Visca

The Final Crusade

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“We got him! We got him! Prince Kael’thas is no more!” As this voice traveled through Sun’s Reach in Quel’danas, a large crowd would start to form around a group of five people. “He escaped once, but not this time!”

Draco moved to stand before being halted, Voren’thal had come to the Isle today much to the Offensive’s surprise. “Sir… they killed—“

“He is but a pawn now.”

“Voren’thal? Are you sure you are feeling well? This is the enemy we, The Scryers, have been trying to bring down for far too long! And they killed him!”

“This… does not bode well. The Storm has hit in full.”

Draco looked concerned, he understood ‘The Storm’ more than most… he preached of it for sometime… before Leoren’s Trial… “Sir…” But before he could continue, they were interrupted by another Blood elf.

“We have the new reports. The plans seem more… aggressive than usual.”

Draco and the Seer looked at each other for a moment, before Draco did stand this time. “Very well, then. Seems we must tell our Dranaeic allies of the news...”

“Vis—Vis cannot be… Vis soon?”

“I understand the concern Vindicator, but it seems that yes, the War has reached the high point. According to the reports we have—“

“Three days?” The Dreanei said overlooking the report himself.

“Yes. Tell the rest of your Aldor kind, we have no time to waste.” Such was the way they still talked to others. Even in the Offensive, some issues remained hard to forget. Draco still received their taunts as well, so the feeling was indeed mutual. As he walked away, leaving the stunned Vindicator… too stunned to even pay attention to the faction comment… Draco would quickly activate his communicator, ready to page the elf he trusted most:

“Cerryan… the time has come. The Final Crusade is upon us.”

Behind him, the Shattered Sun Offensive would be working quickly, preparing to send their envoys to Shattrath. Much needed to be done. Far too much, and in such a short time frame.

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"Three days."

Vilmah wasn't accustomed to listening in on other people's conversations, but the intensity of those words caught her attention. Sitting with a book open against the large steps, she glanced up towards the draenai who were conversing with a Blood Elf envoy. They spoke Orcish, which she supposed must have been their commonly used lanuage. It certainly was convenient.

"--war has reached a high point. According to this, there is no time to waste."

The orcess blinked. A high point? The Aldor certainly hurried about their business quicker than usual. Frowning slightly at this revelation, Vilmah stood and put her book away. Sanctuary had to be notified of the possible plunge into danger they would be facing.

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Cerryan sat at the edge of the landing above the Seer's Library, looking out over the glowing city of Shattrath. He would do this often, taking in the beauty of the resplendant Terrace of Light, when he wasn't off protecting his allies against the various threats to the world, the same friends that she once fought beside. He could come here frequently as of late, blessed with a temporary break in the fighting, a time of relative peace. Some said it was the calm before the storm, but in truth any rest from the wearying work of keeping the world safe was more than welcome. Things were not perfect, to be sure, but every step forward brought the world closer to blessed warmth of the Light.

"Cerryan...the time has come. The Final Crusade is upon us." The trinket around his neck, emblazoned with the crest of the Order of Eversong, hummed softly as he heard the words of his leader, his friend. The paladin stood, rising from his calming reverie. A look of determination fell over his face; he knew the meaning behind Draco's words. The time was soon coming to end the malaise that plagued his people, bringing them closer to their salvation.

As he headed towards his personal storage to obtain the arms and armor he knew would be needed for the coming storm, he noticed a hurried group of elves dressed in the armor of the Shattered Sun Offensive speaking quickly with many of the Scryers on the tier. Further away, on the Aldor rise, similar messages were being given. In short order, the Horde and Alliance both would be well aware of what was to come.

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"Huh?"

Xaraphyne blinked over the edge of her mug before she put it down. One of her drinking companions, a scarred orc who had arrived in Booty Bay in search of mercenary work just that evening, only nodded in confirmation of his astounding words. Around them, the tavern was set abuzz with the news. The green-skinned troll to her left let out a whoop.

"'Bout time someone got that bastard! Bartender, the next round's on me!"

Xara leaned back, not picking her drink back up just yet. So someone had finally finished off Kael'thas. As the news sank in, it came with a flurry of new thoughts and considerations. So much would change. Ironically, two years ago she wouldn't've known who Thrall was; now she found herself considering how the death of the blood elves' former leader would impact the world. Not to mention doing that instead of getting blind drunk. The trolless grimaced and pushed back her chair to take her leave of the tavern, her drink unfinished and free round unclaimed.

There were people she had to find.

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Out in Nagrand, Taknar sat on a floating isle near the south east; his little corner of paradise. From below, no one would think anything of it if not for the deep throated cackling that carried through the air. He relaxed against a tree, his normally white robes stained with drops of fresh fallen blood. Following the trail of blood up from where it fell, an observer near by would be able to see the old troll conversing with a large humanoid head that he had stuck on his hand.

"Ah be bein' 'Ex Lord Mahlacross," Taknar bragged sarcastically while he played with his new puppet. "Be lookin' at dis troll, playin' tricks on da Loas. Be lookin' at dis troll, pretendin' ta be Taknah!" With a cackle and a spit, Taknar threw the head over the edge of the island towards the small Draenei village of Telaar. "Be makin' dis troll take da blame fa ya schemin' ways, 'uh? Ya be gettin' wha' ya deserve."

As he leaned over to watch the skull land on the ground, Taknar heard the sound of drums coming from the village below him. Cheers ran out and small forms danced among the waterfalls and the trees. Casting his conciousness downward towards a visible guard, Taknar was able to use his Mind Vision to hear the cause of the wonderfully excited, if horribly caterred, celebration. "The Blood Elf king is dead! The Naaru prepare to strike against the Sunwell! Victory is in sight!"

With a sigh, Taknar sat back down on the island. " 'ell, dat be bein' ah short break indeed." He got up to go, leaping off the island towards Garadar and the Wyvern that would take him to the front lines.

Now, if only he could remember where he put those light feathers...

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((text It looks like that, I think, Taknar. Just quote someone who has it, its what I did!))

Iricillian sighed softly at the news of Kael'thas' death. Ignorant of his Wretched state, he still remembered Kael as the powerful prince whom he had followed from burning hell to the cold north. Saying a quick, unanswered prayer that his soul may rest in peace, he stood up quickly and suddenly, disturbing the few mana-puffers near him.

Tossing the rest of his mana-thistle in his mouth and chewing it on the go, he took the Scryer's elevator down to the main level of Shattrath, where he took the uncomfortable portal-ride to Silvermoon City, and from there to his house within the walls.

Donning the plate armor that held so many bloody memories, he looked at himself in a mirror. He would now be fighting against the same demonic force he had fought before. Shuddering as images appeared in his head, he picked up his sword, then left to pack his backpack for another skirmish.

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The flurry would be noticeable even from the air. Elf and Dreanei would be running from building to building, dodging the constructed Arcane Golems who kept their rounds.

Draco would remain in his grey-white armor, his blade at his side and his Shattered Sun issued shield on his back. He’d put the emblem he had just spoken through back at his belt, sighing as he closed his eyes, searching for peace. Kael’thas was dead. At long last, the traitor to his people had fallen. At the end of the war, the Order of Eversong… their goals would succeed. He smiled at this, to see all his work so close to fruition.

“Sir?”

Draco would open his eyes, feeling a slight burning sensation in them, before looking at the person behind him who interrupted his thoughts, his face serious again. “Yes?”

“We need you, sir.”

“Very well.” Draco sighed, before following the elf.

As he entered the room he was lead to he’d see a council of sorts. Dreanei and Blood Elf were the most prominent. But he could see a couple of the other races, to him they would all have to leave once Kil’jaden was dealt with, but that was neither here nor there currently.

The first to speak was a Blood Elf magister from Silvermoon, they had been converted to the side of the Shattered Sun when the Felbloods had come for their ‘visit’ in the Blood Knight Head Quarters “So, everyone has seen the reports?” There would be mutterings for a moment, all affirming this. “Good. Now that the traitor had been dealt with we—Visca! Come have a seat, I see you’re ready for the action already.” He smirked as motioned to the chair beside him. Draco reluctantly did so, still untrusting of the Magisters he had fought for some time now… “Where was I? Oh, yes, the Traitor has been dealt with, so we can expect some retaliation.”

“Retaliation?” A Vindicator asked, obviously annoyed with the pompous Elf as well.

“Yes, my big blue friend, you see… even though Our government has renounced him, certain loyalists have not. I’m sure they will want to avenge their fallen leader.” The Vindicator and the Elf looked at each other in almost glaring eyes; before the Dreanei could speak the Magister was talking again. “Obviously this could cause… complications. I am authorizing you to use deadly force against these scum as well.”

The Vindicator spoke up again, “Authorizing us?” A tone of anger could be heard in his voice, “We do not work for you, Elf. We are here by the Naaru.”

“If you say so… thing… But, you are on Sin’dorei land, and you will obey Sin’dorei law.” The Elves tongue getting sharper as well before his speech went into Thalassian, “Lawless ingrate” he smirked as he looked at Draco again.

The Vindicator was furious at this point, raising his hammer as he bellowed, “HOW DARE YOU SPEAK IN SUCH A MANNER AS TO ASSUM—“

A human would put his hand to his comrade’s chest, whispering “Light calm you, they need the example.”

The Dreanei would glare at his friend for a moment, before glaring back to the Elf, “Blessings on your family.” He spat out, obviously not meaning it as he walked out of the room. The amusing part being there was no family to this elf either… who scowled a moment, finally silent for once.

Draco took this moment himself to stand, he disliked this pompous fool, but he did have a point, they did have reason to suspect attacks before they began to summon the Eredar into their world. “Though Magister Sunward presented poorly, he does have a point. The war will heat up; we cannot simply send our forces into the Plateau. We will have to defend our position as well. We have less than three days to gather our strike force, equip them, deploy them, and to rally our troops in our defense. Much is needed to be done in preparation, I suggest we get started.”

Sunward apparently wasn’t done yet, “And I nominate Draco Visca to head the war effort.”

Draco looked over to the Magister, “Why?”

“You have experience in fighting something much bigger than yourself and succeeding. Do you not remember what you were before the Offensive? The Trial? Well orchestrated, and you got out alive. I’m impressed.” Draco opened his mouth about to protest, “Don’t try to be humble, it doesn’t suit you. All in favor?”

The Scryers were all in for him, the a few of the members of the Aldor planned on speaking out, but the Magister spoke before they could, “Good! Then it’s settled. Draco, lead your army.” Sunward got up and before leaving the room asked, “And your first order of business?”

“Arm the Wards, and stop the Wretched menace from interfering for once and for all.”

The Aldor grumbled as they left, Draco left there wondering what exactly just happened.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sunward would be at his desk, writing his report when Magister Bloodsworn came in.

“So, was it a success?”

“Yes, he’s their general now. He’s sure to be a primary target of the Legion.”

“Good, good. Pitting the Traitors against each other… brilliant if I do say so myself.”

“Yes, Brilliant indeed.”

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Cerryan stepped through the portal to Quel'Danas, the safe, calming environs of Shattrath fading away, replaced by the chaos of an army preparing for war. Shouting from Aldor, Scryer, and adventurer alike mixed into a cacaphony of sound as orders were barked out, names were called, and perparations were made for the largest mobilization of the Shattered Sun Offensive since the initial sieging of the isle. One particular order caught the paladin's pointed ear, as two elven scouts ran by in a hurry, with directives to prepare the arcane wards around town, assigned by 'General' Draco Visca.

As he made his way through the hurried masses of soldiers, clerics, and arcanists, he stopped a passing elf, mage by the looks of him, and asked where he could find Sir Visca. "-General- Visca" he was quickly corrected, "is directing his troops in the center of town." Cerryan stood dumbfounded for a moment, giving the mage time to move by and continue his business. Confused, but driven by a sense of urgency, he moved to the statue and the center of Sun's Reach, and did in fact see Draco there, Shattered Sun soldiers taking his orders and following his commands with haste and complete compliance.

"You called for me, er....General?"

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Naheal decended the ramp from the portal between Quel'danas and Shattrath City. "Vindicator." He jerked his head towards a draenei. He didn't smile, just kept a solemn expression. "We're preparing. Please report to the center of town. We'll find someone who can help you." He nodded and continued towards the center of town, seeing a grouping of Scryers towards the center of town, as well as a scattered group of Aldor, many busy with their own tasks.

He looked to one of the passers by, not even noticing their Scryer's tabard. "Excuse me, who's in charge here."

"What? Like it's tell a traitor like you?" He spat on Naheal's Aldor tabard and continued on. Naheal sighed and shook his head.

We're not going to get through this if we don't work together.

"Vindicator Malastar." He jerked his head towards a Draenei. The draenei was speaking in draenei, very little of which Naheal actually understood. After a confused look, he began speaking in common. "General Visca is in charge. I'm certain the Aldor would be happy to have someone such as you to help out." Naheal nodded.

"Very well. Follow the general's orders as if they came directly from the Naaru. If I'm right, we'll need every bit of cooperation in this. Understood?" The Draenei nodded and saluted.

Naheal took off in a light jog, his orange crystaline armor gleaming in the hot sun. He approached Draco, giving a slight nod to Cerryan. He saluted. "General Draco Visca of the Order of Eversong, Vindicator Naheal Malastar of the Aldor reports as ordered."

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Draco was facing mounted Shattered Sun soldiers; among them was one Blood Knight and a Farstrider, one human SI:7 operative, and a Kal’dorei druid. “These Wretched are destroying our wards as fast as we are able to repair them. Today, we take care of the problem. We have no time for their disruptions. Now, men move—“

"You called for me, er....General?"

“—Out?” Draco’s tone changing in the interruption, his face showing the determination he needed to portray in his position. Gladius’s youngest… and look where he was now; leading a full out war against an age old enemy of the peoples of Azeroth. As he saw who it was, his expression changed once again. “Cerryan! Good to see a friend at these times.” As he struggled to get back into his role, “I have something I need to discuss with you… later.”

As the two men were talking, another Elven Paladin would approach the general, giving a slight nod to Cerryan. He saluted. "General Draco Visca of the Order of Eversong, Vindicator Naheal Malastar of the Aldor reports as ordered."

As he heard the former ally, and saw the salute… he had very mixed feelings. On one side, he was proud that his, or at least in his eyes, former student had returned in a time of the Order’s greatest accomplishment… finishing the war they started. Another feeling was that of grief, this man had caused a lot of hardship when he left… Draco had not forgotten… Pride and Suspicion, this was a bitter sweet to see Naheal Malastar again. “Uther… give me strength.” He murmured before responding with a strong salute back, “Welcome Malastar. I am happy to see our Aldor allies have entrusted me enough to send their ranks amongst us.” He would have to watch this one… to ensure he didn’t try to stab him in the back again, but… he hadn’t tried in the Silvermoon Massacre after all.

Draco would clear his head with a deep breath as he motioned to them to get in the formation as well. “Back to the objective; these Wretched must be dealt with, as they are a potential hazard when we are in the middle of the battle. If not dealt with now, they may in fact turn the tide in our enemy’s favor in their insatiable need to feed on mana. We cannot afford this risk.” Beckoning his skeletal horse, he’d mount up, draw his sword and shield then his steed reared as he called, “All prepared?”

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Naheal moved to formation, whistling for his wolf mount. His expression still solemn, he spoke a prayer, "May the Naaru guide and protect us all. May those who still have light somewhere in their hearts find a path that we show them, and our blades find the hearts of those who have been consumed by dark." A few draenei nodded to the prayer. Naheal drew the Sunwell Blade to his side.

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"Hunting wretched, eh?"

Agnarr Bloodmourne slid the shield granted him by the Shattered Sun collective off his back and on to his arm as he walked his talbuk closer.

"You'll have to excuse my entrance, but I was unaware that there was anything organizing here until I happened across this...gathering." Agnarr nodded briefly to Naheal.

"My blade and my shield are yours, should you need them." The Forsaken warrior brought his shielded arm to his chest, a plated fist covering his shoulder, in a salute.

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“I have no issue with you joining us, Forsaken.” Draco smiled and nodded at the new comrade, biting his tongue at the Aldor Prayer… Being a member of the Scryers was impossible to forget, after all. “In fact, I embrace it. The more soldiers we have in this trying time, the better chance we shall succeed in the up-in-coming battle. Now, Move Out! And try your best to avoid Dawning Square, the later they learn about us… the less prepared they will be for our Judgment Day.”

“Sir! Wait! Before you go out… we need your party to do something else as well.”

Draco looked over at the approaching solider, a ranger from the Farstriders, “Speak, what do you need of us?”

“Take these, and regain our sentries.”

Draco would nod, “Very well. You heard her, men! Take a sack of the new cores and let us be out our way! For Quel’danas!” He hollered trying to keep the men rallied as much as he could, this was going to become a routine objective, sending men out here as much as he could… but, this one was to show that he too was going to fight the fight. He would be side by side with the men, as that was his philosophy when it came to the Order as well.

…All this ran through his mind, before his charge lead him to the first Wretched. Draco’s sword drawn and at the ready, the addict’s head would roll on the ground.

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Taknar stepped out of the portal that had been set up in Shattrath for the purposes of quickly getting to the island, and was greeted by an arrow shooting straight through his ear.

"Watch your head," a soldier had called out. "Don't you know you're in a war zone?"

Taknar raised his arm and prepared to lecture the young archer, but noticed that the archer had turned back to take more shots at the mounted flying attackers around them. Instead of pointing his finger in shame, he concentrated on the attacker that the archer was aiming at and closed his fist slowly. A flash of light from his hand came a moment later, followed by a pillar of fire engulfing the assailant, mount and all. The mounted elf instinctivly covered his eyes with his hands to ease the burning, allowing the young archer a clear shot at his neck. "Dat be bein' 'ow ya need ta be doin' it," Taknar told the archer as he jumped down off the platform that the portal rested on. "Don't ya be knowin' dat dis be bein' ah wah zone?" With a cackle, Taknar left the archer to continue the fight and headed towards the harbour and the small outpost located there.

After asking around at the outpost, Taknar was informed that he should find the general who had led a small foray into the forest to cut down the numbers of the Wretched there. It didn't take very long to find the group; they weren't exactly trying to be subtle. They were far enough away from the Legion's main forces that they wouldn't be heard though. Without a word, Taknar ran up behind the team and whispered a prayer to Zanza to help the soldiers endure. He could see faces now, and recognized a few of the pack. Nodding to Naheal and Agnarr as he passed, he walked up to the elf in the lead who he recognized as the leader of the Order of Eversong that he had healed during the fight to keep the Arcane Golems away from the citizenry of Silvermoon during Leoren's rescue. "Ya be knowin'," Taknar started off with a cackle. "Da last time ah be 'ealin' ya, dere be bein' some massive chaos followin'. Let's be 'opin' dat it not be 'appenin' ahgain 'ere, ya?"

Looking around and nodding towards the other Legion forces through the trees Taknar added, "Den ahgain, maybe dat be bein' da ahdea. Regardless, Taknah ah da Raven Cross 'nd Scryahs be bein' 'ere ta serve."

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Draco was off his mount, the battle with the Wretched becoming easier to fight off his steed, and would look at the Troll that spoke to him. At first, his expression would be blank. Healed him? Chaos following him last time such occurred? Then he heard the next part the Raven Cross. Sir Leoren… though he was not a ‘Sir’ anymore… Evershine’s group. The time chaos followed him with them was when, well, they weren’t in existence yet. Did he mean at the Silvermoon Massacre?

“You do look familiar… was… was that you who aided me in the courtroom?” He hadn’t gotten a look after all; he had been too busy smashing golems with his shield! But, if it was… he owed this troll a large amount of respect. Something he would proudly give.

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"Jah mon," Taknar replied with a laugh. "Dat be bein' dis troll. 'Owevah, dat not be bein' important jus' now. We be needin' ta watch owa 'eads, ya?"

Taknar pointed forwards ahead of the group, where a line of golems were forming up. Someone had organized them to be a counter force, as normally they were simply loose among the trees and beaches of the island. He took out his hammer and vuuduu skull, and cast a protective bubble around Dracovista, Naheal and Agnarr.

"Da fight be bein' dere mon!" Taknar exclaimed as he rushed before the assembled golems. "Dun be lettin' dis 'ld troll be beatin' ya ta da front line!"

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“Then, sir, I owe you my thanks. You saved me during that fight,” Draco would give a rather ridged salute, “I do hope you are prepared to do such again?” He smiled. Then, watching where the troll was pointing, he’d nod. “Very well. They will serve us well in the upcoming battle, no doubt!” Gripping his sword and preparing his shield, he would charge in the direction the troll was going.

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Naheal turned to Draco from his mount. "Sir, at some point, we're going to need to assault the Sunwell, itself. And, when we do, sir..." he patted the Sunwell Blade. "I feel I should go." Mu'ru... I'll end your suffering.

He closed his eyes and bowed his head. "I'm sorry, sir. I'm sure you already knew that..."

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“We have three days. Three days until the summoning of the Erader. Three days until the invasion against our base of operations. Three days before whatever else the Burning Legion springs what they will upon us that we know not of. This is why we are preparing Now. We just received the news this morning.” Draco was frowning at this, slinging his shield now…

“But yes, we will need to send a force to end actually put a stop to their operations, do you believe yourself to be one of the few we should send in?” As the shield hit one of the golems, Draco would close his eyes to ignite it in holy power, focusing on Uther’s lessons… “If you truly believe so, then talk to the Drill Sergeant when we return,” As the shield pulsed with the Light, it would bounce off the golem to strike another, “He will be responsible for compiling a list for our strike force,” and then bounce to a third, “Now, look alive!” Grabbing his shield from the air, he would continue the charge to strike one of the golems, feeling his righteous fury pulse through him and his weapon.

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Cerryan followed behind, healing and blessing the fighters as they tore through the Wretched and golems. He spoke a soft, short prayer when the wretched fell, asking the Light to forgive them their destructive nature. One of his allies took a hard, debilitating blow to the chest, but almost as soon as it landed the wound glowed with light and closed gently. Cerryan channeled the Light with a trained, focused touch by now, his heavy ornamental armor and Naaru-blessed weapon a strong focus for his powers. Bloodshed was guaranteed to increase as the next few days progressed, but he was determined to protect anyone brave enough to fight against such blatant evil as the Legion, determined not to let their wicked grasp take the lives of those who fought in the defense of innocent people. That was his goal, and with the Light as his guide, he would not fail.

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Naheal nodded to Draco and took off on his wolf at a full gallop. He popped open his protected explosives pouch and redied a pair of Super Sapper Charges. Not caring about the Wretched or the Golems that were surrounding him, he continued to charge to the center of the group, where he was quickly becoming swarmed. He leapt from his wolf, Righteous Fury active, cleaved one Wretched in half, and concecrated the ground around him.

Within a few seconds, he turned to face the group that was before him and, with a smirk on his face, struck the charges against his explosive pouch, setting both off at once.

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Seeing the explosion where the paladin was just standing, Agnarr knew that he would either need immediate help if any of the wretched or malfunctioning arcane golems survived the blast, or he would be perfectly fine inside his little glowing bubble.

Playing it safe, the Forsaken warrior charged into the cloud of debris ready to attack anything that might have survived, determined to keep its (or their, as the case may be) attention on himself.

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The hit from one of the golems was hard, hard indeed… he should be more careful. To die before the Crusade was seen through would be a very poor idea. He’d look to see who had healed him just in time before seeing an explosion out of the corner of his eye. Great, alert the Dawnblades to give them time to prepare for the upcoming battle… Even though he clearly gave the order Not to… With a sigh, Draco watched as the two wrecked havoc on the wretched and golems… before noticing one escaping. Towards the enemy camp!

“No! you will not be permitted to give away our position!” with that he slung his shield again, making the Wretched fall… the shield should have stopped, but…due to his teachings on the Light, he was able to summon it back to him. Thank Uther. "Be sure to watch for the runners."

After this, Draco starting working on the conversions while the two blew up and cut down more of the wretched menace and shut down the Arcane Golems they needed… “I do hope they are not too damaged…” he’d sigh, seeing the blacked and dented portions of the Golem plating…

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The smoke cleared around Naheal, showing corpses around him with soot and dust covering his armor. He glanced back at Agnarr. "Back! I can handle these! Trust me, I'll be back in one piece. Just don't follow." He took off at a full run towards a larger group, hooking more explosives onto his belt and switching one of his devices. Cloaking device. Hope it works...

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Wasting no time pondering what he was told, Agnarr turned back toward the others. Taknar had run on ahead as he could hear cackling amidst the screams of falling wretched. If the cackling stopped, then Agnarr knew it would be time to worry.

He turned just in time, as he saw a couple of the wretched creatures approaching Draco from behind, the Paladin's attention on the arcane golem he was working on reactivating for the defense.

Swapping his shield for a dagger and drawing his axe, the warrior hurled the magical axe at one of the wretched. The axe embedded itself into the neck of the former elf and it toppled to the ground behind Draco. The second, alerted by its companion's fall, spun and ran toward the Forsaken warrior.

Holding his empty hand out, the axe soon magically returned to his grasp. Agnarr was quite fond of his Decapitator. He ran toward the charging wretched. As the two neared, Agnarr dropped to his knees and spun, swinging both weapons out wildly. Both found the legs of the surprised wretched and passed through. The stunned creature's torso fell to the ground, no longer having its lower legs attached. Reaching back, the warrior planted his dagger into the back of the wretched's head, ending its misery.

Climbing back to his feet, Agnarr sheathed his weapons and patted Draco on the shoulder as he ran on to see what sort of trouble the Troll had surely gotten himself into.

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