Elphinia turned her gaze to the south, letting the cold wet winter flakes scatter across the smooth side of her cheek. Her penetrating emerald gaze fixed on tundra below. There men, orcs, elves, and dwarves—the brave soldiers of the argent crusade—clashed with the undead minions of the Lich King. Their dying screams echoed in her thoughts but only long enough for her to fasten an arrow to her bow, and let it slip between her fingers, chasing after the skull of a hulking, frozen, undead brute. With a quick swipe of its arm, the monstrosity caught the bolt in the thick bone of its forearm. It howled, and then barreled toward Elphinia with the kind of hell-bent tenacity one saved for a mortal rival. While most rangers would have fled to safer distance, to pick away at the beast with a flurry of arrow fire, the blood elf stood her ground, steeled her gaze, and drew two finely crafted scimitars from the sheaths at her waist.
As the beast came upon her, Elphinia dove in, tilting her body low jutting out beyond her feet as they drove like lightning. Two rapid sidelong slashes separated the lumbering beast from its legs, legging it topple and roll over the rampart, down to the battle below. However no sooner had she dispatched the undead horror than two more took its place chasing after her with fervor, swinging crude axes, tall and spiked, designed for the purpose of terrorizing their enemies. Turning side over side on her heels, Elphinia skirting one blow, and brought her left sword up to gently parry the second. Her third move was a leap and a hard slash in the direction of the two monsters. Her right scimitar, Frost Fang, ran clean through one of the snarling undead’s throats, while her left blade, Howler, cut through the stomach of the other cretin soon after. A brief pause in battle allowed Elphinia to feel her racing heart beat like a Drakkari war drum, while her eyes moved about the battlefield. To her left, dangerously close to a jutting spire, which marked the edge of the aerial rampart, Norum, clashed with four abominations, the rapid strokes of his dwarven short sword, and the quick movement of his shield, turning what would be fatal strikes into glancing blows, kept the creatures at bay, but for how long Elphinia did not know. Meanwhile Wiggles ran in an arching pattern to her far right, throwing spells of corruption and darkness behind him, and then stopped. Bringing his hands into the air, one behind him and one aimed at his pursuers, he channeled fiendish magics through his body before releasing the power in the form of a shadowy bolt. The black energy hit the seven shambling horror’s with a loud pop, and flash of warm black light. When the flash had all but dissipated, Elphinia saw the remains of the monsters lying in a bloody watery heap.
All around her such battles took place, while up beyond the steps, which lead deeper into Arthas’s black citadel, Jim, Kontar, Rokzen, Shyss, and Lockagh, all clashed relentlessly against the undead orc who barred them entrance to the citadel’s inner sanctum. Like a crashing tide Militia came at Saurfang the younger, and like gust of a mighty mountain valley, he threw them all back several paces, and all but Jim to their backs.
“Blasted undead son of a cocksucker,” Shyss grumbled as he reached for his double-sided hammer, Aegis. With a loud grunt and no lack of effort, he hoisted himself back to his feet, turning the end of his hammer toward the black skinned orc. “Mark my words, you black hearted beast. Even if at the end of this day the Lich King has our souls, my hammer will split you damned skull.”
A toothy grin spread across the Orc’s lips, from tusk to tusk as his laugher bellowed. “Serve? Bah! You worthless vermin are not fit to serve the Lich King. The ghouls will pick the flesh from your bones and when they are through I shall personally see to it that your skull is used as a piss pot.”
Howling with anger and righteous fury, Shyss Charged in, with Rokzen, in cat form close behind. With an over-hand swing, Aegis met with the black Axe renown throughout the horde, for both its master and his father. With a singled hand, Saurfang the younger locked the pole of the hammer under his axe and turned the attack down toward the ground, following it with a hard left hook that nearly took Shyss from his feet again. Despite the stun, he managed to bring his shield up to block a second attack, before Rokzen came tumbling into the fray, dragging his claws against Saurfang black armor. Instead of pulling back as some might, the orc Death Knight drove in all the harder, knocking Rokzen away with the back of his axe, and then aiming down at the tiger-troll’s throat. His attack proved unsuccessful, as Shyss dove forward, catching the blow on his shield, and let it slide off to the side. The incredible impact however jarred the Paladin’s arm, causing a howl of pain to rush from his lips, yet before the pain could settle in, he felt the warm light of holy magic undoing the damage. With a glance over his shoulder, Shyss nodded to Lockagh, before, hammering in again at Saurfang.
Kontar, and Jim were soon to follow, and with the combined strength of the four, they gradually broke through Saurfang’s defenses, carving through thick plate armor, and slicing through cold leathery flesh. Their attacks did not come without cost however. Both Shyss and Jim took on the impact of Saurfang’s brutal swings, braking thumbs, fingers, and jamming their arms out of socket and again Lockagh quickly remedied them with powerful holy magic.
Elphinia’s interest grew as their bought moved down from the steps, Saurfang driving them toward the center of the rampart, yet for all his strikes, stuns, and vicious slashes, the mercenaries managed to hold their own, avoiding major injury, and with the held of the holy paladin Lockagh, and the priestess Kayra, worked the undead orc to a frenzy. The sounds of their weapons clashing rang above the screams and cries, and battle shouts all about them as both sides worked at a feverish pitch. Blocking two attacks from Saurfang axe brought Shyss to his knees, while both Kontar and Jim cut deep into the Undead orcs, letting his ice cold blood spill out over ice blue paved stone. Leaking blood, Saurfang did all he could to continue pressing forward, swinging his axe sideways at Jim’s head, but before the deadly strike could reach, Shyss leapt from his feet and came in hard and fast at the orc’s head, bashing it soundly and them punching his chest with the butt of the holy shield.
“Gah,” Saurfang spat, as he stumbled backward. “Cu… curse you mortals.” A spout of blood followed his words as he took another staggered step. On dying legs he stumbled away from Shyss’s relentless pursuit. Three strokes of Aegis were deflected, the fourth smashed against the orc’s shoulder, driving him to one knee. Weary, with the curse of undeath now weighing heavy on his bones, Saurfang looked up into the Paladin’s eyes, and for a moment, was at peace with his fate. His cursed time in the Lich Kings service was finally at an end. Finally he would sleep, and go be with His ancestors, and his mother, he would be free.
A piercing screech woke him from his hazy dream, and like a shooting star, a ball of blazing blue fire crossed the sky. Elphinia fixed her gaze to it, the meteor crashing in a blaze of glory. Tendrils of sapphire flame stretched out, up into the air before falling to the ground, snaking in the wake of their master. Amidst the burning torrents, he stood tall, and lean. Black and blue armor encased his body, his long brown hair trailing behind him, gently tossing in the winds. Yet nothing struck Elphinia as sharp and haunting as his steel gaze, blue and green all at once. His eyes moved over the group, but stopped to settle on the blood elf hunter whose likeness was akin to his own, in the shape of their faces, and the unique metallic gaze they both shared. A grin spread across his lips. “Elphinia.”
* * * * * * *
The sound of her own name pulled Elphinia, forcefully from her slumber. Her bare limbs shown pale under the dim, yet growing light, that filtered through her open window. She got up and pulled the pane shut with a loud snap and click of the lock, but cold that had settled in her spine would not disperse with the absence of the morning breeze. Silversong. Three months had come and gone since she first heard her half brother, Eldri’ ar speak the family name, that bound her to him, and to all those of the treacherous servants of Sargaras, in eternal damnation. She slammed her fist against her thigh and cursed. “Damn you Eldri’ ar, damn you to the void. I had no desire to know of my family, so why is it that you appeared. Why did you tell me these things only to die on Frostmourne’s edge?"—And for a brief moment, Elphinia saw the fleeting smile on her brother’s lips as he stood before her, taking the brunt of a jabbing strike meant for her. The brother she would only be allowed to remember as an adversary, gave away what life he had left, for her. The sentiment made her skin crawl with irritation and her eyes, but for a moment, spark with tears. For a long while she stood there, in silence, letting the memory of Eldri’ ar wash over her, and sink deep into her bones, before getting dressed.
As she left her room, she caught a glimpse, of Widgett racing down the hall. She wore nothing but undergarments, and shackles binding her hands to one-another. Following close behind the goblin was Wiggles, who stood just a hair above Widgett. He too was only in undergarments, and carrying a rubber dildo that looked too large for even a tauren, and a paddle, worn from use. The two Halfling creatures ran giggling down the hall and into the goblin’s bedroom before the door swung shut with a resounding crash. The moans and squeals that followed caused a harsh shudder to run down Elphinia’s spine. Not wanting to linger on the image she made her way to the guilds main hall. Since returning from Northrend, the heroes of the Citadel had poured much of its finances into restoring the Guildhall. The walls that were once missing whole sections, as well as the exposed leaking pipes, had been put back in order cleaned, and decorated with trophies from their time in the north. The wooden tiles were replaced and waxed, and the large bear hide furniture refurbished. Surrounded by the guild’s newfound beauty, Dr. Xanxus Kepper, sat across from Adarind Treesong, locked in a grueling game of chess. The two opponents seemed too transfixed on one-another to take any real notice of Elphinia as she entered the room, so she walked past the set of chairs over to the Beggar’s Board, the guilds listing of all jobs in the area requesting the aid of a mercenary guild. Gazing up at the board, she let her eyes wander from job to job, without deeming particular interest to any one listing. Against her leg she felt the cold wet press of a Skoll’s nose on her bare skin, and without too much though she ran her fingers through dogs sapphire fur, feeling the tingling fuzz of the powerful electricity that ran through Skoll’s body. Happily he ran his head against her hand and then licked her fingers with his rough tongue. Bending down Elphinia took the large wolf into her arms and stroked his fur and let him run his long tongue up and down, from her cheek to her forehead, while she giggled. “Good morning to you too.”
“DAMN IT!”
Adarind’s violent outburst interrupted Elphinia and Skoll’s morning reunion.
“Calm down and play another game,” Kepper invited, though the grin on his face was far from friendly. “We can make it best of seven.”
The night elf looked at him with a stern, discerning glare before shaking her head. “I’ve had enough of parlor games. All this sitting is making me sore. In an instant her eyes fixed on Elphinia, to whom she leapt, hoping over a sofa and landing square beside the blood elf, “Up and at em, girlie. It’s a new day and there’s work to be done.”
I wonder, Elphinia thought to herself. She had only looked to the Beggar’s board for a moment’s reprisal from her dreams, with no real intention on taking a job, but the chance to talk to Adarind was too tempting. Since their adventures in Ice Crown she had proved herself wise beyond Elphinia’s reckoning. If there were anyone who can help me to understand myself it would be Adarind.
With a smile Elphinia accepted Adarind’s offer, allowing the druid to pick the assignment while she went to her room to change, replacing her shorts and light tunic for black leather leggings, tall black boots made of dragon hide, lined with crystalline blue scales rimmed around the top and over the toe, topped with black tunic made of the same black scales and pauldrons o the blue, with a long hooded cloak to top it all off.
She found Adarind, with Skoll, waiting in the long entrance hall. The druid too was dressed for the hardships of battle, similarly in leather gear, woven magically with leaves of the world tree Nordrasssil.
“Still dressing like a little princess of the night, are we,” Adarind critiqued with a snicker. Elphinia retorted saying, “Still dressing like a tree worshiper are we?” To which Adarind giggled and replied. “Well sweetie its what we Night Elves do,” and the two shared a laugh.
The summer sun shined above the Stormwind docks, causing the heat to swell and whip at the dock laborers like a whip, and draw out their tedious days, and shortening their poorly restful, hard-earned nights. Under the glaring sun, Elphinia felt beads of sweat run down her forehead, though the dark veil of her hood kept her discomfort from onlookers, as she followed Adarind across the stone port. The open air and smell of sea salt cleared her mind of all but the task at hand, her eyes peering dangerously at a tall sun tanned man with short blonde hair. His white sleeveless shirt allowed Elphinia to see the hardened muscles on his arms, and the scars that lined them. There was no doubt he’d seen his share of battles, this one might be tricky.
He along with eight other men stood beneath one of the many crumbling structures across Stormwind city, left over devastation from the black dragon’s pass over the bastion of human civilization. They appeared to be taking a break from their work, five eating packed lunches while the other two, along with the scarred man stood pointing up at the falling fortification, discussing the best way to fix the structure.
“Ahoy, one of the men called, waving a long tanned arm toward Adarind and Elphinia. “Two cute lasses like you wouldn’t happen to be out looking for some sailors would ya?” Two more of the men looked up, and began to share in the goading. The man with the scars however, and the dark skinned man to his right, seemed far from amused. With every step closer to the group of men, Elphinia, could more clearly see the scarred man’s eyes narrow and his hand clench tighter on the hammer in his hand.
Likewise Elphinia’s fingers tickled against the feather of an arrow in her side quiver. “Hey easy there girlie, we need to bring him back alive,” Adarind cautioned, already reading Elphinia’s mind.
“I’ll aim for his legs.”
“Yes and I’d trust you Hun except you have this nasty habit of putting arrows through the bounty’s skull.”
“That was one time,” Elphinia argued back.
“Three,” and with that reminder Elphinia fell silent, taking her hand away from the quiver.
And then he ran.
As if the demon lord Sargaras were on his heels, the man with the scarred arms darted down the port his arms and legs pumping like a finely oiled machine. With acrobatic precision he planted his arm on a wide plank, carried by two men, and tossed his body over it. In a wild sprint he put near on a mile and a half between himself and the crumbled spire, with impressive speed for a human, though, with elven pursuers it was not enough.
Elphinia and Adarind charged after him, racing on light feet, as if carried by the wind itself. Adarind’s long stride kept her several paces ahead of Elphinia, who was already attacking one of her magical, trapping orbs, to the steel carved head of an arrow. As soon as the missile was prepared she let it fly, fast and accurate, a step ahead of her target so that the moment he set his foot down, a debilitating cold ran up his leg. The pain of frostbite, and the lack of feeling in his lower legs caused him to tumble forward, face first into the dirt. Looking up he saw he’d only made it as far as the cliffs along the edge of the port. He had under shot his goal, the forest, where the trees would provide him cover from the hunter’s flurry of arrows, but not by more than a few yard. He cursed his misfortune then forced himself back onto his feet. Muttering a quick spell, the icy chill in his legs dispersed and with his movement returned he against started toward the forest. But the mercenaries were already gaining ground.
* * * * * * *
The combination of the traps delay, and the elves inhuman quickness proved too much, and even a half competent Priest such as Dugan knew he would be overrun in minutes, and so, rather than let the pair take him from behind, he turned to face both elves as they came at him. Speaking in a whisper he rushed an incantation that set his body ablaze with black energy, coursing through him, and making him appear more demon ghost than human. In shadow form, he started a second incantation his eyes trained on night elf, and pressed his palms out at her spoke aloud, “Shadow word: PAIN!”
* * * * * * * *
The moment the words loosed from his lips terrible agony rushed over Adarind, like a fist slowly clutching at her heart. She dropped to her knees and let her scream ring out into the open skies. Pain would not stop her however, as she quickly wove magic, dispersing the spell and climbed to her feet. Ahead of her she saw Elphinia, still charging shadow priest, her bow drawn and releasing a steady stream of arrow fire.
“Alive,” Adarind reminded and was answered with a quick reply.
“I know!”
Back on her feet Adarind began to give chase, following Elphinia’s lead, taking ground. The Shadow Priest did not sit idly however, for with every step a new incantation was running through his teeth. A black mist raced toward Elphinia like a devouring plague, but before the spell could touch her, Adarind had already cast a spell to counter act it and likewise when the he attempted another blast of searing pain. Adarind dispelled both and then started to work trickery of her own. Upon her command, roots climbed up from the earth, locking themselves around the Priest’s ankles.
* * * * * * *
As soon as he felt the roots climbing around his legs, Dugan began to recite the incantation to dispel wildly magic, but with the hunter drawing ever closer and her arrows flying for his soft tender flesh, the Priest thought better. Quickly he adjusted his casting, and moments before Elphinia’s arrows could tear through his flesh, a barrier of light erupted around him, causing the bolts to stop in mid-air and fall harmlessly to the ground. Assured of himself the priest quickly cast another spell, a tunnel of black energy, which struck Elphinia in the midst of her charge and dropped her, hard to the ground. Screaming with agony she twisted left and right. “Make it stop, make it stop.” Cold beads of sweat ran down her face and her breath grew short. Searing pain raced through her mind, numbing her extremities. She heard nothing, but a piercing screech like nails against ice, and she felt nothing but a massive throbbing, as if someone was beating on her skull with a rock.
In the midst of her agony she was again at the peak of Ice Crown Citadel, all around her, her allies fell one by one to the might of the Lord of Death, Arthas. Beside her Adarind lay slain, and wiggles, both died to protect her. Rage filled her bones, and gave her strength. With the power of hate, Elphinia pushed herself up from the cold ice covered floor, the blood running slow from her many wounds, in particular her shoulder where Arthas has driven Frostmourne, and crying out in vengeful fury beckoned the Lich King. “Arthas, DIE!” And with those words she drew an arrow after arrow from her quiver, and let them fire in rapid succession. The twang of her bow sang out like justice driving deep into the Lich Kings armor, piercing his damned flesh. Yet it did not stop him.
With one cold merciless strike Arthas struck Frostmourne high into the air and brought it down hard and fast, ripping through Jim’s chest plate and flesh, in one deep single blow.
Still firing her arrow’s Elphinia watched helplessly as Jim, her last comrade, fell dead. “FUCK YOU! Fuck you, you cursed abomination.”
Her arrows raced from her bow and sunk deep into the Lich King’s flesh. His stride was unhindered; he walked with assurance, with a swipe of his sword sent a wave of frozen energy racing across the spire. Elphinia was blown from her feet, and on to her butt, where she sat dazed. As her gaze drifted up, she saw death incarnate looming over her. Jim, Wiggles, Adarind, Shyss, Armagaren, Lock, Maristhine, their names brought tears to her eyes, and she weep for each of them, and then, as she saw across the spire, the orc whose death had first sent her down a warpath, her heart stopped. “Kon-tar,” she spoke allowed and in that moment, lost all will to resist.
“Good, you have relinquished all yearning for this world. Now, you are ready to serve me, as the greatest army this world has ever seen. Night has fall on Azeroth, and a new dawn shall rise, a red dawn, a dawn of undeath.”
Licking a cut on her lip, Elphinia stared wide-eyed into the face of frozen evil. Arthas drew his blade back, for a clean piercing strike, but its sting did not touch Elphinia breast, as was its aim, but rather tore through Eldri’ ar’s stomach. Gasping the Death Knight turned back; smiling at his half sister, and in broken speech gave her his final words. “L-l-live… little sister.” And with those words Eldri’ ar summoned all of his strength and drove the Lich back to his throne, and in the process, shattered the icy tomb that bound Tirion Fordring.
Live. Her brother’s words rang clearly in her mind, blocking out the vicious assault from the searing mental attack. Pressing her palm into the dirt, she pushed her body up. The mental pain came in waves; she braced herself during each wave and in the span between them stood, slouched, on the verge of vomiting. It took all of her strength to shift her gaze from the earth, up to Dugan, but once her eyes were set, so was her mind. Beside her she could hear see Adarind furiously casting healing magic, and Elphinia knew that it was all the druid could do, to keep her alive.
Elphinia lifted her bow, drew an arrow from her quiver, and just as Adarind’s voice peeled through the layers of vicious mental damage, “NO!” Elphinia fired.
