Post by Faileas on Feb 17, 2010 9:08:40 GMT -5
Story of Faileas Part 1, Awakenings.
~In the mind of Faileas~
Warm surroundings and peaceful rest, for so long…
She had forgotten anything else existed. A world outside the eternal comfort went on without her, until now. The dreams, no nightmares, replaced what she embraced and loved. The rest that seemed forever brought to an end…
~She walked the inner gate, watching as the Rangers tried to hold the outer. Anyone who could lift a weapon joined them. Quel’Thalas was at stake, no sacrifice was too big. Even death.
She longed to rush and see the front, help hold what she found most dear. The screams and cries made her heart weaken. The smoke that poured into the city from the forest set ablaze, choking her. Hard to tell if the smoke followed the Scourge or was pushed in by the wind, but it made it hard to see the faces of those who screamed and cried. Probably for the best, keeping her from leaving her station.
She begins to cry.
“No!” she whispers, “No tears, Fay. Focus.”
She is brought back from her self struggle by the sound of horns. They cannot hold, Arthas and his army are over-whelming the defenses. The Ranger-General would try to hold the inner gate now.
Calling upon her blessings learned at the Cathedral of Light, she would ready her small group. Ready them for death it seemed. Too few in numbers, as the wind swept through clearing the smoke briefly and showing the vast amounts of Scourge parading through the outer gate.
Her ventures with small groups had not prepared her for this. The constant energy drains as she would call on powers to keep the group going. She was steady through her panic, but was failing to keep up. The Scourge was there no matter how many they killed. Her group was growing smaller as they gave themselves to the battle.
So much blood, having to step on bodies as she tried to position herself. She slipped and fell. Then there was a strange pause around her, as if everything stopped to wait for her to regain her feet.
A voice from an unknown face, “Sylvanas is challenging Arthas, go to her… now!”, the words came as the face turned back to the advancing Scourge. The Ranger was going to die willingly to give her a chance. She had no time to mourn.
Her energy all but gone, maybe enough to help if she made it alive. She abandoned her casting and drew forth her mace. No warrior, but shear will guided her blows and dulled the pain of those she received.
Closer, just a little closer.
Another pause as it seemed the whole battle field turned to the melee by the Sunwell.
The world would move in slow motion as she watched. What seemed impossible happened and she was helpless, as Sylvanas fell and Arthas roared in victory.
She failed. Lowering her mace as the heat of tears blinded her. Time sped back up. She didn’t even know her own killing blow came.~
Death wasn’t so bad, warm and peaceful in fact.
(To be continued.)
~In the mind of Faileas~
Warm surroundings and peaceful rest, for so long…
She had forgotten anything else existed. A world outside the eternal comfort went on without her, until now. The dreams, no nightmares, replaced what she embraced and loved. The rest that seemed forever brought to an end…
~She walked the inner gate, watching as the Rangers tried to hold the outer. Anyone who could lift a weapon joined them. Quel’Thalas was at stake, no sacrifice was too big. Even death.
She longed to rush and see the front, help hold what she found most dear. The screams and cries made her heart weaken. The smoke that poured into the city from the forest set ablaze, choking her. Hard to tell if the smoke followed the Scourge or was pushed in by the wind, but it made it hard to see the faces of those who screamed and cried. Probably for the best, keeping her from leaving her station.
She begins to cry.
“No!” she whispers, “No tears, Fay. Focus.”
She is brought back from her self struggle by the sound of horns. They cannot hold, Arthas and his army are over-whelming the defenses. The Ranger-General would try to hold the inner gate now.
Calling upon her blessings learned at the Cathedral of Light, she would ready her small group. Ready them for death it seemed. Too few in numbers, as the wind swept through clearing the smoke briefly and showing the vast amounts of Scourge parading through the outer gate.
Her ventures with small groups had not prepared her for this. The constant energy drains as she would call on powers to keep the group going. She was steady through her panic, but was failing to keep up. The Scourge was there no matter how many they killed. Her group was growing smaller as they gave themselves to the battle.
So much blood, having to step on bodies as she tried to position herself. She slipped and fell. Then there was a strange pause around her, as if everything stopped to wait for her to regain her feet.
A voice from an unknown face, “Sylvanas is challenging Arthas, go to her… now!”, the words came as the face turned back to the advancing Scourge. The Ranger was going to die willingly to give her a chance. She had no time to mourn.
Her energy all but gone, maybe enough to help if she made it alive. She abandoned her casting and drew forth her mace. No warrior, but shear will guided her blows and dulled the pain of those she received.
Closer, just a little closer.
Another pause as it seemed the whole battle field turned to the melee by the Sunwell.
The world would move in slow motion as she watched. What seemed impossible happened and she was helpless, as Sylvanas fell and Arthas roared in victory.
She failed. Lowering her mace as the heat of tears blinded her. Time sped back up. She didn’t even know her own killing blow came.~
Death wasn’t so bad, warm and peaceful in fact.
(To be continued.)