#covie

After their emotional exchange, Covie politely suggested that Thaelea leave. The Elf was reluctant to go, but she did all the same. There was nothing more she could get from Covie tonight. But as she turned from the woman, she already began to simmer with rage. An idea had taken root in her mind. Svarr had to pay. This was all his fault. His teachings, his rituals, his damned visions. At no point did Covie even suggest a connection, but so desperate was Thaelea to explain what had just happened, her mind latched onto the only thing that made sense. A wretched barbarian had manipulated Covie into doing something horrible. This could not stand. 

Walking through the woods of Tol Barad, Lea’s blood boiled. A trail of dead animals, mostly stags, deer, and assorted small creatures, but no cats, of course. The poor things looked shriveled and lifeless. Thaelea had been draining their life essence right out of them. In her rage, she did to each of these things what she wanted to do to Svarr. Even a few stray demons, escaped from the prisons below, were drained of their essence and left to rot. Any living thing larger than an insect that had the misfortune of crossing the woman’s path at that time was felled by her magic. This proved most unfortunate to a particular group of Orcs. 

Tol Barad had largely been abandoned by the Alliance and Horde. No longer of strategic significance, the island was vulnerable to raiding parties, from both sides. One such raiding party, Orcish outriders, stumbled across Thaelea as she wandered down the main road. What easy prey she must have seemed. A singular Elf, alone on the road, with no apparent means of defense. They must have thought themselves fortunate. They were not. Thaelea was a woman easily underestimated. She herself said frequently that she was no fighter, and she wasn’t. But she didn’t need to be. 

The leader of the Orcs approached her, shouting something in Orcish. The language was familiar to Thaelea, thanks to her time with the Horde, but she paid him no heed. He shouted again, dismounting from his riding wolf and placing himself in Thaelea’s path. Only now did the Elf acknowledge this brute’s existence. The green-skinned beast smiled at her, flashing large, rotting tusks. Lea just stared back with half-lidded eyes. There was no expression on her face. She was totally blank. It didn’t seem to trouble the Orc, any. He reached for the axe he kept on his back, preparing to cut down the Elf without a second thought. 

When the Orc reached for his weapon, Thaelea immediately began muttering something. It was...demonic? The Orcs took it for gibberish and ignored it. That was a mistake, for they failed to realize that a portal in reality had ripped open behind them. They also failed to realize the twelve-foot Wrathguard that stepped out of the portal, summoned to Azeroth by his mistress. The Orcish leader seemed poised to strike Thaelea, but was interrupted by the frenzied howl of one of his comrades. The other Orcs turned back to see Khillikad holding the rear-most Orc up by his head. The remaining two Orcs readied themselves for a proper fight, though not soon enough to save their comrade. The massive demon crushed the Orc’s skull in his grasp.

Two of the three remaining Orcs howled in rage at the loss of their friend, charging forward without a moment’s hesitation. Had they been a bit more caution, they might have noticed two more portals opening. A pair of felhounds lunged at the Orcs from the flank. They missed the first entirely, but successfully tore the rightmost Orc off his wolf. The felled Orc roared, intent to fight on, but he was lost as soon as the hounds had him. The creatures had no eyes, but a sense of smell that almost equated to vision. Their powerful jaws and jagged teeth snapped repeatedly at the Orc, biting, slashing, gnarling his forearms as he frantically tried to block. In the end, one of the felhounds scored a fortunate strike to the Orc’s throat. The strike, and the following rapid loss of blood, stopped all resistance. The demons devoured the Orc while he was still partially alive, but powerless to save himself.

Meanwhile, the Orc that had avoided the hounds went straight for Khillikad. The demon swung its massive axe. While the Orc managed to dodge, the wolf beneath her was split in two. Thrown from the beast, she recovered quickly and made another run at the titanic demon. Khillikad, for all his strength, was not invincible. But to most races of Azeroth, he’d be close to it. To an Orc, who favored frontal attacks that emphasized strength and ferocity, Khillikad was a near undefeatable foe. The Orc could not hope to overpower the demon, nor would her axe, small compared to the demon’s, have a chance at inflicting deep enough wounds. Yet, she charged all the same. For a fleeting moment, the Orc seemed as if she had gotten through, that she could slay the demon. This hope was dashed when the beast whirled around, striking the Orc with its spiked tail and knocking her into a tree. Khillikad did not even get close to her to finish the woman off. He hurled his axe towards her, imbedding it deep into the tree, as well as splitting the Orc’s skull from jaw to scalp. 

Now, only the ring leader remained. With the arrival of Lea’s demonic defenders, he had forgotten the Elf, focusing his attention on the savage creatures. But Lea had not forgotten him. With his attention focused elsewhere, she raised her hand and touched her palm to his back. An eerie, green glow enveloped him; his life essence was being ripped out. It didn’t take long to incapacitate the Orc. By the time he realized what was happening, it was already too late. He fell to his knees, then onto his side. His once impressive physique began to dwindle. Thaelea stepped around him, approaching the Orc’s face, and crouching down beside him. “Shh.” She says, just above a whisper. “You cannot die so long as your soul endures.” The woman spoke in Thalassian, while the Orc likely did not speak. “You’re a barbarian, like him.” She continued. “You look different, you fight for different things, but you’re just like him. You have your own ideas of honor, would infect others with your vile ideology, turn good women against their families…” The Elf’s hand fell to the Orc’s exposed chest, gently pressing her palm to him as the creature struggled to breathe. “You’ll never harm anyone ever again.” Her hand began to glow a pink-violet. The Orc, already weak, struggled, in vain, to move away from her hand, but it was no use. “And when I’m done with him, neither will he.” Lea pulls her hand away from the Orc slowly, tendrils of energy stretching between the two. It’s clear the Orc is suffering as he writhes. But a moment later, the energy stream stops, all light centering around Lea’s hand. The Orc? Motionless. No movement, no breathing. In the Elf’s hand was a gem, pink-violet in color.