Tag: Spoilers x 7

“This armor does not fit properly,” Fhaliona complained to the Dwarf beside her, tugging at the neck with a gloved hand and making an exasperated face. “How am I supposed to fight when I don't have range of motion?”

The Dark Iron peered up at her with a chuckle. “Yer not goin' tae be fightin'. We're jus' goin' tae talk tae 'im, ye ken?” Moraghlioda turned her eyes down to the Lightforged's leg. “Yer not s'posed tae strain that anywho, jus' walkin' an' exercisin' it. And yer proper armor needs repairin'.”

“Yeah, yeah, more 'stay out of trouble',” the warrior sighed. “I swear everyone thinks I actually have a death wish.” She picked at the armor again and spoke more softly. “Do you really think this is going...

The unknown paladin swiftly but carefully took the warrior back to the medic camp outside the city walls. Fhaliona would have complained had she not blacked out from blood loss. Her colleagues who were assisting the wounded took in the new casualty with shock. The large Lightforged from the war camp rushed over. “What happened?!”

The Human paladin set Fhaliona down gently and scoffed, “This idiot tried to take on Saurfang alone. She's lucky she made it out with only a leg wound.”

“Dear Light,” the Draenei muttered just barely under his breath, scooping Fhaliona up and taking her to the nearest medic while the Human returned to the battle. He would scold her later when she'd regained consciousness. A Dwarven medic...

The Lightforged woke well before dawn. She had not slept much the eve before their march, but this was normal for one haunted by the things she'd seen and done. At least today, the spirits and voices of the past would be kept silent. She began pulling on her clothing, first linen and then layers of leather that protected her skin from the heavy plate. She drew back the tent flap and took one last deep breath of fresh air. There was a very large chance she would not make it out of this battle alive; a deep sense of foreboding told Fhaliona that the Warchief once again had something up her sleeve.

“Endal no Talah,” a Kaldorei addressed her with some reverence as she exited the tent. Fhaliona regarded the Elf with a nod and made her...

The Azarite War Machine swept across the field, destroying the siege towers as Anduin Wrynn, boy-king of the Alliance, in his glistening armor lead the march from atop his grand warhorse with that wolf ever at his side.

“Prepare the blight! Let it rain down upon their armies!” Sylvanas Windrunner ordered from her place on the wall.

“There must be another way, Warchief,” Saurfang objected.

The Dark Lady turned away. “This is no time for sentiment, High Overlord. War demands that we take a more direct approach.”

Bess could not believe her ears. Their own forces were down there! This was madness! She looked to Saurfang with questioning eyes, and the old orc turned to the druid. “I don't care what you have to do, get as...

Tapping his foot on the decimated ground beneath him, the Ren'dorei shifted his grip on the dagger at his side as he stood just to the left of the opening to his charge's tent. The middle aged man, named Garrett, rustling around inside caused Dizarak's ears to flick as he gauged the human's whereabouts within.

Finally the dark haired human emerged from the canvas flaps of the tent and scowled openly at his “babysitter” his gloves clutched in his hand.

“You don't have to stay so close to me, I can take any of these savage Horde with ease!” Garrett spewed , slipping his glove onto the wrong hand and immediately ripping it back off to correct his mistake. He finished the process and unsheathed his sword, swinging it around and...