The Fall of Theramore (IC)

World’s End Tavern: Role-play and Fan Fiction
"We're gonna turn this place into rubble! Hehe..." Sky Captain "Dash" said to his crew as they flew over Theramore, moving into position to drop the Mana-bomb directly on top of the city-state. "Here goes nothing! Let's show these Alliance dogs how the Horde fights!" At that the goblin airmen moved to release the Mana-bomb and as they did the horns sounding the Horde ground assault upon Theramore could be heard.

That was the only warning Lady Jaina Proudmoore was given that Theramore was under attack, and the whistling sound of the Mana-bomb dropping to throw up a protective barrier as the purple energies of the bomb swirled around Theramore creating a massive crater within the center of the city.


"Move up! Take all the supplies you can find and defend the peons as they build up our defenses! The Alliance will come to take revenge!" Warlord Rok'nah shouted at the Horde soldiers as they entered the city, the seige engines they used to batter down the gates moving into defense positions pointing towards the Harbor where Alliance ships and crewmen could be seen scurrying about trying to figure out what happened. As the Horde forces started to move Horde ships, including the flying Zepplin, moved to land in the Harbor as the Alliance were forced back unto one measly ship where a lone mage cast a portal to draw in a small strike team of Alliance soldiers to help fight off the Horde...


"Alliance soldiers need to fight for Theramore! Take revenge for the fallen! All hands needed!" Was the cry that went up as soon as what had happened reached Stormwind. Any able body soldier was needed to fight off the Horde. A lone warrior was the first to answer the call, stepping up and saluting the Alliance officer in charge of sending soldiers through, "Master Sergeant Silver Longshadow reproting for duty sir." He said, his voice rough, from what can easily be seen is a lot of smoking, the intoxicating aroma of cigar smoke wafting away from him and the cigar sticking out of his mouth.

The officer simply nodded and point at the portal, "Wait here for a few others and then go through, you'll be leading a squad Sergeant, try not to get yourselves killed." Silver simply saluted, nodding as he moved off to the side waiting to grab a few others who looked like hardened veterans. "Let's get the party started..." He muttered to himself, puffing out a ring of smoke above his head.
Adrian Octavian was sitting on the stoop of a general store, smoking from a pipe when news reached of Theramore. Soldiers and aid were being looked for to go and fight off the invasion and he just had to be a part of it. Grinning and biting his pipe in his teeth, he dropped his plate vest over his shoulders and secured the straps at his sides, threw his backpack over his shoulder, picked up his rifle and jogged to the meeting area for those going to fight in Theramore.

The Marksman saw the crier on his soapbox. He slowed his pace and walked through the crowd, seeing a steady group beginning to form. The highest ranking seemed to be a Master Sergeant. He had seen this guy around the barracks and training grounds before, but never met him. He put his rifle resting on his shoulder and sauntered up to the MSgt, removing his pipe from his mouth, he extended his hand.

"Sergeant Adrian Octavian, at your service. Looking forward to the suck." He grinned and slid his goggles from his face to around his neck.
Drugh Bonecrusher sat in the Hordes Vengance brooding. For two days the young warrior had been trapped upon the vesse floating just outside cannon range of Theramore. He had participated in the conquest of northwatch keep. Bravely he and his comrades had washed over the keeps defenses leaving none alive. The defenders had fought hard, they had fought with honor,but in the end, Drugh Bonecrusher had conquered them. He gave the fallen a clean death. He hoped that when the ancestor chose to reclaim his soul, his opponent would do the same.

The siege was over quickly, as a final show of force, their war chief command the elements themselves to destroy the buildings down to the foundation. The next day he was among the many whom were sent to the ships to attack thaeramore from the water ways. Garrosh saw them off telling them that they were a vital piece to the victory that was too come. Drugh Bonecrusherhad assumed that the battle would be engaged soon, allowing the horde to keep its momentum. He had watched as reinforcement from the 7th legion were allowed to dock in the city unopposed. While he was beginning to have doubts, he had faith in his warchief. The captain of the Horde’s vengeance was as vexed as his troops were. Anxiously the troll paced the decks of the ship waiting to be given the signal.Earlier that day, he had received a missive that the attack would begin shortly, and that when the signal is seen he was to engage.

The day dragged on as all aboard awaited anxiously for the battle too come. In his mind Drugh Bonecrusher visulazed different scenarios that would occur. Ambushes, sniper fire, etc, while he was young, he knew that to go in unprepared was folly. This battle would be long, it would be brutal and it would be costly, but by the ancestors the horde would show the alliance true strength. Closing his eyes, the orc began praying to the ancestors. As he spoke softly to himself, a deep Orcish voice rumbled to his left, “Look over the city, there is a zeppelin!” Immediately his Drugh Bonecrusher eye’s snapped open as he went through a final checklist on his armor. Straps were tighten his helmet was fastened securely to his bald head. And then he saw it.

From the bottom of the zeppelin a small purple dot detached from the balloon and began falling towards the city. Raising his eyebrow Drugh spoke to no one in particular, “Is that supposed to be the sig…..” Before he finished the words a massive explosion of arcane energy erupted from the center of the city. Dazzling waves of crimson, Azure and amethyst swirled through the city. Moment’s later the arcs of energy collapsed upon themselves forming a tight ball over the top of the tower, and then it happened. The ball exploded outwards utterly obliterating the tower and destroying most of the port city. Where moments before stood strong stone walls, now all that remained was charred rubble and half standing buildings. The deck exploded in battle cry’s and laughter as the soldiers congratulated each other and beat their chest. The young warrior stood speechless, stunned by the power of the weapon that had just been used. Part og his leapt for joy, but a small voice whispered, “How is this honorable combat?” As the roars died down Drugh Bonecrusher tried to bury the question in his mind, but the harder he tried, the more the question echoed through his mind accusingly.

Shaking his head in disgust the young warrior focused himself on the battle to come, he would fight this inner battle later. Time slowed down as the ship approached the ruined dock. After an eternity, the ship finally landed and the young warrior hoped overboard and took a defensive stance. All around him other warriors were doing the same. As the men and woman milled around in confusion, the deep booming voice of their commandeered echoed of the wall, “Move up! Take all the supplies you can find and defend the peons as they build up our defenses! The Alliance will come to take revenge!" Bellowed Warlord Rok'nah. With a grunt, Drugh Bonecrusher headed with the other on the Horde’s Vengeance towards where the peons were hastily constructing make shift bulwarks to repel the alliance counter attack.
"What... a bore." Valamunre mumbled under her breath in Thalassian, her manicured fingernails drumming against the wooden ledge of the ship. Her other hand was cupping her cheek, her elbow resting. Being stuck on a ship wasn't necessarily her cup of tea, but she could deal with it, as long as she made some form of a profit in the end.

Valamunre Silverhawk, along with other Horde companions, were stranded on the Horde's Venegeance. The city of Theramore had been nearly wiped out, she too late for the fun of the fight, but she was summoned just in time to see the dropping of the bomb. It seemed almost like a holiday, to see a flash of wild colors, close to resembling fireworks, destroying a town which held the feeble Alliance.

A wicked grin spread across Valamunre's lips at the thought, her eyes twinkling and searching for the zepplin that was to drop the arcane bomb. There seemed to be no sign of it, yet at least. Once there was, they would soon be able to dock, and to rummage around in what was left of Theramore, to make the crater the Horde's. It truly was wonderful.

After five more minutes of continuing to search the skies, Valamunre sighed heavily, a small glare forming on her face. Her felhunter sat right beside her, Zhaagrom calmly swishing his tail back and forth. She laid eyes on Zhaagrom, slowly turning around to cross her arms over her chest. The felhunter soon met eyes with her, Valamunre curling her lip at the demon.

"While we're there, you deserve a nice body to munch on, you disgusting, foul, thing you!" Valamunre cooed, unable to resist the urge to pat the felhunter on its head. She began to walk away from the ship's ledge, when suddenly, someone began to mention the zepplin. Murmurs began dashing across the ship, heads and bodies turning, warriors checking their armor, preparing themselves to make way onto land. Valamunre did a quick look down at herself, not needing much. Her scythe was sharpened, her fingers were ready, and her armor was in perfect condition. All there was to do now was watch the exploding show.

Valamunre had only moved her head, glancing over her shoulder and spotting the zepplin, the purple, swirling, arcane bomb glistening in the sun. Just as it had dropped, her lips twitched up into a coy smirk, the proud, brilliant colors parading themselves off to the world, shouting the glory of the Horde in a single second. Shouts of pride and excitement were heard, almost every soldier and fighter on the ship ready to take off and fight. It had soon settled down sound wise, but the energy still flowed, keeping it perfectly lively. Valamunre herself couldn't help but keep the smirk on her face. She took a seat on an empty crate, crossing her legs and waiting for the ship to land by the ruined town so they could all finally be off of the ship.

In what seemed like ages, the Horde's Venegeance had finally docked, warriors filing off and taking positions all around the perimeter. There was no time for games. The Alliance would be fighting back no doubt, and when they were to arrive, wouldn't take too long. Valamunre had decided to finally leave from her seat and removed herself from the ship, glad to be back on what was left of the land. All that seemed to be there now was a giant crater.

"Move up! Take all the supplies you can find and defend the peons as they build up our defenses! The Alliance will come to take revenge!"

Valamunre rolled her eyes, strolling off the ship and placing her hands on her hips as everyone began to scurry around, forming groups together to go scavenging. It was obvious enough the Alliance would want revenge, did this man really have to repeat what was echoing within everyone's heads? Then again, there were those that just couldn't see things so clearly.

With a downward cast, Valamunre looked upon Zhaagrom, the felhunter waiting for her move. She exhaled through her nose, finding the peons and walking over there, her hands striking up with a charcoal and purple glow, ready for when any enemy would attack.
Andrew, looks around the barracks with a excited look and sigh's" Two Aces!..." the other soldiers laugh and agree. When suddenly the door is opened and a pale faced man move's in" Theramore is no more. The horde have attacked." Andrew stand's forgetting about the friendly game. Looking to his comrade's he grimace's" I am going stay if you wish, that town as been good to me."

Walking out he picks up his spear and puts it in his back. Looking around he sigh's letting the warm sun warm him up. With a look of business he grits his teeth and walks down the cobbled road, helmet under his arm. Stopping at the bridge he looks one last time upon the city, knowing the coming battle would be feirce, placing the helmet upon his head he turns away and walks toward the voice" Alliance soldiers need to fight for Theramore! Take revenge for the fallen! All hands needed!" seemed to come from the Trade quarter.

With a sigh of general anger, as he remembered some of his old squad mate's were stationed there. Moving forward, he puts a hand on his sword and walks toward the man, "I would like to go to help defend Theramore." The man looks at him and motions to another man. Moving towards him Andrew salute's and holds it" Lieutenant Andrew's report for duty, Sir!"

((Hope this is alright :P first post in a closed RP.))
Vynas was looking straight ahead from the ship with his arms folded and stairing as the mana bomb slammed down onto Theramore. 'Hugh... Wouldn't have gotten that bomb down without my scouting' he thought huffly. He had set up the perfect coordinates for the spot the bomb should be dropped but did he get the admiration.... the respect. NO! All he got were rude remarks and people looking at you shadily just for being a LIGHT DAMN ROGUE! He was tired of people always thinkin he was the bad guy. He would prove them wrong..... oh he was cetain to prove them wrong

Thats why he joined on this mission. To finally get recomendation... but did he. Not at all.... And guess who did get admiration. The damn goblins.

Vynas started to flare angrily and he soon found himself slamming a bottle on a table. 'Whatever, I knew I wasn't going to get admiration anyways' he thought taking out his pendant. 'Only you knew my love' he whispered holding it tightly to his chest.
The day had started out fairly normal for Jazzy. The Dwarven District was hazy with smoke from the forges, the noise of hammering and the clatter of hooves as horses and draenei moved in the streets. Jazzy made some adjustments on her flying machine. It would be a good day to test out the long range capabilities.

The sound of the call to battle echoed across the square as she stopped to listen. Her mouth dropped in shock. "Theramore? But Jaina Proudmore is there...has the Horde gone mad? Oh wait..just one...Garrosh..." she muttered under her breath. The cry went up for defense and Jazzy was not going to stand around waiting.

With a rush she finished her clean up and headed for the harbor area. Her armor of leather and some dragonscale was already on her back. She grabbed her brainsplitter and her axe, making sure they were well coated with poison. It did not take much, the volatile poisons would stop an elekk in its tracks or at least slow down a tauren.

The docks were crowded with soldiers and those who were anxious about loved ones leaving or having been caught in Theramore. Confusion was rampant. Jazzy made her way to the ship and saw a veteran smoking a cigar on the edges of the platform. He was standing next to a portal and she knew it would be to Theramore. She hated portals, preferring to go the long way, but this was not the time to quibble about it.

As her turn came up to the officer in charge she saluted and glanced at the veteran and then back to the officer. "Jaszmin Shadowstar, scout and combat veteran, reporting to duty, sir. When do we leave?" her voice was confident. She would be known to many of the Crown's officers for her past service. Though SI:7 claimed her for most of that time, she had been to Northrend enough to know how badly the situation could go if not tended to immediately.

Her eyes flickered with that silver blue glow that was nearly invisible in the darkness. She made a good scout, alert and deadly with blade or bow. Silent and fast, she was known as Nighthawk in code from her years with SI:7. She wore a cape of flickering colors, meant to fade into any background easily. Her long purple hair was tied back to keep it out of her way.
The staccato beat of Istella’s boot heels on the paving stones of the square was lost amid the mass of soldiers, clerics, adventures, and citizens milling about and conversing tensely amongst themselves. News of the attack had spread like wildfire and many had taken to the streets eager to lend a hand, seeking news of their friends and family, or just caught up in the general chaos. The young paladin shouldered her way through the crowd, breaking into a fast paced jog when the way was clear enough, Anicetus’ scabbard slapping rhythmically against her armored thigh as she hurried along.

She had been in the Cathedral for her prayer hour when the page had come to fetch her and a handful of the other senior cadets. At first she had welcomed an interruption to what is arguably the dullest part of her day, but as the boy relayed the grim news in a low, anxious whisper she felt a tight, cold ball form in the pit of her stomach. It’s not as if the attack surprised anyone, really. Not with the more and more aggressive behavior they had been seeing from the Horde lately. But still, such a blatant act of open war upon a city that was probably as close to friendly with them as the Alliance gets- Istella doubted that anyone saw this specific scenario coming.

As she hurried along, she caught snatches of conversations from the amassed citizens. The rumors of the attack varied wildly- some said that the Horde had swooped in on dragons and laid waste to everything in their path just as they had in the Second War, or that they had somehow tricked Lady Proudmoore and then betrayed her, or some even claimed that the entire city had been wiped off the map in an instant. Istella knew only one thing she would find there for certain- Horde. Most of the combat that she had been involved in since joining the Order had been in Northrend and the Plaguelands, where the two factions’ agendas largely overlapped and they worked alongside each other in a relatively peaceful manner. With their last, greatest common enemy defeated it seemed that the Horde’s rabid new warchief was ready to turn on them like a starving cur.

When she finally reached the staging area, a large number of professional soldiers and seasoned volunteers had already gathered near the portal to the beleaguered island. Lacking any formal orders other than to grab her gear and haul !@# over here as fast as she could, Istella scanned the crowd looking for an officer. When she finally spotted one she used her tall, heavily armored frame to force her way through the pressed bodies to where he stood shouting directions and ordering people this way and that. Before she could even open her mouth and get a single word out he pointed to her and then waved her off in the general direction of the port, barking simply, “You! Go over there and wait for one of the squad leaders to pick you up! You report to them now!”

Istella merely nodded in response, but even that simple gesture was wasted as the officer had already turned away from her to roar orders to another new arrival. She elbowed and shoved her way through the throng in the direction that he had indicated, wondering who she would end up assigned to.

The humans at Northwatch had been no threat. No challenge. They were too badly outclassed, and the addition of molten giants to the Horde army sucked out any fun from the encounter, too.


The wait had been even worse. Obviously the warchief had something specific in mind - or had lost his wits to madness - but the grumbling of the soldiers steadily grew. For a time. Then suddenly it stopped. Leaving Seyl the only option but to switch to a silent, internal grumbling, fueled by her invisible imp's prodding and attempted humor.


They'd finally gotten underway, smashing another Alliance outpost briefly before tackling the marshland. There had been too few soldiers, and once again there had been no fun. No challenge. Now she was holding the hem of her robes up and doing her best not to get them coated in swampwater, a severe expression of disgust plastered on her face. The orc warriors at her sides only half-concealed distasteful looks about having to deal with someone who was acting the dilettante. By the warlock's reckoning, anyone that thought leaving bloodstains on their armor was a good, sanitary thing had no opinion worth replying to. She kept her thoughts to herself.


She had been kept in reserve. It seemed an insult to her, and the elf was fuming. The rest of the army had broken down the gates and engaged in a battle with the Theramore defenders. It didn't seem to be going well from the hill she was watching from, and the Horde army soon retreated. She rolled her eyes at that, but then her gaze was drawn to an overhead zeppelin deploy it's cargo. "A mana bomb..." she murmured, scrambling away from her vantage point as quickly as possible.

At least it seemed her people would take some glory out of this useless endeavour. But as the bomb landed, and the concussive shockwave blasted the elf clear off her feet and face down into the dirt, she could only struggle back to her feet and watch with fascination at the eerie purple light that engulfed the city. Though dissappointed that the battle must surely be over with THAT, Seyl was pleased that she had witnessed it first hand. She would not have believed such a tale from the lips of anyone else.

The glow faded away, revealing a smoking crater and crumbling ruins. Seyl nodded to herself with a small amount of satisfaction, dusting herself off studiously and returning to the ranks of the solemn faced orcs. Then the order came for her group to secure the ruins. More boredom, then. Shrugging, she followed, her eyes roaming for anything left to actually kill.

Inside the ruins, the warlord Rok'nah was bellowing orders. Find and capture supplies? Build defences? She was no menial peon to do such work. Instead, she slipped away from the force, making her way to the harbor. A Horde warship was landing and more troops spilling out of it. More interesting to her mind, was an Alliance ship that had docked. It didn't look like a military vessel, but that didn't mean there weren't soldiers aboard.

Perhaps there might be some fun to be had in the venture after all. A wide grin came to the elf's lips as she made her way over to the Horde ship, intending to duck out from the foolishness of being put to physical labor, and with the full intent of getting the combatants to overrun the ship. She schooled her silly grin to a more neutral countenance as she approached, looking for anyone that could pass for a commander.

Silver shook his head watching all the young recruits and militiamen that were being pushed through the portal and assigned to groups. "Bunch of corpses is what they are... Gonna be too many body bags after this shin-dig..." Silver muttered to himself as he noticed a couple of veterans walking over towards him.

"Sergeant Adrian Octavian, at your service. Looking forward to the suck." He raised an eyebrow at the man's goggles but otherwise kept his mouth shut as he nodded smirking a little as he pulled his cigar out of his mouth and tapped it, the ash falling away to the ground leaving the fresh burning tobacco to burn a little brighter. "Well its about time they sent me some good men, you'll be my overwatch Sergeant, keeping me informed of Horde movements from the rear. Don't get yourself killed and I might buy you a drink." Silver said with a light chuckle as a Kaldorei came up to him, his eyes narrowing as he watched her weave her way towards him and one of the nearby recruitment officers who seemed really annoyed.

"Jaszmin Shadowstar, scout and combat veteran, reporting to duty, sir. When do we leave?" Laughed at her words, "Girlie you must really wanna die if you are that eager to hit the ground running!" Silver said shaking his head as he took another puff of his pipe, shrugging his shoulders a bit so that his black plate mail clanked a bit he motioned for the elf to join him near the portal. "You can join up with me, I'm headed out soon enough and with the number of body bags we already are gonna have don't need to add more to the mix." He smiled wolfishly at the elf and motioned for her to move over next to the marksmen as he saw another man join up with them.

"Lieutenant Andrew's report for duty, Sir!" Rolled his eyes and raised his hands in the shouting, "Hold up boys and girls we got ourselves a nifty little officer here! Lookin' good kid, how many combat situations have you been in? Actually don't answer that, but just so you know kid I'm callin' the shots on this one. I'd rather not end up dead if ya know what I mean." Silver said with a wink as he turned to look for a paladin or priest, both groups being easy to spot and sighing as he didn't really see anyone until he saw what looked like a paladain adept looking around and seemingly out of place in her mis-fitted armor.

Walking over to her Silver pointed at her, "Oi! You, girl! You a paladin? I need you to come join my squad, we are heading out now! Ready to hit 'em hard?" Silver said, his thumb hiking over in the direction of the portal which now had squads of soldiers moving through it.



"Alliance forces spotted! All hands to the Harbor! Hold the line!" Warlord Rok'nah called out, signalling his soldiers to open up on the Alliance, artillery already beginning to fire and ranged units moving up to take pot shots at the Alliance, with warriors filing in behind moving up to hold off the tide of Alliance soldiers.
Adrian unclasped the bipod on his rifle and set it on the ground, adjusting his gloves. He put his pipe back in his mouth and shared a grin with his new commander.

"I didn't make it through my multiple deployments to Outlands and Northrend just to be bested by some Horde. You can count on me to add a third eye to any of them." he lazily placed his hands in his pockets and noticed the others joining the group, notably the officer. He stifled a snicker and shared glances with Silver. He had experienced officers before, usually cherries when it came to joining a combat experienced unit. Always stuck with the paperwork and not too dependable in a fight. He was wary, and would give him a chance to prove himself.

From a distance, of course. The Marksman leaned up against a box, crossing his arms and gently nursing his pipe. The noise of the crowd fluctuated from rumor filled murmurs, to shouts of profanity against the Horde. There were peasants, and soldiers with ranging experience stepping up to the call. A Rogue, Paladin, and the Officer were the only ones so far to join this group. More were sure to come, be it in this squad or in another. It would be pure strategic insanity to try and take back Theramore with a single squad.

And that's just the way he loved it.

A plank of wood snapped, reminiscent to a gunshot. The marksman jumped, nearly dropping his pipe. His mind flashed red for a moment before he regained clarity. He hid his embarrassment and looked away into the crowd, eager to begin their mission.
"Oi! You, girl! You a paladin? I need you to come join my squad, we are heading out now! Ready to hit 'em hard?"

Istella turned to see a tall, scarred man shouting at her. She rankled slightly at being called girl, but she had seen enough combat to be familiar with the coarse ways of most field officers and it’s not as if she was overly-refined herself. Nodding in assent, she trotted over to them, her armor clanking softly as she moved. When she drew close enough, she shifted her rucksack from her right hand to her left and gave as professional a salute as she could force herself to make.

“Yessir, to both questions,” she said in her telltale Westfall drawl, “Cadet Istella Kincaid, reporting for duty and all that crap.”

That last part might have been more than a little bit insolent, but something about this guy gave her the impression he could take it and Istella wanted to see how he would react. Besides, if she was going to fight and more than likely even die next to a man, she wanted to at least have some gage of a his character.
Drugh Bonecrusher shifted his weight from foot to foot as he and two other warriors stood guard over the working peons. Feverishly the smaller orc’s workers erecting an earthen wall which would be used to funnel the counteracting alliance soldiers into designated kill fields. Unlike most of his brethren, he respected the work that the peons did. They were not warriors, they were not bright, but without them, the war machine would not function. Though they would never be able to earn honor or renown in combat, his life would be made many times harder without them.

As he watched them work, the young warrior breathed deeply allowing the various aromas of theramore to travel through his airways. Smoke and ash mingled with the salt water mist creating a bitter taste in his mouth. Walking over to a barrel of fresh water, Drugh Bonecrusher dipped his large meaty hands into the barrel drawing fourth a few large gulps of water. Though stale, the water washed the bitter taste from his senses refreshing the warrior. As he made his way back to his post, the deep booming voice of the warlord echoed through the ruined city. "Alliance forces spotted! All hands to the Harbor! Hold the line!" the large orc shouted. Turning towards his fellow warriors Drugh out a ear splitting roar and rushed to the docks. His comrades in arms let out war cry’s of their own and rushed to catch him.

All acroos the city, the forces fo the horde sprung into action. Casters of all schools joined the marksmen and archers inside burnt out towers, battered walls or on the roofs of any building that were still intact. Taking the high ground they positioned themsevles so that they could rain fire from above while still staying at a safe distance. Everyone else reported to the docks to repel the invaders. Together as one, the races of the horde push forward, eager to protect their newly acquired holdings.


Drugh Bonecrusher waited at the edge of the docks, perspiration forming on his heavy brow. Glancing along the hordes lines, the young orc swelled with pride as many of his friends and blood brothers were with him. From his right he heard a orc bellow, “Look to the docks brothers, The alliance Swine have come to retake their broken city!” Whipping his head around Drugh Bonecrusher saw the alliance pour forth like swarming ants. From portals and ships they came, murder in their eyes. He could feel the hatred coming from them, he hated them too. For too long had these people oppressed his race. Today he would usher them all to whatever afterlife they believed in.

Whipping his mighty two handed hammer above his head, the young warrior screamed at the top of his lungs “FOR THE HORDE!!” The phrase echoed from the lips of every warrior of the horde as the line charged the attackers. The young warriors vision narrowed as he acquired his first target, A tall barrel chested human whom had just run though his blade through a female orc. As the life left her eyes, Drugh vowed to avenge her.

Bellowing a warcry, the young warrior struck at the mans head with his mighty hammer. His opponent shifted slightly bringing his bastard sword up too block it. The two great weapons clashed together locking momentarily as there owners vied for dominance with each other. Letting his rage fuel him, Drugh pushed his opponent back by brute strength. With his blade in high Guard the man charged Drugh, striking at the young warriors head. Dropping to one knee drugh brought the shaft of his hammer to block his head. As the weapons collided, Drugh pushed off his knee, converting the mans momentum against him. The man flipped over the young orc losing his weapon and landing hard hard on the unyielding redwood dock boards. Quickly Drugh leapt upon the fallen warrior. The man knew he had been beaten and ceased his struggle as Drugh’s massive hammer caved in his skull.

As the hammer slammed into the redwood boards, his fallen enemies brain matter and blood sprayed over the young orcs armor invigorating him. A cry in a strangely melodic language was Drugh only warning before he was bowled over. As his back his the wooden planks he grappled with the large draenei whom had attacked him. He knew very little about the alien rrace that had recently joined with the alliance. He had heard stories about the Draenei and their interactions with the orcs on Draenor but he knew nothing solid. The large being deep blue eyes were seething with rage as the draenei slowly began to overpower the struggling warrior.
The gruff warrior seemed to think Jazzy was rushing into battle unprepared. Her elegant brow raised a fraction and she nodded simply, her eyes cool and alert as she moved to the side next to the portal. She had dealt with his kind before, their leers and jokes fell on her long ears with not quite the reaction they often expected. Not a trace of a smile touched her dark red lips and her fingers twitched on the handle of her axe.

She was not a bed toy or a whining female looking for attention. The long years of training put her on a par with the best Darnassus had to offer. She stood aside, her leather boots made not a whisper of sound on the wooden planks. Her pack was filled with rations and extra poisons as well as drinking water and a light bedroll. Looking around she thought she was probably better prepared than most of the green recruits she saw lining up enthusiastically.

Her experience with explosives and weaponry often had her repairing seige engines and building make shift bombs and grenades. The tools she needed were also in her pack, with a hammerpick she had made for herself to save space in her bags. Smirking almost to herself she wondered if this warrior knew how to make a bomb out of rags and powdered rock. The making of a mana bomb was well within her knowledge and she knew the devastation it would cause. It was one of the reasons she avoided working with magic. It was much too volatile, and likely to destroy more than it was intended.

The Horde would pay for this travesty. Theramore was only a small city-state, but it had held the hope of a lasting peace. Now there was none...hope for peace had been shattered by the idiocy of a madman. Jazzy gritted her teeth and leaned against the wall. Taking out a slender dagger she used for carving she etched some letters in the railing of the dock.

"Remember the Fallen, that their sacrifice be not in vain"
Andrew, smile's as the man mock's him " Now, you listen here, boy. I have been fighting since you were born and i'll be damned of i let some...... pipsqueak down talk me." As if to illustrate his point he drops a hand down to his mace, briefly considering teaching the pup a lesson. Grimacing, he stare's at the man with a hard look. He knew these kinds of people, the one's who thought they knew everything, they were usually killed quickly by their cockiness. "This one will be no different." Andrew thinks while looking the man up and down.

Shaking his head he mutter's to himself " I am going to go through the portal now, the other's need me right now. You people can claim all you want, but action speaks louder then words." At that he smile's at the other's while and shake's his head at the man. Walking forward, he step's through the portal to the other side. Looking at the carnage that surroundings him he raise's a his hammer and with a cry yell's "FOR THE ALLIANCE!, AVENGE THE FALLEN!"

((Right before school, short post is short.))
Vynas sat in his chair holding the pendant when an orc came to him growling. "What are you doing here rouge get out there and fight" he ordered. Vynas gave him a shrewd remark in his own language and got up. He stepped outside onto the dock and noticed a soldier rushing for him. He wore the standard guard armor but seemed to have a two-handed instead of a sword and shield. 'perfect' thought Vynas with a smile.

The soldier ran up to Vynas and swung like a madman. His attacks were incoherent and too far spread that Vynas started to torture the poor soldier by stepping to sides blocking. The soldier cursed in common and charged after Vynas. 'Heres my chance' he thought. He kidney punched the soldier in a chink of the armor and kicked his feet so that he fell to the ground. The soldier doubled over in pain for but a brief moment and got back up. This time the soldier was ready and he charged after the rouge. Vynas again skipped out of the way only to get hit by a counter strike.

Vynas fell to the floor with a thud. The soldier now upon Vynas ready to cut his head. 'NOW!' he screamed in his head and Vynas vanished. He strown around to the backside of the soldier and cut his back with his dagger. The soldier screamed in pain and Vynas was now visible again. The soldier ran after Vynas but now he was ready. Vynas jumped dodging the low strike and leapt at the alliance mans head nad swiftly put an end to his life by jabbing his dagger in his eye. The man struggled for a few seconds and soon fell still with blood oozing from the wounds. Vynas was breathing heavily and was getting tired.
Boredom struck so easily. Watching peons work was like watching her nail polish dry. Valamunre rolled her eyes and had her arms crossed, the shadowy glow fading away from her hands long ago. At least she didn't have to break a nail while these men worked. She smirked inwardly; men were good at working, especially the ones with no brains.

With her thoughts wandering, they were crudely interrupted with a shout from Warlord Rok'nah, Valamunre's ear twitching at the voice. "Alliance forces spotted! All hands to the Harbor! Hold the line!"

As soon as those simple orders were given out, guns began to fire and warriors raced to the docks, ready to fight and defend what the Horde had just taken. Valamunre whipped her head around at the sound of charging footsteps, a meaty orc ready to demolish her in his steps. With a playful grin, Valamunre let the orc keep running, nearly close enough for her to touch him. When he was at her feet, she clung onto his arm and picked herself up, throwing herself onto the orc's back. Her arms were around his armored neck and her hands fired up at the sight of the Alliance, a wicked grin curling up on her lips.

The orc Valamunre had flung onto looked over his shoulder in confusion at the elf, his running slowing down. Valamunre glared down at him, her lips snarling. "Keep going, you brute! You think I like being on you? I just need a ride down there!" Valamunre hollered in his ear, the orc picking up his pace again, the axe in his hands ready to slice.

As soon as they had made it to the docks, the orc rushed into battle, another soldier protecting his back. Valamunre snickered; she was protected all around. She watched as the orc slammed down into a human, clicking right into his head, but not enough to kill him just yet. Valamunre began muttering and moving her lips, pointing her elegant fingers at the enemies, shots of eerie black and purple shooting straight into them. The human screamed, dropping his weapon as his hands began to trace his body, trying to find the source of his pain. The orc took advantage of this and sliced the man's head clean off, it rolling off the dock and into the water.

Valamunre turned half her body around, helping the Troll behind her with his little pest. She grinned as she finished up her cursing sentence, using one hand to entice fear into the Dwarf. The woman began to frantically scream, her hands flying to her head, dropping to her knees in fright. Tears streamed down her face, her greatest phobias flashing through her head. The Troll didn't hesitate at all to smash her into pieces.

Just as Valamunre was turning back around, a Night Elf had his sword raised to the head of the orc who was carrying her. His eyes weren't on the orc, though, they were pinned down on the warlock herself. Before the sword could rush down and strike her dead, Valamunre let her arms and legs slip, falling free from the orc, her feet landing on the wood of the dock.

She knelt down, peeking inbetween the orc's legs, he still standing. It looked as if he had blocked the blade just in time, catching the Night Elf off guard as he searched for Valamunre. She kept her sigh in, a mighty scowl crossing her features. She glanced around, watching as Zhaagrom raced away from her toward a Draenei, winning the fight against a different orc.

"Damn you, you little bastard..." Valamunre hissed, crawling out from between the Troll and orc, making sure not to attract the attention of the Night Elf yet again.

Valamunre rushed to a group of soldiers, all huddled together in a circle, protecting each other's back as they fought off the Alliance together. She ducked, crawling between all their legs and stood up, right in the middle of them all. She spotted Zhaagrom, biting deep into the Draenei that was overpowering the warrior. Valamunre shook her head, finding a little cranny big enough for her to cast her spells.

Curses flew out of her mouth like lightning, the agony soon finding its new location. The Draenei let out a scream, his body coming off of the orc and searching for who was responsible. Valamunre continued her shadow magic, a funnel of charcoal and violet light streaming from her to the man, wounding him as much as possible. He began flinching, the shadows pinching at him in every part of his body, injuring him from the inside out.

With a grin, Valamunre was about to drain the last of his life, Zhaagrom still torturing the Draenei's leg, until she realized the group that she had surrounded herself in, separated. Only three of the five soldiers remained, Valamunre now having to watch her own back. She glared, the Draenei finally spotting her, limping toward her with a fierce determination. Behind her, was a Worgen, the mangy mutt on all fours, ready to pounce on top of her.

In a matter of seconds, the Worgen had leapt, claws out and teeth bared, truly rabid. The Draenei had charged at her, lifting his weapon up with all the strength he could muster. Valamunre did what she was very good at. Ducking.

Rosey curls were in the air, Valamunre's hair flying fast as she hit the ground again, nearly dodging the dog and the blue alien. All but a few claws missed her, the back paw of the Worgen hitting her neck, causing a few scratches. Valamunre watched as the Worgen mauled his own friend, killing the Draenei off for her. The dreadful face he wore, realizing what he had just done, would have broken her heart if she ever cared at all.

Valamunre couldn't help but snicker, picking herself up and dusting her robes off. She ran from soldier to soldier, all until she was with the orc who was once overpowered.

"I help you, now you help me." Valamunre hissed at him, Zhaagrom now standing beside her, the demon watching for any Alliance.

The sun beat down on Theramore...or what was left of it. Orcs and Trolls alike milled about the ruins of the city, looking for survivors and what ever else that they might have found useful for their endeavors. Standing on a crumbled tower near the ruined wall of the city, was a Paladin clanned in red armor, a plated cowl thrown over his face and head to only reveal two shimmering jade green eyes. A red symbol of the Blood Knights was printed clearly on his chest piece, his hand fiddling with something that was around his neck.

It was a necklace of a Phoenix, it's wings spread in flight, it was one of two remaining of which was in the hands of another. The man's name was Kal'tharon Dawnshadow, one of the few remaining of his family after the mysterious slaughter that involved his younger sister, Krystala. He sighed, memories of when the two were children sitting by the lake skipping stones flashed in his mind, which he quickly shook away "I need to focus..." he thought to himself.

Letting out another sigh, he slipped the necklace away and adjusted his armor before making his way back down to the ruins below. He had watched the Mana Bomb go off from a distance on a ship; part of him thought the sight was rather beautiful....if it weren't for the fact that the sight was actually capable of wiping out a whole army in mere moments, let alone seconds. Either way, he thought it would be best not go near the crater that was left from the explosion, for some reason just standing near it gave hims chills running up and down his he stayed far from it.

It was only when he was about to look for a place to try and get some shut eye that the sound of an alarm rang in his ears. Alliance forces spotted! All hands to the harbor! Hold the line!" The sound of the alarm brought a small amused smile to Kal's face "Really now? The Alliance decided to come take some vengeance? Well we can fix that..." he chuckled, making his way to the harbor.


Kal had found a nice large rock to sit on while he waited for the Alliance troops to come, his head in his hand and his shoulder resting on a propped up knee. He grew bored of waiting for the Alliance to arrive rather more quickly than he expected, he guessed he just didn't really feel like there would be much of a challenge. It was when the Alliance finally arrived that the Paladin let out what seemed to be a sigh of relief "Well...any longer and I would have just gone and taken my nap....but oh well".

Slowly, he drew his sword from it's red sheath, the golden elementium katana glinting in the sunlight. Runes etched into the blade would shimmer faintly as he raised his hand over it, muttering a few words of power, his fingers crackled with holy energy which then sunk into the blade. The runes suddenly burst into light, the length of the blade coating itself in holy flame. Kal waited for the Alliance to get close enough, waiting for them to make their first mistake.

When they were in range, Kal stood up and leaped off the bolder, the blade held high in his hands before he drove it straight into the hard earth. He sent holy flame racing through the ground around him, burning a few Alliance soldiers around him, getting their attention. Two human soldiers ran towards him, blades raised high. Pulling the body length katana from the soil, he waited for them to get close. It was only when they were close enough that Kal twirled, using one hand and the length of his blade to knock the swords away with his own.

He didn't stop there though, still using his momentum, he would have taken his left hand and struck it hard into one of the soldier's stomachs. Holy light crackled around his hand and wrist "Excrosisim!" he would shout, blasting the man with a holy flame bolt. While the first soldier staggered, he turned to deal with the other man, who recovered from the strike quickly and was bringing his sword to try and stab Kal in the chest. The paladin side stepped quickly, the blade scratching his chest piece. Kal quickly took the mans arm with his left hand and lower it so he could drive his knee into his elbow and break it; the man screamed, staggering back and holding his arm.

His friend had recovered, running over to assist his ally, but Kal gave him no chance. He spun again, parrying the blade and kicking him back with a plated boot before swipping his flaming blade at his knee. He was satisfied when he sword blood drawn and the soldier falling to one leg. He quickly then turned to deal with the other soldier, granting him a swift death by swiping his katana at the man's exposed neck, sending blood flying and painting the rock that Kal had been sitting on. With that man down, he turned just in time to see the other man throw his sword at him, aiming for his head.


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