Chapter 14: Victory or Death
Darkeye saw the bright arching flash.
Darkeye put two fingers in his mouth and whistled aloud. Mercenaries, already armed and clad for battle, mounted steeds and beasts, the air rang with the unsheathing of weapons. The battle was about to begin it seemed. Darkeye counted on relatively few opponents, so this had to be a lightning assault. He felt a short pulse of malicious hunger from Shadowmourne through the spellcloth. Darkeye ignored it, raised his black-edged claymore its blue jeweled pommel biting into his arm, the sun glinted off the red carved patterns and carvings on the bevelled edges.
Darkeye gave the command to move forward and spurred Eldrazaku into a running gallop, as the entire company followed him.
Kulldor examined the dead murloc. A barb protruded from its side. The protruding tip looked broken and the thing itself was hollow. Poison barbs. Kulldor nodded at Gwendolyn to be wary, but she missed the gesturing order. Her eyes were focused on something farther down the Misty Reed Strand, towards the southern end.
Kulldor looked in the direction and saw what she had been looking at. A small outpost was in that direction. There were orcs strewn about. Kulldor understood. The swampy smell had masked it before when he should have easily recognized the stench. A group of crocolisks had been splashing about when they passed and now the reason was all too evident. One of the crocolisks did a death roll and tore off a large chunk.
Kulldor looked away as Gwendolyn lifted her bandana and dry vomited to his side.
Kulldor strode forward, heedless. The crocolisks were feeding and were now little threat. Gwendolyn hesitantly followed him.
Kulldor checked an orc body clad in leathers, pincushioned with feathered arrows. The orc's arms were limply clutching a pair of daggers.
"Looks like that watch tower you wanted to build here would have to wait huh Tok'Kar? Maybe if they'd put it up sooner you'd still be alive…" Kulldor closed the orc's eyes with two thick fingers. And, then a light flashed through the trees.
Kulldor looked up and Gwendolyn said, "They've found the naga!"
Krasus paced. The messenger had arrived bearing a message. Sporadic naga attacks had been reported in many of the coastal towns. Even in the Alliance port town of Valgarde there was an attack. It was fortuitious that there was a ship full of newly arrived adventurers that helped turn the creatures away.
Auberdine harbour however was not as lucky. They were rebuilding now, but a couple of buildings had burned down, and not a few people had died.
"It makes a nice argument for the recently-departed Lord Malygos' insane endeavour does it not?"
Krasus brow knotted. "Funny. Whose side are you on anyway Variel?" The young dragon evidently didn't like being in a different shape but it was required for what he was supposed to do in the coming days. Strange that it gave him a drier sense of humor than he'd already had.
"Our side, my sire; which is to say my own and yours. I was merely pointing out that had the night elves of old not tampered with magic, causing the Sundering and become the Naga…" Variel shrugged as if it explained everything.
"Of all the… It's not as simple as that. We should give thought to WHY the Naga are suddenly so active with Illidan dead-"
"-And why the attacks seemed to be coordinated to occur at near the same time?" Variel said raising an eyebrow.
Krasus actually grinned this time, his spiked collar lending him a slightly intimidating air. The young dragon might be a pragmatist but his mind was sharp. Right now, Krasus might say that Variel was more suited to a priest or paladin role and not a mage.
"Yes. That. Regarding your departure however, I suggest you take stock of all your supplies before you leave on this assignment. You are a representative of the Kirin Tor and the red dragonflight and even though this venture is far from official business, it wouldn't do well to shift out of your current elven form to travel or hunt as we are won't to do."
"As I have been informed Lord Krasus." Variel bowed, dropping his gaze.
"You may go. Mention to no one what we've discussed here except to who you're supposed to assist. The general public must be kept from such knowledge as long as we still have a chance of controlling the situation. Ask HIM to head to Darnassus."
The eavesdropper wards vanished from the wall with a hum, the light suffusing the door fading in relation. The people walking outside could be heard as the magic wore off.
Variel raised the hood of his Bloodmage's Regalia and exited, his mage blade bleeding arcane light.
Tagar's left arm shivered and shook from the venom, hardly gripping his axe. There was only one of the damnable beasts left and he was sure that he'd be able to dispatch this lone creature. The wound on its hind leg was slowing it down considerably with a limp that fouled its fluid gait.
Tagar gave a roar and charged, the snap dragon spat more venom globules while doing the same. Tagar let them hit the stylized skull on the axe cheek and jumped up.
The snap dragon skidded to a stop and looked skyward just in time to catch the arcanite reaper full in the face as Tagar had thrown it downwards. The snap dragon yelped and fell limply where it stood. Tagar, landing on his paralyzed arm, rolled painfully to avoid damaging himself even more. Tagar felt the venom seeping in, making more of his muscles feel lethargic, and with the bloody carcasses next to him, it was reasonable to note the crocolisks might find him sooner rather than later.
Tagar forced himself to sit up and grabbed a buttress root for support. He shakily snatched up his pack and dug out a small potion skin of druidic brew. Tagar felt the effect almost immediately, like blood rewarming his numb limb, bringing feeling back into it. Tagar waited and flexed his fingers until he could feel them fully. He then picked up his fallen reaper, and pulled the other out of the last snap dragon's skull.
He smiled as a short, bright flash illuminated the sky and headed toward it. His heart filled with a smug satisfaction as he heard lumbering shapes come out of the water and begin tearing at the dead snap dragons.
Ril'zin pulled his sword out of the slimy neck muscles of one of the myrmidons. Goth'mog's bear was doing great at swatting away the arrows and getting hit in equal quantity, seemingly unaffected by the poisons on the barbs. Garkkil had kept firing and firing at the serpents until an arrow had struck his hand. Fortunately, going straight through, it didn't deliver enough poison to make it harmful. It did however stop him from firing any more bolts. Even more dire, Garkkil was also stopped from wielding the one-handed daggers that he favored effectively, and the situation forced him to improvise a broken crate panel for a shield; getting hit again and not getting poisoned was a lucky event that was unlikely to happen again soon.
Ril'zin focused his strike and threw, his glaive sailed swiftly and severed the arm of an accompanying sorceress. The foul siren wailed her pain, dropping a barnacle-encrusted staff, her long scaly tail flailing. Ril'zin caught the blade deftly as it returned. Still, more of the serpents came; the dead tallied ten or more of the vile snakes. Many of the four armed females hurled bolts of magic or shot bows from behind the trees.
A shielded male naga slithered under cover, a wickedly barbed spear in one hand and the two orcs focused their fire on it to pin the attack where it was. Ril'zin looked down at his brother who was still wheezing breaths through his throat, past the arrow that was still buried deep in it. The area around it had turned from the natural lavender of trollskin into a pus-filled gangrene. Ril'zin hoped that the poison hadn't reached a critical point in his brother's body.
The rogue was suddenly thankful for his brother being a dire troll. His size as well as the innate regenerative abilities of their kind was keeping it at bay. A trapper's net flew through the air and fell on the shielded Garkkil and Goth'mog. A team of naga began pulling them in.
Ril'zin raised his arm again to throw, but another net fell on him and pulled him from his feet making him drop the glaive. Ril'zin heard Goth'mog's bear roar of agony as it was netted by the naga, but instead of pulling the animal away the naga charged at it and mercilessly stabbed at it with their spears. Goth'mog roared in outrage while dragging on the ground.
Ril'zin stopped struggling once the net had taken him. He knew well enough that these types of nets were designed to be more entangled the more the prey struggled. He could also feel the enchantments on the twined ropes of the net, telling him it couldn't simply be cut. Ril'zin held his blades as best he could so that at the moment of opening he could-
A shadow passed over the tree line. Ril'zin hadn't noticed it before due to the desperate defence but now-
Several naga lit up in blue elemental energy, as electricity lanced through them bouncing from each one; a ragged burn hole showing on the chest of the nearest warrior. Ril'zin couldn't help but laugh aloud and the two orcs whooped in their nets. The main attack had come.
Eldrazaku flew low and then turned an aerial corkscrew, letting Darkeye decapitate a large male naga before levelling out. Eldrazaku landed on a bow-wielding naga siren, tearing into her with savage claws and silencing her high-pitched cries as the drake bit into her throat and tore it out. Darkeye dismounted and sliced the naga nearest him, sinking deep in azure scales. He was constantly pressured to disregard the dark whisperings and launch a death coil at the naga archers. There were at least sixty left.
The charge clove the naga forces apart. The near equal numbers meant that the two halves could not flank the wedged forces of Darkeye. Within the formation, the two shamans, Sharaa and Rogash, fired off arcs of lightning and druids smote with the wrath of nature in arcing orbs of energy. Lucas and the human priest Felrondor cast bolts of light and shadow at the serpents. In a genius manoeuvre, Felrondor created discord in the left flank using a Fear spell that sent the naga running, heedless of their defence, straight into the blades of the other mercenaries. The man deserved a bonus for that one Darkeye thought. Even enough numbers on both sides and the factor of surprise raised the odds in their favour by a landslide.
If his timing was right, the other part of the scouting elements along with Kulldor would be providing a fusillade of ranged fire from the flanks after seeing the flash of light.
"BROTHER LUCAS", he shouted over the din of battle, "SEE TO ZAL'ZAKK! I'M GOING TO FREE RIL'ZIN AND THE OTHERS!"
He saw the undead priest's eyes flash ghost light in understanding and he was off.
Brother… The smarmy devil had the temerity to call him Brother. Lucas could bear calling the elf Captain, even knowing what Gregor had told him; even knowing that the elf had been partly responsible for the havoc on his beloved Lordaeron.
Lucas could remember the burning of Alonsus chapel: the once-bastion of the Holy Light in Straholme, along with the innocents that either burned with the city, or died screaming their loved ones names. He decided he'd rather be mindless Scourge again than be in tolerance of brotherhood. It was just too bad that the elf was also undead now, otherwise Lucas could slip him Plague infused food or drink. And his Death Knight's body, seemingly frozen in time and not gruesomely rotting towards doom as a feral ghoul, didn't help matters either. Lucas supposed it could be part envy, but then again he envied anyone who still had the ability to breathe.
Nevertheless, he shambled over to the dire troll. What Lucas wouldn't give for a strong body and self-healing abilities like these. What wouldn't he give? Lucas thought of something as he stared at the unconscious form of the oversized hunter. The hunter's pet Devilsaur lay by his side looking at the body.
He pulled the arrow out, the material for the tip was crumbly and seemed to be like coral, it made the poison more effective he supposed; quickly staunching the bleeding while marvelling as the troll's flesh knitted quicker than others he'd seen. He tipped a vial of nostrums down the unconscious troll's throat, careful to avoid the long elephantine tusks. It ought to cure the poisons used by the naga to coat their arrows.
Lucas then opened his spellbook and whispered the incantation for Mind Control.
Yes his claymore is a Voldrethar, the Dark Blade of Oblivion. I realize it might not count as a claymore due to its shape but let's just pass over that okay? :D