The forest had been quiet for ten thousand years, but now the wind carried the scent of decay and corruption. Serane's fingers kept a delicate grip on her nocked arrow as she prowled through the underbrush toward the light of a campfire. She was flanked by two of her elven sisters, Doranna and Kalisse, each on high alert, their steps practiced and silent as they approached the intruder encampment. Two more approached the camp from the opposite side, closing off their escape route. These were not the Tauren of the South. They were bare-skinned and pink, with plated metal armor and a strange tongue. Serane glanced to the both of them, tilting her head indicatively.
Their large ears gave them a hearing advantage, and they all knew that sound. A frostsaber. They leapt from the trees at the same moment that the creature leapt over the crudely-made barricade, it's roar causing the strange two-legged creatures to jump up with shouts of surprise, jerking their swords from scabbards. It did them no good, as they each found arrows buried in the junctions of their armor.
"Elune-adore, Priestess," Serane stepped forward, her bow lowered as she tilted her head toward the frostsaber's rider. "We are yours."
The look of relief that spread over Tyrande's face was telling. She had no escorts, and looked as though she had just fled from a battle. "Elune be with you, sisters," she said, her voice clear and strong as ever. "Come, we must reach the outpost. I will explain once we have reached safety." Tyrande's words set the group on edge, where they had previously been confident whatever intruders they would encounter would be easily dealt with.
It wasn't long before they encountered another group of humans, but before they could clear the area, a group of shambling monstrosities appeared behind them, limping out from the forest. They were the source of the wretched scent that permeated the forest, and the pink creatures gave a shout of alarm once more. The elves dropped back, blending themselves into the shadows to watch as the clash ensued. The monsters appeared to be in the same proportion as the others, but the flesh had fallen from their bones, leaving behind nothing but a few rags. There was no mistaking that they had ceased to live long ago. They tore at the armor of the pink-skins, seeming to relish the destruction, but their frenzied actions were no match for the trained soldiers. They were all decapitated quickly, their fetid bones falling to stain the soil.
Tyrande sprung forward, her bow raised, and the rest of her archers did the same. The metal-clad creatures turned, clearly intending to flee with their shields covering their escape. "Foolish humans," she cried, "you cannot escape the goddess' wrath!" The humans' metal shields were raised this time, making them impervious to the arrows. Realizing that another volley of arrows would be futile, Tyrande lifted her arm, summoning starlight itself to destroy their encampment in a blaze of blue-purple starfire.
"Clearly the humans have no love for the undead, but I dare not trust them," the Priestess said as she urged her mount forward into the wreckage, looking at the bodies. It wasn't pity or regret in her eyes. Confusion, perhaps. These creatures were all intruders, and all had to die.
"They do not belong here, no matter their allegiance," Serane said. There was a murmur of agreement as they surveyed the small area, taking in their rudimentary tents and barricades. None of it had helped. They moved forward, staying in the shadows, hiding themselves in the moonlight. They came across a large encampment of green-skinned creatures. All of the intruders seemed to be of odd colors. It was far too large of a group for their small team to have a hope of destroying at the moment, so they passed.
A few yards beyond the settlement, and a patrol appeared from the shadows, their black mounts in stark contrast to Tyrande's. "Elune be with you, Priestess," their leader said as they tilted their head in reverence to Tyrande. "Be wary; the doomguards command shades that can see us even when we meld with the shadows, and we have not been able to best the demon ourselves. We best stay away from them."
Tyrande nodded in turn, turning her silver eyes toward the path in front of them. The land itself was corrupted, cracked and gray, most of the grass already missing, and what was left a sickly brown. The trees bordering the area were dying already as well, their remaining leaves and needles a fetid green. The mere sight churned Serane's stomach, and the smell did not nothing to help. "Come. We must pass before sunrise," Tyrande said, urging her saber forward at a slow pace.
The Doomsguard were fearsome monsters, tall as treants with blood-red skin, expansive wings of black leather, and hooved feet. The blades they carried were larger than the elves themselves and glowed with green hellfire. They patrolled the open paths, snorting and stomping, their steps shaking the ground. "Sisters," Tyrande whispered, her voice blending with the sound of the trees. "Who among you has the longest shot?" Serane stepped forward, nocking an arrow as she did so. Tyrande pointed to a shadowed figure that appeared to be little more than smoke, but bore a pair of glowing red eyes. "I will bless your shot so that Elune herself might smite this foul creature."
Serane lifted her bow, putting her arrowhead within reach of Tyrande, whose hand glowed as she performed the magic. The glow transferred to the arrowhead, which burned with purple light as Serane drew back and measured the wind. The smoke creature turned, and she felt it's eyes settle on her, causing her hair to prickle.
"Ah hah!" An unnaturally deep and snarled voice sounded, and the whistle of a blade rang in Serane's ears, allowing her to release her shot and dive away just moments before the cruelly curved instrument came whirling down to where she had been standing. "Hellfire!" The demon cursed, swinging its blade without aim in an attempt to find her by sheer luck. Serane sucked in breath as she hunkered down, now more prey than predator, but the shade was dead, and the monstrosity's eyes could no longer find the elves in the dark.
They continued along for what seemed to be an eternity before they reached an ancient gate in the trees. It appeared to have been able to keep the demons at bay, as the grass beneath the gate itself was still vibrant and green. With Tyrande keeping watch, the archers parted the gates just wide enough to slip through, only to have half a dozen arrows lodge in the wood of the gate as a warning. "Who goes there?" a lyrical voice demanded.
"Good fortune to your families," Tyrande said as her saber strode through the gate, which was promptly closed behind the rest of the group. "It is I, Tyrande." An almost palpable release of tension passed through the defending archers, and their bows lowered.
"Thank Elune. We were scouting when we came across-" here the woman faltered for words. "I do not even know what to call it. The land itself is rotting, the undead are bleeding toxins into the soil in order to allow the expansion of their encampment. It seems they can not thrive on living land."
"That is a good observation. Show me this encampment," Tyrande instructed.
Free from the threat of the Doomsguard, and with a larger force than before, the group could move more quickly over the trails, and much more bravely. As they approached the settlement, the air once again took on a sickly stench that burned at their throats, and the verdant grass gave way to gray, crumbling soil. The undead creatures shambled about, ignorant of the elves. They tore at trees, ancient beings that had quickly succumbed to the poison.
"By Elune," Tyrande said, lifting a hand to point at a floating structure. "We must destroy them."
"My lady, are we strong enough?" One of the archers stepped forward. "Perhaps we should rally troops from the outpost."
"The outpost is too far, and they may be under attack as well. There are some old ballistas hidden nearby. Perhaps they would be enough to launch an assault?" Serane offered, and the collection of archers that had joined with her nodded.
Tyrande thought for a moment. "Will five of you be enough to collect them?"
"We will need one more," Doranna said.
"Go with them," Tyrande looked to one of the other archers before looking at Sarene. "Take your archers, retrieve the ballistas and bring them to us. Go to the outpost," she spoke now to a rider. "Tell them we are near. If they can spare us any aid, return with it."
The group of archers, now six, split off from the main group as the mounted elf bounded off, skirting the rotting soil.
The ballistas were hidden only a few hundred yards from where Tyrande waited for their return. But the wooden machines were heavy and cumbersome, and even with two elves pushing each, it took a short while to wheel them into position. Glancing at the sky, Serane estimated the time to sunrise, and was not relieved. The rest of the archers joined them, hunching around the ballistas as though they would provide better cover than the shadows.
"Tyrande will signal the begin of the attack with a burning arrow. The ballistas are to aim for the flying building first, to try and draw out the enemy soldiers. We are to defend them, and provide what cover we can for the riders. They will move into the encampment and destroy what they can," one of the newcomers said.
"Load the ballistae," Serane instructed. The machines had been built for ease of reloading, but it still took time for the large javelins to be moved into position, and to take proper aim. Serane watched as three elves pulled on the winch of their own ballista, the sound of the firing mechanism being pulled into place, producing a biting, metal sound. "Ready?" She asked, looking to the other teams, each of which nodded in turn. She turned then, to Tyrande in the distance, who was watching the undead astride her saber.
The Priestess' silver eyes turned, watching the archers to determine their readiness before lifting her bow, its arrow lit with starfire, and drawing back. The twang of her bowstring could be heard across the distance, and the projectile arced through the air, sinking into the side of a wooden wagon with blood-encrusted blades jutting out of the front. The dry wood quickly caught fire, and the enemy poured forth.
"Fire!" The ballistae fire mechanisms were released with a sharp snap, and the javelins were hurled up and forward toward the floating building with a deep, heaving whoosh. Almost immediately, the act of reloading perforated the air with more sharp clangs as Serane and the other free archers nocked arrows. Though there were only a handful of archers, their volley of arrows were well-aimed, and took out a number of monstrosities, the power of their bows shattering skulls with ease.
"May our enemies beware!" Tyrande cried as her mounted elves charged forward, their swords drawn. The shambling corpses were little match for the agile sabers, whose paws and fangs aided in the battle, crushing bone just as easily. The javelins continued to hurtle toward the floating building, knocking large chunks of rubble from the sky, which crashed down onto the undead, wreaking further havoc.
In Serane's experience, battles did not often go so easily, and the pit that formed in her stomach wrenched as she heard the pained screams of one of her own, accompanied by the roar of her saber. Another voice could be heard, jarring and garbled words pouring forth as it shambled into view.
It was a large, corpulent creature of dead-white flesh that appeared to have been sewn together. It dragged a large, evil hook covered in crusted and coagulated blood behind it, the other hand carrying a cleaver, bulging eyes and gaping mouth only adding to the revolting whole. Its rotting arm pulled back, preparing to swing and scattering the riders. "Archers!" Tyrande called out, and they responded, aiming for the creature's body. Half a dozen arrows did nothing, and it swung its hook, nearly catching another rider, but her saber leapt out of the way. Tyrande herself fired as well, her arrow catching one of its eyes and splitting it open, allowing a wretched fluid to seep out as it wailed in pain. Another volley of arrows and it staggered backward, roaring as the hand clutching a cleaver lifted, clearly intending to throw the rusted weapon. Another rider leapt forward, blade cutting clean through the pasty flesh and bone. The arm fell, and the creature let out another guttural sound before another flurry of arrows found their mark. Rather than falling back again, however, it swung its chain over its head, gaining momentum before bringing it back down to smash into a rider, throwing her from her saber.
"Incoming!" Serane's eyes returned to the space in front of her to find the undead, new monsters, their bodies fresher, loping towards herself and the other archers. They stumbled as the archers took aim for them, but their bones were not so brittle, and they were more agile as their corpses had not lost as much tissue, as many ligaments. Serane ground her teeth and drew her blade, as did Doranna and Kalisse. They could not destroy the ballistae before the flying building was destroyed.
The undead were smaller than the elves, but their bone structure varied, indicating that both the humans and the green-skinned creatures had been taken by the curse, but they would all die the same. She swung across, into the skull of one of the attackers, her height giving her a significant reach advantage, as the monstrosities claws were not able to reach her armor. Another, however, leapt, and as she was dislodging her sword from bone, she did not have time to catch it before she was taken down. Its rotting teeth gnashed in the air, inches from her flesh, and its clawed fingers tore at her armor and exposed flesh, before an arrow shattered its skull, fetid brain threatening to spill out onto her before Serane could finally throw its body aside. She scrambled up, blade in hand again, slashing at the other corpses, taking out arms and legs as she could. Arrows continued to fly, the archers' aim keeping Serane and the other sword-wielding fighters safe.
Their skirmish resolved, Serane turned back to the hulking monstrosity, to see a saber, claws buried deep within its puckered flesh, tearing it apart with unrelenting ferocity. She looked back up to the floating building now, most of its base completely destroyed, laying in a pile of rubble at is base. "Look out!" One of the elves manning the ballistae shouted as one last javelin slammed into the center of the base and the entire structure shuddered before collapsing down. The mounted riders bounded away, and as the smoke from the collapse cleared, they slaughtered the remaining undead.
With the battle resolved, Tyrande once again nocked an arrow, standing in the center of the encampment. "Come, sisters," she said, summoning her other riders, each of whom drew their own bow. "This place must burn," she shared her starfire with the others, and each took aim at a building. The archers moved what they could of the undead back into the center of the area, lighting their rotting corpses ablaze as well, in addition to the corpulent monstrosity. It was the only way to purify their toxins.
"Collect our wounded," Tyrande demanded, her voice solemn as she stared at the blaze, "And let us be rid of this place. The sun has almost risen, and we must reach the river before dawn breaks."
With the wounded on sabers, they left the blaze behind, knowing the damp, still-living forest surrounding it would not allow the fire to spread much further. Thankfully, the outpost was close, and the river only a few hundred yards from there.