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Surveying the Loss (Completed Thread)
Topic Started: Nov 29 2010, 03:26 PM (1,572 Views)
Helothannin
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((Continuation of Undercity Rescue ))

A lone blood elf squatted on top of a hill that overlooked what had once been the human town of Southshore.

The trip here had been...sickening. The destruction wrought by the Forsaken's plague on the environment had made him ill, given him a case of nausea that sent his stomach curling in on itself as he took in the sights of plague and slime clinging to the landscape. Such disrespect for the natural world...such a desecration of the world itself...it sickened him, and also kindled a very raw anger that he was careful to shut away inside him.

Southshore. The town was gone, in ruin, and the only signs of "life" - ha! - were movements within the slime pools.

Part of Helothannin's nausea was caused by a deep sense of guilt, as well. Foremost in his mind were the faces of the humans he - and the Forsaken woman Reyvan - had rescued from the Undercity and ushered to safety here, to Southshore. He could recall their relieved looks, the final wave of the human woman as she'd turned back to them before disappearing into the town...

They had been brought here to safety, only for the Forsaken to attack the town and destroy it.

Guilt, and irony, were a terrible combination.

The only sounds were those of the regular breathing of the blood elf and the rustling of feet against grass as a black hawkstrider paced uneasily behind its master.

Helo shifted, placing one knee on the ground and resting his arms atop the other, and continued with his silent vigil.
Edited by Helothannin, Feb 15 2011, 07:52 PM.
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Reyvan
Reyvan
Reyvan slowed her horse to a walk as she rode into what had once been Southshore. As she surveyed the wreckage, she felt as though her stomach had wound itself into a permanent knot, making it difficult to breath. Reyvan had never been a friend to Southshore: when zealous Southshore guards attacked her people, she would join the fighters from Tarren Mill and bring the batte to the humans. She had often wished Southshore would cease to exist entirely, so it would no longer pose a threat to the Forsaken. But she had never, never wanted this. There had been innocent people living in Southshore, and Reyvan could never condone the killing of innocents, under any circumstances.

How could Sylvanas have done this? Though Reyvan had accepted that the Dark Lady was not the benevolent leader she had always imagined, she had always hung on to the belief that there was good in her queen. But now...

She saw a figure out of the corner of her eye, crouched atop a hill overlooking the place she now stood. Eager for a distraction, she looked up. It was a slim male, elven, and though she couldn't be sure at this distance, he looked familiar. Helo?
Edited by Reyvan, Nov 29 2010, 07:38 PM.
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Zadora
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The Eastern Kingdoms... they were her home. Stormwind was her base, but the entirety of the continent, baring Blood Elf lands, was so intimately familiar to her that every scar she saw crossing the land, and every dead, innocent body she saw flung into the treetops made her heart bleed a little more. She had done everything she could to help rebuild her city, and now that that was done it was time to move on - to see where else she could be of use.

Having worked her way through Dun Morgh, the Wetlands, and Arathi, it was now that she entered the foothills of Hillsbrad. She had been alone for many days now, stopping only to help erect a barn or find a new home for some orphans before heading off again - there was too much to do, and not near enough time to do it in. As she watched the skies above her vigilantly, the paladin could not help the overwhelming sense of hatred that filled her.

That wretched dragon would pay for what he has done, for what she knows he will continue to do. These are innocent places, filled with innocence, loving people, and they deserved none of the harm that befell them. As she crested the rise that would bring Southshore into view, she started to breath a small sigh of relief - at the very least, she could find a small room in the inn and bed down for a night before seeing what it would take to rebuild what might have been damaged.

Reaching down, Zadora patted her steed's neck, whispering to him softly, "A little longer, and we'll find you some warm stables and a big trough of ha-" They had finally mounted the rise protecting Southshore, and at that moment she could no longer speak. Her left hand immediately tightened on the reins of her steed while the right had her sword up and in hand in a moment - what happened to this town?! To the innocent people here?!

With a cry that was half wail, half raging anger, the woman kneed her horse into a gallop, charging toward the quaint, charming, dead, plagued town at the bottom of the rise: what happened to Southshore!?
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Helothannin
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Below him there was a solitary figure looking at him, in the distance and far enough away that he couldn't distinguish anything beyond "Forsaken". If he was so inclined he could pull the spyglass from his saddlebags and actually have a look, but he wasn't exactly in the-

There wasn't much more than a very faint breeze blowing in from the sea beyond Southshore, so the cry from somewhere behind him came quite clearly to Helothannin's ears and immediately caught his attention, all thoughts of whether or not to remove the spyglass from his bags gone in an instant.

He stood and turned around, gaze quickly sweeping the landscape, and his attention fell on that of someone charging toward the town, sword drawn and raised. Squinting at it, he felt a faint spark of hope light in his gut.

That was most definitely a human.

Then his sight was drawn toward the road leading into the town, to where Forsaken guards and a bat tower were stationed now - there were twice-damned Dark Rangers that patrolled this area as well as the Forsaken guards too. That human was charging into a certain death.

He lurched forward into a run, holding up his hands to show he was unarmed.

"Wait! Stop!" he shouted in Common, angling his path to intercept the rider.
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Reyvan
Reyvan
At the shout, Reyvan turned in her saddle to see a human woman charging toward what was left of Southshore, sword drawn. For a moment she was tempted to just let the human pass, let her have her vengeance. But then she looked back toward Southshore and saw the many Forsaken guards and Dark Rangers patrolling the area. They had not yet seen the human woman rushing toward them, but they would soon, and when they did they would surely kill her- she was outnumbered by far. More than enough innocent humans had perished here. If she could prevent one more death, she would. She turned her horse to come between the human and her destination.

"Human!" She called out in Common. "Don't be a fool!"
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Zadora
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It wasn't that she hadn't noticed the many patrolling Horde wandering the streets, or didn't understand that they could overwhelm and kill her just by sheer numbers. It was not as though she was stupid, for she had seen enough battles to be decent at understanding what strategies would work and what would not. But... in the short time since the Shattering had destroyed Azeroth, she had seen more heartbreaking devastation than she had even known could exist in this world.

While the deaths in Northrend were tragic, and sad, and filled her with a sense of mournfulness, they had been valiant deaths - deaths befitting the soldiers they had fallen on. Those soldiers did not deserve to die, but they had known that that might be their lot, when they boarded the ships that took them to that cold, forsaken land. She had known herself that the chances she would fall in battle were monumental, and it was only by the grace of the Light that she had made it back to the Eastern Kingdoms alive.

But these people here, in Southshore, in the Eastern Kingdoms, they did not sign up for this. They did not agree to the risk the soldiers in Northrend took upon their shoulders. They did not even have the capability to defend themselves, and the Cataclysm had ripped them apart from stem to stern. Every mile she rode drove her a bit deeper into darkness - these were children, pregnant women, old men lying dead on the streets, not plate clad warriors! This is not what life was supposed to be!

They had worked so damn hard in Northrend, and lost so many brave soldiers, to protect these people! To save them from the Scourge, from the plans of the Lich King. Zadora was not immortal, not anything near it. While she had lived through the events of the Burning Crusade, and had done some work in Outlands, she was not as invested in that fight. When the Scarab Wall fell, in the far off continent of Kalimdor, she had been small, innocent. As a human, she had not lived as long as some of her friends - the Night Elves, the Draenei. She did not see the Sundering, or watch the Orcs destroy Draenor. But Northrend had been her fight, and she had given so much to see it won.

To protect these people. To defend her lands.

The trip from Stormwind to here had been enough to start tearing at her spirit, bringing darkness to her soul that previously had never been able to take hold. What was the point anymore, if, after their immense struggles in that frozen continent, everyone died anyway? What was she around for anymore, if she couldn't defend those she swore to the Light that she would. So she knew charging into Southshore was probable suicide, but right in that moment...

The sick green blight lay in sinkholes through the town. It wasn't even the Light forsaken Shattering that had destroyed this town. It was the Horde. It was the suddenly monstrous, vicious, cruel, inhumane Horde. In Northrend they had been unwilling allies, and the Shattering should have brought them closer yet, to defend against the monster roaming their skies. But this...?

The destruction caused by the Shattering brought her enough darkness. The Shattering had not destroyed Southshore. The Horde had. All these people could still be alive, and happy, and smiling, if not for the Light forsaken Horde. In that moment, as she charged down that rise, for the first time in her life she lost touch with the Light that had, until now, filled her to the very brim - that had given her faith they could win, that there was good in the world. As she started her charge into that poor town she was going to take every single monster of the Horde down with her that she could, and watch them die beneath her blade until it fell from her hand in her own death throes. She was apparently useless, even after winning the battle in Northrend, the people she swore to protect still died. And here, at the hands of those who were once allies!?

Maybe she'd lived long enough. Maybe it was time to die. Maybe they'd laugh and spit on her corpse, but what did it matter - in this moment, she felt like a failure, and the rage and pain and sadness that overtook her was relentless. She would find vengeance for these townspeople somehow, she would -

The sudden cries, in her own tongue, that reached her ears were jarring, and she whirled to face them immediately, clinging to her horse by knees only now, shield in her left hand. The voices were not human, the accent not Night Elven, Dwarfish, Gnomish, or Draenei. Were they trying to play a game with her, these miserable turncoats? Trying to tease and taunt before they rushed to kill her? She would not let them have it, and she would not respond in kind. Drawing her steed into a stop, she lowered her shield to protect her face - it was always easier to fight on horseback if your opponent was the one running toward you, having to deal with changes in terrain and the movement of their weapons.

She would let them come to her, and they would be the first to die.
Edited by Zadora, Nov 30 2010, 03:38 PM.
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Helothannin
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Helothannin slowed from a run, to a jog, to a walk, and carefully approached the human woman.

She had stopped, so that was a clear indication that she'd heard him; perhaps if he could get to her, and convince her to turn away before the guards noticed...

He came within twenty yards of her and stood there, his hands held out from his sides with his palms facing the woman, showing her he held no weapon in them, then he reached - very slowly - over his shoulder and unhooked his bow and polearm and let both clatter to the ground.

"There are many guards in those...ruins," he said then, just loud enough for the woman to hear. "You will be overwhelmed and either captured or killed, and if you are captured it will be a drawn-out and terrible death, in the end. I am asking you, please get off your horse and get out of sight before you are spotted."

He briefly looked down into the town, his neutral expression hardening briefly, before he looked back to the woman. "Enough life has been lost here, yes?"
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Reyvan
Reyvan
Reyvan remained on her horse, stationed between the woman and the ruins of Southshore. She would not approach just yet. Humans tended to look more kindly on elves than they ever would on her kind. Best to let Helo handle this. She would be there if he needed her.
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Zadora
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Her response was clipped, her eyes narrowed as she watched the miserable creatures of the Horde in front of her, "Who are you to meddle in human affairs, Blood Elf?" While he may have dropped his weapons, her grip on the ones in her own hands stayed steady - she did not trust him in the least. While it was true that the others here were all Forsaken, she was not so naive to think that he could not be in cahoots with them.

She had never been one of the close-minded, racist members of the Alliance who believed that every member of the Horde was evil. As a matter of fact, Northrend had shown her that the opposite of that was true. But right now... The Horde did this, and the Light that filled her could no longer be felt. Maybe they were all evil, and she had only had the wool pulled over her eyes in that frozen north.
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Helothannin
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"My name is Helothannin Dawnwatcher, and I'm not meddling, I'm hoping to save your life."

His gaze went distant a moment as he again clearly recalled the wave of the human woman they'd saved. After a few breaths, his attention came fully back to the woman in front of him.

"I've seen what the Forsaken do to their captives, and I refuse to stand idly by and allow them the chance to do so again."
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