((Based on rather romanticized true events. :) ))
With a creak and a loud crash, the catapult's arm lunged upward, launching a leaking canister of plague through the air. The metal canister spun end over end, flashing in the dim light of the sun as it peeked between the snow laden clouds of the north. Beneath it, the stiff cold wind of Northrend made the pennants on the alliance catapult snap, their blue and gold colors standing out against the dull grey-white of the snow around them. Halfway through it's flight, the canister was met in midair by a shimmering bolt of icy cold magic that shattered it and sent a toxic cloud of green plague gas down to the ground, narrowly missing Flamewatch Tower.
The green gas hissed as it contacted the snow, melting away the first few inches of the compact substance. The bodies of fallen orcs that lay in the snow were also touched by the gas, the deadly chemicals eating away at the exposed flesh of the fallen, leaving suits of armor with skeletons inside them. The catapult, a gnomish device designed to hurl the sinister canisters at enemy fortifications, screeched as it's driver put the gears in reverse and tried to quickly back away to bring its flame cannon to bear.
Biara stalked it through the cloud of snow that its wheels had kicked up, her face a mask of anger. All around Flamewatch tower were fallen orcs. Orcs she had sent as part of her Blackhearts company to defend the area. The alliance had slaughtered them wholesale, and worse, they were using the very kinds of weapons they claimed to hate. Behind her, a demolisher lay on its side, smoke pouring from it as its wheels spun lazily in mid-air. Her spells had already shattered the war machine, and its fires added to the blaze as the damaged tower behind her burned. It still stood, but barely, and she had arrived only in the knick of time to stop its total destruction.
Before another moment had passed, Biara's hands came up and she shouted. A bolt of pure frozen ice hurlted from her outstretched hand, striking the moving catapult right in the mechanism designed to deliver its payload to the target. The gnomish machine had a store of the deadly canisters on it, and the ice punctured several of the containers which detonated with a massive explosion. The crew of the vehicle struggled helplessly to escape as the deadly plague cloud settled over the wreckage, eating through flesh and machine alike.
Panting with the excitement of using her battle magic, Biara turned only to gasp in shock as an arrow sprouted from her arm, like a deadly blossom in spring. As a creeping numbness overcame her limb, Biara saw the Kaldorei archer duck back amongst the broken pieces of demolisher, attempting to seek refuge there. She gave the enemy elf no quarter, her magic easily piercing the broken bits of wood between her and her target, and the kaldorei spun and fell in the snow, pierced through the heart with an icy lance of power.
Biara was given little reprieve as a bolt of what looked like moonlight struck her wards and caused them to shimmer. She whirled around to see a human paladin bearing down on her, warcry on his lips as behind him a Kaldorei druid began to cast another spell. She shouted and in an instant she was behind her attackers, causing them to stumble in confusion. With another shouted word, four Biaras suddenly appeared, each hurling deadly ice magic at the duo. The paladin ducked behind his shield, rushing one of the Biaras while the druid stumbled back in agony as several powerful bolts of ice pummeled him. Biara shrieked out her spells, desperate to stop the attackers, to keep them held there until reinforcements could arrive. She knew that preventing them from leading other siege equipment to this spot was the only way to assure that the orcs who had died at the tower did not die in vain.
The druid cast several more bolts of magic, each looking like a shooting star as they struck Biara's mirror images. One of them glanced off her, her wards barely keeping the spell from her flesh. She lashed out, her magic reaching out to strike the druid repeatedly. The Kaldorei stumbled back, shifting into the shape of a large cat and limping away to avoid the spells of the Magistrix. Biara turned just in time to see the human bearing down on her, his hammer raised to strike her.
With a shout, an icy bolt of magic slammed into the paladin. He raised his shield, attempting to absorb the force of the blow with his armor rather than his body. The bolt wrenched the shield from his arm, leaving it bent at an awkward angle, obviously broken. It caused him to stagger, and rather than hitting her with his hammer, he was forced to fling it at her as the painful wound slowed his advance.
The weapon flew through the air, trailing end over end and there was little Biara could do to avoid the glowing holy hammer. She conjured a barrier of icy magic to surround her in an effort to soften the blow, but it did little good as the weapon slammed into the magic and passed through it. A thousand points of glimmering icy flakes shimmer around her as the barrier shattered, and the glowing hammer trailed past her, grazing her temple and spinning her around. She fell into the snow, dazed from the blow and the poisoned arrow she had been struck with earlier.
Above her, the clouds had thickened, and a light snow began to fall. It was almost beautiful to watch, with the stone of Flamewatch tower projecting up into the sky. Upon it, a crimson banner with a black heart in the center flapped in the breeze of the oncoming storm, and for a second, lying in the cold snow, Biara felt a sense of peace in the middle of war. She closed her eyes as her vision swam in and out of focus, hearing the crunch of the human's footsteps in the snow nearby, his curses in common as he tried to make his was over the difficult terrain with the injuries he had sustained.
As her vision began to blacken and unconsciousness threatened to claim her, Biara's sharp hearing picked up the sound of distant horns calling. The victory horns of orcs, ringing across the valley of wintergrasp as her allies captured the fortress there. The human nearby stopped and cursed again, also hearing the noise as another rumbling sound began.
As Biara's vision fixed on the banner of her company far above her on the tower's side, she heard the growing roar of a hundred warcries shouting out in unison. Her allies had come at last, and the Blackhearts who had fallen at the tower's base had given their lives to help ensure the victory. She smiled once before her eyes rolled up into her head and she saw no more.
It would be a few hours later that the half-dead Magistrix was found in the snow, and brought back to the halls of Wintergrasp fortress to have her wounds tended to.
With a creak and a loud crash, the catapult's arm lunged upward, launching a leaking canister of plague through the air. The metal canister spun end over end, flashing in the dim light of the sun as it peeked between the snow laden clouds of the north. Beneath it, the stiff cold wind of Northrend made the pennants on the alliance catapult snap, their blue and gold colors standing out against the dull grey-white of the snow around them. Halfway through it's flight, the canister was met in midair by a shimmering bolt of icy cold magic that shattered it and sent a toxic cloud of green plague gas down to the ground, narrowly missing Flamewatch Tower.
The green gas hissed as it contacted the snow, melting away the first few inches of the compact substance. The bodies of fallen orcs that lay in the snow were also touched by the gas, the deadly chemicals eating away at the exposed flesh of the fallen, leaving suits of armor with skeletons inside them. The catapult, a gnomish device designed to hurl the sinister canisters at enemy fortifications, screeched as it's driver put the gears in reverse and tried to quickly back away to bring its flame cannon to bear.
Biara stalked it through the cloud of snow that its wheels had kicked up, her face a mask of anger. All around Flamewatch tower were fallen orcs. Orcs she had sent as part of her Blackhearts company to defend the area. The alliance had slaughtered them wholesale, and worse, they were using the very kinds of weapons they claimed to hate. Behind her, a demolisher lay on its side, smoke pouring from it as its wheels spun lazily in mid-air. Her spells had already shattered the war machine, and its fires added to the blaze as the damaged tower behind her burned. It still stood, but barely, and she had arrived only in the knick of time to stop its total destruction.
Before another moment had passed, Biara's hands came up and she shouted. A bolt of pure frozen ice hurlted from her outstretched hand, striking the moving catapult right in the mechanism designed to deliver its payload to the target. The gnomish machine had a store of the deadly canisters on it, and the ice punctured several of the containers which detonated with a massive explosion. The crew of the vehicle struggled helplessly to escape as the deadly plague cloud settled over the wreckage, eating through flesh and machine alike.
Panting with the excitement of using her battle magic, Biara turned only to gasp in shock as an arrow sprouted from her arm, like a deadly blossom in spring. As a creeping numbness overcame her limb, Biara saw the Kaldorei archer duck back amongst the broken pieces of demolisher, attempting to seek refuge there. She gave the enemy elf no quarter, her magic easily piercing the broken bits of wood between her and her target, and the kaldorei spun and fell in the snow, pierced through the heart with an icy lance of power.
Biara was given little reprieve as a bolt of what looked like moonlight struck her wards and caused them to shimmer. She whirled around to see a human paladin bearing down on her, warcry on his lips as behind him a Kaldorei druid began to cast another spell. She shouted and in an instant she was behind her attackers, causing them to stumble in confusion. With another shouted word, four Biaras suddenly appeared, each hurling deadly ice magic at the duo. The paladin ducked behind his shield, rushing one of the Biaras while the druid stumbled back in agony as several powerful bolts of ice pummeled him. Biara shrieked out her spells, desperate to stop the attackers, to keep them held there until reinforcements could arrive. She knew that preventing them from leading other siege equipment to this spot was the only way to assure that the orcs who had died at the tower did not die in vain.
The druid cast several more bolts of magic, each looking like a shooting star as they struck Biara's mirror images. One of them glanced off her, her wards barely keeping the spell from her flesh. She lashed out, her magic reaching out to strike the druid repeatedly. The Kaldorei stumbled back, shifting into the shape of a large cat and limping away to avoid the spells of the Magistrix. Biara turned just in time to see the human bearing down on her, his hammer raised to strike her.
With a shout, an icy bolt of magic slammed into the paladin. He raised his shield, attempting to absorb the force of the blow with his armor rather than his body. The bolt wrenched the shield from his arm, leaving it bent at an awkward angle, obviously broken. It caused him to stagger, and rather than hitting her with his hammer, he was forced to fling it at her as the painful wound slowed his advance.
The weapon flew through the air, trailing end over end and there was little Biara could do to avoid the glowing holy hammer. She conjured a barrier of icy magic to surround her in an effort to soften the blow, but it did little good as the weapon slammed into the magic and passed through it. A thousand points of glimmering icy flakes shimmer around her as the barrier shattered, and the glowing hammer trailed past her, grazing her temple and spinning her around. She fell into the snow, dazed from the blow and the poisoned arrow she had been struck with earlier.
Above her, the clouds had thickened, and a light snow began to fall. It was almost beautiful to watch, with the stone of Flamewatch tower projecting up into the sky. Upon it, a crimson banner with a black heart in the center flapped in the breeze of the oncoming storm, and for a second, lying in the cold snow, Biara felt a sense of peace in the middle of war. She closed her eyes as her vision swam in and out of focus, hearing the crunch of the human's footsteps in the snow nearby, his curses in common as he tried to make his was over the difficult terrain with the injuries he had sustained.
As her vision began to blacken and unconsciousness threatened to claim her, Biara's sharp hearing picked up the sound of distant horns calling. The victory horns of orcs, ringing across the valley of wintergrasp as her allies captured the fortress there. The human nearby stopped and cursed again, also hearing the noise as another rumbling sound began.
As Biara's vision fixed on the banner of her company far above her on the tower's side, she heard the growing roar of a hundred warcries shouting out in unison. Her allies had come at last, and the Blackhearts who had fallen at the tower's base had given their lives to help ensure the victory. She smiled once before her eyes rolled up into her head and she saw no more.
It would be a few hours later that the half-dead Magistrix was found in the snow, and brought back to the halls of Wintergrasp fortress to have her wounds tended to.
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