"I live... and die... for the Horde... and for Hellscream..."
Sharanka Windaxe raced to the Drag as fast as the form of the Spirit Wolf would allow - with a bit of aid from a rocket boost, of course. The Elemental assault was in full swing. The rifts in the Valley of Strength had been closed, and the defense force, being led at the moment by one Abominus the Maggot Lord, was moving back into the Drag after being briefly pushed back.
Reverting to her orcish form, she stared into the Drag, calling upon the Spirit of Air to imbue her axes with the wind that wreathed them as always in combat, and allowed them to scream as their master did. Letting just such a scream erupt from her throat, she began her charge into the battle, but halted quickly.
Just behind the front lines lay a still form, a familiar axe in hand. Approaching it slowly, her usual fierce, unyielding demeanor vanishing entirely, eyes widened behind her goggles, she dropped to her knees beside the corpse of her father: Korigal Windaxe, self-proclaimed "The Coming Evil". Clutched tightly in his fist was a replica of the legendary Gorehowl, crafted by his own hand over many years, down to the smallest details, the tiniest nicks.
Barraged by unwelcome emotions, she allowed the strongest, most familiar among them to run rampant, and direct her as it so frequently did; pure, blinding, white-hot rage. The Spirits that still heeded her call in the recent Elemental disasters whipped into a tempest around her, she barreled into the front lines, screaming incoherently, howling not-so-idle death threats, and insults as her axes found their mark in the rampaging Elementals time and time again.
The furious haze of battle distracted her from the pain of what she'd just lost. There had always been arguments... disagreements. They were family, it was only natural. But dammit, he was her father.
After the attack had been driven off, thanks to the efforts of the warriors who'd fought off the elementals, giving the Earthen Ring time to seal the rifts in Orgrimmar, Sharanka returned to the place where Korigal had fallen. Abominus was there, as were several others. They spoke of how fiercely he fought, never giving an inch. How he'd given his life holding the line as the others had been forced to retreat, Abominus hissing, throwing in the occasional "yesssss" as he always did.
Sharanka knelt by her father. He'd died the death he'd always dreamed of; honorably in battle, protecting his home and his people, together with comrades in arms.
Picking up her father's still form in her arms, ensuring that even in death he maintained his grip on his axe, she carried him away, Abominus and the others saluting the fallen warrior, to take him and prepare a pyre to properly honor him, and say farewell.
Sharanka's goggles were around her neck, rather than their usual position over her eyes, the first tears she'd let loose in years staining her cheeks.
Sharanka Windaxe raced to the Drag as fast as the form of the Spirit Wolf would allow - with a bit of aid from a rocket boost, of course. The Elemental assault was in full swing. The rifts in the Valley of Strength had been closed, and the defense force, being led at the moment by one Abominus the Maggot Lord, was moving back into the Drag after being briefly pushed back.
Reverting to her orcish form, she stared into the Drag, calling upon the Spirit of Air to imbue her axes with the wind that wreathed them as always in combat, and allowed them to scream as their master did. Letting just such a scream erupt from her throat, she began her charge into the battle, but halted quickly.
Just behind the front lines lay a still form, a familiar axe in hand. Approaching it slowly, her usual fierce, unyielding demeanor vanishing entirely, eyes widened behind her goggles, she dropped to her knees beside the corpse of her father: Korigal Windaxe, self-proclaimed "The Coming Evil". Clutched tightly in his fist was a replica of the legendary Gorehowl, crafted by his own hand over many years, down to the smallest details, the tiniest nicks.
Barraged by unwelcome emotions, she allowed the strongest, most familiar among them to run rampant, and direct her as it so frequently did; pure, blinding, white-hot rage. The Spirits that still heeded her call in the recent Elemental disasters whipped into a tempest around her, she barreled into the front lines, screaming incoherently, howling not-so-idle death threats, and insults as her axes found their mark in the rampaging Elementals time and time again.
The furious haze of battle distracted her from the pain of what she'd just lost. There had always been arguments... disagreements. They were family, it was only natural. But dammit, he was her father.
After the attack had been driven off, thanks to the efforts of the warriors who'd fought off the elementals, giving the Earthen Ring time to seal the rifts in Orgrimmar, Sharanka returned to the place where Korigal had fallen. Abominus was there, as were several others. They spoke of how fiercely he fought, never giving an inch. How he'd given his life holding the line as the others had been forced to retreat, Abominus hissing, throwing in the occasional "yesssss" as he always did.
Sharanka knelt by her father. He'd died the death he'd always dreamed of; honorably in battle, protecting his home and his people, together with comrades in arms.
Picking up her father's still form in her arms, ensuring that even in death he maintained his grip on his axe, she carried him away, Abominus and the others saluting the fallen warrior, to take him and prepare a pyre to properly honor him, and say farewell.
Sharanka's goggles were around her neck, rather than their usual position over her eyes, the first tears she'd let loose in years staining her cheeks.
Edited by Sharanka on 11/22/2010 11:35 PM PST
