Eleeria Silverwing

Shadowfang Keep

As many thousand as the Eleventh Legion had on Kalimdor, they seemed to have twice that amount in Silverpine. For every line that Eleeria and the combined archers of the Horde and the Warband’s Fifth Cohort managed to down, another rose to take its place. They seemed to be endless – and though the Forsaken stationed in their homeland were tireless, the Fifth Cohort were not. The constant barrage of attacks from the Alliance both day and night frayed the nerves of the living combatants. By the second day of nonstop assault, it made even the undead nervous. Eleeria moved through the injured, a Dreadguard Captain handling the allied movement on the walls for the moment to bring the living General a reprieve. And although he would never admit as such, her positive attitude was sorely needed among the injured.

“I know it hurts. Let me fix it, then you can get back to fighting after a few minutes’ rest.” Callused and bloodied hands hovered over an orc’s leg, magic pouring into the injury. Normally, she would not expend so much magic on a single broken leg – but she needed people back on the wall as soon as possible. Men and women were screaming and flailing around her, breathing their last breaths in a room full of blood and shit. Such was the way of a busy infirmary, with no time to clean between bodies hitting the cots and straw. Seeing bone and muscle mend, she patted the man on the shoulder and stood, moving through the infirmary with haste to head back towards the wall. Though the world was nothing but screaming and death in their makeshift healers’ ward, people still seemed to pause and stare. That’s General Silverwing. She took Northwatch. She was there when we held the Keep the first time. Eleeria could hear the words murmured nearby, and slowed enough to check in on the patients nearby who were conscious.

“How are you feeling?” Golden eyes met those of an undead; the woman grinned with half-missing teeth, offering a thumbs up.

“Right as rain, General! Just was missing a hand, but I got another one fast. Heard tell I’ve got you to thank for the supplies they brought with all the new body parts.”

“That you do.” Eleeria smiled despite herself. Forsaken were always so much easier to speak to than anyone else; perhaps she spent too much time with the Royal Apothecary Society and her wife, but they were more approachable than elves and less obsessed with proving she was an utter failure, like the rest of the races of the Horde. As if being an elf automatically disqualified her age and experience, reduced to nothing but the length of her ears and her choice of clothing. The Forsaken took everything in stride, with the candidness granted to those who had already seen the grave. Eleeria appreciated it. “Put it to good use when the menders clear you, aye?”

“Aye, General!”

Eleeria nodded as the Forsaken woman saluted with her new appendage, and stopped a few more bunks to check on the soldiers before she made her way into the courtyard and up the stairs to the wall. The lieutenant in charge of the archers and apothecaries stationed there offered a salute; Eleeria waved it away, stepping close to wall to survey the ongoing siege. The Eleventh Legion continued to attempt to pick off the archers and alchemists, along with building up siege weaponry to take down the walls. Eleeria glared at the humans running along outside of the Keep.

“Have they been at this all night?” She shifted her head to ask the lieutenant hovering behind her. The elven man seemed eager to show how much he had learned and could show to the small woman; despite the fact that he could easily dwarf her in size, her personality seemed to carry weight and strength of its own, enough that it made even those taller than her seem small when she was in her element.

“Yes, General. They seem to rotate out on shifts, bringing in fresh soldiers when the ones that work during the day tire.” He shakes his head, sighing softly. “Those siege weapons seem almost finished. Probably another hour or so and we’ll need to think about–”

“GET DOWN!” Eleeria’s eyes widened as a volley of fire and arcane shot at the walls, a magic-infused test shot from one of the siege machines. She managed to shove the lieutenant to the ground, the man’s helm hitting the stone with a clang. Eleeria hissed in pain as her armor melted and flesh sizzled from contact with the barrage of magic. She slapped her hand to it and stood, light magic healing what it could in the immediate aftermath as she offered her other hand to the lieutenant. “You alright?”

“Y-yes ma’am, what was–”

But Eleeria was not taking questions at the moment about whatever that blast had been infused with. Her attention was already on the men and women reeling on the wall. “Take down that siege machine!” Her voice rose over the din, Orcish sharp. “NOW!”

“Yes, General!” The call came from the engineers on the wall, as alchemists scrambled to give back what they had received in turn. Eleeria herself ran to help, carrying reagents to the waiting artillery – some of E’risse’s makes, she noted with slight pride for her friend. Her entire face, shoulder, and neck stung to the hells and back from the heat of the burn – but she didn’t have time to see to it. Even those medics down below who had been working on patients could be seen running out, streaming for the walls. Anyone but the most critically injured could live for the moment. They needed continued magical support on the walls, quickly.

She couldn’t think about how many would die because they didn’t have enough healers to split the duties. Not right now.

“They haven’t beaten us yet!” Eleeria continued to offer support, even as the walls trembled slightly with new attacks from the Alliance. “We can still hold them! Redouble our efforts to take down those siege engines; we’ll show them who the better engineers are!”

“How long do we fight them?” There– a tremulous query from down the wall, though Eleeria did not catch the person who uttered it. Silence held for a moment after the terrified statement, as if waiting for Eleeria’s reply. She took a breath, pushing force and as much optimism as she could muster in this desperate hour into her voice as she stood tall. Her eyes met several of the men standing near her; a few glanced away, ashamed. As if Eleeria’s mere presence reminded them that they ought to fight harder, do better.

“We fight them as long as it takes to win. Now go! For the Horde!”

The scream of siege engines did not drown out the roar of support as people rallied to the call.