Of Claws and Totems

Chapter 21

Shamans

Blackheart was having a hard time figuring out just how they were going to get out of this. There were hundreds upon hundreds of orcs coming for them. These, however, weren't charging blindly but were marching steadily across the field. It gave them more time to prepare but… it also meant that they were much better trained. Either way, something needed to be done quickly, but even he didn't know of a good plan for this.

"Alright, warriors form up in front of our bottleneck. Glaive operators, get those things loaded. Archers, get in position next to the glaives." As the night elves ran to comply, Blackheart idly picked up a discarded shield and wondered how they could hope to defeat these foes. There were no tricks to be used, no host of draenei to come charging in to save them this time. Just a hundred or so night elves, a worgen, and a draenei against what looked like six hundred orcs.

He turned to the shaman next to him. "Kalara… how much have you recovered?"

In response she opened her palm and a flame sprung up in it with very little difficulty. "Like I said, it seems the more that I use it, the better and easier it gets. I almost feel up to the level I was before the tornado… but it feels like I've become stronger than that somehow."

He nodded, thinking his plan might work, and if not… well he would figure that out when the time came. "Do you remember when you turned your skin to stone?"

She nodded, curling up her fist and concentrating for a moment before she punched the shield Blackheart was holding, putting a sizeable dent into it he dropped it, returning it to its former discarded glory.

"Is there any way you can do that for… ten, maybe twenty people at a time?"

She frowned, thinking about it for a minute. "Usually I can do it because of the totems that I carry with me. Let me think about it for a moment and I'll see what I can do."

When she wandered off, obviously deep in thought, Blackheart made his way over to Synthiana who was helping with the glaive throwers. "How does it look?"

She had just finished helping to hoist one of the massive glaives onto the end of a thrower and stepped back as it was loaded in place, turning as it was pulled down to the base and the firing mechanism came taught. "We have enough glaives for two full volleys, after that we're out."

"How well can your people aim them?" He asked, admiring the engineering that must have went into creating such a war machine.

"You just tell me where you want them, and that's where we'll put them."

He nodded before responding. "Alright then, I'll trust you to that. I don't want them fired immediately. Wait until my signal and fire as close over our heads as you can without killing us in the process. Think you can do that?"

She nodded. "Yes sir. I'm not much of a commander, but I'm a dead shot with anything ranged."

"Excellent. They'll be here soon. I have one more thing for you to do: can you find me the twenty best fighters you have?"

She took off at a trot and returned to Blackheart as he made it back to where they would meet the oncoming orcs. She had with her twenty night elf warriors as well as Kalara. The shaman walked over to him and at his glance she nodded. "I can do it for twenty or so, maybe one or two more, but they will have to stay very close. I won't be able to move while doing it either and I don't know how long I can keep it up."

Blackheart smiled at the good news. "That's all that I need. Just keep it up as long as you can."

One of the warriors asked, "What is it you wish of us?"

"This," he said, indicating the draenei next to him, "is Kalara. She's going to keep us alive as we hold the front line and stop the initial rush. She will make it so, for as long as she can hold out, you will not be injured." The assembled warriors murmured amongst themselves, but gave Blackheart the trust he had earned during the first attack. "Let's go, they're almost here."

The group of warriors, Blackheart, and Kalara walked to the end of the choke point they had created. Kalara kept her eyes on Blackheart's back, trying not to look at the gruesome sight of the bodies piled high on either side of them. As they stopped near the edge, Kalara raised her hands in front of her and concentrated, calling for the earth to aid her. Getting the elements to do her bidding had become significantly easier, and it seemed now that the element powers were flowing forth in a greater amount than they were before. It was almost as if channeling the massive amount of energy the day before, while it had left her drained, had increased her abilities and also made it easier to use the magic, now that she was recovered at least. In barely any time at all, the earth had raised up a pedestal to meet her hands. She took out her small earth totem and sat it on the pedestal before concentrating on her spell. Soon a slight ring could be seen in the earth, with her at the center. It was more than large enough to hold all of the elves and Blackheart.

She turned to them, still focusing on drawing out the earth's power, and said, "So long as you stand in this ring, and I don't collapse, your skin will be like stone. Be careful, you aren't invincible, but you'll be much harder to kill."

As Blackheart stepped into the circle he could feel a tightness about his skin. Using a claw he testing his arm and, sure enough, he wasn't able to pierce his skin. He looked about at the others and they noticed it too. A few had pulled out small daggers and watched with amazement as they drew them across their palms without being hurt.

Drawing his claymore, he stood a few paces inside the edge of the circle and planted it in the ground and turned to address the rest of the group. "They'll be here in under a minute. We are going to hold the line, right here, until they all lay dead or retreat, understand? The rest of you that aren't on the front line, form up behind us and wait to switch out with whoever is tired, or to stop the orcs if they break through, and whatever you do, don't cross this line!"

When they were all assembled, there was not much to do aside from wait. Soon the orcs would be upon them, and Blackheart hoped Kalara would be able to hold up. The mass of orcs was still steadily marching; he could hear the great beats of a war drum coming from somewhere in the rear of their line. In no time at all they were close enough that Blackheart could see all the details of them, from the oversized bottom canines to the creases in their armor, their faces were painted in war paint and a few of them carried a standard with a wolf on it… how ironic. Still as they approached, he and the rest of the night elves remained standing.

Leading them was an orc that seemed to have been in charge. He stood at least a head taller than the rest of them, and was saying something in Orcish. He had war paint of a different color than the rest of them, and carried the largest axe that Blackheart had ever seen; it rested across one shoulder as he walked. He was missing his left eye, and Blackheart hoped that, if it came to it, he could use that as an advantage. He also seemed to be amused at Blackheart and his defenders, all standing nearly at ease in a line before him. Blackheart hoped to wipe that grin off his face.

At an order from the leader orc, the entire procession stopped. He saw the second row of orcs string the short bows that they carried and knew what was coming next. "Stand firm!" he shouted, praying that Kalara's enchantment was working. He heard a command bellowed in Orcish and, as one, the front line of orcs went down on one knee and the line behind, all armed with bows, let fly.

Blackheart could hear the sharp intakes of breath as the night elves heard the twang of bows, but their courage never faltered; they all stayed standing as the arrows came flying in… and ricocheted off of their bare skin. They felt the impact of course, but the arrows themselves did no damage to them. In response, Blackheart took his sword and held it above his head before spitting out the loudest roar he was capable of. It had the desired effect: the leader stopped smiling and the group that had came at them looked much, much more uncertain of what they were about to do.

The orc leader gave a second, similar command and the archers volleyed again, this time Blackheart and many of the other night elves bared their chests or shook their weapons, easily taking and deflecting the arrows while they let loose cries of battle. Once the third volley came and went harmlessly, Blackheart called over his shoulder to Kalara. "How are you holding up?"

She gave him a wicked grin. "I haven't even broken a sweat yet."

"Well, just make sure that YOU don't get hit by an arrow and keep it up."

"Take some down for me, Furball."

He turned back to face the commanding orc who now seemed furious that his initial tactic hadn't worked. With a roar of outrage, he pulled out two throwing axes and threw them, one after the other at Blackheart. The first one he let strike him in the chest, smirking as it bounced off harmlessly. The second one he caught in mid air, rared back, and launched it at the leader who dodged it. The orc behind him wasn't so lucky, letting out a grunt and looking down to see a throwing axe buried in his chest before he collapsed.

Seeing one of their own die was too much for the rest of the orcs. With a roar they charged Blackheart's line, streaming around the commander who was still staring at Blackheart with rage and disbelief. The line of Blackheart's warriors took up their weapons, planted their feet, and prepared to meet the charge.

The orcs were at fifteen paces, then ten, and then they were crashing into his line and chaos broke loose. It was like a tidal wave of orcs had struck upon the shore of defenders and was trying to wash them away. The initial rush had pushed them back a step, but they hadn't been pushed past that. Total carnage surrounded Blackheart as the night elves cut down the orcs in overwhelming numbers while the orcs couldn't seem to harm them. The defenders very skin turned away blows that should have cut them down. When a short break in the fight presented itself to Blackheart, he yelled, "Archers, volley!" Barely over the top of his head came a volley of arrows, cutting down the unprepared orcs that were four and five ranks behind the front line. The smell of blood and death that permeated the air… this was something familiar to Blackheart. Not flying through the air in a ship or giant tornadoes that could rip trees out of the ground. Pure and simple combat was what he could excel at.

And excel at it he did, cutting down enough orcs that he had to start standing on top of him. Lucky for him, the claws on his toes were able to find hold in the bodies of the orcs under him. Unlucky for the orcs climbing up to him, they had poor footing. The next that came up to him, a particularly ugly one with scars crossing his face and arms, swung a mighty hammer, trying to take his feet out from under him… but the worgen suddenly wasn't there. The orc looked around confused before looking up to see Blackheart coming down from his vertical leap, his large claymore leading the way. The orc put up his hammer's handle to block, but that did little to slow his descent as the combined weight of Blackheart and his claymore cut through the hammer, the orcs head, and lodged in the collar bone.

He was still struggling to dislodge the sword when he saw the commanding orc walk slowly towards him. When he got within striking range he hoisted his axe and made a powerful sideways chop at Blackheart's head. Even with the stoneskin, that could easily break his neck from the force of it. A few of the warriors around him had already been replaced where a hammer or axe had hit them in the head, knocking them unconscious. As the axe came in, he ducked under it and uppercutted the flat side of the massive blade with his fist, sending it high before lashing out with his foot and catching the orc in the chest, sending him tumbling down the hill. Giving one final tug, his sword popped free, splattering him with gore.

He held his sword up in the air then and bellowed "glaives!" before chopping it down. True to Synthiana's word, he felt the glaive whistle just over his head as it descended into the mass, chopping down any orc unlucky enough to come into contact with it. Even with each glaive that cleared the line taking down a large number of orcs, there seemed to be no end to them. Next to him he saw a night elf cry out in pain as a dagger stabbed into his thigh. He turned to look at Kalara; she was covered in sweat. Blearily she said, "I can't keep this up much longer…"

When he turned back, the commander orc was there, smiling at him with a feral grin. He knew now that the defenders could be harmed. Things were about to get worse. Behind the commanding orc, he saw another orc wearing what looked to be a wolf pelt. At the commander's nod, the shaman raised his hand and, before Blackheart could dodge, sent out a blast of frost that struck him in the chest and sent him hurtling backwards. Seeing this, the commander orc raised his axe over his head, issued a bellow and charged up the bodies of his fallen comrades. He and the orc shaman went over the bodies, hoping to break through the line, but only those two made it. The orcs that attempted to follow were cut off as night elves quickly took up the position and effectively closed them in.

Blackheart knew almost immediately what had happened. He had been hit with a frost shock much like that before, when Kalara had accidentally struck him with one. This one wasn't as powerful as the one Kalara had hit him with, but it was still painful nonetheless. It chilled his chest to the bone and it was hard to breathe, as if his insides were freezing up. Kalara, still intent on the earth totem, didn't have the concentration to heal him and keep up the defensive enchantment. As the worgen struggled to stand, the two orcs approached him. Luckily, Blackheart had retained hold of his sword and he brought it up into a defensive position as he tried to regain his breath.

The lead orc, Rognar, didn't waste any time pressing his advantage, and soon it was all Blackheart could do to keep up with the furious axe swings from his opponent. His vision was starting to dim and he was seeing black spots; his lungs felt like ice and they just would not work. He was looking for something that would level the playing field… something to give him at least a moment's breath. When he looked behind the axe wielding orc to see the shaman fire off a bolt of lightning at Kalara, he didn't need to look any further to find strength. A wave of anger coursed through him at seeing someone attack Kalara, quickly replacing the black dots clouding his vision with a haze of red. Whether the tightness in his chest was gone or not, it wasn't affecting him anymore. With his new found strength he was easily parrying the blows from Rognar, and was now pushing back with his own offense.

Kalara had been so focused on trying to keep up the stone skin enchantment that she had only barely registered Blackheart being knocked down when a lightning bolt struck the pillar of earth in front of her, knocking her totem away and breaking the enchantment. As she ducked behind the pillar, she could hear more bolts of lightning strike it, as well as the night elves dying because they were no longer protected from the hordes or orcs. She needed to take care of this shaman, and fast. Before she could attack though, she sensed a gathering of elemental energies in her opponent. Knowing what was coming, she quickly rolled away from the pillar of earth moments before a great blob of lava engulfed it and the area she had previously occupied.

Sparing a glance at Blackheart to make sure he was ok, and from the way the orc he was fighting was now on the defensive she assumed he was just fine, she stared down her opponent and prepared to fight. She had never fought a shaman before. She knew from her shaman teacher though that, while most fights between spell casters such as mages and warlocks required a degree of cunning to anticipate and then counter the spells being used, fights between shamans were simpler. The very nature of their relationship to the elements allowed them to know what their opponent was doing at basically all times, and a duel between them nearly always resorted to the brute strength of their elemental masteries This gave Kalara hope; while she wasn't particularly cunning, when it came to strength of elements she was very, very strong. Even though she had only stopped channeling the stone skin enchantment a few moments ago she felt refreshed and nearly back up to full strength.

The orc shaman threw his hand forward and sent out a shock of frost at her, much like the one that had hit Blackheart. Acting on her instincts to guide her she let her hand be engulfed in flames as it was drawn upwards then she slashed down and to the side, batting the ball of ice away from her easily, feeling none of its iciness and very little of its impact. She was surprised at how easy that had been and, from the look on the orc's face, so was he. The shaman went for another fire attack next, sweeping his hands from his waist to over his head. As he did the motion, a large blob of fire and magma erupted from the ground. He then snapped his hands forward towards Kalara and the molten blob did the same, surging towards her. Again she let instinct guide her, this time delving into earth to counter the fire. With one hand she punched upwards, upper cutting wither her fist while the earth followed her motions, forming a small wall that stopped the lava. The next motion she made she flattened her hand and swung it down, and the wall that had stopped the lava now buried it in the ground where it could do no harm.

Furious, the orc unleashed his final attack: lightning. This was it, the final exchange; this was the true test of their strengths. The orc took a wide stance and put both his hands forward, calling all of his energy to bear. He would unleash a continuous arc of lightning and soon they would see which of them was the strongest.

The words of Master Tuluun rang in her brain, and for a moment she recalled a much younger version of herself being instructed by the old broken. "Most shaman against shaman battles result in a contest of strength, of brute force, and nothing is easier to channel your energy into that lightning. Lightning represents a primal fury that all things can respect. When it comes down to it, all you have to do is throw as much lightning as hard as you can at your opponent. If you're stronger, you win. It's as simple as that."

She mimicked the orc then, taking a wide, strong stance and at the same instant they unleashed the lightning they had been storing up. The arcs from both sides met in the middle with a thunderous crash, causing the fighting all around them to pause and watch for a few moments before returning to battle. It wasn't every day that you saw two shamans tethered to each other by channels of lightning.

When the energy of their attacks met, the orc smiled in triumph as he exerted himself to the limit. He had been in shamanistic duels before with other orcs and knew that when it came to this, you had to go as hard and as fast as possible from the start. His revelry in the fact that his opponent was inexperienced increased as the meeting point of their lightning got closer and closer to her. Soon it would be over, and he could turn his attention to that pesky worgen that was battling his commander. He watched as it moved closer… closer… yes, there it was, he was now channeling energy straight into the palm of the draenei's hand… but something was wrong. She wasn't convulsing from muscle spasms or screaming in pain. When he looked up at her face, he knew how overmatched he was. The shaman wasn't in pain at all… she was smiling at him. That wasn't good. She moved one hand away and was holding all of his energy at bay with only the other hand… this also was not good. He saw her eyes spark with electricity… that definitely wasn't normal and, he assumed, not a good sign either. He could see arcs of electricity running the length of her body, coalescing in her free hand. She stretched that hand towards him and, following a flash of light, it seemed as if he was instantly looking from her face up into the rapidly darkening clouds, and then he knew no more.

After the explosive end to the shaman's duel Rognar knew he was in trouble. The savage offensive that the worgen was putting on him, now with his eyes glowing a violent, angry red, was becoming too much to bear. The only thing he was thankful for was that the wide powerful swings were big and telegraphed, which meant easy to predict.

The orc waited for a big swing, biding his time and completely on the defensive now. He was parrying and dodging, pushing himself to the limits. Finally, such a large swing came in from the worgen that he saw his opportunity to attack. Aiming his axe just right he swung with all his might and struck the blade of Blackheart's claymore just above the grip, wrenching it from the worgen's hands and leaving him weaponless. Rognar shouted in triumph thinking that he could finally overrun his opponent. He stepped forward and let loose a huge, tree cutting type of swing. Instead of retreating though, the worgen charged forward inside the swing of the axe and grabbed the hilt of the weapon, stopping the attack. Rognar took a firmer grip thinking to push the worgen away with brute force. When he pushed against Blackheart, he was surprised that it was his own feet that slid backwards. Pushing against the worgen had about as much effect as pushing against a large boulder. He could hear the worgen growling and, slowly, he felt Blackheart's true strength come out: he was being forced down to the ground. His legs were groaning in protest at the sheer amount of pressure that the beast in front of him was putting on him. He could see the worgen's snarling face, very close to his own, and in Blackheart's angry red eyes he saw only death.

Rognar's legs finally gave out, and he stumbled, fell, and was now on his back trying his best to keep the worgen at bay. The worgen leaned in closer, his jaws parting and still emitting that feral growl. He knew what was going to happen, and hoped that he would die quickly from the lack of throat he was about to experience. As he looked up at the sky, everything started to grow dark. At first he thought it must have happened already, that he was laying on the field dying, but then the worgen released some of the pressure on him. The orc looked up to see Blackheart looking around, confused, and he knew that something else was going on… but the sky was still nearly pitch black in the middle of the day. To his great surprise the worgen released him of the pressure then stood, transfixed on something in the distance. He almost took advantage of the lapse in his foe's concentration, but when the sounds of battle also died away he knew something more important than taking down his opponent was happening. He stood and turned around, looking over the mound of corpses and understood what had calmed the battlefield so.

A few hundred paces away, over the middle of his group of orcs, the clouds were swirling into a vortex above them, blotting out the sun. The temperature was rising as well, and he thought he could smell… sulfur. That was odd. He heard a low muttering in common and looked to see the draenei latched onto the worgen's arm, a look of fear across her face. After what she had done to his shaman, if she feared something after taking him down then something bad was definitely about to happen. His common was a bit rusty, but she finally said something that he did understand.

"It's coming."

And come it did; a mighty vortex of fire dropped from the sky, scouring the earth where it struck of all life, including the orcs unfortunate enough to be standing there. Those at ground zero were the luckiest, dying on impact. The ones that were a little ways further off were not so lucky. Rognar could see those orcs running from the site, bursting into flames as if their very flesh was flammable, and he could hear the screams of the dying. The rest of the horde scattered away from the area, some fleeing back towards their camp, the others surging towards the night elves who, to his surprise, let them pass. When the fiery storm receded into the clouds, it left several creatures standing at the sight of impact amid the smoking remains of the fallen. They were very tall and looked like fiery, demonic naga. Most of the mortals around him, orcs and night elves both, knew what they were just from their appearance. They were flamewakers… Ragnaros' servants. This did not bode well at all.

In a magically amplified voice that, when heard, seemed to carry heat with it, the one in the center pronounced, "Behold lowly beings! Ragnaros the Firelord has risen… and today all of Azeroth shall know his fury!" Once his proclamation had finished, he held the staff he was carrying aloft and the other flamewakers with him did the same. Beams shot from their staffs to meet above the group, and bright red sphere started to form. Once they completed the sphere, the fiery vortex came crashing back on top of them and when it receded, only the sphere remained. It was roughly the size of an orc… but it was growing. Within moments it was taller and wider than a house, and that's when it opened.

As if red curtains were drawn aside, the sphere became a portal and a host of fire elementals poured out, leaving trails of flame behind them as they attacked the nearest orcs. They were easily slaughtering them, consuming them in flames.

He turned to Kalara then. "How do we fight these things?"

"Aim for their bracers, or whatever it is that binds them to this plane. They can't exist here without being bound."

Rognar was transfixed, looking at his orcs trying to attack the fire elementals. For the most part, their weapons just passed through the fire before the elemental consumed them. He felt himself being shaken and looked to see the worgen getting his attention. "Do you speak common?" it asked. He nodded. "Tell them to hit the bracers, or whatever isn't made of fire." And with that the worgen had reclaimed his sword and was charging towards the portal, his shaman and the rest of the night elves in tow. This was definitely bigger than Horde against Alliance. Taking up his battle axe, Rognar was close behind the worgen, gathering up orcs as he went and telling them how to take down the elementals.

Blackheart made his way through the still retreating orcs until he met the first fire elemental. The heat coming off the thing was intense and he was glad for the fur that stood between his skin and it. Letting loose a roar he charged, sword raised, at the elemental. It stopped and seemed to patiently wait for him, even spreading its arms wide so that Blackheart could have a free strike at its chest. When Blackheart was close enough to attack though, he planted his foot, pivoted, and brought all of his weight with his sword down, not upon its chest, but upon the large bracer on its arm. The elemental saw what was happening and tried to move… but it was too late. The sword cleaved the bracer in two and with an angry howl the elemental seemed to spin around a few times, shrinking as it did, before finally disappearing.

At the death of one of their own, the invasion slowed slightly as they took a new respect for the worgen. At the same time, a war cry came from orcs and night elves alike as they waded in, striking at the bracers while trying to avoid being consumed by the fiery bodies of the elementals. Kalara and Blackheart went in at a tandem fury, cutting a swath through the elementals. They were too slow for Blackheart as he worked quickly to cut their bracers off. Kalara took a different approach, unleashing her powerful array of elemental magic upon them and destroying them completely. Most devastating was her ability to shock their bracers with frost which froze the elementals in place, allowing the orcs and night elves to easily cut them down.

After a few minutes of fighting, the tide seemed to be turning. The orcs that were on the other side of the portal had learned the tactic to kill them and now, instead of a surprise attack, the elementals were besieged on all sides. The sheer number of combatants that the elementals had to face was forcing them back to the portal. Within the hour, with the exception of a few pockets of resistance, the elementals had been decimated. Soon, only the portal remained, a great fiery sphere that was too hot too approach. Both orcs and night elves had taken heavy casualties fighting the elementals, but they seemed to be gone at last.

"Can you close that thing?" Blackheart asked Kalara.

She looked at the huge portal doubtfully. "I don't know… maybe. I've never closed a portal before…"

"You'd never stopped a magical tornado or brought someone back from the dead before either." Blackheart said, laying a slightly charred hand on her shoulder. "You seemed to do just fine there."

Sighing, she absentmindedly healed his hand, watching as the blisters recessed into the skin and the hair grew back. "True, I suppose I'll ask the elementals for…" She was interrupted by a near deafening roar that shook the very earth.

There was silence following the roar as the host of enemies turned allies stood, waiting to see what was next. Something appeared out of the portal, standing as tall as Blackheart. It appeared as though a huge blob of lava and rocks had been plopped down on the ground. Another set of lava and rocks appeared a few paces across from it, floating through the air out of the portal. This time though, as it continued forward and more came out from the portal Blackheart saw that it was not just a stack of lava… it was the bottom part of a leg. As the leg stepped out, the body of the largest creature, next to Deathwing, Blackheart had ever seen stepped out of the portal. It stood to its full height, at least thirty feet tall, an elemental composed of lava, rocks, and pure fire with a roughly humanoid shape. Once it exited the portal it let loose another roar.

He looked to Kalara, who was still staring up at the thing. The only thing she could say pretty well summed up what he was thinking. "Oh bloody hell."