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The Men in the Mist

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Fïksal journeyed through the misty broken remains of the once great wall that secluded Gilneas from the world. The Forsaken had relinquished their endless assault for at least this moment, giving him time to see the shattered remains of the Greymane Wall, and what lied inside. The mist lay heavy here, blocking light and visibility that stretched to any reasonable distance. Fïksal looked up into the mist, where the stars lay twinkling and showing their calm resilience and steadfastness, always there. He looked down from the stars, and caught the faintest hint of a shadow in the distance. It was odd...none could be seen so far, yet the figure stood there..a black outline,still as stone. Then, a flicker and it was gone. Fïksal stared at the space it had been at for a moment, dismissing it from his mind. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a small timepiece of Gnomish make. He wiped the mist and condensation from it's glass cover with the slight bit of cloth on his gauntlet, looking at the time. It was late...he needed to report back to Theramore soon. He closed it with a small click as the latch snapped into place, tucking it back into his pocket. He turned from the Wall, moving out towards the mist's edge. Then the figure, immediately in front of him for a moment, then gone. He placed a hand on one of the hilts of his runeblades, eyes scanning the area around him with the calm professional gaze of one who had seen combat and faced death and come out fighting still, the gaze of a soldier. The faintest shadow at the corner of his eye, then gone once more. Then a chant, resonating through the mist when all else was muffled and drowned out.

The Undead come

To breach our Wall

But before, the mage

That cursed us all

Then the mage

Who made us call

Again, the mage

Who shattered us all

Now, the man

Who watches our Wall

And the ones, who wish

To kill us all.

The chant picked up as others joined it, five figures appearing in the mist. Fïksal clenched his fist tighter, the bands of leather on the runeblades hilt feeling familiar and ready in his hand.He drew the blade slowly, only revealing a few inches of the dark steel emblazoned with icy runes.The sound of steel sliding on leather drove them into action, five figures charging from the mist. One roared out in an animal's howling call, "The smell of undeath shall be driven from this land!" Fïksal wrinkled his nose slightly at the comment, drawing the runeblade. He slid one foot slightly sideways, lowering the sword so it could act as needed. A figure, leaping from the mist towards him, was met by an outstretched hand delivering an icy touch that drove the wolf-man to the ground, another leaping figure met by a coil of death.The three remaining vanished from the mist, reappearing in front of him almost fifty feet away. One stood at the forefront of his fellows, the others at either side. They stepped in unison towards him, one snarling his hatred. They finally came into view, gray fur and the eyes of a wolf that held the intelligence of a humanoid creature. They stood there for several moments, the leader examining the man in black plate armor with a sliver of silver protruding from a small leather holder, two sheaths on his back forming an X, one retaining a runeblade, one devoid. And most of all he stared into the icy blue eye that cast a slight illumination in the dark hood that cast shadows over the face, revealing the slightest outline of a mouth.The leader snarled to the others guarding him, "This one smells of undeath..yet he is not. He is not like the others...the ones that come to kill us all." Fïksal replied with a slight nod, eyes flicking to the two stretched on the ground clutching where the runic powers had hit them. He bowed his head slightly, apologetically. The leader nodded slightly, then turned to the others. They moved, and helped the two on the ground up and into the mist. The leader of them stood there, facing Fïksal and not speaking. Then the leader vanished away into the mist, leaving Fïksal wondering of the Men in the Mist, and the ones who came to kill them all.

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