss. They end up dying in eachother's arms. So full of hate and mutual double suicide, yet full of respect for the one who could take them down.

You care for those you hate. You care if they walk into the room. Hatred is a strong emotion, equal to love. And it's very similar.

[Inquisistor7]

Hatred equal to love? Well, I can't say that I believe that. Hatred and love do a play an important part in this stroy, but another important part is the idea of authority. I shouldn't say too much, though, I don't want to give things away.

[Flak]

Possibly not in their influence in your story, but in terms of their effects on the human mind, they are equal. Pure hatred and true love, that is.

[Inquisistor7]

Possibly not in their influence in your story, but in terms of their effects on the human mind, they are equal. Pure hatred and true love, that is.

Well, I don't know if I believe that. In a spiritual sense hatred and love have verty differnt effects on a person. As far as the mind is concerned, well, the mind and the spirit are related, no? Then again, I am not sure that you believe in a soul.

Anyway, here is the next chapter. It is rather long, weighing in at about six and half pages on my word processor, so it might take a while to slog through.

[Inquisistor7]

Chapter XVI: Furva Nebula Ascendat [A Black Cloud Rises]

The base of fallen Thalnos spread itself out from a central grove, which was surrounded by a group of massive sentient trees. Four entrances, each the end of a road, were defended by sturdy wooden gates, which at the time were opened up to the sea of tents that was about the base. Trees abounded within the walls, and the lighting was in many parts dimmed to the Elves’ liking. Bereft of occupants, who had rushed to war, the various workshops and shrines had only themselves for company. A gold mine, flanked on three sides by moon wells and various buildings, was the site with the most activity: wisps collecting resources from its gnarled rocks.

The soldiers of the base, which held the lion’s share of the Night Elves’ supplies and shelter, stood near two ancient protectors at the southern entrance. A ten foot wall surrounded the buildings of the Elven base; its foundation was of large stones, and upon those gray rocks towers of thick wood and planks of oak intertwined to form battlements. At its southern gate, the strong timber doors thrown open, fifteen Sentinels were gazing out into the distance, perhaps yearning for battle. Most of those warriors bore bows, though some brandished glaives, but their inexperience in battle made their skill suspect. Every other capable Elf, and in such a military base those are most common, had been taken to the field. Indeed, even merchants had taken up arms, gathering at the fringes of the battalions. Such was the zeal they gained at the news of the Orcs’ riots.

As the wind left that house of murder and entered the various shops that lay across the street, the robed Far Seer checked the various points of that bloodied residence. The walls were a dull brown, and the doors creaked as he went from room to room. The small windows inadequately lit the place, and after a few moments, in a particularly dark room he found his temporary goal. A saddle, unexamined by the Sentinels, was heedlessly thrown on the ground, and just a few feet away a large cage shook, a massive wolf hurtling itself against the door. He came to the bars and the dog stopped its rage and patiently panted as he released the lock. He patted its massive head and led it out, attaching the saddle. When he exited the house, Oradun stood before him, a bag hanging from his hand.

“Got everything?” Ker’Tal asked.

The smirking reply was “All I need are some of your pets.”

***

A handful of those at the gate remembered their duty, which was to patrol, and they proceeded up the central road towards the tall ancients. As they walked down the dirt path under silvan shade they passed the arching purple wood of the house of the injured. One of the three archers noticed the wind swept entrance, and with serious eyes motioned for the others to follow. A glaive bearing Sentinel led the way with a spear-woman slightly to the side and three archers in the rear, who had taken out long daggers because of the oncoming corridors. After walking fifteen feet into the small lobby the doors slammed shut, two snarls rasping above the floor.

Their heads turned immediately, but within a few seconds the growling disappeared in a duo of small smoke clouds. The summoned wolves had dispelled with time. Distracted they had even less chance of noticing the invisible Orc. The spear, not much of a substitute for a katana, still was worthy enough to bring down the crowded Sentinels. For Oradun, with ferocious speed, became a small tornado, ripping through the air in crooked lines, and attacked the surprised Elves. They put up their blades, but that quick point pierced the neck of the spear and glaive, and stabbed past the knives, killing each warrior in turn. The Sentinels had enough bravery not to scream, but their low moans lacked the wisdom to alert others to battle.

His disappointed eyes saw that they were all dead. Thinking he might have enough time, he quietly walked down the sleepy halls. A doctor, draped in blue, exited a room, his head bowed with lassitude. He mumbled about being overworked, but that Orc, understanding only that a male Elf stood before him, hurled his spear. It crushed through his gullet and a salient edge appeared on the other side of his head. Before he crumpled to the ground with a wretched gurgle, Oradun arrested his body and silently set it down.

He slowly opened the door, peering in with lusty eyes. He licked his lips with the sight of the unconscious woman. He did not notice the bandage wrapping around her forehead and behind her long ears nor the dressings on her bruised cheeks. No, he only looked from the shoulders down, becoming more and more satisfied as he went down her lithe form. Instead of tight clothes she wore a loose and immaculate gown of white, with her right arm bound in white cloth. He leaned his spear against the doorway, and walked into the dim room, lowering his hands towards the unconscious Sentinel. His ears, however, heard what sounded like a rock slide in the distance and the ground began to slightly quiver beneath him. Oradun reached back for his spear, grabbed it, and moving fleetly forward slew the Elf, her heart cut through. “Too bad I can only have this much fun with you,” he said regretfully. He rushed out of the room, hoping that maybe he would find both another prize and enough time.

For while he was overtaken with base desire, his ally, Ker’Tal, was moving forward with the plan. On the northern side of the center of the base, flanked by trees and elaborately woven buildings of calm colors, that Orc stood prepared to unleash his mighty spell. The great ancients apparently could not discern the threat he posed, their bright eyes blocked by shadow. Then, raising his green arms and speaking words of incantation, he sent the land beneath the sentient trees into a tumult. The ground rent into clogs of grass and the whole grove became engulfed with itself.

Just as when the clouds, moved by the winds of a gathering storm, warp and spin, falling over each other and collecting into a mass of amorphous vapor, so too did the grounds and trees of that area interlock. The great ancients, groaning from their gnarled faces, attempted to pull their thick roots from the moving grounds. Alas, even as one ancient of war brought himself out, the block of land he stood upon thrust up and hurtled him towards the churning center, which itself would grow and collapse in ruin, sending grass and bark either into the ground or the air. The largest of that knowledgeable grove clawed towards the Far Seer with his gray hand, its knotted fingers straining forward. Even as his yellow eyes blazed, the dusty path heaved up and sent him backwards, his branches snapping upon his fallen brethren.

When that spell ended, all six of those vital beings lay in a heap. The ground was once again stable, but upon it a broken mass was now set. Trees and dirt formed misshapen hills, and the proud ancients creaked and twisted themselves, trying to break free from the expanses of their brethren. Moreover, by some well honed skilled, the ground itself had locked around the legs of some of the fallen, preventing the whole group from arising out off of the shattered grove.

The Elven defenders were not blind to the falling forest, but had immediately rushed towards it, marching in a formation akin to that of a sickle moon. Even as they came within arrow shot of their destination a saddled wolf, savagely loyal to its shaman, jumped out from the shadows of one of the empty havens of wood. The whole group, led by an armored Sentinel, who brazenly wielded a sword, came to a sudden stop. As the clusters of leaves and branches were tossed about in the distance, the wolf, black as night, growled, its orange eyes like fiery coals. Just as the leader charged forward to slay it, four Orcs, all alike, entered the crowd of Elves. Chaotically they fearfully turned to confront the enemy.

Those ten warriors hastily tried to unleash their glaives and arrows. A few succeeded, but they hit no mark, for the six archers could not knock their bows before confronted by thrusting spears. Though only two was slain, Oradun’s edge having quickly cut through their hardly armored chests, the others nearly fell to the ground with shock. The wolf jumped at the leader, who put up her sword. Its paws landed on the blade, but it ignored the pain and snapped at her face with its awful maw. Turning her head, she shouted back, having noticed the mirror images, “They’re not all real! They’re-” but even as she said that her throat was punctured by Oradun’s pointed shaft. He raced unopposed from among the neophytes and grabbed the sword from that Elf’s dying hands, the wolf having jumped back.

Finally recovering from the daze of fear, the remaining Sentinels began to put up a fight. They ignored the false Orcs and rushed towards the real one. The wolf growled at the oncoming Elves, but he stopped in his tracks when he came next to Oradun. With wild eyes he quickly scaled the large wolf, flashing his long sword in the air. Arrows were about to be loosed when, with all the effort he could muster, the pair disappeared. Again, the Elves were dumbfounded, looking at the drawn faces of their comrades, seeking some sort of guidance or order. What they found was that the Orc and wolf were in their midst, revealing themselves in a wicked swing that caught an unaware Elf below the chin, sending forth a river of blood from her fair neck. Yet the Elves scattered and formed into a crescent to the wolf’s right. As the wolf turned to charge and as Oradun readied his weapon arrows whistled into the air.

One hit him at his right shoulder; two, aimed for his chest, were blocked with his slanted sword, and the final one nicked his left biceps. Then glaives, three in number, went flying through the wind. The wolf moved with enough speed to dodge the first, leaping slightly into the air, allowing the spinning blade to dash itself against the dusty path. Of the next two one was blocked by Oradun’s weakened swing, and the final one collided just next to Oradun’s leg, the dark hound letting loose a deep howl of pain as the glaive stuck itself beyond fur and into flesh.

Confident, the Elves broke from formation to surround the bloodied enemy. As they prepared their weapons, some drawing dreadful daggers for close quarters, Oradun used his sword to prick out the projectiles from his wretched skin and from the dog’s flea ridden flesh. With a shaking hand he reached into the pack while the Elves proudly took their time with haughty grins. “The thrill of the hunt,” they must have thought, “is similar to this”. Shattering their expectations of victory a scroll appeared in Oradun’s hand, and with demonic speed it vanished in a terrible spray of light that mended the wounds of the rider and his beast. Then the wolf darted to the right, all its horrible fur striking through the air like a snake attacking from the shade.

[Inquisistor7]

Jaws clamped down on a desperate Elf who could not even raise a shriek. With his next leap the wolf charged at an archer, whose dagger was knocked away by a sword. Nipping at the Sentinel’s exposed belly, the dog waited for the deathblow, which came down quick as lightning, jaggedly breaching the Elf’s brain. The others began to form a slight distance away, but that Orc, reached down again, brought up a bottle of azure liquid, and, cutting off the top with his sword, he guzzled the mana potion. With that energy he took to the air in a most horrible jump. Somehow he managed to leap to his right, coming clear off the saddle and stirrups. Even as the Elves gathered into a phalanx of knives, he fell into them. Spinning and cleaving, he wounded every one of them with a tornado of blows. As they recoiled from the torrent, the wolf jumped for their throats.

Every last one of them was killed, except for a lone Elf who was sprawled on her back, grasping at her heavily lacerated thigh, blood flowing between her fingers. She looked up with terror, her hazel eyes quaking with the Orc’s bestial approach. The flickering lights of those orbs shot a look at her dropped knife, which lay a couple feet to her left. He noticed her glance, and with a brief jump and shallow kick, the dagger spun away in the dirt. As the wolf’s bloody muzzle was shoving itself into corpses, a heavy tremor shook the ground, causing the nearby trees and houses to waver. Two walking trees were lumbering forth, scooping up ground with their tendril like hands.

“Fortune is with you,” he thickly said in the common tongue, and with a sadistic motion he ended her life, which passed with a scream and a blade sundering her stomach. She slowly died as the first rain of dirt boulders came crashing down around her.

Riding upon that canine steed Oradun rushed to the center of the base, running around the ruinous hills to the northern side, where his harsh eyes beheld his robed comrade.

“Ancient Protectors come from the south!” he shouted, but Ker’Tal seemed unfazed and with his electrified hand in the air he lashed the branches of those twisted ancients, igniting fires that flowed over their bark with smoldering intensity.

“Is that so,” he finally said as Oradun rode up next to him, “I’m pretty sure they are coming from all exits.” Oradun looked to the north and saw that two other great trees were methodically marching forward.

“So how do we deal with them?”

“Well,” the old one responded, “we should just go on with the plan.”

Looking out over the wooden buildings and the shaking trees, Oradun said, “Time is helping these Elves too much today, but,” and he smiled slightly, “we will at least unleash some hellfire on those who once immortal.”

The eight ancients, their massive frames coming towards the center with all the speed they could exert, came too late to save their brethren. Also by the time they reached the center they had lost sight of the enemy, who had scattered among the shadow and shade of the forested base. They looked upon their ashen brothers, who were raised up on each other. Before dying their limbs had writhed with fiery pain, and now tears of suit fell from their charred and contorted faces.

While that octet lamented fires danced in other sectors of the base. They heard echoes of thunder and saw flashes of flame among the tree clusters. What should they do? Could they, beings of timber and root, extinguish the herds of fire that were beginning to stampede? With long steps they came towards the various fires and attempted to throw dirt upon them, stomping down threw roofs in the process. But by doing so buildings were crushed and all the while new fires came out of nowhere, some in explosions of lightning other rising slowly the tongue of a torch. Frantically they lurched their massive limbs to action, but they could not handle the ever expanding conflagration.

Oradun and Ker’Tal, having made torches from fallen branches, moved among the buildings, working around the base from the south up to the northern area. Breaking threw doors or windows they would light fires within the houses and lodges themselves, allowing flames to spread from furniture and walls up through the entire structure. Moreover, as the ancients moved to quell whatever rising infernos they saw, those Orcs would set fire to trees and anything they encountered, confounding their opponents efforts. Finally they came to the northern gate, its thick doors open, and they ran among the tents. They hastened east and west down around the base, touching their torches on anything that could burn. The wind helped their work, mercilessly whipping the fires in all directions.

Elsewhere, in the rolling fields, a gigantic army marched under a hurricane of winged beasts. The Sentinels and Druids, marching in long lines, were hardly touched by the sun. It was as though they were walking through a dense forest and the canopy was blocking many of the day’s rays. A din of marching steps and screeching hippogryphs sent a roar towards the distant Orc base, which as far as the Elves knew, was consumed in self-destruction. The wide expanses of pale grass and the blue sky seemed fitting weather for victory, or so Staghelm and many others thought. That man walked proudly his head held high, and his eyes pleasingly looked over his newly hopeful soldiers. Among that massive congregation, made up of hundreds of Night Elves, a murmur grew. Some in the rear guard spoke of clouds of smoke that rose from the north.

Those in the air saw, to their horror, the truth: an inferno was feasting upon Thalnos’s base. When word came to Staghelm his eyes widened with an awful epiphany. He realized at that moment that they had walked into another trap. He also feared, correctly, that if they had reached the Orc base they would have found a stronghold abruptly unmoved with dissonance. All the Elven generals seemed to be of a similar mind, and, spread out over the field, they each immediately grabbed a scroll and teleported to the base with almost thirty soldiers apiece. They arrived faced with that gruesome sight: the burnt hulk of trees that sat in the center of the base, smoke rising from the interwoven limbs. The druids among them, using whatever water spells they knew, hastened to quell the flames that were spreading down the lines of houses and through the boughs of collapsing trees. Meanwhile, the ancient protectors stood among the conflagration, trying to avoid the serpentine flames as they slithered near their branches. Staghelm, who happened to arrive on the southern side, saw in the distance a pair of torches shining under the darkened doorway of the base. “There are the fiends!” he shouted, and he motioned for two huntresses to join him, their mounts snarling with rage. Those three rushed down the fire flanked lane, buildings collapsing along the way.

[Inquisistor7]

They saw at the gate a duo of Orcs, one robed and seated upon a snarling wolf, the other holding a crimson sword. They held aloft torches, the red lights illuminating their faces. Seeing their enemy, however, they threw them to the side. Staghelm did not hear it, but the Far Seer said to his ally, “It seems that their army has already started coming. It is only a matter of time before the rest arrive from the field.” As Staghelm came within twenty feet a blue light suddenly arrived around the Horde generals and their dark companion, a scroll resonating in the Far Seer’s hand. Spiraling in arcane letters the glow of the spell sent them away. The dull noise of their exit was overcome by the growling of the inferno. Staghelm came over to the gate, but as he came to the threshold and looked out he saw that another ring of fire had been ignited, this one flowing like waves around the base.

While their general stood mournfully amazed, the rest of the Elven army became frenzied with false news; rumor was that the Orcs were somehow attacking from the rear, as they had those days and days ago in the first battle of Darkshore. On top of that, scouts, riding upon black panthers, reported that the Orc base was now calm, its soldiers now orderly stationed at the walls. So they turned around in a confused and charged back for the base, knocking each other over and causing widespread disarray. As the leaderless army rushed out from under them, the air force lost its nerve, both hoping to save the base and fearing the nets and spears of the Orcs. Running and flying with great speed, the sight of a sea of flame soon came into view, tents catching each other fire, a din, created by the bellows of that furnace, rising up to the sun.

At the enemy town, its thick walls spiked with bone and shafts of wood, circles of bright light returned the Orc generals. They stood there for a moment under the same brilliant sun, a tense silence on the air. Right behind them a fortress rose up to the clouds, and to their right they saw a gold mine with burrows surrounding it, and in the other directions spiked buildings and dusty paths were lain over the landscape. At length Oradun shouted with his head held high, “The Elven homes fall to the ground with flames! and surely those cowardly Sentinels and their weak men flee back to their smoldering tents! The day is ours!”

All the peons, who dutifully were strengthening walls and buildings, and all the trolls who stood on the ramparts of the walls, and all the grunts and foot soldiers who were waiting for battle just inside the tall arch of the base’s mighty gates, all of them together shoved their arms to the sky and shouted with joy.

“It seems that your plan worked,” Oradun commented as his men were coming from the battlements to celebrate, the enemy nowhere in sight and the distant storm of wings having drifted away.

Cunning Ker’Tal replied, “We will have enough time now to ready this place and prepare our troops. Within a couple of weeks the Elves will be again ready for war, their supplies restored and their base rebuilt. Only when we join battle at that time our sacrifices will not be as large as they might have been had we fought today.”

Having said that he entered the nearby fortress, its mighty doors open to him. Oradun smiled and basked in the brute accolades of his men while his ally was already striving to implement the next phase of their strategy.

[Flak]

Well, I don't know if I believe that. In a spiritual sense hatred and love have verty differnt effects on a person. As far as the mind is concerned, well, the mind and the spirit are related, no? Then again, I am not sure that you believe in a soul.

Anyway, here is the next chapter. It is rather long, weighing in at about six and half pages on my word processor, so it might take a while to slog through.

I meant the totality of the effects is equal, not the actual effects. My bad for not making that clear. Basically, what I meant is that they're equally drastic.

Oh, and I'm really busy, so I'll reply to your new chapter tomorrow. Looks promising, though!

[Bullroarer]

I'll write a review tomorrow, but its time for me to eat.

[Inquisistor7]

Maybe if I made this chapters shorter then it would make things easier, after all, as Polonius says in Hamlet, "Brevity is the soul of wit." Hmm, nah. Then again, these chapters keep gettting longer and longer. Well, in cases of indecision I prefer to stick to the status quo; who needs change? ;)

Seriously though, I eagerly await your replies, and please take your time, I don't want you guys going to all sorts of trouble on my account.

[Bullroarer]

This chapter was pretty good, but Oradun kind of did things a bit too easily. Also the pain wrought by the night elves should be more vivid. Plus you should talk more about how Oradun felt as he killed each one of those elves. Make his persona more fleshed out.

[Flak]

*nods fist, the rarely seen sign language for agreeing*

Yeah, Bull's right. Good chapter. Unfortunately, he said everything I could possible say that would be constructive.

[Inquisistor7]

Fair enough. In my defense, however, Oradun is an expert fighter goin against a group of inexperienced warriors. Moreover, he almost lost; they surrounded him, but lost because they were too slow to act. Nevertheless, I understand your point; how in the hell could two heroes destroy an entire base that is defended by eight ancient protectors and some twenty Elven warriors? Maybe they were just lucky...

[Inquisistor7]

Chapter XVII: Peropportunum sed Incognitum Compactum [A Very Convenient but Unknown Agreement]

At a rather soiled table within a boisterous tavern, a pair of dashing Elves sat amongst the rambunctious noise. They relaxed in the corner of the wide chamber, its dim lights benefiting the tarnished wood, which retained little of its original shine. The thin Elves in the center of the room floundered about with alcohol’s warped vision, their feet hindered by the sticky liquids that were splattered on the ground. The only interesting conversations that occured outside of that table were those few discussing the ceremony that was to be held later that night. Otherwise, the chatter, laced with lame pickup lines, was rather inane and unnotbale. That babbling, however, did not seem to affect the two subjects in the corner, who merrily talked as if cherishing a promise that all their troubles would be solved.

“So is there a reason you picked this place for our meeting?” the one with dark hair and plain clothes commented as he moved his drink around in his mug.

“You picked last time, and if I recall correctly it was some ill-managed place where we waited over an hour just for water!”

His crimson clad comrade replied, “Well at least their the drinks were good. This ‘ale’ or whatever it’s called, tastes awful. You’d think that with centuries of practice the peoples of this world could make a good brew.”

“Now Parcus, no need to bring gloom in here. And by the way, it seems that these particular people have not spent much time on developing clothing.”

“Their garments cover about as well as this drink soothes my tongue!”

“So you are in a good mood today? Well,” he smiled with sarcasm, “don’t go too crazy; you have your duties to attend to and a reputation to maintain.”

With a small chuckle Parcus put down his drink and said with intellectual verve, “Well we would be done here by now if you hadn’t decided to add your little duty to our mission.”

“But it is all working out is it not?”

“As if it could be any other way,” and the disguised Parcus leaned back in his chair and relaxed.

The other Elf looked out into the throng with his hazel hidden eyes and his true visage concealed with dark hair. Quickly disappointed he said, “Perhaps we should’ve gone somewhere higher class. The girls here look about as deep as their ears are long.”

“Oh that profound?” Parcus quipped.

“There you go again, Parcus. Don’t loose all your seriousness on me,” but Galthaur then proceeded with a slightly more grave manner, “anyway, their sharp lobes are not their only poor quality. Why look at that one,” he gestured with his purple hand at a particular female whose rosy face bobbed and rose with her dancing body. “Why, she looks like a waste of a coin. I can hardly discern anything attractive about a creature who debases herself so indiscriminately.”

Warmly smiling his brother said, “Thaur, has that ever stopped you before?”

“Look at you tonight! I haven’t seen you this playful since I swapped your cup of ambrosia for something more potent.”

“Ambrosia, now there is a good drink...”

Both of them let out sighs of fond recollection. There in the dim bar they were briefly lost in reverie, memories of heaven’s luxuries returning. A pain, however, resurrected in Galthaur’s heart. In his mind, where a scene of celestial bounty shined, the faces of the nearly inseparable sisters- his hatred of one of them- boiled over the feast of the blessed. His eyes were drawn again to the crowd.

“Parcus,” he said with a sharp tongue, “these females might also be more attractive if their Breeder were not so suspect. As it stands, they remind me too much of that woman.”

“I thought you told me not to be too somber in here? Nevertheless, don’t forget why we are on this battle torn globe. Do you not think the spell in these hands,” and he held up his hands which for a brief second shined with emerald markings, “makes Elune’s fate the most painful? We will put her in her place.”

Galthaur’s eyes rested on his brother’s hands, and the meaning of those faded lights blazed sorrowfully in his memory. He took a deep drink and looked up with a chuckle.

“I see you again return to our assignment. I can’t take you anywhere. What can I do to crack your resolve?”

Exhaling profoundly he replied, “Fear not, your continence has brought me joy despite the creaking floor and the vomit stained air. I believe, however, that it would now be wise for me to get back to our mission.”

“Fine, fine, go back to your drudgery,” he said waiving him away.

Rising Parcus spoke the following words, “Thaur, don’t forget what I told you earlier: they intend to unleash part of their plan tonight. I know you won’t miss this opportunity to balance things.”

“It will be a great show I am sure. Now, heaven forbid I hold you longer. Take care.” Even as Galthaur made more gestures of exit his brother faded from the drunken sight of the bar.

Deciding that little fun was left, the tempter said to himself, “Well I guess I should get going, though I probably should pay before I go.” He took out a bag that clanged with what could not be more than a score of silver. His increasingly harsh voice then said, “After all, I don’t want these Elves to think that I never gave them anything for all their trouble. Perhaps they can even buy a plot of bloody land with it.” He then cast the bag onto the table, some coins rolling out onto the splinters. As he vanished in a flicker of shadow, those coins settled down and reflected the hardly glowing lights and the debauched congregation.

***

Three hours later, through a thick crowd that was pushed back by a small army of guards, a group of priestesses progressed towards the sickening trunk of that tree. The markings upon it glowed stronger and stronger as they approached, but their reverent march had not caused the strange happenings surrounding that massive plant. The bark would now and again send forth blasts against some who strayed too close, and the buildings surrounding it that had even the slightest degree of divine endowment in their stones would find cracking foundations. In fact, those women, as their procession passed through the gates, saw the splitting rock of the druidic temple, its towers trembling with creaking brick as the tides of the wind took their capricious course.

The round walls held back the tumultuous crowds, whose shouts rattled the now locked gates. The temple’s garrison was drained out of the hallowed corridors and onto the darkened streets. All those on those grounds were careful to avoid the massive roots which went out beneath the arching temple, since each and every person had heard the stories of Teldrassil’s sudden illness. For though its proud foundation and its sturdy, towering trunk had always been experiencing a fair share of problems, the recent one had been the most visible. Stories and rumors of the tree’s reaction to anything that had been blessed by the goddess- of injured ministers and breaking cornerstones- were spreading. The brand on Teldrassil, its serpentine length wrapping around its boughs, was visibly pulsating and hastily gaining strength, or so it appeared. Furthering their anxiety, the discredited Whisperwind now blew somewhere in the city, undoubtedly- in the people’s mind- crafting some seditious scheme.

Reflecting in deep darkness, his form concealed and shielded from moonlight, Galthaur looked out from his black surroundings. His course of action formulating in his ancient mind.

“The seal seems to be progressing too quickly. At this rate it will sap all of the tree’s energies. It has been succeeding too well I suppose; it is inimical to any and all energy that comes from Elune. On top of that, it is girded against those troublesome spirits who do her dirty work. If, however, I let it go too long it will kill the thing. Perhaps I should decrease its effects; that would make things go more smoothly in the long run. I can’t, after all, allow this place to be populated when we start to truly work, lest a genocide buy us divine punishment. Besides, the seal will inevitably remove any trace of her power from its form in preparation for the final blessing. This whole process, though, would be easier and more subtle if those Elves were capable of creating anything without her power touching it in some way. As things stand now the risks of civilian harm and untimely action on the part of the enemy increase...”

[Inquisistor7]

Hand in hand, arms above their heads, the priestesses stood in a circle. A chant in Elvish climbed up into the air, and a white orb began to coalesce in the center of the robed ring, slowly rising up and up until it was taller than the walls and in the view of the crowd. Their lit up eyes beheld its perfect form and shining hue, which also cast shadowy lines upon Teldrassil’s wide frame. The portentous glow of the seal began to recede, and though those holy women did not see it, the central mark began to fade a little as a dark hand of dusk pressed down upon it. The people outside the thick walls beheld the waning marks on the gnarled roots and a calm of hope began silencing their anxiety. Yet, even while that ritual quietly moved towards its conclusion a terrified din suddenly rose up from the crowd and a fiery arrow broke through the wind towards the immaculate sphere.

Lo! atop the walls, lit up with torches and beams of moon light, Tyrande brazenly stood with her bow in hand. She had sprinted out of the nowhere, running confidently atop the rampart, whose guards were all gathered at the lower levels to quell the herd in case it surged with madness. The multitude’s angry eyes guided their odious insults at the once respected Elf, some flinging the street’s debris up at her, others cursing her as the source of conflict. Indeed, many had come to the conclusion that if it had not been for her mad zeal then war would not have visited their fair city nor would his terrible grip have bloodily dragged so many to death on dark fields over distant shores. Nevertheless she stood there, awaiting the impact of her arrow. The burning shaft shattered the reassuring orb, its light now spreading throughout the whole area in a bright flash.

The guards raised up their spears and shields to hold back the throngs of Elves that wrathfully strove to enter the temple and destroy the hated High Priestess. Even while they tried to maintain order, a demon hunter dropped down from the walkway that sat upon the arching stone above the locked portal. He bore no weapon, but as soon as he struck the ground, the crowd was shocked at the sight. The guards turned their bronze helms and with surprised expressions beheld the purple being behind them. With an emotionless face he shoved his open hands forward and immediately the walls began to shine with blue. Then, moving forward like a barrier of water, a sorcerous barrier came forth and moved just beyond the demon hunter, pushing back those near the walls. It girded itself and became an ethereal shield of azure magic against the riotous multitude. That blue mass mimicked the course of the temple, bending over the giant roots, but where it neared the bark sparks would appear, lightly thundering on the wind.

Unseen, Galthaur’s ebony form leaned up against the high tip of the temple’s steeple. Standing upon a narrow ledge of beige and white stone he looked down. Taking in the situation he thought, “It seems that the seal still has a strong reaction to potent magics. Excellent.” He then departed from that place as a strong wind passed.

The demon hunter jumped up into the air and landed safely next to Tyrande, who was looking back over the tree laden city, its shaded boulevards draining the populace towards the impregnable wall of magic. Tyrande then ran to the torch flanked entrance of one of the temple’s parapets. The hunter, meanwhile, simply threw himself down from that height towards the priestesses, his body changing as he approached the green turf. With a clang he struck the ground, bright armor surrounding his shoulders and a sword secured at his side. Leones looked out from his tall helm and beheld the serious faces of those clerics. His senses, though, drew his attention to the rising tree. “That mark seems weaker, but this ritual,” he thought, “was purely for show...”

Tyrande rushed out the orange light of a stoney exit, quickly coming up to mighty Leones. Hardly tired she said, “Have things gone according to plan?”

In his mind these thoughts passed: “Why is the seal weakening? The ceremony was merely meant to make it look like the priestesses were mending it. What is going on here. Still, we should be able execute the rest of the strategy. As long they are convincing then within a short time the city will be ready for battle.” Still assured of himself, he addressed those in front of him, Vahlia and the loyal Whisperwind at the forefront, “As far as I can tell, some devilry has eaten away at the spell that binds Teldrassil, and I am not sure if it will create any problems for us. Nevertheless, we should continue with the plan.”

Confounded, the crowd raged, but they could not penetrate the barricade of magic, nor could the guards break through, their minds thunderstruck by the train of events. Overtime the people began to realize the futility of the whole situation, and they gradually receded, varying packs of Elves departing the scene. Across the white stones of the ground and through the streets, flanked with trees and placid halls, that unruly congregation was diffused as the moon hovered in the heavens. Despite that, as each group and individual returned home, they all commented to each other how the seditious acts of that woman and her fell partner surely were just another sign of the worsening times.

While the multitude retired, the guards collected themselves outside of the impenetrable gate of mana. Without any notable leader they stood there wondering what to do, and how to act. Some decided to inform the Sentinel army, which had officers stationed within the city, and they soon rushed off. The remainder gathered the wisdom to marshal each other to take up defensive positions while they waited for reinforcements. Those soldiers, as they took up positions around the glistening barrier, could hear shouts of pain and explosions of strife, as if talks of negotiation had broken down into bedlam.

The primary gate of the temple, its oak and metal mirky in the haze of night, suddenly blew open. A flock of robed women, led by a silver hooded damsel, were running from a wounded demon hunter, who ceased clutching a wounded arm long enough to hurl fiery blasts towards them. Those in the rear turned around and, invoking the goddess, raised shimmering shield whose ethereal expanse shook with the impact of the fireballs. The others, most of whom carried wounded upon their shoulders, hastened through the blue shield, while their leader turned around to aid those who were holding back the enemy.

“Remain strong for just a little longer!” she shouted to those before her, and she herself took up the spell that was woven in the doorway. Having secured it, she wearily said, “I’ll hold them-” but even as they were pulling themselves away their shocked faces noticed the whizzing arrow that collided with their own field of magic. That missile, its head shining with light and its length encompassed with flame, did not bounce off but stuck in the waves of mana. They then saw Tyrande standing there with her fist clenched and power flowing out around her, as if all her strength was passing into the arrow.

One among those still remaining at the side of their leader said, “Vahlia we will-”

But she cut her off with these bold words, “It doesn’t matter if I escape. You must leave and do what has to be done. You do not have to die for what I can do myself.”

She pushed her hands, pulsating with energy, even harder against the shield. Her power then began to mend the quivering spaces of the spell. Taking this chance, the remaining priestesses fled through the passage and into the midst of the shocked guards, who soon realized that the though the barrier could be escaped it still could not be broken. Terrified and helpless, those congregated away from the gate of the temple beheld the brave Vahlia standing up against Tyrande and her wounded companion. Yet that man no longer seemed concerned with his wound.

That bloody and burned arm began to transform with subtle flames and enveloping darkness. His body heaved with newfound size and his whole form expanded with a sudden seizure. There now stood a tall demon, eyes burning, and with his good arm he targeted the arching gateway, Vahlia still beneath it. She heard the shouts from far away, telling her to flee, but she merely stared at the strong dart that now shifted with new power, its point of force aimed at her. Then an orb of green fire and sable strength blazed from the demon’s hand and sundered the archway.

The guards and the priestesses mournfully saw the jagged stones pile up behind her, and they heard her resonating scream just as it was silenced by the collapsing portal.

[Bullroarer]

A good chapter filled with battle and conflict, but you should go deeper into the spirits of the warriors and express thier fire. Try to make your characters come alive rather than just splatter a can of blood on the story.

[Inquisistor7]

Bull, as always, I appreciate the feedback and will consider it strongly, doing what I can to improve.

By the way, I think I need to make a certain part of chapter 17 clearer. As you know, Galthaur, at the end of the first part of the chapter, throws 20 pieces of silver onto the table as payment. Well, in the Bible, Judas is payed 20 pieces of silver by the priests and pharisees to betray Jesus. So, with that gesture Galthaur is essentially asking the Elves to betray Elune. I know that I cannot expect all of you to know this sort of thing since not all of you are Christian. Pleas realize, taht I put it in there not to parade my religion around but to try and add a deeper meaning to the scene. So please don't take this the wrong way.

[Inquisistor7]

Well, the following chapter is not the most exciting one I've ever put out, but it is necessary. I have done what I can to make this good, but I've probably managed to overlook some things that could've improved it. Nevertheless, here it is. Think of this as my Christmas present to all of you: a nice long installment.

Merry Christmas, happy holidays, etc.

[Inquisistor7]

Chapter XVIII: Pecus Consternat [The Herd Charges]

The city of Darnassus, its long streets and fabulous buildings, froze under the weight of marshal law. Under the command of General Shandris Feathermoon, the nearby Sentinel regiments, recently stationed near the capital at the request of General Feathermoon, had quickly locked down the city. All nonmilitary personnel were confined indoors, and troops were seemingly assigned to every street corner and every doorway. Columns of archers and mounted soldiers patrolled the boulevards, and the early frames of a siege began to rise around the blue shield that encircled the temple. A rather large lodge, a place favored by huntresses, was transformed into an impromptu forward command station (mainly due to its proximity to the temple). Elves were hastily running within those walls: some carrying scout reports, others setting up tables for the general’s staff, and yet others removing various pieces of finery that got in the way.

By the time the walls had been stripped and the whole setting prepared General Feathermoon was entering solemnly. She appeared more unclad than clad, her skin lightly wrapped in some places by brown leather. As she marched forward, her deep blue hair flowing behind, she laconically requested reports from her saluting staff. Not bothering to sit, the general remained standing near her desk, several papers in her hand. “Very good,” she said after looking over the documents, “all forces have taken their assigned positions. I want reports from each company concerning their situation and I want to be updated continuously on the status of the temple.”

“Yes ma’m!” all the officers said, quickly penning orders and organizing similar looking papers.

Moving around the desk and sitting down in a stark chair Shandris thought to herself, “Tyrande, as always I am trusting you. I am grateful, though, for this opportunity to help our people.”

A little earlier the pall of false sadness that had come from the seemingly sorrowful priestesses was intercepted by the rapidly arriving Sentinel forces. Those warriors escorted the priestesses away, and the guards were relieved of their duties and sent to the General’s hall for questioning. The squads of Sentinels carefully positioned themselves, each soldier watching the back of the one in front of her. Those who could see the massive pile of stones that sat where the main gate of the temple once stood now saw a new event. The demon hunter, his body fully healed and his energies apparently restored, came up to the ruin and made arcane gestures which ended with outstretched arms. The rocks all glowed and those on the top rose first along with those nearest to him. Those stones thus blocked the sight of the observers who soon discerned a shift in the alignment of the floating objects. Then, after a whirl of jagged edges, the outline of the portal was visible. Coming together, the pieces fused with mana, and from the ground the beaten gate itself was pulled up with air onto its hinges.

Leones relaxed and returned to his normal form, exhaling deeply with lassitude. “I didn’t think that spell would require so much power, but it is worth it.”

“I’ll say,” a familiar and feminine voice resonated from the close-by entrance to the temple, “I was starting to worry that you had forgotten about me.”

“Heh, I am glad you are all right. But surely you trusted us to keep you safe.”

Vahlia walked more into the light and said with a graceful smile, “Why the very reason I agreed to all of this was because of faith.”

“I would expect nothing less. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have other things to attend to.”

After he left in a blink of hardly perceptible light, she walked back into the temple and reflected in her mind, “I just wish we didn’t have to go through all of this. But things have always worked out in the end. This struggle shouldn’t be any different. But then why do I have all these doubts?” As she walked down the lonely hallway she said meekly, “Elune help me and us all.”

Leones spirited himself away to the temple of Elune, more specifically to the confines of its innermost shrine, which was locked to outsiders out of the wisdom of its caretakers. Standing there at the shore of the holy pool, the mystical torches burning brightly, he was soon joined by two other loyal beings. The first to arrive was robed Draer, after whom came Eira and all her clanging armor. Those two stood behind him on either side, and Leones turned around to address them, only to be cut off.

“So my dear,” Draer tenderly asked, “have you judged this the right time for us to end our own missions and help you with your own.”

“That is what I was going to say,” Leones replied, not disturbed at all.

“Now hold on,” Eira said to him with more than a tinge of annoyance, “do you really need us? Elune did say that you were only to call upon us if necessary. Also, how long will you keep us? We do have another duty besides that of pursuing those enemies.”

“I am well aware of that,” he politely replied, “but I sense that our adversary has already interjected himself into the execution of the plan for this city, so I think your presence and services would be most useful.”

Draer added, “I don’t know about you Eira but I have found my current job sort of pointless. I have not been able to effectively frustrate my target; all I managed to do was get his attention a little. Anyway, I accept this as a very beneficial opportunity.”

“Of course you would,” Eira grudgingly thought, “because you will be nearer to him.”

“Eira,” Leones asked, “do you agree?”

“Very well.” She had managed to stifle her displeasure as well as she could, but her tone was still harsh.

Draer then pleasantly asked, “Now, what do you want us to do?”

***

On guard at the pine doors of the General’s forward base, a pair of Sentinels talked, as if there were no current danger.

“I am telling you, those demon hunters are bad news,” the one on the left said, “this whole incident just proves it.”

The one on the right replied, “I guess you’re right. It also makes sense that she would be with one. I mean, you’ve heard the rumors of how she let the Betrayer free haven’t you? Maybe she’s always been close to them and their demonic powers.”

“Its a good thing that we still have leaders like the General and holy women like the priestesses. They have our best interest in mind.”

“I suppose so, but I would rather be out striking fear into Orcs instead of our own sisters.”

“Yeah, but they know that we are to oppose Whisperwind’s sedition, not to injure the nation’s well-being.”

“You’re prob-”

A loud blast, followed by a second boom, stopped her words in their tracks. For those two soldiers were thunderstruck with the experience of seeing two bright, but brief, explosions of flame rise up in the distance, precipitating the asending of twin columns of smoke. Even as they collected themselves and reported to the General, those soldiers who were in the area of the explosions were responding with great speed.

The buildings which had been struck, two chimaera roosts whose occupants were located overseas, were ablaze. They stood next to each other, and as Sentinels scrambled around the streets to remove civilians from harm, a couple of black demons were spotted. They stood across from each other on a pair of tall trees, whose boughs reached up to the twilit sky. Soon enough the shadowy powers of their spells subsided and all could see that in fact two demon hunters were responsible, their dim faces smirking with pleasure. Then, in a flash of dark flame, they were removed from sight.

A stone’s throw away from the towering fires an apartment, its oak doors covered with the orange light and sulfurous shadow of the flames, surged with shock. Faces appeared in its many windows, and the guards in the lobby, positioned at the main doors, suddenly noticed an onrush of upset citizens.

“There is nothing to worry about!”

“We are doing everything we can to address the situation outside. Please return to your rooms. It is not safe out doors. Hey stop!”

The crowd had quickly come up to the guards, pushing up against them with increasing numbers. Chaotic outcries came from all sides: “This place might be next!” “We have to get out of here!” “What if the flames spread!” “Yeah, and those demons might come for us!”

Those soldiers were able to block the doorway for a time, but the people eventually got past them, pouring into the riotous street. Platoons of soldiers were scrambling around the area, setting up barricades where danger might move. The company commander, noticing the crazed group dispatched a handful of Sentinels to direct them elsewhere. Even as he handled that small crisis, other bands of people began to appear, as the smoke rose up to the stars.

***

[Inquisistor7]

The people of Darnassus, who were already squirming with anxiety at the arrival of the army, were now trembling within their homes. The sudden attack, and those that were to follow, allowed for many to make the connection between the hunters and Whisperwind. These developments thus overwhelmed the people with a strange mix of quaking fear and violent rage. General Feathermoon’s field commanders sent back similar reports, all of which warned of the possibility of civilian deaths and riots. Thus the General gave the order: evacuate the city as soon as possible.

For seven hours new explosions rocked the city, sending up fourteen spires of smoke. Each time the soldiers in the area raced to quench the flames while also removing civilians. The alarm that these attacks created cause many citizens to flee of their own free will. Truly, some residents would, upon hearning the roars of destruction, burst out of their homes, demanding that the soldiers protect their departure. What sort of Sentinel, what sort of person would refuse to help a worried mother, whose children sobbed with terror? What parents would keep their family within the confines of a burning city? If there are such people, they did not dwell in Darnassus, whose white streets, flanked with trees and marvelous marble monuments, swelled with a fleeing populace.

General Feathermoon’s hall was overflowing with status reports, and out of its doorway countless runners and messages streamed. The field commanders themselves had the wisdom to maneuver their soldiers to areas of danger while using their remaining forces to siphon civilians onto the main streets. The orders from the General confirmed this, repositioning a significant number of soldiers to those streets that were thronged with panicked Elves. The attacks never plunged into those rivers of people, but merely struck empty buildings. Nevertheless, they were more than enough to convince the people to flee. For just as when the creatures of the forest, seeing a rising inferno in the distance, will run away by whatever paths they can, often ending up constricted to the broadest and safest ways, so too did those terrible blasts send the populace of Darnassus away.

....There was that, and also, some voice, seemed to subtly urge them to leave...

Now, even though most of the city had been evacuated, with the majority having fled of their own compunction and a minority being escorted by soldiers, the army’s work was not complete. The other military bases and cities of Teldrassil were requested to begin work on new shelters to house those who had fled the danger of the capital. It would have seemed likely that most would have felt great animosity towards the military, but a fear of death and an abhorrence of war prompted them to be thankful for their lives. On top of that, hatred of Whisperwind prompted them to greater trust. Indeed, some Elves, resting in hastily built tents miles from home, closed their eyes with prayers of thanksgiving.

Meanwhile at the forward base of the Elven commander a nondescript officer approached her leader’s desk and said, “General Feathermoon, there is an archer who claims to have been sent from....”

Shandris looked past the officer and saw the warrior in question, who held in her arms a helm encrusted with a crescent of pearl and whose features appeared to be that of a normal archer. “That will be enough,” the General ordered, “send her to my quarters.”

“B-Yes ma’m!”

Shandris got out of her chair and motioned her visitor to follow. The pair walked to a northwestern door and entered. The rest of the room was shocked that the General would be so welcoming to a messenger who seemed no different from the countless others whom had entered that day.

Entering the small chamber, Shandris motioned towards a couple of chairs, and the two women reclined, taking a much needed rest.

The archer began, “I see you recognized me pretty quickly.”

Indicating the helm with her hand Shandris replied, “Well, Leones had told me to watch out for the signal. Anyway, we have managed to evacuate the city. It was about as difficult as we had anticipated. Thankfully, the extra attacks were persuasion enough to get people to leave.”

“Good. What of the other facets of the plan?”

“Some rumors have been circulating about why this is happening, but the priestesses and the military have remained blameless. You, Tyrande, have been condemned at pretty much every turn. Now, tell me, are the Ancients aware of everything.”

“The Goddess and her wards informed them long ago. They are willing to aid us in the next phase of the operation.”

Nodding Shandris said, “That is good to hear. We will have all the necessary materials soon. The official story will be that the magical constructs are for the destruction of the barrier. And the Ancients of course will confirm that using such totems of power are the best way, therefore thoroughly legtimizing the whole affair in the eyes of our soldiers.”

“Excellent. Shandris, I cannot thank you enough. You are taking a large risk.”

“Tyrande, don’t worry. The other generals are more concerned with Staghelm and his workings than of what I do here in Teldrassil. On top of that they trust me completely, and my actions do not betray their faith in Elune.”

“I see. It has been great seeing you. I should leave now.”

“I was hoping to be able to catch up with you more, but it might be even more suspicious if we remained in here for too long. Please take care.”

“You too.”

As Tyrande rose up, Shandris got up and saluted. The High Priestess smiled, returned the salute, and exited.

***

Sitting in an empty restaurant where the candles burned low and the torches were dimming, Parcus and Galthaur talked at a table.

“Seems strange,” Galthaur said, “that things would work out this well for them.”

“Well, it will make defeat all the more bitter for them if victory seems within grasp.”

Chuckling a little he said, “I guess so. On that note, I will leave these particular Elves alone for other quarry.”

“Is that so,” Parcus said holding and looking into an empty glass.

“Now now, I won’t delay your role for too long. In fact, I’d say that it is rapidly approaching.”

“I’d say that you are correct. I fear that I have remained here too long. I can’t help but think that I am missing something about what happened today. Not that it will change the end result. I just don’t like surprises.”

“Parcus, there is a lot you don’t like.”

“Very funny. One thing, though, before I go: this does not count as my turn.”

“I know, I know. You just wanted to meet here to talk about things.”

“Good,” and with that Parcus vanished.

“Heh, we’ll just see if I remember that tomorrow.”

After a little while he got up and walked through the empty room and up to the window. Looking out, he saw the abandoned streets, and he sensed the hundreds of soldiers. “Elune, this city is in your hands, but its greatest treasure is mine.”

Miles away, Elune sat in quiet contemplation, her spirit reaching out to her people and her energies slowly moving towards the capital....

[Flak]

Nice, very nice. I like it. Keep it coming.

[Inquisistor7]

Thanks. I don't know when I will have the next one ready, but it might be pretty soon (and by soon I mean within a week).

By the way, for those who are not aware, Shandris Feathermoon is a Blizzard character. I didn't make her up. I don't like using characters that Blizz has made since I hate to portray them in ways they wouldn't. I realize that this is fan fiction, but as a fan of Warcraft's story I sort of feel uneasy about it. Nevertheless, I have to use such characters because of the nature of the story.

[Inquisistor7]

Merry Christmas! As a gift to the FFF I have prepared another chapter for this week. I hope you all enjoy it. Yes I realize I said that the previous chapter was a gift, but I had nothing better to do besides get this ready. Again, merry Christmas, happy holidays, etc.


Chapter XIX: Abripere Personam [To Remove a Mask]

Elune sat in a quiet meadow with colossal mountains resting in the background. Her eyes were closed and her whole being was bent in meditation. The sunlight reflected off the emerald grass, and the wind gently moved among the placid vegetation. Terra stood in the shade of a lonely tree, keeping vigil for any threats. She realized that she could not handle either Parcus or Galthaur, but at the very least she might be able to give Elune a heads up if anyone of them decided to appear. She was glad that at the meeting in the temple that they had not disclosed everything. After all, Elune and herself knew that Parcus’s eyes had a tendency to be everywhere. Thus, some of the more subtle details were communicated via a sort of spiritual link, akin to the musings of inspiration. Galthaur’s abilities might have allowed him to read even that part of the discussion, but thankfully the Tempter had been busying himself elsewhere.

“She looks so peaceful.”

Startled, Terra’s shaking eyes turned to see the white visage of Parcus standing right next to her.

“If you don’t mind,” he continued, “I’d like you to awaken her. I hate disturbing people when they are in such a prayerful state.”

Recovering her composure she replied, “Well, what is it that you wish to tell her?”

“I don’t like repeating myself. So if I were to tell you and her at different times I might become perturbed. On that note,” he gestured towards Elune.

Terra walked up to the pious Goddess, whose gray eyes opened as her companion touched her shoulder with her immaculate hand. Talking as if she were aware of the previous conversation, Elune got up and said, “So what is it that you want, oh enforcer of the Crown.”

“While I was in Darnassus I suddenly sensed a surging of energy, being directed by some being in this area. It was obvious that it was you.”

Bitterly pleasant she remarked, “Oh, and do you know where it was going?”

“Hmm, I do not know exactly where. It is hard to say. I mean, your power flows all over this planet, linking itself with Night Elves and streaming with the ways of nature.”

“You are awfully suspicious of little old me.”

“I just wanted to let you know that you can’t get too much past me. I don’t want you hurting yourself.”

“Come now, what is the real reason that you are here?”

As if pleased, he stated the following, “I was afraid you would never ask. I came here because of convenience and because what I have said ties into a certain part of my mission here. You see,” in his mind he was wracked with uncertainty about this. It felt like he was almost betraying his brother’s goal of tormenting her. It’s a good thing he didn’t know about this. Nevertheless, he had to do his duty. He reaffirmed his resolve.

“Yes?” Elune inquired impatiently.

Defending himself with a brief laugh he continued, “Of course. Now, your parents have requested that I make an attempt to convince you to return home.”

“I thought I made it clear to you a while a go that I was not going to leave?”

“Just listen for a little while,” he retorted with a serious tone, “I don’t exactly like offering overly generous mercy. The Crown has willed that if you were to return with us that they would joyfully embrace you and place no more penalties upon you.”

“You already know my answer.”

“I do, but I will still make a case. You have no chance of winning, Elune. Face the facts: your powers are not entirely concentrated in your person, the seal on Teldrassil prevents you from destroying that tree, I know about all of your plans, the dragons, everything; and as an example of your inability to stop us, Galthaur has gone been going about the main body of your people unopposed. Not a promising picture. Give it up already. Just let things work out like they are supposed to, otherwise your suffering will be great. Moreover, if you continue to pour your energies and devotion into those people the more pain you will experience when we succeed. So surrender.”

Terra looked at Elune’s unflinching face, whose courageous eyes of gray reflected her spirit’s resolve. “She won’t agree,” that powerful soul contemplated, even as her deeply trusted friend spoke these reaffirming words: “No way.”

“That is as I expected,” came the knowing reply.

“Before you go back to your brooding loneliness and the ignoble company of that snake,” the Goddess rancorously said to Parcus as he turned away, “know why I do this: I see my people as more than pawns to be sacrificed for the king.”

“But my sweet Elune,” he began with sarcasm but quickly became condescendingly grave, “if you aren’t willing to sacrifice any pieces then you can’t win the game.”

And he left them to the fellowship of the capricious winds.

***

The charred tents and the splintered beams of the Elves’ base in Darkshore were almost entirely cleared away. For little over a week hundreds of Sentinels and their comrades labored to create a renewed settlement. A brief memorial service had been held for General Thalnos, whose body had promptly been sent back to Teldrassil for burial. His loss had been deeply mourned by his soldiers, but the other generals had encouraged their troops to not let him die in vain and to quickly continue reconstruction. A significant number of troops were dedicated to the defense of the base’s outskirts, but as reinforcements streamed in they were eventually no longer in the majority. The buildings in Umiana’s base had been stripped of their wood, and the Ancients that had remained there marched under heavy guard to the rising settlement, encountering the other Ancients who were being brought to Staghelm’s new base from other lands.

In one of the Arch Druid’s streets a couple of familiar Sentinels were working to remove the charred trunk of a tree which had fallen to the side of the road.

“Nia, I am getting tired of all of this. What have we accomplished through all of this?”

“I know you are frustrated,” she said to Airula, “but once we join battle with all of our forces how can we lose?”

“I’m glad you are more hopeful now that you have fully healed, but I still have plenty of doubts”

Nia noticed a strange cloud, whose dark color was different from that of its white companions. It portentously passed over the sun, instantly covering the whole area in a a short lived sheet of darkness. “I am not completely certain myself, but we have to fight so why not look towards victory?”

Airula just remained silent and kept staring at the ashen remains of the tree, finding her answer in its destruction.

[Inquisistor7]

Meanwhile, Staghelm was coordinating the formation of his new military town. He had decided that he wasn’t going to take any more chances. He was going to make sure that everything went according to plan. He stood there on the dusty barking out orders, filling the sturdy frames that flanked him with bellowing impatience. He watched as the wisps elevated the long beams and thick walls of a nondescript hall. He saw them form a small square room when his mind flashed with remorse....

Thalnos lying in blood.

The scorched walls collapsing around the corpse.

All his own...

“Hurry up with that building! We can’t get off schedule!” Staghelm heard Retridus’s shout in the distance, ripping him away from those thoughts. The wisps rapidly scurried to fulfill his orders. His guilty eyes searched for and found Retridus. He was similarly overseeing the construction of various buildings.

“Retridus,” he called, prompting that druid to rush over to his master.

“Yes sir?”

The Arch Druid calmly stated, “I want you to take care of things here. I am going to go focus on developing our strategy and formations for the next battle.”

“It would be a pleasure,” came the subservient response.

Staghelm strolled away and said to himself, “I need something to occupy my mind.”

***

Walking near the grounds of Mount Hyjal and looking out over the the mending landscape, whose trees and grasses were intermittent with patches of destruction, the white figure approached injured Nordrassil. That lone visitor came up the catered mountain, whose beauty was marred with War, who now and again visited that land, whether as a battle between demons and dragons or between Horde and Alliance. Coming up to the wounded roots he touched his gloved hand to the bark, and the white mask looked up the massive trunk and saw an amazing monstrosity. There, entangled with gnarled bark, were the bones of Archimonde, his skull contorted with pain and his form imprisoned because of impious pride.

Turning around he reached up to the mask and removed. Shadow still wrapped around most of his face until, with his other hand, he pulled back his spotless hood. Shade slowly receded from his features and down into the confines of his raiment. His eyes slowly opened; those red orbs glowed and orange lights, like tongue of fire, pulsated around his dark pupils. Short black hair calmly rested on his head, and his fair skin constantly shined. Thick, sable lines came from his eye-lids and crossed his face; some of them spiraled up onto his forehead and formed into the following: ????.

Holding the mask at his side he looked out over the landscape, whose perfection was overwhelmed in a sea of lost glory. After a sigh he began to speak.

“Ashes to ashes, dust to dust- it is the destiny of everything that is made of this material world to return unto it. Yet, is it a worthy fate for unforgiving destruction to resurface on this planet? Truly, what have these peoples done to deserve another visitation of that sinful army, to once again take up arms against its terrible ranks? I have watched many worlds suffer from the choices of those demons: the decimation, the conquests, the slaughters. Race after race, people after people, nation after nation, city after city, family after family- all destroyed. Oh, great Jovos! Oh loving Iuna! When will the blade of justice cut them down? When will the hellfire they wrap themselves in be turned against them? When will divine punishment justly imprison them with eternal tortures?”

He looked up at the skeleton of Archimonde and said, “This demon has already met his fate. Doomed, he approached the hallowed tree and was rightly destroyed, his form torn with flame. His hubris and devotion to a fallen titan condemned his soul. Nevertheless, does his defeat bode ill for me, whom approaches a similar tree against the same foe?”

Then he held the mask at the arms length, level to his own face, and said, “My duty calls me to set up their fall, to bestow a gift upon this world that will spell the doom of the Legion, that will draw all its ranks into lethal battle and consign them to death. But at what cost do I fulfill my mission? Is it right to place a people so close to corruption’s grasp? And what have I gained from following orders? My own people regard me with scorn and contempt for purported sadism- that is what I have gained.”

He turned away from the mask and looked up at the tree, all the way up to the shadows that danced with the wind on its tall branches. One question reigned in his mind, “What to do?”

Looking back at the solid mask of white he started talking again, “However, I have received one blessing from all of this strain. He is my steadfast friend. My brother, who is akin to me in every way except for her lo-,” he broke off and started again instantly, “Galthaur! would I lose you if I forsook my duty? Surely, I would have to forfeit that eternal bond if I were to go another course. There is also the fact that I am indebted to the One for any joy which I experience. Aside from that, though, He gave the Crown authority over me. But did I not swear an oath to them? and if I betray my word then what good am I? Am I not obligated to do my duty? Indeed, honor and virtue dictate just that.

“I have already come so far down this path, and each time doubt has crept up it has been suppressed. So why should now be any different? It should not be. It shall not be. The road before me leads to paradise, and he with me.” He turned the mask around, and said, about to put it on, “All that I have comes from obedience and devotion. The One who has been always will be, and those who obey the Rulers of this universe shall surely enjoy the fruits of heaven even after all the cosmos returns to dust and ash.” He put the mask back onto his face, and pulled the hood over his head. Before vanishing he firmly said, “Very soon the wicked will pay.”

[Inquisistor7]

Chapter XX: Bellum Accingat Se [War Arms Itself]

“So how much did you want again?” Oradun asked the toothily grinning Goblin who sat across from him in the meeting room, wherein the crimson battle standard still menacingly hung on the wall.

“Well, for an order like this I would normally charge-”

“Just tell me how much you want!” Oradun shouted, thoroughly annoyed with the green midget’s sleazy sayings, which he had been subject to for the greater part of an hour.

More than a little flustered, the Goblin meekly replied, “Fifteen thousand gold pieces.”

“It’s a good thing,” Oradun thought, “that the military is paying for this.”

“Very well,” Oradun said, apparently calm, “and now I would like to see the first shipment. You did bring it correct?”

The little businessman instinctively said, “I can get the other loads here within a couple of days if you’re willing to pay the meager express charges!”

Oradun hung his head. He would have rather been spending time at the banquet hall or supervising the construction of the outer defenses. Actually, now that he thought about it, doing the latter would be about as fun as an arrow to the chest. So, with a heavy sigh he continued the negotiations.

“Look,” the Orc general said rising to his feet, “all I want right now is to see the merchandise. I need the rest by the end of the week. That is final. If you get them here earlier then I will make it worth your while.”

The Goblin smiled broadly. Oradun could almost see the images of gold pass across the merchant’s hazel eyes.

“And by worth your while I mean,” and Oradun tried to sound as courteous as possible, “that there is no chance that I will break your legs.”

The tried and true threat had the desired effect of shattering the dealer’s reverie, and prompting the craven trader to shakily say, “Well then, let’s go see what you have been waiting for!” The Goblin hastily exited the room, Oradun’s long strides close behind.

He lead Oradun out of the fortress up to a group of four large crates which sat on a patch of grass some twenty feet from its dark doorway. On the side of each was the insignia of the Goblin’s company, which was simply a collection of gold heaped on a gear. A couple of the businessman’s vertically challenged colleagues were standing around the huge containers, which were several times taller than the traders. The Goblins looked disappointed to see their companion’s nervous expression. Oradun’s imposing visage did not make them feel any better. The merchants did not say a word as the Orc approached the crate whose lid was slightly ajar.

Haphazardly throwing the top away, Oradun’s eyes widened as he took in the precious image. Explosives. Bombs. Land mines. Chemicals. All beautifully and carefully encased in their packaging. There were so many wonderful weapons. And this was just the first box of the first shipment! A large smile came across the general’s face. It was almost more than he could take at one time.

Oradun, almost ecstatic, carefully said, “Tell me,” and he managed to sound serious, “is there any way to increase my order?” Oradun turned his beaming face to receive a reply.

The head Goblin simply smiled, his companions smirking with the anticipation of higher profits.

***

While the Elven base was being rebuilt and as reinforcements arrived, the Horde was not idle. A long ditch had been dug a hundred yards from the western wall of the base, stretching a little to the north in a semicircular formation. The dirt from it was heaped up several feet in front of the six foot deep trench, creating a simplistic barrier. At the top and bottom of the line clusters of towers and burrows were set up to protect the ditch from being surrounded.

At the northeastern corner of the settlement, or, more appropriately, about a hundred yards away from that sector, a small outpost was built. A low stone wall, built of incongruous rocks, had been thrown up on the northern flank alone. The barracks, whose expanse dominated the immediate area, was surrounded by many towers and burrows. Whoever had set up these defenses clearly had haste more in mind than efficiency.

Truly, Ker’Tal had had no other choice. The Elves were already sending their air force on scouting missions, and if it were not for the stormy skies that he and his shamans occasionally brewed they likely would have started launching raids. Thankfully, it seemed that the Elven commanders still recalled the destruction such a storm could bring, and so building operations could continue.

A pair of vigilant, spear holding Orcs peered out over the ash stained landscape from one of the watch towers that rose above the western entrance to the main base. Ker’Tal stood behind those two, looking out over the red roofed buildings of the military town. Tired and uneasy the elder shaman appeared especially old. Days upon days of work and careful planning had brought about visible changes to the defense lines, but there was still work to be done. The Far Seer mentally went through the checklist of structures: the fortress was complete, the stone wall surrounding it was being completed, the town walls were finished, several well placed burrows made the settlement’s layout more defendable, the outer defenses were entering their final stages, and the southern outpost would be built by the end of the week. He sighed a little, at the sight of all his men. Hundreds of reinforcements had come from Astranaar, and the hundreds still here trusted him to lead them to victory, and undoubtedly a part of each and every one of them yearned to walk out of here alive.

Yet, here he was, calculating how many to send to the front lines. That ditch would be their grave. How many to send to the northeastern outpost. Surely they would be outflanked and destroyed. At those two locations hundreds of his own men might perish, no hundreds would perish. All the while he would be safe within the confines of the fortress. His eyes slowly moved under his hood to take in the sight of that structure. It towered over the spiked buildings, its own bony spines seeming to scratch the clouds. Again, those orbs of his were drawn to the roads below, thronged with scurrying peons. He could almost see the fires and outstretched bodies that would engulf those lanes and overwhelm the buildings that flanked them. “All in the name of victory,” He though to himself. “No,” he said aloud, “for Durotar, for the Horde.”

***

“It has now been about two weeks since our last defeat, gentlemen.” Umiana paced back and forth under the eminent Ancients, who were already swarming with wisps. “And here we are under trees again discussing strategy. Remind me why you did not permit me to launch any raids?”

Retridus looked like he was twisting with rage, but his commander spoke first, “It is very simple. We could not risk sending out a large portion of our forces while we lacked a sufficient base. If we had attacked the Horde might have used some of their devilry to strike down our air force and sent their raiders around our lines and cut off our supply lines. Obviously, the best decision was to wait while our strength gathered.”

“With all due respect,” Retridus entered the conversation with a surprisingly subdued tone, “I think we ought to finalize our plans for tomorrow’s assault instead of worrying about the past.”

“Indeed, Umiana we should.”

She could hardly stand these two. Obviously they were holding her back. If she were in command and not these bumbling druids then the Orcs wouldn’t even be in Ashenvale anymore. At least, that is what she thought.

“Very well,” she said, clearly annoyed.

“Retridus,” Staghelm said as he leaned up against one of the great trees that towered over them, “how many troops are we going to field tomorrow?”

“Five hundred Sentinels, two hundred druids, twenty ballistae, and some two hundred aerial units.”

The Arch Druid nodded his head slowly, and said, “Here is my final plan for tomorrow. As I have told you throughout this week, the Orcs have been preparing extra defenses and reinforcements have been arriving for them. With that in mind, our only choice is to strike them at different points simultaneously. Umiana, you will lead approximately a third of all ground forces around the burned forest and past the ruin of my base to the northeastern side of the Horde defenses. Retridus, you shall lead the rest of our ground forces against the western side of the Orc settlement. All I need is about fifty druids who shall join me in the forest just north of Retridus’s razed settlement.”

Umiana chimed in with these words, “Yes, yes, you have told us about this plan on an almost daily basis. And each time we have agreed to it. For once I think it is a good idea. So there is no need to go over the other specifcs except for one thing: have you decided what to do with our hippogryphs and chimaeras?”

[Inquisistor7]

Staghelm had been undecided on this issue. He could see the map in his room. He had all the ground deployments planned out almost to the platoon, but the air force was, well, up in the air.

“As I thought,” she said, accurately taking his silence to denote indecision. “I think the best use of them would be to deploy them all with Retridus’s group. That way, the enemy will focus their troops away from me, and leave the north opened for your ‘special forces.’”

Retridus was surprised. She was actually being helpful instead of insubordinate.

“That sounds good to me sir,” that druid said.

“Excellent. Tomorrow I will address the troops. I will go and make sure that the preparations to the north are going as planned.”

Staghelm abruptly walked out from under the shade of the Ancient into the dim light of Darkshore’s air, a pair of archers coming up to escort him. The other generals, averting their sight from each other, left in turn.

Single mindedly the Arch Druid strode down the road. He paid no head to the countless soldiers who still loyally saluted him., who found a degree of new hope in the reinforcements and sturdy walls of the revived town. Staghelm ignored the long streets and beautiful trees- the way the light broke through the boughs, how the friendly chatter exchanged by friends in arms bounced off the emerald leaves. He just focussed on getting out. For to him every building and every face pricked his conscience.

He could see Thalnos lying in his hastily made coffin. With each step in that base he remembered his callous orders and disrespectful words at his funeral. Even in front of all his mourning troops he had not taken responsibility. Instead, he had tried to take advantage of that loyal man’s death.

“Today we mourn the passing of a great hero. He gave his life in defense of his people. Let us imitate his example and fight on. How awful it would be if his sacrifice were in vain. So, today may reconstruction begin!” What sort of eulogy is that?

It had all happened so fast. It wasn’t supposed to have been that way. He had never intended for him to die. If only Thalnos had been listened to him more then he wouldn’t have been in such a bad mood and he wouldn’t have made him stay in the base. Right, he wasn’t entirely culpable. Surely, not blameworthy enough for him to distract himself from his duties. Yes, of course, he had more pressing matters that required his attention.

Staghelm rushed even faster out of the base on the dusty road, his escorts hastening to keep up.

At length they reached the forest, and saw that his fellow druids were already at work laying runes among the roots of the trees. Staghelm realized that, in the interests of speed, he had best prepare a teleportation spell for himself, so that he could get here quickly tomorrow. That pragmatic thought, however, was quickly set aside as the magnitude of the deep woods struck him. The Arch Druid finally felt relieved, and reassured that this time the Orcs would be defeated for sure.

***

The next day the sun slowly broke over the horizon. Its golden rays slowly illuminated the clouds, whose white girth was besmirched with a dusty haze. Columns of Sentinels and druids moved under the slowly swaying branches of the Ancients, whose arcane roots were to soon be uprooted in preparation for combat. Airula, the faint scars of past battles still marring her face, walked with her gray eyed friend Nia. They exchanged earnest glances. Neither one could find the words to convey the combination of courage and worry which crept into their minds.

At last, with all his troops gathered under the bleak sky of Darkshore, the Arch Druid proudly stood in front of his base’s closed gates of thick timber. He did not see Umiana’s forces, which meant they had already left. Staghelm almost couldn’t believe that this day had come. This day would be the crowning achievement of his campaign, and already it was under way. After that moment of contemplation he raised his staff into the air and spoke through the calm air to the host of brave warriors.

“My comrades in arms! The time is at hand for the final battle on these blood stained fields! For too long have the Orcs held sway over us. You have fought valiantly, and hardly can I blame you for defeat. Nor is it right to heave fault upon your commanders and officers, who have tirelessly labored to destroy the enemy. Rather, we must see the true source of our suffering. We have to realize that none of us here are responsible for the deaths of our cherished countrymen....”

Staghelm was not sure, but he thought he could see Thalnos, standing far to his left. The Arch Druid paused, his eyes drifting in that direction. Even as his staff drooped, he shook his head a little and regained his focus. The image of the deceased disappeared with the winds of his mind.

“The Orcs! they are the ones who cut down our beloved sisters and brothers! The minions of the Horde, look what they have done to us! Amidst our frustration do we forget the murder of Cenarius years ago? Do we abandon the memory of Astranaar? So many heroes have fallen at the hands of the Horde. We must avenge them, and prove that we can never forgive what cannot be forgotten. Is it even possible to at the same time remember those good Elves who have died and to forgive their killers? Does mercy overcome our sense of justice?” He gravely shook his head, his eyes downcast, “Don’t forsake the dead.” Behind the walls a faint a grumbling could be heard, followed by a slight tremor of the ground.

Staghelm recovered his former look, but his the serious tone of his new words invoked all that he had just said, “Put aside all grudges except those that will help us to achieve victory. Surely, if we do otherwise then defeat shall engulf us again. Speaking of which, what shall be done in order to atone for the losses incurred today? What will we dedicate to the fallen? What is our goal in this battle? Let me tell you. In the Orc’s base there stands their great fortress. Its towering trunk rests upon proud foundations, and its stony height, like a great tree, covers the Horde settlement with shadow. We will claim that structure as a momento to the fallen. For when we have it in our grasp all that stronghold’s power shall be ours, and to that newfound strength we will tie the memory of the dead, so that they will never be forgotten as long as our insuperable might rests inside those walls. Thus every one of us shall share in the glories of triumph and the peaceful repose victory brings!”

He turned around, and the gates opened, pushed by well placed guards. Slowly marching forward, all the Ancients pressed forward. Their great branches about to scrape against the tall portal.

“I must leave you now,” the Arch Druid said, turning around, “but these great trees shall join you in battle. And in the sky our forces will take wing. Finally, I must leave you now. But know this! I will return with the whole strength of nature at my side. For Elune!” Then a blue light surrounded the Arch Druid as he touched his hand to a specially made scroll of teleporation that jutted out of his cloak. His green hair and purple flesh vanished in the light as the shadows from the Ancients pressed forward.

Victory seemed so close, but what was closer to their hearts was the spectral whisper which encouraged hope even in the face of unforgiving war.

***

Tents were lined up over the primary streets of Horde settlement, preventing any aerial scouts from seeing what was taking place. Dawn had already passed, and the final explosives were being lain. Those troops who were to man the outer defenses had left a few hours previous, giving the peons just enough time to finish up their job. All the land mines had been plantedthe night before by overworked peons in the space between the would be battle front and the main walls. Every soldier had been informed of this danger, and the field officers had been told specifically where all mine clusters were, prompting them to march out of the base in a serpentine path. By the time they had left, the detonation wires for the explosives under the street had been strung underground among the bombs and barrels of gunpowder that rested under the earth. Thus they could all be blown with the throwing of the handful of levers that had been expeditiously set up in the main hall of the fortress.

Before his men had marched out, Oradun had gathered them all in a dense crowd in front of the primary barracks. There, sandwiched among the spiky buildings, he spoke to those scores of brave warriors, his sword glistening crimson with torch light.

“Today we face an enemy who has amassed a great army against us. Defeat after defeat has caused them to assemble such an epic force. I will not lie to you: many of you probably will not return home alive. But, more of them shall not return to their placid forests. Surely, they will fight bravely, but the honor your bravery will earn shall be unsurpassable. We all walk the warrior’s path, and the greatest thing a warrior can do is to die in arms. Our nation is founded upon sacrifices. Indeed, each cornerstone of our beloved capital was purchased with blood and bones. So the only way to preserve it is through death. Therefore, let us experience a glorious death and preserve our beloved homeland, bought for us by our great ancestors!”

They all roared in unison, their weapons thrust into the bloody light which streamed through the camp’s bellicose streets.

***

Even as the armies of both sides marched onto the field, whose grasses were being covered with the shadows of sharpened blades, a pair of steadfast spirits readied themselves far away. Within the familiar walls of the Goddess’s innermost shrine of her sacred temple they preparared for battle, Eira armed with her strongest armor and Draer wielding her most arcane and powerful stave.

Breaking through the faint noise of the burning torches and shaking metal of her armor, Eira said, “So, Leones is going to remain here? I am surprised that you are willing to come with me while he remains.”

Smiling she replied, “Don’t be like that. I am doing this because it is what Elune requested, just as she asked us to aid Leones before.”

“I guess so,” she said quietly. “Do you think,” she said with more than a tint of anxiety, “that those two will try to stop us when we go to fight.”

“We should probably just focus on doing our job,” Draer stated blankly, but in her mind she too feared the coming of their adversary and his brother.

“Anyway,” Draer said, “when should we go?”

Eira was beginning to look more enlivened, her zeal filling her soul. After looking over her long spear for a brief moment she replied, “Now would be good. We have kept our warriors waiting for too long.”

[Inquisistor7]

I would like to thank everyone who has been reading this. Having surpassed 85 pages on my word processor, it has been a long journey (well in my humble estimation). I don't perceive there being many more chapters left.

Anyway, the next chapter will be very long, since it will contain the final battle of the Darkshore campaign. I have taken into consideration the recommendations some have made that I make the action scenes more specific. I hope to deploy some ideas I've come up with to resolve that issue in the next chapter.

Finally, happy New Year!

[Bullroarer]

Pretty good chapter, all in all I was satisfied, but as a good writer Inq you have to let your soul burn when writing a story. Write with passion and the love within your heart. Do not think of the words, let the language consume you in the burning red core of your soul. Stop thinking and write from the depths that exist within you that no other author can duplicate. Every human has the ability to find the writer within them and let it off of their work. I really love the way you portrayed times of war and the affects of zealots.

[Inquisistor7]

Bull, you always give me some piece of advice I had never thought of before. Thanks for the compliments and replies. I have a great deal of respect for you and your opinions.

And about war, I have found it intereseting how when playing a game like warcraft war seems so fun, but when writing about it how hellish it really is seems to come forth more often.

[Flak]

Skillfully written, Jokkun. Keep it up.

[Inquisistor7]

My good readers, I have a sort of mixed announcement about the following chapter. Now, it had been my intention to completely wrap up the events in Darkshore with this chapter, but because of how long it would end up being I have decided to conclude this chapter with what is close to the final happenings of the region. However, this is essentially the final battle, since who will win should be mighty obvious.

In no way at all does this mean that this chapter is incomplete. Oh no. It encompasses what its title states (in my opinion). Also, this is perhaps the best battle chapter I have ever written. Please, if possible, give me comments and replies giving your reactions and thoughts to what I consider a truly epic installment. Enjoy!

******

Chapter XXI: Proelium Fractae Cupiditatis [The Battle of Broken Ambition]

Just after sunrise, a few hippogryphs, ridden of course by scrawny archers, fearlessly moved through the hazy airways which lead to the enemy’s base. They, along with several other bands of scouts, were performing the final observation runs over the Horde encampment, mere hours after a similar flight had occurred. Hastening with flapping wings, they dimly saw the forbidding fortress standing far away. Yet, even as they knocked their bows amidst the loud winds, many black silhouettes rose from the guarded ways of the military town.

Perhaps those Night Elves were surprised to see opposition- after all, for days on end the enemy had never taken to the skies, and the only reason scouting was not constant was because of the occasional clouds whose dark visages frightened the minds of the commanders with dreadful memories.

Undoubtedly, their eyes widened as the realization struck them that, indeed, the enemy was coming. In a handful of quickly spent moments the poison tipped spears of the wyvern riders began to shine, their deadly potential soon to be realized. Despite the fact that the beasts of the air maneuvered with their riders fighting bravely, the dark swarm merely increased, transforming over time and distance into awful foes.

Not one hippogryph returned. No Elves came back.

***

Even as the sun was climbing towards its rightful position in the heavens with its blazing circumference constantly shedding light, an entire forest quivered with druidic energy. Despite being under the discomforting clouds of Darkshore, the branches seemed to eagerly animate: their trunks shifting into knotted countenances, their roots transforming into strangely formed feet, and the finely carved runes which were etched into their bark glowed quickly before fading back to normal. In some nameless clearing among those woods, Arch Druid Staghelm arose from meditation along with his band of comrades, whose energies sought replenishment. That Elf, however, brazenly picked up his staff with his mighty hands and rose up to his full height.

“Rest for a time,” he said haughtily, “you have been the principle movers of this spell. I will lead this force to battle. Fear not! I enjoy the protection of not just mobile nature but also the strength of dear friends.”

With those words he rushed off with the advancing forest, whose survival would depend upon future magic from the druids. The walking trees passed the resting spell casters, whose weary souls took a much needed reprieve so that their powers could be ready for the furthering of one General’s glory.

Meanwhile, his trusted ally Retridus marched safely behind a particular battle group. No flashy formations would be used this time. No overly complex tactics. Just normal formations with equitable forces -each with the same goal with only slightly different maneuverings. All he had to do was break through the defenses of the Horde and seize their settlement. That was it. To Retridus, it all seemed so much easier this time.

He proceeded gallantly with the central assembly’s share of spell casters, recently joined by some fifty dryads, whom he had to hastily deploy across the field. “That was okay, no big deal,” he thought. “So he had forgotten to do a few things, what harm could it do? It was only a relatively small number of units who had to be moved a small distance. Only the spell breaking dryads were lost in the shuffle. Well them and the thirty faerie dragons who could turn the tide of battle, and the twenty five mountain giants who could shatter enemy lines like a hammer breaks glass... Just remain calm. It was only a slight oversight, and everything was in place now anyway.”

If at that time a report had been drawn up of the movements of that General’s army and of the nearby positions of his enemy, it would have contained what follows. Three columns, one north, one south, one central, of equal numbers of ground units made up the Elven force in that sphere of battle. In each group approximately one-hundred and ten Sentinels (of varying numbers of mounted huntresses and archers) were present, along with about eight mountain giants, fifty druids (most of whom had acted as organizers of the new base’s construction), roughly eighteen dryads, and finally five ballistae. Behind all the ground forces stood six walking ancients, whose mighty limbs were supposed to be called upon when necessity so dictated. On the other hand the air force was spread out over the ground between the northern and southern Elven concentrations. In lined formations the great flocks of hippogryphs strode through the air, accompanied by the amphibian looking faerie dragons, whose mystical powers made up for their small size. Nearest to the ground and most breathtaking to behold were the many chimaeras, who were led by the red scaled behemoth whose two heads led the charge towards the enemy. Speaking of whom, the Horde deployed a mere two hundred grunts into the entirety of that front. One hundred in the trench, and fifty in each defensive cluster at the end of the earthen defense line. Only sixty spear wielding trolls were present in that area. Twenty marched into the long grave, while the remainder stood among the doomed towers at the ends of the ditch. Though the reports from before sunrise had informed the Elves of a great number of shamans heading towards the front lines, at that time hardly any were there. Indeed, few spell casters at all were there.

That fact escaped notice, however, in the chaotic battle that soon developed.

Behold! as the storm of wings glided over its allies who were steadily coming towards the enemy lines, twin streaks of light came down from the clouds. Brilliantly shining particles quickly collected in two separate assemblies. Then, with a sudden shock of illuminating aura there stood on the battle field a duo of mighty beings. Each had the countenance of a Night Elf, but their shining raiment and glistening armaments brought an amazing realization to all.

The Elves’ goddess had sent her deadly messengers.

[Inquisistor7]

The Elves, whose forces had stopped for a moment due to shock, then began to charge with an unbelievable fervor, a roar rising up like a wave. By the time it crashed into the shores of the Orcs’ defenses an omen appeared in the sky. Draer, whose very image inspired hope and at the same time fear, raised her eyes to the heavens and turned her palms up to the sunlight. A circle of darkness moved across the sun, of which only the outer rim of light went past the disk of the moon. Shallow and temporary twilight covered the land, and the Elven forces seemed to gain all the more strength as they issued forth in the contrived darkness.

Eira, whose face had the look of a Sentinel, then readied her spear. The surging soldiers behind her all charged forward with all the more fury as she threw it across the shout filled air. The glimmering shaft sailed over the surprised Orcs and landed behind them. When it penetrated the ground, a blast of dirt and soot shot into the winds. Nodding her head, she confirmed the suspicion of her eyes, namely that the ground’s disturbed look did not come from some friendly contraption. Then, with her face still set in calm control she pushed her arm forward, causing the spear to shake. Having been violently sent out of the ground it again rose into the air, and it turned as if held by a hand. Then, facing down, the point glowed red, vibrating with electrical shocks. Eira’s youthful eyes blazed for an instant and the weapon hurled itself into the ground. Tremors shook the entire area around the walls, and magic flowed powerfully though the dirt. Every last land mine exploded in a abrupt crescent of flame. Cratered, the ground between the trench and the base had the look of wasteland, its grasses rent with destruction.

The Orcs and Trolls who stood in the battlefield were still dedicated to the fight. Recovering from the shock, the dauntless grunts took their positions. Climbing out of the trench, Orcs jumped over the low wall of earth that stood before them and charged the vast expanse of enemies. While they sacrificially charged, headhunters came up from the grave and joined their own comrades in small groups of spears. What few spell casters there were stood in the ditch and prepared spells to aid the doomed Trolls.

Oradun himself recognized all that happened. He stood on the jagged walls, and seeing the incoming enemy he managed to think calmly. Given the power of the newly arrived entities, it would be necessary to distract them from the aerial strike that would soon be launched. Running down a nearby stairway he came down to the ground and ran along the seemingly normal roads. The peons stared at him blankly as he passed them in his sprint. Soon the bestiary came into his view, and he shouted loudly, “A wolf!”

That pair of spirits then ran forward in a furious dash, their feet moving so quickly that they were almost blending into the wind. Eira, her form hardly discernible, broke through a line of a dozen grunts. Two fell to the ground as their comrades’ turned their heads to find a streaking body of armor pulverize the end of their dwindling line. With merciless alacrity she pulled her spear out of the third victim and leapt a little backwards. The confused Orcs were somehow still in a straight line, and the point of Eira’s weapon, hastening with blurring velocity, went through every last one of them. Her ally, on the other hand, disappeared completely from the battlefield. Or so it seemed to the score of Orcs who ran around her. Their bellicose eyes had lost her in all her untraceable maneuvering. Using her powers, she became as invisible as the air. Breaking the relative calm her disappearance created, she arose like a hurricane of arcane power. Those twenty Orcs were engulfed in incinerating pillars of fire, their singed axe heads falling to the ground next to heaps of ash.

Among the forces which first clashed with the onrush of Orcs was a platoon of Sentinels. Led by Airula, whose faintly scarred face was filled with zeal, the five huntresses joined battle with ten grunts. The glaives, of course, hit first, wounding several, but the grunts were not beaten so easily. They recklessly approached the snarling panthers and armored Sentinels- axes beat upon shields- claws and fangs attempted to spill orcish blood. The huntresses might have been surrounded and defeated by the larger grunts, had it none been for the arrows of Nia and her archers. Despite the wood that protruded from their brothers in arms, the Orcs refused to surrender, battling on, always trying to land one last blow. Airula and her comrades, without a hint of clemency, slew them all. What was left was a mix of the fallen, each one dying bravely. The rest of that battle group proceeded in a similar manner, gradually approaching the spear throwing Trolls.

While that happened, a host of winged beasts stirred in the Horde base. The shrieks of bats and wyverns joined the violent din as some forty Trolls rode crimson eyed creatures among the formations of fifty wyverns whose riders hastened into battle through the darkened sky. The Elven air force, however was quickly approaching, their shadows adding to the blackened grounds. Draer, discerning the oncoming interception raised her hand into the air, a tongue of fire appearing in front of her fingertips.

Yet, even as she had elevated her robed arm, the western gates opened. Atop an ebony wolf, Oradun escaped from the sable shade and contended towards the arcane spirit. Thoughts of victory overcame his sense of caution, and he set his eyes upon Draer. He moved his katana as if it were a missile. The sword flew at her with unanticipated speed. Turning her eyes, she saw the projectile, but did not panic. Rather, she quit her spell and clenched her fist. The blade vainly struck an invisible wall of mana, whose azure dome appeared abruptly just before the weapon hit the cracked ground.

The tactic worked. In the sky a line of chemical blasts lit up the hippogryphic lines. For the bat riders had ignited their dangerous concoctions just as they passed through the hail of enemy darts. The formations of chimaeras roared with pain, and for a short time disarray and death prevailed over the aerial forces of the Night Elves.

Oradun smirked as the sight filled his eyes. His moment was shattered by the most painful hit he ever felt in his entire life. Eira jumped and contacted his ribs with her armored foot. He and his mount jerked and shallowly climbed into the air, covering a relatively great distance of territory in the process. They fell in a contorted heap of pain, the dog whimpering, the master groaning.

She did not have a chance to finish him, for the still open archway now loosed ten raiders into the field, behind whom came a spectral cloud. The wolf riders raced for their leader, while the shadowy fog, which looked like it had been pulled from a stormy torrent, took shape before them. The grim figure of Galthaur, whose aura clotted the portal, appeared to those two spirits alone. Though mortal eyes did not see the Tempter, they did see the two spirits ignore the wolf pack and vanish as they sped into the consuming darkness of the base’s entranceway.

Thinking that he had come to undo the Elves, they found themselves face to face with him within the surrounding shade. He laughed and said, “I can tell from your faces that you thought I came here for battle. Not so. I am warranted only to do my duty. And so I came here to do what I am meant to do.”

They gave no words to him, but simply struck at him, one with a spear, the other a lightning bolt. The gloom concealing them wrapped around the adversary while the attacks harmlessly collided and fell off of the divine mist.

“Oh well,” he said with an insincere tone reluctance, “I can’t just let you stop me from doing my job. Why then I would be liable for judgment.” The voice seemed to come from all sides. While they turned around warily, black bonds seized their ankles.

“Don’t worry,” he said, “I will see you soon.” Then the darkness around them vanished.

“Where did he-”

Eira stopped, as she looked upon the familiar walls of Elune’s temple.

“We can always-” Draer took a step forward, but as she did so all her soul realized that her energy was drained. She fell to the ground, her normal looks returning. Eira, her eyes widened, fell in a similar fashion. All the while the statue of Elune remained mute.

Despite the vanishing of those champions the concerns of the battlefield and the easily overcome enemy allowed the Elves to remain steadfast. Even though the moon moved slowly away from the sun’s bright face, its rays pouring forth in total abundance within a short time, the Sentinels fought on as hard as ever.

The light fell upon the raiders who surrounded their injured commander, whose vision blurred and darkened as his mind passed in and out of consciousness. Four of the Orcs dismounted, and would have removed him from the wolf, but his legs were broken, the bones jutting out awkwardly. Blood dripped from his lips and one of his bruised arms held his shattered side. While his men slowly began to pick him and his wolf up, revenge called across the field.

Airula’s eyes saw the wounding of the Horde general, and she was hit with a revelation that widened her tortured eyes. He was the one. The blade master who had destroyed Astranaar and who had led the Orcs against the Elves in Darkshore, now lay there. Vulnerable. Without even calling out to the rest of her platoon she drove her panther over the barrier and trench, leaving behind the Elven force which even then was sending mountain giants to bowl through the earthen barriers. Nia, however, noticed what her ally was doing and, after letting loose an arrow, shouted: “The Orc leader lies there in blood! Sisters! penetrate the enemy line and destroy him!”

Those words not only stirred her immediate comrades but brought two dozen more Sentinels with her. The huntresses jumped over the Orcish impediments, as the archers covered them against spear and spell. The charge hastened with mad speed towards the dazed General, his whole body writhing with pain. He and his mount were picked up together and the raiders slowly proceeded back to the open gate. Five of them turned to face the onrush of Elves, led by the one whose eyes seemed to smoke with fiery anger and tears of anguish. Airula heedlessly went at them, unafraid to die. The raiders, however, soon were engaged by multiple Sentinels whose panthers rapidly appeared next to the foremost Elf. Glaives cut through the air and the exposed flesh of the raiders, whose blockade was overcome in a torrent of fanatic blades.

[Inquisistor7]

Drawing ever nearer to the stony portal, Oradun vaguely saw the sortie that broke through the handful of courageous Orcs. The Sentinels who had stopped briefly to fight now again took up a gallop, the claws of their mounts kicking up bloody dust. If his hazy mind could have known fear at that moment, then surely it did, for his enemies were closing in on him. But lo! from the walls, came down scores of darts and spears, let loose by the many Trolls who now, seeing that the mighty spirits were gone, had reappeared to man the entranceway’s defenses. The charge was therefore cut off by the falling projectiles, and so thick was the rain that even with their tower shields raised could they weather the attack. So Airula, and distantly her friend Nia, angrily watched the hated enemy escape into the quickly closed doorway.

By that time the wyverns, disregarding discretion, were attacking their rapidly reorganizing enemy. Still very much outnumbered, they clashed upon the current, but over time they would all be sent to the ground in death. Below them the remainder of the battle line approached the headhunters, whose spears availed them not. The panthers leapt over the short wall of dirt, and arrows knew no barrier. On top of that, the stony behemoths crushed any in their path. Some Horde soldiers tried to flee, but the chimaera’s loosed themselves from the disorder of the bat riders’ attack and, with lightning bolts issuing from their draconic mouths, they struck down Troll and shaman alike. One two-headed dragon in particular, its ruby hide unscathed, glided over the scattering soldiers with the newly locked gate as its target.

***

Hundreds of treants contended over the ashen remains of a once proud forest. They carefully and quickly moved over green buds, which arose even in that wrecked land. Staghelm was very content. Though he had a long distance to travel, surely this force would be unexpected. Through the moving boughs he had discerned a strange light, which was followed by a quaking eruption in the distance. Those events were soon disregarded as inconsequential, after all, many spells could have done what he saw and heard. He turned his mind to more important matters, such as directing the attack of his battle group (he flattered himself by bearing in mind that it was his idea).

So when the five wyverns passed overhead, it is somewhat understandable that one so full of important thought would not notice such enemies. Then again, the wyvern riders were flying high above the walking forest, and the treants themselves were completely focussed on the task of getting through the ruined forest, whose subtly dangerous paths were always a source of concern. So, with no one warning him of the foes high above, Staghelm proceeded towards the Horde base thinking of strategy and tactics and not of those who labored far behind him.

...A little earlier a soldier in a watch tower, which rose out of the rampart of the settlement, had sent word of the oncoming assembly of leaves. Unknown to the Arch Druid, the Far Seer of the Horde had lived up to his name in the weeks previous. The strategy originally had been to simply strengthen the northern sector, but Oradun had decided that at the very least some aerial units should check the area whence the treants came, to make sure that the druids would summon no more. Therefore, aside from the few extra Trolls who manned the walls, a handful of wyverns were fortunately stationed near that gate....

***

Lying down on a bed in one of the upper levels of his stronghold, Oradun slowly became conscious. The room stopped spinning and became still, and his eyes at first fell upon the two katanas that hung on the wall. He was in his room. He tried to move, but his whole body throbbed with piercing pain. A witch doctor stood over his bed, and was about to tell him not to move when the General ordered, his voice straining, “You...heal...me...now!”

“Mon, I cannot by mys-”

For a warrior who was almost killed, Oradun’s grip was still very potent. Grasping the Troll’s neck he pulled himself up, and said through his teeth, “Get more healers then!”

Barely able to talk the doctor managed to blurt out, “Dat be good choice mon.”

Oradun nodded his head and fell back to his bed, his eyes closing in rest.

***

Umiana was well pleased. She did not have the same number of troops as that fool Retridus, but the oncoming battle would prove her own skill. A promotion would be in order after she expertly defeated the enemy, of course showing extraordinary prowess in battle (which might even warrant a medal). She had her forces gather in five blocks with each surrounding a ballista. What few druids she had were to act as healers while the huntresses fought in the front (the archers wrapping around the siege weapons to provide a shield of arrows and bodies). She herself was at the head of the central group, and the Sentinels who marched with her, who numbered only a few more than a score, were emboldened by the morale her presence gave. She almost looked like a goddess of war, her shining armor and precious features appearing to become only stronger as the enemy left its defenses to take the field.

She had predicted that they would remain in their towers and near their barracks, using them for protection. No matter. The Horde soldiers did not appear to even number one hundred. Umiana let out the order to charge and readied an arrow, taking aim at one member of the formless force’s onrush.


***

The headhunters and beserkers who defended the western wall threw their spears as hard as they could. They did not even prick the massive chimaera whose growling heads pulled up as they approached the gateway. Two massive blobs of corrosive bile were spat at the doors whom at first stood firm. As the acid, however, hanged on its brown beams the wood began to burn away, and a long hole began to form down the middle of the door. Turning its attention to the annoyance the Trolls were creating, the chimaera rose up a little higher into the air, so that the entirety of its mass was fully visible. Some dropped their weapons and abandoned the rampart, but some of the beserkers continued to hurl their pointed shafts. The great beast before them fell through the winds and, almost landing upon the wall itself, flapped its giant wings to create a powerful gust. Pushed back, the Trolls were unable to attack, and the two-headed dragon opened its dual maws. Lightning bolts struck down a couple of Trolls, and now, without any hope of survival, the remaining spear men in the area fled, some so frightened that they jumped to the ground from the heights of the thick walls.

The air force, its opponents having been destroyed, descended upon the western wall, followed the lead of that red skinned goliath. More than a quarter of their units had been killed in those earlier spheres of fire, but they were numerous enough to complete their task. Hippogryphs and chimaeras landed on the rampart and began to destroy the wooden watch towers, tearing apart their crimson roofs. The archers who had ridden the winds dismounted hastily as soon as their beaked mounts touched down upon the stone walls. Under the cover of wings and thunder they attacked whomever opposed them. Those soldiers manning the defenses gave up the fight and entrusted themselves to flight. Meanwhile faerie dragons flew over the town, keeping watch on those who fled. The leader of the air force, landing upon the arching portal, extended its ruby wings and roared the first discordant hymns of the battle’s dirge.

His whole army came back together, the southern and northern forces coming around the bend with few casualties. The commanders’ spirits were high, and it seemed like the entirety of the Horde’s power was fading away. Retridus had not expected it to be so easy. There should have been more Orcs in the trench. He thought they would get past it, but not that fast. Also, the druids who flew across the field to inform him of the entire situation reported that the Horde numbers were less in other regions of battle than previous estimates had foretold. Moreover, the defensive posts at the end of the Horde ditch were falling rapidly. One question, still bothered him: where was the majority of the Orc army. Perhaps in all the chaos many had fled back into the base. Where else would they go? No enemy would abandon such a stronghold. Yes, of course, they must be in the settlement. Plus, they might be spread more than originally supposed, hoping to defend their base equally on all fronts. Thus, he should just continue with the plan.

Atop the fortress, looking out over the pandemonium and destruction, Galthaur said to himself, “These Orcs, I remember them well. They have come a long way since their leaders gave them over to the Legion. If only they had not loved war so much. Violence and strife, that is what I presented to them as glorious, and their shamans and chieftans accepted it. Woe to them who takes up power without regard for anything else. Indeed, that love of bloodshed and strength handed placed them in demonic hands.”

“You speak,” Parcus said, “as if this were their funeral.”

Turning to his brother who stood invisibly in his comapny he responded, “If that is how I sounded then please do not misunderstand. I was just...”

“Yes, I know. Your judgements are not incorrect. Anyway, we should be able to watch the remainder of this before she takes action.”

Galthaur then mused pleasnatly, “It is indeed an interesting sight to see how the flush of victory can enter into souls so swiftly.”

[Inquisistor7]

***

Staghelm’s forces finally reached the northern gate, but already smoke was rising from the Horde base. Through the swaying branches he watched the air force drop archers onto the rampart and chimaras strike down defenders. With all the speed of an avalanche, the enemy’s strength was falling from its once mighty position. Indeed, his treants were barely attacked at all by the time their gnarled hands were ripping through the splinters of the tall wooden doors of the orcish walls. As he made his way towards the front of his “special forces” he smiled to himself. Nothing was going wrong.

Little did he know that five wyverns, ridden by bloodthirsty Orcs, were descending upon the large circle of druids who supplied the treants with energy. Still meditating in what was now a much expanded clearing, they did not notice the enemies until the first batch of spears dispatched some of them to death. Awakening, their minds were encumbered with lassitude; they ordered their bodies to move, but their straining muscles were weighed down with stiffness. They all had not the strength to muster any spells, and so they tried to scatter.

The grasses, whipped by the wind from the wings of the enemy, were slowly trampled by the falling of bodies and the moving of weary legs. Some might have escaped, but the Orcs had nevertheless achieved their mission: make any druids they encountered one with nature.

***

The towers and burrows burned steadily in the background of Umiana’s march. Their spikes and roofs were easily overcome by her ballistae, and the soldiers who had run out to meet her army were destroyed in a river of arrows. Not many of her soldiers had fallen. In fact the huntresses alone had suffered the most casualties, but the disparity between numbers and variety of troops meant the grunts and headhunters, who were only seventy strong in total, were beaten within a relatively short time.

Her blue armor shined brightly, as she guided her siege machines to line up in front of the eastern gate. Her army, bloody and dirty, stood just behind those weapons. Now it was only a matter of time.

***

Retridus’s army marched through the portal and saw the blazing settlement. Suspicious of a trap they proceeded down the avenue unopposed but cautious. The ancients remained on the field, not wanting to risk fire’s harmful touch. The soldiers meanwhile saw how the spaces between the many buildings had been clogged with wood which now acted as the furnaces that were destroying the base. The air force had by that time secured the walls, finding few enemies who did not flee, and the druid scouts reported that they were holding themselves up in the fortress. Retridus guided his men down the fire flanked street, deciding to find his master.

Moving steadily down the paths, the doorways to the various buildings were growling with embers, and inside some they made out protruding weapons and contorted steel. Some houses had the look of infernal prisons, their walls opening up to devour damned souls. The smoke which rose into the air played tricks with the Elves’ sight, making their own aerial beasts appear to be winged demons delighting in brimstone.

Staghelm himself was already through the northern gate, but he was puzzled. For not only was the base aflame, but his own treant force had fallen apart just after breaking through the tall passageway. Alone, he walked under the shadow of his own dragons who flew patrols overhead, and the hellish glow that surrounded him grew in intensity. The long shadows of the collapsing base appeared to create fiendish images, whose hands grasped for his very soul. Troubled he looked for his prize among the billowing smoke. At length, Retridus, accompanied by a few druids, came up to him as he was nearing the bastion’s forbidding entrance.

The third general was also entering the settlement at that time. She was pleasantly surprised by the lack of resistance, but was further shocked by the growing inferno she beheld when she entered. In fact, every Elf who looked upon the collapsing barracks and tumbling bestiary felt as if he had been robbed of something. The furnace of burning glory seemed to mock them, the breaking timbers creaking with laughter.

All those thoughts concerns disappeared when the winds pushed the black clouds away from the mighty fortress. A shadow wrapped around it, seeming to make it taller. The massive, arching bones, rose above the toppling heaps of ash, and its proud foundation was lit up with the light of the inferno’s base. Everyone who looked upon it felt that one could truly dominate all the burning land with such a stronghold. Its orcish look was swept away as the Elves’ desire for victory changed the deadly image into something to be desired.

“Sir,” General Retridus began under the citadel’s shade, “we have occupied the enemy base. Umiana sends word that she has accomplished her goals, and our air force and scouts hold the walls and patrol the skies looking for any Horde units who remain here.”

The Arch Druid, however, was not pleased, in spite of his subordinate’s enthusiasm. “Tell me,” he said, “did you destroy the majority of the enemy’s forces?”

“Well sir, their numbers seemed less than originally reported. We have found out, though, that many fled into the fortress.”

“And what of the base to the south?”

Retridus seemed unnerved by the question, answering hesitantly, “Well,umm. We have no reports of activity about it.”

“Send scouts to confirm it. Also, get all ground forces into the streets. I want everyone ready to battle as soon as we claim the stronghold for ourselves. However, soldiers will have to man the walls and the fortress lest the enemy attempt to take them back. Finally,” and Staghelm began to stride towards the tall fortress, “get Umiana and collect from among both battle groups your best warriors.”

“Yes sir.”

***

“So it seems that the great Staghelm lost control of his forest despite having fifty druids operating from afar? I am amazed.”

“Umiana, just get the troops ready,” Retridus replied, “he wants the fortress secured.”

“We really ought to just destroy it, but it would be pleasing to use the Orcs’ own defenses against them.”

So, within twenty minutes of entering the base the Elves had a force of twenty-four Sentinels, ten druids, and three Generals at the doorway of the enemy headquarters. As the generals came closer to it their minds rejoiced. It was more impressive than they had imagined. The bony spires glowed with the light of burning base. All the strength it represented, all the difficulties its owners had created for them- it would soon be theirs. If they could lay claim to it and raise their standard above it, then all they had striven for would not have been in vain. Their anxiety faded away under the shadow of that citadel, and their soldiers burned with the feeling that at last triumph was within reach. Acting as if the lack of resistance reflected nothing more than their own power they stood aside to allow a mountain giant to charge at the barricaded door, above which a horned skull portentously rested.

The giant collided with the oaken entrance, and it could not stand against his might. The living boulder burst through the doors and stumbled a little over himself, his stone hand bracing his fall. Pulling himself back, Airula and Nia, chosen from Retridus’s army, led the Sentinels into the building along with those forces under Umiana’s command. The archers gathered in the center of the vestibule and the huntresses ran up to the three doorways in military fashion. With the room secured, the generals entered. With a wave of Staghelm’s hand they threw open the doors and rushed in, archers carefully following behind them. The rooms on the left and right were empty but straight ahead something interesting was found.

Running into the great hall, the Sentinels saw rows of tables lined up in front of a dais, which sat below a throne at the far end of the room, a large red cloth hanging behind it. On the ground in front of it, four levers sat. Wires ran from them under two large doors that stood on either side of the throne. Behind a phalanx of huntresses, and directing archers to take up positions around the tables, the generals entered the large room. Far behind them the other soldiers were gathering in the vestibule, about to follow their commanders.

All of a sudden an Orc appeared in front of the levers, his forearms extended over the black handles that were close together. His tusks pulled back in a grin, and his weight rested upon one leg while the other was raised from the gray floor. As he pushed down the levers, all at the same time, he appeared to separate into a handful of different images. Then, an astoundingly loud noise shook the very foundations of the fortress and shattered the hopes of the Elves.

The primary roads, thronged with almost every soldier of the Elven army, were torn with massive blasts of fire, which ripped through the ground and engulfed the unsuspecting hosts. Dirt and shrapnel flew through the air, and flame spiraled upwards. The concentrations of the Sentinels were, in the same moment, maimed and killed with explosions. Some were soon buried under a shallow veil of dirt, while other fell among the hell smeared buildings. After the shaking stopped, a cloud of dust rose up, and it thundered with wretched moans and dying gasps.

For, in the time before the battle, under the cover of tents, an almost endless amount of explosives were placed along with ominously carved totems. About an inch of dirt was carefully placed atop the mines and various carriers of sulfurous fury. How is it then that those roads could be used so frequently?

To the south, in the confines of a wide tent, thirty shamans sat around a blue circle, whose runes glowed in the dim room. Ker’Tal and his allies chanted slowly and quietly, sweat slowly running down their green skin. The function of their spell was to keep the ground around the bombs solid and even, to the point where it could be stood upon without any problems arising. Ever since the first soldiers had begun leaving the base for the defensive lines they had been sitting there, keeping still the first patches of dirt. Since then, they had been concentrating on an increasingly large area. They, however, had nothing to fear, for around them stood the majority of the Horde army.

[Flak]

Holy crap, J-sama. *swoons*

Very good. There were minor cases of spell-spazing but that was insignificant next to your vast ability. I'd like to point one thing out though-

Her blue armor shined brightly, as she guided her siege machines to line up in front of the eastern gate.

No comma is needed, and it would be shone not shined. But damn dude. *swoons*

[Inquisistor7]

Sorry for the little grammatical/spelling mistakes. I am glad you enjoyed it.

[KillAllZerg]

Damn man, your're good!!! :bigclap: :bigclap: :bigclap: Just one quick question: Where is Furion Stormrage?

[Inquisistor7]

Thanks for the praise. Well, in World of Warcraft I'm pretty sure the word is that he is stuck in the Emerald Dream. I myself just knew that he was missing at the time I started this story. I can tell you that he will make no appearance in what is known as Auctoritas Deorum. As for whether or not he will show up in some later story detailing the events that occur in the wake of this tale's events, well, I think the answer to that depends upon whether or not I ever actually pen such a work.

[KillAllZerg]

Strange. :y-huh: I thought when the enchantments placed upon the World Tree were broken, the druids no longer had to go back to the Emerald Dream. Even if they did, then how come the other druids didn't go as well?

[Inquisistor7]

I don't know many specifics, but if you want more info on warcraft lore and characters, go to the single Player Forum. It is the place where all the great "lore masters" reside.

[Inquisistor7]

Chapter XXII: Meati Adlectum Sunt [The Paths Have Been Chosen]

The three mirror images rushed towards the shaken lines of elves, whose ears still rattled with the roar of that terrible sound wave. Through the two doors that flanked the dais, eight headhunters charged, and the real Oradun limped and hurled himself towards the red standard that appeared to drape the wall behind the throne. Archers, crouched behind formerly banquet laden cover, and huntresses, standing on their own feet, raised their shields. Very soon the low moans that trickled in upon the smoke laden air from outside were joined with the clash of arms in doors. The trolls were promptly greeted with arrows, and the Sentinels targeted the enemy expertly, despite the confusion that reigned outside the hall.

Concerned almost to the point of madness, Staghelm, his speech still stern, ordered his commanders to take charge while he took charge of the forces that were gripped with chaos in the vestibule. Retridus, his concentration turning to battle, resolutely replied, “We can handle it.” With those words, he began to prepare spells to aid his gallant countrymen. Even as the Arch Druid then withdrew, more trolls came, and Umiana, her armor shining, jumped atop a table, her green hair high above the glaives of her soldiers. Filled with audacious fervor, the other archers bravely exposed themselves to fire arrows in a fury of courage. In a matter of minutes blue skinned bodies and bloody hair clogged those passageways.

The huntresses were not without quarry. The three katana wielding orcs were quickly discovered to be false, and, noticing this fact, one huntress also discerned the escaping blade master. Her vengeful tongue then moved, “Sisters! The leader of these devils is escaping!” Before the generals who stood behind them could say anything, Airula broke away from the line, and with her a few others raced. Antecedently, though, several grunts had charged from behind the bloody flag, their battle cries rattling against the Elves’ timber shields. They passed the limping general in a headless attack, but the metal filled atmosphere engaged them before they ever swung an ax at the silvan soldiers. Despite this lack of defense, Oradun managed to overcome the dais and penetrate the other room. Arrows quickly sailed through the sheet, and landed haphazardly about the stone ground. His whole body aching Oradun shouted, “You fools! Get out there!” Then the back room, which was filled with hunting hands and a pair of huge bulls, stirred.

Nia observed her friend’s assault, and seeing those soldiers draw closer to the torn standard she was about to join them, until her eyes widened in surprise. For the doors flew off their hinges, effortlessly plowing over the punctured headhunters who lay dying. Holding in their hands massive shields, a pair of tauren menacingly filled the vision of the Sentinels, and their entrance seemed to span an everlasting second. Then that archer forsook her cover and ran with all her might. As she contended towards her ally, Airula’s small team stopped in the wake of that tattered drapery’s fall to the ground. A score of trolls now stood in front of them with a barricade on either side of the fortress’s seat of power.

Immediately darts were fired at all enemies. Arrows whistled through the din, and spears joined the fray. Those foremost huntresses did not fall back, but hastened into the tusks of the trolls. Except for Airula, who bounding up the steps to the chair, jumped on its frame and leapt forward. The Horde soldiers looked with wonder as she floated over them. Then, as if from nowhere, an archer flew along the same path with furious speed. To their amazement, they did not stop, but were driven, either by fate or merciless instinct, towards the shadowed staircase at the rear of the room. The trolls, embittered about the sending of their own comrades on suicide missions, returned their attention to the battle at hand, and the witch doctors who waited to heal their men ignored the two elves. They never really liked their general anyway.

Meanwhile, the tauren warriors, who disliked battling against a people so close to nature, sped towards those who stood guarding that druid. Through the steel winds they joined battle unscathed. Retridus seeing those two opponents, rose in height and power. His form changed, and mana fueled a swift transformation. The taurens’ long swords cut through the mountless soldiers, and their shields withstood even Umiana’s arrows, but the growling bear who rose up against them cared not.

Elsewhere, near the spiked barriers, friendly bolts acted as the other huntresses’ flanks, hitting the enemy first and precipitating their little sortie of glaives which killed those that encountered it, many of whom had been distracted by those two bold leaps. Also, at that time lines of headhunters had been formed behind the two door ways and they were about to make their mark, anxiety gripping their minds and courage pressing their hands tightly around their weapons.

The Arch Druid had by then already been accosted by the frantic soldiers who had stood within the sulfurous vestibule. Some of them had already gone out into the sorrowful air, reporting strange and disturbing tales. Staghelm did not feel like dealing with this right now. Ignoring their words, he merely said, “Out of my way.”

He pushed through the small crowd of lamentation, and he walked into the still rising clouds of dust. His eyes beheld, in a appalling sense of awe, the terrible destruction. Only moments ago he had seen them victoriously marching, and now....He shook. His mouth was wide open, and his broad chest trembled. Some in the dirt reached for him, and through the sable atmosphere, and his eyes beheld the houses of hell, whose victims slowly died as the flames, running low on fuel, devoured Elune’s proud people.

He seemed to forever wander through the all too full streets, thunderstruck. Suddenly, from the sky a hippogryph descended, a soldier atop it. She shouted these words to the general, “Sir! the enemy army! Their coming from the south!”

His guilty soul freed itself from woe, and his quivering mind steadied itself in thought. In the calmest manner he could marshal, he said, “Then spread the word: retreat! We cannot stand against any force.”

She left, the sights of ruination and the dying flames chilling her to the bone.

Staghelm then darted back into the fortress- its inauspicious portal closer than he had thought.

***

Airula came up the stairs with cautious speed. Her battle hones eyes watched for all dangers, and her long ears could make out the running of Nia behind her. She at last came to a passageway lined with doors, one of which was flung open, a lone orc standing in front of it. In his dangerous hands a katana rose up into the red torch light. An expression of suppressed pain was all over his drawn face, and he leaned heavily on one leg, which, unknown to those elves, was itself beginning to crack with torment.

“Incompetent trolls,” he thought in his beleaguered mind, “they can’t even heal right.”

Airula was quickly joined by her ally, whose hands were already preparing an attack. The huntress raised her arm in front of the archer’s rising bow, and she began to stalk forward, her face becoming fury itself. Her echoing steps became faster and faster, and the glaive in her seasoned grip was soon to take to the wind. The enemy, meanwhile, attempted to ready himself while he said in the common tongue, “So this is the honor of the children of the stars? Just try to bring me down! Nothing at all dictates that you will triumph.”

She disregarded his words, and plunged her spinning blade into the air. He knocked it away with apparent ease, but as he guided it into a nearby plank of timber, his tired frame shook internally with agony. Moreover, his sword, slightly to the side, could not block the elf’s vaulting tackle. When those two, wrapped in each other, fell to the ground, the general’s ribs creaked aloud, and blood filled his mouth.

Airula, her shield still fastened to her forearm, managed to bring her avenging hands around his neck. Oradun, his sword having clanged to the ground, compressed her throat, and with excruciating exertion, he rolled her to her back. At the end of hallway, Nia pulled back her string, the arrow aimed for the scapula of the merciless orc. The vision of the two who wrestled each other both began to blur, and spit and blood dripped from the blade master’s teeth onto the huntress’s writhing face. Then the elf’s opponent deeply wailed from his gasping lips- a pointed shaft protruded from his back.

The world was beginning to blur, and the commander of the orcs began to lose consciousness. The grip around his own neck tightened, and another bolt struck his shoulder. That warrior, however, was unwilling to surrender his victory. With all his strength he pressed down on the female’s windpipe, and his own eyes began to surge with lusty hatred. Airula, about to die, looked up through the orc’s blood, and her strength collapsed. Before her spirit left those shores, her heart ached with unfulfilled revenge.

More arrows, by then, were jutting from that warrior’s back, but even as Nia saw her friend perish, the general left her vision, a slow wind eventually going down the corridor. Tears in her eyes, but afraid of the invisible foe, she returned to the battle below. Going down the ebony path her mind flashed with images of what had been lost under the march of orcish boots- Astranaar conquered and friends slain. Then she was struck with what she had been told so long ago when trained as a soldier: it is just for a Sentinel to die in arms. Taking this advice she pushed on. Finally, she came up far behind the enemy barricade, firing at whomever she saw, her mind bent in raging grief. The mystical trolls who flanked the walls saw the solitary attacker and trapped her with a stasis ward, its crackling bonds encasing her limbs. She wept and grunted in frustration, thinking of lost comrades and slain family as she tried pry herself out of the magical field. A few projectiles bored into her, and she went to the afterlife, unable to satisfy those burning memories.

Oradun himself slowly arrived, and breathing hard he tried to put into words his yearning for treatment. His followers, however, could not refuse him whom was so covered in miserable wounds, and in the din of battle they saved his life with their soothing sorcery.

***

[Inquisistor7]

Staghelm sprinted through the vestibule, his voice booming with words of flight. He entered the hall and saw the ending battle. Piles of trolls lay at the back of the room, but dead Sentinels were strewn over the benches. He saw the barricades, riddled with punctured limbs. He saw, Umiana and a band of archers firing volleys from behind a group of overturned tables. He was unsure how long he had been away, but those doubts left him as well when he recognized what was right before him.

A slashed bear, its fur streaming with the liquid of life, grappled with a tall tauren, whose comrade had gone to his eternal rest upon a mass of dead huntresses. The bear’s fangs seemed to have the upper hand, and its eyes appeared to strain in determination and concentration, while the endurance of its spirit was stretched to its absolute limits. Its claws rent the flesh of the horned opponent, but the walking bull continued to tragically dance with the resilient animal.

The Arch Druid was not daft. He realized easily that his friend was that furry combatant, and already he was preparing a spell to heal him. He raised his arms and his staff. Everything would be all right.

A sudden change came over the tauren’s face as his neck was crushed by the jaws of the beast.

Only another second for the spell....

The tauren fell a little to the side and then collapsed fully.

A spray of turquoise light wrapped around Retridus, still clad in claws.

Staghelm’s ally turned his head and smiled as much as a bear could.

For a brief moment, as if overcoming the bounds of harsh warfare, there seemed to be happy relief. Foolishness. A spear shattered those joys. Once again, hallow triumph resounded in that land. The towering beast fell, the projectile piercing his heart. He returned to his normal form, and his friend ran over, light already flowing all over his hands. On the other side of the room a berserker fiendishly grinned, his muscled arm still outstretched. An arrow from beautiful Umiana ended his life, her bolt blasting the brain between his eyes.

That little battle quietly ended. The last Horde soldiers in the hall fell soon thereafter. Staghelm held his friend, the spell trying to mend the torn strings of his heart. Falling into death, Retridus looked up in pain. “I failed,” his tongue barely moved. “Elune, save me...I..can...see... ” Staghelm labored with all his strength. The dying druid reached up past Staghelm’s concerned face. The Arch Druid felt that success was within his grasp. Retridus then spoke, his hand clasping at what was near to his friend’s face, “the dark.” He breathed no more, slipping away from the touch of a beaten man. And so Staghelm’s victory was taken away, in a whimper more dreadful to him than any explosion.

***

The Night Elves abandoned the coveted fortress, and the Horde, under weary Ker’Tal, approahed the overturned base. Carrying his friend on his own shoulders, Staghelm left with what few survivors were found on the ground. The air force covered their escape to the north, but not before dropping torches upon the roof of the despised stronghold, whose dark shadow seemed to vanish even as the last refugees departed. Shamed with defeat, the Sentinels passed their old settlements accompanied by the ancients, and they departed from those fields of fruitless fighting, leaving it to their wolf riding enemies...

As his command center collapsed, Oradun exited. His campaign in that region complete, he slowly walked down the broken street, his eyes not shedding a single tear. At length he overcame the final craters of the boulevard, and saw that the southern gates thrown open. A few orcs and trolls were accompanied him as the last living beings to pass under the sable portal that led into the fading inferno.

***

Elune peered out from the mist that surrounded her and the mountain her feet rested upon. She closed her eyes for a moment. She saw it all, yet she could do nothing. Those two would surely stop her. “But, can’t I?” she thought, as more sorrowful images came to her. The Goddess put her hand around her face, trying to withstand the pain.

“That’s it,” she said firmly, removing her damp fingers from her eyes.

“What is the point of all this? How am I any different from those lazy lords of the lofty heavens if all I do is sit back while my people suffer? I suppose, though, that even I must bide my time, lie in wait.”

The recollections did not stop. She saw those who had been small children just yesterday. For her, a thousand years was like a day, and those moments were seconds of sincerest agony. Atop the proud cliff she at last gave in to the call of her feelings. A wind blew the cloud away, and she said these words.

“No. Even though the moment of triumph is not supposed to be for another dread handful of hours, I will not miss a chance to mitigate this grief! I will prove that all those who were lost are never forgotten and that their Goddess moves for them always!” She then disappeared in the embrace of a shining light.

Walking away from the horrid scene, looking forward to the next day, the two celestial brothers walked near a lake. They strolled with amazing carelessness, talking to each other, the mask nodding and the Tempter laughing. Proceeding down the shore bordering grass, their eyes now and again shot glances over the waters, whose tide continued to meander over moss covered rocks. The sun, falling towards the engulfing horizon, all of a sudden ceased to be the brightest light in the area. For in the dark woods a flash of brilliance caught the attention of the duo. They stopped in their tracks, their voices halted. Then Galthaur, amused, commented, “Look who’s here. She is probably angry. What do you-”

A boot collided with his noble jaw. He went through the air, his face not even getting a chance to contort into surprise before crashing into the water. Before Parcus’s white countenance, the purple figure of Elune stood. Her leg still in the air from kicking his companion. The black holes of the mask examined her enraged visage, her gray eyes pulsating with wrath. He did nothing.

Elune, however, in a split second, faded into the air. The enforcer of the Crown turned to his right, but not before a flash of mauve blasted into his moving head. The Goddess’s form became visible as her opponent flew through the winds and into the ground. Her fist, which flushed with silvery lavender, was outstretched, and she grinned as she saw the immaculate raiment of Parcus roll and contort in staining mud. Elune returned to an erect position, and in her hands a surging light changed into a long sword.

From the water, like a crocodile, Galthaur’s head surfaced. A red glow filled the water around his shadowy head, and the tide shimmered with waves of bloody light. Rising out of the liquid, his dark frame surfaced, the water slipping off with the expanding majesty of his aura. His hand was on the hilt of his sword, whose gem sent out coalescing bolts of crimson energy that surrounded the adversary of the moon. Elune readied herself, getting into a battle stance, her blade reaching for the stars. Even as he began to draw his blade, a white blur clouded around his wrist. Parcus’s pure form stood next to his brother with the blotches of dirt having been eradicated from his vesture with but a simple wish of his divine mind.

“Now is not the time to fight the daughter of Jovos. It is unnecessary and wrong to battle against the beloved offspring of the Crown until duty demands so.”

Hearing those words across the lake, Elune quickly said, “Do you retreat so soon? I didn’t think you could swallow your own bravado so easily.”

Her words were futile. Galthaur placed his weapon fully in its sheath, and smirked. In a cloud of light and dark the two vanished.

A final writing of rage came across her face before the Goddess bowed her head with a passing sigh, whose sound wrapped around her falling sword. Before her mind’s eye a parade of sorrow marched. She saw all those who had died in the war. Those who had shed dream smothering blood and who had believed in her- each one had hoped for so much. She saw each charge, every bow shot. With a whirl of anguish the images of battle went dim, and one picture remained. Those two fiends, standing atop the jagged citadel, smugly looking down upon the carnage. Neither turned away, and they seemed to mock her impotence.

She looked up to heaven with misty eyes, and she overcame a sob with these words, “No matter what,” she saw the smiling faces of her people, “I will not fail.” Elune again took up her sword and vanished in a column of ethereal violet.

***

[Inquisistor7]

Ker’Tal himself walked down the lane of the Warchief’s hall, which was filled with various councilors and officers. Oradun was still away in Astranaar, receiving treatment for his injuries. It had not been a long time since the battle, in fact, the general had arrived very quickly on account of a wyvern’s wings. The old shaman, standing before mighty Thrall’s throne, said, “We have abandoned Darkshore and the enemy has quit their battlements, and their desire to fight has been crushed in their hearts.”

The leader of the orcs and the lord of Durotar made his somber reply, “In war one loses more friends than enemies. Nevertheless, thank you for your servcice. Dismissed.”

The general left, the dour mood pervading every soul in the chamber.

***

Through the key hole of a rather plain looking door, one might have seen fourteen chairs, which rose up into the long shadows produced by the ancient weapons hanging on the walls. No features could be discerned on those experienced orc warriors, but what was said resounded in the closed room.

An old voice went first, “It seems that those two did it after all.”

“It’s not like,” a rough tone commented, “we didn’t expect it.”

“True enough,” enthusiasm replied, “but we still have to figure out what to do with our popular heroes.”

“The tauren were not pleased with this whole affair,” reality reminded, “plus they are complaining that their warriors were sacrificed more than others. We need to keep our allies pleased.”

“Yes,” cunning began, “but we require soldiers like Oradun. The shamans will definitely protect Ker’Tal, and will go to any means to keep him blameless.”

Suspicion spoke, “Are you suggesting we leave him out to dry?”

Astutness stated, “I don’t think that’s what he meant. What I think he inteneded to also say that we should both let go of Oradun and hold onto him.”

A black head nodded.

The old voice returned, “So what will be the charge?”

“Treason seems best, after all, he did blow up a base,” logic said.

Nods.

Inquisitiveness asked, “But how will we be able to redeem him?”

“Simple,” clarity replied, “he will be expelled from the military but not executed.”

“Sounds good,” logic agreed, “but who will take his place on the war council?”

“Let the shamans have it,” cunning said, “we should focus on our own plans and not get wrapped up in something so closely under the far seers’ eyes.”

Wisdom brought something up, “Won’t Oradun still be viewed as a hero when he returns? We need our operatives to be completely willing to fufill our orders. Fame can’t be allowed to distract him.”

“All of that will be taken care of,” the astute voice said, “after all, his exploits are not exactly of high moral caliber.”

Nods of agreement.

“Well, I think we can resolve the rest of this in the future. Allow that soldier time to recuperate. If worst comes to worst, he can always be reinstated in the chain of command. His battle skills might come in handy against the humans. For now let us go.”

The old voice finished talking and the meeting came to a close.

***

In the night that followed the fortress’s fall and the death of obsequious Retridus, two gods sat in prayer. The rocky buttresses of the cave reverberated with their final supplications. For hours they knelt there, having put out of their minds the attack of the lunar Goddess. At length, Parcus asked, “Oh you who have the power and the authority, if there is any other way you wish us to take, then give us an omen, send us a sign. Tell us, brave Jovos, enlighten our hearts gentle Iuna! Your lowly servants beg to hear from your wisdom.”

No thunder, no flash of light, no words on the air. To their spirits the reply came in the form reverent silence.

Bowing low, the enforcer of the Crown said, “As you will.”

Galthaur lifted himself up and said, “Then indeed enough time has been given to free spirited Elune, and her people have avoided providence for too long.”

“Remember, brother, act not out of-”

Galthaur cut off his brother with these words as he too rose up fom the stones, “It feels like it was just yesterday that the person into whom I poured my essence was taken away, and for those who span the ages what is lost can be recovered only in eternity. Yet, I will not go against the will of those who always triumph.”

While they ended their praises, the Sentinels and ancients withdrew from Darnassus and took up positions at its limits, leaving only obelisk like totems hidden among the buildings and trees of the city. No elves remained in the capital, and the priestesses placed everything in the hands of the Goddess Elsewhere, dragons were about to take wing...

[Flak]

Very good...I liked the way Elune started whacking people and the insightful glance at Orcish politics. I didn't like the deaths of all the cool people in the first two posts though.

[Inquisistor7]

Well, I didn't want to have to kill Nia and Airula off, but I never acomplished what I wanted to with them. As for Retridus, well, he served as Staghelm's go to guy in the war, and now that victory is lost Retridus's purpose is gone.

Also, the next chapter will be the final installment of Auctoritas Deorum. This story covers the battle between the gods for Teldrassil and what happens to the elves in the meantime. There is a lot more I could write after the next chapter, but that is the nature of the Warcraft world: there is always more to tell. So, after chapter 23 nothing more will be written under the title of Auctoritas Deorum.

With that in mind, please look forward to Chapter XXIII: For the Love That Is Never Forgotten [Latin version still being hammered out]. Finally, I would like to thank all who have read up to this point, and I hope that the finale pleases you (I have only been planning out since chapter 1) .

[Inquisistor7]

Chapter 23: Pro Amore Qua Semper Tentum Est [For the Love Which Is Always Remembered]

The capital of that land slept under its violet atmosphere, and the ornaments of the sky appeared to remove their beauty as that duo of divinity entered the ivory streets with transient bursts of light, their voices having recently moved in pious exercise. Unopposed, they marched towards the druids’ temple, whose now useless azure clothing collapsed even as they drew within bow shot. Then, coming down in columns of white moon beams, Elune and her companions fell from the heavens.

Buildings and boughs all around him, Galthaur spoke to those resolute spirits, “Do you think that here you can stop us? Surrender. What power do you have left? It is dispersed from your person, and no being can save you from the power that enforces the will of the Crown.”

“If you will succeed,” the deity of the Elves replied, “then you will not mind if I gather my vain advantages.”

A smile answered her.

“So be it.” The ancient daughter of Iuna proceeded to raise her arms, and, unseen by her opponents, but felt, the stony engravings placed by the Sentinels began to glow. A flood of energy suddenly gleamed around the Patroness’s body, and the might which she had spread throughout the world and blessed her people with was again fully linked to her, giving her access to increased strength while to a degree depriving the world of her grace.

“The strain,” the brother commented to the smug Tempter, “perhaps will get to her in time, but for now allow her to battle with whatever means she chooses.”

“So shall we prepare?”

“I believe so.”

Yet, even as their tongues stilled, the glory around Elune seemed to transfer into an encompassing suit of silver armor, which glittered like an all too close star. Her gray eyes glimmered steadfastly, and in her hand divine energy formed into a long bow. Those around her did not tremble, but strengthened their hearts with courage and their minds with the operations of battle. Brave Leones drew his brazenly burning sword, and adept Draer whispered into the mystical lights that had begun to blow about her crimson robes. Meanwhile, fearless Eira focussed her strength and prepared her spear.

“What a group!” Parcus exclaimed, “They look as fierce as a pride of lions. Do they hope to hold the earth together against an earthquake? What can claws do to unstoppable change? Will they use their fangs to the devour the lightning of this storm and digest such a mighty hurricane? Hardly possible. Who can stop such acts other than the one who starts them?”

Thus he spoke, and the white veils were cast off with swift motions; the mask, too, was flung away. Like an angel he was covered in a holy aura which exuded from his immaculate cuirass and shining grieves. Gold mail lined his joints while the orange fires of his eyes burned like the furnace of divine punishment and the light of his radiant face moved between the black lines of the fateful word on his forehead.

“At last,” the blonde haired adversary savored, “the justice I have long sought is entering my possession. Beware, you traitorous lot! for no union of beings can overcome what you now face!” He drew his ruby weapon, and red lightning surged around him. The blade itself then shimmered with bloody lines which seemed to foretell a gruesome destiny.

Seeing these preparations, Elune raised her bow with her left arm, and formed her fingers in the way one might when handling an arrow, but no such projectile was in her hand. As she pulled back her right arm, the string on the bow bent, pushed by an invisible force. Then when it was fully extended, a flaming length of yellow energy appeared in the shape of a tipped bolt, and she let go. The blast soared straight through the air, and split into numerous other darts which hurtled towards the two brothers.

The lunar bursts fell all about them, the flames and smoke rending the ground in surrounding explosions. As if on cue, Eira and Leones rushed forth, their weapons and eyes aiming for the pink walls. They jumped into the air on opposite sides and were met on one flank with red steel and on the other with a white force of energy. Thrown back, they flipped to the ground and landed on their weighty soles. At the rear of the party, Draer, meanwhile, saw the gliding images of the two gods, whose potent frames moved with invisible strides about the boughs and window sills. Therefore, as those deities fell behind her shocked allies, she levitated a little into the air. Immediately, the glowing spheres around her rose to eye level in an ascension of encircling fire, and she ordered them forth with the standard gestures of magical assault.

The halo of orbs broke around the Goddess, whose bow suddenly changed in a warping glow of light into a long sword, and she appeared to blend in and out of vision as she charged towards the swift enemies. Elune herself collided with a weapon wielded by shadow, and that spell shifted in its lined flight; however, those blasts encountered the crossed forearms of Parcus in rapid succession, which caused them to disintegrate on impact in a dispersing haze of mana. After an imperceptibly short instant, the sword bearing shade took on Galthaur’s shape. The eyes of the two contending gods were wild with hate as their blades grated against each other. The Tempter then condescended with these words, “Is this all? so weak a jab, and so sloppy. You ought to be ashamed, but you don’t know what that is, do you?”

His strength grew within in his arm, and his sword pressed closer and closer to Elune. She, in response, disengaged in a shallow leap backwards. He smirked, and to the Goddess his expression implied lack of notice. For, from behind, Leones hastened with his shield and sword ready for defense and attack. As that warrior’s point came close to the area around Galthaur, the rose electricity that draped him began to bloom into an encircling field of energy. The blade had hardly touched the sphere when Leones was repulsed with lightning’s painful touch. Hurtled backward, his senses dulled in a surge of agony.

Elune, gracefully landing as if her armor bore no significance, recognized the Galthaur’s shield, and she was unimpressed, saying, “Still using that? Maybe you think my memories of what you have done in ages past are gone, but I do not forget so easily.” Again raising her sword and piercing through the shadows of that lofty tree, she slashed through the red barrier. He merely stood there as the glass like pieces fell around him. Still holding his tool he once more addressed the Patroness of the Night Elves, “Is this display meant to make me shake in fear? You are so amusing.” She did not seem to hear him as she brought herself up for another swing. “I suspect,” he said, “that-”

She stabbed him through the breast plate, and looked into his eyes with pleasure. He simply smiled. The entire body of that god at once became as black as the depths of the void, and like a waterfall he flowed over her blade. Shocked she turned her head from side to side before steadying herself. The Adversary’s sword fell flaltly into the liquid shadow and sank into it. The Goddess, perturbed, pulled back towards towering Teldrassil with guarded steps.

While that was happening, Eira took the fight to Parcus. Or so she had hoped. She was hardly able to put away her apprehension of facing so infamous a figure. As she sprinted with amazing alacrity, those fears did not return, for the desperation of battle replaced such anxiety with loyalty and self-preserving skill. The harsh executor perceived her blurring run and turned slightly while raising his divine arm in her direction. A lance of his own poured from his forearm, and the white line engaged her shield in an overpowering display that stopped her tracks so quickly that they dug into the cracking street. Numbness filled her shield-bearing arm, and her whole body shook under her now staggering aegis.

The sorceress of the moon’s company then began to shoot beams of flame from her hands towards that shining god. Those fires were reflected off of his bright armor, and his grim eyes locked onto her. Slowly he proceeded forward, and the magics of Draer availed her in no way at all. Elune would have engaged him had she not discerned an enemy creep from some sable sanctuary and point his blade at her. Thus she turned to duel that shadow of the alleys while Parcus’s armor began to thunder with black bolts, which leapt from one plate and link to the next, like lightning rolling among the clouds. Almost abandoning hope of injuring him, Draer moved herself in a new spell. Shards of yellow light collected around Leones’s pain wracked body, and he stirred as the anguish disappeared. On the other hand, Eira felt her arms and legs revive.

From the black depths of the Goddess’s vision Galthaur came. His sword connected with hers, and they two strove in swings and parries. Sparks flew as the blades danced, and at times one would duck down and attempt a low thrust. At others one would try to outmaneuver the other by attacking from new directions. Neither one landed a blow, and for what seemed like an age they continued to battle in a tight theater of combat.

That confrontation prevented Elune from aiding in the assault on Parcus, whom was not oblivious to the two fighters that were taking up a charge against his back. The weapons those two bore had begun to sparkle with power, and their suits glowed with renewed light. Loyalty to the moon of one small world drove them onward. They shouted with battle cries, but those growls did not cause the lamps of Parcus to alter their course even as those warriors vaulted at him with auras that almost exploded with power. Black lightning collected among his wrists and fingers, and in two separate strokes they blazed at the leaping spirits. Those bolts threw them backward, and the tongues of divine might flowed all over them, coming through the crevices of their mail. When they hit the ground with moaning thuds, the gushing power had died down, but dusky blotches were all over their flesh and armor. The dark energy surged on and off, torturing and immobilizing them.

Meanwhile, Elune blocked a stroke of Galthaur’s glowing blade, and she shoved it back in a flash of strength. Still smiling, he seemed to float on the shadows with his weight shifting in the shade. Parcus entered the corners of her sight, and she would have attacked that knight had not a black web leapt for her neck like a cobra. Spinning her weapon, it changed as her attention again fully rested upon the Tempter, whose cape and dark recesses stretched into whips of shadow. “Don’t be troubled,” he said to her as she hacked at tendrils, “he is merely doing what your parents have asked.” Visibly angered, she aimed her weapon like a pike, and in a spray of light it became one such tool. His confident expression did not change. The long steel thrust at him, but a hole opened up among his frame, and the weapon passed through without dealing any harm. As if from nowhere, Galthaur’s sword entered his palm, and with a flick of the wrist it took an aerial course at his opponent. With crimson bolts linking it to his hand, he sought to strike her arm. What he found was that her massive spear became a shield, crested with the moon. The sword bounced off, and the red lightning returned it to Galthaur’s grim hands.

[Inquisistor7]

At length Parcus completely passed those two divinities who were entwined with abhorrence, and he neared spell gathering Draer. Every step began to rattle her courage, and her mind searched for some solution. No incantation, no blast of arcane fire was effective against him. “I do have,” she thought reaching behind her back and grasping at the air. The duel echoed in what seemed an immeasurable distance to the sorceress, who was soon to defy a god. Still drawing closer, Parcus did not care about the motions of her hands. He kept his eyes steady. Finally, his gleaming armor came to a rest just a few paces away from her. That deity leaned forward a hair’s length, as if about to strike, when the one contrary to him charged forth and produced a long staff from her back. The stave’s invisibility vanished and its length hit the enforcer of the Crown square in the jaw. He did not give even an inch. Surprised, she began to quiver as she slowly pulled back her weapon. The embers almost seemed to flow out of his eyes, and fear ignited in her limbs. The dark storm of Parcus’s gauntlets wrapped itself around her, and with a nod of his head, she was cast aside towards her comrades. The muffled screams that arose from her tumble among the far margins of the road weakly arrived at his ears.

The lights of the moon’s countenance were for a moment dreadfully distracted with that awful sight. She, however, did not have a long time to mourn the suffering of her followers, for the Adversary discerned the loosening of her guard, and his whole body transported itself through its long shadow, appearing right before her. A knee to her armored stomach bent her, and his right fist was followed by his left in a fury of punches that sent her head back and forth. Stumbling backwards, she tried to orient herself, and managed to block Galthaur’s flying sword with her own, but her smearing vision did not raise her attention to the rounding kick that came from his sprinting stride, nor the the blow from his knuckles that sent her into the air. She landed in a heap of upturned earth near her comrades.

“Is this all, Parcus?” the brother asked, “did you not tell me that they had more planned?”

Turning to face his sibling, he replied, “They come on the winds.”

Miles deep in the sky, an enormous amount of dragons flew. Those two gods saw at the head of those hundreds the massive leviathan, the great master of the Red Dragon flight: Alexstraza. So gigantic was the Queen that her tail might have pulled down the stars had their shining bodies been adorning the atmosphere. Perhaps, the two subordinates of the Crown also saw Terra standing atop the scaly head of that dragon, with her soothing face and tranquil demeanor leading in that brigade of wings. The drone of their limbs was broken by a collective roar that announced their approach towards the capital of Telrdassil.

Galthaur and his brother turned their attention to the Goddess whom was standing up with these words, “What will you do now!?” She breathed hard for a few seconds before regaining her composure, “How can you hope to protect a tree from so many streams of flame?”

“Again you forget what has happened in the past,” Galthaur responded, “we foresaw this tactic, and so we will use a technique that has not been used since that titanic battle so long ago. Behold! the might of the gods!”

He jumped into the air, and the shadows wrapped around him like wings, and Parcus collected a massive ball of thundering darkness in his hands. He hurled it at the coalescing obsidian, which began to look like a black diamond hanging on the wind. Elune’s eyes did not widen, she merely whispered words of healing which began to restore the power of her allies. The enforcer was suspicious of her lack of action. “She should,” he thought, “be panicking right now. Nevertheless, even if she has predicted this, there is nothing that can be done to overcome us.”

The silhouette of a great monster then flashed around that collection of power, and the outline of giant jaws and cruel claws expanded expanded as the image faded in and out of sight. Then two massive wings broke away from the Tempter’s chest, and arched up like the gates of the abyss. From the rear, legs and a tale filled out the ethereal frame. Long, draconic limbs came forth, and a neck and muzzle likewise contorted and widened. The flesh of the transforming god hardened into what looked like black metal. Similar armor plated his torso, and a white star marked the center of his chest. His eyelids opened completely to reveal the fiery circles of the pit, where around the pupils flames seemed to engulf disloyal shades. At last he took flight with his form scraping against the highest reaches of Teldrassil and his wings almost draping the entire sky in ferocious majesty.

With his exit from the street, the lunar company was about to engage the icy visage of Parcus, whom now spoke to those that still harbored hope, “Not one of those flying worms will be slain, but none will interfere with me. I do not really know why you continue to resist devotion, nor do I really care. If indeed you wish to have all your aspirations dashed, then I will not destroy that dream.” He smirked and held his ground. The Goddess looked to her right and to her left scanning the demeanors of her group. Grave and unrepentant they joined battle yet again.

Countless rivers of dragons’ breath, of all colors from all flights, were directed at the Tempter that emerged from the shadows of the towering tree. That wave did not bounce off into a spray of dangerous flame, rather it seemed to almost be absorbed and dispersed at the same time. Not having yet unleashed her blast, the Queen awaited for Terra to go through with the plan. That spirit became a pillar of white light, which flowed over Alexstraza and coursed over her red scales with empowering energy. In the mind of the huge dragon she heard the voice of that feminine soul say, “I have leant you my strength, do with it as you must.” She then opened her jaws, and a conflagration of breath surged out, aimed for the hide of the dark enemy. Seeing this, that god exhaled his own fire, which equally met the opposition. These blasts continued for a time as they circled each other in torrent of colliding flames. While that transpired, Galthaur's massive wings had begun to send forth a strange storm, for as he flew hazy bonds of shadow were consigned towards the scaly force of winged creatures. These sable chains not only floated on the air, but stretched out their tentacles over the maneuvering dragons, whom found themselves weighted down with exceedingly heavy shackles, which even had started to tie around their mouths. Well pleased despite the crimson beast he faced, Galthaur let loose a great din from his throat, which resonated in the ears of the slowly falling swarm.

During that aerial fight, down below the shade of sealed Teldrassil, Parcus contended with Elune and those who yearned for triumph over the authority of the gods. Leones unleashed his own magical projectiles from his sword, and the azure orbs, six in number, were knocked away by the enforcer’s forearm. A spear cut through the air over the white boulevard and came close slicing the executor’s knee had he not quickly jumped towards the wooden walls of a hall. At the peak of that building the Goddess suddenly appeared, having escaped his sight in the motions of battle. With gravity she sent herself down, and in her hands a long staff appeared, whose iron tip hastily extended towards the dodging god. It caught him on the shoulder, but it could not penetrate the plate, and the pike bent as Elune used it to vault to the other side of the breaking road. Volts of power were once more collecting around his gauntlets, when a passing incantation grabbed his ear.

Too late, the comets, leading a trail of light through the winds, were locked onto him. Draer’s missiles distracted Parcus’s lightning, which burst from his hands and annihilated the mystical asteroids. The glistening purple rays of Eira’s spear gathered his attention, and he also saw the onrush of Leones. That warrior was coming at him when that glowing shaft lifted into the air. Grasped by its hastening owner, two weapons were now coming towards armored Parcus. He did not dodge them, rather, he suddenly created a circle of white runes around himself with a flash of his burning eyes. Vainly the two spirits attempted to strike him, and two potent blasts of immaculate light shocked them with anguish. A new threat then approached that god, for from the ground massive vines broke through the street, spawned by the magic of Draer. Knowing not to chance fire, he jumped from wall to wall, avoiding the stone breaking drive of the tentacles. After a few crossing bounds, he threw a lance of light from his palm at the focussed spell caster. The beam struck her below the neck and she was hurtled into a wall, about to be broken. The giant plants she had summoned died and became dust within a moment.

Returning to the ground he was accosted with these words from the seemingly distant Goddess, “You have waited too long. I will now show you what I have not just been readying now, but what I have destined for you since you talked to me under Nordrassil. This tactic saved my people once, and now I call upon the spirits of the world to save them again! I will lend them all the extra energy they need, and the dragons will confirm them with their fiery might!” Her silver armor dispersed into mana, and so much force exited from her that for a brief instant she no longer looked like an Elven goddess, but had that ancient look of Jovos’s black haired daughter, who left him and his wife so long ago. From the totems the Sentinels had lain an innumerable host of green whisps climbed into the air, and they took on a purple tint as Elune’e grace filled them.

The Tempter, meanwhile, had already begun to grapple with the massive dragon. The two bit and clawed, but the skin of neither was torn in that floating match. Alexstraza, however, soon felt weighed down with the compounding shadows which constantly blew from Galthaur’s seemingly impenetrable flesh. At last, with a spinning blow from the enemy’s tale, the Queen was unable to recover herself onto the winds, and she slowly came to a rest on the ground. The Tempter roared victoriously, and he then noticed the clouds of spirits, which had taken on a tinge of every dragon flight’s color. His eyes saw the grinning faces which were restrained by his black webs, and he soon found himself surrounded by the glowing orbs. Flying high over Teldrassil, they exploded in a gigantic wave of light, that engulfed the shouting Tempter. Down below, Parcus looked filled with disbelief, and Elune smiled.

Yet, after the boom subsided, a dark shape broke through the smoke. Galthaur, his wings tattered, and his flesh ripped off in many locations, awkwardly descended with eyes blazing in hate. Seemingly unable to guide himself properly, he broke through branches and landed staggerly next to Teldrassil’s tall trunk. Falling back a little, he touched his mangled fingers to the tree, whose seal then began to fade. He stumbled forward the druids’ temple, and his many wounds caused wavering growls to pass from his jaws. The dark webs on the dragons had begun to feel lighter as his focus centered fully upon Elune, who stood distantly from a shocked god.

[Inquisistor7]

Aiming for his white chest, she again produced her bow, creating an arrow that surged with divine power. With his brother wracked with horrific pain, Parcus charged with black lightning thundering around his hands. Teleporting from under the rubble of a shattered wall, Draer appeared around his thighs. He noticed her just as Leones dove at his head and Eira wrapped her arms around his shoulder and side. Sable bolts flowed all over them as the three tackled the Crown’s enforcer into an excruciating heap. Parcus would not stop the arrow.

Elune drew her missile and released it. Cutting through all shadow, that bolt of light pierced that transformed god’s chest, which fissured with a great howl. Recoiling in pain, the Tempter was rent with internal flame. Divine power broke through his armor, and he shrieked in agony as the spiraling lights entwined his body. He reached for the Goddess with his shattering hand, and in a low moan his eyes cracked. A pillar of bright light ascended into the sky, causing shadows everywhere to lengthen. The roaring monster broke into dust that disintegrated among the light, and as the column dispersed the name of a love lost long ago seemed to drift on the winds.

All those in that mound of spirits had watched that occur, but Parcus did not shed any tears. His dark power threw the hardly conscious beings off of himself, and he ran through the dimming lights towards that tree, whose bark and leaves were beginning to decay without Galthaur’s draining but supporting spell. The armor around the enforcer’s forearms vanished to reveal emerald markings. Forming shapes with his fingers and hands, he also chanted prayers to the One on high and to the Crown. Elune, her Elven visage no longer able to persevere, ran after, knowing that if she at least delayed his difficult spell that the dragons could come soon to aid her. Her bow became her sword, and she came close to the completely destroyed portal of the druids’ temple. She knew, as he neared the dying tree, that he would have to stop soon.

The winged allies of the moon were raising into the air, when the black bonds that were smearing off of them suddenly tightened. Elsewhere, shadows leapt from the rocks of the annihilated sanctuary, suppressing Elune in serpentine shade. Alexstraza, meanwhile, attempted to send forth a blast, but the sable restraints closed her mouth, causing smoke to rush out of her nostrils. Terra collected herself from among the scales, but some loose chains of obsidian that had hung around the low winds clutched her body, and she found herself immobilized.

A sword, its hilt adorned with a bloody sphere, was held up to Elune’s neck. The shadow- melding form of Galthaur used his shifting cloak to restrain the battle weary Goddess. “You didn’t really believe,” he said as his body took a more definite shape, “that I could be defeated here?” He pressed himself tightly against her as he pleasantly stated these words, “Now watch as my dear brother brings back a good friend.”

Parcus brought his folded hands upwards to his chest as he came to a stop. The green lines on his skin collected into a sphere of green light at his fingertips, and he pleadingly shouted, “Oh great Jovos and pure Iuna! the Creator benignly allows you to fulfill my supplication, and now I beg of you to please send forth your daughter, Lorellia! Bless us once more with her sacred presence so that our duty may be completed!” A rain of falling light came through Telrdassil’s leaves, like a shower of crystal, and the pulsating orb around Parcus’s hands moved forward and formed into the emerald silhouette of a tall woman. The divine rain and fateful winds surrounded the green shade. Finally, in a shimmering coalescence, Lorellia returned to this world, floating softly in the air.

Tears filled the waves of Galthaur’s misty eyes. He held the mortified moon even tighter as he watched her step upon the winds. Her long golden hair, and the long streams of silk that clad her shining skin brought back infinite memories. Meanwhile, Elune’s gray lights were shaking with sorrow and dread. Her soul trembled in mourning and love.

Lorellia laid her palms on Teldrassil, and her eyelids lowered just before opening wide. Restored life and power entered that tree, and its branches stretched with newfound glory that sweetly burst forth in an aura of light. The darkness around the dragons withdrew, and Galthaur let go of the Goddess. The mission was complete. The brothers backed away from the sisters’ joining path.

The long sought visitor lowered to the ground, and she walked towards her dear sister. Elune approached, and the two embraced.

***

Alexstraza took wing and those hundreds with her bore themselves onto the winds. As they, shamed with defeat, soared they separated according to flight, and over various lands that lofty group dissipated. In the meantime, in the northern region of foul Darkshore, Staghelm looked up from a grave dug during a dreary night. A calling within his soul echoed, and he beheld the great Queen high in the clouds. His mind joyously recognized the cause of the growing pull in his soul: “The dragons had restored Teldrassil!” He fell to his knee and cried, “Praised be Elune!”

***

Standing a few feet away from Elune, Lorellia spoke these words to her quivering sister, “Do not fear. For though this must come, you do not have to depart from the hearts of your people. It is necessary for them to gain the power of this tree. Truly, they will be utterly lost unless you remain by their side.”

Bowing her head, she sobbed and said, “Farewell.” Elune turned and walked back to her congregating comrades. The Patroness of the Elves saw the saddened faces, and she looked upon the crestfallen features of Terra who slowly arrived. Coming among them, she again took on her violet flesh, and said, “We will persevere.” With that she and her company vanished into the confines of the Temple of the Moon, which seemed draped in the shadow of Telrdassil.

The Sentinels all over the globe felt a call akin to that of Elune, and those who had marched through Darnassus’s streets again entered the city to see the towering glory of the new World Tree. Tyrande, entering in secret, and the other priestesses felt a persuasive whisper draw them towards that lunar sanctuary.

Lorellia placed her hands around Galthaur’s face, and they joined lips. She then left on a heaven-bound wind in particles of light, like a petal laden breeze, and very much like the departure a recurring dream. Parcus walked up to his brother, whose tears rolled from his eyes. That duo finally returned to the lofty palace of the gods.

The holy ones looked down upon all of this from on high, and they were well pleased.

[Inquisistor7]

So, yeah, that is the end. I realize that I could write more about this "world" of Warcraft, but I don't think this an appropriate time nor thread. I will be persuing new tales and listening intently to faint songs of the Muse. Anyway, if anyone has any comments, questions, complaints, critiques, condemnations, praises, encouragement, disparagement, etc., then please voice them. I am would particularly love to see what people's thoughts were on the content of the story, id est, characters they liked, themes they saw, etc.

If anyone wants, I can explain what I was trying to do with certain things as well as my general and specific intentions for the story. If, however, people wish to form their own interpretations free from my two cents, then please say so.

Also, I would like to thank all of you for reading. I would especially like to thank those who have replied and given me feedback. I am most appreciative. This was my first fan fic, and I think that if it were not for the encouragement of the posters here (especially Bullroarer and Flak), then I might have ceased. Many thanks.

[KillAllZerg]

I am sorry to see this story end. :g vsad: You are a great writer, perhapes even better than Bullroarer (plz don't kill me Bull...). There was so much action in your story, and it contained a well developed plot with lots of twists and turns. I hope there will be a squel to this, as I would like to see the final battle between the Night Elves and The Horde.

[Flak]

YOU SUCK! Um...yeah. That ending....gah!

*cries*

Well, it's well written as ususal, but I can't say I'm content...





...and she never did get her scene that I requested. :lol:

[Inquisistor7]

I am sorry to see this story end. :g vsad: You are a great writer, perhapes even better than Bullroarer (plz don't kill me Bull...). There was so much action in your story, and it contained a well developed plot with lots of twists and turns. I hope there will be a squel to this, as I would like to see the final battle between the Night Elves and The Horde.

Thank you, but you give me too much praise. I can harldy say that I am better than Bull. Anyway, I hope to write a sequel sometime in the future, but not for a long while. As for the Horde and Night Elves, well we shall see.


YOU SUCK! Um...yeah. That ending....gah!

*cries*

Well, it's well written as ususal, but I can't say I'm content...


I appreciate your reading and replies, Flak. I am sorry that the ending doesn't please you, but hope springs eternal for future enjoyment.


...and she never did get her scene that I requested.

That is for the director's cut... ;)

Again, thanks to everyone for their support.

[KillAllZerg]

Thank you, but you give me too much praise.


Hardly too much. Infact, you deserve more than I gave you sexy, sexy girl. :g laugh:

[Flak]

Hardly too much. Infact, you deserve more than I gave you sexy, sexy girl. :g laugh:

...*blinks* Check the Central Thread, dude. Inq's a guy.

Link. (http://war3forum.worldofwar.net/showthread.php?t=29583)

[Inquisistor7]

We were just joking around in that thread. Also, this is very off-topic. Please confine discussions in this thread to Auctoritas Deorum related comments. And no, I do not consider talking about my gender Auctoritas related.

Yes, as a mod I agree with this course of action. So no more talk of this, here.
-Flak

[HiPPiE]

I like this one. Have you written anything of your own? I mean non-FF?

[Webbicles]

i heartily agree with you flak and inquiz. but don't bring up the subject yourselves either, and get us all curious.

Webb

[Inquisistor7]

I like this one. Have you written anything of your own? I mean non-FF?

No, I am afraid my fiction writing has been confined to fan fiction. And I am glad you enjoyed it.

i heartily agree with you flak and inquiz. but don't bring up the subject yourselves either, and get us all curious.

Very well. Oh, webb, sorry I haven't been able to read space wars as of late, but I will get around to reading and responding as soon as I can.