AkuTazee
05-29-2006, 12:04 PM
The gates fell to the ground. A frenzy of movement shot out of the entrance to Alterac Valley, and the heavy breathing of all kinds of beasts filled the air. Kodo, wolves, raptors, and undead warhorses jocked for position in the stream of movement that flew past the manned outpost at Tower Point. Lieutanant Grummus stopped and shuffled off it's usual patrol path, allowing the influx to pass it, the entrails dangling from it's chest cavity swaying in the chilling winter breeze. A coalition of numerous races prepared for battle. Dark lines stretched across the cloudless sky above as wave upon wave of carrion birds screeched their delight.
Battle lines were formed, and the blackened ground of the Field of Strife crunched under hundreds of boots as troops dismounted. The defenders of Iceblood took up their stations, and catapaults were rolled into place. Arrows were notched. Swords were drawn from scabbards, and axes were unsheathed. The mass of determined bodies pressed ever forward upon the charred ground pockmarked with smoking craters and the decaying corpses of the previous day. To the north rose the tall spire that was the armored abode of Balinda Stonehearth. No one paid attention to the fortress. All eyes fell upon the large group of soldiers in front of it, the movement of dark shapes that moved south en masse. Both armies were prepared.
Time itself seemed to stand still. An eerie silence permeated the air, as if agreed upon by the elements and the earth itself. The calm before the storm.
An innumerable amount of hearts accelerated. Adrenaline shot through the veins of all those in the front lines. Trepidation mixed with excitement, foreboding, and dread. Many stared into the face of the beast that threatened to swallow them whole. Resignation compromised some, and they threw fear to the winds and merely accepted their fate.
Stretching of sinew could be heard to the north. Officers stood ready to give orders. Far above, in the evening sky, an early star came into view. And then another, and then another. The Horde, assembled in rank and file, gazed, transfixed at the fiery balls that plummeted towards the ground. And then the silence shattered like a pane of glass.
"BALLISTA!"
Battle lines were formed, and the blackened ground of the Field of Strife crunched under hundreds of boots as troops dismounted. The defenders of Iceblood took up their stations, and catapaults were rolled into place. Arrows were notched. Swords were drawn from scabbards, and axes were unsheathed. The mass of determined bodies pressed ever forward upon the charred ground pockmarked with smoking craters and the decaying corpses of the previous day. To the north rose the tall spire that was the armored abode of Balinda Stonehearth. No one paid attention to the fortress. All eyes fell upon the large group of soldiers in front of it, the movement of dark shapes that moved south en masse. Both armies were prepared.
Time itself seemed to stand still. An eerie silence permeated the air, as if agreed upon by the elements and the earth itself. The calm before the storm.
An innumerable amount of hearts accelerated. Adrenaline shot through the veins of all those in the front lines. Trepidation mixed with excitement, foreboding, and dread. Many stared into the face of the beast that threatened to swallow them whole. Resignation compromised some, and they threw fear to the winds and merely accepted their fate.
Stretching of sinew could be heard to the north. Officers stood ready to give orders. Far above, in the evening sky, an early star came into view. And then another, and then another. The Horde, assembled in rank and file, gazed, transfixed at the fiery balls that plummeted towards the ground. And then the silence shattered like a pane of glass.
"BALLISTA!"