Death Angels Roleplay

Another arrow shot straight into Grimgiers chest causing blood to trip slowly over his chestpiece, another shot home followed by another arrow, imbeding itself deep in Grimgiers arm. He stood defiant, determined not to let Drakisaths soldiers past the threshold where his bloodied companies lay.

Ruatek lay unconcious. bloodey and beaten by the recent fight with rend, tho rend was beaten he lay a crushing blow striking ruateks arm clean off. Mastejo stood beside him mending the fallen shamans wounds.

A horn sounded, Drakisath had ordered the final charge, a charge to wipe out the intruders that had entered Uper blackrock spire.

A stand had to be made, a last stand.

Grimgier stood steadfast and strong, shield and mace together he utter a defiant roar as drakisaths soldiers charged the room.

Drakisaths dragonkin struck with precise and strength as they quickly took down a bewlidered Theseus as he tried to unload a round of arrows into the charging mob.

Grim charged into the vast mob of dragonkin, filled with rage of seeing his beloved friend fall to the might of the black dragonflight he taunted the mobs to challenge him.

The blows struck hard and fast but Grimgier stood upright, taking each blow as it came, his plate deflecting strikes, his shield blocking attacks, his mace smashing into the skulls of the dragons...But more came.

One by one he watched his commarades fall to the battle hardend elites that Drakisath presented, bate, lostsoul, mastejo even the mighty huntress tizzi falling to the unrelenting blows of the dragonkin.

All that was left was himself and deathstare, a ruthless undead warrior known for his brutality and rage in battle.

Back to back they stood, encircled by hordes of dragons, a injured ruatek laying, blinded with pain of rends doomsaws strike.

Drakkisath sniggered as he watched the two mighty horde warriors stand strong cutting down the dragonkin that charged them, deathstares dal rend blades swiftly cutting through the dragons hardened skin like a kinfe through silk, Grimgier charged, snaping the neck of one of the dragons he turned and drove his mace thru the skull of another. He took a blow to back stunning him. He stood bewildered as several dragonkin drove there disgusting blades into Grimgier. He roared as the blades drove through his plate armour piercing his flesh.

He fell to the floor, he could see deathstare being overwhlemed by several of the black dragonflight, being engulfed by the snapping jaws of them, Grimgier rose, bloodied and battered he charged int othe mob, slamming his shield into several of the dragons, he knew hsi time was alsmot at hand. He saw deathstares battered bloodey collapsed on the floor after the unrelenting atack he suffered. Grimgier stood, broken and brusied against the last seven of the dragonkin left standing.

It was his time, he knew it, saying a quiet prayer to the gods he charged roaring the words of the warchiefs call he smashedi nto the line of dragons, they quickly plunged there blades into him again but he stood defiant, refusing to go down he battled for his fallen commrades.

He felt his senses leave him, as the blades continued to hit him, he made his last stand, dripping with blood he rose his mace for a final blow to the dragons, they parryed the strike and pushed him top the floor.

The dragon captain laughed as he aimed his blade towards grimgiers heart, he closed his eyes and held his breath...

There was a bright flash of light, the dragon captain stood frozen in his place. Ruatek nearly dead stood with the last of his energy and fired a frostbolt towards the captainm, incapacitated he was blown back by a gush of wind.

There stood wigdar, his robes flowing in the breeze of a nearby opened door, a powerful arua surrounding him, behind him stood several other Death angels, battle hardned and ready they chargedm annilating the last of the dragons.

A cheer was heard and grimgier plunged into darkness, he thanked the gods and the warchief for saving his life on this day.

hehe sorry got carried away, alreayd wirting the stratholme version! ROLEPLAY FTW

Ps ton of spelling mistakes but im writing this at silly o clock cuz i cant sleep

He stood alone apon the banks of Stonebull lake, gazing into the still waters. School of small fish, obvlious to the war and strife going on the world in distant lands. Deep in though he sat there till sundown, only when the suns light relfected off the calm surface of the lake did he stirr. Checking his equipment and backpacks before he stood up, giving the tranquil scenery of Mulgore one more look before he mounted up onto his faithful Kodo, Betty. Giving her a gently kick to her sides, the docile creature lumber off to follow the path east. To Durotar.

One hand gripped the reigns as he held a letter in the other, reading it once more to himself. It was from Grimgier, the crude handwritting was in the least difficult to read. He had three days to meet some of his fellow Death Angels, to vanquish the evils in BlackRock Spire. The grass soon dispersed into a dusty wasteland, a sure sign he was entering the immense Barrens. Traveling at night toa void the glaring sun in the day, the cooling ground gave off a strange haze as heat rose up. The wildlife would be less viotile too, the might Thunderlizards that stomped about were not a foe to be taken lightly, though they'd be no doubtably sleeping.

Passing though Comp Taurajo, offering a friendly wave to time old faces, h and his Kodo marched on through the arid plains, by sun up he reached The Crossroads. A town under frequent attacks by troublesome Allaince. From here on he kept his wits about him, though it would be a strange sight to meet a attacking force at such a early hour. North and then west, till he finally arrived at Far Watch Post, though weary from a night of travel and day of thought he pushed on, knowing he'd be at the might gates of Origrimmar by noon that day. Passing through Razor Hill, the younger Horde offering cheers as he went by. The twisting ravine made poor company, the distant shrieks of Harpies echoed along it's dry rocky walls. BY late morning the distance show'd the black outline of the fimiliar stockade approached. His estimation was correct, saluting the guards posted by the gateway he rode into the Orc capital. Leaving Betty bound to a post, he went in search of his allies and friends. Finding them in the middle of a hearty battle song, in the Inn. Grimgier, Deathstare, Theseus and Mastejo turned to see the travel beaten Shaman slumping against the doorway. Immediately the five began to laugh, ordering him food and water a plenty. Though more serious matter were at hand. At the back of his mind a challenge was lingering. One he had to finish today...

Leaving his companions to dine and sing till their hearts content, he walked out and headed for the Chamer of Thrall, he was yet to find out which of the four elements; Fire, Water, Wind or Earth were to be his guide. Might hold at the rear of the city was home to all the most important individuals in the Orc and Troll race, not to mention the most respected Shamans from which he studied and learned the ways of his kind. Giving his respects to the war cheid before he sat with one of his mentors, and the trial began. Over his life time, he'd been watched. Taking into account not only his skills but attitude the decision was made, and eventually he stood up and undertook the ways of Resortation. Learning a further, more powerful totem that he could cast. They called it, Mana Tide.

He rejoined his friends and they rested out the night before their long journey across the seas to the volcanic lands that the cursed mountain sat. Taking th goblin desgined airship to the misty jungles of Stranglethorn the small company of seasoned vetrens traveled. Then north, through lands possesed by their eternal enemies, the Humans. Eventually, each of their steeds haulted after days of traveling and running from defensive forces out for their blood. They stood infront of the omnious pillar of stone, looming high into the smoke choked air above them. All looking to each other before the strode into the heart of the mountain.

Before they knew it, they stood before the renegade orcs, fighting off wave after wave with starwalt determination. Edging closer and closer to the doors that led them to the imfamous upper section, apon openning the doors. They all know, just the five of them would die in a blink of an eyes. Might dragonkin patroled and to the sides were rooms full of Orcs, warriors and masters of the dark arts.

Sending out a plea to the Guild for aid in their quest. Quicker than they could ever expect, eager Death Angels stood ready beside them. Tizzi, Lostsoul and Bate answered the call of battle. And battle, they did. With their boosted numbers, the three new and with out a doubt expert allies they took the Orcs and Dragons of Blackrock Spire down, inch by inch. But then they knew a real right was apon them. Rend.

After fighting this minions the invaders weren't given a moment to breath before the legendary Orc riding apon a Chromatic dragon swooped into the chamber, and so the fight began! A fight for their very lives! IN the fray, it was clear that they were to win but at a cost. Each of them bore wounds most couldn't not even look at, Ruatek himself lay apon the cold stone. His mind blank, left arm lay beside him. His trusty mail for once failed him, spliting clean under the Orcs fury, his arm being sliced through. Their talented Druid, Mastejo attempted to nurse the dire blow. Though it was certain the Shaman would die in time, his blood tainting the smooth obsidian around him. Staning his mail, and Mastejo's own armor. With a rumbling roar, more abd more vile dragons swarmed them... and true test of the groups strength was at hand.

(Yea so I made a requeal to grims story from my side, sue me. )

And all lived happly ever after

All of you have enough water and food? *Muffled grunts and acknowlegdements*

Ok guys, listen up!

All huddle up around ur appointed groups.

The priest will give us a prayor of fortitude which will benefit us throughout our adventure.

Thank you kind priest. May your healing touch be with us throughout battle.

Now, for those of u who use magic. Be sure to drink up whenever u can. We need u to be able and ready at all times.

U never know what kind of evil lurks around the corner.

Our mage has been trained by the very best and he has taken the liberty to share his knowledge with us. Allthough most of u won't really understand what he'll be doing, its worth listening to it.

U'll feel knowledgable for an hour or so which will greatly improve your overall mana pool. Feel free to ask him for more lessons along the way as long as we're not in combat.

Ok our duid also has some herbs here for u. Make sure all of u have eaten this stuff. It will broathen your senses.

Great all of u now have participated in the prayor of fortitude? Splendid!

Ok group one, you will be getting instructions from your leader. He has been fully briefed so listen up so we can avoid making mistakes as much as possible.

Group two gather around me i'll brief u guys.

Ok what we will be encountering in here will be the following:

This place is a breeding ground for all sorts of misguided orcs. Please look at our group and remember what people look like. Once in there we will be fighting groups of around 3-10 orcs at a time.

It is important that u can distinguish our enemies from our allies. Don't worry about our rogues though, u won't see them anyway.

These groups of orcs comprise of the following setup. Usually there is one mean orc surrounded by 2 wolves. He needs to be taken care off asap. Mages sheep him, or warriors tank him. Either way he goes down.

He can get enraged when he knows he is about to be taken out so make sure every blow counts.

Another high priority target are the orc warlocks. U all know how devious our own warlocks are well these are similarly annoying. No offense to you locky hihihi.

If he gets the chance he will open up a portal to the netherrealm and then we will have to deal with dozens of imps. So again, take him down clean and simple.

Other than that the rest of the orcs are easy targets. But don't get cocky. They are still legion so look around and make sure there are none left unaccounted for.

When we are further in, we will encounter some ogres. These thickskulled giants are slow but blunt. So when they DO manage to hit u be prepared for a stun or some serious damage. Lately they've also managed to learn magic.

I know I know, Stop ur sniggering. An ogre doing magic, haha. Just be prepared for them because their lightning bolts will fry your hairs straight off ur face.

Once we have made it into their den, we'll find the first real challenge. Highlord Omokk. Most of u will have heard of him. Some of u might be wearing some of the items u can loot off him when he goes down.

A tough ogre wearing armor plating. Guarded by 2 other ogres. The best way to tackle those is to sheep the mage, kill the ogre add and our main warrior will keep the boss distracted. All others (except healers) will be taking the adds down.

Once the adds are down, we take down Omokk quick and dirty. Any questions so far?

Good!

Next we will be facing misguided trolls. Mostly spellcasters. Keep an eye out for these buggers, they tend to run for reinforcements when they are losing.

Just make sure all are watched and we'll do fine.

Next we can go up against Shadow Hunter Vosh'gajin. She's a mean old bitch who hexxes ppl. So don't be surprised when she turns u into a frog.

Ok all stop the ribbiting...!

K guys focus!

This hag is guarded by 2 trolls. this is a fight where SHE needs to go down first. Otherwise she'll keep hexxing us and no chance of a heal when the healers are hopping around like a frog.

So team up on her and bring her down. She is known to carry a nice crossbow so chances are she has one this time.

From there on it gets nastier. Look out for constant patrols. As we take down another troll boss by the name of voone.

Not really a challenge and usually not carrying anything special but he is known to traffic gems and thats where we are after.

So just all pile up on him and go for the gems moohahaha.

After that we're in for a rough ride. We'll be facing more adapts orcs. These have practiced the dark arts.

So bring ur best fire protection and keep stunning these bastards. There is a chance Grimaxe is in there. He has been seen travelling back and forth between this place and his lair.

If he's there we might pursuade him to write down the pattern to craft an arcanite reaper. I'm sure our warlocks and rogue can make him do our bidding. *Evil grin*

Next we'll take down some cult who consider themselves special. They are a tight bunch so be prepared for mass encounters. But if we are gentle we may have a chance of picking them off one by one.

These guys possess knowledge of an epic cloth pattern. We will try to pick these knowledge from their brain. If not by torture then by blunt head trauma.

If u think u hear rattling when we are up against the cult u are correct. Soon after them we'll be facing a bunch of spiders.

These come in large packs carried by their mother. So when the mother dies the siblings detach from her body and charge in rage. Fire seems to work quite well agains them so blaze away.

We will be seeing Mother Smolderweb. For those of u who want to get poisoned by her be my guest. Just make sure u tell the healers to cure u yes or no. U can also gather eggs around the caves. I know some ppl who pay dearly for them.

Mother smolderweb is a real mother...

She can crytalize u with her webbings and it takes a while to get loose from them. So take her down quick.

Again her children will come to revenge her slaying. Fire is again our ally.

There is a chance crystalfang is lurking around. He is known to hump mother smolderweb from time to time. It is mating season so he might be around. If he is we'll take him down. His fangs are sometimes of pristine quality. Good enough to use as a dagger.

After that we'll attempt to draw out another ogre boss. He is a mean bitch with lots of cronies. Of course he first sends in his goons and only shows up to deliver the final blow. So preserve your mana and wait for him to unleash ur fury.

He is known to wear some nice boots and has been seen with some nice plate armor as well. Whatever it is we'll take it from his body.

Next up are some spectacular wolves. First we have a large wolve. And after we take down that one in comes his protector. That thing is frikkin huge. Halycon and Gizrul. Both can be taken down if we team up on them.

The big one is known to swallow ppl whole. So lets see what he spits out for us. Usually some nice armor in there.

We won't do the quartermaster. He's surrounded by too many orcs and I believe they take steroids or something. They just keep hitting and hitting and look like they feel no pain. I don't care much for an unfair fight.

And next to that the quartermaster usually carries some crap satchel filled with what he thinks is quality goods.

U usually can't do anything with it though so we're skipping him.

Next up is the boss we've gone in for. Wyrmtalak. Drakkisath's twin. He is weaker then his equal upstairs but can also be pain in the ass. At least he's dumb enough to surround himself with ogres instead of dragonkin.

He can be taken down but u guys really need to pull together on this one though. Also when he's fighting he calls for some backup. So watch your backs.

Thats it really. U have been buffed up. U have been given enough food and drinks. U have been given instructions.

Are u guys with me?

Allright lets go!

Group one and two MOVE OUT!

Listen for the Call to move in, protect our healers and display some fancy footwork!

Ok ok, Hoovework! Hahaha

Follow that bull everyone !

The Change (Apocalizz)?????It was in the early morning. The sunrays shined through the window and played catch with the locks of her dark hair as she looked in the mirror. Cold eyes stared back, so unlike the eyes of her family. She was the oldest girl in a family of priests and paladins, living in Stratholme.?????The air outside was warm and smelled like cooking fires and horses. Lost in thought, she jumped up as someone suddenly tapped on her bedroom window. A cat looked at her and smiled. It was her Druid friend Almyssa. She used her abilities to transform in a cat often for mischief, like jumping over the rooftops to reach her bedroom as she did now. ?So, little stranger?, she welcomed her. ?Are you hunting birds? You won?t find them inside here, so shoo!?. She flung her long white sleeve, but the only reaction she got from the rank cat was an arrogant little stare, and she changed into her natural form. Well, maybe natural was not the right word, since Almyssa felt as comfortable in her Cat skin, as she did in her Bear skin, as she did in her Elven form. She was as beautiful as a Night Elf as she was as a cat. ?You know I don?t hunt, Priest. But maybe I am looking for someone that can aid me on a quest. Someone as skilled in healing as the famous trainers of Darnassus. And I think I found that person.? ?????It was true. She was a healer. Not used to wearing plate armour like the Defenders of the Light, but geared in a white dress. Not able to hurt friend or foe, her magic only usable to heal, to prevent Death. Death was her enemy, but she was better then Death. But she was a Priest only because it was her only option. Her only skill. Her heritage. She did not do it with the love she saw with her fellow Priests. She was afraid that this life of always taking care of others was her faith, but something inside her was not willing to accept this. ??????What rumours of war and adventure did you hear now, Almyssa. Why are you so bored within the walls of this city? Life is nowhere as good as here in Stratholme.? The Druid suddenly looked very wary and worried. ?The patrols just came back with stories about Lordaeron. It?s really war now. There are whole legions of Orcs and Trolls and Tauren, while the Humans are dying, and not all by the weapons of the Horde. It?s a pest, a disease. The guards that came back to report are in panic. We need to help, we are qualified healers, we need to cure the poison that is spreading to the lands, before it reaches Lights Hope Chapel or even here!? ?????She was overcome by love for her friend. She had never seen Almyssa so despaired? ?Ok,? she said. ?Let me get my powders, potions, candles, and my Devout dress. I will meet you at the stables.? She went to the temple and made herself ready. When she entered the stables, her horse looked up hopefully and whinnied. Almyssa was ready too, dressed in her own gear, but she would soon change into her Travelform. At the main entrance of the city, they met their friend, guard Boras. He was stunned when he heard about their quest. ?Please come home safe, you both. Watch out for the merciless horde, stay away from the sick. Promise?? Of course, she promised. But she did not believe the wild rumours about a plague that swallowed life. Death had nothing against her. ?For the Alliance. For Prince Arthras.??????She screamed. She gave Snowflake a kick with her spurs and looked over her shoulder to see if Almyssa could keep up with her. The Druid ran as hard as she could, jumping over branches and holes in the road. If only they could reach Stratholme in time. They had to warn Uther Lightbringer and Prince Arthas. Their family. It was all true. She shook her head and tried to forget the images of the people with rotting flesh, of Orcs and Tauren and Humans and Night Elves fighting side to side, and against each other, screaming in despair as their flesh burned and sizzled. The image of the Lich?After what seemed eternity they reached the gates of Stratholme, where smoke arose and screams of anguish reached them. ?No!? Almyssa screamed. ?We are too late. Too late!? ?????Suddenly guards jumped in front of them. Guard Boras looked at them with a face of pain and hopelessness. ?Boras! Thank the Light, you are here, you are well. You have to help us!? Almyssa was near utter panic and jumped towards the bewildered Guard. ?I?m so sorry. So sorry, sorry, I have to, forgive me..? he murmured. Almyssa screamed a scream she would never ever forget, as Boras took his sword and swung it in Almyssa?s stomach. In disbelieve she looked at her friend as she fell down and stood frozen as Boras approached her. ?Im sorry.. I have to. Arthras ordered it. You are contaminated. Everyone is contaminated. You must die to save Stratholme?. As a reflex, she tried to cast a shield on herself, and she tried to heal Almyssa. But her magic wouldn?t cooperate. She cast a giant fireball instead, but even before she did she knew the ways of healing had left her. Her magic changed as her body changed. Healing became destruction as her former healthy body changed to match her eyes as she saw them in the mirror a couple of days ago. ?????Snowflake saved her, as the horse turned and ran away from the smell of madness and burning flesh. They ran and ran, but she didn?t know where to. It was too late already. She felt it. She felt her muscles tingle. But she didn?t care. It was all for nothing. Stratholme was dead. Her friends were dead. Death defeated her. She looked at Snowflake and saw the white vertebrae of his neck. The strings of meat hanging from his skull. Her nails were gone. Her beautiful dark hair reached to the sky. She smelled the smell of Death from her and Snowflake. Death finally defeated her. She couldn?t do anything. She could not resurrect her friends with their dead eyes. She could not heal them. Death defeated her by not killing. They were not dead so they could not be resurrected. They were not alive so they could not be healed??????Snowflake jumped and of course she fell off. She wasn?t there anymore, what did it matter. Then she saw what Snowflake was scared about. A female Troll and a female Tauren looked at her from the other side of the road. They looked horrible, savage. The Troll woman had a white tiger with her, ready to strike. She had a purple mohawk and a very impressive looking gun, with the loop aimed at her. The Tauren woman however looked at her with kind eyes, and it was then that she saw the same looks of horror and dismay in the eyes of the two enemies. ??????Don?t be afraid, child of the light? the Tauren said. ?You have been hurt so much already. In times like these, we can?t be enemies. Let me take care of you.? She willingly let the Tauren close, and she felt the tingly feeling of healing. ?Am I dead?? she asked. ?I can?t be dead. But still I am?am I human still?? She saw the look of disgust on the Troll?s face, and she knew the answer. ?You are not human, and you are not dead. You are Undead. You, are one of us now. That is why she can heal you now, where we before were enemies? The troll woman seemed to pity her now. ?My name is Liszenya. This is my friend Yorga. What is your name?? She didn?t know. She knew her former life was over. ?Call me Apocalizz, for I am the end of my world.? ?Well then Apocalizz. Let us embrace you in the Circle of the Death Angels. I think you have a lot to learn still, as I sense in you the powers of a mage. Call your new horse, he fits you still. We need to return to our home and tell what happened. We will train you there.? ?????More Taurens, Orcs, Trolls and even more Undead emerged from the trees. Liszenya called forth a Raptor, and Yorga a Kodo, and they took her to the city of Orgrimmar. On the trip she got to know these brave adventurers which called themselves the Death Angels. She would never forget her friends and Stratholme, but at that time she didn?t know she would often return there to avenge her friends and family?for the Horde.Second attempt, for Apo now. I liked reading your stories, any more coming up?/wave Lisz

Wow! You guys really took this thing to the extremes I'll be posting something else soon when it's done, It's gonna be a raid on Theramore with the Death Angels (i'll include all i can remember ) I've almost finished andit's about 3 pages long on word

I'm also gonna split it into 2 parts... You're gonna have to wait and see

We better get some more storage space for this forum then

Part 1 - Preperation for the raid.

1. Arkenel gazed at the city of Theramore with growing lust. It was such an obsolete city, in his eyes, mindless humans dotting to and fro from place to place ? such unneeded things like wads of Dwarven Mild and milk, and the wizards, even the ?most powerful? being amazed by a rune of portals and its intricate scribbling. He chuckled at the fact that they did not know what it read. Being a mage himself, he was dressed in fine robes weaved by his Guilds finest tailor, a rich blue that had the very essence of intellect wrapped round the felcloth threads. He enjoyed hearing the rumours of how it contained the blood of Arthas, or the only shed tear of Ner?zhul sprinkled upon it at its creation. The Garb of the Old Gods was a title he took a liking to.

?What are your commands, Warlord?? said a voice behind him.

?You need not call me that, Senaver. Not to your brother? He replied. Senaver was a Warlock ? though he was not strictly Arkenel?s brother, he was there at his awakening and they helped each other come to terms with what had happened. They were once both great casters of the Kirin Tor, the High Wizards of the Alliance ? but they died in the same battle, fighting back Arthas and his scourge at Dalaran but failing, as Dalaran was still overrun.

When they woke at the crypt, dazed, confused, they cried together at what they had become. Wept for days, wondering if they should leave the forsaken crypt or just let themselves deteriorate in there. Looking back on moments like those, Arkenel scoffed. Senaver nowadays was of above average rank in the Horde and the war on the Alliance, but still reported to his re-birth brother.

?I know.? Said Senaver, ?but its times like these I go all ?I-will-be-loyal-to-my-officer? type thing. So how does it look?? Arkenel took a glance at the city again.

?Disgustingly savage? he replied, watching two humans brawling over some buzzard meat in the town square. The brothers chuckled demonically, almost in unison. ?Send Kilrogg?? asked Arkenel.

?I could do? said Senaver, drawing a pentacle. ?How long do you have??

?As long as it takes? he replied. The Eye of Kilrogg was a spirit that was obedient to its master, and can see for miles around. Arkenel knew no more ? he wasn?t a demonologist.

?What should I be looking for?? He asked, kneeling over his pentacle with a stick of chalk.

?You know, armies, weapons? I want to know what to expect.? Replied Arkenel. ?Something for Grim to sink his teeth into!?

He let out a hearty laugh.

?I?m ready.? Said Senaver. ?Stand back a bit.? He warned, and Arkenel barely had time to leap from the pentacle as purple gases started to rise from within. Senaver had his eyes closed in concentration, muttering demonic words, while all the time, the smoke rose higher, and more plentiful.

Then without warning, an eye the size of a beach ball materialised in front of Arkenel?s face. It stared at him for a few more seconds, then began to waddle, with increasing speed, away from them and into Theramore.

?Hmmmmmm?? Senaver suddenly blurted in a trance-like state. ?Hmmmmmmm?? Arkenel?s fist clenched. He wasn?t even sure if he Senaver knew he was saying it. This ?deep thinking? of Senaver?s continued for several minutes. ?Hmmmmmmmm-?

?Will you stop that!?? he yelled, eventually loosing his patience. Then realizing what he had done, he swiftly put his hand to his mouth as if to silence himself from yelling out more position-giving phrases. He could hear the echo bouncing off the surrounding cliffs, and was sure the humans heard at least something. In fact, he felt almost as if the whole world heard him.

?We need to leave.? Said Senaver. ?Now.? He grabbed his brothers? arm and started the incantation to bring his Steed into Azeroth. ?Get on? he ordered. Arkenel was taken back for a moment ? it had been several months since he had been spoken to by someone who acted as though they had equal authority, and those persons became fewer every passing year. Riding on his brothers? demon-horse, foolishly abandoning his own to come to this hill to see the target city, and yelling as loud as he could at an occupied demonologist. He went quite red at his journey back to Brackenwall Village. Wigdar was gonna have something to giggle at tonight.

2. ?I?m telling you George, it?s mine!?

?Oh please! I most definitely saw you quite casually knocking it off the store and brushing it into your pocket!?

?You son of a-? but George never finished this particular sentence, as it was at this point that he lost the use of his left arm for six weeks. Brendan, quickly hiding his small hammer back into his trouser pocket, calmly placed a mangled and stretched roasted buzzard wing back on an old lady?s stall, and nodded and smiled at her in a proud fashion. The old lady?s jawbone hung several inches from the roof of her mouth, and he dreary eyes wide. Just as the unusual man started to walk away, he heard a deafening yell. A yell so loud, his ears ached at breakfast the next morning. He would remember it as someone with a very croaky voice asking for his top hat back.

Almost immediately after the noise finished rebounding in his ears, a pair of Gryphons ? Flying creatures, half eagle, half lion ? flew over-head and to the general direction of a tall hill that was never named in Theramore. Brendan heard a small boy near the right side of him screaming, and saw him pointing at ?people? that ran away behind the hill. Seeing George, the lower-class blacksmith, clutching his arm on the floor, he though this the best chance to see exactly how much money a blacksmith makes, and took off with his wallet as the rest of the population of Theramore were gaping at the sky above.

?Milady.? started a messenger as he entered Jaina Proudmoore?s office. She jumped. ?Oh! Oh, yes. What is it?? She had been writing the lawful permission that the citizens of Theramore could fish in the local river. Times like these were when she doubted her people?s intelligence. ?The hill, madam, there was a deafening yell and two Gryphons flew to it. It may well have been Horde.? This gave Jaina a reason to look at her visitor. ?Have they returned?? She inquired. ?The Gryphons or the Horde, madam?? He replied. Jaina sighed again.

?The Gryphons man, the Gryphons!? Do people not have a mind of their own anymore? ?Oh, uh...? he straightened up. ?They haven?t returned yet, milady.? Jaina stirred. If they haven?t returned, they are either dead or giving chase. She preferred the second option.

Jaina Proudmoore was the leader of the humans, and therefore leader of the alliance. As a child she was tutored by Anotonidas, a powerful wizard of Dalaran, and went on to be the lover of Prince Arthas. But when she realized of Arthas? corruption, she abandoned him. She went on to encounter Medivh, Thrall, and Aegwynn. As a younger Mage, her father Admiral Proudmoore was the leader of the Alliance. He was another one that was corrupted... his hatred for the Orcs was what drove Jaina to remove him. Jaina had confronted Thrall in a bid to make peace between their people. Admiral Proudmoore could not accept a community with both Orcs and humans, which was why she did what she did.

The young man started to slump, he been waiting for his dismissal which had, disappointedly, not come. ?Send a message to Fundel. We need a squad of Gryphon-Riders over there now; to be sure this doesn?t get any more serious.?

The messenger nodded. Everyone knew Fundel, he commanded the entire Theramorean Air Force ? and he did it well. Leaving the room without looking back, he ran out the Wizards Tower and into the city.

Jaina sat down, after she realized she had stood up giving her order. She didn?t know why this sighting worried her so ? it could have been anything... maybe someone was intelligent in her kingdom and was looking for a good fishing spot.

3.

?So... what did you see?? asked Arkenel anxiously.

?Trust me, you really don?t wanna know.? Replied Senaver.

?Try me. It?s my fault, I need to know.? he said in a casual fashion. He felt ashamed for being such an idiot.

?Everyone looked up. It?s like the world went silent. Two gryphons saw us and flew to the hill, but it didn?t have a rider? you know, those fuc-?

?Creeeaaaach!? The wail of a hungry gryphon spying its undead prey. Arkenel looked up, and saw the great bird plummeting down with force and its claws unsheathed. ?Slow down a bit!? he ordered Senaver, and the Felsteed quickly dropped its speed. Whipping round to have his back to his brother and focusing on the great bird, he began a spell that saved his life many times before.

His hands started glowing red fire, but he felt little heat on them as they grew brighter. Barking the last word of the fire spell, he held his arms in front of his skinny off-colour body.

Then a burning sphere of acknowledgeable size leapt from his clammy hands.

It struck the beast exactly as how Arkenel planned it would ? the space between the head and the chest, killing it painfully but swiftly. It took several seconds for the Gryphon to realize it was in agony. Falling from the sky, it landed in land of water near a Murloc camp. Chuckling at its ignorance, he turned back round to his brother ? who was no longer on his steed. Instead, he had been hoisted up to the air by the other gryphon, which flew on ahead with him in his claws. He could only gawp at the rancid bird holding his brother in his piercing claws, until he managed to close his jaw and to start summoning another spell. But just at that crucial moment, the Felsteed realized he no longer had a warlock behind his mane. Felsteed were not originally the anything-but-loyal pets of Warlocks? after the Burning Legion tripped, and Warlocks rose from the depths, they found these horses ideal for riding. And now that Warlock was not present, he saw his opportunity. Bucking his legs in order to knock off Arkenel and be free of the Forsaken, Senaver?s brother was thrown off the mount ? thus ruining the spell. His head smacked the rocks on the hard Cliffside of the Marsh?s edges, and he felt himself loosing consciousness. Crawling just a few metres, he collapsed on the floor. ?Mmmphhhhuggg?? Was all he could make from a figure in front of him before he passed out.

The final Journey

Whitestar Stood at the gates to the hall of wisdom. he thought back to the day he had first come here. it seemed like a life time ago, then he laughted to himself, remembering that it was. he had been sent by the warchief into Ragefire chasm, a coven of the burning blade deep within the earth and a haven for all manner of unspeakable demons. the memory brought up another, an ancient steely voice, unnatural and gutteral, laughing as he spoke "you would defy ME? i think you should be taught a lesson young orc" it was a glorious fight, and whitestar had sustained many wounds, only potions of healing an a kindly troll priest keeping him upright, but finally after what seemed like hours Taragamans head was loosed from his shoulders and his quivering corpse fell to the ground. had that been the end of that fight it would have been enough to secure great honor amoung the horde, but then as there leader collapsed numerous warlocks sprung out of the shadows to avenge him. cloth robes are however not good protection against daggers, especially those magically infused with fire. singlehandidly wiping out the burning blade coven had made him a favorite of Thrall that day. since then, Whitestar had been sent on many missions all over the world, going as far as the depths of Blackrock Mountain in the steepes of the eastern continent. it was there that his most important mission would take place, the rescue of the dwarven princess from the dark iron clan. it took days, but finally she was freed from the clutches of the Emperor Thaurissan. done in shadow of darkness, whitestar had performed admirably, removing guards that blocked the way so the rest of the band of adventurers could make there way to and destroy the seat of power in the dark dwarfs domain.

Whitestar was roused from his thoughts by Thralls advisor Mokvar, who told him to go in. whitestar paused for a moment, steeling himself for the warchiefs reaction when he told him what he was going to do.

Thrall Greeted Whitestar with the tradition "throm-kar" and whitestar bowed in respect, he knew where his loyaltys were.

"so what can i do for you today my old friend" enquired Thrall

"im afraid i have some bad news warchief" said Whitestar. Thralls face hardened, and beckoned whitestar to continue "after much deliberation, i must leave your service for a time, there are things i must take care of, personal matters that i shall not bore you with, but suffice to say i shall be missing for many months."

Thrall sat in silence for almost a minute, staring at the rogue, with a peculiar look in his eye. finally he said "i see, well old friend you have served the horde well for most of your life, i think you deserve a break. take good care of yourself"

"thank you lord, i am as always in your debt" said whitestar

"no you arent, it is we who are in yours, without you, we would already be over run with demons and cultists, on behalf of the nations of the Horde, i thank you"

with that whitestar turned to leave, as he was walking away thrall called out to him "i hope she's worth it!"

"she is my lord, she is" and with that whitestar vanished into the shadows.

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As he snuck around the city, observing for one last time the curious workings of a place with orcs, trolls, animated corpses and giant cows all living in harmony he snickered to himself, somethings never change. outside the auction house he saw some old friends, The warriors Grimgier and Deathstare, an orc and undead respectively, and Mastejo and Ruatek. the Tauren Druid and Shamen. how many times had they fought together? how many times had they saved each others lives? whitestar had lost count but theres was a bond of blood, and he could not go without bidding them farewell. he snuck up close and could hear grims familiar voice yelling an all to familiar chant "LOOKING FOR ONE MAGE FOR SCHOLO/STRAT" whitestar smilled to himself, somethings never change. he positioned himself behind mastejo, feeling dwarfed by the gigantic tauren and poked him hard in the ribs, instantly, far to quickly for a being his size should be able to mastejo spun and grabbed hold of whitestar like he was a straw doll, yelling "white! where have you been?"

mastejo put him down and whitestar said "i have something to tell you"

"whats that then?" said grim, adding "givf gold!" just for anyone who was listenings benefit.

"i have to leave" said whitestar "just for a while, there are things i need to take care of."

at that the group exploded in questions and demands "why, where are you going" "you cant leave" "we need you" whitestar waited for the commotion to die down before saying "im tired, i feel drained, ive been doing this for to long, i need a rest. i WILL be back, but until then, if you ever need me, i will be there" and with that whitestar thrust his ancient dagger, Bonescraped into the map of kalimdor on the wall and dissapeared. the rest of the group looked at the map, where the incision had been made and looked confusedly at each other. deathstare was the first to speak. "why would he go there?" "whats in felwood that's so important?" pipped up Ruatek...

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once he was well out of the city, whitestar slowed his trusty mount, the worg blackfang down to a slow trot "easy boy" he said "we have a long journey ahead of us, no need to tire yourself out so quickly" we will be there by nightfall, i just need to see it, for the journey ahead, then we can go on...

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whitestar dismounted at the borders of felwood and told blackfang to wait for him, the wolf hated going in there, and with good reason, it was a land twisted beyond all recognising through hate and the foul majiks of the burning legion that still inhanited the area. sneaking into shadows whitestar worked his way north, avoiding patrols and animals alike. once he was near the center, he turned due east for a few miles and came to a large cave mouth. there he saw it, just as it had been when he first came him, filling him with strenght, and a strange sadness. Grom had fallen so far, but even he could not turn his back on the Horde, and with his final act had freed all orc-kind for that he thanked the statue and placed a small flower, gromsblood at the base. later, after a few hours meditation whitestar snuck back to the boarder and was greeted by a wet lick on the face from blackfang. he scratched behind the massive wolves ears and rode off into the night...

PREPERATION FOR THE RAID PART 2

1. Only one Gryphon returned. That, she knew, was bad. jaina eyed the young gryphon impatiently, in the top of her Tower, and scowled. It was carrying something. Something... rotten. She squinted, hoping to get a more promising concept - when at last she realised it was carrying an Undead. A forsaken, she could see as it came closer. "So there was someone there" she thought to herself, and strode to the exit of her chamber, her lavish blue cape rustling at her move.

* * *

"Here he comes!" yelled Fundel. "Get the food!" he continued. He was of course talking about the young, limping Gryphon, flying in the most awkward pattern towards the flight master. It landed in a feathery heap, completely off target, and slipping into unconsciousness - with good reason.

Senaver, still completely alive, and not at all co-operative, had been continuously thrusting his bronze knife at the beasts chest and neck. Upon landing, though, he had been thrown several feet.

Rising quickly, and rubbing his eyes - he almost collapsed again. It was not until then that he understood where he was and what had happened. He yelled, a strong, bone-chilling battle cry, and started igniting the negligent dwarves. He wasn't even pausing to breath. With dwarves screaming, running blindly into walls and tripping over buckets and large stones, Senaver continued to cast the half-lings into fine ash... though he felt himself weakening with every cast. He was beginning to slow down, he could feel it in his mind, tensing from the constant strain and demand for more energy. But, teeth gritted, he knew he had to survive this - for the glory of his brethren.

Without warning, Fundel, who had been hiding behind a larger gryphon, jumped from his hidey-hole and came at Senaver from behind. Clasping his stout arms round the infuriated warlocks neck, and hoisting his legs up around his waist - Senaver exploded. He screamed so loud, and so valiantly, Fundel removed his arms from his neck, purely to put them to his ears in an attempt to muffle the sound. This tremendous noise literally controlling his thoughs, he simply ran.

Senaver was breathing so heavily the onlookers could see his shoulders and upper body bobbing up and down. He could do it, he thought. He just decimated a band of dwarves - he could take on the world.

Then Jaina appeared.

Standing a good foot taller than him, her long golden hair waving in the wind - that seemed to be comming from her herself. Her simple staff glowing, she only needed to twitch to send him in a complete lock. Senaver could not move, and hardly think with all these things happening so quickly. He knew, then, that he alone could not deafeat this scum of a city with such a being ruling it. Yes, he would be captured.

But for the good of his fellow Angels, almighty.

* * *

Arkenel awoke. Slowly at first, he grunted, testing his strength. Wiggling his limbs slightly, one at a time. When he then decided to open his eyes. And staring back at him was Scuzz.

"You're awake!" he said, taken back. Scuzz was one of the many most-trusted members of the Death Angels - a direct force of the Horde. Arkenel smiled. He had not known a Death Angels without a Scuzz. "You sound suprised!" He replied, and then entered a voilent coughing fit. "Take it easy. Do you even know what happened?" said Scuzz.

"Do I want to know?" he replied.

Scuzz sneered. "Tharg found you." Seeing Arkenel's puzzled face, Scuzz explained that Tharg was an Ogre. Scoffing, He realised the muffled sound he heard from Tharg before he passed out was probably what was actually said.

"So he took me to Brackenwall?"

"Yep. You weren't far - over by the northern cliffs. Mastejo did a pretty good job when you got here. You should thank him later. I had no idea he could do Brain Surgery." The Mage gasped. He felt his heart shudder and he dared to lift a hand at his throbbing head. "I'm kidding! I'm kidding!" said Scuzz, laughing uncontrollably, practically falling over. "Argh, you bloody..." said Arkenel, though he saw the humour and broke a smile. He loved being a Death Angel. When he lost his life to Arthas' Scourge, he thought his day was gone.

Then he met Wigdar.

He discovered his day had not even began. He quickly rose through the Horde ranks with Wigdar and his Death Angel's assistance. He made life-lasting friends, and had met people he thought you couldn't find anymore. He knew he was lucky, he was favoured by the Horde almost through chance, though others in the guild had equal, if not even better skills.

Scuzz left the hut in due time, and told his Clan-brother to get some rest. Agreeing, Arkenel returned to his bed - though he had no intention of sleeping. He could not sleep, not at such a fragile time. He needed to speak to someone. Well, not anyone. He needed to find Wigdar.

* * *

It didn't take him long. He put on a simple robe he found in his room, and crept out into the darkness - which startled him.

He assumed it was day, though he had no way of knowing. tiptoe-ing across the mud, he puased past at hut emitting loud,

familiar voices. Listening intently, he could make them out; Lost; Grim; Tizzi; Thes; Yorga; Ruatek; Liszenya... all drunk,

all cheery. Though he longed to join them, he knew he had business. Tiz would probably go all nuts about being up and about.

Arkenel allowed a broad smile. No-one was looking.

When at last he came to Wigdar's hut. He dismissed the two Ogre guards, and politely called his name.

"Ark?" he said, poking his head out the drapes. "Ark! Mon, what are ya doin' up? Yer must be freezin' mon, come in!" Arkenel entered, though he was nothing of the sort.

* * *

A straw hat was sitting on the table, with a needle lying neatly to its side. It seened Wigdar was fixing his hat at the time. "So" Said Wig, sitting down with two mugs of Boars Grog. "What's troublin' ye?"

"Well..." started Arkenel. "I feel like i've lost a large portion of my head..." and Wig let out an incredible laugh. "heh, that's understandable considerin' the sta'e you were in! You were lucky Mastejo was awake - I s'pose you have Grim to thank for that - he was playing Stick-or-Twist best out of 37 for the 800 Year Old Port. Doesn't give up, that Orc, does he?" He chuckled again.

"Hah, who won in the end?"

"Yorga. He nabbed it when Grim and Mast went to get ya." Arkenel had to laugh at that, if anything. But he knew now was the time to speak. "Wigdar. Wig. You may have noticed I didn't return with Senaver." Wigdar grew quiet, and looked away.

"Yes. I did. We had someone translate Tharg when you were out of the danger zone. He saw the gryphon." He turned back to face Ark. "He's gone, mon. You-"

"He's not dead." Said Arkenel bluntly.

"Listen-"

"No. We attack tomorrow. Now, we aren't only destroying the leader of the alliance. We're getting back Senaver."

Eugh, ffs... it screws up all the word format when you copy/paste it It was all laid out so prettiful Ahwell, ill post up the word doc too...

Word Version