Fhenrir
10-12-2006, 10:04 AM
The sounds of war came crashing through Alterac Valley once again. The offensive forces of both factions had made staggeringly fast progress to the opposition’s General, tearing through the defenses like tissue paper. However, not all was quiet in the Field of Strife…
Fhenrir snarled loudly as he literally leapt from his wolf and crashed into the snow, sending a wave of it flying in front of him as he skidded to a halt. A scrawny human found himself unfortunate enough to be in front of the warrior at the time, and covered his face as the snow blasted over him. Fhenrir snapped his arms behind his back and grabbed the hilt of his sword, unhooking it and holding it up high over his head as he roared fiercely. The human took a step back, eyes widening as he frantically reached for a dagger at his side, the lumbering beast of a tauren charging right at him.
The human literally split in two as Fhenrir’s sword came crashing through him and stuck into the ground, blood spilling over the blade and staining the snow beneath the two crimson. Fhenrir simply wiped the blood from his face and growled lowly before scanning over the field. A group of three elves was approaching the field atop their mounts. Fhenrir quickly assessed them as a priest and two warriors.
Fhenrir grinned evilly to himself as he secured a small buzzing cap onto his skull and stomped slowly towards them. The elves slowed their mounts and readied their weapons as they noticed the tauren approaching.
As the elves hopped from their steeds and began to creep up to Fhenrir, a look of shock suddenly crossed the priest’s face as Fhenrir reached up to his cap and clicked a red button on it’s side. The elf suddenly dropped to one knee, clutching at her head and shrieking.
The two warriors glanced over their shoulders and watched as the priest slowly rose to her feet, a cold blank expression replacing her terror. Before they knew what was happening, the tauren behind them was barreling down on top of the two and hacking away at their armor. The warriors turned to defend themselves against the onslaught, but an expression of shock crossed their faces as their former comrade began to flay their very minds.
On two-sided attack was too great for the warriors, and soon they fell in a bloody heap before the warrior’s giant blade and the priestess’ shadow abilities. As the second fell atop the first, the priest’s expression suddenly reverted to horror as her mind became her own once more.
The last thing she saw was a giant sword come flying in towards her from above, stained with the blood of her deceased brothers.
Fhenrir roared again as he stood over the group of elves, and turned his attention out to his broader surroundings. His allies from the front line called out for reinforcements, and the Horde’s surviving defense had broke and fled from the battle.
He quickly whistled for his wolf and spurred it’s side to carry him to the front line, but suddenly he stopped it as horns blared through the whole of the valley. The Frostwolf General had fallen.
Fhenrir sighed to himself and hopped from his mount. He reached for his hearthstone as he thought to himself. “The Frostwolf General has suffered wounds before… our shamans will be able to fix him back up. It will just take time. Gah, I shouldn’t have failed him so…”
Fhenrir dropped his hearthstone and looked at his surroundings in the Field of Strife. The corpses of fallen allies surrounded him, only some would be brought back by the shamans of the Horde. The bodies of the Alliance were scattered along the snow, and drawing a visible line between many of them were bloody hoof-prints.
Fhenrir glanced back to his bloody sword as he thought about how many lives he had ended that day alone, and his thoughts drifted to his life outside of the battle-field. He frowned as he thought about how many people would be affected if he had fallen in the battle, and a tear formed in one eye as he thought about how his wife would react. He looked again at the remains of the rogue he had cleaved in two just a moment before, and he sniffed audibly as he tried to hold his tears back.
As the freezing lines ran down his cheek he was reminded of where he was… and the horns of battle sounded again.
Fhenrir snarled loudly as he literally leapt from his wolf and crashed into the snow, sending a wave of it flying in front of him as he skidded to a halt. A scrawny human found himself unfortunate enough to be in front of the warrior at the time, and covered his face as the snow blasted over him. Fhenrir snapped his arms behind his back and grabbed the hilt of his sword, unhooking it and holding it up high over his head as he roared fiercely. The human took a step back, eyes widening as he frantically reached for a dagger at his side, the lumbering beast of a tauren charging right at him.
The human literally split in two as Fhenrir’s sword came crashing through him and stuck into the ground, blood spilling over the blade and staining the snow beneath the two crimson. Fhenrir simply wiped the blood from his face and growled lowly before scanning over the field. A group of three elves was approaching the field atop their mounts. Fhenrir quickly assessed them as a priest and two warriors.
Fhenrir grinned evilly to himself as he secured a small buzzing cap onto his skull and stomped slowly towards them. The elves slowed their mounts and readied their weapons as they noticed the tauren approaching.
As the elves hopped from their steeds and began to creep up to Fhenrir, a look of shock suddenly crossed the priest’s face as Fhenrir reached up to his cap and clicked a red button on it’s side. The elf suddenly dropped to one knee, clutching at her head and shrieking.
The two warriors glanced over their shoulders and watched as the priest slowly rose to her feet, a cold blank expression replacing her terror. Before they knew what was happening, the tauren behind them was barreling down on top of the two and hacking away at their armor. The warriors turned to defend themselves against the onslaught, but an expression of shock crossed their faces as their former comrade began to flay their very minds.
On two-sided attack was too great for the warriors, and soon they fell in a bloody heap before the warrior’s giant blade and the priestess’ shadow abilities. As the second fell atop the first, the priest’s expression suddenly reverted to horror as her mind became her own once more.
The last thing she saw was a giant sword come flying in towards her from above, stained with the blood of her deceased brothers.
Fhenrir roared again as he stood over the group of elves, and turned his attention out to his broader surroundings. His allies from the front line called out for reinforcements, and the Horde’s surviving defense had broke and fled from the battle.
He quickly whistled for his wolf and spurred it’s side to carry him to the front line, but suddenly he stopped it as horns blared through the whole of the valley. The Frostwolf General had fallen.
Fhenrir sighed to himself and hopped from his mount. He reached for his hearthstone as he thought to himself. “The Frostwolf General has suffered wounds before… our shamans will be able to fix him back up. It will just take time. Gah, I shouldn’t have failed him so…”
Fhenrir dropped his hearthstone and looked at his surroundings in the Field of Strife. The corpses of fallen allies surrounded him, only some would be brought back by the shamans of the Horde. The bodies of the Alliance were scattered along the snow, and drawing a visible line between many of them were bloody hoof-prints.
Fhenrir glanced back to his bloody sword as he thought about how many lives he had ended that day alone, and his thoughts drifted to his life outside of the battle-field. He frowned as he thought about how many people would be affected if he had fallen in the battle, and a tear formed in one eye as he thought about how his wife would react. He looked again at the remains of the rogue he had cleaved in two just a moment before, and he sniffed audibly as he tried to hold his tears back.
As the freezing lines ran down his cheek he was reminded of where he was… and the horns of battle sounded again.