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Four Girls and a Lich King (and Noodle's Hair)
The sound of her spells ringing in her ears was just enough to drown out Noodlemortis's shrill screams about his hair. Tha'nuist inhaled deeply, trying to tune out the battle around her in order to put her full concentration on her job. So far her efforts had been in vain.

A geist dropped down from the ceiling, targeting a shaking tauren warrior frozen with fear in her first real battle. A brief smirk crossed the elf's face as she shielded the warrior, amused that the tauren had succeeded enough in the tournament to be given the job of following up the Champion push. A hunter in the back took the opportunity and quickly took the geist down.

The forces began to push ahead, and Tha'nuist nodded once at the still trembling warrior before she turned to follow the charge.

Tha'nuist stayed with the group, wholly unsure of the plan and unfazed by the fact that she had no idea. The priest always had trouble concentrating on briefings.

The explanations were always long-winded and boring, especially if Donalzon was charged with the duty. Her glowing green eyes had glazed over as they had stood at the door, the Paladin droning on and on about every little detail.

She hadn't failed with her philosophy of "Heal like mad and don't stand in bad things". Sure, she had a few close calls here and there, but who was keeping track? The elf bit her lip as she worried about Melikar. He'd be the one keeping count.

The forces in the citadel put her philosophy to the test. Keeping her robes held off the floor with one hand, she madly dashed around avoiding the blue flames. Sweat collected on her body, and during the brief moments when she was able to stand still she shivered as the chill of the throne touched her sharply.

Time felt as if it was passing faster than normal as the forces made their way to the Lich King. Unable to catch her breath, Tha'nuist stayed with the Champions as they hit the final corridor, ready for what was just beyond.
Skilled hands swiftly tightened the string on a large bow. Once she made sure it was secure Attaroa was ready once more for the battle. She had cursed under her breath when the bow's first string had snapped after only firing a few shots. The fault was solely in the hands of the argent forces deciding that the hunters and rangers in that area should be given bows to use instead of using their personal ones.

As she stood to start firing once more the troll noticed a geist drop down onto a priest's shield. Quickly drawing back the string she took aim. A loud twang rang in her ears as she watched the creature drop dead, her arrow sticking out of its chest.

Just then the Champion forces began to push forward and Attaroa's sniper group fell in line ready to protect their rear. The hunter heard a loud squawk, a yell, and a growl behind her. A large white wolf and an even larger purple plainstrider had escaped from the area the druids had set up for all the pets.

She licked a tusk and smiled, petting both when they reached her.

"Armunai and Kevin fight with me," she stated calmly to the commanding officer approaching with his mouth hanging open.

Another commotion started behind the lines. This time paladins sporting black tabards with white crosses were pushing their way through, shoving aside anyone trying to stop them. As they reached Attaroa's squad the offenders took the chance to jeer and push any horde members. One human woman with dark skin and jet black hair wound in a tight bun stepped on Kevin's foot with her plate boot. The plainstrider opened her beak and gave a rather loud protest.

Attaroa snarled in anger and gave the woman a hard push. The next few moments blurred before she found herself sitting on the ground, her face stinging and bleeding heavily from a fresh slice across the bridge of her nose. The paladin laughed and spit on the hunter before walking away.

In the distance there was an earth shaking bellow, causing the group of paladins to race off in its direction. Cries of "Caelestis Gloriam" rang through the hall as they headed into the citadel.

Attaroa's world was red. She angrily grabbed her bow and took aim at the woman. As the troll readied her fire, she froze, then closed her eyes and slowly lowered the weapon.
"So the earth has been rather vocal?" The whithered shaman inquired. Across from him a female orc fidgeted uncomfortably as she nodded.

"The earth spirit said a new enemy is approaching and will make its signs more obvious rather soon. Only a few shamans and druids have felt it. I'm guess it's due to the happenings in Northrend. What could it be? Old one... can we stop it?"

The elderly or held up his hand to pause the female and inhaled deeply before giving his answer.

As I saw many years ago, the darkness will do as it pleases and will leave us to clean up. I have never been to the new world, nor do I want to go. But..." He sighed deeply again. "I will share what knowledge I do have so you can go and try to ease the world."

The male orc's deep brown eyes, just starting to become cloudy, studied the young green skin before him. Smiling gently with his nearly toothless grin, he gently changed the subject and motioned to his child apprentice, Uk'krik to refill the cups in front of them.

"One of the few born before liberation of the orcs and the first of your age mates to hear the call of the spirits. Now, an agent of Ironsong. Quite an impressive list of accomplishments. Yet here you are in Nagrand instead of fighting the Lich King."

Oga sighs slightly and turned her head to glance outside of the dwelling into the verdant fields. A large tawny cat with two strange horns playfully tacked an equally large timber wolf. Only a few dozen yards away a rather oblivious kodo was making quick work of a patch of wild flowers.

"It was not what I was called to do," She cleared her throat and pointed at the horned cat. "Ura is here as well, and she was one of the first to feel it, but..."

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