A dwarven Hunter by the name Childeric was running through the swamps of Zangermarsh with his bear close beside him. He was in a panic, and he had ever right to be. Not more then an hour ago he had been part of a group of people. Now he was on his own. Then there were people to watch his back. But he did something he shouldn’t have. He got greedy.
Childeric had gotten with a few others who decided that they were going to find small groups, or if possible, single death knights and take them out. Over the last two days they had managed to kill 3 death knights this way. Not enough to fix the world, but it was a start. However with the last kill there was a problem deciding who was going to get to keep the death knight’s helmet. Common practice says that it is decided by drawing straws, which the group did. He had lost. But he would not except that, and took the helmet anyway.
The others of his group forced him to leave after that. At first he didn’t care, he and his shiny new helm could find a new team to fight the death knights with. Or so he thought. Less then a few minutes ago he was spotted by a female Drenei death knight. He was getting ready to attack when a second one approached along side an undead death knight. Three was more then he was willing to take on by himself. So he started to back away.
But another two Death Knights cut off his path, this one a human male and elven female. That is when the running started. Now he was being chased by all five of them.
“Sonijazen, Pixie, Take the bear.” He heard one of the death knights order.
Not even a second latter his bear was yanked back to the slaughter. He didn’t stop, he didn’t even look back. That bear had been by his side for years, but it was gone now.
Then another order came. “Lothsoth, chain.” Again as soon as the words had been spoken they were carried out. Chains of ice wrapped around his legs pinning him to the ground.
He drew his gun to try and defend himself, but did not fire. He new to fight was to die; he had to cut a deal. “Hey, I tell you what, I am a good tracker, let me hunt for your team. I see the way the wind is blowing.”
The death knights surrounded him. An elf girl in front, the human male off to his left, and a Dreanei to his right. “You would fight for the King?” The Elf asked.
“I never had a problem with you death knights before. Sure I will.”
The man who cast the chains on him, Lothsoth, Spoke. “Commander Areithis, he wears the helm that belonged to the missing scout.’
Childeric’s heart stopped as fear griped it. “This, I found it.” He tried to explain.
“What do you think Tryatian?” Areithis asked.
The soft spoken woman came up behind him and whispered into his ear. “Only through death can one be risen to serve the master.” Before Childeric could say anything her scythe cut through him serving his head. Looking down at his still open eyes she continued. “You are an enemy of the King, and were willing to be a traitor to your own people. If for some reason my Lord sees fit to add you to the ranks so be it. But I wouldn’t hold my breath.”
*****
6 elves gather in a graveyard staring at a statue in disbelief. “How.” Bkjohnhall asked.
The question was simple. The answer was unknown. They all knew what they were looking at. It was one of the angles that would bring fallen heroes back from the grave, if the fallen ones were deemed worthy. Now however it seems the angle had been turned to stone. “I know of no magic that could do this.” Pierroman said plainly.
“Nor I.” Tryat added.
The group took a few more moments in silent thought, each one realizing just what this meant. “Your spells, the ones that bring back the dead. They still work right?” Spartanman asked.
“They should.” Pierroman answered still looking at the statue.
“I haven’t use those spells in a while myself. Not since before this.” Tryat pointed at the statue. “All of this.” He added waving his hand in the direction of the distant city of Darnassas.
“I hate to say it but, you more then likely will get a chance to test it soon. There are DKs all over the place. Sooner or latter we will run into them.” Xeboblade told him.
Oiche decided to try and change the mood of the group. “Ok we know what happened, and we can guess as to why. How do we fix it?”
Everyone looked at Tryat and Pierroman. Who then let out some long sighs as they looked at each other. “Well we need help.” Pierroman said plainly. “This is well beyond both of us.”
“We could go to the grove of the ancients and talk to the big tree.” Spartanman suggested.
“Not a bad idea, I can also go to a secret meeting place of druids and see if anyone there can help.” Tryat added.
“Secret Druid meeting place? Why haven’t you told me about this before?” Pierroman asked jokingly.
“Well it is a secret.” Tryat joked back. “I have a spell that can take me there. But I can not bring anyone with me this way. I will go and see if anyone there can help. Then journey to the grove afterwards.”
All of them nodded, and Oiche said, “Ok we have a plan, it looks like it is up to the elves to save the world.”
Bkjohnhall laughed. “Isn’t it always?”
*****
Ozztrois ran his hand over the outer layer of the bubble that encased the town. It was cold to the touch, and hard. Not unlike stone. “Sutnack do you have a mining pick on you?”
“Always.” The dwarf replied.
“See if you can break a peace of this off.” He asked while steeping back.
Sutnack took out his pick and got his stance. And then with all of the considerable strength he possessed he brought the tool down on the bubble. And to his satisfaction he broke a peace off. A very small peace, but it was still something. “There you go.”
Ozztrois picked it up. It was about the size of a snowflake, and just like a snow flake it was starting to dissolve. “Interesting.” He said to no one in particular.
Zephanea got a closer look at where Sutnack struck. “There is still a dent, it hasn’t filled back in.”
“Good then we can tunnel in and get the people out that way.” Funinthesun said exactly.
“Yea, if we had a few years.” Gashe responded. “I have spared with Sutnack, I know the power he puts into his swings. If we are going in we need something better then a pick.”
Ozztrois had a thought. “Ok something makes it so this stuff.” He points at the bubble. “is ok there, but not here. What we need to do is figure out what ever that is, and get rid of it.”
“Makes since, but how?” Zephanea asked.
Ozztrois sat on the ground and scratched his head. “Not sure.” He opened up his backpack and pulled out a rather large piece of cloth. “I am going to try and get a better view of things.” He unrolled the cloth and steeped onto it. Then with out a word it flew into the air.
In the air he was able to see much farther then before. Not that there was all that much to see. He went as high as he could, to where the air started getting thin. From that high vantage point he was able to see the movements of an army. Knowing that weather it be friend or foe he was better knowing what was going on, he stared to approach.
The little gnome stayed high, and constantly looked around him for other flying people. He spotted some, but they were staying much lower then he was. He got as close as he dared, just close enough to see what side the army was on. But seeing the banner they had just led to more questions. It was the banner of the lich king.
He thought back to the death knights on the boat and things started falling into place. Picking up speed he tried to see where the army was headed. He pulled out a map checking his heading and realized the grim truth. The death knights of the lich king were marching on Dalaran. He kept going, hoping some how he could warn those in the city of what was coming, and wishing he had the time to tell his friends back on the ground what he had learned.
After a few miles the cities edge started coming into view. And he realized there was no need for a warning. The city was already under attack. Thousands upon thousands of troops surrounded the city. And a constant exchange of firepower seamed to lash between the two forces. Ozztrois wanted to charge in and help, but he knew better. Even if he made it in, there was little he could do. His firepower alone was not enough. Sadly he made the choice to return to his friends and tell them what he had learned.
*****
If Tryat had time to think he would have wished he had never thought of coming to Moonglave. It seems that the secret meeting place of the druids was not all that secret. Seconds after he popped in 3 death knights attacked him. And now he was just scrambling to get away.
He was in the form of a cheetah running as fast as he could when the dark shadow yanked him back. Without thinking he changed forms in the air, to that of a Dire Bear. The death knight wasn’t ready for that. Tryat landed on the mans chest flattening him. Then Tryat started running for the water.
A second death knight blocked his path. Tryat used his mass to plow right over him. But took a bad hit to the shoulder doing so. Right before hitting the water he changed back into himself and cast a healing spell as he jumped through the air.
He landed into the water and started swimming down. Hearing the splash of another death knight Tryat turned into a seal and tried to swim faster. But the Death knights were ready for that. One yanked him back to the edge of the water with his shadowy grip and another yanked him a dozen yards onto land with his.
Tryat wasn’t bothering to think, just reacting to what was happening. He changes into his other cat form and did a burst of speed past the latest knight. Once again he took a wound for his trouble. This time he managed to get some distance though.
He knew this land well, and finaly had a moment to come up with a plan. Knowing that there was only one way to leave by ground, he also knew that it would be well guarded. So he ran instead to a cliff. As he approached he heard the clatter of hoofs behind him and knew the enemy was closing in. With one last burst of energy he hurled himself over the cliff to what seamed like certain death. However Tryat wasn’t ready to die just yet. He had been saving something for a time like this. He turned back into himself and scrambled to retrieve it from his pack.
With no time to spare he drank deeply from a feasible mug he had kept from the new year celebration and slowed his falling. As he slowed to an almost drifting speed an armored man and his horse shot past him on there way to the ground. “Happy landings.” Tryat muttered.
