Ancient Threats

Biara crouched down low, clinging to the crumbling bits of broken wall that had tumbled into the small space between a rocky outcropping and what was left of an ancient structure of the Amani Empire. Beside her, two Farstriders knelt on the ground, their faces tight with tension and stress. Both had their bows strung, arrows fitted to strings but not pulled back. Silence reigned in the little space afforded to them, but even their breathing sounded like thunder in Biara's ears, she wished she could shrink down into the very rock itself.

Their party had been ambushed only a few minutes before while traversing the broken pieces of ancient troll architecture within the Ghostlands. Dispatched to check on rumors of gathering Amani warbands, the Farstriders had requested the aid of a Magister in the event that magic would be needed in the endeavor, and Biara had volunteered to assist with the outting. None of them knew just how many Amani had gathered amongst the ruins of their once formidible empire; they were a constantly regenerating threat in the heart of Quel'Thalas.

After the ambush many of the Sin'dorei had been split up, with Biara and her two companions driven back by superior numbers and forced to take refuge in their current hiding spot. Deeper within the ruined city they could hear the sounds of combat punctuated by screams now and then. The trolls clearly were not done hunting their little expedition and more Sin'dorei blood would be spilled before the day was out.

Biara looked at her two companions, taking in their shaking hands and pale faces. They were both so young; too young to be dispatched on such a dangerous mission. She doubted if either had seen more combat than a simple troll raid before this, and now they were faced with hundreds of trolls deep in some forsaken ruins on the edge of Quel'Thalas. The Magistrix sighed, trying to beat down her own pounding fear, trying to calm her own pulse. She had to reassure them, calm them and let them know it would be alright so that they could fight effectively.

Biara turned and opened her mouth to speak the words that she didn't believe but needed to say, "The others will be alright. We'll regroup with them and fight our way free. You have to believe in that. We WILL prev...."

Her words were cut off instantly as the sound of crude horns echoed all around them. The trolls had tracked them by scent of course. She should have known better! There was nothing to do now but stand and fight, holding the little pile of rubble as best they could until other members of the expedition won free to get help.

"Stand firm! Do not let them overrun our position!" she shouted. "We have to..UGH!"

The spear struck her in the side with the force of a god smiting a mountain. The deadly point failed to penetrate her magical wards, leaving her flesh and clothing unbroken, but the force of the impact picked Biara up from her perch on the stone and hurled her down to the ground a few feet below. Above her hung small ferns and vines that had grown over the rocks, and for a moment all she could do was stare stupidly at them as pain bloomed in her side. Around her the <thwang> of bowstrings releasing told her that the two Farstriders were doing their best to stop the assault, but by the sound of the roared battlecries the Magistrix knew how badly outnumbered they were.</thwang>

I have to get up. I have to help them NOW. She mentally counted each <thwang> and the grunts of pain as the Farstriders shot, desperately trying to force her body to respond. Three shots. Four. Six. And then the cries and the sound of steel on steel as the trolls reached their position. A heavy weight landed on top of Biara as a cry of mortal agony sounded from the rocks above her.</thwang>

"Whadda we got here den?" a voice hissed. Above her loomed the form of a massive Amani troll, his tribal markings cruelly scoring his face, making his visage all the more fearsome. "I be thinkin' it be a snack." The troll opened its fanged mouth, saliva dripping on the ground next to Biara's hair. She grimanced and brought her hand up, the wand she had snatched from her belt triggering as she jammed it in the troll's face. The creature flew back, falling headless amongst the boulders around her.

"There be anotha one!" a voice shouted. It was echoed by a half dozen warcries and the sounds of bodies scrambling over broken stone could be heard. More shapes dropped down amongst the boulder, surrounding Biara as she lay prone. Her labored breathing hinted at the possibility of a broken rib, and the pain in her side flared with every movement; she couldn't afford to lay still though.

I'm so tired. The realization struck her like a blow. She wasn't just physically tired and injured, she was mortally tired of all of this. Of fighting and bleeding. Of seeing Sin'dorei fall only to watch the foes of her people multiply and gain strength. Of knowing that their beloved Quel'Thalas was an echo of what it once was. In that moment in time, she wanted nothing more than to close her eyes and just forget about it all. To let them butcher her, so she could finally rest. It would be only a moment of pain, a single second of feeling and then there would be no more fighting, no more bloodshed forever. Her will to carry on wavered as another wave of agony washed through her.

The leering faces of trolls appeared over her. The pain in her side faded as a new burning sensation filled Biara's mind. The pain was centered in the center of her forehead, almost between her eyes. It was the burning power of the Fel talisman she had created. Unimaginable power beckoning to her as the demonic essence trapped within it tried to save itself from destruction. It was life.

As the trolls reached down to grab her, the circlet flashed and turned cherry red. The smell of brimstone filled the clearing as Biara drew on the power contained within the aritfact. For the briefest of moments, two perfect horns graced her head and her eyes smoldered like flame.

She spoke a single phrase, her words in both demonic and Thalassian, "Xi'adare. Adare BELORE!"

The Flamestrike that erupted in the tiny enclosed space illuminated half of the ruins of the troll city for a brief moment, as if the sun had dawned new in a clear sky. The rumbling echo of the blast could be heard for miles, and combat faltered throughout the ruins as the trolls pulled back to gather their shaman, not wishing to do battle with such magic without their own powers to counter it. The remaining Sin'dorei in the expedition slowly regrouped and pulled back, searching for survivors as they had a fighting withdrawal with those enemies that hadn't pulled back.

As two of the Farstriders with the expedition retreated, they happened upon a scorched patch of blackened earth. In the center, sleeping peacefully lay Biara Dayfire. Around her the very rock had melted and flowed into bizzare shapes, the bodies of her enemies incinerated to nothing more than a few chips of darkened bone. The two Farstriders gave each other concerned looks before moving foward and gently picking the Magistrix up, bearing her from the ruins.

If the two noticed the smell of brimstone on the Sin'dorei, or the feel of Fel magic that they could sense even from touching her, they wisely kept their mouths shut about it.