Thunder clapped over the war-ravaged valley while lightningstrikes danced among each other. Smoke billowed from the two keeps, and the sounds of blades clashing and men dying rang out constantly.
Warsong Gulch.
The Tauren hunter stepped out onto the rampart, his loyal savannah huntress beside him. His hulking form was covered in soot from the burning wood, and his blood seeped out from the many wounds he had received. Below him, the Horde was being forced back into the keep, as the Humans, Night Elves, Dwarves and Gnomes of the Alliance pressed forward, determined to force their enemies out of the valley. He could see his traps going off along the perimeter, igniting those unlucky enough to trigger them.
And yet, he could sense something was not right, that the Alliance had already penetrated the keep. It was at the edge of his consciousness, a nagging worry that was making itself more and more apparent. Yet all his senses told him that every living member of the Alliance was engaged with the Horde defenders below.
He turned, and rushed back into the main chamber of the keep.
The smoke was everywhere, stinging his eyes and the eyes of his pet. Through the blackness he saw a form leap from the second floor and rush into the main chamber. The minimal guards screamed as they were cut down, and then the mighty horn bellowed out its wailing call over the battlefield. The Tauren leaped off the balcony and readied his axe, only to see a Night Elf holding the Horde banner. The Elf smirked at him, then raised her hand and transformed into a black panther like cat, much like his own pet. The Elf took off, circling back up to the second floor, and making her way out onto the rampart.
The Tauren was not far behind.
He was the only one near enough to attack, the rest were oblivious, completely focused on keeping the Alliance out, even though they had failed. The hunter focused and doused some of his limited mana on the Night Elf, and a bright red aura surrounded her.
He chased her from the Horde keep to the Alliance keep, losing her in the twisting hallways several times, but finally cornered her on the keep's roof. With nowhere to go, and the burning keep becoming more unstable by the second, the Night Elf shifted from her animal form, and drew her weapon. Below the Horde and Alliance forces clashed in what would be the ultimate battle, as the two leaders met in combat above them.
The Night Elf struck first, flinging herself at him. Her spiked mace bit deep into his flesh, and he struck back, flinging her against the far wall. His pet leapt on her, clawing, biting, and roaring, until the mace crushed the skull in. The Elf pushed the dead weight off of her, and engaged the Tauren again, trying to take advantage of his shock at the death of his pet.
It was a short-lived attack.
The hunter brought his hoof down, putting as much weight and energy as he could into it. The shockwave knocked the Elf to the floor, and he bought his axe down. His blade bit deep hungry for Her flesh. Blue blood erupted from her mouth, but the Elf did not die. Green light flashed from her hands, and she struck out with the mace again, forcing the Tauren back.
She scrambled back to her feet just as the keep began to collapse into itself.
The battle intensified, as the Alliance forces were slowly pushed back towards what was left of their keep, and the Tauren and Night Elf collided. Blade sliced open flesh, spike and steel bit through fur and splintered bone. Lighting flashed above as thunder rumbled constantly, drowning out all other noise. The two danced across the weakening wood and stone, silhouetted by the great fire threatening to consume them both.
And then it was over.
The hunter threw down his axe and grabbed for the Horde banner, which had been dropped moments earlier. The Elf swung, missed, and the Tauren knocked her flat to the floor. He pressed her down with his hoof, and he saw the fear in her eyes as he raised the banner into the storm filled sky. The lightning lit the sky as the Tauren, the Warchief chosen leader of the Warsong Horde, brought the banner down through the Night Elf's heart.
Then the roof collapsed beneath him, and he plunged into the inferno.
The storm finally quieted the burning valley, as the Horde finished off the Alliance survivors. Smoke and ash turned to sludge as the rainstorm finally began. Fire calmed and died, embers faded into nothing. The Horde keep, while damaged beyond use, still stood on its rise, lording over the valley, and the charred ruins of the Alliance keep.
They had won.
But the Horde warriors, what was left of them, were not filled with a sense of victory. Their leader was dead, the banner destroyed, their keep unusable. The lumber mill was gone, and their number was reduced to less than thirteen. If the Alliance were to come back to the valley, it could not be held.
But something stirred beneath the ruins of the Alliance keep, and a large fist, holding a banner decorated in red and gold, rose into the air.
The Tauren hunter lived.