The glass tumbled slowly
through the air, twirling as it fell, the dying daylight reflecting
from it in flashes as its angle changed. Malandrae's eyes watched it's
almost surreal fall, her gaze locked on it as if in a trance. Around
her, screams erupted and men burst into action as the Argent Crusade's
camp was assaulted by rogue scourge forces deep in the heart of the
region known as Zul'drak.
The wine glass had slipped from the hand of one of the crusaders who had been celebrating with his companions. With the scourge mostly defeated, there was a laxity to the camp's perimeter that had resulted in the surprise attack. All of this was lost on the Highborne though as the tumbling glass shattered against the ancient stones upon which the camp had been set. The destruction of the glass sent her mind into it's own shattered nightmares.
******************************************
The glass slipped from her hand, tumbling in the glowing light of the magical orbs that lit the room. The bottle of wine she'd been carrying followed quickly after it as she stared in shock at what stood before her. Behind her, framed in the doorway was the devastation of Zin'Azshari, something she could not bear to look upon. She'd continued to serve her master faithfully, using her service as an excuse and distraction from what her Queen had allowed to happen. Using the daily routine to block out the screams that now echoed through the city as the Queen's plans fell to ruin.
Her master, her instructor and occasionally her lover stood before her, and yet he was not what he had once been. His noble body was once the image of Highborne perfection, and despite his glaring arrogance and presumption that he owned her, Malandrae had always found him attractive. But no more. He had allowed himself to become something unspeakable in exchange for power, his handsome features twisted into the foulness of a satyr.
The wine glass shattered on the floor, breaking the moment as he reached out a hand towards her, inviting her to join him in his glorious destiny. Her mouth worked, but no words came out as her eyes widened in horror. He expected her to submit to him, but she'd seen enough.
She fled.
*****************************************
There was nowhere to go. The camp was surrounded by the scourge, giests leaping at the mixture of races in their bright white tabards with the familiar sunburst design across the front. Men, elves, and orcs cried out as they engaged the vicious creatures in battle, many falling in the first moments as the surprise attack created chaos.
In the center of the swirling battle, Malandrae stood trembling, desperately trying to keep the broken pieces of her mind together as she looked around her in shock. Fear churned in her gut like acid, eating away at her even as she tried to surpress the memories that threatened to cast her into an even darker place.
"N-not now...oh heavens please not n-now..." she moaned. Behind her, a woman screamed as a ghoul tore into her with it's claws. Malandrae blinked, holding her hands to her head and trying to keep herself under control.
*****************************
Elves screamed in the distance as demons carved them up inch by inch while they were still living. The pitiful cries for mercy would never be heeded by the minions of the legion. Even those who had died would rise again in some places, as they had done in Suramar. She'd seen it in her scrying orb, she'd forced herself to watch, knowing that it was something she had to witness to understand what her Queen had done.
All of these thoughts flashed through her mind as she fled, desperately seeking her friends, hoping there was a way to escape the city even as the ground rumbled with the first cataclysmic quakes that came from the spell failure at the Well of Eternity. She could see it in the distance, the dull green light flowing from it dimmer now as the magic faded and it began to unravel, threatening to take the city and much more with it. She looked away, not wanting to watch the end of everything.
******************************
Malandrae grit her teeth and visibly shook. "No! I won't let it control me!"
With an extreme effort of will she managed to force herself to move, her eyes turning and searching. A piercing scream rose up over the general sounds of battle and her eyes focused on a group of civilians that had become trapped on one end of the camp's perimeter. They had come to resupply the Argent Crusade soldiers and amongst the small group of smiths and merchants were children.
Malandrae did not hesitate. She began to dash towards the edge of the camp as the unarmed adults with the children fought giests with their bare hands, falling one by one. Halfway to her objective a body collided with her; an Argent Crusader thrown to the ground by his ghoulish foe. Malandrae stumbled and fell hard on the smooth stone of the ancient troll temple.
*******************************
The ground shook and she stumbled, falling to the floor of the smooth marble courtyard. Ahead of her, Eldre'nor turned and grabbed her hand, helping her to her feet. Just ahead Tyavel shouted, waving for the two to hurry as angry shouts erupted from the door where she had come from. They were after her; the Master would never stop until she gave herself body and soul to his plans. She knew it. She knew that if she turned to face him, that if she paused for an instant to help anyone but herself, she would fall and die.
She knew that it made her a coward. And maybe she was.
********************************
Malandrae's head shot up and her fingers splayed out on the stone below her as she forcibly pushed herself from the stone. A look of grim determination came over her face as she lurched back into motion. Her eyes locked on the conflict at the perimeter of the camp, her will not allowing her to turn her gaze from the doomed people fighting the undead there.
Terror pumped through her body like a fine wine, mixing with her blood and making her quake as she sprinted the last few feet towards the men. Visions flitted through her mind, images from the past mixing with what was right in front of her, making it hard to separate reality from hallucination. Fear enticed her to turn away, to flee, to curl up into a ball and hide until it was over.
She pressed on.
The last of the adults fell and one of the giests lept towards the three children huddled in the center of the camp. A brilliant bolt of arcane magic slashed the creature from the air before it reached them, shattering it and throwing it away.
The other giests turned and snarled, leaping towards Malandrae as they recognized the threat. Her hands came up, her unseeing eyes not needing to aim as instinct sent multiple missiles of arcane magic into the beasts as they flew towards her. Four fell in ruin between her and the children, one slammed into her, knocking her down and pinning her to the stone. It snarled through the rotted hood over it's face, claws extended towards the elf beneath it.
Malandrae saw none of it. The creature meant nothing to her compared to what she saw in her mind. Her blank gaze met the unseeing eye beneath the hood as magic erupted from her body, the arcane explosion throwing the creature off her and into ruin. She forced herself back to her feet, stumbling towards the children and standing protectively before them. Her limbs quivered as her mind was wracked with disturbing images and she found herself unable to stop the flow of them. Tears streamed down her face.
But still she stood over the children, her magic in her hands.
*******************************
Hours later the camp was silent. The Argent Crusaders had managed to push back the roving band of scourge and found the necromancer that had been leading them. With his death, the will had gone out of the creatures and they had disbanded, most of them disappearing into the trollish ruins around them.
Dozens had fallen in the attack, and the Crusaders carefully went through the camp, looking for survivors and wounded.
At the far perimeter of the camp several of them paused, looking at the scene before them in shock. Lying on the ground admist a cluster of destroyed tents was a night elf. Three children stood protectively over where she lay, gently shaking her and trying to wake her up. Her eyes stared off into the distance, seeing nothing. They could tell she lived though by the rising and falling of her chest.
Around her lay the remains of over two dozen giests and ghouls, all burned to ash with magic.
Carefully they gathered her up and lead the children to a safe part of the camp. Malandrae was placed with the other wounded, and didn't move or speak for a full day. After a time, her gaze became focused again, and she slowly came out of whatever it was she had been lost in. The Crusaders didn't ask what had happened; she had saved the children and that was all that really mattered in the end. Whatever demons she had faced in her mind had not stopped her from doing what had to be done.
A day later Malandrae left the camp. She never spoke of what she had seen or done to anyone. It was enough for her to know that she hadn't fled this time, despite the cost.
The wine glass had slipped from the hand of one of the crusaders who had been celebrating with his companions. With the scourge mostly defeated, there was a laxity to the camp's perimeter that had resulted in the surprise attack. All of this was lost on the Highborne though as the tumbling glass shattered against the ancient stones upon which the camp had been set. The destruction of the glass sent her mind into it's own shattered nightmares.
******************************************
The glass slipped from her hand, tumbling in the glowing light of the magical orbs that lit the room. The bottle of wine she'd been carrying followed quickly after it as she stared in shock at what stood before her. Behind her, framed in the doorway was the devastation of Zin'Azshari, something she could not bear to look upon. She'd continued to serve her master faithfully, using her service as an excuse and distraction from what her Queen had allowed to happen. Using the daily routine to block out the screams that now echoed through the city as the Queen's plans fell to ruin.
Her master, her instructor and occasionally her lover stood before her, and yet he was not what he had once been. His noble body was once the image of Highborne perfection, and despite his glaring arrogance and presumption that he owned her, Malandrae had always found him attractive. But no more. He had allowed himself to become something unspeakable in exchange for power, his handsome features twisted into the foulness of a satyr.
The wine glass shattered on the floor, breaking the moment as he reached out a hand towards her, inviting her to join him in his glorious destiny. Her mouth worked, but no words came out as her eyes widened in horror. He expected her to submit to him, but she'd seen enough.
She fled.
*****************************************
There was nowhere to go. The camp was surrounded by the scourge, giests leaping at the mixture of races in their bright white tabards with the familiar sunburst design across the front. Men, elves, and orcs cried out as they engaged the vicious creatures in battle, many falling in the first moments as the surprise attack created chaos.
In the center of the swirling battle, Malandrae stood trembling, desperately trying to keep the broken pieces of her mind together as she looked around her in shock. Fear churned in her gut like acid, eating away at her even as she tried to surpress the memories that threatened to cast her into an even darker place.
"N-not now...oh heavens please not n-now..." she moaned. Behind her, a woman screamed as a ghoul tore into her with it's claws. Malandrae blinked, holding her hands to her head and trying to keep herself under control.
*****************************
Elves screamed in the distance as demons carved them up inch by inch while they were still living. The pitiful cries for mercy would never be heeded by the minions of the legion. Even those who had died would rise again in some places, as they had done in Suramar. She'd seen it in her scrying orb, she'd forced herself to watch, knowing that it was something she had to witness to understand what her Queen had done.
All of these thoughts flashed through her mind as she fled, desperately seeking her friends, hoping there was a way to escape the city even as the ground rumbled with the first cataclysmic quakes that came from the spell failure at the Well of Eternity. She could see it in the distance, the dull green light flowing from it dimmer now as the magic faded and it began to unravel, threatening to take the city and much more with it. She looked away, not wanting to watch the end of everything.
******************************
Malandrae grit her teeth and visibly shook. "No! I won't let it control me!"
With an extreme effort of will she managed to force herself to move, her eyes turning and searching. A piercing scream rose up over the general sounds of battle and her eyes focused on a group of civilians that had become trapped on one end of the camp's perimeter. They had come to resupply the Argent Crusade soldiers and amongst the small group of smiths and merchants were children.
Malandrae did not hesitate. She began to dash towards the edge of the camp as the unarmed adults with the children fought giests with their bare hands, falling one by one. Halfway to her objective a body collided with her; an Argent Crusader thrown to the ground by his ghoulish foe. Malandrae stumbled and fell hard on the smooth stone of the ancient troll temple.
*******************************
The ground shook and she stumbled, falling to the floor of the smooth marble courtyard. Ahead of her, Eldre'nor turned and grabbed her hand, helping her to her feet. Just ahead Tyavel shouted, waving for the two to hurry as angry shouts erupted from the door where she had come from. They were after her; the Master would never stop until she gave herself body and soul to his plans. She knew it. She knew that if she turned to face him, that if she paused for an instant to help anyone but herself, she would fall and die.
She knew that it made her a coward. And maybe she was.
********************************
Malandrae's head shot up and her fingers splayed out on the stone below her as she forcibly pushed herself from the stone. A look of grim determination came over her face as she lurched back into motion. Her eyes locked on the conflict at the perimeter of the camp, her will not allowing her to turn her gaze from the doomed people fighting the undead there.
Terror pumped through her body like a fine wine, mixing with her blood and making her quake as she sprinted the last few feet towards the men. Visions flitted through her mind, images from the past mixing with what was right in front of her, making it hard to separate reality from hallucination. Fear enticed her to turn away, to flee, to curl up into a ball and hide until it was over.
She pressed on.
The last of the adults fell and one of the giests lept towards the three children huddled in the center of the camp. A brilliant bolt of arcane magic slashed the creature from the air before it reached them, shattering it and throwing it away.
The other giests turned and snarled, leaping towards Malandrae as they recognized the threat. Her hands came up, her unseeing eyes not needing to aim as instinct sent multiple missiles of arcane magic into the beasts as they flew towards her. Four fell in ruin between her and the children, one slammed into her, knocking her down and pinning her to the stone. It snarled through the rotted hood over it's face, claws extended towards the elf beneath it.
Malandrae saw none of it. The creature meant nothing to her compared to what she saw in her mind. Her blank gaze met the unseeing eye beneath the hood as magic erupted from her body, the arcane explosion throwing the creature off her and into ruin. She forced herself back to her feet, stumbling towards the children and standing protectively before them. Her limbs quivered as her mind was wracked with disturbing images and she found herself unable to stop the flow of them. Tears streamed down her face.
But still she stood over the children, her magic in her hands.
*******************************
Hours later the camp was silent. The Argent Crusaders had managed to push back the roving band of scourge and found the necromancer that had been leading them. With his death, the will had gone out of the creatures and they had disbanded, most of them disappearing into the trollish ruins around them.
Dozens had fallen in the attack, and the Crusaders carefully went through the camp, looking for survivors and wounded.
At the far perimeter of the camp several of them paused, looking at the scene before them in shock. Lying on the ground admist a cluster of destroyed tents was a night elf. Three children stood protectively over where she lay, gently shaking her and trying to wake her up. Her eyes stared off into the distance, seeing nothing. They could tell she lived though by the rising and falling of her chest.
Around her lay the remains of over two dozen giests and ghouls, all burned to ash with magic.
Carefully they gathered her up and lead the children to a safe part of the camp. Malandrae was placed with the other wounded, and didn't move or speak for a full day. After a time, her gaze became focused again, and she slowly came out of whatever it was she had been lost in. The Crusaders didn't ask what had happened; she had saved the children and that was all that really mattered in the end. Whatever demons she had faced in her mind had not stopped her from doing what had to be done.
A day later Malandrae left the camp. She never spoke of what she had seen or done to anyone. It was enough for her to know that she hadn't fled this time, despite the cost.
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