A/N: Please note that this is of course Fan Fiction, therefore the events described would be slightly deviated from the orginal telling.
And nope, I in fact do not own warcraft or anything else I write about.
Chapter 5
Wayne DeLovely walked nimbly through the forest. The noise of battle and the silence of death were heard all around him. The heat of the high sun was beginning to become a strain on his wasting flesh, therefore he would try to stay in the shade of the large foliage trees.
He never stopped, always walking forward in search of bodies. Either Elf or Scourge, did not really matter to him, an undead slave soldier is an undead slave soldier no matter what origins happened to be previous. The Scourge was not much for discrimination. Though so far he had not come across an Elf body that was capable of resurrection, they had all been too badly mangled and eaten. Wayne had a strange desire in him to know an Elf, but he could not understand his thoughts as to why. He wanted so badly to kill one, then to understand it after it became undead.
During this walk he rarely came across anything else that was already alive, it was only other Scourge necromancers. Only the wordless, thoughtless moment of eye contact was enough to say that they needed to spread out and cover more ground. Very few necromancers were at the front, they were far too valuable to be set up as easy targets. Wayne turned his back on the necromancer he happened to come across and headed west.
It was in the following moments after this change of direction that Wayne should have died, or at least died again. As a tall solitary Elf burst out from the brush and darted directly at him, a long curved sword bent back to sweep of his head. What happened in the next moment suprised Wayne more than the charging Elf. In one quick movement, Wayne lifted and extended his left hand in a gesture of defense, but to the Elf, whose sword just began moving with the momentum of his swing, twisted backwards in shock and pain. The tall Elf tried to rise but could only sit on his knees as he clutched onto his lifeless arm and screamed loudly in pain, his sword lay on the ground inches away from his broken fingers.
Wayne stared down at him, unsure of what had happened. If his face was able to show the expression of shock, then inevitability it would have. The answer came to him as nearly everything else did now, through the voice in his mind. Then it dawned to him simply enough, it was bone magic. The ability of a highly skilled necromancer to affect and control the bones of any creature that has them.
Finally feeling engrossed and pleased with his ability, he next sought out his need to kill. The Elf sat there defenseless, his eyes remained tightly closed as he screamed and cursed in a language that Wayne had never heard. Small amounts of red blood escaped from different areas where the bone shot through the skin. The areas extending from his fingertips up towards his right collarbone. The shrill unabated screams wearing down the nerves still left in Wayne.
In a swift movement, Wayne stabbed his cursed knife through the back of his neck, the tip protruding out of the front. The noise ceased but the Elf did not die. Wayne pulled out his blade and the Elf fell foward, bleeding heavily and gasping for breath. The blood from his neck stained the ground for a wide distance before his frantic movements came to a halt. Satisfaction was Wayne's pet in those moments, as he loomed over the body of a dead enemy.
The motions of his wand and the incantations from his voice were not quite the same this time. For this time they were done with a level of joy that made even the voice in his mind joyous. Slowly, the Elf rose to his feet, but oddly did not run off towards the direction of the front, he only stood still and stared directly at Wayne. The Elf had a perplexed, painful look on his face, as well as a coat of anger, as he bent down to pick up his sword with his newly repaired arm. Wayne was not able to feel uneasy or threatened, so the mutual staring contest went on for quite some time.
Eventually Wayne pointed his bony fingers into the distance where all the other newly risen Scourge would run to. But the Elf would not move, he would only stare into his pale eyes, a visible bloodly hole in his throat, his sword held firmly in his hand, pointed downwards. Wayne felt himself compelled onwards, he turned his back to go on, the Elf followed him. Wayne would stop and the Elf would stop, Wayne would move and the Elf would move.
The more that Wayne would try to understand, the less discernable his thoughts would become. He simply grew accustomed to the light footsteps happening behind him. The further ahead that Wayne progressed, the more bodies he would come across. Vast areas of dead Scouge thickly covered in arrows.
A short distance away, a tumultuous sound was building. Wayne was unaffected as the noise grew and grew. He worked on rising the dead, and was quickly accompanied by several necromancers.
BOOOOM!
The sound was so incredibly jarring that everything rushed forward towards the source. Within moments Wayne came into a clearing in which a great gateway stood. The opening was utterly destroyed as limitless numbers of Scourge were rushing through onto the Elven defenders, who were beginning to break and run for their lives. All around the area lay massive piles of dead Scourge.
Wayne held back and watched the wave of ghouls swarm the remaining Elven positions. Their panic and courage fused together to hold onto their positions till the end. Within minutes the end had come for them, as there were no living Elves within Wayne's line of sight. It was no suprise to find fallen necromancers in the midst of other corpses. They could be raised easily as others, though their powers would normally fluctuate after death. As the saying goes, it is different for everybody.
This time many more hours were spent re-forming units. Only a few hours of daylight remained as all moved through the shattered gate. The Elf behind him remained steadly to his pace as Wayne raised the dead strewn across the forward path. And for the first time in either of his lives, Wayne felt a strange intagible affinity for company.
End of Chapter 5
