ASSAULT ON NAXXRAMAS - Part 2 - A CALL TO ARMS (RP event)

[Amato]

After the brutal fighting, the beast slunk back to it's lair that it might lick it's wounds. But even there it encountered yet more implacable foes. In it's mouth it still clutches the ragged, bloated hand taken from a previous kill. Stealthily it waits for an opening. Paws tensed, still smarting from the ichor and venom splattered into it's wounds, it prepares to lash out and deliver a bone-gouging rip to those who would do it harm. Eyes glitter yellow in the dark as it's tail lashes, ready to strike forth.

"If you don't come out from under the kitchen table right now then by the Earth Mother I'll just have to bathe you twice!" Coranda shouts, a wet rag in one hand and a half-full bucket of water sitting on the floor behind her. "You're such a calf when it comes to cleaning up! You'll fling yourself headlong into a stream, but you can smell soap from a mile off. Do you remember what that place smelled like? And no, that does not count as a trophy!"

The great and terrible beast narrows it's eyes, glaring out at the well-manicured hooves just outside it's reach. Finally giving in to the better part of valor, it slinks from the table and gives it's wife one last, pathetic mewling. Finding no pity in those eyes, it hangs it's head and stalks to the waste pit outside, discarding the Abomination's severed third hand and preparing to smell nothing but soap for the next week.

[Guest]

As Lady Shandris entered her house she thought about all that had transpired they had resqued Warlord Sreng, Faeriel, and the other missing officials.

She then smiled at the thought of all the Destruction they had caused to some of the Litch Kings forces and his Beloved Citadel and swore that one day she would ascend the frozen throne and shove her blade down Arthas' throat he would pay for what he has done to the Thalassians, The Ironsong Tribe, and all the other races of the horde.

She yawned deeply then looked down at her robes they were covered in Ichor, Slime and were riped in several places she would have to get them fixed and cleaned in the morning but for now she just needed to rest no doubt her advisers would be fussing at her in the morning.

[Valtrinity]

Valtrinity sat in front of her father and mother's tomb on the edge of the Golden Plains of Mulgore. "Father? Mother? I have returned as I promised I would." A soft wind blew as if to acknowledge the shaman's presence. Valtrinity nodded as if she knew they were listening. "We were successful. Our Warlord is safe, as well as our friends who were taken as well. The conflict was brutal, but we made the Scourge suffer for their transgressions against us." The wind blew once again, a bit harder, but still very calmly. "I know....it will only get more difficult, but we will be prepared. I must apologize, but I have to go now. I know I don't visit as often as I should, but that doesn't mean I don't think of you both. I do so every time I read our clan's tome, which I have begun to add onto, as per tradition." The shaman removes a bundle of peacebloom and lays it at the foot of the gravestone. "I love you, Father...Mother....I will return again soon." Valtrinity mounted upon her talbuk and then dashed away, the wind blowing proudly about her.



Veramorla stared at the dark haired pensive looking tauren in front of her. Their eyes meeting each other, neither straying.

"So....your dear Sreng was rescued?"

"That's what I just told you. I would've thought you would've learned that lesson."

"And what lesson is that?"

"The Tribe will do anything it takes to ensure the survival of our members."

"Is that why you stay with them? For survival?"

"I will admit...that without them I would've been dead long ago."

"I see....even weak people can join forces to overcome adversity..."

"You underestimate us. We're not as weak as you think."

"Perhaps so....not many can enter Kel'Thuzad's domain and return to tell the tale about it...so....why weren't you with them?"

"Because I have more important matters to deal with......sister."

[Dispaya]

Epilogue - Dispaya


"The Warlord is safe...time to go." Kosath gave the order.

"Blademaster...we must stay and fight!" Many of the tribe were still in the throes of battle lust and yelled out from all around him.

"No! We have taken heavy casualtes...our people are injured and our supplies are low. The Warlord is safe...we have fulfilled our mission. I will not risk losing any more of you. Time to go!" He turned to the small undead mage beside him.

"Dispaya?"

"Aye sir." The mage responded by conjuring a magical portal and one by one the members of the strike team marched through. Some limped from terrible wounds while others were carried through on the shoulders of their comrades. Sreng was safe. Faeriel had been found along with many other tribal leaders. Their job was done.

Dispaya waited until the last of them were through. Kosath gave a nod and vanished into the gateway. She turned to go last...but a shadowy figure stepped into view behind her. She sensed him and turned to face Heigan the Unclean. He clapped his hands in a slow applause.

"Well done White Lady....well done. You have not lost your touch." Dispaya's eyes narrowed at the sound of her old Scourge name. "I knew one day you would come home."

"I am no longer one of you Heigan. I am free."

"You will never be free. Do you think they will ever truly accept you for who you are White Lady?"

"I am no longer the White Lady...I am Dispaya...mage of Ironsong."

He stepped forward slowly. Dispaya's portal was still open behind her...but she knew its magic would fade soon. If it closed he would never give her a chance to throw another.

"Has your memory been so slow in returning? You no longer remember who you once were?" Heigan smiled an amused grin that made Dispaya apprehensive. He was up to something. He was trying to keep her here.

"I know I was once scourge...a servant of the one called Araj the Summoner."

"Bah...Araj...a minor player in a much larger game. True you were his servant once but not for long. You soon exceeded his abilities. Your taste for the blood of the living was once far greater than his. Your talent for magic was far greater too. Do you not remember that in time he became YOUR servant."

"What...?"

Heigan tapped his staff on the floor. >tap-tap-tap< In an instant Dispaya's mind was flooded with memory. Heigan smiled.

"So...you remember now? You were our most beloved sister. You made war on the humans...and advised our generals. You were one of our great mages when we Stormed Quel'Thalas and destroyed the holy Sunwell. You killed thousands of High Elves in that war."

Dispaya remembered.

"Do you now remember when Arthas turned the ranger? He made her one of us...a servant of the one truth in all the universe...the truth of undeath. You served her faithfully as a minion. That was why she took you with her when she betrayed us."

More memories... Dispaya's eyes glowed dimly as she remembered. "I fought to stay...but she forced me to go...she took my memory away...I remember..."

"It is never too late to return to us White Lady..."

The portal was beginning to fade and Heigan's servants were beginning to gather. Silently they crept from the shadows all around her.

"I am no longer she who you knew Heigan...no more." She turned again to flee.

"I know the one who turned you...Caroline of Gilneas. After he fled from you he came to us...he lives among us still...in the north lands. Stay and I will take you to him. You can finally have your revenge."

All at once she hesitated. Hate filled her heart and made her want to scream out in anger. She extended her scourge claws at the sound of her human name...as she remembered the man who had betrayed her and sentenced her to undeath. Dispaya whirled to face Heigan once more. Her robe and cloak slowly began to shimmer and lose color. They were beginning to turn white.

"Oh yes...you hate him....stay...stay and I will take you to him. He will feel your wrath! You see...you have not changed so much. You can never escape from what you truly are. A killer. Someday your little elf friends will discover that you helped destroy their source of power. How much will they sing your little songs then?"

She wanted to stay. She would have vengeance...but no...no...she thought of Sreng..and of her tribe. Sreng needed her. Vengeance would wait for another day. Dispaya gave Heigan one final look as she let herself fall backwards into the portal. It suddenly snapped closed behind her.

The scourge pounced...but it was too late. She was gone. Heigan and his minions stood alone now in the silent chamber of Naxxramas.

"You will return to us one day sister. I will see you again."



Epilogue - Faeriel


Eruadan worried over his friend. Faeriel had been found...but she was still not well. She was being cared for in the Chapel infirmary by the Argent nurses along with the other rescued survivors. He gathered some sweet rolls and a bit of moonberry juice as he knew that was her favorite...but when he reached her bed she was nowhere to be seen.

"Blast it!"

He set the food on the bedside table and hurried off in search of her. Once upstairs in the main chapel he thought he heard a girl's voice and slowly went towards it. There he found the elf girl curled up under a large meeting table. She was cradling a small doll in her arms.

"Faeriel...what are you doing here?"

She did not answer. Now he could hear that she was singing a song softly...an elven lullabye...one he had not heard in many years.

"Fae? Please come out."

Faeriel continued to stare ahead as she slowly hummed her song. Eruadan finally pulled away a few chairs and went under the table to gather her. He reached out to take her hand...but the girl suddenly recoiled in fear!

"No...no! Do not touch me...no...no...no...no...no...Mother? Mother!"

She called out for her mother like a small child would. Eruadan took great care with his words.

"Your mother is...not here child...now we must get you back to bed...you need rest."

"Mother?" she asked again. Of course there was only silence but Erudan tried to comfort her as best he could.

"Your mother is not here...I am sorry...."

"Mother IS here!" she snapped at him. "Mother? Mother?" She called out to the silence while still tenderly caressing the doll.

"Faeriel...please come out...it is cold here. There is a nice warm bed below...and food. I have brought moonberry juice...your favorite."

"Mother always brings me moonberry juice when I am good. She is away you know...on a mission for the order...mother is very busy...have you seen her?"

Eruadan lied...though lying displeased him. "Err...yes...yes...she will return soon...and when she does...she will not know where to find you if you are under here. We must take you back to rest."

"I do not want mother to worry." She stated matter-of-factly. "Ok...I will come...we will go see mother."

Eruadan tried to help her up but she would not let him touch her. He walked with her back to her bed. She kept the doll in her arms...Eruadan wondered where she had found such a thing.

Once Faeriel was safely tucked away in her bed Priestess MacDonnell stepped up next to him. Erudan spoke without looking at her.

"Will she be alright?"

"She has suffered a terrible shock...she must have seen something horrible in that place. Our nurses will look after her. We are experienced at treating those who have been exposed to the horrors of the scourge."

"Was her mother among the others we rescued?"

"No...no I am afraid not."

"Then...I am fairly certain I know what may have shocked her so."

[Sreng]

Sreng crouched quietly beside the smoky, resinous fire. Winter in Durotar was short, but it was still colder than what he had been accustomed to in the Islands. Outside his small hut, he could hear the waves lapping on the shore and the coastal palms swaying in a restless winter breeze.

Every joint in his body ached. Such pain was alien to him; it did not fade rapidly. It seemed that none of his wounds did, anymore. He feared that the toxins and venoms wielded by his Scourge tormentors had left him permanently altered. He bore scars now that were taking days to heal, rather than just hours. He felt very, very tired.

Sleep was not a welcome friend to Sreng. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the horrors of Naxxramas. He could feel the spidery blades of his inquisitors, smell the unwholesome reek of the deathless dead. No matter how high he banked his fire, he felt chilled, as though the lifeless frost of the Scourge had settled deep in his bones.

With a haunted glare in his eyes, Sreng rose stiffly and reached for his gear. The tribe had meticulously maintained Sreng's weapons and armor during his absence, and the sleeping raptor in the corner awoke in anticipation of the hunt. Sreng slipped on his mail, slid his blades into his belt, and slung his crossbow onto his back. Meathook chirruped in excitement, a startling and almost comically diminutive sound from so intimidating a beast. Unable to sleep, unable to heal, unable to get the rest he truly needed, Sreng stalked out into the night.

Surely, there was something out there that needed to be killed.

[Dispaya]

*THE END*

[Zuel]

/cheer

((wounderful job guys. I enjoyed reading that story very much. I hope that there are more RP stories such as these to come ))