A Deadly Game
The rich oaky smell of the fire permeated the sandy blood soaked coast. Plumes of black smoke curled and danced their way through the thick, hazy air as if excited to be free from the suffocating tree. Long after the now blazing fire would be extinguished, the smoky smell would linger in the leather of her armor, in her hair, and in the fur of her companion. It would hang heavily in the air ready to greet whoever happened to brave the ruins for years to come; like the over abundant use of flint and steel mixed with the coppery twinge of iron rich blood; an all too familiar smell for the Ranger. Her gaze scanned over the shore looking for any remnants of life; both of her battalion and those who would oppose them. The clouds began to gently dust them with a soft snowing of ash from the world tree and the cremains of those who would stand against them. Bits of ash clung to her lashes, causing her to continuously wipe them away when they began hindering her vision. Every once in a while she would flinch as a warm flake landed on her cheek; momentarily burning it. Her nostrils flared as they caught the sickening sweet whisper of sea and decay. The rays of sun fought for their rightful position through the haze of hatred and narcissism and had begun leaving their mark on the unnamed corpses who lay abandoned there; no one would be able to walk through the forest without retching deep from within their boots in just a few days.
The Ranger’s comm hummed and buzzed with orders being demanded and positions being broadcast. The low reverberation coming from others whom carried their comm’s close at hand. This was the beginnings of war. A war in which she did not fully understand the ramifications, though she knew there would be many, and a war in which so many lives had been snatched by death’s cold and unforgiving hand in such a short period of time.
The hairs on the back of her neck stiffened and her ears twitched as goosebumps marred her smooth skin. Even though she was sweating under her armor, she shivered once from the disturbing song of screams that the waves carried from Teldrassil. She nonchalantly shrugged it off, cracking her neck from side to side before reaching down to pluck a spent arrow from the intercostal space of a Magi who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. The Ranger robotically slung it over her head and into the quiver that rested on her back. For a brief moment a glimpse of the simple Sin’dorei came out in her thoughts with an innocent “I’ll have to clean my quiver of all this blood”.
She was trained to kill and she was damn good at it. She rose through the ranks and earned every color on her uniform. She encased her heart and her feelings in solid ice and because of that, she could kill in cold blood when need be. She was the definition of a warrior and a model soldier, though much harder now than under Thrall’s reign. She was one of the numerous Battalion commanders who gave the order to “FIRE!” and sentence the inhabitants of Teldrassil to death. This was a deadly game the Boy King and the Banshee Queen were playing and it was her duty to help lead her people to victory. She was sworn to do so.
She made her way down the beach, harvesting arrows as if she were in a field of wheat. “This is only the beginning.” …. “One victory for the mighty Horde.”…. Those thoughts entered her mind like a silver tongued snake; a personal morale booster some might call it. Her boots sank into the sand as she made her way towards the gathering of red banners; a debriefing no doubt.
“ONWARD TO LORDAERON! THE UNDERCITY IS UNDER ATTACK!”
The bellowing call from her Orc Superior was enough to flip some sort of switch and to cause her to snarl. The Boy King was swiftly moving to take the upper hand they had just gained and she’d be damned if she stood idly by. That was too close to Silvermoon, too close to home. The Boy King would soon find out what price his people would pay for their arrogance. She turned to look over her shoulder at those who were coming up behind her and shoved two fingers between her lips, letting out a high pitched whistle that seemed to get the attention of those just out of earshot. She waved her hand high and motioned towards her.
“TO LORDAERON! FOR THE HORDE!”
