Chapter 15
Once again, Crys awoke from unconsciousness not completely sure of where he was or how badly he was injured. A groan heralded his slipping away from the arms of sleep, the rough and distant sounds of men talking and armor rattling made it very clear he slept not in his chambers. Battle with a banshee. Teleport spell off-target. Sarah.
Crys started, drawing a sharp inhalation as he propped himself up in the cot he was laying on. Tall, narrow windows lined the wall opposite him, the panes arranged in such a way that the symbol of the Church of the Light, two half –circles facing one another horizontally and bisected by a straight line, was set in the middle in red-tinted glass. Sunlight poured through the window, casting the mage of the Light's cross over him in a fuzzy red light. A quick scan of the room had a few off-duty footmen standing near the infirmary door, with the sounds of more moving about in the barracks proper. Daghmor was in the cot next to him, dressed in a rough woolen tunic dyed forest green and dun colored breeches, snoring soundly, his club held loosely in his hands which crossed his chest. The elf saw no bandages around where Dagh had taken hits from the banshees sonic attack, and surmised that he had actually been given magical healing.
More to the point, apparently so had he. He not in nearly as much pain as he anticipated he would be, not sporting a single stitch of linen bandage on him, a pleasant contrast to his previous two awakenings. The same black leggings as before still sat on his legs, but a new shirt, of sky blue silk, covered his chest. The guards must know every garment I own now, Crys thought to himself, less than comfortable with strangers rifling through his drawers to find something for the elf to wear after his previous garments ended up blood-soaked and torn. The elf checked his wounds. The cut on his head felt like a sore welt to his gently probing fingers, and shifting the shirt to the side showed the dagger wound in his shoulder was an angry red still, but unlikely to open again unless under extreme duress. Grimly, Crys regarded what remained of his severed small finger, no comforting and padded bandage hiding the stark truth of the matter from his eyes now.
So absorbed in taking in his environment as he was, Crys still heard the paladin's footsteps approaching before he appeared, dressed in the same rich blue tunic and saffron cloth vest, straight-legged black trousers and glossy black boots as he wore when they had "dropped" in on him. His expression was one of mild concern, his hands clasped behind him as he took up a position before their two cots.
" I trust you are feeling better than you did when we met earlier in the day, " Edward asked lightly, looking to the elf.
" I'm physically better than I have been in days, " Crys answered slowly, shifting his weight to lay on his side, " but I confess to being soul-sick of this endless stream of brutality and death. "
The paladin dipped his head in acknowledgement, the middle of his distinctive moustache twitching as his lips pursed at the thought of the burned and mutilated woman he and his fellow soldiers had found in the middle of the elf's chambers.
" It's been a rough week, on some more than others, I can't agree more. This pain is a cleansing one though, as the infection that is the cult behind this dies as well with more of its operatives in the ground. We'll beat them, " Edward assured the elf.
" That maid, Sarah. She was not one of them. She was controlled to do so, I had no choice but to…do what I did. She deserves a proper burial at the very least, " the warmage informed him sadly, picking a spot on the floor to stare at.
" I understand, " the holy warrior said softly. " I know of a little place just beyond the front gates before the soil gets too soggy. These small pink flowers grow there, and it is beautiful at sunset, with the light off of the water. "
" She would have liked that, " the elf choked, his tone grateful.
" There's also been a bit of a break in the case. We've finally managed to trace some of these cult members to a subterranean lair underneath several houses. How extensive these tunnels are we don't know as of yet, but this very evening I will personally lead an assault force down there and root out every last one of them. "
Crys brightened a bit when he heard this news, returning his gaze to the man to which he spoke. " It will be good to strike a harsh, even crippling blow against them. You will have my sword and my spells at your disposal when you go down there. "
Edward shook his head. " No, sir wizard. I understand your desire to make these cultists pay, but while on the road to recovery, you are far from in any condition to participate in an attack like this so soon. Its' been an awkward and bloody path, but I think you will be seeing the end of this investigation tonight, or by the beginning of the next week at the latest, depending on how things go tonight. "
Crys ground his teeth at having to sit out the most important and likely final operation against the cult he had been investigating for the past week, but also knew the paladin raised a very good point. His stomach churned even now, the mixture of Banenettle and mint still in his system would likely make his next few meals mild-flavored and light. He was merely less injured now, not healed. This didn't even consider the crippling mental wounds that the warmage had incurred as well, ones which Crys was careful to keep out of focus at this time.
" I understand. I will nevertheless like to go over the final details of this cult with you once the raid is finished, so I can submit a report to Governess Proudmoore to bring closure to the matter. "
Edward nodded. " I had suspected as much, though the Governess will be away for the next several days on an extended tour of the Alliance holdings in the area. She left the completion of this task to me in her absence, answerable only to the council. We will have plenty of time to collaborate and submit said report. "
Crys tried to keep the disappointment from his face. All of this trouble and he would be denied a reason to visit Jaina in person one more time. Perhaps it was better that way. He'd just trip over his words and stare awkwardly at her again.
" Speaking of reports, I have one to re-write, and a office to set back into order, " Edward commented as he turned to leave, a ghost of a smile on his face. " I shall leave you and the dwarf whom I am not entire certain is actually sleeping to your own devices, though I strongly recommend seeing the healer before you leave to be certain you are fit to leave the infirmary. Good eve, gentlemen. "
The paladin had barely slipped past the door frame when Daghmor's eyes popped open, shifting his arms around until they rested as his sides.
" Musta killed him a little inside to have to heal the likes of me, " the rogue observed dryly, a smile on his lips.
" You were awake the whole conversation? " the warmage asked, his face inquiring, but the sort of inquiring that knew the answer already.
" Most of it. If there was anything to be added I would have, but I was content to let a holier-than-thou choir boy like Eddy and a dainty, fainting elf like you chew the fat without my two coppers added in. "
Crys rolled his eyes and flopped onto his back, staring at the ceiling. Let it end tonight, he thought. The mage had seen too much blood and lives ended in his lifetime already, let alone the past several days. The fish merchant's funeral would be soon, if it hadn't happened already, his friends and family saying their last good-byes. The orc's traveling companions would be well on their way back home to Orgrimmar, their comrade buried in the red Barrens soil with a pile of rocks and his axe as a marker. Sharleste would still be picking up the pieces of her shattered life and figuring out what to tell her superiors when she finally returned to Darnassus. Crys didn't know how many would be attending Sarah's funeral, but as far as he knew she had no family here, like him. He would be there, at least.
" You thinking about that maid, lad? " the dwarf asked him quietly, gazing at the ceiling like it held a portent of the future as well.
" Yes. "
" I'll go with you to the funeral, if you'd like, " the rogue asked with a shrug.
" If you wish. You didn't really know her, but then I suppose I didn't either. "
Daghmor nodded. " One is a Nether-blasted, rotten number of people to attend a
funeral. "
" Couldn't agree more, friend. I couldn't agree more. "
How many people would attend his funeral, Crys wondered. Daghmor, if he was in Theramore at the time. A few of his contemporaries, there more to satisfy professional obligations than to mourn. A small honor guard of luckless footmen 'volunteered' for the task of carrying the coffin. Some words about how the Light gives and it takes, about his selfless service to the military, and then the dirt would fall.
By the Aspects I could use a drink, Crys sighed to himself.
Like a pot simmering over a fire, Golonda's anger waited, ready to explode. She was seated in a slouch atop a watch tower, the trap door leading to the top couldn't be opened short of breaking it apart after she had tampered with the hinges, so she was safe for the moment and afforded an excellent view of her surroundings, which included the barracks that the elf and dwarf were staying in. After enduring so much waiting and planning and set-backs the former Under-warden constantly shifted uncomfortably around, her body literally itching to act, to kill and be done with this all. There were too many guards in there now, even for her, and the pair she was supposed to assassinate were apparently good enough to survive two previous attempts, so she couldn't discount the threat they posed as well. Even fantasizing about creeping into Tyrande's bedchamber and making sure that she knew why she was about to die before flaying her beautiful skin while she screamed for her goddess to save her couldn't satisfy Golonda anymore.
The diversion she was planning on would have to wait until it was at least a little dark. She was rather conspicuous leaping from rooftop to rooftop in full daylight, and her presence might alert her prey, something which would complicate her mission greatly. Golonda shifted her injured foot, the slight pain there telling her that it wasn't fully healed yet, but was little more than a minor annoyance now. She had always been a fast healer. By the time she was halfway to night elf lands it would be little more than a small round scar. It would take some time to determine exactly where Tyrande now dwelled, and more time after that to find an opportunity to strike. Golonda wouldn't have minded it, though, because she was at last working on the last chapter in a story that had gone on too long already, one full of anguish and unfulfilled vengeance.
How would that story end, the tall elf asked herself suddenly. With the priestess dead and torn into a thousand crimson pieces, to be sure, but…after that? Golonda leaned her head against a stone crenellation, her white eyes glassy as her focus turned inwards. She had always fancied that she would then die to the guards who would eventually break down the door she had blocked and slay her on the spot in their righteous anger over the death of Tyrande. She would have fulfilled her duty then, like a crystal arrow that found its mark and destroyed itself upon impact as well. That was it? All of her training, her desire, her anger, and one death would be the climax of it all? Was that all she was; a bitter, used up automaton with only one goal and one possible end? Everything up to this point had been about getting to roughly where she was now, and while it was perhaps a bit premature to consider Tyrande as good as dead, it still begged the question.
Golonda shivered suddenly, drawing her legs up and hugging her body. She couldn't afford to lose her focus now, not now. She needed to complete her obligations to the Shadow Council and their puppet Suul before she could leave, then, each step north would help her put her mind back into focus. She was just tired, is all. Her path would become clear again after she was gone from this stinking human city. Aweldessa must be avenged. Their love must be purged of the dark shadow under which it had been destroyed, and only she could do it.
I miss you, Awel, Golonda silently mouthed, a single silvery tear breaking free of her glimmering white eyes.
Dusk. To be perfectly honest, Crys hadn't wanted to return to his chambers atop the wizard tower just yet. There was doubtlessly some unlucky cleaning staff in there now, scrubbing and otherwise removing the blood from his floors and anything else that was spattered with the now rust-brown fluid. A great many things had been spilled on that floor since he moved in there, but not blood prior to yesterday. The elf was glad he was important enough to warrant not having to clean up after himself in matters such as this, mopping at the grisly bits of gore on the stone and picking up tattered, singed bits of Sarah's dress from the floor. He would make sure that some extra coin made its way to those who had to straighten up, no doubt a disturbing task regardless if you knew what exactly had happened there or not.
The pair had waited in the infirmary simply because they wouldn't be able to lay down in a tavern. Daghmor didn't seem anxious to return to the tower either, and had snoozed through most of the afternoon. Now, however, the thought of lying on his back any more made his head hurt, and the wizard was getting hungry besides. His "uniform" had been brought for him, along with is short staff, minus a cloak. It was a warm day out and likely a humid evening, so even the lightest of additional coverings would have been close to unbearable. Dagh's donned his armor, not even patched up but with precious little alternative, grumbling that he'd have to buy a new set with some of the gold he would be getting from Crys.
The high elf had just taken up his staff when there was a ruckus from in the barracks proper, along with hastily shouted orders in what sounded like Edward voice. Curious, the two made their way out, down a short hallway and stood watching the chaos that had suddenly erupted in the normally orderly building. Footmen scrambled for their equipment while the paladin stood frowning and resolute in the middle, like a steel buoy in the midst of a sea of chaos. Picking their way through the throng with puzzled expression on their faces, the pair approached Strongshield, who barely noticed them as he berated those moving too slowly.
" Sir Strongshield, it seems like your raid is being a touch hastily put together, " Crys commented, concerned. The paladin looked sharply at him, his face registering insult that he would organize something so dangerous so sloppily.
" No raid, sir elf. Someone's set the Cannoneer's Yard ablaze, and if we don't get enough water on it soon, it's liable to destroy most of a city block and kill dozens! " he replied loudly as the barracks suddenly emptied out onto the street. Crys and Daghmor were shocked by the news, nearly having to jog to keep up with Edward as he moved towards the door as well.
" Is there some way we can aid in you in this? " the elf asked as they strode out into the small courtyard, now filled with mustered troops.
" I don't think so. I need soldiers who can follow orders right now, I fear you'd only be in the way. This is likely a diversionary tactic on behalf of the cult, they must have known about the raid before now and are giving themselves time to scatter. I'll be damned if it isn't working too, I've even had to pull entire crews of sailors off of patrol ships to help with this one, " Edward growled, leaving them standing by the reinforced doors of the barracks while he marched between the ranks of soldiers and ordered them to triple time it to the Yard, taking the lead, leaving Crys and Dagh alone in the marshalling square. There was definitely the smell of smoke in the evening air, and off to the south a massive grey plume churned into the darkening sky.
" Nasty business, " Daghmor snorted, shaking his head.
" This assignment may not be over as quickly as Edward had said back in the infirmary, " the elf postulated.
" Then there's still the business of… " the dwarven rogue began, looking to his companion and then his eyes growing wide as he saw something quite alarming somewhere past Crys. The wizard didn't have time to turn his head to look, however, because he was too busy being tripped by the dwarf's foot, which, not coincidently, allowed him to avoid the whirling blade that would have neatly separated his head from his shoulders. The errant moon glaive threw up a shower of spark as it skidded across the worn stones of the courtyard, then just as suddenly as it appeared it changed direction back towards the two, Dagh already ducking and the warmage's back just impacting the ground.
Crys struck the stonework street hard enough to jar his bones, but thankfully his reflexes were enough for him to avoid striking the back of his head. Falling unconscious would be an incredibly bad thing to do right now. Crys looked to his right, seeing the tall Kaldorei assassin standing atop the outer wall, her arm barely moving as the whirling bladed disk returned to its perch on her forearm.
" Her, " Dagh said finally, finishing off his previous sentence. Crys was already scrambling back to his feet, keeping low in case the weapon made another sweeping strike at the two of them.
" Unless I miss my guess, the cult set up the distraction so that she could have her time with us alone, " the warmage muttered.
" Let her come, I've been itching to put this murderous wench down since we encountered her. She's a key player in this whole cult things too, if she goes down, they lose a very valuable member, " Daghmor reasoned.
The two parties looked at one another for awhile, neither moving. The fire still raged off in the distance and the loud shouts of alarm and command sounded like one long moan as it drifted over the stone walls around them. With a high-pitched, feral cry the Kaldorei launched herself her from the wall towards them, releasing her moon glaive once again, in a vertical spin. Crys and Daghmor split, letting the blade passed between them, the wizard engaging his magic shield, and a split second later, was very glad he had. Mid-way on her trip to street level the elf sensed magic activate, and before he could blink roughly two score steel daggers were driving point first into his shield. They bounced and skidded off harmlessly, clattering against the stone around him, but his shield was now down, and she was far from out of tricks.
The assassin landed in a crouch, her cloak flowing down behind her like a dark banner, her hood falling back to reveal her silver-white hair and her pale eyes narrowed in concentration. Crys had his blade half-drawn when the night elf was suddenly right in front of him, screaming like a bird of prey as one of her long legs whipped around in a vicious downwards kick, aiming to send him to the ground at the very least. A combination of his magically enhanced boots and pure elven quickness let him slip by the full force of the blow, merely being clipped by her heel, though that alone made him stumble away. A large blue gem on her gauntlet caught Crys's attention as it began to glow, and a warning cry from Daghmor heralded the skipping noise of the deadly arcanite moon glaive returning to her possession.
Recovering his balance Crys sent out a freezing burst of ice from under him, the magical frost encasing the Kaldorei's legs from the shin down. The mage then threw out his right hand, fingers loosely splayed as a long tongue of fire lashed out at the now trapped assassin. Golonda was quite certain of her opponents next move ahead of time, however, and she threw her upper body backwards in a controlled arc, receiving her bladed weapon back and stopping her fall to the street with her other hand, ending up in a arched position. Crys's next spell was aborted as Golonda whipped herself back up into a stand, all the muscles in her body responding flawlessly to her mind's guidance, her right arm sweeping out in a cross-body motion, the glaive leaving its home on her forearm guard once again in a short ranged and precise stroke.
Crys would be damned to the Nether if he didn't think he was going to die right then, but his own clumsy feet, unused to fighting on cobbles, gave out from under him as they attempted some far more competent dodge in response to her latest attack. The blade passed closely enough by him for him to feel the wind pass over his face, his landing only a bit more graceful and controlled than his previous spill. Growling in anger at her slippery prey Golonda blinked forward ten paces as her moon glaive returned to its home on her right forearm, breaking free of the magical ice and putting some distance between her and the dwarf that was charging at her. This elf was half eel, half tumbling buffoon, making her task that much more difficult. She whirled to face the two of them, teeth bared in a snarl more suited for a wolf than a smooth-skinned, feminine face such as hers.
" She's a nimble thing, I'll give her that, " Daghmor spat, taking up a flanking position beside Crys as the mage once again climbed to his feet. He would hurt tomorrow, provided he survived the night.
There was a sort of faint whipping noise then and a crossbow bolt skidded past Golonda's feet, bringing all eyes to bear on one of the skeleton crew of footmen still present in the barracks, hastily reloading his weapon from a second storey arrow slit. The assassin didn't wait around for him to do so, though, breaking into a run for the nearest wall and with an inhuman leap, soared gracefully to the top. She spun around then, her voice harsh and angry as she spoke in Darnassian, addressing the two of them.
" I head for Theramore's walls now. I will kill anyone who crosses my path if you do not follow closely. We will finish this, the two of you and I, in a place with no distractions or interference. "
Then, she tipped backwards, falling off of the wall onto the Theramore street on the other side.
" I didn't mind the odds the way they were now, " the dwarf sneered at the departing Kaldorei, looking to Crys as to what to do next. The elf's blonde hair whipped around as he quickly scanned the area. A stable, a little behind the barracks.
" There! " the wizard gestured frantically, the pair racing towards the horses. It had been awhile since Crys had ridden, and even longer since it was bareback, but at least the horses still had reins and a bridle. The hollow, staccato noise of running hooves on stone soon filled the walled enclosure as the two urged their mounts on, Daghmor still clinging awkwardly to the side of the horse he had chosen, the steed obviously intended for human-sized riders.
A faint scream reached elf and dwarf as they rounded the corner of the wall to the alley which the assassin had landed, up ahead a young Theramore citizen crumpled to the street, her blood oozing out from the large, fatal wound she had bore across the torso from Golonda's razor sharp weapon. Crys scowled darkly at the casual disregard the Kaldorei had for life, kicking his horse faster as he charged down the alley. She had to be stopped, though the elf wasn't certain he would be able to do such a thing. The pair tore past a gathering group of townspeople who had witnessed the crime, calling for guards that wouldn't come. The night elf had taken to the roof tops again, easily keeping pace with the horses with her rapid, long-legged stride, short frost-hued hair tossing wildly about as she sped towards her destination. There was a grin on her face, as if she enjoyed every second of the battle, of the blood-letting, of the finale that was about to take place. Crys had wondered before if this assassin was insane or simply cold-hearted and callous. Now he had quite firmly decided that she was both. There was something that happened to her that made her this way, but Crys found he could muster no sympathy for her, and only the tiniest inkling of curiosity.
Crys clung tightly with his legs to his mount as the two of them split around a porter with a wheelbarrow of manure who couldn't pull to the side quickly enough, spilling his burden to the street as they rushed past him. Warning shouts kept most pedestrians from slowing their progress, but the few that were too lack-witted to move, plus having to follow the streets rather than move as the crow flies meant they could barely keep the assassin in view. The outer walls of Theramore grew ever larger, the fire and the majority of the city guard almost at the opposite end of the city, exactly the way Golonda wanted it.
She bounded up the stairs once she reached the wall, taking five at a time, the sound of hoof beats telling her that her pursuers weren't far behind. A guard, who had watched in stunned disbelief as she sped towards him, raised his loaded crossbow, eyes wide as she only grinned at him as the bolt took to the air. She simply ceased to exist, appearing behind him and with a casual toss of her right arm, cut upwards along his spine, causing him to drop like a puppet with its strings cut and tumble off the landing to the street below, leaving a crimson smear on the wall as he went.
Crys yanked on the reins a little too roughly to force the horse to a stop, the rearing steed almost tossing him before calming down enough to allow him to slip off. The guard lay in a crumpled heap nearby, his neck and limbs at awkward angles. The elf cursed under his breath, his anger clouding over his earlier apprehension. He would end this murderer's life, here and now. Daghmor landed with a tumble behind him, his dismount every bit as elegant as his mounting. Crys began to ascend the stairs, keeping an eye on the assassin at all times as she paused for them to catch up, waiting for them on the battlements. With a laugh like the chiming of tiny bells the assassin sent her moon glaive at them again, the two pressing themselves against the staircase to avoid its path.
" Come, fools! Ashenvale beckons me and I have waited far too long already! " she taunted, drawing the spinning disk back to her just in time to take a few light steps away from the uppermost stairs, ready for them.
The elven wizard slowed to a cautious pace as he made it to the top, staff in his left hand for a right-handed draw and right hand ready to either draw or work a spell into being at a moment's notice. Daghmor sidled up beside his taller partner, Matilda at the ready and eyes quickly sweeping over the area to pick out possible hazards or obstacles. The eastern sky was so dark blue as to be almost black, only a few recently lit torches, the dead guard's last duty, holding back the shadows. The west was an orange haze, sunlight and firelight mixing into an almost hellish composite. Below, the sea crashed and roared against the stones, the white froth of the waves barely perceptible against the looming night. No one moved, no one spoke.
The doubts that Golonda had experienced earlier were gone now, washed away by the giddy thrill of blood-letting, of doing what she did best. Here and now, like so many times before in so many different places, she stood on the very edge of life and death, every movement, every breath, every beat of her heart precious and tense with potential energy. They wanted to kill her, she knew that easily enough, could see it on their faces. She was a monster in their eyes, but as Golonda had learned back in the barrow prison, monsters frequently got what they wanted out of life, leaving everybody else broken and unfulfilled in their wake. Let Theramore experience the horror of this silver-haired monster before it is destroyed, and let its dying scream echo all the way to the shadowy boughs of the trees outside of Tyrande's home.
The night elf attacked suddenly, twirling her entire body around and putting the momentum of it into her right arm, sending her unstoppable disk at them both, looking to either shave the top few inches of the dwarf's skull off or sever the elf's right arm at the elbow. Golonda darted forward, still twirling gracefully towards them as she moved, teeth bared in a gleeful snarl. The dwarf ducked low and to the side, almost slipping over the edge, the top of the wall barely five feet across. The elf twisted his upper body around, drawing his right arm behind him, Golonda imagining his hand curling into a near fist as he prepared to throw a spell at her, likely fire.
There was something different to the elf now, his movements and expression were more focused, more controlled. Rather than drawing his hand back forward in a pushing motion, Crys moved the short staff in his left hand around until the top was behind him, continuing the path his right arm was on already. Grasping the top of the staff Crys drew the blade, rotating his entire body in much the same way the night elf was, the end result being his sword coming down at her in an over-head chop. Golonda's bracer moved up to parry that blow, blue sparks flying from the two metal surfaces as they struck. Her left hand, already formed into a fist, lashed out twice, striking the elf in the ribs sharply, followed closely by the assassin's left shin connecting solidly with the side of the mage's torso, forcing a choking gasp from him. The dwarf struck next, a blow he had been long anticipating striking her near her left kidney, sending a searing shock of pain all along her back. Golonda's left leg, without even returning to the ground, lashed out sideward, clipping the dwarf along the side of his face, forcing his eyes to water from the sharp strike to the cheek.
The former Under-warden blinked ahead, putting some distance between her and them while calling her blade back to her. Crys paused in pursuing her only long enough to send a volley of magical darts out, then rushing her with his blade held before him, dwarf in tow. Golonda swiveled her newly returned moon glaive in front of her like a bladed shield, deflecting the magical assault off the enchanted surface like rain drops off a tiled roof. As the elf and dwarf quickly closed the distance between her and them the night elf's left hand swept around and grasped the piece of her cloak where the hood and the drape met at the back of her neck. She tore the cloak free, whipping the voluminous length of cloth towards them, obscuring her from their site behind a billowing curtain of dark wool. " Dagh! Down! " Crys cried as he activated his shield once again and drew his sword protectively in front of him. He warning didn't come a moment too soon as another flurry of pointed steel daggers punched through the floating purple cloth, tearing numerous holes in the fabric before the entire thing was rent in two by the moon glaive slicing through. Her attack was well executed and would have devastated a small group of lightly armored troops, let alone two, the daggers pinging off of Crys's shield as they had before, but weakened it enough so the moon glaive could work to full effect. Crys had anticipated a killing strike to the upper chest and head, his sword drawn up in a cross guard position as the whirling disk struck, anything less than the fine steel that Crys had demanded his sword be made of would have shattered from the impact.
His parry sent the glaive skyward is a glimmering arc, the force of the blow still sending him reeling back several paces. Before the tattered bits of her cloak could even settle to the battlement Golonda was moving, low and quick. She slid to a stop with her right leg straight out, supporting herself with her left leg and her arms. Her heel connected with the elf's lower abdomen, blasting the wind out of him and forcing him to sprawl painfully against one of the cannon emplacements. Getting herself back to both feet the Kaldorei's left foot struck this time, but not at the elf. Her foot pulled back to create a flat striking surface from knee to the tip of her booted foot she aimed at the slow-moving dwarf's right temple, over his club which was coming in for a low sweep for her right knee. She struck a thunderous blow, but surprise and pain registered on her face rather than triumph. She withdrew her injured foot, hopping a bit to keep the weight off of it while Dagh, who had barely registered the fearsome blow, looked at her with a sly grin.
" You stick-thin little elves aren't the only ones with fancy magic tricks, " the rogue chuckled, giving his head a shake and advancing on her again.
The dwarf's skin was far darker than it had been just moments before, as rough-looking and stiff as granite. There was a deliberate slowness to his movements now as well, every bit as strong but slowed by the magic as ancient as the mountains themselves. Daghmor was never been terribly interested in the history of the Titans and the purpose they had originally given the dwarven race, but it was times like this that he was glad he had done a bit of soul-searching in his down time in jail cells to unlock this tiny bit of his heritage.
Utterly baffled by the dwarf's sudden resilience Golonda was forced to vault over another cannon to avoid the rogue's club, landing on her injured foot with a hiss of pain. She summoned her disk back to her, keeping it from falling over the edge of the wall and into the ocean below. 'If I can't break you then I guess I'll cut you,' the night elf reasoned to herself as the moon glaive slid home on her gauntlet. Unleashing the deadly weapon again with a whip of her arm Golonda aimed for the dwarf's head, his slowed movements and the short distance between the two of them would almost guarantee a successful strike. Once again the night elf was surprised as the dwarf tucked into a tight roll, the glaive skidding off the top of the rogue's boots, overcoming his current sluggish movements by letting momentum carry him into striking distance. He jabbed out with the tip of the club, striking Golonda's hip near the leg joint, causing the ligaments there to seize up with pain. She batted aside another strike, summoning her moon glaive back and taking a few short paces back to keep the dwarf out of striking distance.
The night elf flattened herself against the crenellated wall to avoid more white shards of magic streaking towards her from the recovered wizard. Her pulse pounding in her ears Golonda sized up the situation, which wasn't as tipped in her favor as she had initially thought it was. Or was it? Even in his stone-like state, the dwarf moved with a slight limp in his right leg, something she had noticed before but had forgotten in the rush of the conflict. The elven mage was breathing heavy now, the blows she had struck and his magic use sapping the energy from him. Formulating a hasty plan in her mind the night elf acted upon it, striking at the dwarf first. Knocking his club to the side with a back-handed sweep of her moon glaive she struck low and hard with her heel, her entire right leg ending up arrow-straight and vibrating from the force behind the kick. The blow caught the dwarf on the inside of his right leg, and while his skin was stone, his joints did not benefit from the ancient protective magic. Daghmor cried out in agony as the strike tore at his old wound, sinking down to his left knee, his concentration broken as the stone spell lifted from his body.
Grinning to herself as the dwarf's skin lightened she kicked his weapon off to the side with a clatter of wood, swinging the same foot around to strike him with the outer edge of her foot along the side of his head, the blow sending the dwarf to the battlement floor. An almost casual flick of her right arm sent her glaive at the elf to occupy him long enough to make sure the dwarf wouldn't be a threat for the rest of the battle. Reaching down Golonda grasped the rogue's right hand in an iron grip and pulled upwards until the fallen dwarf's torso lifted a few inches off the ground. Her right foot descended again, striking his armpit while she pulled, popping his arm out of joint and eliciting another pained scream. She had just enough time to drive her right heel against the back of Daghmor's head before she had to contend with Crys'annadath's assault, her confidence restored despite the pain from the hits she had taken.
The elf was angry, she could see it clearly etched into his fine-boned face, in the way he glared at her as he tried to cut her open with his slender blade. Her glaive had skidded to a stop roughly ten feet behind where the two of them battled, but she was unconcerned. Parrying his sword wide with her gauntlet she dove forward, both fists driving into the elf's chest and gut simultaneously. She batted aside a weak backward strike with the wooden scabbard in his left hand, rolling back into a one-handed cartwheel, the tip of her right foot clipping him under the chin and forcing him to stumble backwards, almost falling. Golonda staggered a bit too as she regained her feet, the acrobatic strike difficult enough without her left foot and hip join paining her as they did.
Crys shook his head, trying to clear the spots from his eyes. Against a regular opponent with a sword, he would have had more of a fighting chance, but this Kaldorei fought using every part of her body and without fear. She was too quick for his spells most of the time as well, what normally would have been a large advantage in his favor was just barely one when faced with her. Dagh was probably still alive, but he most certainly wouldn't be if Crys went down as well, and the possibility of that happening was growing more distinct with each passing moment. They both knew that her main weapon was still behind him, to be recalled whenever she wanted to, effectively surrounding him with hazards. A drop to his left, a wall to his right, a dangerous assassin before him and a flying blade behind him. Crys wished he could say that at least his day had started out well.