Into The Darkness (IC)

World’s End Tavern: Role-play and Fan Fiction
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Dark, dangerous, and full of many horrible creatures. Even with its self-appointed guardians, the Night Watch, helping to stem the tide, the place was deadly to the unwary.
For the Druid Grishmak Hollowtree, it was home, and it had been for some time now. Ever since the fall of Gilneas, he had made his home there, in the rather small town of Darkshire.

It was difficult at first; not only a Worgen, but a Druid as well? The moment he stepped into town, the watchfulness and looks - sometimes angry, sometimes scared - told him how he was viewed.
Despite this, he set to work, volunteering his skills as a healer to aid whoever needed it. It was slow going, but some of those in town began to warm to him; it was a start, however small.

This changed, once he brought back his friend, the Mage Sairdna Runefire. The Elf, though powerful, was still a little fragile, and needed help. Once more, those in town viewed him with suspicion. Only his previous actions, as well as a position in the Cenarion Circle, kept them from overt demonstrations of hostility against Sairdna. They both set to work, offering aid to those who needed it, and slowly - very slowly for Sairdna - the people began to feel just a little more comfortable around them.

All of this was erased three months ago, with the actions of the Horde at Theramore. Once more, the two found them on thin ice, thinner than ever before. Sairdna retreated, hiding in Grishmak’s house, though she still created whatever she could to help. Grishmak, however, remained as he always had, offering aid wherever he could.
Then, the snow rolled in. The people of the town, already watchful around the pair, became even more suspicious of them.

It was in these circumstances that the Druid found himself, walking through a town that was highly wary of him, on his way to pick up what herbs he could from the store. His own supplies had begun to run low, due to the amount of healing potions he had stockpiled.
Trudging through the falling snow, Grishmak paused by the inn, debating stepping inside for a minute. Shrugging, he pushed open the door, moving through into the welcome warmth.

He was brought up short by the patrons there tonight. Examining the room, he spotted a trio of Night Elves, two Humans - Warriors, if their armor said anything - and finally - he shook his head at this - a Worgen, not even shifted into Human form.
Frowning at this strange gathering, Grish made his way to the bar, murmuring a request to the barkeeper for something to eat and some water. The man nodded stiffly, moving to gather the food.
Turning back around to watch the rather interesting newcomers, the Druid frowned. For some reason, the air had a faint hint of mint in it, along with something- worse.
Shaking his head to clear it, Grish sat back, wondering exactly what would happen. With the circumstances, he figured something interesting would be in store.
The master stared watched from afar, as his minions, thundered deeper and deeper into the dark woods. The hour of reckoning was at hand. The artifact, that the devourer had led him too was almost fully empowered, draining the souls of its victims, nay there very essence into itself. The master had learned quickly that the box hungered for more than just the sacrificed. Many faithful acolytes were lost in the opening days, souls torn asunder by the artifacts never ending hunger. Their sacrafices would not be in Vain, soon the devourer would be unleashed!

With a flick oh his wrists, the master, sent his gaze careening outward through the forest. For a moment, he paused over his riders. Like fell shadows the five thundered through the dark forest, driving before them any creature who cared for its life. Like fingers on a dark fist the riders branched out giving forming a perimeter few miles around Dark Shire. As the got into position they stopped, waiting in perfect stillness.

Allowing a smile to form upon his sanguine face The Master shoved down the giddieness that he could feel writhing inside him. "Now is not the time, for foolishness, the Devourer is waiting!" It was time to blanket dusk wood in eternal darkness!

Springing to his feet, the master stretched fourth his hands to the heavens and began chanting in the language of the Devourer's dark language. “Rak’nok Kiraz Torbath Kinarin Zil’crak,” the man shouted in a frenzy. Again he repeated the evil syllables with childlike glee, “Rak’nok Kiraz Torbath Kinarin Zil’crak!” The sky darkened The Master spoke in his blasphemic language.


Motionless, the leader of the black riders stood, waiting. Thick heavy robes, seemed to defy the wind itself, motionless as there master. And then it began, thunder began rolling acroos the sky's, cracking loudly as it barrled towards Dark Shire. The winds, which moments before were a steady breeze, now howled through the trees carry with it, heavy snow. Looking towards the sky, the creature grinned, soon it would be time to ride fourth, soon he would sate his unchenquable desire to kill.


Jeramayan sat back and listened as the would be group of adventures started to come together. Elves, humans and worgen, Magi, druids, priests and warriors. Each race, each calling, all vastly different from each other, but all coming together in times of need. As the group was proposed, Jeramayan looked around, at the various patrons that crowded into the small inn. Each so hopeless, powerless they must have felt being unable to help their families. He would have been right there with them had he not endured so much in his short time on Azeroth. He knew as long as there was breath in his lungs, he would continue his search. The veteran warrior, clung to the slim hope that his family survived, it was all that kept him going.

As Jeramayan’s eyes drifted across the crowd, his eyes became transfixed on the window. Outside the sky seemed to roil in anguish as the clouds grew dark. Storm native to dusk wood could cause this. As if to accentuate his last thought, Thunder cracked high above causing cries to escape the cowed townsfolk who crowded the inn’s common room.

As the wind howled relentlessly, Jeramayan stood to his feet. Jeramayan could see the door buckling under the force of the wind and snow, turning to his new found compatriot’s he spoke in a low, steely voice “Something is coming friends, steel your hearts, the darkness has descended upon us.”

In the distant a mournful howl, echoed in the distance, not one of rage but one of anguish, of uncertainty, of worry. It struck Jeramayan as strange that such an inhuman sound could resonate so deeply within him. Sending a prayer to the light, Jeramayan braced himself for what the strike that he knew was about to fall.
Azurara visibly jumped when the thunder clashed. Although it was not the thunder that caused it. She was shaken from what she felt, she felt it for just a moment and it then faded, but it was enough to set her hair on end. "Azurara what is it?" Lynara asked grabbing the girl’s shoulders and turning her to face her.

“I felt a… I don’t know how to describe it, but at the exact moment of the thunder I felt a disturbance. Something just cast a very powerful spell. Unlike any I have ever felt. I don’t know where or how, but I felt its immense power.” The young elf said.

Lynara didn’t like the sound of that. She knew when Azurara was telling the truth, and this was one of those times. Then she heard the human man whom have been quite the entire conversation said “Something is coming friends, steel your hearts, the darkness has descended upon us.” The door barely held from the ice cold winds. Winds that were far too strong to be natural.

“Then whatever evil comes here will taste the blade of Shalla'tor.” She said. Her self-named great sword was in fact named after an ancient kaldorei blade Shalla’tor simply stood for shadow render, and fighting the armies of darkness it did. She had kept the blade for nearly ten thousand years. She usually catered to it daily to ensure it was in prime condition. She was confident in herself, but Azurara was nervious. “Keep your hear level and shut out everything else. Only concentrate on the immediate present. Use my advice and you will survive many battles.” Lynara said to her niece.

“Right.” Azurara said with a nod of her head. While she gave off the look of understanding what Lynara had said the elder elf could not help but think the younger did not.
'Where is that apprentice' he snarled to himself.

"Something is coming friends, steel your hearts, the darkness has descended upon us"

"What are you bab...." Coris could only finish half of his sentence when he saw the door nearly coming off of it's hinges. He quickly searched through some of the tomes he brought with him. 'This doesn't make any sense' he growled 'No storm this powerful could ever formulate so quickly.' He then grabbed his short staff, brought it to the front of his face and started humming.With his mind he reached out to every known location he could think of.

He went into Cynthia's mind as he saw her yelling out orders to her men. 'Looks like I'm not needed back Cynthia will take care of things.' He streched is mind even further careful not to go too far so that he doesn't go into the brink of madness. At the edge of his mind he saw a fox and decided to see what it was seeing. Upon entering the fox's mind he saw riders. They appeared to hold immense power by the small demonic aura that illuminated from them and he noticed none of them were truly friendly either. Just as the fox was getting closer to the riders it then noticed their power and sprinted away. He soon lost the fox after that.

'Damnit I wanted to know more' he snarled.' He thought the warrior knew what he was doing and decided after a short while to help him and this rag-tag group of individuals. "Alright I'm ready to go" he announced. Everyone but his team looked at him with suspicious eyes and the man with the red circles around his eyes pulled out his rusty knife again. "Oh would you just sit down I'm not hurting anybody" he snarled. He quickly looked through his healing tomes to make sure he wasn't missing something and waited for his new friends to join him.
Sammuroth felt the strangeness, and he didn't need the human warrior to know something was coming, having fought, demons, undead, and all manner of dark creatures, the druid knew when evil was upon him. Standing up the druid picked his way back to the door of the inn, he had no idea what was coming, and he hated going into battle without information first. He hated doing this, but he would allow the others to fight first, so as he could gather the neccessary information on the enemy and their tactics. "Why are you being such a coward, together we could rip this darkness apart, and maybe even feed on some of it hmm?" the druid ignored the "other" not having time for it's mocking attitude. Finding a suitable spot on top of the inn the druid leaped, catching his claws on the the roof, and pulling himself up, still stealthed, the druid crouched down. Hopefully nobody will notice I am here, I am sure those others can handle themselves just fine, but should my help be required, I will be ready.
”Azurara tell them why we are here.” The elder night elf commanded, and the younger of the two looked up, almost startled. Althmyst turned her head in the direction of where the night elf had been looking. The corner was vacant, however the shadows from the candles were playing tricks on her eyes. She couldn’t sworn... No.
"Oh yes, right. My mentor sent me here to find an arcane disturbance and neutralize it. My Aunt is here to keep me as safe as possible.” The red haired human’s eyes returned to the young girl, fixing her in a hard stare that could both root mortals on the spot, and soothe them.
”Perhaps we can work together. It is possible the two may be connected.”
”If you need help, I am an expert healer and would be willing to help just as long as you help me find a missing friend.” Laviette looked up at the worgen, her ears giving a small twitch. There were grumbles from the other patrons, but she ignored them and gave him a nod. After all, they could use all the help they could get; a fact these citizens seem to be forgetting in their discrimination and fear.

The shutters began rattling suddenly, and a painful shiver ran down Laviette’s back. She stood, wincing from it and staring accusingly outside. By now, nothing could be seen except the white blizzard outside.
“Something is coming friends, steel your hearts, the darkness has descended upon us.” The night elf swallowed, moving her shoulder blades to ease the poisonous pain from her muscles. Even still they ached, as though she had been trapped in a hunter’s frost trap and been frozen solid.
”The citizens.” She managed to gasp out. Nature was being bent by the powers of darkness, and it was physically affecting her. Althmyst gently touched the night elf’s shoulder, and she shook her friend off. ”The citizens.” She repeated insistently. Breathing heavily, she slowly straightened her back, gritting her teeth.

Althmyst had left the group for the moment, and was ushering the citizens into the basement, where they would hopefully be protected. Murmurs of confusion and fear were mingled in the air, yet Althmyst persisted, calmly uttering assurances and smiling to those who appeared apprehensive. ”It’s for your own safety.” She assured them, glancing at the door with hard eyes.

When she returned, Laviette appeared mostly back to normal, however the crease in her brow spoke of the amount of restraint it took for her to not double over in discomfort again.
”I’m ready.” The red blade hissed from its scabbard, and Althmyst slipped her arm into the leather strips on her shield, pulling it in front of her.
Words of power thundered through the small room as The Master continued to pour his immense power into the spell. Reaching into his robe, the man pulled fourth a small fist sized purple orb. With a brush of his mind, he activated it. “It is time dark rider, send fourth the dogs, let them sow terror throughout Dark Shire, and deal with all that remain… The cube hungers… Usher in the endless night!” Placing the stone back into his robe, The Master sought to complete the spell.


His long wait was over, as he storm’s unnatural fury grew, the Dark rider grasped the stone. Immediately it came to life in his hands.

“It is time dark rider, send fourth the dogs, let them sow terror throughout Dark Shire, and deal with all that remain… The cube hungers… Usher in the endless night!”

As the words sank in, the rider felt an emotion, joy. With great care, the rider replaced the orb from whence it came and drew his rune blade. Holding it a loft, the rider let loose a soul rending wail. The sound was echoed by the other riders. The horrid noise was the sign. The five riders drove fourth the worgen, before them straight into the small hamlet of Dark Shire.


As the wind howl grew louder outside, Jeramayan closed his eyes sending a prayer to the light. “May the light grant me the strength I need to complete my task, watch over Lil…” Before he could finish, the door which hand been holding back the full force of the storm, finally failed. With a great slam the handle from the door exploded sending the large oak surface to bang repeatedly against the wall of the Inn.

It was at that moment that a member of the Night's Watch ran through the opening and exclaimed raggedly “The worgen… have been sighted at the edge of the Village…. prepare yourself!” His message completed the young man race back through the opening returning to his post.

Jeramayan turned toward the barkeep, the veteran warrior spoke in a commanding voice, “barricade the entrance, it will be the only thing keeping you safe from the worgen’s bite!” With that he raced towards the door. As he crossed its threshold, he was struck with a blast of frigid air. Not since his journey in Northrend had he felt such hostile weather. A lesser man would have fallen, but Jeramayan was fuelled by purpose, no weather, no matter how unnatural would keep him from his family.

Pushing his way out into the thick snow, Jeramayan drew his longsword from it sheath. As the blade emerged it sang out purely against the howling wind, for a moment the two sounds fought for vied for supremacy; however the battle was lost before it had begun.

Squinting his eyes against the heavy snow, Jeramayan could see loping shadows milling about just outside of the meager light provided by the town’s torches. “What are you waiting for,” Jeramayan spat out through clenched teeth, his question was answered quickly. An unearthly wail tore through the wind like a lightning bolt headed straight for his heart. The sound so unnatural, so evil nearly buckled the mighty warrior. Fear filled his heart as Jeramayan tried in vain to block unholy sound. The sound seemed to stretch on for an eternity, however after much longer then it naturally should have; the howl of the wind finally quenched it.

In response, the worgen let lose a wail of their own and charged towards the town. From every direction, they came. Fear drove them, but fear also drove Jeramayan. Not fear for his own life, but fear for his son, for his wife. He let the fuel him, make him stronger, and with a lusty bellow of his own he charged the closet beast to him.


High above the village a small green orb sat motionless observing all. Seemingly unaffected by the weather that raged about it, the simple orb floated oblivious to the evil being perpetrated all around it.


The Master served as a conduit between the ley line and his dark spell, he watched with glee through the eyes of the riders as the five drove fourth the feral worgen. Though the defenders were outnumbered they fought courageously against their old foe. Swords and claw clashed again and again, as the two sides fought for their very lives. Their dance of death was pointless; they would all die in the end.
It all happened so fast until it was too late. The door had blown clear off and smacked him upside the head. He knelt down groaning in pain, but he knew he had to help the warrior who was running out of the inn. "Wait! Oh Light what is he doing!" he bellowed. He ran outside to see where the warrior went but he couldn't find him anywhere. After searching for only two seconds a horrifyingly gut-renching wail came out of nowhere. Coris knelt down and covered his ears. 'This demonic scream is too powerful' he thought snarling. He came back on his feet and he ran until he found human tracks.

After following the tracks for a short while he heared the sound of sword and claw. 'Oh no' Coris whispered. He ran as fast as his legs could carry him and soon met up with the warrior fighting a Worgen. "Hey stop it what are you doing!" he screamed. Noticing that whoever the warrior was fighting was not right in his head. "Oh my... Jeramayan wait up" he yelled fumbling through his incantations and succsesfully preformed a Power word: Shield on his friend. He had only just cast the spell when another feral Worgen jumped on him from behind. "Agh! Get off of me" He snarled casting Holy Fire. The Worgen fell down and hit his head on the tree which knocked him unconsious. On closer inspection he saw tattered robes and money in a shredded pocket. "Oh.... Oh no" He mumbled fumbling to get closer to his attacker. The auburn hair, the robes, it couldn't be. It was his apprentice. 'Oh no what have I done' He snarled to himself. He checked the feral Worgen's pulse and his breath and realized he was just alive. Tying him with rope he gathered from his bags he tied him to the post to let him rest.
Lynara turned to her niece. “Azurara whatever you do, stay and defend this inn! If any of those beasts try to get in here freeze them solid. I am going to fight them off from the outside. My skills are much better employed outside with the others.” She said her face as serious and concerned as it ever was on this trip. Azurara was her sister’s daughter and Lynara had treated her with as much love as her own daughters. She would be damned if her sister’s only child died on her watch.

Azurara nodded and held her staff in hand. The crystal at the end was radiating a blue light as she prepared to freeze the feral worgen that would inevitable come for the inn “May Elune keep you safe.” She said as she watched Lynara charge out of the tavern with Shalla’tor in hand. The ancient great sword had a faint glow to it as the warrior followed the human as best she could. Azurara has placed wards of the pair that was helping with the cold, but Lynara still felt it biting at her like fangs.

Lynara took a steady breath as the first worgen charged at her. She charged back at it, her blade held out and rolled under the predictable blow the beast threw. She rose up and brought her sword down, cutting the beasts head off. “First one is always easy. Then the others attack with more caution.” She muttered to herself as more worgen approached. She saw the human warrior and what looked like the worgen priest.
Whatever was going on, both Sammuroth and the "other" could feel that it was an unnatural darkness, and that something was driving the worgen, what that was they couldn't be sure. Looking into the trees the druid thought he saw figures moving, dark shadows darting through the trees, too tall to be worgen. What is going on in this place, it is obvious something is driving this darkness, but who or what it is is unknown, I do not like going into a fight without knowing my enemy. The druid was still crouching on top of the inn, watching the battle unfold, so far only feral worgen had appeared, and though the defenders were fighting bravely, it seemed to the druid to be almost a pointless struggle. The defenders were outnumbered, and unnorganized, if someone didn't take charge they were doomed, and even if they could hold back the worgen, the problem remained of who was driving them forward. Show yourself bringer of darkness, let me see your face, so I can rip it from your skull, the druid continued to watch, and wait for the driving force behind the worgen to enter the fray, if they ever did.
There was a groan, and then a slam that caused Laviette to jump. A rush of freezing cold air burst into the room following the noise; the door had been slammed open by the force of the wind, and it banged loudly against the wall before the hinges gave away as well. The large chunk of wood came barrelling into the room, and Althmyst was forced to jump aside, lest she become knocked off her feet. The worgen wasn’t so lucky; kneeling, he groaned at the pain he must have been feeling, for the door had hit him in the head. Laviette winced, and sent a few tendrils of green healing magic towards him, hopefully lessoning his headache. Never one to be amazingly fluent in the art of healing, she couldn’t actually tell whether or not the spell worked.

Pain forgotten, the worgen got to his feet and ran after the human warrior. Althmyst glanced at the door to the basement. A man stood there, watching curiously, yet with fright in his eyes. For a moment, the woman seemed torn, but then she went to the man. ”Do you have any weapons?” She asked the citizens cowering in the basement. A few men nodded, raising rusty blades or skinning knives. ”If we fail in defending you, those tools will be the only thing keeping those worgen from tearing you, your women, and your children a part. Prey that you do not have to use them, but be ready if you do.” She advised them. As she exited the kitchen area, she closed the door and barricaded it with a chair. ”Lock the door behind me!” She called through the measly defence. There was no time to remain behind and know whether or not they actually followed through with her orders; she left, pulling out her weapon again as she approached her friend.

Laviette stood near the doorway, her white hair whipping in the wind that poured in to the building and chilled the air. At present, she appeared unbothered by the cold, but that was likely just the adrenaline that was now running through her veins.
”Stay safe.” She told the young kaldorei who was left behind to defend the citizens. ”Place traps, and don’t let anyone passed you.” Raising her arms, she called upon the strength, magic, and interconnectedness of nature, and commanded them to bless the young mage. A soft hum filled the room for a moment, and then a small brown mark appeared on the collar bone of the young elf; it was in the shape of a paw, and it seemed to glow slightly. ”That will help imbue you with power, and give you the same instincts and agility of a creature of nature. Use it well.” She advised, granting the same blessing to Althmyst and herself before leaving.

Without another glance at each other, the two jogged into the blizzard, preparing for a fight. Howls of terror filled the air, as well as snarls and cries of battle. The Night Watch was around them, trying to defend the town, however it was clear they weren’t as equipped to fight the worgen as the heroes were. Althmyst charged as a worgen bit into the throat of a guard, bashing into it with her shield as she swung her arm around, slicing into the creature. She felt her sword hit bone and continue through it. The worgen gave a whimper as the light left its eyes. ”May death welcome you, worgen.” Her heart wrenched, and she felt tears in her eyes. The act of killing sickened her, but sometimes it had to be done to protect others; protect life.
Pulling her sword from the beast, she caught it before it hit the snowy ground and gently lowered it to the earth, closing its eyes. The guard sputtered, blood dappling his lips. ”Shhh...” She went to his side, assessing the wound. He would be dead soon, if the change didn’t get to him first.
“P-please. I don’t want t-t-to be a... ‘gen.” He sputtered around his wound; his wind pipe had been crushed and it was difficult to understand him. She shook her head, placing her hands over his wounds and calling upon the healing powers inside of her. The snow around them melted a little, allowing small flowers to bloom around the body.
”Shhh...” The wound in his neck began to close, the wind pipe snapping into place. The guard winced, his back arching in pain as the healing underwent.
“Please no...” He groaned.
Her healing couldn’t remove the virus from his skin, a fact he apparently acknowledged. She only hoped that with time he would learn to cope with his new affliction. He gasped as the healing was complete, and sunk back into the snow, slowly coming to. When his eyes opened, they were the orange of a worgen, and already his teeth were growing. She brought her hand down, knocking him hard in the head with the hilt of her sword. ”Forgive me.” She whispered to him, knowing she had deliberately disobeyed his wishes.

Standing, she turned to face the onslaught of feral creatures. Giving a war cry, she charged into the fray, hacking and slashing at those who sought to end what she protected.

As a worgen charged for her, Laviette let out a roar of her own. Her bones snapped and rearranged as she grew into a snowy white bear. Standing on her hind legs, she was over seven feet, and now her claws caught on to the claws of the worgen, who had been intending to rip her to shreds. The bear roared again, pushing the beast back as she charged for it, swiping with her large claws. The worgen dodged, incredibly agile and swift, as it jumped at her, digging its teeth into her shoulder. Laviette snarled, swiping her paw again and catching the worgen in the jaw. She heard a snap and a yelp as the worgen jumped away, its jaw hanging limp. Still, it came at her, and she rose up again, wrapping her thick and powerful arms around it as her teeth dug in to its throat, ripping the head clean off its shoulders.

Warm blood trickled down her throat and stained her fur and the snow around her. She shook her head, then looked up and gave another roar. A fellow night elf was being surrounded by oncoming worgen, and though her blade gleamed with the challenge, Laviette knew that she would be over-run.

Her heavy limbs propelled her through the thick snow, and Laviette barrelled straight into two oncoming worgen. They were knocked aside, but quickly regained their footing to snarl at her. The deafening growl of challenge echoed around the scene, and the white bear stomped her paws into the hard packed snow, prepared to take another assault from these beasts. Bring it on, flea bag.
Sammuroth watched the battle unfold, becoming more convinced that the defenders were in a hopeless situation, if they don't do something soon, then Darkshire is doomed. A faint smell met the druids nose, followed by footsteps coming from behind him, turning around he saw a lone worgen creeping along the roof, a hungry look in it's eyes. Now what do we have here, you picked the wrong roof to be on my friend. the druid got up from his crouching position, and waited for the worgen to get close. When it was close enough the cat pounced, onto it's back, raking his claws all the way down, the worgen howled in pain, but the cat was not going to give it time to recover. Running underneath the worgen the druid tripped it up with his tail, as the worgen fell, the cat pivoted, and leaped back at the beast, bowling it the rest of the way over. The cat proceeded, to rip the beast to shreds, raking his claws all over it's body, until it stopped moving, "May Elune guide you into the afterlife," he said a small prayer, as he pushed the beast off of the roof. Returning to his position, and stealthing again, the druid continued to watch the battle, come on out you cowards, stop sending these small fry to do your dirty work.
As Jeramayan charged the worgen, he swung his long sword in a low sweeping arc in an attempt to cripple the rabid beast. Unfortunately, the worgen did not feel the need to comply with Jeramayan’s wishes. Leaped on it powerful hind legs, the worgen leaped over the charging man raking its claws across his back as he did. Grunting in pain as the blow landed home, Jeramayan pirouetted, turning to face his attacker. Again the worgen charged him, however this time, Jeramayan brought his blade up to guard and waited for his attacker. As the worgen drew within striking distance, a brilliant flash of light descended over the warrior, stalling the worgen in mid strike.

Taking advantage of the worgen’s confusion, Jeramayan went on the offensive. Slashing again and again, the warrior proceeded to push his opponent back. As the worgen parried each blow Jeramayan through, the warrior began to attack with reckless abandon. As the warrior swung wide, the worgen ducked the blow. Meeting nothing but air, Jeramayan lost his balance on the icey ground and topple over.

Upon seeing victory close at hand, the worgen let loose a victory howl and pounced on the prone warrior. The only thing that kept the beasts razor sharp claws from ending Jeramayan’s life was the shield that the priest had cast.


The Captain of the Dark Riders watched with glee as the worgen fell upon the defenders with reckless abandon. However as the initial surprise wore off, the towns denizens began to put up an organized defense. Men and woman wearing black began to form a phalanx in order to repel the attackers. In one on one fighting the worgen could easily slay their opponents due to their feral strength, this very feral instinct proved to be a disadvantage when fighting in groups.

In addition to the Nights Watch, others, cleary stronger and more trained were fighting in defense of the town as well. As the Dark rider fixed his gaze upon these knew foes, the familiar voice of his master echoed through the collective hivemind of the five, “Scatter the fools unto the winds, they shall join the sacrifice!” As the masters voice faded from their minds, the leader of the five let out a demonic howl and charged the Phalynx. With unholy fervor, the Dark rider swung his rune blade killing at will. Shrill laughter echoed from behind his Helmet as he sated his lust for bloodshed. All who stood against the mounted rider fell, their armor cleaved through, their weapons shattered upon his unholy blade. As the defenders fell, the survivors broke before the creature’s onslaught. Worgen and human alike fled, before the creature’s power.
Sammuroth watched in horror as the Dark Rider completely broke the defender's lines single handedly, so you are the one driving this attack. The druid was no fool, he could tell immediately that even though he could probably hold his own against the Rider for a time, he would not come out of the battle alive. He was still going unnoticed by everyone and everything, and with everyone fighting the worgen, there was no way to organize a concentrated attack on the Rider. Even if they could, just about all of the defenders were wounded, and weary, they would not be able to fight with their full strength. I think it's time they think about evacuating the civilians, keeping them here is probably playing right into their hands, with no survivors word could not be sent in warning to Stormwind. The druid was not sure what he should do, throwing his life away to try and stall the Rider would do no one any good, and he couldn't give away the element of surprise. His inability to do anything, without sacrificing somethign was frustrating, he could feel the "other" trying to insert it's control, but the druid forced it down. Come on you need to get out of there, and get the civilians to safety.
A third worgen fell still. Lynara wiped some blood from her face. “They just keep coming.” She said to herself as another charged at her. She ducked beneath it before raising her boot into its gut. The worgen stumbled and struck again, this time striking Lynara. Causing her to hit the ground hard. She felt blood where she was struck and saw the worgen raging at her, blood lust in its eyes. She struck out with her plated boot, cracking it right in the muzzle. Blood and a tooth or two flew form its mouth as this bought Lynara time to recover. She charged at the worgen ramming her shoulder and thrusting her blade into its chest. She ripped her blade free of the beast’s body. Pain raked her back where he beast had hit her.

Then a dark rider broke the defenses main line. “This cannot possibly be good.” She said as she began to over towards the rider. He was almost effortlessly striking down defenders, even breaking their blades. “A common sword perhaps, but this is no ordinary sword.” She said to herself as she began to think of a plan of dealing with this guy.

The worgen roared as he entered the Inn. Azurara jumped again as the beast reviled itself. Thinking quickly she a wave of ice that froze the worgen in place. The beast began to struggle against its bonds as a frostfire bolt hit it square in the chest, both freezing and burning its flesh. It howled in pain before suddenly becoming silenced by a lance of ice piercing its exposed neck. Grasping at the wound the worgen collapsed dead.
"Hold still Jeramayan your hurt pretty badly" Coris said slowly healing him with a cool wave of Penance. When Coris was just about finished with helping out Jeramayan he heared clashing of steel and weapons breaking. "What is going on?" he asked annoyed. He waited until Jeramayan was completely healed and turned around to see one of the riders he saw earlier in the fox's mind. "Oh no" he growled. The rider was intense killing everything in sight. Coris went down and hid in the shadows to see what was going on and he noticed the other warrior was eyeing the rider and he saw her hesitate to go after him. "Wait you don't know how strong he is!" he snarled. She couldn't hear him over all the noise. After flipping through a smaller tome he finally casted Power Word: Fortitude and Power Word: Shield. He then stood by her side waiting for her to attack.
A wake of dead was left behind the red warrior as she fought her way through the fray to the others. The wound in Laviette’s shoulder seemed to be hindering the druid more and more, slowing her down and leaving her open to attacks. Every time she cast a simple healing spell on herself, another attack came; it were as though the worgen could sense her weakness, and now sought to finish her off quickly so they might turn their attentions to the rest of the guards and heroes. Althmyst gritted her teeth and cleaved through another worgen, hacking it in two. Gray brains pooled out of its head, and mingled with the dark red snow. The irony scent of blood caused her head to spin and her skin to feel dirty; she wanted to tear off her armour and soak in a hot spring until she forgot about all of this. Bile rose in her throat, burning the lining as she forcefully swallowed it back down.

Cutting down two more worgen around Laviette, she helped the bear back to her paws and passed a healing hand over her body.
’Thanks.’ The bear’s thought panted through her head.
”Not a problem.” Althmyst replied. ”Stay close with me.” Pivoting her body, she slammed her shield into the side of a worgen’s head, who had been charging towards another member of their group.
She watched as the other human warrior was taken down, the only thing between him and a worgen’s pair of snapping jaws, a light shield that was probably nearing the end of its duration.

Her heart hammered in her chest as she charged onwards, yelling profanities at the beast on the human’s shield. That seemed to get the beast’s attention as she ran into it, ramming it off of the human with a thrust of her shield. It went toppling over, rolling a few times from the sheer force of the blow. Little time was left to recover, however, for within seconds Laviette was upon the beast, pinning it down with her sharp claws as she closed her strong jaws over the beast’s neck and ripped a chunk of its throat out. Breathing heavily, Althmyst wiped blood from her face, ignoring the rough material of her chain mail gloves.

Holding out a hand, she offered to pull the human up from the ground. ”You alright bud?” She asked him, grinning. Long ago her shades had been knocked from her face, and her fiery eyes blazed with the heat of battle, unperturbed by the shades.

Pulling her mouth from the dead worgen, Laviette snorted blood from her nose and spit chunks of flesh out. A horse gave an unnatural cry as it reared, drawing attention to the dark rider upon its back. He cackled, swinging a blade that cut through a guard’s own weapon and decapitated him. A stunned looking head rolled to the snow, mouth gaping as blood poured from it, and a pair of eyes blinked. As the horse came crashing back, its hooves stamped the guard’s head, and gray matter oozed onto the snow, mingling with the dark red and yellow. Laviette swallowed, ignoring the salty taste of blood as it slid down her throat.

Glancing to the side, she noticed the warrior staring at the dark rider as well. She breathed heavily, paw crushing the ribs of the worgen as she walked over him and paced beside the warrior and priest. Her lips pulled back and she stood on her hind legs, towering over the two as she let out an ear-ringing roar.
Sammuroth watched as the ones he had taken notice of in the inn cut through the worgen's ranks, finally meeting up with each other. Battling that Rider in their present condition is fruitless, they are just going to get themselves killed. Most of them looked injured, some injuries were minor, but others seemed major, if they were smart they would flee now and try to get the survivors to safety. At this rate I am goin to have to jump in, the druid was the only one that wasn't wounded or weary, having saved his strength to fight the driving force behind this attack. The druid decided to wait just awhile longer to see how things played out, but just in case, he stealthily leapt from the roof of the inn to another roof nearby the Rider. If battle was joined with it, the druid would be ready to strike.
The Inn

Grishmak frowned, feeling a distinct tightness in the air, as though someone had stretched almost to breaking. There was something else in it too. He frowned, concentrating, trying to figure it out.
His concentration was swiftly interrupted by the door of the inn slamming open, letting in a blast of frigid air, along with the distinct howls of-
‘Worgen.’ He thought, frowning. His armor and weapons were at home, left behind because he didn’t really expect an attack, even with tensions so high.

“Keep living, keep learning.” He muttered to himself, pulling his thick blue cloak closer around his shoulders.
Seeing the others rush out into the fray, and watching the bartender try to barricade the now-empty doorway, the Druid steadied himself. Closing his eyes, he reached out mentally, trying to connect with someone he knew would help.

Grishmak’s House

The house at the end of the street didn’t often receive visitors. In fact, most members of Darkshire did their best to avoid the two-story, ivy covered structure. They only visited when they needed the aid of one of the two inhabitants, and even then, usually used them as a last resort.
At the moment, it was mostly dark, light shining through only one of the first-floor windows. It was bright, steady light that did not come from a candle or lantern, but rather from a source as much magic as it was mechanical.
Inside that room, a solitary figure sat at a desk, piles of machinery parts spread around it. Small boxes on the desk held things like screws, gears, and the like. The larger pieces were packed in crates or simply sat on the floor.

The figure sat back, revealing herself to be a Blood Elf, dressed in a simple red shirt and brown cloth pants. A pair of goggles hung around her neck, the lenses blue. She frowned at the half-finished device on the desk in front of her. Sighing and shaking her head, she moved to take the thing apart.
’Sairdna!’ A voice called, faint. It echoed in her mind, despite it’s weak state.
Freezing, the Mage turned her head slightly, as though trying to hear the voice more clearly.
’Sai, listen. I need help. Worgen are attacking the town! I need you to grab my armor and pouches, and some of the healing potions I’ve stocked. Hurry!’

The voice cut out, leaving Sairdna frozen for a moment. Springing out of the chair, the Elf rushed through the house, dashing up the stairs to the bedrooms. Grabbing a simple black robe, she quickly forced it on over her current clothes, checking that the spells on it were in place before rushing to grab the Druid’s belongings.
Running back downstairs, she yanked open the door to Grish’s workshop, ignoring the hanging herbs rattling around above her. Opening one of the enchanted bags they kept for transporting things, she stuffed it with the armor and staves the Druid needed, adding on as many health potions to that as she could.

Slinging the bag onto her shoulders, as well as buckling the belt around her waist Sai grabbed the last item they would need - an ancient, worn spellbook. The symbol on the cover was faded past recognition, and the leather seemed close to ripping, but it still held together, even emitting a faint warmth.
Grasping the book, Sai forced the goggles back over her eyes, casting the world in a faint blue tint, as well as hiding her green eyes.
Racing back through the house, the Mage paused only to grab her own staff, the four crystals around the head humming pleasantly.
Yanking open the door, she rushed into the snow, determined to aid in the fight.


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