The rain beat down hard upon the position that the Section 28 operatives had taken up, the druidess sat upon a muddy rock holding steady as she stared directly ahead. For the past 6 months, Section 28 operatives had been spending weeks attempting to maintain the fragile peace that had been achieved following the legion’s removal from Azeroth, but in these waning hours it seemed like the peace was on the edge of it’s collapse.
It seemed no matter how many war hawks, no matter the number of goblin shipments, no matter the number of attempted peace envoys and secretive missions attempting to guide the world a different direction it made little difference. Alnarra had watched as over the past few weeks Horde forces with their new found allies the NIghtborne and the Highmountain had made a steady march towards the more sacred among the Kaldorei lands.
She had urged the council early on that more supplies and troops would be required if there was to be any hope of keeping this aggression in check; however, each time she addressed it with the council she had been reminded that her place was to maintain the peace without the disruption of the current position for society, that if the people were to know that Section 28 was eliminating officials on both sides of the equation that were pushing for war it would be more then clear that something was amiss.
In truth Alnarra always believed that so long as the kingdoms were piloted by the likes of Greymane and Sylvanas there was little hope of maintain a fragile peace, but each time she so much as thought about submitting a mission to the council it was quickly struck down. Any high level interference would be noticed without question and more then that following a devastating series of losses during the Legion invasion it was doubtful that even with the whole of the combined Kaldorei Intillegence agencies there would be enough resources between them to tackle such an ambitious goal. And so now as the heavy thunder boomed in the distance the druidess gave a heavy sigh, holding tight to the ironwood lance in her hands.
“We expect they will overrun the outrunners and the Huntresses within the hour” Kyandre, her most trusted assistant especially on military and combat matters, reported softly as the dull roar of an ongoing fight raged somewhere just beyond the trees. “Without reinforcements there is no chance that they’ll be able to fall back to their positions in Darkshore. Striking now would at the very least ensure this unit makes it safely across the line and meets up with general Feathermoon’s larger force up the river.
There was a heavy sigh as the woman nodded, “Take Zevi, Emma, and the rest but don’t stay in the area too long, the last thing we need is the horde following you back. Keep an eye out for those forsaken archers, their aim is somewhat impeccable ever since the Nightborne began aiding them more sophisticated arcane weaponry and armor. “I’ll move down the river and see if I can’t at the very least get the troll and Tauren scouts to attempt to track me and the rest of the unit. If nothing else it will keep them off the outrunner’s tails.”
There was a gentle nod between the two as they shook hands, knowing that each time they engaged in a mission like this there was a non-zero chance that they weren’t going to becoming back from it. So the two pulled up their hoods and used the shadows so familiar to every night elf to move about the familiar forest, the air thick and heavy with the scent of rain and ash, burnt trees now scarred the landscape and the sound of shredders could sometimes be heard edging ever closer to the most sacred lands of what remained of the Kaldorei empire.
Things were bad, though if the general public knew how bad, perhaps they would not be so complacent following the destruction of the legion. Nearly every intelligence agency amongst the Alliance from SI:7 to Section 28 had all been attempting to thwart what was growing to become inevitable. Countless mission trying to stem the tides of war, to silence the drum beat that grew with a steady rhythm. The Banshee queen’s actions since the dark Titan’s sword had plunged into the sands of silithus had grown ever more hostile. Word of princess Menethil’s death had largely been kept secret from the general public, no doubt knowledge that the banshee queen had murdered her would bring about foul blood for all those involved.
Even amongst Section 28, Alnarra wasn’t fully aware of the situation, the internal affairs of the empire proving to be more then a nuisance enough to keep her busy. She had been so weighed down in meetings and missions that she had lost track of all sense of time, of herself even. Finding herself rather unwelcome aboard the vessel she had once called home she barely even had time to meet with her beloved wife, Elynxdria, their ability to see each other limited to barely a scant few days in booty bay. Her only place seemed to be as the head of Section 28, she had been in many respect deprived of any other sense of purpose.
She found her hands coated in the blood from countless operations over the last year and a half, demon, orc, and threats to the Kaldorei empire alike stained her conscious. Somehow she had managed to at least ignore all the matters she agreed to be the public face of, convincing herself that so long as she was doing it for the greater good, that so long as the means justified the ends, that she could not question the matter. But now as all her efforts were laid out before her and the drums of war beat endlessly she could not help but give a deep frown of concern.
Even now, silently, wordlessly, the beating drum echoed, the lightning cracked, the winds beat down rain and ash upon the face of all those on the battlefield as if Azeroth herself wept for a future that seemed without question. The druidess moved with her small band of agents, jumping from tree to tree, branch to branch, attempting to ensure that it was their forms and scents that would lead the Tauren and troll trackers astray if the sentinels were given the chance to flee from their falling outpost.
Even the best strategist amongst the Kaldorei knew that without the full force of the Alliance it would be impossible to maintain a long-term conflict with the likes of the full force of the Horde. Were it just the Orcs or the Tauren perhaps such a thing could be prevented, but with a seemingly endless number of troops the weary forces of the Kaldorei seemed to find themselves getting routed at every corner.
Alnarra felt she should have known that the attacks in Desolace, Ferelas, and Ashenvale were but a precursor of a greater war to come, but she could never have predicted the end goals of her opponent. No matter how many agents she had managed to seed throughout the horde, attempting to gain access to the battle plan that they were executing on this cold, solemn night was all but impossible to obtain. Wrapped in secrecy and guile the best agents of all of the intelligence agencies had been unable to unravel the mysteries that no doubt spelled a terrible fate for those who stood in the way of the Banshee queen’s goals.
And so as the familiar dance of arrow, magic, steel, and ironwood sounded against the clash of thunder and war machine alike, the druidess lost a bit more of herself to the combat, turning off her worries and her concerns so that she had a better chance of trying to achieve success, of trying to make sure as many survived this night as possible. A cut across the arm, then the face, a slash to the stomach and a narrowly avoided blow to the throat. They left the druidess bloodied and tired, all but limping as she and her small unit of agents attempted to lead the horde away from the battlefield at large, giving the sentinels just a few hours to fall back to darkshore for a battle that would no doubt spell death and destruction.
The hours grew few and the day quiet. The storm overhead drowned out by the clash of troll and elf. The conflict continued without question, the war raged on, and it was as plain as day that the defeat of the legion was but the beginning of a new chapter of bloodshed and violence.
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