The Final Patrol ((Closed RP))

World’s End Tavern: Role-play and Fan Fiction
Prev 1 3 4 5 19 Next
Meanwhile in Hyjal.....

Night was still gripping the land, although from the activity in the small camp it seemed almost like the middle of the day. Night elves, and some tauren were preparing for the coming fighting whilst others slept peacefully under the stars.

This quiet haven of tranquillity high on the mountain and under the immense leaves of Nordrassil was no indication of the general state of the area. It was the final line of defence for the great tree and the innocent looking water it guarded.

In one of the tents, Waraila rested from the previous week of fighting. Unlike when she was with the patrol, the Cenarian Circle rotated their troops on a regular basis to keep them fresh, which allowed them to hound the twilight cultists all the way back from Nordrassil itself.

She hadn't been here for that initial panic, when the cultists were at the final line of defence. That was when she had been recalled to Hyjal, forcing her to leave Vimmi's patrol not long after they had succeeded in keeping the world pillar being destroyed a second time.

The druidess sat meditating almost, as she thought back to the events at the world pillar in deepholme, a deep sense of loss filled her as she remembered those who hadn't made it, and those she had failed to save.

Two of those cut deeply, one was the wyvern Verra, who had died before that final battle. A veteran of the first patrol, and one she had previously saved from death. It cut deep that she had been unable to save the beast a second time. Although she hoped the great creature had been reunited with Dren'gork's spirit and that they were flying together in the spirit realm once more.

The other, technically, wasn't exactly a loss as such.. but she recalled how she had failed the warrior Lowmaine, who had fallen under the onslaught of cultists, in fact Waraila knew she herself had been lucky to survive that brutal attack. Lowmaine though was the one who had prevented that flank from being overrun, and as a result prevented the druidess from being killed, before she had fallen. In her culture it was an honourable death, and one that was inspiring.. but then SHE came..

Waraila felt that the human had deserved her final rest, and to join her ancestors with honour, but SHE had prevented that. Virella had done something, she didn't know what or how, but the end result was that Lowmaine still walked as one of the undead. Just the thought of it terrified the druidess to her very soul, to be wrenched from joining her ancestors or with the dream and forced into an unnatural semblance of life.. And Lowmaine, a warrior who she respected was now one of them.

She opened her eyes abruptly, shaking away the deep unease that had filled her meditation and noticed that the moon was still rising, her own return to the front lines was a few hours away but she didn't want to spend more time contemplating her failures.

Almost absently Waraila wondered what Vimmi was doing now, last she knew was that Spannershield had intended to take the fight to the cultists base in the Twilight Highlands. With one hand absently rubbing at where the metal chain she had once worn had been, she recalled the final conversation she had, not long after the urgent message had found her about the assault on Nordrassil.

"I must go ..... If Nordrassil is taken, then we'll get a second sundering .... I leave these with you as a promise to return... " Those were her final words to Vimmi, and without much ceremony, she had vanished into the pre dawn gloom of that morning, many weeks prior to begin the journey to Hyjal.

Now she was here, the fighting had been intense, but they had managed to push the cultists from the very brink of their victory all the way back to where the firelands were encroaching at the base of the mountain. She smiled faintly, if all went well then it could be that she would be heading out to rejoin Vimmi sooner than she expected.

".....Jarod ."

"Cultists pushing back..... "

"Did you hear?...."

Waraila glanced towards the half open flap of her tent as conversations, usually lowkey and respectful of those that rested at night, sounded with enthusiasm, hope and something else. Puzzled, the druidess rose from the floor to investigate.

"Hey have you heard? Jarod's brought more troops with him... and Cenarius too!" another druid waved Waraila over. She was stunned, Cenarius? She recalled that during the misunderstanding many years before, that the orcs had slain Cenarius but she had not expected the ancient to return so suddenly.

Grinning she turned to the night elven druid "That is the best news I've heard in a long time" she replied, almost laughing as the sense of hope and relief swept through the encampment. It seemed the tide was fully turning against the cultists...
Coron and Perfection

"Druid cat, right...harmless" Perfection said, lowering her hands, but not deactivating the claws. Coron raised his scythe away from the cat and made a small grunt in annoyance "Well that was a waste of time...what now?" he said, practically ignoring the Druid cat's words. "I'm going to do a sweep over the rubble one last time and see if there are any members of the Patrol still left, I'll meet you back here as soon as I am able, yea?"

"Fair enough" Core nodded, turning to be on his way, Perfection turning the oppisite way and leaving the cat to do what ever the hell it did, the two of them seem to have lost interest knowing that it was nothing but a Druid, besides, if it was even a threat, the others would kill it easily enough, especially after everything the Boren Patrol have previously been through.

Coron walked around a pile of ruble, scythe resting upon his shoulder ans he patroled the area for any more signs of life. Finding no threats as such, he made his way back to the group only to fine a Sin'dorei man approaching them. Unsure of exactly what his intentions were, he silently approached from behind. Judging from his words and attire, he seemed like a Priest, usually pretty easy to fight if one were to mean harm. However, this one looked rather wimpy, Lia could probably flick him hard enough in the head and send him off running. Smirking under his mask, he appraoched.

"If you are a healer, fantastic, start going around and healing those who need it. Trust me, a lot of us do" he would say, intending to scare the Priest witless. Even if he didn't succeed in that, he would still continue to walk on, moving to Lia's side. The Warrioress glanced at the Druid with a small twinkle in her eye before turning her attention back to the rider, Core turning to keep an eye on the Sin'dorei man to make sure he was who he said he was.

Perfection on the other hand was checking bodies and rubble piles for any signs of life, and wasn't having much luck in doing it. As she walked, she caught sight of a worgen running through the rubble with what seemed to be a gnome on his back. "What the..." she squinted, focusing on the gnome...he looked pretty familiar "Tuurrle?" she said, her jaw almost dropping.

She didn't see him at the group with the rest, almost thought he would be dead, but either way, she quickly sprinted off to follow the worgen, quick at his heels.
"Aww, now that's no fun, you guys could at least have told me what happened here, and here I thought we were, "friends." Sammuroth smirked as the two just walked off completely ignoring him, so they seem to be a little overconfident in their abilities, neither taking me prisoner, nor killing me, well at least now I can be sure, they aren't cultists. Though the druid had to admit, they had the advantage in numbers, but any good rogue would know, numbers meant absolutely zero to an unseen enemy. The druid could have done any number of things to sabotage this group, most obviously attacking the leader, and based on the wounds everyone had, he doubted anyone could have stopped him. The druid shrugged, "Well I guess the cat's out of the bag as they say, no need to stay hidden anymore," coming out of the shadows the druid made his way over to the gnomish commander of the group, who was presently talking to the commander of the Alliance troop that had arrived.

"Excuse me, forgive me for interrupting, but if you are about to explain, what in the fel happened here, I would be very interested to hear it," noticing the collapsed Alliance soldier the cat asked, "what happened to him?"
An evil his resounded from the woman flesh as Valdemir’s white hot blade pressed down open her open leg wound. Water and bodily fluids evaporated on contacts as the what remained of her flesh turned into an ugly burn mark on her upper thigh. The smell was the worst part, for Valdemir, The elder mage did his best to keep his face impassive as the smell of burning flesh assaulted his nostrils.

To the warrior’s credit, the only response to the burning blade searing her flesh was a low moan and a glare that could melt steel. She was handling the situation much better then he would have, Taking out a roll of bandages, Valdemir deftly wrapped the woman’s leg wound, creating a protective barrier to seal the area off from infection. As he completed his work, his patient cracked the whip again snapping out, “Get the rest out of me!”

Valdemir knew better to respond tersely to the warrior, he had been in her position many times in his life and knew what he must have been facing. His only response was a low grunt as he rolled the woman onto her stomach. Running his weather beaten hands along the warriors armor, Valdemir counted some 4 to 5 pieces of shrapnel that had pierced her elementium armor. In a low voice Valdemir said to the woman, “You seem to be in luck my lady, these are but cuts and bruises compared to your leg wound.” With speed and efficiency, Valdemir pried out the remaining shrapnel from the warriors’ back filing each hole with a small wad of cloth.

His work done, Valdemir stood and dusted off some of the grime and dirt from his filthy robes. “Seems like im going to need a haberdasher soon wont I?” he old man spoke softly to himself. Extending his arm to the warrior he offered her his arm while saying “If you can stand, you should, it looks like were preparing to move out. Since we been as close as two people can get on the battle field, I think we should know each other’s names. The names valdemir.”
Cenerae pointed a finger at the camp the rogue had been eyeing, in response to his words. "Take a closer look. The Alliance felt some hidden wisdom in setting up camp right on the doorsteps of the cultists. You were eyeing up an Alliance officer. Provoking them at this point in time would be unwise."

It was then that she was distracted by the appearance of a hooded figure, dismounting and dismissing a felsteed. What, exactly, was a warlock doing here? As the figure spoke, she shook her head in slight disbelief. The Orcs actually sent a warlock out here? To scout? When there was a warlock there was almost always some grumbling complaining demon at their side. But where...oh.

The succubus' wailing made the ranger wince, casting a suddenly nervous look over the camps. Luckily nobody had heard the racket. Yet. Were she still alive, she might have found the situation amusing, but instead she jabbed a finger at the demon. "Either shut her up or send her away, you fool!", she hissed out in exasperation "There's three camps full of armed people that would dearly love to dismember everyone present."
"What did she just say ? Shut me up?!"

Kortanus rasped a sigh as he glanced back over his shoulder at Marilyna. She had already released him from her embrace and was moving around to face the dark ranger. Her hand drifted down towards her waist plucking the small latch that held her whip in place. "You listen here, dark ranger, I know what you're up to. Trying to get rid of me so you can have all the boys to yourself, eh? Well, it doesn't work that way. This one is mine!" As she hissed at Cenerae, she loosed her whip letting it fall to the ground in a coil at her feet.

At any other time, any other place, if the circumstances were different, Kortanus might've been amused and let this go through. However, the proximity of the Alliance and Twilight camps to their location was a key factor in his thought process and such things would just have to wait until they weren't in such a situation.

"Marilyna, be still. Come back over here." He whispered, lifting an arm to crook a bony digit at her. Almost in an instant she was sneering at Cenerae but re-latching her weapon and skipping over to Kortanus' side happily.

"I knew you'd chose me over her"

"I didn't..nevermind" Best not to let her get started. He turned his attention back to Cenerae and the other undead. "So, the Alliance built a camp right next to a Twilight camp..interesting." He spoke as he weaved bony digits through the air, a collection of fel energy seeping from his staff towards his hand in a stream. The whirling motion of his fingers soon had the energy swirling about, following the motion. As it spun, it began to fill, solidify, forming into a small circular object that resembled a tiny green eyeball.

A single flick of his wrist and the ball went flying off in the direction of the camps. Might as well make himself useful in some aspect.
Lynara grabbed her bow in one hand and the human named Valdemir's hand with her other. She used his help to lift herself to her feet. Some people might think it was foolish of her to use a bow with no quiver for her arrows, but little did they know that her bow created its own arrows, as it was no ordinary bow.

"My name is Lynara." She replied, wincing slightly as she put weight on her injured leg. "Valdemir... thank you." She added before. Walking with a slight limp towards Vimmi. She had taken into account the alliance soldiers, but not the druid. "Who are you druid?" she asked rather aggressively, a bit more than she intended, but her leg still burned her and she felt the urge to harm something to relieve her own tension. She gripped her bow tightly, the bladed crescent moons at either end were ready form close combat and the very wood of the bow had a feint glow to it. Her other hand grasped the string of the bow as an arrow materialized out of moonlight.

She did not raise her weapon, yet. She was testing this druid to see if he was friend of a spy. They had enough problems as it were without some cat druid walking up to their commander with no respect and just demanding to know everything.

"You sneak in, then address our commander in such a tone? Have you no respect?" She made a quick look around to see which of the patrol still was injured. She did not move visibly, but from what she had seen, most if not all the patrol was still alive.
Sammuroth tensed up when the woman addressed him, it was one thing for him to talk to a woman who hadn't really taken notice of him, it was quite another for him to talk to one looking right at him. The druid knew if his stuttering problem kicked in this woman in particular would be liable to gut him then, and there, he took a deep breath, and turned to the woman a bored expression on his face. "Forgive me, I am quite the shrewd man, I had no idea if your group was friend or foe, just as you don't know if I am friend or foe. So being cautious I decided to observe you for awhile, it wasn't until your allies found me that I decided you were at least not cultists, and the fact that you didn't just kill me outright reinforces that deduction. If you are looking for an apology for being cautious you won't get one, as for how I addressed your, "commander," it is hard to show respect to someone you know nothing about. Respect is earned m'lady, and no matter what your commander has done to earn your respect it bears no value to earning mine, now I would appreciate it if you didn't look at me with that scary face, I am not going to hurt anyone." The cat was starting to sweat, luckily his fur made it not very noticeable, it was difficult for him to maintain that attitude while speaking with the woman.

If one looked closely enough they could probably see the embarassment showing in his eyes.
The way things looked to Syd, there were a lot of injured egos as well as physical injuries. Apparantly things had not gone according to plan, and the tension in the air was heavy. He cleared his throat and bowed to Coren. "I will do my best, I believe a Lightwell will suffice for the walking injured. The Light's energy flows as it will. All who can walk can approach and use it." he immediately called on the Light. A glowing font of Holy Light energy appeared near the Commander.

He turned around and bowed to Vimmi, his courteous manner and respect plain. "I offer my services without prejudice. I am Sydric Dawnstrike, please call me Syd. Who is the most in need of healing? The most grievious of injuries should be dealt with first. I see a few of you have used what first aid you know which is good." his manner calm. He called a healing spell, and directed it at Vimmi to ease her pain and stop the bleeding.

He noted the approach of the Night elf and her obvious injuries. He cast a healing spell on her to encourage the cuts and bruises to seal up and easing the pain. The mage following her was aslo in need of healing and he cast a quick energising heal and pain relief on him as well.

Syd noted the druid in cat form, curious as to why it approached in such a stealthy manner. He was suspicious of it's motives, but did not voice his concern. He was a stranger here and had no say in the security of the camp. He was glad the Alliance members had not killed him on sight, as a Sindorei would normally be an enemy they would dispatch without a second thought.

He busied himself walking around and tending any who were close with a variety of soothing and potent healing spells. The Lightwell continued to function for about an hour as more wandered into the camp. He was businesslike and efficient, not wasting any mana on those who did not need help.

The death knights he knew not to touch, they had their own way of healing and usually did not appreciate his help at any rate. When he had made his way around the obviously injured he went back to stand close to Vimmi and waited for her to acknowledge him. She was a busy Commander and he knew not to interrupt her.

The worgen running by them with a gnome on his back made Syd jump in surprise. When the poor gnome was deposited on the ground, Syd ran over immediately and began casting his largest heals. He could tell the gnome was close to letting his spirit drift away. Calling on the Light in steady and strong fashion, Syd channeled the healing energy into the unconcious figure. He knelt by the side of the warrior and was amazed he still breathed. Carefully he checked for broken bones and internal injuries. "Don't give up, I will not let you leave this world just yet. There are those who are counting on you." he used almost all of his healing energy on the gnome warrior. Fighting off the infection and easing pain and blood loss.

Somehow Syd could tell this gnome was an important part of this group. Just a gut hunch that he was somehow connected to the Commander in some way. Though he had no way to tell if it was a relative or friend, or possibly more.
Deepholm: The Past...

It was well within the earth, and several weeks earlier in which the disillusioned Commander Vimmi Spannershield and her unofficial ghostly adviser Virella had stood in the rocky fields of Deepholm and talked. They stood over now-clean fields of carnage, tiles and stone upon which thousands of more-or-less innocent lives were reaped from their bodies. These bodies had been cleaned up, burnt and buried, however still left a sickening black stench on the air. But they were gone, and the Borean Patrol now strolled the hallow temple waiting for their next objective.

“Spannershield, do you know why I endure your little patrol?” the frosty chill of The Bone Witch broke through the silence of Spannershield's self-contemplation, causing the woman to grimace. The deep canals of age and experience creased and folded with her expression. She was a woman much older than she should be.

“I do not,” she responded after a moment's hesitation, “Perhaps somewhere within your shell you care about Azeroth and wish to see it endure. I sense a darker, ulterior motive but your usefulness outweighs your mystery, and your power overshadows my uncertainty. You are worth the risk. But no, I have never truly known why you fight alongside us when so much hate burns through your veins.”

Virella sighed at the response, a rattle that shivered through her bones following the lines that once her flesh, blood and nerves might have flowed through. It was difficult to tell emotion on a blank skull, but there was something about the depth of Virella's eyes that betrayed emotion, currently revealing a rare sense of sincerity and the usual dose of intelligent contemplation. The haze of repulsive hatred that usually dominated her features seemed distant for the time being, perhaps the battle had quelled her temporarily of her anger.

“Hatred does not burn,” Virella spoke, staring off from Spannershield as if drawing from great truth within herself. “Hatred is cold, and chilling. Anger is hot, and flaming. Anger encourages one to rebel, to fight for change, to resist. Anger is as constructive as unity and eagerness, whereas hate is a dangerous emotion. Yet hatred is not inherently negative, hatred is just misunderstood by most simpletons. To hate is to despise, to hold something or someone in such personal consideration that their mere existence shifts you on an emotionally profound level, yet this shift is not necessarily negative or at least does not have to remain negative. Most humanoids only understand the most basic feelings of hate, and this restricts their understanding.”

Virella paused to let her philosophical ramblings sink in before continuing, “Azeroth's basic understanding of hate leads it to war, which is interesting. War is remarkable and curious, and while it gets bland and boring on occasion, I can suffer its drawbacks for pure physical entertainment. Yet, the Twilight Cult threatens all life on Azeroth, all existence.”

“Yet,” Vimmi interrupted, now having fully engaged in conversation with the Bone Witch, “You kill indiscriminately. Life means nothing to you.”

“Wrong,” the Forsaken argued, “Life means, everything, to me. It is the insignificant morons who traipse around in their flesh and waste the many complex facets of the world, who mean nothing to me.” Virella paused for a long moment, as she found the original point she was going to make. “I find Azeroth interesting, beautiful, intelligent, I find much to learn from even the tiniest part of it. There is infinite to learn from the smallest flower to the most complex humanoid. Yet, what world will be left to study if we allow the Twilight Cult to destroy it?”

Vimmi nodded slowly, “We fight for similar purposes, even if with different incentives,” she spoke as she studied the necromancer with a different glint in her eye.

“Yes, however,” Virella continued, “Why would I fight for a disorganised collection of races, insufficiently geared, prepared, trained or positioned to fulfill my goal?” she asked rhetorically, “Why would I waste my own limitless potential with you simpletons?”

((1/2))
Vimmi's own curiosity prevented her from slappin'-a-bi*ch, and using her great big metal arm to show Virella just how insufficiently trained she was. Instead she simply waited in the silence for the undead woman to continue her story at her leisure. Vimmi had learned to tolerate the personality of the corpse, she was an unmatched weapon for the Patrol, and her power had saved all their lives more than once. Yet, on the other hand, she was also almost the entire reason why the morality of their group was under question. Regardless, tolerance was something she preached, so it would be something she practiced, for her whole patrol.

“The Borean Patrol is not bound by law, it is not bound by war, and it does not have to be bound by restraint or morality either. With the right head at the forefront of this war machine you are building, you have limitless potential too.” Her comment was met with an angry stare, and she immediately clarified, “You -are- the right head Spannershield, but you still toe the line between giving it your all, and holding back.”

“We've given everything,” the Gnome growled, holding her hands to show the stains of death beneath their feet, “We've, sacrificed, everything. I place the lives of good men and women at risk daily for the good of Azeroth. We are ready to die if we must.”

“I see the restraint in your eyes and in your actions Spannershield,” Virella argued, “You are too attached to the lives of your men and women. Your sentimentalism will destroy your potential.”

“Do you propose I throw lives into the fire as freely as twigs, like your undead generals do?” Vimmi defended, appalled at the suggestion.

“No. I propose a balance. Fight and command with intelligence, with passion and heart and a sound mind. Yet, accept one ultimate truth. Your men and women have chosen their path, they will fight and die for you. They, are already dead. We are already dead.” She paused for effect, “You are dead, I am dead. We, are the dead. As soon as you accept, that every soldier in your command has already died, you will be free to command them beyond their potential.”

The Present...

Vimmi Spannershield turned her head up to Adam Orris. She nodded at his use of the shield despite her condition, it was this that reminded her she needed to find her shield and helmet before they left, she was dangerously under-protected. She was attempting to answer him as several interruptions continued to nag at her. It was chaos, amongst the death and dying and the new arrivals it was difficult to get her bearings. They needed some organisation, and with a hastily offered, “One moment,” she turned to face the patrol.

“I want the critically wounded up against the debris there, crowd around the lightwell. Those who can walk, help move those who can't. I want those who are especially able on me now. Coron, survey the wreck for more survivors if you will, your mobility will help. I want everyone I don't know in front of me right now, if you skulk around in the shadows we will not hesitate to attack you.” Her words rung throughout the area like hammer-falls on a drum, each syllable laced with aggression, determination and yet weariness.

“I want to get moving before dark,” she added, looking warily up at the sky. The sunset was slowly bleeding across the blue canvas of the sky, and with it brought tidings of battle to come. This was not the conclusion of the Patrols' journey, this was just another chapter. This chapter begun on a rolling green hill, sliced open by the falling zeppelin bleeding fire and fury through the cracks. The Twilight Highlands burned and scarred beneath conflict, but the Borean Patrol were to march north, and finish it.

The Commander turned back to Adam Orris, too focused on the situation she had thankfully not noticed the horribly damaged body of Turle being brought to the lightwell, “First of all, this is not our ship,” she scowled bitterly. “We, were in retreat from a skirmish with the Twilight Cult that went pear-shaped, this bastard fell on us.” She shook her head at the convenience of it all. She also shook her head at how remarkable it was, that so many of the newcomers also did not know who they were, their infamy or their success.

“We are the Borean Patrol,” she spoke, “We've already had a few Alliance squads dispatched to 'bring us to justice,' so to speak. We do what has to be done, and this is merely a setback that will not delay us for long.” She motioned to her group, “We appreciate your efforts of healing, and if you wish to follow us to Grim Batol instead of join the blood-frenzy of war, good on you. It is your decision. We are heading to take down the Cultist forces at Grim Batol, and give aid to those still fighting for the right thing.”

((2/2))
A multitude of expressions flickered over the ranger's face at Marilnya'a little act. Surprise, swiftly followed by incredulity, just as quickly replaced by scorn and revulsion. She'd heard that some of the demons could be...clingy...but even the decadent warlocks of Silvermoon hadn't managed to conjure one quite so...possessive. Stifling the irrational urge to smack the demoness in the face, she instead waited as the warlock summoned the thing back to his side and conjured a floating eyeball.

She eyed the demonic tool with mild annoyance, briefly smoothed away into a look of professional politeness. If the warlock wanted to double check the numbers she'd already counted...well, that was his perogative. Just as long as Miss Clingy kept her mouth shut. They'd have to move soon regardless, before the sun rose fully and the patrols started moving out. This boulder was getting more and more precarious a hidey hole by the minute.
Adrian stood idly by in the camp. The Alliance element offered their aid to the wounded, which made him feel a little easier. His arm relaxed from over his revolver. A Light Well was produced, and he hobbled over to it. When he reached it, he bent over and removed the bandage from around his leg, and the adhesive strips pulling his flesh together. He put his hand in the well and put it on the wound, pressing a finger inside - painfully - to ensure that it healed thoroughly. He grimaced in pain and squeezed his eyes, looking down and there was just a newly acquired scar, surrounded by dried blood.

He stood up straight, rotating and moving his leg around. Everything was in place. He walked around the camp and brought his rifle up, looking out into the distance through his scope. Always vigilant, he never took his attention off of his surroundings. A product of his time in the military, if something was posing a threat, he'd see it. He only saw the usual. Tree lines, mountains, wild life and distant Twilight, Alliance and Horde camps. He sighed and lowered his rifle, returning to the main body group.

"We may not want to linger much longer, Commander. With how soon this Alliance element found us, I can safely guarantee that Horde or Twilight are soon inbound. I'd say we might be safe over night, but any longer will be pushing it." he took a knee down and held his rifle by the barrel, the stock in the dirt.
Gaream remained silent throughout this exchange. He had always disliked magic users in general, due to two main reasons. Firstly, he had always seen it as a crutch, one that people who are not skilled enough to do things themselves use to get around putting in the effort to do it themselves. For instance, warlocks using demons to do things for them. Secondly, you could link almost every major life threating event in history to magic in some shape or form. In his eyes, the world would be a much better place without it.

But, right now, all that mattered was that this stupid warlock was holding them up, and could possibly give away their position if he continued like this. "If you two want to spend the rest of your unlife arguing with one another, be my guest. However, we have slightly more important things to do at the moment. We are going to be spotted if we stay here much longer. It is time to make a decision. Do we want to make an attack on the twilight camp, or do we withdraw to safer ground? Make up your minds, or I will just leave you both to die.....again".
There wasn't much down in the Twilight Camp to see, most were either sleeping or performing some silly rituals to their Old Gods. Nothing to see. A snap of the warlock's bony digits dispelled the green eye and sent the collective bits of fel energy scattering into the winds. That done, he turned his attention back to the two undead in front of him. "Attack the twilight camp? Why? There's three of us and hundreds of them down there, what is this goal you seek to accomplish?" He scoffed, waving his arm dismissively at that suggestion. "Besides, Captain Rage back there will be -mighty- mad if you go against his orders. "

A rasped chuckle escaped his lips as he turned on his heels and gestured for Marilyna to follow. "Scouting's done, I'm sure you can handle reporting back, ranger. I..have better things to do." Another wave of his arm brought a cascade of fel energy from his staff, swirling down in front of him until it rose up morphing into the towering form of his steed. As he mounted the great beast, he turned back, holding up a bony appendage to stop Marilyna from following. "You stay here with these two, I'm sure they could use your help." Smirking, he nudged the steed with his heels and started off back towards the camp.

Marilyna stood with hands on her hips, mouth agape as she watched Kortanus start to leave without her..again. She risked a glance back over her shoulder at the dark ranger, gulping. She could be strong if Kortanus was here and on lesser beings but Cenerae was a different story. She could probably kill her without much thought. "Uhh...hi." She twirled her fingers innocently in her hair as she tried to give her best smile.

"I'm kidding." A voice came from behind, causing the succubus to jump. Kortanus lowered a hand to help her up and gave a simple wave to the other two as he once again took off. They might notice that as he headed back towards the camp, he took a different path, one leading him away from it, towards the twilight camp. There was something he needed to know and it required a little bit more than a floating eye.
Sammuroth sighed as the gnome preceded to give orders, "So since I already am standing in front of you does that mean I don't have to move, maybe I should have a seat and rest my paws a bit. I mean I have traveled quite far on foot, and my paws could use the rest," of course the druid was joking, mainly because the gnome thought she could give him orders. Sammuroth took orders from only a few people, and those were the Archdruids, and even then he tended to do things his own way. The druid was not a rebel by any means, he just generally found better avenues to take while on a mission, the cat was first and foremost a strategist after all. As he had said to the woman earlier whatever accolades this gnome had, didn't matter much to him, it would be her actions from now that would judge whether she earned his respect or not.
Adam Orris stared calmly at the Gnomish woman while she explained the position that she and her group found themselves in.

“We are the Borean Patrol,” she spoke. “We've already had a few Alliance squads dispatched to bring us to justice, so to speak. We do what has to be done, and this is merely a setback that will not delay us for long.” The Gnome then motioned to her group, “We appreciate your efforts of healing, and if you wish to follow us to Grim Batol instead of joining the blood-frenzy of war, good for you. It is your decision. We are heading to take down the Cultist forces at Grim Batol, and give aid to those still fighting for the right thing.”

The last minute commander nodded his head as the Gnome woman, Vimmi Spannershield, finished speaking her part. Listening to her talk, Adam could hear the urgency in her voice; the steadfast devotion that she had for stopping the Cultist's war against Azeroth. Even the very mission that she laid out before her and her crew, to strike the Twilight Hammer's very seat of power...it was ballsy to say the least.

Adam looked around at the bedraggled group that, even now, continued to pull themselves together. They were a strong bunch, he could tell that just by looking at them; they weren't the sort to go down very easily. Still, with all the men he had backing him, and his own capability, Adam was confident that his squad could handle them if he gave the order. Though he didn't consider himself a dog of the military, he did admit that for now he was under their service and that it would be expected of him to try bringing this group of traitor's back in chains. However, as he contemplated how to handle the situation, and their goal in the Twilight Highlands, Adam's thoughts shifted to the things he'd fought to protect in this world. To turn on a group of selfless individuals like this Patrol...

Adam looked Vimmi in her eyes. "I'll be honest, I don't care much for this war going on with the Horde. I'm sure both sides have gotten their hands dirty playing with each other's laundry. What I do care for though is this world, or, at the least, the people in it, and the cultists nestled safely in Grim Batol would see these things burned to ash. I've spent years safeguarding this world as I saw fit, and now I see fit to help you with your goal, Vimmi Spannershield."

Adam Orris stepped back and threw his cloak aside, revealing the longsword beneath and placing a hand atop the handle. He kept his shield arm down and allowed the cloak to rustle freely in the breeze. Beneath his helm, a single tear welled up in his right eye and he grimaced.

Veronica...maybe now I can say I fought my hardest to keep you safe... "I will see to it that I, and this group, do what we can to ensure you arrive to your destination safely." He boldly declared.

No sooner did he swear his blade to Vimmi Spannershield and the Borean Patrol than the gunman from earlier approached. "We may not want to linger much longer, Commander. With how soon this Alliance element found us, I can safely guarantee that Horde or Twilight are soon inbound. I'd say we might be safe over night, but any longer will be pushing it." When he finished speaking the man lowered himself to one knee and leaned on his rifle for support.

"If I may, Spannershield, your man is right. While I'm confident we could fend off any scouting party that might be sent to discern the nature of this crash, I'm sure it would be a hassle best avoided." Adam Orris looked off in the direction of where Grim Batol stood, where the Alliance and Horde were busy clawing at each other's necks just as much as the cultists dwelling within the spire. "It's dangerous, but...we may be able to slip through, at least to the front, if you and the Patrol allow my men to take you into custody..."

Adam's eyes shifted to regard the large feline sitting nearby. The creature had spoken aloud earlier while he tried to sort out business with Vimmi, so he assumed it to be a druid of sorts. Suffice to say, he wasn't about to waste any time speaking with a lone druid so far out of the way from any town. Adam's sole interest was in whether or not the Patrol would accept his help and, if not, simply getting back on the way to the front lines.
Sammuroth listened intently to the Alliance, and gnome commander's conversation looking disgruntled at being ignored. Oh, well guess it doesn't matter anyway, he watched slightly amused as the so called Alliance commander swore he and his men the this "Patrol's" goal. Though he did agree on the stupidity of the war between the Horde, and Alliance, his first duty was to the Cenarion Circle, and while these peopls goals coincided with his own, he doubted his superiors would be happy about his helping them. Though there was a peace between the Horde, and Alliance members of the druidic order, the fact that these people would do anything to complete their mission, would probably make those of his order question, whether they could be trusted.

It was a conundrum, for the druid, fight the Cult with this "Borean Patrol" or continue on his own, for all of his ability he knew he could not defeat the cultists alone. "What to do, What to do," the cat thought aloud, he still felt slighted for being ignored, but was that really a good reason to dismiss this group, the cat fell into thought, as they discussed their next move.
Yolo squad

Coron nodded at the Commanders words and took flight, acknowledging her with "Aye, Commander" before launching himself easily into the sky. He would begin to slowly circle around the carnage of the crash, his sharp eyes looking for any other signs of life besides the people they had already. His eyes flickered to where Lia would be standing before looking back to his task.

Lia watched from the ground as the Talon soared above the Patrol and new comers. She had also been abcently been listening to the conversations of Vimmi, the Alliance leader and the strange cat that arrived. The cat, most of all, irritated her, he spoke as if he was in the place to judge the Commander so easily, this made her annoyed, and angry. Seeing as Perfection was standing at waiting for the Commander to give orders, the Sin'dorei turned her jade gaze towards the girl, and beckoned her over.

Perf responded with out question, walking up with a raised brow that indicated she wondering on what the Warrioress had to ask of her. Lia placed her hand on the girl's left shoulder pad and pulled her closer to whisper into her ear "What's the deal with the cat" It didn't sound like a question, more like it sounded like a command, Perf knew Lia well enough to know that something was annoying the Sin'dorei.

"Corebutt and I found him, sitting in the shadows and watching the group. He's no threat, no matter how big he thinks he is.....why do you ask?". Lia let out a silent snarl "Because...he is starting to irritate me" She gave the Assassin a firm pat on her shoulder "Keep by the Commander's side till I return...". Perfection would have caught the Sin'dorei's wrist, stopping her from moving any further "What are you going to do?" she asked, keeping her voice low.

Lia would have pulled her wrist away from the girl's grip, which Perfection allowed easily "I'm going to give him an ear-full" was her response before she walked off, plated boots slapping against the hard earth with hard thuds. Though the distance was not great, she still stomped towards the cat and pulled up her visor to reveal her face, the scars on her cheek giving her an almost sinister look "You, Cat" she said, making sure the Druid cat heard her and only her "You're bold for waltzing up here and demanding answers, aren't you?" she would have asked.

Not giving him time to reply to this, she would continue "I want you to listen, and listen carefully to what I'm about to tell you, because the next time it may as well be not as kindly as now. This Patrol has gone through A LOT, these past few months, and has faced many...MANY dangers. They are in no mood for some Druid cat who has a pathetic attitude and the ego the size of Kalimdor. So, here is what you're going to do, you're gonna sit there, like a good kitten, and listen and wait for the Commander to give her orders and get the Patrol organized and wait for her to be free. If you are going to keep on pressing for answers to these 'questions' of yours...then..."

The grooves in her armor began to glow a florescent orange, making strange patterns across her arms and her legs and up to the top of her helm. Runes would glow on her hands, ankles, chest, and helm, she would almost look like something on the same lines as the Rune Dwarfs in Northrend or the Iron Vrykul "I'm going to punt you straight across these highlands with a broken jaw"

Perfection sighed, overhearing Lia's words "C'mooonn, Lia.." she would have muttered "...leave the cat to Low, where ever she is. I for one knows that Low enjoys these kinds of people....or...things like it...seeing as it's a cat" She turned her attention to the man on the horse "If you were refering to the cat, he isn't one of us. I also think you underestimate us a little bit....there are many in here that can loose an arm and keep on fighting just to serve their cause. If you think a Zepplin crash is gonna slow us down, even by a little...well...you really don't know us that well. Of course, I don't speak on behalf of the Patrol, that is Commander Vimmi's job. I, for one, will follow Vimmi to the death, so will the warioress over there." She jabbed a thumb at Lia "However, again, it's the Commander's call".
Cenerae remained silent as the unwanted 'companions' talked. Attack the camp? Madness. Better things to do? Such as...what, exactly?

At least the warlock hadn't gone and left his demon with them. Chances would have been good that it'd start complaining. Loudly. And bring a lot of soldiers looking for the source.

Instead, the ranger just shook her head, returning to finalise her numbers with a trained eye. And that was when she caught the warlock riding toward the twilight camps out of the corner of her eye. "Is he mad?" she wondered aloud. Stringing her bow as she did so.

Perhaps they would have to do some fighting yet. The ranger put Gaream out of her mind and continued her scrutiny, though was now much more noticeably tense and expectant.

Join the Conversation

Return to Forum