Now that all my tests are over, i have finally managed to write up this new chapter. Thank you for the reviews, and please leave more.
Chapter 3
She made no noise as she padded through the trees. She left no footprints in the soft blanket of snow that embraced the earth. The blizzard had broken after a day of anger and furious winds, and so she was finally able to finish what she and her troops had started. She would finally kill the blood elf.
Evangel Moonbeam had plenty of time reflect on the prior day's battle as she moved silently through the woods.
She had been handpicked by Commander Whisperwind and given command of an elite platoon. She was given only one order: destroy what few pockets of blood elf life that remained in the Eastern Kingdom. So, she and her unit moved through the lands, remorselessly slaughtering what they could find.
In the past year, the Alliance had gradually been gaining the upper hand in the seemingly never ending war. And with the threat of the Horde lessened, the night elves had finally decided they could spare enough troops to crush their mortal enemies.
A chill suddenly brushed over Evangel's body. Corruption was thick in the air, a sign of the blood elf. Only his weakness could give her such a terrible feel in the pit of her gut. She had told her squad to wait at the village and have a good time; she wanted to take this blood elf alone. Her hand stroked a deep gash on her cheek, freshly exposed skin slimy against her finger.
Sungrass had scarred her with his dark arcane. Still when she touched the wound, she could feel the black magic tingle her fingers. Elves are notoriously vain creatures, and even as a Sentinel she couldn't help but become infuriated at the thought of the scar on her beauty. She wanted to kill him for what he'd done. His death was hers and hers alone.
She came upon a cabin, most likely one of the Horde's many outposts in the Tirisfal Glades. Thick corruption covered the grounds like a disgusting veil. Sungrass was close.
Focusing, Evangel allowed herself to change. The pigments in her skin subtly melted into darkness, as did her long green hair. She became invisible to all but the most noticeable of creatures. She become one with the night.
Evangel first padded to the cabin's window and peaked inside. Yes! There was the blood elf: wretched, weak abomination. Completely oblivious to the death that gazed at him through the glass. He wasn't alone though. He was talking with an undead. Strange, but no matter. She'd kill them both. They were both monsters.
Next, the night elf moved around the house in search of a back door. There was no point in taking unnecessary risks after all: if her enemies had numbers, she'd need surprise. She would slip in and shock the undead and drive her rapier through his cold, black heart. And then she'd take her time with the blood elf.
She ceased her intense concentration when she reached the cabin's blind side, and was about to burst inside when she heard silent foot falls that rivaled her own. She turned, sword held and swung. Blades clanged and locked. As the butt of a second dagger struck her jaw she cried out in pain. Her vision spun beneath her as she struck the warm earth. "Fuck," she muttered in pain.
Evangel was bound in a chair with leather belts, her hands tied tightly behind her back and an arrow aimed point blank at her head. There were three residents in the cabin aside from herself. A troll that held the bow at her head, an undead that took a seat before her, and the blood elf that leaned against the wall.
"Sungrass," she muttered.
"Moonbeam," the blood elf nodded.
"Why aren't I dead?" she demanded.
"Because," interrupted the Forsaken. "I want to know what you know. This will be much easier if you simply tell me all that you know. You elves have stronger minds than most other creatures, I'd prefer to save my strength. Course, if you refuse, I'll let Aloos do what ever he wants with you."
Evangel looked at the troll that held the bow. Behind tusks, his lips curled into a smile, his eyes beady and black. "What do you want to know?" she swallowed.
"Why is the Alliance attacking their own comrades?"
The night elf laughed loudly. "Comrades? We haven't been allied with those weak sons of bitches for years. Those bloods, those feeble little fucks who betrayed us for naga, they deserve to die just like you."
"We didn't betray the Alliance," Shaak snapped. "You betrayed us. You sent us on suicide missions. You told us to guard useless posts against impossible odds. Lady Vashj offered my people the help that the Alliance refused to give. We were crushed that we accepted but did it to survive. You left us no choice."
"You pathetic, weak little bastard. Your kind gave into magic, your addictions. At least the High Elves continue to fight against it. You deserve what you all got."
The blood elf snatched Evangel's rapier from a table, unsheathed the blade, and moved to slay the night elf. Eck drew his staff and swept the blood elf's legs, knocking him to the ground. Shaak attempted to get to his feet, but Eck thrust his stick to the blood elf's throat. "Not yet," the undead said solemnly.
The blood elf muttered a curse in his native tongue and moved to leave the cabin.
"Where are you going?" Eck asked.
"If I stay, I'll kill her, and apparently that won't suit your needs."
"Apparently ye haven't grasped da concept of being a prisoner, mon," the troll snickered.
"Where will I go?" Shaak demanded. "The Alliance will kill me on sight. I have no town to run to, no allies to seek sanctuary."
"Fine," Eck said. "But we're keeping this," he said, taking Shaak's wand. "And if you do choose to run, we will find you."
Out in the woods, the air was clear. Shaak didn't walk far, he didn't have to, just until his sharp ears no longer heard the night elf's voice. Many, many years ago, before the Scourge swept across the lands and the blood elves were still high elves, he had known Evangel Moonbeam. After the Scourge's invasion, they met again as allies. Dare he say: friends. And now they were rivals, and by the end of the night she would be dead. That's just how the world worked, he guessed.
Shaak removed a small crystal from a pouch on his belt. It glowed magnificently bright green against his pail skin. The blood elf took a deep breath as he sucked the magic contained in the gem into his body to satisfy a biting urge for the arcane. When the color had faded, he dropped the stone to the ground and drew the rapier from his belt.
He wasn't an excellent duelist, few blood elves are. His kind generally preferred the use of magic to fight, rather than physical methods. On that front, he was exceptional: possessing skills of the magi that few could match.
Shaak took a deep breath as he practiced sidestepping invisible opponents, moving slowly as not to clumsily trip over his own feet. He tried twirling the blade in his wrist and then made quick precise stabs into the air. He decided he did indeed have some skill: elven agility and keen senses. With training, perhaps he could learn to fight with a blade as well as he dueled with magic.
Shaak quickly found the practice boring however and allowed his mind to wander away, and he began to think of the events of the past day. Despite the suicide missions and impossible duties and overshadowing prejudice, Shaak had never thought of the Alliance as enemies, just not close friends. He had been proud to work alongside them against the Scourge and didn't hate them for imprisoning Kael'thas. They were simply afraid of him and his kind, he often told himself, and they had every right to be. His people were dangerous. Blood elves had an insatiable craving for magic, and all consuming lust that would devour them whole if they didn't satisfy it constantly. His kind had succumb to this addiction, as opposed to the High Elves who trained constantly to keep their obsessions under control. A good amount of the time, the blood elves scared themselves.
The Horde weren't the one who'd betrayed him and his people. They weren't the ones who'd allowed their fears to lead to genocide. They weren't the ones who'd marched into a civilian town and slaughtered the residence without warning. The Horde had spared him. A tauren and an orc were risking their lives by moving through dangerous woods to look for survivors in his massacred town.
Shaak lifted his rapier and struck the air.
Meanwhile, in the cabin, Aloos held the bow steadily at the night elf's head. Muscles were taught from strain, but he didn't show it, he couldn't show weakness. He hated elves. There were a few exceptions: elves he genuinely cared for, and he had taken some to bed based on physical attraction, but the crimes they'd committed against his kind could never be forgiven. This particular elf was the enemy, and at a moments notice, he would take her life without remorse.
"Just explain one thing elf," Eck said calmly, "Then you die. Instead of slaughtering the bloods, why not try to help them? Why not teach them your druid magic as an alternative to the arcane and demons? Why abandon them in their time of need?"
"Why not?" Evangel asked calmly. "They're weak, backstabbing abominations. They betrayed us, and if you let them he'll betray you."
Eck sighed. "When we joined the Horde, it was out of desperation. We didn't feel any real loyalty to them, nor them to us. We were simply races with the misfortune of being shunned by the majority. But they showed us things: empathy, acceptance. They looked past the fact that we were monsters and gave us brotherhood. Such a pity you couldn't do the same."
Eck placed a palm on the night elf's breast and gently recited a spell. Evangel suddenly felt very tired and weak, so much so that her head bobbed down. Her breathe came slower and slower through her lungs until her chest ceased its movements. She tried to scream or even gasp for air but nothing could escape her lips. She died without a sound.