Even before they could see the outpost, they could smell the smoke, and while they immediately understood the urgency, with their wounded, they could not move too quickly for fear of leaving them exposed.
They rounded the last corner of the path, the outpost only yards away, and Tyrande bounded forward to make sure there was no danger, entering the edge of the settlement before waving to the rest of her companions. "Tyrande!" A voice called out, "Thank Elune you've made it!" Another elf trotted over, her armor stained and her quiver low. "The undead attacked out our village without warning!"
"Good fortune to your family, Shandris," Tyrande said, greeting the woman. Her eyes turned to the burning buildings, which the few left uninjured were helpless to save. "We have a greater problem. The undead were sent here by the Burning Legion, our ancient enemies of old. Against such might we have only one option. We must awaken the druids."
There was an immediate, dreadful hush over the area as the other elves stopped. Most of them remembered the War of Ancients, the near hopeless situation. "Gather yourselves. We must not stay longer than absolutely necessary. Get your wounded on any sabers you have. The rest of us shall walk," Tyrande said, stepping down from her own mount, freeing it for transport.
Tyrande stood over ramshackle table in the center of the newest encampment, a map pressed across its top. There were no buildings, those would take too long, and with the intruders on the move, ancient treants were the only thing resembling structures that they had with them. The old creatures groaned as they moved somberly through the woods, their bark creaking and cracking. It was likely that many of them had not moved for centuries. Some of them had already sent down roots, intent on not moving again for some time.
"With Cenarius dead, it falls to us to awaken the druids. We must recover the demigod's horn from the sacred Moonglade Isle. Only its clarion call can awaken the druids from their slumber." Tyrande's slender hand slid from the spot on the map that indicated their position to the isle, expression thoughtful.
"But Priestess, the orcs have established a crude settlement upon the isle. We'll need to fight our way through them to reach Cenarius' horn!" Shandris shook her head, her own finger tapped at the edge of the isle, indicating the spot she was speaking of. Tyrande frowned, looking up to say something, but she was interrupted by arrival of a mounted patrol, their sabers bounding into the clearing.
"Priestess Tyrande, thank Elune we found you. The undead are advancing upon the nearby Barrow Dens! The Dens seem abandoned, but-" Their leader adjusted herself uncomfortably, clearly anxious.
"There is one druid sleeping within them, sister. Furion Stormrage. He is the wisest and most powerful of all the druids. He must be warned that the Legion has returned." Tyrande's expression hardened and she turned from her map. "We must destroy the orcs. It is the quickest way."
"Then we'd better hurry. If the undead overtake his Den before he's awakened-"
"Tyrande," Sarene called, looking down at the map. The Priestess paused before returning to the makeshift table. "If I take a team of hunters along this path, we will be able to reach the side of the village, and divide their forces." Tyrande watched as Sarene's finger traced a narrow trail.
"You have a sharp eye," Tryande nodded, "Take the archers that you will, I will send some hunters with you, as well. May Elune guide your hand, Sister."
Sarene nodded, picking up her quiver and bow before trotting toward the other archers. The path was narrow, and there was no telling the exact geography of where it opened into the camp, but she would need enough to prevent any orcs from being able to engage them in close-quarter fights. The main force would go with Tyrande and break through the front lines. If they were lucky, they would keep any defenders from the other side of the camp from being able to reinforce them. She motioned to the group and ten broke off, gathering their weapons without hesitation as three mounted hunters padded over. Sarene thought for a moment. "How high do your sabers jump?"
The three hunters glanced at each other at the question, unsure of her meaning.
"Let us make haste, my sisters! All our hopes rest on Furion's awakening!"
Sarene crouched at the edge of the orc camp. It was nearly a village. The green brutes were surprisingly fast builders, though their structures appeared to mostly be dug-outs with leather roofing, which certainly made the process easier. Many of their buildings were guarded with large spikes, which might make assault easier if mere destruction was the goal. What appeared to be bunkers, perhaps their dwellings, appeared to be scattered about, but it was easy to see their placement was strategic. The orcs would run there if under duress, and from there, defend themselves. But that would only make them easier targets for the ballistae.
Kalisse nudged Sarene's knee with her hand before motioning upwards. She squinted, unsure of what she was looking at. It had the body of a lion, the tail of a scorpion, and large wings. It appeared to be carrying a rider. They had waited for nightfall, so the patrol would be useful only against the undead. Sarene turned to the rest of her archers, motioning to the creature. "We must take the winged creatures out first. They will be the most danger to Tyrande and the hunters, and we will be the most danger to them." There were several nods of assent, and Sarene glanced at the hunters behind her, watching as they watched the strange animals in flight. She nocked an arrow in preparation.
There was a roar, the sound of a saber signifying the start of the battle. The sky-borne monstrosity swerved in mid-air, changing its trajectory. Sarene drew her bowstring and released, the arrow zipping through the sky and finding its mark in the beast's throat, causing it to drop from the sky, its rider falling with it. The sounds of a clash could be heard, despite the distance, and it wasn't long before more sky monsters could be seen. Serane crept forward, toward the village, the rest of her archers behind her as they searched the skies for more flying creatures.
They were interrupted by a group of mounted orcs, these land-bound on large wolves. The whisper of an arrow sounded, and one of the wolves howled, the shot having found its mark in his eye. The group stopped and turned as more arrows came their way, but their fearless mounts charged forward, and the archers were only able to take down two, the three others still running.
It was then that another roar sounded, this much closer, and the archers dropped to allow the hunters to leap over them. The surprise was clear in the wolves, who stopped, their riders surprised for just enough time for the large cats to crash onto them, crushing the wolves and allowing their riders to slice the orc-riders to ribbons. "Go," Sarene motioned forward, and once satisfied that the wolves were not getting back up, the three hunters bounded away, deeper into the encampment. There were more flying orcs, and Serane took to shooting them down. Aiming for them was difficult, and some were still too high to reach, but they could not fly forever. The sound of flames reached Serane's ears. The settlement had been set ablaze, and as predicted, the orcs ran back to their low-lying homes, using the horizontal slats to aim their own weapons at the attackers. The hunters were going to back off when a strange orc appeared, sweeping aside the entrance flap to the large, central building.
He was taller than the rest, and wore no armor on his upper body. The tusks protruding from his lower jaw were longer, and he wore a banner. He meant to draw attention to himself. He scowled toward Tyrande and her fellows, and then to Serane and hers. There was a moment where his body flickered, and he split into three, causing Serane to recoil. One strode toward Tyrande's forces, confidence in every stride. The other two headed toward the archers.
Serane stepped back, "Sisters!" She called, drawing their attention toward the strange orc. Serane nocked and drew, aiming for him. They fired collectively, all able to identify the doubles as more threatening than any of the other orcs. One of the doubles spun, the same type of magic that allowed him to triple himself allowing him to sidestep the arrows, while the other continued to stride forward, albeit at a much slower pace, arrow shafts shooting out from his chest. The archers stepped back, and Serane felt desperate start to gather in her stomach, unsure of what kind of creature they were facing. They fired another volley, and one staggered, sinking to his knees, but the other continued to advance.
Serane drew her blade, knowing her chances were slim, but seeing no other option. If she could hold him in the same spot for long enough for the other archers to sink enough arrows into him, they might at least have a chance. She wet her lips as she readied her sword. The orc stopped, several yards from her, his large sword polished and threatening. He let out a low, heavy laugh that set Sarine on edge. He said something, his voice hoarse and grating, his words indecipherable as he motioned to the scabs on her face. His hands gripped the hilt of his blade as Sarene's archers focused on the second of him.
The orc lunged, large sword grazing the air very near her side as Serane sidestepped, bringing herself close enough to swing at his unprotected torso, only to have him twist away. She did not let up, hearing the sharp twang of bowstrings as her archers fired shots, and hoping that they would deal with the other quickly enough.
He jerked as an arrow sank into his bicep, but he broke the shaft of with a grunt, but the pause was enough, and Serane leapt forward, her sword slicing deep into the flesh of his side. He roared and caught her arm with one hand, flinging her off to the side and against a tree in his rage. He jerked the blade out as well, causing deep red blood to pulse out of the wound. The fury on his face was unmistakable, and Serane scrambled to her feet, snatching a dagger from her hip. It was much shorter, too short to be effective without putting herself in significant danger. But her initial wound was wearing on him, and he was losing a significant amount of blood with every beat of his heart. His grip on his sword weakened as another arrow buried its head in his calf and he fell to a knee. Seeing her final chance, she lunged, driving her dagger into the top of his skull. Jerking the blade back out, she picked up her sword and cleaned both on the orc's pants.
Before she could turn back to her archers, a dryad burst forth from the forest, her four legs prancing anxiously, and her large, doe-y eyes wide with concern. "Are we being invaded?" She asked, earnest.
Another invader settlement burned, and another victory, but it still left more elves injured, unable to fight. Luckily, Tyrande had sent out more scouts to search for more pockets of elves, knowing that they would need their full, concentrated strength if they were to take on the Legion once more. A small number of elves had been able to reach them, and the dryads were coming forth as well.
The assault on the isle itself was an entirely different matter, however. The death of Cenarius had resulted in the creation of three aspects that now patrolled the area, hostile even to the elves Cenarion himself had once helped. There was no choice but to destroy them, as well. But it was the dryads who would have to carry out this task, as they were invulnerable to the magic the aspects wielded.
Sarene's body was already aching from the fight with the large orc, but there was no rest. The undead were closer to Stormrage with every passing minute. Once the druids had been awakened, then perhaps she could pause. The archers had reclaimed what arrows they could, though most had been splintered, shattered, or their heads dislodged. Many dryads had brought their own stores in addition to the spears they preferred, and it was much appreciated. She dropped a sheaf into her quiver, pulling a single arrow out to test its balance. The shaft was straight, and the fetching even. The dryads did good work.
"Are your archers ready?" Tyrande padded over on her saber, looking Serane over with a critical eye as she nodded. "Were you injured in battle?"
"No, priestess." Serane answered, straightening. Tyrande gave one last overview before turning away to lead the charge. Serane swung her quiver onto her shoulder and checked the arrows on her belt before rejoining the other archers, each of whom had gathered their own supplies from the dryads.
"Will our arrows be able to subdue the aspects?" Doranna asked, frowning at the thought.
"I do not think so," Serane said. "But there are owlbears on the island as well, and they will not take our intrusion without offense. The dryads will lead this charge."
"Surely they can sense the change in the forest," Kalisse said, objecting.
"I do not like the idea either, but the corruption may have driven them mad. They may not know us as they once did." There solemn nods all around. None of them enjoyed taking the lives of the forest creatures with such mindless frenzy. "And if they stand between us and Stormrage, we have no choice. Come, Sisters."
Serane nodded in the direction of the horn. Following the dryads, it wasn't long before they came in sight of a ghostly red creature, wreathed in flames. It appeared as Cenarius once had, a tall, horned centaur with what appeared to be live growth around his four ankles. As its red eyes fell on them, it said nothing, only stamping one of its hooves. But this was not her fight, and Serane watched as the dryads bounded forward, their magic-tipped spears twirling as they let out a battle cry.
Another howl sounded, and the owl bears lumbered forward from their dens. Their mottled brown feathers were puffed up to make themselves appear larger as their beady eyes settled on the attackers. The largest of them let out a wavering howl as its short legs carried it forward. The dryads were nimble enough to dodge their flat, heavy paws, and the archers drew back their bows and released, heavy-tipped arrows striking deep into the creatures' fat-protected flesh. They all howled in pain now, their beaks nearly foaming. They drew again, firing another volley. A smaller, younger owlbear collapsed, and Serane felt a pang of regret, but it was unavoidable. This only served to further enrage the elder monsters, who had not stopped their charge. The hunters came in next, their sabers bounding toward the owlbears. They, at least could match the other animals in size and ferocity, and they had much stronger armor than the archers themselves.
The snarls and claws made the battle suddenly double in noise, and the wails of the owlbears were nearly unbearable. But without their death, there was no hope for the rest of forest. Serane relaxed her bow as the large cats tore into the owlbears. The dryads had moved on from the flaming aspects to two others. Their spears made short work of the last two guardians, and the two aspects collapsed in on themselves, the magic barrier around the horn falling away as well. "At last, the horn of Cenarius! Now we can awaken Furion!" Tyrande bounded toward the pedestal that held Cenarius' curved horn and lifted it to her lips, giving a strong blow.
The sound was deep, resonating out from Tyrande, and it almost felt as though it vibrated the very fiber of the forest itself. Everything became still as death, the noises of even the birds and other animals dying out in moments. There was a thunderous tearing of trees, and from where they were, they could see a large section of trees coming to life under the druid's powerful magic.
Remaining on the isle, it took Stormrage a short time to make the journey toward them, his robed form appearing from the trees with all the due mysticism, small saplings following behind him. "The horn has sounded, and I have come, as promised! I smell the stench of decay and corruption in our land that angers me greatly," he said, his voice settling heavily over the gathered Elves.
Tyrande's head bowed, as if she was unsure how to deliver the news. "The Legion is back, Furion. Archimonde has returned."