Post by warraven on Dec 28, 2007 13:31:21 GMT -5
The officer at Alterac Valley glanced Eonthane over once then nodded towards a tunnel that led to the valley itself.
"You arrived at just the right time, priest," she said, her words clipped and precise, "They're amassing their forces to make another strike. We'll have to throw their dirty hides out by blood." And she bared her teeth in a snarl.
They also told him that as a priest, he may be targeted by the Alliance strike force. That if they caught on he could become their first priority to kill. He had only shrugged and said that bothered him none at all...
...the defenders had fallen, their blood-stained weapons clutched in lifeless, useless, hands. His magic was spent, all reserves drawn in vain attempts to close up the wounds that were being inflicted on those who fought to defend this valley by bombarding them with holy magic. It seared in his veins, painfully raw, and he released it with each burst of golden, pure, light. He'd consumed his own defensive spells to gather more mana to himself. He'd consumed the mana of those around him, relishing the taste of stolen power for only moments before it too was spent. Then he was useless and the Alliance had swarmed the hill.
One kicked him down into the snow. He caught himself with his staff, only going down on one knee.
"Priest, sir," the human said. Eonthane knew common, from when he was young, but he was poor at it from years of unuse. He could not form a reply or even a curse to throw in their faces.
"Useless now. Just get him out of our way."
And Eonthane started to stand, lips pulled back in a snarl. All the others dead - ! and him useless? Just to be discarded?
"Then kill me!" he screamed at them in his own tongue, "Go on! I ruined so many of you - me - because of my magic! I've-"
His words were cut short as the Alliance human backhanded him and then gave him a good shove, sending the elf tumbling down the steep cliff to land in a snowbank at the base. The snow covered him, colder than death, surely, and he struggled to breath...
Eonthane woke with a gasp and a strangled cry. He sat bolt upright for a second, his muscles protesting at the sudden movement after hours of being inert in a chair. The fire at the guild house was growing low and he warily pulled his heavy fur cloak closer around him. More wood for the fire. There was some just by the fireplace. He'd put on more wood, warm himself, and then maybe use his hearthstone to get to an inn and finish the night with some sleep in a real bed. He hadn't meant to fall asleep in a chair - here of all places.
As he stood, his cloak dragging on the ground, he became keenly aware that there was someone else in the room with him. Grimly, he cast a glance over his shoulder, not saying a word, to see who it was.
"You arrived at just the right time, priest," she said, her words clipped and precise, "They're amassing their forces to make another strike. We'll have to throw their dirty hides out by blood." And she bared her teeth in a snarl.
They also told him that as a priest, he may be targeted by the Alliance strike force. That if they caught on he could become their first priority to kill. He had only shrugged and said that bothered him none at all...
...the defenders had fallen, their blood-stained weapons clutched in lifeless, useless, hands. His magic was spent, all reserves drawn in vain attempts to close up the wounds that were being inflicted on those who fought to defend this valley by bombarding them with holy magic. It seared in his veins, painfully raw, and he released it with each burst of golden, pure, light. He'd consumed his own defensive spells to gather more mana to himself. He'd consumed the mana of those around him, relishing the taste of stolen power for only moments before it too was spent. Then he was useless and the Alliance had swarmed the hill.
One kicked him down into the snow. He caught himself with his staff, only going down on one knee.
"Priest, sir," the human said. Eonthane knew common, from when he was young, but he was poor at it from years of unuse. He could not form a reply or even a curse to throw in their faces.
"Useless now. Just get him out of our way."
And Eonthane started to stand, lips pulled back in a snarl. All the others dead - ! and him useless? Just to be discarded?
"Then kill me!" he screamed at them in his own tongue, "Go on! I ruined so many of you - me - because of my magic! I've-"
His words were cut short as the Alliance human backhanded him and then gave him a good shove, sending the elf tumbling down the steep cliff to land in a snowbank at the base. The snow covered him, colder than death, surely, and he struggled to breath...
Eonthane woke with a gasp and a strangled cry. He sat bolt upright for a second, his muscles protesting at the sudden movement after hours of being inert in a chair. The fire at the guild house was growing low and he warily pulled his heavy fur cloak closer around him. More wood for the fire. There was some just by the fireplace. He'd put on more wood, warm himself, and then maybe use his hearthstone to get to an inn and finish the night with some sleep in a real bed. He hadn't meant to fall asleep in a chair - here of all places.
As he stood, his cloak dragging on the ground, he became keenly aware that there was someone else in the room with him. Grimly, he cast a glance over his shoulder, not saying a word, to see who it was.
