Somewhere in the lush forest of Elywnn
''Wouldn't be surprised if they got a coup' of archers. Whoresons like them never fight ya' head on. Their ancestors ought' to be ashamed I tell ya.''
The rasp voice of the dwarfen mercenary cut through the serene silence of the Elywnn forest like a thunder strike.
''Indeed. A head-on approach would be quite ... suboptimal. Alas, I'd advise the usage of an actual plan.''
Serving as a contrast to the stern voice of the Ironforge-born warrior, the voice of the young woman clothed in elegant violet robes seemed to be a constant back and forth between ice-cold logic and unbearable sarcasm. Pragmatic rationality and fiery sass in one package.
''... if you posses the mental capabilities to construct one, of course.''
Ah, there it is. Almost thought our little mage went soft on us.
''Shut ya mouth before I beat it up.''
Well, that reaction was to be expected. I should probably step in ...
Christoph swiftly brought his hand up while looking sternly at their female companion. For the two or three seconds - which felt more like an eternity - his eyes met hers, he managed to notice how the spell caster seemed to tense up almost immediately, more than likely mentally preparing another volley of rhetorical carnage, this time directed at himself. Luckily though for both him and his nerves, it appeared like she was content enough with letting this go.
I hate to say it but ... damn, she really is a stuck up bitch sometimes. Mages and their arrogance, right?
''Alright, that's enough Montmartem. Less those bandits catch wind of our discussions and ambush us. Light knows the two of you aren't exactly subtle. Now, a plan wouldn't be such a bad idea. Any ideas, Kharem?''
''Aye. We'll kill them bastards before' the kill us, eh?''
Great thinking Kharem.
The male human of the group just starred at the dwarf with visible confusion, unsure whether he should dare to say something or not. After a couple of seconds of unwelcome silence, Christoph merely managed to nod with his head once and began to form his lips into an uneasy smile.
''That's ... certainly a start.''
Kharem sighed wearily and raised his shield, starring at Christoph with visible annoyance.
''Lass, we'll obviously beat the light loving shit out of their archers first. Well ya and her will. I'll make sure they don't kill ya first. They and their littl' sword wielding friends.''
Right, that already sounds way better.
Christoph gave the dwarf a thorough look. Out of the three people here, he truly was the most suited for such a ... hands-on task. Armed with a heavy looking shield and a hammer to beat, the iron clad fighter would certainly be an obstacle that few could overcome. Not without many broken bones, of course. And if that doesn't work, there's always that fine piece of heavy plate armor he's currently wearing. Self made, according to the dwarf.
''Good. Do what you can. Miss Montmartem and I will try to deal with the ranged attackers as fast as we possibly can.''
Speaking of, he quickly steered his eyes over to their mage.
What an ''interesting'' individual she is.
Vevia was currently resting one of her hands on her hips, her long-ish purple fingernails barely visible on the fine textures of her purple robe. With her free hand she was holding on to her iron staff, its diamond tip subtly glowing with a blue hue.
Yeah. After all that time, magic is still making me uneasy. Considering what those demon bastards were able to do with it, back during the war.
Quickly trying to shake the dark memories of day's past away, Christoph decided to give his own equipment a quick check up.
With a rogue like smile he looked down to his trusty sword. Military issue. Sure, it was nothing special. The mercenary was certain that there are hundreds if not thousands of swords that not only would do the job better, he'd certainly look better with them aswell. He heard tales from his fellow comrades in arms that there are weapons out there that would put even the most talented weapon smiths to shame. Blades made out of pure fire. Axes with dark runes on them that could harvest your very soul. Guns as silent as the night and so on.
But this sword? It managed to see him through hell and high water. From the scourge to the legion and even those blasted green skins, this blade kept him alive again and again.
What a fine piece she is.
''Quite right. Obviously, I'll deal with them swiftly.''
Being brought back from his day dreaming by the mages sharp tongue, he unsheathed his weapon with a quick yet precise motion of his hand, ready to face what ever may come head on.
''Yeah girl. Go scar' em to death with that fancy dress of yours.''
''Silence peasant.''
Why did I agree to his again?
Well the gold didn't hurt, thought Christopher. It were difficult times for common folks like him. After he couldn't serve in the army anymore, he naturally lost his only income. And the only social environment. And perspectives and ... everything really.
Turns out, people that don't know you don't give a shit about some veteran begging for bread.
But at least he can still put his training to good use.
Some nobles always needed individuals with certain skills to ''fix'' their various problems for them.
This mission right now wasn't any different, after all. Everybody knew by now that the military is spread out thin across Stormwind and its regions. Some sort of renegade group is spreading mischief in Northshire and the local gnoll and kobold populations have grown exponentially problematic in recent times. In the ensuing chaos, many different criminal factions have risen to get their peace of the cake. And once those brigands began to negatively influence the coffers of the nobility there was a sudden interest by said lords to combat such threats.
That of course meant that even the nobility couldn't throw around the king-reagent's troops as they please. And if they didn't have enough meat shields of their own, well ...
That's were people like us come in.
One would just have to take a look at their current task to see what Christoph means: A local gang of raiders repeatedly attacked a couple of farmers up north. And with the harvest being of utmost importance during these times of strive, the lord of land hired the three of them to deal with it.
The plan was actually very simple: Follow them through the growth and the mud of the Elywnn Forest to their mountain-side hideout and ambush them once they let their guard down.
Kill them, collect some sort of proof and earn the gold. Nothing more, nothing less.
Well, there's no use in standing around. Time to get our move on.
''Are we all ready?''
''Aye lass.''
''Naturally.''
''Alright guys. I'll try to flank them while Vevia prepares her spells. Kharem be ready to charge into the fray once the action starts''
Christoph gave a quick nod to his two companions and pulled out his spyglass: two archers - longbows. A woman with some sort of two-handed blade. An elderly looking man carrying a shield and a mace. All of them near the entrance of their base. If you could call a cave a base anyways.
You'd think that they'd let their guard down once they're within the safety of their hideout. Well, at least we still have the element of surprise on our side. We'll probably be able to quickly take one or two down before Kharem starts his engagement. The rest should be easy.
The agile veteran gave his companions a hand sign and stealthy began to use the cover of the treelines to get within striking distance to his targets, his sword arm ready to attack at the first sign of trouble.
Dashing over the next rock only to hide behind the cover of the next tree, Christoph spared a quick glance over to the cave entrance.
Three, two, one ... and for some mere seconds, his eyes caught sight of a mysterious blue-violet light. After removing the hand he used to cover his eyes, the sneaking mercenary saw that one of the archers got replaced by a ...
A really, really fat pig. Huh, that's a first.
The experienced soldier pushed himself away from the tree with an extraordinary amount of haste and sprinted to the other archer with uncanny precision, delivering a fatal strike to the neck and penetrating his throat with lethal strength.
Grimacing after he had to listen to the sounds of a man who just had his throat pierced by cold steel, he swiftly turned around to prepare his assault on the other bandits.
Christoph stopped dead in his tracks when he was greeted by the sight of one angry and apparently very pissed of monster of a woman, her gigantic sword ready to strike at any moment. Next to the crude barbarian stood the shield carrying gentleman of fortune, his firm grip holding onto his deadly mace.
Where in light's name is that damn dwarf?! What's goin -
Yet the man had no time to finish his line of thought as he barely managed to escape certain death by blade as the enraged woman tried to cut his head off with a clean strike.
Always quick to counter Christoph used his blade to stab away at her body - only to make contact with the broad shield of the other bandit. The brigand used his means of protection to unleash a quick yet powerful bash, resulting into the sounds of broken bones being heard.
Fuck, there goes the nose. Fuck ... fuck. Where is everybody?!
With only his adrenaline and his agile feet keeping him alive, Christoph dashed back and raised his sword in front of his body, mentally and physically preparing himself to parry and counter the next attack. While trying to ignore the blood oozing out of his nose, his eyes wearily darted between the barbaric woman and the shield wearing menace, hoping to analyze who'll strike next.
Shield means he should be a tactical fellow. Precise. Careful. And that nether damned piece of woman seems to be rage personified. She'll probably be the first to engage.
Utilizing every tool of the trade, the mercenary faked his next attack, acting like he'd stab at the man's shield - only to change the direction of his blade at the last moment to try to slice away at the enraged female's shoulder.
His aim was true as he managed to create a deep cut upon his target's body.
''You fucking whoreson. I will tear you apart!''
Yet it seemed that the woman almost didn't recognize the blood coming out her or even the pain that such an attack should have logically produced. As a matter of fact, her rage was of such intensity that the bloodied warrior simply charged at Christoph, her boundless fury serving as both a powerful weapon and an unstoppable shield.
He honestly didn't know what is what that made him freeze during those two or three seconds. Perhaps it was the ghoulish screams of the frenzied woman. Maybe it merely was the pure unadulterated hatred reflected in her eyes. Or maybe he was just scared shitless of the maniac. Not like anyone could blame him, he thought.
What the ... what by the nether damned light?!
Her shoulder - the same shoulder he just thought crippled - smashed into the veteran like a boulder being thrown by an ogre. A very angry and ugly ogre.
Instantly, every particle of breath quickly and violently fled his lungs, leaving nothing but emptiness behind.
Between having his nose broken and now being the victim of an almost insane amount of kinetic energy, Christop could do nothing else than simply lying there and desperately grasping onto the last pieces of conscious he still had left.
In his crippled state he could barely make out a violet flash of light at the edge of the approaching darkness that would soon claim his mind. There was a loud scream - female? - that he could hear before the sound of his heartbeat was almost too much to bear.
Another voice. Close?
''Well, down he goes. End it quickly. I'll try to find that mage in the meantime.''
''Can't believe all of this fucking worked. Go find that welp and I'll deal with this one.''
The last thing Christoph heard were the eery sounds of the forest as the woman's blade pierced his torso, sending him into the abyss of nothingness.