Sinthe
08-25-2006, 10:26 PM
A lone Elven warrior stood atop the path in the Silithus desert, knowing her masters would be pleased. By her blade a powerful Forsaken mage had fallen, for good. She slowly turned around and looked back, as the swirling sky turned a from a deep red to a violet, the buzzing from the Silithid hives the only noise breaking the silence of the twilight. As she walked away into the Un'Goro crater, she mused over the events in her head.
“Melora, you have no idea what you're getting yourself into!” her trainer had warned. “Those Forsaken are absolutally insane, they will show you no mercy if you falter, and your target... Your target is powerful, by anyone's standards!” Her self-appointed task seemed like a suicide mission to everyone else around her. She would prove them all wrong, and she would rid Azeroth of this wretched Lich.
Alone she marched out of Darnassus, carrying only a few days worth of provisions and her armaments. Through Rutharian Village and across the sea into Darkshore, she was of little notice. She stuck to herself, refusing the company of any others. This was a task for her, and her alone. The gryphon master at Darkshore simply nodded at her as he collected her silver, and sent her away to Cenarion Hold.
Upon arrival, she immediately set course southeast, towards Hive Regal. As she drew nearer the hive, she knew she was closing in upon her target. The mage was surrounded by an aura of negative energy which she could easily sense before he was even in sight. She drew nearer, and saw him deep in meditation on the edge of the hive. Suddenly, he stood up and slowly raised his hand above his head, chanting in a strange tongue. This is the moment she chose to strike, and with all her might she charged him with her flaming greatsword, aiming for his neck.
The blade found it's target, and the mage went silent, fell to his knees, and began to cough up a vile black-reddish substance. She pulled the sword from his neck, and he turned around to see his assailant. Melora saw another opening as he turned, and she cleaved at his neck with the razor sharp edge of her sword. A second later, the mage fell down headless, with more of the black-reddish liquid pouring out onto the sand. She wiped her blade on his rich blue robes, and began to dig through his pack, trying to find the identity of the undead. As she pulled out a small pocket watch, her cold face let out a slight grin.
She flipped it open and gasped. The Frost Lord, Archmage Skyze Val'Thoxis, had fallen at last.
“Melora, you have no idea what you're getting yourself into!” her trainer had warned. “Those Forsaken are absolutally insane, they will show you no mercy if you falter, and your target... Your target is powerful, by anyone's standards!” Her self-appointed task seemed like a suicide mission to everyone else around her. She would prove them all wrong, and she would rid Azeroth of this wretched Lich.
Alone she marched out of Darnassus, carrying only a few days worth of provisions and her armaments. Through Rutharian Village and across the sea into Darkshore, she was of little notice. She stuck to herself, refusing the company of any others. This was a task for her, and her alone. The gryphon master at Darkshore simply nodded at her as he collected her silver, and sent her away to Cenarion Hold.
Upon arrival, she immediately set course southeast, towards Hive Regal. As she drew nearer the hive, she knew she was closing in upon her target. The mage was surrounded by an aura of negative energy which she could easily sense before he was even in sight. She drew nearer, and saw him deep in meditation on the edge of the hive. Suddenly, he stood up and slowly raised his hand above his head, chanting in a strange tongue. This is the moment she chose to strike, and with all her might she charged him with her flaming greatsword, aiming for his neck.
The blade found it's target, and the mage went silent, fell to his knees, and began to cough up a vile black-reddish substance. She pulled the sword from his neck, and he turned around to see his assailant. Melora saw another opening as he turned, and she cleaved at his neck with the razor sharp edge of her sword. A second later, the mage fell down headless, with more of the black-reddish liquid pouring out onto the sand. She wiped her blade on his rich blue robes, and began to dig through his pack, trying to find the identity of the undead. As she pulled out a small pocket watch, her cold face let out a slight grin.
She flipped it open and gasped. The Frost Lord, Archmage Skyze Val'Thoxis, had fallen at last.