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Have you ever wondered what would happen if Arthas and Illidan duelled again? Have you ever wanted to see Thrall take on Lothar? Does the idea of a flight of dragons engaging a horde of winged demons fill your imagination with the light of inspiration? Is there a raid boss you've never been able to take down except in your dreams? Or is there a dream weapon you wish your warrior could wield, but does not exist? Then this is the thread for you.
Here you will be able to conjure up the fantasy battles you always wanted to see played out. This is the WarCraft Colosseum, and it is all about the thrill and tragedy of battle. Also, one of the points of this thread is to help writers improve their battle writing skills, their descriptive skills, and their character development skills in a the context of conflict.
If you have any questions feel free to ask. Oh, and battles do not need to be WarCraft related.
Yes, each is supposed to be unique. Also, they do not need to finely polished; after all, part of this thread's purpose is to help people with their battle writing skills.
Here's a fairly random little skit I whipped up tonight just for this. Love the idea, writing battle scenes is quite fun. I'll probably submit quite a few, if there's not a limit =). Anyways, here's "Selquist and Zigy kick raptor butt in Un'goro Crater" (catchier title coming soon, maybe?)
Selquist had thought about how he might die, in the past, but had never quite considered drowning in a lake of ooze. As the possibility now loomed over him, he realized he didn’t like it very much. There were, all in all, better ways to go.
He picked himself up with a “slurp,” and turned back to face the massive raptor he and his partner, Zigy, had stumbled upon entirely by accident. They were mercenaries, always looking for a job that could bring in some easy money in exchange for some sword work, but this isn’t what they had bargained for.
Zigy was currently 20 feet in the air, being shook back and forth in the monster’s giant clawed hand.
“Come on!” he spat. “Is that all you got? You pansy! Selquist’s mom could put up a better fight than you!”
“Don’t worry, Zig!” called up Selquist, but his voice was drowned out in a deafening roar. Looking around in horror, he realized more raptors were coming. Smaller ones, but four more, which would make things a hell of a lot more difficult. “Ok, new plan, you take care of the big guy, I’ll settle things down here!”
“Easy as ale!” scoffed the Dwarf Warrior. Breaking his arms free from the clawed grip, he clasped onto a claw and bent it, his muscles bulging from the effort. The claw bent clear around, stabbing the giant raptor in it’s own hand. It screamed, and threw Zigy into a tree, where he promptly crashed down to the ground smacking every tree branch in his path.
Selquist jumped through the air and jabbed out with his dagger, piercing the throat of one of the smaller raptors. This maneuver didn’t take it down, but sent it squealing off in pain. Another raptor came up from behind, and a clawed paw raked across his shoulder. Selquist gasped in pain, whirling around and smacking the beast on the nose with all his might, using the diamond-encrusted mace he carried in his left hand. This wasn’t enough, and the raptor roared up with both front paws and knocked Selquist onto his back. The rogue sighed, as he drifted down into another puddle of tar.
An axe came hurtling through the air and pierced into the skull of the offending raptor. Its eyes went wide in shock, and it collapsed forwards, dead. Zigy rushed up, using his feet to hold the body down as he pried his weapon out of its skull.
“Little help?” called out Selquist, struggling to pull himself back up, but unable to fight against the sticky mud-like substance.
“I gotcha,” called back Zigy, when suddenly a foot landed around him. The massive raptor had stepped forwards once more, Zigy stuck right in between two toes. “Either that was incredibly good luck, or this guy is toying with us.” Zigy hefted his axe and cut into the space between the giant beast’s toes, then ran off as it screamed in agony. He stepped into the tar to get Selquist, but his chain mail soon had him sinking downwards at an even faster rate.
“Well this is no good…” muttered Selquist. Then an idea struck him. He pulled his crossbow out of his belt, and ripped a sleeve off of his leather jerkin. Unraveling the leather, he tied it to the crossbow and grabbed onto the other end. Launching the bolt, the sleeve pulled taught, and when the arrow hit the closest thing to the pit – the dinosaur’s leg – Selquist was able to pull himself out of the pit. He grabbed Zigy on his way by, who was already up to his ears in muck.
“That was an unpleasant experience,” spat the rogue, trying to brush tar out of his hair. Zigy looked at him oddly.
“WHAT?” screamed the warrior.
“I said that was an unpleasant experience!”
“WHAT?”
“I think you’ve got tar in your ears!”
“I’VE GOT PAR IN MY LEERS?”
Selquist sighed. “Hope you don’t need your ears to fight,” he said more to himself, and charged in. He stabbed into the larger beasts leg with his dagger, and hoisted himself up. He continued this maneuver until he was at knee height. He brought back his mace, and smashed the kneecap as hard as he could. The beast reared back, more annoyed than hurt.
Zigy whirled around with his axe, lopping off the leg of one of the remaining smaller raptors. It fell over, mewing pathetically, until Zigy ended its life. He turned around in time to have his ribs bitten into. Using the handle of his axe, he beat away the remaining creature, but not until there was a large gash in his chest.
Selquist continued his ascent up the creature’s leg. When he reached the stomach, he found it was softer, so he began beating in with his mace. The creature attempted to claw at him, but was having difficulty reaching. Selquist attacked until his arm felt numb from the exertion. Panting, he realized he and Zigy would never be able to take down this creature. He looked down and saw as his warrior friend dodged nimbly as the raptor snapped it’s jaw for another chunk of dwarf meat. He took the opportunity to lash out with his axe, beheading the creature in one swing. Selquist let out a low whistler of admiration. Although he was much faster and craftier than his hulking friend, he lacked the sheer physical strength that Zigy possessed.
Giving up on the rogue for the moment, the giant monster turned its sights towards Zigy. Zigy looked up, having finished off all the smaller raptors. His neck nearly strained from the effort of looking all the way up to meet his adversary’s gaze. It charged forwards, and Zigy turned-tail, running. Selquist lost his grip and fell to the ground, his dagger still protruding from its stomach. Zigy maneuvered around the much-hated tar pit, but the monster was not so smart. It stepped into the goo, it’s foot sinking downwards. As it tried to continue running, it’s foot would not move out of the pit, and the whole beast came plummeting downwards, landing face first in the dirt.
“Excellent…job…” panted Selquist, standing up and dusting himself off. “Damn,” he added, “I liked that dagger…”
“WHAT?”
“Never mind…come on, let’s go find somewhere to wash off all this crap.”
The ancient mage stumbled and fell, the remnants of his half-formed spell falling away from him like shreds of tapestry in the breeze, he half rose to his feet and straightened with monumental effort.
Swaying on his feet, the blue robed mage raised his palm and quickly began a powerful ensorcellment, but with a mocking laugh, that too was ripped away with a mocking laugh. The mage then felt true fear, a numbing terror that swept through his bones and gripped his heart in an icy thrall.
It was no magic that caused this he knew, the terrible effigy before him was what caused this terrible fear. The daemon roared it’s triumph to the rocky ceiling above, and staggered closer on massive clawed feet. It’s likeness was that of the vaunted Doomguard, but it was far more ancient and terrible of aspect. It’s deep sockets blazed a lazy white fog, and it’s great skull like head swept back to five long blackened horns.
“You are doomed, little mage. Your stolen magics shall be returned to whom they belong!” the words were spoken like words of flame, and darkness tainted every word.
A dozen and a half of the greatest mages had come to challenge this foe who had challenged them at their seat of power, they had came prepared and confident. Neither virtues lasted beyond the first glimpse of this great daemon of the nether. He had callously torn away all their great enchantments, reduced these mighty sorcerors to powerless pawns, all their magics coming to naught against it’s power. Only one had remained thus far, due to his great experience and cunning.
But still, the great daemon merely toyed with the last standing mage, savoring the mage’s last futile attempts at survival.
It rose above the puny human, as massive and tall as half a hundred of those pitiful humans.
It’s long massive tail lashed and the mage dove back, a shower of rock cascaded above him, but a quick spell of protection saw that he escaped unharmed, a quick succession of bursts erupted from his fingertips and exploded in blue fire against the daemon’s left temple. Unprepared for the unexpected attack the daemon reacted, it wielded a massive fellblade, forged in the nether, fully as long and great as a dozen men, and as dark as the pits of hell.
Spry for his age, the mage used his talisman of distortion to confuse the daemon’s sight and cast himself aside. The daemon’s free hand came up and a riot of dark colours and aspects came into play about it. The mage suddenly staggered, and as a dark aura seemed to grow from him and stretch towards that orb in the daemon’s hand, the mage’s vision seemed to dim and he realised the daemon was drawing the mana from his body, leaving him completely helpless. He attempted to cast a warding around his body, but the daemon was no longer to be caught off guard and the spell vanished from him even as it began. What arcane means the demon employed to do so was beyond the mage.
The mage shook himself violently, and with a cry, released his talisman of distortion. The demon, now clearly seeing the human, bellowed and lashed out with his evil blade. The mage disappeared underneath a cloud of dust and rubble. But the daemon roared in titanic fury as the dark orb it had manifested in its hand suddenly drew in upon itself and exploded in magical rage, scorching the daemon’s glistening dark body with bright magic.
The mage somehow reappeared on the other side of the cavern, for he was ancient and practiced, and their were a few spells that he could effect that was beyond the daemon’s comprehension. The daemon sudden;y realised that this foe was no longer to be underestimated. Here was a true threat to him.
The fellblade roared through the air, a fiery brilliance illuminating it darkly, but the mage was elusive, all his energies concentrated on the deception and confusing of the daemon, instead of the open confrontation that destroyed his brothers. The daemon roared alien words of power, and the air around the mage was suddenly full of fire and shadow. A blazing wind whipped him around and threw him violently against a rock face. The mage screamed in pain as the unnatural fire burned into his flesh, his very soul, his magical robes barely keeping him alive.
The fire and shaodw parted before the great blade, and shattered the rock at the mages feet, and the mage was tossed forward. The mage struggled to keep himslf together. He threw a ball of white flame at where he judged the daemon to be, but even as his quick spell was sunffed out, he mouthed an ancient ritual, moving his hands as best as he was able in his wretched condition.
He saw a vast and dark movement, and the flames and shadow pressed in on him, he saw the fellblade once again sweeping through the fire, and he screamed the last words with a desperation in his soul.
The mountain shattering blade seemed to crash against some invisible thing a foot before the mage’s face and flew up towards the celing with it’s own force. The mage rose powerfully to his feet, his greatest spell of protection warding him from the cyclone of fire and dark shapes. The shadow seemed to lash out at him, and they took forms and substances, summomns from the nether. There were terrible shaking booms and the mage percieved through the flame, the terrible form of the demon stalking towards him, every step shaking the cavern.
The mage threw out his arms and chanted a weak spell, the demon whirled and the cavern shuddered as he attacked some invisible foe behind him. The mage closed his fingers and began a new chant, his brow furrowed deeply as he drew upon his magical reserves which were sorely depleted by the daemon’s orb. Bright light fissured and gasps of it came spurting between his fingers, he threw his hands open into the air as if throwing some enormous weight and the light scattered amidst shadow and flame.
The light tore rents in the chaotic fury, and the flame and shadow fell away, the wind dying with the mage’s potent spell. The daemon, no longer distracted by illusions, came at the mage with fellblade raised, a shadowy chain materialized in the great beast’s other hand and it bore down on the mage with murderous intent.
The massive chain lashed out and crashed into the mage’s protective enchantment, sending him flying back, but he stayed himself. The daemon crashed the fellblade into the rock above the mages head even as the daemon roared out a hellish spell. The air around the mage began to glow with a deep purple hue as the daemon attempted to drain the mage, but his ward held. The fellblade came down again, and the mage evaded it only to be caught by the shadowy chain. His magic suddenly failed him, and the chain wrapped itself around him like a living thing. He was torn violently into the air, the mage channelled and furious flame hissed along the chain, to no effect. He cast magical bolts of the most powerful sort, and they erupted along the daemon’s upraised arm, causing it to draw back in momentary dismay.
The mage was whipped forth and the daemon huge arm snaked forth to snatch the mage from the air, bringing the human close to it’s evil visage.
“Your soul is mine, little mage!” it growled terribly. It’s charcoal skull opened to reveal a chasm of furious purple and red chaos, an evil wind pulled at the mage. The arcane white flaming eyes were fixed balefully on the mage. Suddenly, the mage’s right hand shot forth, casting a magical orb, the daemon didn’t flinch, but it was not aimed at him. It soared magnificently to the ceiling, even as the daemon and mage watched. The mage muttered a silent prayer, unheeding of the inherent blasphemy of it. There was a sharp detonation, and the orb shattered on the rocky ceiling. Nothing happened.
The daemon whipped it’s head around once more to confront it’s mage, then it’s evil features took on something akin to surprise as there was a groaning. The groaning of rock upon rock. The ceiling quivered, and suddenly it collapsed, showers of rock larger than the mage tumbled down, striking the daemon as it raised it’s arms to protect itself, unwittingly releasing the mage. The mage tumbled, and slowed himself from impact, and got to his feet running quickly to the entrance. A cascade of rocks made him dodge briefly to one side, but he did not slow. A glance behind him saw the powerful daemon crouched upon the ground being slowly pushed down by several tonnes of rock. Rocks and dust crashed about the daemon as it now was in fear of it’s life.
The mage staggered out the entrance, into air, fresh air and sunlight. There was a roar of staggering proportions as there was a final shudder and crash.
The mage smiled grimly, the daemon was now sealed in the cave with his lost brothers, it would be forced to return to it’s own plane.
But the daemon was not truly defeated, only stalled for a time for whatever it’s purpose was. The mage only hoped that next time, there would be someone to truly defeat it. The weary mage sighed, and started off home.
That was great, Alakon. I always have difficulty finding enough adjectives and descriptions to put that much detail into a scene, hence why I rely on dialogue so much. Your imagery was perfect, there wasn't a single thing I couldn't picture vividly in my mind. That poor daemon =(
That makes me feel warm all over just to hear it. I'm so fantastically happy that you said that :xmas4: , cos I always struggle to make these things more vivid for the reader. Which is why I usually lapse into going off on tangents.
And maybe you could teach me to use dialogue more. My characters dont even have names, poor sods.
So thanks for positive feedback.
Now, someone tell me, what was wrong with my story? I'm attempting to create something that will garner me some attention in the Dark library, and I need to improve my writing to make a story really stick in the minds of a reader.
Please?
Mr_Teatime (from here on in, Mr_t), your entry was pretty good. The dialogue made it well rounded. I did notice that your scenes, as you yourself admit, were a little lacking in the detail department. I suggest using high levels of detail when the situation demands it- such as a particularly dramatic part of the fight. As an example, if a death knight draws his runeblade and it fills his enemies with fear, describe it as menacing and whatnot.
There was only one block of your post that I had a significant qualm with.
Quote:
Originally Posted by Mr_T
Selquist jumped through the air and jabbed out with his dagger, piercing the throat of one of the smaller raptors. This maneuver didn’t take it down, but sent it squealing off in pain. Another raptor came up from behind, and a clawed paw raked across his shoulder. Selquist gasped in pain, whirling around and smacking the beast on the nose with all his might, using the diamond-encrusted mace he carried in his left hand. This wasn’t enough, and the raptor roared up with both front paws and knocked Selquist onto his back. The rogue sighed, as he drifted down into another puddle of tar.
This passage struck me as being a little too mechanical. It's not quite vivid enough. I think the problem here is that the flow is a little off. Ways to improve that would be to omit the second sentence and to make one action of the fight blend into the next (I guess what I'm trying to say is don't spend too much time talking about what the raptors do after they get hit unless it is truly important, if they run away, you can save that for the end).
Despite these things, I enjoyed reading your post, and I look forward to more. And no, there is no limit. You can post as many battles as you like.
Now to Alakon.
Quote:
Originally Posted by Alakon
The ancient mage stumbled and fell, the remnants of his half-formed spell falling away from him like shreds of tapestry in the breeze, he half rose to his feet and straightened with monumental effort.
This sentence feels like a run-on to me. In my opinion, you need either a period or semi-colon between "breeze" and "he half rose."
Quote:
Originally Posted by Alakon
but with a mocking laugh, that too was ripped away with a mocking laugh
You repeated yourself here, as you can see.
Quote:
Originally Posted by Alakon
The mage then felt true fear, a numbing terror that swept through his bones and gripped his heart in an icy thrall.
I think the part about "true fear" is unnecessary and a little hackneyed. It would be better, methinks, to just have it read, "A numbing terror swept through his bones and gripped his heart in [its] icy thrall."
Quote:
Originally Posted by Alakon
It was no magic that caused this he knew, the terrible effigy before him was what caused this terrible fear.
I think it would be better to make "It was...this" one sentence, and to consequently make "he knew, the....fear" its own sentence. [Note: I am using elipses to save time, I don't mean you should make the first sentence "It was this."]
Quote:
Originally Posted by Alakon
It’s deep sockets blazed a lazy white fog, and it’s great skull like head swept back to five long blackened horns.
Erm, this doesn't make sense (how can a lazy white fog blaze?). It is in need of some work and revision.
Quote:
Originally Posted by Alakon
“You are doomed, little mage. Your stolen magics shall be returned to whom they belong!” the words were spoken like words of flame, and darkness tainted every word.
I like the demon's line, I don't like "the words were spoken like words of flame." I think you'd be better off dropping that clause.
Quote:
Originally Posted by Alakon
A dozen and a half of the greatest mages had come to challenge this foe who had challenged them at their seat of power, they had came prepared and confident.
This is repetitive and flawed, I'm afraid. There is no need to have "challenge" and then "challenged" in the same sentence. Also, "had came" is grammatically incorrect.
Quote:
Originally Posted by Alakon
It rose above the puny human, as massive and tall as half a hundred of those pitiful humans.
It might be best to just say "fifty." I realize you are trying to emphasize the demon's size, but don't be wordy when you don't have to be.
Quote:
Originally Posted by Alakon
It’s long massive tail lashed and the mage dove back, a shower of rock cascaded above him, but a quick spell of protection saw that he escaped unharmed, a quick succession of bursts erupted from his fingertips and exploded in blue fire against the daemon’s left temple.
This is definitely a run-on sentence. The scene depicted here is vivid, so that's good, but grammar is grammar.
Quote:
Originally Posted by Alakon
But the daemon roared in titanic fury as the dark orb it had manifested in its hand suddenly drew in upon itself and exploded in magical rage, scorching the daemon’s glistening dark body with bright magic.
You often use description well. This is just one sterling example.
Quote:
Originally Posted by Alakon
daemon sudden;y
Woops.
Quote:
Originally Posted by Alakon
Here was a true threat to him.
I'm a little conflicted over the commentary you provide. Honestly, I am not sure how much it adds to the story.
Anyway, I thought the last part of the story was well done, and I think that part of the battle was quite vivid. I look forward to more from you. Oh, and I started to read "Tide of Dragonfire" yesterday, so I will be able to give you feedback eventually. Finally, the Dark Library is still being rebuilt right now, so don't worry too much about it.
Well, I've decided to take a break from the fun of Christmas festivities to post a little battle for you guys. I hope you enjoy it. Merry Christmas.
*******
Endgame
The smoldering remains of Sapphiron lay to the west, scarecely covered up by the fallen remains of mountain-like towers, which only moments before had stood proudly in defense of the Lich King’s icy spire. Just within the inner wall of the stronghold known as Icecrown, Anub’arak had crumpled beneath the might of forty gleaming adventurers, all equiped with the finest arms in all of Azeroth- and in some cases beyond. Most of the Scourge was either destroyed or respawning for later raids, and all that remained was the towering throne of Arthas, called immortal and godlike. A very borad pathway of stone, flanked by a lake of chilled water, led up to the Lich King’s last bastion of power.
Warriors, mages, warlocks, rogues, priests, and paladins marched forth in a well planned formation, and, if one looked upon them, their faces were hardly discernable, either because of the profuse light of their arms, or because they wore helms and battle masks that hid their faces. Traces of undead flesh clung to their weapons, and their tracks were marked with dark blood. At their head was a Night Elf warrior of great stature, whose gigantic sword seemed unwieldable, and whose shield looked big enough for a giant. He was the most eager for battle, and he burned to annihilate the great foe of life, to whon some gave the name “Death.”
Suddenly their minds were struck by an intense weight, a pressure that momentarily confused them, and then continued to make their minds throb. When the lead warrior could see clearly, he beheld, fifty meters away, the surreal image of the Lich King. The tales about him made the actual sight of him strange, almost dreamlike. Nevertheless, his presence was more than just that of an armored human, reaking of death. It was more than just a pair of blazing, azure eyes. The soul of the Lich King stretched out to wherever his underlings were, and now it was assaulting their brains, pressing down on them more and more with every step the fallen prince took. His dreadful march enhanced the pain that racked their minds, and, to the lesser ones, the idea of flight was growing increasingly attractive. At length the King stopped, and his voice resounded everywhere as the mouth of Arthas spoke:
“Thus I am doomed? Powers above have designed this fate for me? Hah! I am sure they expect me to fight my destiny- to use every ounce of my strength to resist the pawns they throw at me. Well, when your pathetic souls flee the magled heaps you once called bodies, tell those who have set up my fall that I am yet too strong. Too great to be undone by a pack of insolent dogs. Too proud to surrender. And too cruel to hold anything back!”
With that a deep blue aura swirled around his form, and raising aloft Frostmourne, he charged forward as mystical light pulsated across his runeblade. The raid leader leapt from the lines roaring and focussing all his energy on the first swing of his gigantic sword. In a flash of light their blades clashed, and the elven warrior smirked as he looked into the metallic crown of the Lich King. “Fool!” Arthas yelled, and it was then that the Milithin saw that Frostmournce had not been stopped by his +50 Epic Titan Sword, but rather the famed runeblade had bitten into his blade, and even now the latter was fissuring. “Quickly surround him!” the warrior screamed as Arthas shattered the Elf’s sword, and seamlessly swung upwards again. Milithin’s gorgeously intricate shield and cuirass fell apart, and the highly trained warrior fell to the ground in two pieces.
By then many other warriors were approaching, their weapons sparkling like stars, and a tide of adventurers was rapidly encircling the infamous traitor. A dissonant chorus of chants rose up onto the winds, like the varying thunder blasts of a gathering storm. Yet as the master of the Scourge effortlessly parried the falling axes of two dwarves, a strange concentation of light formed a ring around him. And, while he jumped from opponent to opponent, beating back blades forged by arcane arts, the ethereal circle instantaneously expanded in a wave of petrifying frost. Those closest to him were encased in several inches of ice, and for a few moments a low din of moans claimed its place on the breeze. Relentlessly, he decimated every frozen champion, cutting them apart with his insatiable sword, whose edges were dripping with a slush of ice and blood.
While relative silence ruled, the liege of once unlimited undead ranks proclaimed, “Pathetic! You knaves aren’t even worthy to be made into ghouls!” Then he chuckled a little to himself, and his already overflowing pride managed to redouble its efforts to break the record in arrogance. But the rage of the remaining heroes surged all the more, and from the beaten down ranks charged a female human, whose lithe limbs betrayed the stregnth behind them, in a way thought only true in fantasies. As her high pitched battle cry reached Arthas’s royal ears, lights and oscilating spells coalesced about her sleak armor, and she poured forth all her power into her claymore. Her spectacular weapon cut through the air and rushed towards the collar of the Lich King. The spell casters’ hopes ran high as they prepared new spells, and other figthers were in the midst of recovering their senses, when her sword collided with Frostmourne- and did not break. Instead she strove with all her might against his parry, and for a moment her confidence swelled within her chest. However, he took one of his hands away from the runeblade’s hilt, and with the same ominous voice whose echo seemed eternal, he said with an open palm shoved forward, “Frostcone.” With that a triangular pulse of frigid blue knocked her away, and the cool light flowed down her throat. She skidded across the ground, and the sound of her insides breaking apart was not at all drowned out by her last, dying whimper.
Desperately, warriors, paladins and rogues gathered themselves up, creating a thin ring around the Lich King, who now appeared to be somewhat bored. The adventurers frantically called for spells and the destructive powers of the arcane. Hunters loaded elaborate rifles, and others knocked bows of mythical beauty. Some whispered among themselves that this might be a glitch, or that the mighty lord of Northrend had a buggy mind. Swiftly, the hope grew in some that this apparent opportunity would win them great honor and renown as the group that had slain the corrupt adversary of life. Yet, Arthas’s jaded stare, which bordered on complete indifference, had intentionally sown falsehood, baiting his foes into further battle, when only flight held any chance for surivival.
A cocophonous din of converging eruptions instaneously roared from the layers of cascading spells that were rapidly ripping through the wind and appearing around the motionless Lich King. From the sky’s wide axis there also blazed four meteors, green in hue, and as the final blast of whirling flame crescendoed around Arthas’s still figure, they collided with the ground. The pathway shook, and for a few seconds, as the Infernals rose up, nothing could be seen except smoke and shadow. When the wind again picked up and blow away the column of darkness, the figthers were shocked to see that the King truly was no longer there. It was not long, though, before, they heard the shrieks of their spell casters. A paladin of distinguished rank, a marshall in Stormwind’s army, turned to see the fountains of blood leaping up from the robed corpses of his collapsing comrades. The Lich King was teleporting from group to group, cutting down wizard and warlock without discretion or compassion.
And the paladin, along with his guild mates, then realized, too late, that they wouldn’t be the first ones to overcome the last great challenge of this world, if anyone ever could.
Dudeness
Sneaky sneaky
Linear Mode
