“Does some upstart piece of Sin’dorei scum really think he
can best me in combat? I mean honestly, what kind of fool does he think he is?
I’ve spent the better part of my life facing all manner of foe in beast in the
wild, from Demon to Dragon,” Alnarra grumbled as she paced around the snow drifts
of Winterspring. She trudged through the snow, back and forth, waiting for the
Blood Elf to arrive, scanning the sky looking for any signs of his approach.
She had tracked him down in the alleyways of Stormwind terrorizing the locals, after a minor scuffle she had managed to chase him from the city. Shortly after cleaning up the mess, one of his sympathizers had approached her at the bar, offering a challenge of honorable combat if she was to meet him in the snowy lands of Winterspring. Not wanting to appear a coward and also happily anticipating a chance to test all that she had learned in the newly explored Pandaria, Alnarra was all too happy to accept the challenge. Besides all that, Ravenhul was many things, but a liar was not among that reputation, or at least not to her knowledge. She was almost giddy at the chance to prove her prowess in combat, something she had been avoiding for quite some time.
It had been nearly a year since she had led an expeditionary force into the catacombs of the Twilight cult. It was not something that the Elf chose to look on fondly. In a single blunder not only had the entire expeditionary force been wiped out, but it cost her life of the only person she had let get close in a very long time. The scars of the battle hung heavy in the air; after it, she had sworn to give up fighting. In her experience the only result of such an action was death of not only ones self but those that you allowed to get close.
The nature of Azeroth simply did not allow such choices to be made. Even now as the serene winds of Winterspring blew threw her cerulean hair, Alliance and Horde soldiers across the globe were arming for another major conflict that threatened whatever illusion of balance had been achieved. In a world so stricken with grief, there is only one choice… to fight, though as the Panderen people would be so quick to remind “That it is what you are fighting for”.
Until recently, Alnarra had dismissed the saying as tripe, Panderen philosophy meant to soothe their own people against the growing issues of the world. The renewed vigor and prospect of honorable combat; however, brought back all the feelings that for so long she had suppressed and perhaps even a reason to fight. The rush of blood knowing that an opponent was nearby, the thrill of the hunt, and the prospect of glorious victory or honorable defeat all hung in the air electrifying every sensation. Yes, this feeling had been a long time coming.
Finally the Blood Elf arrived, arrogance and notions of superiority ripe with every word that raddled from the delusional creature’s mouth. “Calm Jugan, this should only take a moment,” she said quietly, soothing the Pandarian serpent. The creature quickly departed into the clouds above, watching the two below with anticipation.
“Well then, glad to see that at the very least the Sin’dorei are a people of their word… or perhaps the word of their puppets. Regardless, let us end this quickly, I think the frostsabers are hungry and I would hate to see them go without,” Alnarra said smugly. A flare of anger quickly appeared on the Sin’dorei’s face before subsiding “That traditional Kal’dorei arrogance, so… refreshing. I will take a great deal of pleasure winning this fight, but the greatest pleasure won’t be in draining that mortal life from your eyes, but in something far greater,” Ravenhul said a mixture of anger and pride in his voice. Alnarra simply rolled her eyes, “I pity you Sin’Dorei, you have so much potential to be great, but you waste it on demons and the arcane,” she began pacing back and forth on the snow preparing for the ensuing fight.
“It is that which you frown upon which has perfected our race. Your primitive people, clutching to your rituals and filthy lifestyle, we are your better.” Ravenhul said letting loose a howl of laughter. “Whatever let us end this.” Alnarra responded, a mixture of anticipation and fear in her voice.
It had been a great deal of time since the Druidess had truly been in anything more complex than a bar fight, and practicing those skills against a trained enemy who would no doubt not hesitate to end her life brought a mixture of thrill and dread to her mind. Within moments the fight began. The snow flashed as blade met claw and tooth. Fur and blood soaked the ground beneath as the two opponents held back nothing in their attacks. The ground ignited as mixture of Druidic magic and the tainted powers of the Blood Knight met. And with one final howl from the feral Druidess, the fight ended as quickly as it had begun.
The druidess lay barely conscious and bleeding in the banks of the snow, her proud opponent stood atop her fallen form. “Pathetic, but I must be going,” Ravenhul smirked, looking down. Alnarra coughed up an unsavory amount of blood into the snow groaning, “We will never stop fighting your people,” she mumbled out before the Sin’dorei disappeared into the night. “Damn…” she winced as the darkness closed in around her, “Well, that was a terrible idea,” she managed to laugh before slipping into unconsciousness. When she awoke it was atop the back of the great panderen wyrm. “Jugan?” she managed to say, before realizing that the traditionally jade dragon scales were not supposed to be a shade of red. Alnarra looked over her armor only to realize that it was proving to be the source of the red tint, a trickle of blood running from a clear puncture in the leather structure, “Oh… that isn’t good”. With an ever fading consciousness she attempted to wrap the wound applying her limited knowledge of healing magic to the injury. The simple application of pressure to the wound elicited a howl as the pain surged through her entire form.
Jugan looked back to her rider with great concern, “It’ll be ok Jugan, just keep heading for Darnassus, and don’t stop”. In truth, the Night Elf did not know how much longer she could hold on to her conscious thoughts, she had been trained to treat injuries, but this injury was proving to be incredibly persistent and was not responding to any form of natural magic. She gripped the harness of the creature and laid her head back against its scales slipping into an unconscious state once more.
When next she awoke, she was surrounded by the priestesses of Darnassus, clearly having chosen not to venture far from the spot where Jugan had landed. The Jade creature eyed her with great concern, almost fighting back against the priestesses “No Jugan, it is alright, it’s…” she couldn’t manage to complete the sentence, a painful cough overcoming her. The next moments were dotted with moments of sobriety as she shifted in and out of a conscious state. It would be nearly a day of slipping in and out of the darkness before a young Worgen priest stood next to her bed, holding a small flask and bandage in his hand. “Ms. Alannara? Can you hear me?” he said.
She had tracked him down in the alleyways of Stormwind terrorizing the locals, after a minor scuffle she had managed to chase him from the city. Shortly after cleaning up the mess, one of his sympathizers had approached her at the bar, offering a challenge of honorable combat if she was to meet him in the snowy lands of Winterspring. Not wanting to appear a coward and also happily anticipating a chance to test all that she had learned in the newly explored Pandaria, Alnarra was all too happy to accept the challenge. Besides all that, Ravenhul was many things, but a liar was not among that reputation, or at least not to her knowledge. She was almost giddy at the chance to prove her prowess in combat, something she had been avoiding for quite some time.
It had been nearly a year since she had led an expeditionary force into the catacombs of the Twilight cult. It was not something that the Elf chose to look on fondly. In a single blunder not only had the entire expeditionary force been wiped out, but it cost her life of the only person she had let get close in a very long time. The scars of the battle hung heavy in the air; after it, she had sworn to give up fighting. In her experience the only result of such an action was death of not only ones self but those that you allowed to get close.
The nature of Azeroth simply did not allow such choices to be made. Even now as the serene winds of Winterspring blew threw her cerulean hair, Alliance and Horde soldiers across the globe were arming for another major conflict that threatened whatever illusion of balance had been achieved. In a world so stricken with grief, there is only one choice… to fight, though as the Panderen people would be so quick to remind “That it is what you are fighting for”.
Until recently, Alnarra had dismissed the saying as tripe, Panderen philosophy meant to soothe their own people against the growing issues of the world. The renewed vigor and prospect of honorable combat; however, brought back all the feelings that for so long she had suppressed and perhaps even a reason to fight. The rush of blood knowing that an opponent was nearby, the thrill of the hunt, and the prospect of glorious victory or honorable defeat all hung in the air electrifying every sensation. Yes, this feeling had been a long time coming.
Finally the Blood Elf arrived, arrogance and notions of superiority ripe with every word that raddled from the delusional creature’s mouth. “Calm Jugan, this should only take a moment,” she said quietly, soothing the Pandarian serpent. The creature quickly departed into the clouds above, watching the two below with anticipation.
“Well then, glad to see that at the very least the Sin’dorei are a people of their word… or perhaps the word of their puppets. Regardless, let us end this quickly, I think the frostsabers are hungry and I would hate to see them go without,” Alnarra said smugly. A flare of anger quickly appeared on the Sin’dorei’s face before subsiding “That traditional Kal’dorei arrogance, so… refreshing. I will take a great deal of pleasure winning this fight, but the greatest pleasure won’t be in draining that mortal life from your eyes, but in something far greater,” Ravenhul said a mixture of anger and pride in his voice. Alnarra simply rolled her eyes, “I pity you Sin’Dorei, you have so much potential to be great, but you waste it on demons and the arcane,” she began pacing back and forth on the snow preparing for the ensuing fight.
“It is that which you frown upon which has perfected our race. Your primitive people, clutching to your rituals and filthy lifestyle, we are your better.” Ravenhul said letting loose a howl of laughter. “Whatever let us end this.” Alnarra responded, a mixture of anticipation and fear in her voice.
It had been a great deal of time since the Druidess had truly been in anything more complex than a bar fight, and practicing those skills against a trained enemy who would no doubt not hesitate to end her life brought a mixture of thrill and dread to her mind. Within moments the fight began. The snow flashed as blade met claw and tooth. Fur and blood soaked the ground beneath as the two opponents held back nothing in their attacks. The ground ignited as mixture of Druidic magic and the tainted powers of the Blood Knight met. And with one final howl from the feral Druidess, the fight ended as quickly as it had begun.
The druidess lay barely conscious and bleeding in the banks of the snow, her proud opponent stood atop her fallen form. “Pathetic, but I must be going,” Ravenhul smirked, looking down. Alnarra coughed up an unsavory amount of blood into the snow groaning, “We will never stop fighting your people,” she mumbled out before the Sin’dorei disappeared into the night. “Damn…” she winced as the darkness closed in around her, “Well, that was a terrible idea,” she managed to laugh before slipping into unconsciousness. When she awoke it was atop the back of the great panderen wyrm. “Jugan?” she managed to say, before realizing that the traditionally jade dragon scales were not supposed to be a shade of red. Alnarra looked over her armor only to realize that it was proving to be the source of the red tint, a trickle of blood running from a clear puncture in the leather structure, “Oh… that isn’t good”. With an ever fading consciousness she attempted to wrap the wound applying her limited knowledge of healing magic to the injury. The simple application of pressure to the wound elicited a howl as the pain surged through her entire form.
Jugan looked back to her rider with great concern, “It’ll be ok Jugan, just keep heading for Darnassus, and don’t stop”. In truth, the Night Elf did not know how much longer she could hold on to her conscious thoughts, she had been trained to treat injuries, but this injury was proving to be incredibly persistent and was not responding to any form of natural magic. She gripped the harness of the creature and laid her head back against its scales slipping into an unconscious state once more.
When next she awoke, she was surrounded by the priestesses of Darnassus, clearly having chosen not to venture far from the spot where Jugan had landed. The Jade creature eyed her with great concern, almost fighting back against the priestesses “No Jugan, it is alright, it’s…” she couldn’t manage to complete the sentence, a painful cough overcoming her. The next moments were dotted with moments of sobriety as she shifted in and out of a conscious state. It would be nearly a day of slipping in and out of the darkness before a young Worgen priest stood next to her bed, holding a small flask and bandage in his hand. “Ms. Alannara? Can you hear me?” he said.
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