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The assault had quickly turned into a rout.

True to his promise to his Horde allies, Lahkin stayed far above the battle, wings flapping rhythmically to keep his stone drake form aloft. Luckily he had been given an excuse so the others wouldn't question his choice to stay out of the battle. An enterprising dwarven reporter had wanted to watch the attack from a bird's-eye view, and Lahkin agreed to give him a ride.

The two circled, watching as the Alliance valiantly drove the Horde up the hill again and again, only to go down again and again under heavy fire. Lahkin found that keeping a rider on his back was almost as hard as staying on as rider himself. Twice the dwarf caught a stray spell to the face and fell off. When Lahkin swooped down to pick him up the second time, he caught sight of a familiar form on the edge of the battle.

Modas!

Lahkin grabbed the protesting dwarf and swooped closer. The Forsaken taunted him, drawing him further and further away from the main forces. Lahkin felt a grin cracking his draconic face. The Modasi hoped to pick him off out of range of any help, but little did he know the Terrans were skilled at ambushes themselves...

Lahkin doubled back to the Azshara cliffs to deposit the dwarf in a safe location. In the meantime he sent out a call for help to the rest of his Terrans, then turned back for the Harbor.

With any luck, the Modasi wouldn't even know what hit him...

This time two stone drakes descended on the Forsaken, Kordrion switching forms to stab at the Modasi's back, while Lahkin caught him on the chin with his mace as soon as he had hands again. Despite the swift attack, the Modasi still managed to get off some spells, and Lahkin wheezed as multiple bolts of fire and arcane blackened his armor.

Suni came down soon afterwards, throwing her own magic into the scuffle. Between the three of them, the Modasi was laid flat. Lahkin stepped back, wiping his forhead and smirking to himself. One down!

And in the next instant he was flat on the ground himself, head exploding into stars.

The orc shaman had appeared out of nowhere, the fire of his mace scorching Lahkin's blonde hair, and the ice of his axe cooling it in the next instant. He didn't look happy to see Lahkin there, and Lahkin saw just enough of him to register the orc as a not-Modas. Fel. He hadn't want to involve any others in the crossfire.

Lahkin rolled sideways, jumping to his feet in a defensive stance. He managed to catch a chunk of lava off his shield, hissing in pain as the metal super-heated against his arm. Another shaman was backing up the first, this one a tauren. Lahkin vaguely recognized the armor as belonging to the Razortalon, Eslyn.

Double fel.

Lahkin cast about, just in time to see Kordrion dive off the side of the hill, and Suni disappear into thin air. Lahkin followed his second, leaping off the edge of the goblin's island. He called on the stone drake's spirit again, wings sprouting from his back. His muscles quivered and twitched in strain as he caught the air, and the commander hoped his wings didn't sprain themselves before his change was all the way finished.

He rose up, wings aching, claws grazing the ocean water. Bilgewater Harbor was left far behind. He called on the Terrans to rendezvous under Nordrassil, and then sent out a call for an AAMS courier to take a message to the Horde in apology.

He had a feeling he had a long explanation due for the Razortalons.

((Er. I am told I may have gotten Kaeevanrash and Eslyn confused. I looked up and just saw angry tauren shaman--so my apologies if I got the wrong one in the write-up! Whichever one of you it was has a wicked lava burst!))

((Pretty sure it was Kaevan, from what I was atching, heheh. I /think/ lava burst is elemental, and esy is enhance. Also was fun :D ))

((A Snippet of Vigilant Times issue 1)

Arnogh's Magnifecent Adventure Issue 1

"Riding atop a mysterious drake, I saw it. I saw the Horde banners clash with the Alliance ones in Bilgewater. Smoke, magic and powder filled the air as if Deathwing itself descended upon the land once more. At first, the heroes of Alliance fought valiantly, winning each inch from the Horde. But then they got ambushed, and this is where chaos insued.

I couldn't have a good look though, for your Magnifecent writer was shot on the shoulder by a stray magic bullet. The impact was such, I was flinged to the land. Confused and amist carnage, I draw my weapon and try to fend for myself. The good people at the Alliance told me I would have no proctection from them, and they gave me none. But they were gracious enough to secure a path of withdrawal before fleeing the battlefield.

Overall this encounter taught me several things. One is that a Dwarf's place is in land, not on a Drake's back. Two is that Drakes are a Dwarf best friend. And three Alliance needs to protect their flanks more and keep key targets at bay.

I understand this might sound a bit puzzling but Horde were acting as savage brutes, gesturing like young dwarves in a insult match. There was no honor here, just brigands on the defensive for once. A shame, for the glory of battle was denied to both sides by the actions of some undead filth.

Through after I said goodbye to the drake, my heart was filled with sadness. What did this accomplish? Sure, the generals will learn from this shuffle. Learn how to react, how to protect, how to fight better their hated enemies. But from atop of my friend, the Drake, all I saw was death.

At this very moment, the one you are reading this fine publication, Horde has took more settlements, making these skimirshes at Bilgewater more common until further notice.

Azeroth needs heroes."

((Ah, good old Dwarven propaganda :D ))

((Awesome writeups, Lahkin and Arnogh! ^^))

03/05/2012 03:27 AMPosted by Raoul

((Ah, good old Dwarven propaganda :D ))

((I'm so glad you actually realized what I'm trying to do there! I wanted to thank you all for the event it was awesome))

Rumors had been flying all day that the Alliance might stage another attack that evening, lead by the same stooges as several recent assaults on Horde settlements.

By the time the Bilgewater alarms started sounding, Zharikov and the Razortalons had managed to pull together nearly a score of stalwart defenders. These brave men and women came from all walks of life and called many a different guildhall their homes; yet, they were united, for now, by the pressing need to defend the people of the Horde from this looming attack by the murderous Alliance.

Oskor found the band of aggressors assembled by the ships in the harbor and yelled into his hearthstone, calling the other defenders. The Alliance, busy killing Bilgewater dockworkers and drunken orc soldiers, seemed entirely unprepared for the retaliation of their band of seasoned fighters. One by one, they fell under the strength of the Horde.

Zharikov called for a withdrawal to the top of the hill. Though this seemed entirely counterproductive to Oskor, he followed the crowd. "Rather stay on 'em, until dey get th' picture an' scram," he complained. "Teach 'em t' stay outta our cities."

The Talons began to explain something about "giving them a sporting chance," but Oskor tuned them--and the rest of his immediate surroundings--out, as he called forth his shaman's Far Sight to study the Alliance's next actions.

Not two seconds later, he shook his head violently. "Dey're comin' up th' hill. Now!"

Leading the charge, Oskor threw himself back into the fray. One moment, he found himself face to face with Cyrus; the next, hacking wildly at Rose Grenwall's magic shields. As her defenses finally fell, he may have even blown her a mocking kiss.

The Alliance lasted slightly longer on this attempt, but, again, they fell. Again, Zharikov made the call back to the top of the hill. And, again, Oskor complained, his Orcish blood fury thoroughly awakened by the fighting.

The aggressors staged one final assault, and all accounts afterward claimed that this one had been their best attempt. Oskor, however, remembered nothing of it. The others told him that he'd been everywhere at once, slashing and bashing, hurling fire, frost, and lightning at anyone who got in his way.

All he knew was that he was completely and utterly exhausted when he finally returned to his senses. He was covered in blood and viscera, but, somehow, he himself was relatively unharmed. The healers of the Horde had outdone themselves tonight, somehow keeping him up and in the fight, when, by all rights, he should've probably been dead.

The Alliance had scattered, but most of the Horde defenders remained at Bilgewater. Some waited for healing; others still expected another attack.

Oskor was one of this second group.

As he searched through the buildings, he contemplated why the attackers had chosen this target. He vaguely recalled the rumors that the Harbor's tremendous cannon was aimed squarely at Stormwind City, but that couldn't be it. In all likelihood, should the cannon actually be fired, Stormwind would be fine, while Bilgewater--and possibly most of Azshara--would be a crater.

After all, he had seen goblin "technology" at work before.

Maybe they'd hoped to use it as some sort of staging ground on Orgrimmar, itself.

---

As he turned the corner, Oskor's battle instincts told him something was wrong before his mind even grasped the situation. There, ahead of him, was a single Forsaken being viciously attacked by a pair of humans, while a third hovered nearby: an observer or a possible reinforcement.

Without a thought, the shaman rushed in to help even the odds. He rained down blows from his mace on the paladin's head, while also trying to stay aware of the rogue's movements. Somewhere in his subconscious, he realized he'd fought the two of them before. He recognized not only the simple black and white of their tabards, but also their tactics and movements. And, in the heightened state awakened once again by his blood fury, he recognized their battle stench: the mingling smells of their sweat and blood.

Again, he found himself outnumbered, especially once the mage entered the fight. He fought madly for his life, using every dirty trick he could think of. As the humans were slowly driven back, he became vaguely aware that he was no longer alone in his fight. Another shaman, maybe two--Fel, it was hard to tell at this point--stood behind him, hurling molten lava after the Alliance.

---

Only after the Alliance had scattered did Oskor hear the comments and questions from his own side. "Why'd you help a Modasi?" "You should've let them have him."

Oskor shook his head. The Forsaken hadn't worn a tabard, and he'd been too far away to look for the brand.

His fingers crept up to his own forehand, scratching at the old, faded scar. Did the Order even still do that?

Scowling, he stood and faced the others. "Don' matter if'n he's Modas, or if'n he ain't. Et was two--mebbe three--Alliance on one Horde, an' dat ain't a fair fight."

Despite some lingering complaints about how "the Modas aren't even Horde," Oskor refused to back down.

"'s th' Doctors' job t' protect an' defend th' Horde an' t' provide aid an' healing when 's needed."

He grinned wickedly.

"An', now, as th' newes' Head Docta, Ah'm pleased t' tell y' t' go !@#$ yerselves, if y' don' agree wit' my actions."

((Oskor, brilliantly written. xD That last line made me grin.))

03/04/2012 08:41 PMPosted by Raoul

((Pretty sure it was Kaevan, from what I was atching, heheh. I /think/ lava burst is elemental, and esy is enhance. Also was fun :D ))

((I only just noticed this thread. ._.; But yeah, that was me back there. Lava Burst isn't elemental only, but ele's generally the only spec you'll see casting that from a distance.))