Welcome to Gaia! ::

Asinity:

He had prepared them as best he could. Weapons were chosen, armor was buckled and strapped, and field operations had been discussed. If there was anything left for him to do, it was to prepare himself mentally for the challenge that now faced him. The blond-haired knight, just a couple inches above six feet, stood tall in his white and gold field plate armor. A gilded, roaring lion’s head and mane were crafted into metalwork of the front of the breastplate, and the hinges of his pauldrons, gauntlets, greaves, and boots were all gilded as well. The rest of the surface metal was enameled white, and he wore a long, white bear-fur cloak that draped over his pauldrons. Resting upon the man’s shoulder was the haft of his two-handed great-hammer, Aethroc, which bore a head almost as large as the knight’s chest.

Given the command of a small unit of paladins, Ser Asinity Daes’vega had advised his men to meet him at the Argent Vanguard, just a mile south of a great battle that was to take place upon the eve. The fortress was small by any means; four towers protected three gates that led into the compound, and a force of about thirty or forty men were sprawled about inside. There was no keep, but a raised platform where a commander had a view of the open valley that led north, into the breach to Scourgeholme. Though, however small it was, this was the only foothold the forces of the Argent Crusade had gained within Icecrown. If all turned out well this evening, it would not be the only one.

As he had hoped, most of the men he would be commanding were already there, double-checking their gear and talking amongst themselves. Their breaths steamed the air in front of their mouths as they spoke, even though most of them were heavily clad in leathers and plate mail. It was a cold evening, and it would be colder yet.

“Jorryn,” Ser Asinity began, riding up to the group, on the back of his brown riding wolf. He greeted a young elf like himself, whom he had charged to lead half of those he commanded. Lifting one foot, he swung it over his wolf’s saddle, and dismounted, handing the reigns over to a crusader that had strolled up to meet him.

"My thanks, friend.” He smiled, turning back to the elf he had addressed. She was only recently named a Warden of a group he commanded, called the “Lion’s Pride”. It was a faith-based military unit and relief organization rolled into one, and was also a mere arm of another larger guild. Asinity had chosen her to lead half of his following, he would have said, because of her skill. In truth, she seemed to hold the brightest spark of tenacity, he thought, and he always valued a fiery personality. If they encountered half the horrors that were among the whispers of the men tonight, he hoped her fire would remain burning against them the longest.

They exchanged silent smiles, and Asinity pulled the hood of his cloak over his head, just as a brisk wind picked up and stirred his bangs. He took a few steps closer and lifted his voice, above the wind.

“We’re not missing anyone, hopefully?” Asinity asked, his eyes falling upon his companions.

Ohnia:
At times like this, it was as though there were voices inside her head. Ohnia knew they were nothing more than her own cluttered thoughts; cluttered, tired thoughts brought on by her lack of sleep and the simple fact that she was both empty and completely overwhelmed by all the efforts being put forth with and for the Bronze. Her thoughts were usually hateful and cold, bitter ones that came without bidding. Ones she was usually able to silence with patience and determination, and only rarely did her concerns or worries seem to get the better of her.

She'd almost not heard En'Aiel's parting words. Under her dark helm, her eyes narrowed as she acknowledged his words with the barest of nods. Both of them were quite aware that were they discovered, they would know suffering conjured by some of the most creative minds the King's forces had to offer. She remembered less and less of her time in His control, but she did know that of failure and traitors, neither was tolerated. "If you are to die," she murmured quietly toward the other Death Knight, "Then die well." Her eyes held fast to the goings-on around her, lest any indication be given that she or her companion did not belong. She didn't like that; En'Aiel was the deceiver, not she. Eagerness for action was gnawing on her incessantly. Wielding her mace was as natural to her as breathing, she had little doubt she would be capable of blending in perfectly while fighting, at least until it was time to turn on the Scourge.

Beneath her, the Deathcharger shuddered eagerly. She had considered another beast, but this one was suitable. It had seen battle under her command many times, it knew its purpose and performed it well. It had once been a beautiful palamino stallion before being corrupted. Sometimes she wondered if it remembered such times, when all it had to do was eat, fight and sleep. To see it, to hear its shrill and almost painful shrieks she could guess it did not. It knew only its bloodlust, seemed comfortable in this new, twisted shell.

A little distractedly she found herself tugging at the cuff of her gauntlet. Was that what she wore? A twisted shell, one she had long since shed? Why, then, had she paid so much attention to seeing to it that the armor was shone and oiled. The Gnome had seemed unsurprised that she'd taken such good care of the set, while she could have simply discarded or destroyed it. Why -had- she kept it. For infiltrations such as this one?

Doubtful. Truth be told, the day she walked from Thrall's chamber in search of Asinity Daes'vega she had expected that to be the last. Each day since then, she'd decided, was simply a bonus.

Perhaps, she thought, as she rode and turned her head briefly to see if En'Aiel had gone yet, she had kept her armor for this day.

For this day, to die in.

Jet:

He had been ready since well before dawn. Armour and weapons checked and re-checked, every muscle taut and ready - and yet there was still nothing to do.

Perpetually cold breath curled from his lips as he stood atop a hill, staring down at the figures milling about below him, wearing a mild expression of disgust. A gauntleted hand rested on the shoulder of his Deathcharger at his side, the beast seeming as restless as he. From behind him came an excited squeal as his ghoul found a squirrel, followed by a scuffle, and then the squelching of the undead thing eating it. Unfortunately for it, the Death Knight's fell magicks uncoalesced a moment later, resulting in a lurid gurgle as the thing fell apart. A macabre chuckle, twisted into a frigid nightmare, rolled from the unholy knight as the ghoul's head - partially consumed rodent still trapped within its maw - bounced past his feet and down the hill into the camp. In one motion, smooth with repitition, the knight grabbed the reigns and swung up into the saddle from the side. With hardly any prompting, the undead horse started down the other side of the hill at a canter, heading for the officers' camp.

The anticipation of a fight always charged the frosted blood within his veins. Especially ones that proved to evolve into pitched battle. There were some that relished that feeling; the electricity in the air, the atmosphere practically humming with energy made the morning before that much more exciting. There was nothing arcane about it, just the prescience of nerves, and of weapons soon to be unleashed.
To him, it was as nothing. That wan current was but an ephemeral tease.
It was during the battle itself where he could release. Where forces of violence manipulated sentient beings into primal, brutal creatures. Bloodlust, rage, vengeance, zeal, even justice. They were all but excuses for the need to unleash the sepulchrally satisying feeling of crushing an opponent to dust and gore. There was also the added bonus of those wonderful fragments of ardour. Flashes of memories that flooded his mind whenever battle was joined and his axe met steel or flesh or bone. Tendrils of warmth that were as fleeting as they were . . .

"Hey, boy, why are you-- Oh."

The knight regarded the elf who had interrupted his train of thoughts, images that had obfuscated his vision fled as mist against the sun. He was used to the mistake, by now. Not very tall, and surprisingly youthful in appearance, it was an easy to error to make. At least before meeting his gaze. There was no misplacing the gelid light emanating from the eyes of a Death Knight. It could still annoy him, however, especially when he was in so black a mood. He levelled the elf with a glare, whose expression turned from chagrin to pathos as the usual "tragic" thoughts filtered into her predictable little head after seeing a Death Knight so young.

"Er... Sorry."

"Get on with it, then."

"R-right. Do you know your CO?"

"Asinity Daes'vega."

Without hestiation, she pointed him in the direction of his superior. He did not look back as his Deathcharger brushed past the guard. Muscles twitching, he scanned the faces of the crowd. He could feel battle was almost come, and he was glad for it.

Asinity:

The blond-haired Paladin gave a stern nod, his eyes narrowing against the biting wind. He cast a long gaze at his members, then followed Jorryn's gaze north.

"Very well. Vanir will come, one way or another. However, the rest of you..." He began, raising his voice and turning to those gathered before him.

"Know that you have already fulfilled your obligation to the people of this world, by being here. You few that stand before the doorstep of chaos and destruction, stand before it with the strength of lions. I could not ask for better men and women to fight beside me against the tide of battle that threatens us. From what was once but a small idea upon the frame of my mind, you have now become a reality. You are students of faith and partisans of righteousness. You are my lions of zeal and tenacity. As brothers and sisters, we shall enter the fray in battle against the gutless Scourge. We will give them no respite, for our strength and power is undeniable.

"I have waited long for this moment, my Pride. I have waited to taste battle upon the snows of Icecrown, against the Coward King and his Broken Army. Today, I WAIT NO LONGER."

Asinity raised his voice into a fierce yell, and lowered the hood of his cloak. He grasped Aethroc with both hands and banged the haft against his breastplate.

"Today, we will shatter their bones and break their lines with fear and the power of our faith! Giants will come to their aid, and dragons; but they will falter and fall before us because -our- power is greater! They may outnumber us as this eve, but they cannot hope to match our skill in battle, and our courage against adversity."

Cocking his head to the side, the white-armored Paladin gave a shrill whistle, and his riding wolf loped up behind him. His eyes, however, remained scanning his members.

"We shall join the ranks of Highlord Tirion Fordring and -take- Crusader's Pinnacle as our own. Call your mounts forward, my warriors. We ride to the Breach, and then on to hell."


---


In the moonlight, the armies of the Argent Crusade gleamed brightly against the gathering force of darkness to the east in Scourgeholme. Banners rippled against the wind, bearing their symbol of a golden sunbust outlined in black, against a white field. Asinity was proud to see the multitude of races bearing the Crusade's colors, as tauren stood alongside night elves, and dwarves along with his own blood elves. At the center of this force stood the man with a legend greater than all that surrounded him, bearing the famed Ashbringer. Highlord Tirion Fordring looked like a bull of a man on top of his chestnut horse, Mirador. The highest elevated members of the Crusade gathered around him on their own mounts, and Asinity would have joined them gladly. His place, however, was not with them. It was with his men, his Pride, and his loyalty to his men was fierce.

They had stopped at the exit of the Breach briefly to view the battlefield, but they did not linger long. However, they made note of the Sky Darkeners to the rear of the main force, and the trebuchets and catapults the Scourge had also brought along. Asinity looked skyward, and had hoped to see the dwarven gryphon riders and their storm hammers, but there was nothing but a black sky to behold.

Now he stood a few lines back from the forward line of the Argent Crusade force, alongside Sir Vajine De'Uden and his cousin, Sir Tyranithos Sunstriker. The battle would be coming soon, they knew. Scourge began marching towards the Pinnacle from Scourgeholme, undisciplined and in no plausible formation. A man in the front lines spat at them, and another clamored his sword against his shield defiantly. However, the men were tense, and Asinity could not blame them. There had not been a battle of this scale since Light's Hope had been attacked. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end, but it was not out of fear. Ever since he marched through the Breach with his companions, he felt a certain part of his youth flare up in him, that he had not felt for some years. He felt his fire, again.

The echoes beat louder with every approach, and the ground shook in response. To his left, Asinity spied Jorryn and the rest of his Pride. With a knowing smile, he gave a nod and cleared his throat.

"Vajine, Tyranithos...let us spill blood together this day, for our city and the fallen men that gave our race a name. For Silvermoon." He smiled.

Loud creaks began sounding as the enemy's siege equipment was being moved forward behind the main force. Asinity saw a cloaked figure with cruel barbed gauntles and a barbed helm point at the Pinnacle with a shout, and the Scourge broke into a run. The tense grip upon the men faded instantly as the Highlord's voice boomed over them.

"FOR THE LIGHT!" He yelled, and pointed Ashbringer at the coming Scourge.

Asinity looked back and glanced at the Crusade's archers dipping their arrows in flaming braziers, their commander at the center. However, just as the commander opened their mouth to give a command, they were drowned out by an echoing groan. The blond Paladin looked quickly to the northeast in apprehension.

"Flesh giants..." A man whispered near him. Asinity grunted. The Highlord gave a bellow of a laugh, and spurred his horse forward, his cavalry following at his sides. The Scourge were no more than fifty yards away. A brief moment was all they had left.

In that last moment, Asinity charged forward, gripping Aethroc tightly in both hands. Eyes burning brightly with the holy flame of the Light, he raised his voice to match the Highlord's own, calling to his brothers and sisters.

"Now, my warriors!" He began, as he lunged forward. "YOU FACE SEVERITY INCARNATE, FOES OF THE LIGHT!"

Vuel:

"Just in time."

Vuel watched far above, powerful magic hiding him and his companion from view. Atop a great Bronze Dragon, the two watched the unfolding battle. Vuel had the greatest respect for the men at the Pinnacle, Crusaders and Symphony members alike, and a strange feeling of conviction as he watched his past self join the fray. "I fell many Scourge during that battle. We were like an unstoppable force against the dead." Vuel remembered, shifting on the great Dragon's back. "A valiant force, a righteous assault." The Dragon said, his eyes watching Vuel down below.

In the thick of battle, Vuel quickly jumped into the thick of battle, his hands on a powerful tome. Surrounded by the Undead, he lifted the tome high, it's binding opening and Holy Light shinning forth. The hideous undead suddenly began to burn with holy fire, as the ground beneath them became consecrated. Glad this trinket is still useful! he thought to himself as he pulled out his bow, notching an arrow. Pausing at the multiple targets ahead of him, he notched two more arrows and took aim. Now, find Asinity and the others. We're a greater force together. . .

Jet:

(( This post ended up being rather large, sorry. I have been thinking about this for weeks. Also, consider it your somewhat late introduction to Lennek. ))

His body felt like sand. Every muscle taut and ready; every nerve charged and limber. Veritably twitching with anticipation, his hands fidgeting with the reigns of his Deathcharger, waiting impatiently for the call to charge. The Death Knight sat in his saddle, eyes ablaze with battle lust cold and dead as steel. He would become an instrument of death itself, returning the desecration that was the "life" stuffed within the shells that were Scourge bodies. These legions did not scream, beg for mercy, or break rank, but that would only made things more fun. There would be no time to pause and think, only to act.
Finally, after what seemed an eternity of pointless waiting, watching as the seething mass of undeath roiled towards them, he heard what he had been waiting for. Battle cries, horns of battle, commands to charge. All of it was nothing but a vocalization of death. And he would be its hand.

With the barest motions of intent, his mount broke into a canter, as silent as he. Neither had need for yells or prayers for victory. At a slight nudge from its rider, the charger broke off from the main force and angled sharply, cutting down the side of a hill in a slide, and using the momentum to trample over the first few unlucky undead that were in its way. There were no ranks in the legion, no formations. While most of the zombies and skeletons were marching up towards the Pinnacle and the force that protected it, the Death Knight charged into an exposed flank. Weapons in hand, he hacked at any deformed body or bone that came close enough without falling under the hooves of his steed. They paid him little heed.
Glancing up, he saw a cluster of nerubians making their way towards the main group. A cold smirk played over his face, and his Deathcharger moved to intercept without waiting for a command. He lifted himself from the saddle, climbing upon it into a crouch, balancing there while his steed charged the group of spiders. Apparently, they hadn't seem him, yet.
Moments before the charger collided with the closest spider, it skidded to a halt. At the same moment, Lennek leapt from the saddle, vaulting him in an uncontrolled but graceful spin over their heads. The ground beneath the spiders shuddered into movement, crackling with pure virulence as the very earth vomited clouds of noxious death. Angered and confused, the spiders stopped their march. In time to watch Lennek land on the lead nerubian weapons-first, slicing its head into ribbons. He went down with the spasming of already-dead limbs, rolling to his feet as the remaining things charged him. Standing, the Death Knight grinned, waiting for them to get close.
His blades became a blur of blood and bone, his body moving with near-imperceptable speed, simultaneously ducking a claw as his left hand swung overhead to sever the limb, the axe in his right hand swinging to parry a bite at his shoulder, the tip on its head burying into the mouth of his attacker. Finding an opportune moment, he left the axe buried in the thing's face, nimbly leaping atop it and using it as a springboard, propelling himself towards another of the nerubians, angling himself between its swinging claws dripping poison and passing the sword to his right hand. Nearing the ugly mandibles, he jammed the weapon down into its flesh and used it as a fulcrum to pull himself up and over it, sliding down its back. As he fell, he twisted to look behind him, his eyes pulsing with frost as a wave of violent, gelid wind, howling with the fury of the north blasted right through the nerubian, continuing out on the other side without losing any force, driving into the other spiders.
He landed hard on his back, rolling to his feet in time to see his Deathcharger plant a vicious rear kick into the bulk of one of the remaining, half-frozen nerubians, shattering its chest into shards and filling the air around it with flecks of floating flesh like snowflakes. The last remaining spider screetched and charged him. Pulling the two-headed axe from his back, Lennek watched the thing approach with a cool smirk. As the thing attacked high, he swung his body around and bent backwards, watching the claws swing overhead. Using his own momentum, he pulled the axe around into a brutal downward chop, cleanly severing two of the beast's legs. When the thing shrieked and toppled forward, the Death Knight barely slowed, lowering his right shoulder and rolling over the falling body of the small spider.

In that moment of clarity, time slowed in the quiet din of now-joined battle far to his left, Lennek's field of view was mostly the sky. An off-hand part of his mind noted the dark, swirling stormclouds above him, punctuated by flashes of sorcery and fire. The churning maelstrom overhead seemed to reflect something, as shards of warm memories pierced his mind from every side, like they normally did when he was in battle. But now, he required focus. He needed to watch--
Something hovering on the edge of hauntingly familiar caught his gaze. Landing on his feet behind the injured spider, he swung his axe behind him distractedly, slicing the creature's hide open and leaving it to its death throes as he searched for what had fired icicles of recognition through his mind.
There, behind the wall of putrid, oozing flesh that was several huge Abonimations, he found a mounted a Death Knight. Not just any Death Knight, either. A slow, turgid smile spread across his face. It was Lurial, a Forsaken Knight with whom he had argued and sparred most often while under the Lich King's control. It seemed she had not deigned to liberate herself. Lennek decided it was now time to make that mistake fatal, and to end the rivalry.
He never noticed that the female Death Knight was barking orders, pointing with furious intent as ghostly shades approached her and moved to deliver messages and commands. Never bothered to note the chevrons on her epaulets denotating that she was now a General of the Lich King's army.

Reaching out with ethereal fingers, he grasped the first bodiless soul that floated near him, and plunged it into a nearby skeleton through sheer force of will. The construct shuddered, but after a wordless glare from the Death Knight, remained still on the ground. The battleaxe still in his left hand, his right extended slowly, then snapped into motion, curling a jagged whip of nightmarish darkness around the shoulders of the Forsaken, yanking her off her mount and towards the Blood Elf. Surprise, then recognition dawned in her lifeless gaze, followed quickly by anger. Before Lennek could drop his axe on her head, he felt thick, black tendrils of slick death constrict about his neck and into his mouth. He staggered to a knee, trying to force breath through the inky substance. Even as he struggled to recover, he could feel freezing chains of gossamer ice crawling up his body, locking him to the ground.
"You always were so stupid, Elf." She spat, not even bothering to attack as all four huge Abominations were now lumbering towards them at speeds unimaginable for such girth. "Honestly, what is with you caring about these weak Living. There is no point to our existance. Why would you waste it on such trash?"
The Abominations almost upon him, Lennek looked up, his fury frosting the very air as they approached. He exhaled deeply, and with him, the nearby earth itself shuddered, and exhaled every ounce of heat. Flesh cracked, then solidified as all traces of heat vanished, causing the flesh giants to halt their movement in a macabre moment of malefic beauty, paused in time. Lennek stood, breaking the chains with a few strong yanks, the slick darkness falling from his body.
"I do so, Sister," he growled, coughing as the runic sludge cleared from his lungs, "Because I choose to. A function you are clearly incapable of."
"Enough!" Shrieked Lurial, pulling the spear from her back. "I will end this myself!"
They lunged at each other, two blurs of arctic blue, clashing, parting, and clashing again. Though only a handful of heartbeats passed, it seemed as though a hundred exchanges, parries, and blocks rang out and added their voices to the din of battle. Neither Knight could find purchase. When he swung low, she leapt over the strike and stabbed down to his shoulder, just as he rolled out of the way. When he tried to close the distance, coming inside of her range, he would get the butt of her spear in the face, causing him to lose ground. When he tried to sever the head of her spear, she retracted it with dizzying speed, then extended it again with such precision as to have him frantically parrying with the back of his gauntlet.
Growling in frustration, and realizing the golems were shuddering, flecks of ice falling from their skin like shedding snowmen, Lennek planted his feet and lowered his weapon, extending an arm. Wind howled over his shoulder and rent the air towards the Forsaken Knight with blistering force. Raising her pike defensively, she bore through the blast, eyes shining with impending victory. Lennek dashed to his right as the howl was finished, purposely moving just a little too slow, arm out wide, preparing for a strike. Crying out in glee at finding an opening, the Forsaken Knight thrust her spear forward, punching through the armour and into flesh. Grunting with the hit, Lennek didn't even feel the pain, instead revelling in morose victory as the expression on Lurial's half-dead face rotted from triumph to horror, as the sacrifice feint was revealed for what it was. The young Death Knight sheathed the foreblade of his axe with runic energy, which blossomed into a huge shard of ice sharp enough to shear titanium, then swung in a brutal diagonal strike down at his rival's shoulder. Abandoning the spear still embedded in the other Knight, Lurial backpedalled and lifted her shoulder defensively, but the imbued shard was too wide, and too sharp. It sunk right through her raised shoulder and partially through her chest with a wet 'thud'. Letting out a weak moan that was mostly a gurgle, Lurial's cold eyes dimmed into darkness even as she slumped over onto her knees, dead before she came to rest there.
Letting go of the axe, the Death Knight yanked the spear from his abdomen with a pained gasp, and pressed a hand to the wound to stem the bloodflow. He reached for the connection to his summoned ghoul. It was weak, but it was still there. Giving a swift tug, he pulled the spirit from the skeleton and into his own, feeling the rush of life returning to him as the soul was consumed. He hadn't realized it, but he had taken many more wounds than just the one, so it only mended barely.
Planting a boot on the former Death Knight's corpse, he grabbed the hilt of his axe and yanked with both hands, grunting as it tore free and made a gory mess of the body. He didn't give it a second look. Instead, he backed up, finding his Deathcharger had come around behind him, and put his back to the creature's flank. Panting, trying to ignore the throbbing coming from his midsection, he wielded the axe with both hands and watched as four huge, angry looking golems of putrid bile-filled skin finally shambled free of their frost prison and hulked towards him, multiple arms flailing weapons dangerously.
The small smirk on his features did not touch his eyes, as he prepared himself for the coming attacks.
"Ah, Lady Death, you come for me, at last. How sweet with your final embrace truly be?"

Zevron:

"Nice to see you made it" Tyranithos grinned Noticing the boy as he bashed his shield into the face of an oncomming Skeletal warrior. The Sunstriker family crest shining brightly upon it as it connected. "I was begining to fear i'd have to watch my own flanks". A sharp chuckle escaping the Blood Knight's mouth.

Quickly, he thrusted his father's shortsword into the ribcage of the bashed warrior and snapped to attention as holy light exploded from the tip, destroying the Skeleton from inside out. Tyranithos gazed around him quickly, Seeing Aelwyn his trusted Squire and the young boy with the massive great shield.
"Just hold your ground for now until told otherwise" he shouted, giving orders to the two young paladins to his side.

An axe nearly grazed his ear.

Tyranithos turned with Righteous fury, his eyes looking upon his new Foe. This Skeleton was larger then the ones around it, Massive black armor covering the chest and shoulders. "Light Give me Strength!" Tyranithos called out, as he attempted to block the next swing. The hit connected and Tyr pushed back with all his strength toppling over the Skeletal Brute. Following up, he stabbed downward with his shortsword, but only connected with dirt, as the Brute rolled out of the way. Odd, Usually skeletons don't fight like that. He thought, as he switched his footing to plan for the next attack, but no attack came.

The skeletal brute motioned to the minions all around him, as they started moving towards the young Paladins at his side. Tyr turned his head to shout a command "Aelwyn, Lukein brac----" His words were cut off as the Skeletal brute barreled into him, pushing him far back, away from the two paladins under his watch. Attempting to not be knocked down, Tyr pushed back. Neither Blood Elf nor Skeleton budged. This is not a game i can play for long, I will tire shortly, and Undead know no Fatigue . Tyr ducked down suddenly, And pushed against the Skeleton's bony knees. They both fell. Rolling quickly, Tyr secured his footing, however it seemed the Skeleton was quicker, already in mid attack. Pushing forward with his shield Tyr crashed into the monster, flinging the brute's axe out of his hands and skidding across the battlefield.

"Master Sunstriker!" the call came from Aelwyn, she had been surounded by around five warriors. One on one, she was good enough to fight them, however not like this.

"Hold Fast Aelwyn I'll be right there!" he tried calling to her. There was no time, he quickly charged his hand with Holy light, and placing the hand on his shield, the Crest began to turn a bright gold. Without a moments hesitation, he unstrapped the shield and flung it in the direction Aelwyn's voice had been comming from.

Light Guide my Aim

Sure enough it did, the shield hit the first target, ripping right through it into the next warrior and so on, until only one remained facing the young Paladin. His shield however skidded across the ground after hitting the fourth one. She should be able to handle the last one

Tyranithos now turned his attention back to the Brute who now seemed to have vanished from the front line. Three more skeletons popped up to take his place however. Gripping the hilt on his father's worn shortsword he readied himself when a thought came through his head.

Lukein

Tyr had been seperated from him while fighting the brute. He glanced around quickly, searching. There!. The boy stand, three Skeletal Minions being held at bay by the boys massive great shield. At that moment, Tyranithos noticed that the boy was unarmed save a shield.

"Only one option." Tyr said to himself trying not to waste time deliberating.

"Lukein!" He called out, as he noticed the boy look towards him. "Catch!" he tossed the shortsword over the heads of the warriors between them and watched the boy catch it with a small look of confusion in his eyes. Tyranithos simply nodded at the boy as he turned back to the front line. The skeletons seemed to understand that now the Knight was unarmed. Or so they thought. As Three of them charged Tyr, he just grinned, taking out what looked to only be a piece of metal, no bigger then the hilt of a greatsword. He slamed the bottom of the metal against the side of his Leg plates, and suddenly the other end extended about 4 feet, and then expanded 6 inches on either side.

His first creation as an Engineer, His Ez-Store Greatsword. Just as fast as the contraption came out, he was swinging it at the three approaching minnions, Cleaving them all in two with just a simple swing.

This is going to be a tough fight......

He charged deeper into the fray.

Terok:

"Darken the skies with Saronite, my minions! Let not one wretched ray of sunlight shine through upoon the Pinnacle!"

En'Aiel perched quietly behind an outcropping of rock. Luckily the skeletal archers had not seen him, or his body would already be riddled with Saronite Arrows. Orithos the Sky-Darkener's voice was deep and ominous, both booming and whispering at the same time. He imagined that in life, Orithos had been the captain of some gallant human Cadre of Archers, striking fear into the hearts of the Orcish Horde just as he was doing to all of Free Life presently. The large skeleton's movements were more fluid than his form would make seemingly plausable.

This one's for you Sin, let's hope it works.

En'Aiel quietly pulled out his runeblade, activated all of the runes simultaneously, and drove it into the ground. It took mere seconds for the rumbling of the earth beneath him to become apparent, and was enough of a distraction to throw the archers off balance.

"WHAT IS THIS TRICKERY! FIND THE INTERLOPER!" Orithos boomed out across the peak.

It was too late for that. Ghoul after ghoul came clamboring out of the ground, and began to attack the archers en masse. The frail, brittle skeletons were no match for the brute strength the ghouls possessed, and the mindless horde smashed and tore them apart, crushing them to dust within minutes. En'Aiel and the Sky Darkener locked eyes for a brief moment, both knowing all too well that the ghouls' usefulness were shortlived. As they fell to the earth from whence they were summoned, Orithos began to laugh quietly.

"And what now, Knight, now that you have activated all of your runes? That must have been such an intense exertion!"

"Shut your filthy mouth, you damned Skeleton, and let me strike you down so that I may get back to my business!"

"What exactly do you hope to accomplish by this petty insurrection, Knight? You know as well as I do that He will not be stopped until all of Azeroth is His. In the end, we all must serve."

"You have fun with that. In the meantime, I think I'll keep my sanity, and introduce you to someone you likely overlooked," En'Aiel said through a spiteful grin.

Orithos turned around, to face En'Aiel's trained ghoul leaping at him from the air. The skeleton sighed, and effortlessly batted the nuisance away, throwing the Ghoul off the side of the peak to its inevitable doom.

Damn, that was a good one too.

It was enough of a distraction for En'Aiel to wrest Requiem from the ground, and lunge at Orithos with all of his strength. As the Skeleton twirled around, Requiem cleanly clove his head from his spine.

"Do you think this is the end of me, you dolt?" the dismembered head laughed. "I am the same as you. I will be reborn...and I will find you, Scourgebane."

With those haunting words, the skeleton faded into dust, which blew into the air and away from the peak. En'Aiel reached for his communicator.

"This is Vindicator Scourgebane. The Sky-Darkeners have been neutralized. Aerial forces, begin your assault."