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tiberiumlord

Godlike Posts: 1103 Joined: 06 Jul 2007 27719 gold

The Unending War

Posted: Fri Apr 18, 2008 4:43 am

"Another day in the battlefield, another glorious loss," Davion the Dragon Knight thought.

In the dark Ashenvale forests of Kalimdor, the Scourge had endlessly terrorized the land for years, most likely to destroy the sign of the Sentinel's power in the land: Nordrassil, the world tree.

Earlier that day, another skirmish between the Scourge and Sentinel had gone badly, again. Davion and his best friend Purist were leading a small force of footmen and archers, when out of nowhere, ghouls, spider-like crypt fiends, and abominations poured out of the woods like water. It had nearly claimed everybody's life. The archers were quickly killed off by a quick volley of insects from the crypt fiends, and the abominations and their enfeebling disease clouds cut down the footmen.

With only the 2 friends and a few footmen left, the group started fighting, but the whole group was picked off until only Davion and Purist remained. Surrounded by undead, Purist and Davion were barely able to escape after he used his most powerful technique, calling upon the light to protect them. Now nearly invulnerable, both of them had no choice but to break the circle and run back to camp.

As both of them wearily stumbled back, the cheerful brewmaster Mangix greeted them.

"Looks like the undead got you picked off, eh?"

"Yes, their numbers are unending everyday," Purist could only reply in exasperation.

The three of them went over to the foodhouse, which was run by Darchrow, a plump yet merry and skilled chef. Shouting over all the steam and fire from cooking ranges, he told the cooks to bring the tired pair of fighters the best pork they could cook and an assortment of vegetables before he sat down for a drink from Mangix's barrel with them.

"Don't look so depressed, you still have your best friends here."

"Heh, that's what you've been saying to every single fighter every damned time they've been able to survive a fight they lost... more ale?"

Purist refused the request, and replied,"The undead grow greater the more they kill, we MUST end this somehow, not even my powers of the light are enough to hold off an army. The situation is getting worse, and we can't draft more people to fight such a hopeless war! What should we do," he almost yelped.

Davion reached out with a heavy hand and put it on his shoulder,"All we can do is keep on fighting, and pray to our elders."

"Hey look, it's a shooting star, we can wish for better luck in a war like this," Darchrow said.

"Then wish on it, and let us be on our merry way," Mangix said, his clothes stained brown from the copious amounts of ale he was drinking.

That night, the wish came true.
That night, the tables would turn.
That night, the unexpected would happen.
That night, the shooting star Darchrow wished on came shooting down and crashed right in the middle of the encampment, leaving a smoking black crater.

Darchrow woke with a start, quickly putting on his clothes and taking a meat cleaver for protection, he inspected the source of the crashing sound.

"By the gods, it's a star," he exclaimed.

He then didn't know what to do, so he tapped it with his cleaver. There was a strange hissing noise, and the star split in half, and inside it, there was a small blue mass. It seemed to act of its own accord, and when it "saw" Darchrow, it suddenly jumped at him and latched onto his hand.

"Goddammit, I've already had enough trouble."

He tried to grab the stuff off, but it was no use. It seemed that the mass was slowly consuming him, as it now enveloped his hand like a transparent, blue liquid, and it still progressed to consume him.

"HELP!, I SAID HELP ME," Darchrow screamed.

When Davion heard this call and had Mangix and Purist running behind him, it was too late. The strange mass had enveloped the chef, and he was struggling in his death throes under the mass. All of them tried to cut and pull off some of the mass, but to no avail, they failed.

"Darchrow, DARCHROW," Purist cried. "Hang in there!" It was too late however, the popular chef had succumbed and died, and Purist silently wept over his friend.

The next day, everyone in the camp noticed the mass, except now it had gotten thicker, taken the shape of an archmage's water elemental, and had a skull where a face should be.

Sorry guys, kinda late over in my place and its time for me to stop, gonna see if I can continue this story. Wink

Now to continue...

The powerful Druid Furion sat by the blue mass. He had spent the night analyzing the body.

"He's not dead."

"What," Purist replied in disbelief.

"This is merely a power source from the cosmos. Right now it is adujusting to his body and granting powers to it, but when he wakes up again, he'll find that his physical appearance has been altered. With that settled, we need to get back to the manner of war."

"*Hic* Then what-*hic* is our next assign-*hic," Mangix was barely able to say. The night's drinking was getting to his head.

"There's a graveyard hidden in this forest here, and the huntresses' owls have noted that shades were sent yesterday to examine the grave. A source of demonic power is there, and we must stop the undead at all costs, otherwise, the war is over..."

"Little ch-*hic* of success, a *hic* good ba- *hic* to fight!"

Within two hours time, Purist was leading a force of more footmen and had some elven archers and druids on his side now. Davion and Mangix were going to go to the graveyard from the other side, so if the undead happened to be there first, there was no way they would be able to run. As Purist and his army neared the grave, they sighted exactly what they feared, the undead had beaten them to the grave, but there was one problem. The only undead present were 4 ghouls. Suddenly baring their teeth at them they charged the army head on.

"Well, this is going to be easy," A footman said.

"Make that, too easy," A druid replied.

But their frivolous attitudes had gone too far. As soon as the druid made his statement, a green fog enveloped the army and started to eat away at their flesh.

"This is no ordinary fog, it's poison," Purist roared. "Sound the retreat horn, something is in there to kill us!"

On the other side of the woods, Mangix tripped for the umpteenth time.

"Dammit all Mangix, you shouldn't have downed that one barrel of ale last night," Davion groused.

But the Brewmaster was paying no attention. In the treetops, something had been watching them, but it suddenly disappeared.

"We're *hic* not al-*hic*"

"That drinking has got its effects on y-"

Davion had no time to finish what he was saying, as something invisible rammed into both heroes and sent them crashing into a nearby tree. Something was out there to kill them. Shaking off the pain, Davion looked around, praying that his dragon elders and dragon blood would protect him.

Back at the graveyard, Purist's army was in total chaos. Two servants of the undead were killing off soldiers like wheat to a scythe. Not to mention, the poisonous fog was taking its toll on the unlucky soldiers who ended up with their faces melted off. Then from time to time there would come a yellowish fog that melted unfortunated soldiers alive in their armor.

"Keep your head low! Do not breathe in the fog," Purist shouted. "Whatever is going to come through us in that mist, you shall stand your ground and fight for Kalimdor, Lordaeron, and humanity! Today is not the day when the living shall fall!"

Something in the fog growled, and it was hungry. Some of the soldiers shifted uncomfortably, and others complained how the fog still hurt. But now was not the time, for two shadowy figures came from both sides. One was a massive abomination. It bore a massive hook and a cleaver, but it cuddled the hook like a young child would its doll.

"Pudge... must... feed," he complained.

Throwing his hook out, an unlucky druid was hooked and brought to Pudge's side and quickly consumed. With an insane smile, the abomination said,"Happy entrails!" Charging in with his mysterious partner, Purist was up for a big fight.

God, pretty late over here... YAWWWWNNN Dreaming

Here we go after a long time, let's do this!

Darchrow's head felt heavy.

"Where am I," he thought. Opening his eyes, he expected to see his kitchen, but it was not so. In front of him were the 7 holy figures, 2 of them currently on earth in the form of Chen and Purist.

One of the figures spoke,"You have been chosen Darchrow! You will be the chosen one of the mortals, and you will fight for them!" "This task is too great, I'm not worthy," Darchrow cried.

"It seems so, but last night, we enchanted you with the power of the cosmos. Wake, and your strength is amplified. Wake, and your form is changed. Abuse the power, and you will be destroyed on the spot."

"Why don't you just use your heavenly powers to destroy all evil in the world then?"

"It is not our place to do that, do not touch on this topic, for it is forbidden to talk of that. Now go, be in peace."

Darchrow woke up in a world of darkness.

Davion looked around. Anub'seran the Nerubian Weaver couldn't have risen again. He clearly remembered how he had stabbed the spider, methodically cut it apart, and burned the corpse with his dragon breath after a battle on Suramar. The invisible force hit him again, sending him crashing to the ground, and to add to the situation, Mangix had suddenly disappeared. Carefully walking around the forest, Davion looked for his friend, but the invisible force smashed into him one more time, sending him flying into the trees again. Mangix then came out of the bushes to save his friends, more shaken as he lost his had and had leaves strewn over his blood streaked face.

"That invisible force... look over there..."

With the invisible force gone, the friends looked over, and there stood a grayish-white tauren. He held a smoking lantern in one hand and a large axe in the other, apparently the cause of the gash on Mangix's face.

"Your spirit has been broken, Barathrum shall commence," he said in an expressionless voice. "You have been too slow to react to my charge of darkness. Now... die."

Pudge was wiping out the army like a pig in a bucket of acorns. The yellowish-fog he emitted almost always melted whoever got near him and he ate a soldier whenever he could. His mysterious partner, to everyone's amazement, was a creature that Pudge claimed to have come from a different dimension.
_________________

This guy comes at night to eat your feet.

Last edited by tiberiumlord on Tue Apr 29, 2008 3:59 am; edited 2 times in total