The battle for Azeroth had begun. Setting aside their differences, the Horde had joined the Alliance to fight a greater threat that would destroy the world. The Burning Legion and the Scourge were making their way up to the Well of Eternity bent on corrupting its magical waters. If successful, Azeroth would be ruined.
The races of Azeroth made their final stand at Mt. Hyjal, the location of Nordrassil and the Well. The army assembled there were to keep the demons and undead at bay while the night elf druids led by Malfurion could harness the mighty power of the World Tree. The vile creatures of the Legion and Scourge significantly outnumbered them and they did not tire nor sleep. Because of this, the soldiers of the Alliance grew weary from the constant fighting but held fast, desperation and determination fueling their strength.
“The Scourge has broken through the first line,” a young elf scout reported in, riding a mighty nightsaber.
Commander Aramus knew before the scout had told him. From his vantage point, he could see the wave of Scourge sundering and demolishing the line of orc and human warriors. As the undead swept over the first line, the plague blanketed the bodies, darkening the battlefield. If this battle were lost, those valiant men and orcs would rise again, mindlessly serving their Burning Legion masters.
Aramus turned his head to the side and sighed as he observed the lines of night elves, his brothers and sisters waiting their turn to face an enemy against impossible odds. The first line was comprised of great warriors and rogues, ready to charge into the fray. Behind them were hundreds of elven hunters with their dangerous bows and fearsome pets.
Aramus barely had time to send the word to his lieutenants to sound the charge before he could smell the stench of rot. The undead had arrived.
The archers struck first. Raising their mighty bows, the hunters fired off their arrows, covering the skies with a rain of death. Pierced by the wicked volley, the undead infantry fell in droves, but the wall of arrows could not stop the tidal wave. With a roar, the elven infantry charged to meet the onslaught. The two waves crashed, metal tearing into flesh and the brown earth became drenched in scarlet. The sheer number of undead buckled the lines but the elves held their ground. Aramus knew it wouldn’t hold forever. At least one hunter among the archers thought the same.
The line will not hold. Aramus will send us in. There is no other choice.
The words rang clear inside Belion’s mind, just as if someone right next to him had whispered in his ear. And in a manner of speaking, someone did.
He ran his fingers along the neck of the great moonstalker cat sitting beside him. Unable to fire more arrows fearing he might hit his comrades, Belion waited like the other hunters for the orders to charge. Till then, they watched.
“I believe you are right, Naya.” Belion glanced over to Aramus, who was preparing to sound the second charge as he unsheathed his own greatsword. Belion looked down upon his cat and smiled fondly. “This may be our last great adventure.”
It has been an honor to travel with you.
Swinging his greatsword in a large arc and raising it high into the sky, causing the sun’s rays to reflect upon the blade, Aramus yelled out as he ran to join the battle, “May Elune protect us!” The army roared in response, the voices of the elves thundering across the battlefield.
Right behind Aramus were the hunters, revealing their twin blades. Great cats, bears, wolves and beasts of all shapes and sizes roared, howled or screeched as they attacked with their masters. The buckling line of elf warriors suddenly stiffened as the wave of hunters filled the gaps.
Belion’s first victim was an undead rogue. Naya had distracted the unfortunate creature by clamping down her jaws into its leg, crushing bone and tearing flesh. Before he knew what was happening, Belion had skewered the rogue through with his twin blades. Once the rogue went down, the pair moved to their next target.
I hate biting into undead. They have such a disgusting after taste.
The last remark made Belion smirk, distracting him. As a result he almost failed to parry a large axe that came swinging for his throat. Another parry gave him room to slash the opponent across the chest. The undead warrior crumpled to the ground and Naya finished the kill.
“Focus on what is at hand, Naya,” Belion yelled out to his companion while dodging another blade that came dangerously close to his ribs. “That undead almost took my head!”
Typical male. Can’t concentrate on more than one thing at a time.
Sighing in resignation after hearing Naya’s thoughts, Belion spun around cutting deep into the back of his undead foe. His opponent managed to slash his arm but Belion’s leather armor caused the jagged blade to glance off. Again, like before, Naya joined the fight by pouncing on the unsuspecting undead and clamping her vicious jaws around its neck. A sickening crunch signaled the end of the undead warrior.
The fighting continued and even with the hunters joining the ranks, the sheer number of undead pushed the line back. With Naya by his side, Belion did all he could, but soon his arms and chest were littered with small gashes. Coupled with the blood loss and weariness, Belion was hamstrung by another undead warrior. Falling hard onto the ground, he looked up to see the warrior standing over him poised to stab him through the heart with its blade. The vile unnatural creature salivated heavily at the thought of making another killing.
Naya saw her master fall but another undead rogue prevented her from aiding him. She watched in horror, roaring as the sword went up.
Unexpected aid came in the form of another moonstalker. The second cat slammed hard into the warrior standing over Belion, knocking the undead creature on the ground. Unprepared, the warrior put up little fight as the great cat clawed deep gashes into its torso.
“You alright, Hunter?” a voice asked from behind as Belion got up.
Turning around, he saw a female hunter crouched down with a pair of daggers in her hands. Finished with his kill, the moonstalker who rescued Belion joined the humble pair. Naya joined the bunch after disposing of her own opponent.
“Yes, thank you…” Before Belion could say more, they were forced into battle again.
Belion’s arms grew heavy as his body began to rebel against his mind. He swung his arms if only to keep the motion. It seemed hopeless. The races of the Alliance were flesh and blood and no matter how hard they tried, living flesh had its limits. The undead and demons had no such weakness. By simple attrition, the Burning Legion and Scourge were winning.
And then the miracle happened. A bright flash of light erupted from the peak of Mt. Hyjal. Malfurion had finally unleashed the power of the World Tree. A wash of pure white light spread from the top of the mountain. Lashing out in all directions, the blinding light consumed the raging battlefield. Those few Alliance fighters who had strength cheered as the light crashed into the undead. The others, who had no more strength, fell to the ground exhausted but filled with relief.
The undead and demons tried to flee but the wave of light moved too fast and consumed them. The undead that made contact with the light instantly turned to dust and the demons burst into agonizing flame, their cries of pain drowning in the raging fire.
So in one act, the armies of the united races of Azeroth had claimed victory.
Belion sat down next to Naya, stroking the fur on her back. He watched as the soft wind scattered the ashes of his foes. The other female hunter sat next to him with her own pet.
“I’m Belion,” he said to the violet haired huntress then pointed to his cat, “and this is Naya.”
“And I am Elynna,” the female hunter answered, “and my traveling companion is Vassar.” Vassar growled a little as if to say hello.
He’s cute. The female is attractive too I suppose.
Naya’s thoughts entered Belion’s mind again. He chuckled. Knee deep in undead ichor and filth, she could still manage to crack a joke.
