Ragefang gathered the small strikeforce on Fenris Isle. They awaited only two more to arrive, and the assault on the Sepulcher would begin. "Wretched Forsaken fortification," Ragefang growled. "They will be quickly dealt with."
Then, from the skies above, a red protodrake descended. Abominus had arrived. He strode casually up to the worgen, and as Gondorin Ragefang drew his blades, Abominus' own strikeforce leaped out from their hiding places!
The battle was swift, but brutal. Caught by surprise, the Alliance forces were scattered, and unable to mount a coordinated defense. The pommel of a sword descended towards Ragefang as he was activating his emergency escape via a quick return to Acherus, and he saw darkness even as the power of the Ebon Blade enveloped him, rushing him to safety.
As he was being tended to later, he smiled to himself. So they have some heart after all, he thought. The Horde put up a good defense, and managed to chase us off. We were too obvious this time, and they won the battle.
He rose, having one of the squires of the Ebon Blade put his armor on. "You won this time, Horde... but this fight is just starting. You've shown heart. The Reclamation will rip it out.
Azeroth will never be yours as long as the Hellscream whelp sits astride Orgrimmar's throne, and the Banshee Queen rots in Lordaeron's ruins."
"Who are you speaking to, Lord Gondorin?" the squire, a young human recently saved from remnant Scourge forces by a contingent of the Ebon Blade, asked.
Gondorin looked down at the child, shaking his head. Who was he speaking to? "Thinking aloud, boy," he said gruffly. "Finish the armor. There is planning that needs to be done. The Horde must receive an appropriate response..."
Then, from the skies above, a red protodrake descended. Abominus had arrived. He strode casually up to the worgen, and as Gondorin Ragefang drew his blades, Abominus' own strikeforce leaped out from their hiding places!
The battle was swift, but brutal. Caught by surprise, the Alliance forces were scattered, and unable to mount a coordinated defense. The pommel of a sword descended towards Ragefang as he was activating his emergency escape via a quick return to Acherus, and he saw darkness even as the power of the Ebon Blade enveloped him, rushing him to safety.
As he was being tended to later, he smiled to himself. So they have some heart after all, he thought. The Horde put up a good defense, and managed to chase us off. We were too obvious this time, and they won the battle.
He rose, having one of the squires of the Ebon Blade put his armor on. "You won this time, Horde... but this fight is just starting. You've shown heart. The Reclamation will rip it out.
Azeroth will never be yours as long as the Hellscream whelp sits astride Orgrimmar's throne, and the Banshee Queen rots in Lordaeron's ruins."
"Who are you speaking to, Lord Gondorin?" the squire, a young human recently saved from remnant Scourge forces by a contingent of the Ebon Blade, asked.
Gondorin looked down at the child, shaking his head. Who was he speaking to? "Thinking aloud, boy," he said gruffly. "Finish the armor. There is planning that needs to be done. The Horde must receive an appropriate response..."
