Secret War

[A L I V E]

Don't take life so seriously; it's not permanent

Mid-morning in New Agamand brings with it the same busy atmosphere Alive had encountered during his initial arrival. He walks toward the eastern gate, past many busy forsaken craftsmen as well as the occasional blood elf or orc. Once at the gate, he waits for his new 'boss'.

An eerie chill creeps up on Alive from his left, and he slowly turns his head in that direction to see Mira hovering silently next to him.

“…that’s in interesting technique.” he says, hiding his distress at her physical proximity to him.

“Are you ready?” she replies in cold tones to the warrior.

Alive turns to face her and smiles, a ghastly toothy grin, and says “…by your leave, Ma’am.”

The two forsaken exit the relative safety of New Agamand, and turn to the north, towards more hostile lands. The landscape of Howling Fjord is littered with dark forests, open plains, and treacherous rocks. Alive is slightly taken aback as he looks upon still living pine trees, not at all like the ones back in Tirisfal Glades or Silverpine Forest. The land here had not been tainted by the Scourge, and from what he could tell did not possess any demonic taint to it like other places on Azeroth he had traveled to.

This is not to say that this section of Northrend is safe, fierce wendigos, cannibal ice trolls as well as wild boars, feral worgs and hungry mountain lions also hide within the perpetual mists of the land. After several minutes on foot, Alive initiates some conversation.

“Mira, what can you tell me about Utgarde Keep?”

“The Keep is inhabited by the vrykul, a race bent on proving their strength to the Lich King, who will likely raise the most worthy of their warriors to serve him beyond the grave.” she says as she hovers up and over a fallen tree. “Look there.” she says, nodding her head towards the northeast.

Alive complies and from the forested hilltop from whence they stand, a giant citadel carved out of the mountainside can be seen. Even from this distance, it is a foreboding structure. An enormous section of the rock face has been cut into the shape of a skull and the fires of its forges rage with an angry intensity.

“The Deathstaklers initial reports tell that the vrykul once inhabited much of this land, founding a vast and prosperous civilization. Then one day, without warning or explanation, the vrykul vanished, leaving behind only deserted villages and abandoned temples.”

“Until now?” Alive questions as he jumps down from his high perch.

“So it would seem.” she replies flatly.

“I am curious then, what do you need me for if this is some sorta recon op? Stealth ain’t one of my talents.” Alive says allowing the corners of his mouth to curl up slightly in what could be taken as a cynical grin.

“True.” Mira says as she stops walking/floating and turns toward the warrior, “…we are part of a larger operation in this sector. Marrah’s post is at Utgarde Keep, she was only in town to secure reinforcements.”

“…eh? she’d only need re-ups if her initial force was decimated.”

“Your...insight...serves you well Warrior. Marrah’s forces were attacked last week while scouting for weaknesses in the enemies’ defenses. Marrah escaped to New Agamand, but I suspect she’ll be back in the fight soon enough.”

“…so, just you and me are going to be causing this grand distraction for who? The Deathstalkers or some other group?” Alive says, almost whining with the thought of being a diversion and not part of the larger strike force.

“You have not been regulated to the rank of fodder, Alive. You were…conscripted into The Hand of Vengeance weeks ago. We have been tasked by The Dark Lady with enacting our people’s vengeance against Arthas by any means available.” she says, as her attention is drawn to some movement in the underbrush behind Alive.

“…Hand of Vengeance eh? I like the sound of it. More titles to add to my magnificence…ehhehehehehe!!” Alive says, bashing a fist against his chest in the same manner as his orcish allies.

“Alive, be ready…we have company…at least four of them.” Mira whispers to him as she removes her bow.

The former high elf throws back her hood and unfurls her cloak, tossing it behind her tiny shoulders, and out of her way. Now fully exposed to the mid-day sun’s rays, Alive finally gets an ‘eye’ full of her.

She is dressed in dark green leather battle gear from the neck down to her matching boots. The trim is gold with emerald green leaves interwoven within it. She carries a small gladius and a ruby colored dagger as her melee weapons, both of which rest comfortably on her hips.

He is amazed that she has retained much of her elven beauty. Her eyes are large, almost doe like, but glow a harsh golden yellow. Her hair could have been black prior to her transformation, but now it appears to be a mostly darkish blue in color. She has it tied behind her head in a ponytail, with a small bang covering an old, but nasty looking scar across her forehead. This would be the only blemish he would find, on an otherwise very well preserved corpse.

“…not bad.” Alive says aloud.

“Would you focus Warrior! Here they come!” she says as she back flips away.

Alive turns to face their aggressors. Four blue-skinned ice trolls rumble out of the brush, armed with spear and sword. They have angular features, bright blue eyes, and mottled blue-white skin covered in worg hides and pelts. The trolls yell something at Alive, to which Alive answers with a furious roar of his own.

He steps forward, and draws his macuahuitl styled and karabela styled swords from their places on his back.

“I…AM…ALIVE!!!” he shouts as he charges into the closest of the trolls.

[Jinjinn]

I am enjoying this sneak-peek into areas we've yet to visit.

[A L I V E]

Death Doesn't Bargain

Alive’s sword hacks so hard into the near troll with his sword that he severs the troll’s left arm off at the elbow. The lost appendage falls to ground frozen in a block of magical ice, but the troll does not seem to notice and moves forward still as a witchdoctor casting restorative spells several yards behind the group magically rejuvenates him.

“Mira! Kill the caster!” Alive shouts, as he thrusts his sword forward, scoring a vicious jab at the troll’s right shoulder.

Mira silently acknowledges the warriors call, and draws a cursed arrow from her magical dragonscale quiver. She silently mouths the words of spell, and then lets her arrow loose upon her target. The arrow streaks past Alive and his three trolls and strikes the thigh of the withered looking troll witchdoctor. The witchdoctor howls in pain, and drops to one knee.

Alive lets out a piercing howl directed at his enemies, slowing the wounded one down as he tries to escape. He then turns to the other two, and roars with blood curdling fury at them, bolstering his own strength. He then springs ahead and attacks ferociously with his whirlwind attack, forcing the trolls to retreat several steps.

Mira keeps at a safe distance, sending volley after volley at the witchdoctor; keeping the troll focused on healing himself and not the others. In the corner of her eye, the Dark Ranger spots the injured troll, trying to scamper away to the safety of the forest’s mists.

“…you will not escape me Troll.” she growls as she targets the humanoid. She casts a different spell, one of her more sinister incantations. Her Black Arrow strikes the fleeing troll in the back; the shock drops him to his knees. She then turns back to the witchdoctor and within the span of six seconds sends eight arrows into the troll’s chest and abdomen, silencing him forever.

The two remaining trolls strike at Alive with their feeble short sword and staff, but his rigid and overlapping plate mail armor easily absorb or deflect their assaults. One of the trolls breaks off its attack and runs towards Mira once it sees that she has killed the witchdoctor.

The troll that is still engaged in mortal combat with Alive thrusts his spear at him, but it bounces harmlessly off of his armor, and then Alive comes forward suddenly with both swords. Brutal slashes and precise cuts mutilate the ill-armored troll, and these attacks are heighted since Alive is now fully gripped within Bloodthrist’s red mist. The troll drops his spear, in a vain effort to shield himself from the onslaught; but Alive’s swords methodically continue the grim work of pureeing the troll.

Meanwhile, Mira’s dark incantation finally does its work, killing the wounded troll. Almost within the same instant of death, a Dark Minion erupts from the flesh of the dead troll. It sheds the troll’s remaining flesh and clothing like an insect that is molting, and then runs towards Mira, who is already engaged in combat.

The troll fighting Alive gives a shout and tumbles to the grassy earth, clutching his mortal wound. Alive turns to charge the last enemy, but pauses to watch the skeletal minion breeze by him to assist Mira.

The Dark Ranger ducks the troll’s attacks as it swings wildly at her with his sword. She flips away, landing nimbly on her feet and then brings up her bow in one fluid motion, releasing two arrows in quick succession.

The arrows find their mark and land with a sickening thud into the troll’s chest. As he falls to his knees, he is surprised to see the bones of his companion attacking him with a small boulder. The minion bashes in the skull of troll, striking him several times until it is sure that the troll is dead. The Dark Minion then scurries over to Mira and awaits instructions.

Alive sheathes his weapons behind his back and walks over to the Dark Ranger.

“…an interesting construct. I didn’t know you were a necromancer.”

“I am not, however I do possess some abilities that mirror them. While I can summon the dead to aid me, the process is only temporary. Soon this ‘construct’ as you so named it, will wither and crumble.” she replies as she taps the tall skeleton on its forearm.

“Full of surprises, I see. How much longer until we reach the Keep?” Alive asks as he sniffs at the undead minion.

“Wyrmskull Village is less than a day’s march from here.” she says, pointing to the north, “There you will get your first glimpse of the foolish vrykul marauders.”

“…delightful.” he remarks as he begins to walk in the direction.

[A L I V E]

That which does not kill us, must have missed us

The two undead trek silently through the dense forest growth of the Howling Fjord. Alive leads the way, mumbling to himself with his swords drawn and ready for a fight. Mira, the Dark Ranger, and the most sane/sensible of the duo takes up the rear, keeping a watchful eye on the forest around them for enemies.

“Alive, there is a small Tuskarr encampment just over the next ridge.” Mira informs the warrior.

“What’s them? Friendlies?” Alive asks, looking over his shoulder slightly.

“…yes Alive, they are our allies here in Northrend. They are a race of nomadic fishermen and hunters.”

“…pftt. Sounds like Tauren with frostbite.” Alive remarks, then chuckles to himself.

“Perhaps…there are also many fighters amongst their people. You may learn something worthwhile during our short visit.” Alive snorts, and adjusts his face mask, clearly disregarding the notion.

Sometime later, the Forsaken arrive to the small camp. It is austere to say the least; it boasts a small tent made of shoveltusk skins in the center of the clearing. Next to the tent a small brazier sits, eagerly awaiting use. Seated on the ground, outside the tent a long tusked and shirtless humanoid busies himself with the skinning of a huge arctic brown bear.

“Greetings Maujaq.” Mira says from underneath her dark hood to the Tuskarr.

“Alo Ranggar Mirrah. Yer getting’ betta at sneakin’. I didn’t scmhell ya comin’ thish tyme.” the massive walrus-like man spoke. His is easily seven feet tall, with dark, but gentle looking eyes. His tusks erupt from behind a heavy and bristly looking mustache, and are adored with tribal etchings, which no doubt tells of his family’s lineage and deeds. His face and broad shoulders are covered in many scars, some clearly from battle, and others from various run-ins with the local beasts.

“We encountered a Drakkari patrol on our way here.” Mira adds as she moves closer to the behemoth.

“Iz dat sooe?” Maujaq replies to Mira with a sheepish grin, “Dere all dead in tha ferrest back thar then ay?” he says followed by a laugh. Mira just nods slowly in response, and waves her arm, indicating that it is safe for Alive to approach.

“Oi, I schee yer’ve brought us a buddie!” Maujaq says with glee, “…hrumm…Dish wun ish a fygther ay?” he says as he stands to his full height, towering over Mira and Alive. He scratches his belly absently as he awaits for Alive to come closer.

“I am Alive.” the warrior says, offering a slight bow to the tuskarr.

Maujaq belches out a huge laugh, and his rotund belly jiggles with the force of the laughter.

“Alleve? Nay, I dink knot meh fwiend! HAR! HAR! HAR!” he replies, tossing his baldhead back as he laughs even harder.

Alive snorts at Maujaq, and his socketless eyes narrow with the initial bubblings of rage forming. He looks to Mira, who merely shrugs and floats inside the tent.

“Oi! yer dunt luk wery schrong Alleve! Ah bets dhars a thingertew I culde teech ya!”

Alive instantly bristles at the open threat from the larger humanoid. He steps back and then draws out his two enchanted swords. Mira emerges from the tent, dragging a massive longsword behind her. Maujaq turns to the ranger and takes the sword from her.

“Thank-ee Mirrah. Nowe, lesht schee wot yah got, ALLEVE!!”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you, morsel.” Alive taunts Maujaq with his head tilted slightly to the left.

The big tuskarr laughs again, and raises his sword high above his head ready to strike. Alive shouts at Maujaq, demoralizing him slightly and giving the Forsaken Warrior a small advantage. Maujaq hops forward, forcing Alive on the offensive.

He then presses forward with an impressive display of swordsmanship, a measured thrust here, a dazzling slice there; but the Tuskarr Warrior easily counters them using his longer reach and body mass.

“Keep your focus Alive.” Mira encourages, but her words seem lost on the wind. Again, Alive presses forward, and is rebuffed by the other warrior.

“Yer a fisehty wun!”

“Shut yer face!” Alive yells, as he succumbs to a fit of berserker rage and charges the larger warrior. Maujaq parries and then dodges the feral fighter’s strikes, moving with a speed that seems at odds with his unusual girth. He rolls on his shoulders and manages to get behind Alive, then kicks him square in the back, sending the warrior flying forward several feet.

Alive rolls on his shoulders and then springs easily back onto his feet. He howls in anger again, and suddenly leaps up into the air, slamming down on Maujaq’s sword with both of his own. He puts sufficient force into his attack that the tuskarr is stunned, and forced down to one knee.

Alive shouts with bloodcurdling fury, and quickly follows up for the easy kill.

“VAE VICTIS!” he screams, his face twisted with grim resolve. However, his killing blow is intercepted by Mira’s own gladius. Enraged, Alive snaps at her with his jagged teeth, but Mira proves to be faster and sweeps his legs out from under him. She then somersaults out of his radius and readies her bow just in case Alive still has not come to his senses.

“What are you doing?!” Alive yells, as he rolls back to his feet. His question is answered with applause from his challenger.

“Wery gude, Alleve! Yue managed ta git me downe ta knee!” Maujaq says, as he rises to his feet.

“This was merely a training exercise Alive.” Mira says to Alive, her arrow nocked and ready to fly. Alive growls at her and at Maujaq, but makes no hostile movements.

“Yah, yew kneeded ta lurn ta fygth geeants.”

“I’ve killed hundreds of giants!” Alive snaps at the tuskarr.

“Nay, nyot lyke deesh. Nyot da Veerkull. Yer learned haow ta schtun meh wythyout runnin’ arunde!”

“Calm yourself Alive, that little Heroic Leap of yours was quite impressive. Certainly it will prove useful when we engage the Vrykul.” Mira adds as she slowly lowers her bow.

Alive chooses not to respond, his glowering expression speaks for itself.

“The main danger with your Berserking is losing control. Anger is a weapon like any other; powerful in the right hands, and dangerous in the wrong hands. As the Berserker becomes ever more familiar with the Red Mist, complacency can set in, and the ever-present precipice of bestial madness looms closer and closer.” Mira tells him as she moves towards Alive. She places a hand on his shoulder and says, “…now is the time for the end game. The Dark Lady needs soldiers, not heroes.”

“Why can’t I be both?” Alive says, as his rage finally begins to subside.

“Oi, enugh of dish talk fore nowe! Ah have lotsh of gude meats here, lettuce eatsh! We’ll schpeek of battle later.” Maujaq suggests as he takes the longsword and thrusts it into the ground. The big tuskarr then moves back towards the bear he was skinning and plops back down to finish his work.

Alive sheathes his swords, returning them to their scabbards on his back. He walks away from the group to contemplate Mira’s words in silence.

[A L I V E]

Life is pleasant. Death is peaceful. It's the transition that's troublesome.

Thirty minutes later, Mira and Alive take their leave of the hospitable tuskarr warrior, and begin again their march to Utgarde Keep. Alive, still sullen from his hasty course of instruction, takes out his pent up aggression on the squirrels and small foxes that are not fast enough to get clear of his swords.

“Would you cease with your petty murder?” Mira asks with a hint of annoyance in her voice.

“Meh.”

“This behavior is unbecoming of a professional solider. Perhaps we were wrong in recruiting you.”

“Feh.”

“I suppose I could have you reassigned to Desolace, the Tauren there could always use another guard to stand watch over the happenings at Mannoroc Coven.” she says to him, as she silently negotiates through a small field of brush.

“Bleh.”

“I thought not.” she said in an even and final tone. “See that tower there?” she asks, pointing to the west, “That is Ember Spear Tower; it is where the Vrykul allow their pet proto-dragons to play. The entire area north of that is scorched, burned by the insipid dragons.”

“…and that dark region ahead of us?” Alive asks, pointing his sword to the northeast.

“An obstacle.”

“Say again?”

“That is Halgrind. There are two proto-dragon pens there that we must navigate through.” she says.

“Only two camps of dragons?”

“That will be more than enough for us Alive; remember our forces will not be sending aid this way. We will be on our own.”

“More fer me to kill.” Alive mumbles to himself, with a wide grin on his boney face.

Twenty minutes later, the two find themselves wading into an ever-thickening cloud of smoke. Alive sniffs the air as if he was some crazed wild mongrel and then turns towards Mira, with a wild smile on his face.

“I smell lots o’ smoke and fire…but nothing else.”

“Yes, reports list this camp as slowly being repopulated by the Vrykul. They may have their hands full trying to reign in their wayward pets.” she says. “Stealth would be our best course of action here, Alive.”

“Aww…yer no fun at all.” he says, sheathing his weapons.

As they move deeper into the ever-burning vale, cries of free roaming dragons are heard overhead. Mira has taken up the lead during their slow walk into Halgrind, not wanting to be intentionally led into a den of hungry proto-dragons by her over anxious companion.

The Dark Ranger comes to a sudden halt, frozen in place as a huge white dragon descends from the smoky skies and lands fifteen meters ahead of them. She indicates silently that they are turn around and go back the way they came. As Alive turns on his heels, he accidentally steps on a smoldering tree branch, breaking the silence of their hasty retreat.

The proto-dragon turns his massive white head towards them, and roars. Its huge angry eyes are as red as the fires it holds deep within its belly. Waves of sulfuric breath wash over the Forsaken as the proto-dragon moves closer; the beast snarling at them both. Mira scowls at Alive from under her hood, but says nothing as she throws back the folds of her cloak and reaches for her bow.

Alive shrugs and walks towards the proto-dragon, drawing out his weapons.

As he walks past Mira, he snickers and says, “…sometimes the obstacle is the path, Ranger.”

[A L I V E]

Enter the Dragon

Mira only had a few seconds to frown at the insane warrior before the spot where she had been standing was turned into a flaming crater. The proto-dragon had immediately released a fireball at the Dark Ranger, and was preparing a second volley.

Mira dives into a roll, tucking her legs into a tight ball. She rebounds on her feet and in a single motion turns and then releases a stream of deadly arrows from her bow. As Alive runs towards the proto-dragon, she is almost certain she saw an angry looking dwarf’s head materialize just over his head as he ran by. She quickly dismisses the thought as a trick of the fog and focuses her mind on the approaching beast.

The proto-dragon releases another fiery ball of death, this time aimed at Alive. The Warrior snarls in anger and then charges the creature, allowing the blast to pass harmlessly over his head and instead, it engulfs in flame a large tree. Alive slices open a deep gash in the proto-dragon’s scales, just above the front left leg and just under the left wing. His Deathfrost enchant exploits the wound, causing instant frostbite around the site.

The proto-dragon snaps at Alive, picking up the Forsaken up in its toothy maw. It squeezes hard, but his plate armor holds, and he can smell fresh blood from its mouth as his sword grazes the inside of the creature’s mouth. Alive uses his free left arm and stabs the dragon in the eye, causing it to drop him back to the hard permafrosted ground.

Mira takes the opportunity given to her by Alive and fires four arrows into the proto-dragon’s exposed neck. The dragon roars in pain, and then takes to the skies calling out for its brethren.

“Alive! We must flee! The dragon’s calling for aid!” Mira shouts as she releases several more arrows into the sky.

“NO! We can take him!” Alive spits back, running in circles looking for a way to get up to the fast accelerating proto-dragon.

“Are you blind as well as insane? We will not be able to defend ourselves against a clutch of these beasts!”

“What other choice is there Mira?!” Alive shouts at her, suddenly realizing that he in fact, cannot fly after the dragon.

“We will push forward, we will have to run through the breath of the camp – we will not be stopping for kills. Once we are clear of the camp we will regroup and reassess.”

“Pfft. We can TAKE them Mira!”

“Alive, I will NOT repeat myself!” she yells as she takes off running past him with her gladius and sharp looking dagger drawn.

Alive roars in disgust, but knows he is defeated. Dark Rangers hold a higher rank in the Forsaken caste system, below them being the Apothecaries. Warriors such as Alive are expected to follow them with the same blind loyalty they would have if the Dark Lady herself commanded them.

The two make haste through the camp, running past several empty buildings and newly constructed cages filled with smaller and possibly younger proto-dragons. The ground is slightly scorched and the stink of sulfur still permeates the air, but the seemingly persistent smog that they had encountered upon entering the zone seems to have had dissipated a bit.

Alive is slightly faster, since he had taken the time to enchant his boots with a minor speed increase during his brief time at the tuskarr camp. The extra boost in speed comes in handy as he narrowly avoids running head first into a female vrykul raider.

Easily standing fifteen feet from toe to head, and covered in snow leopard furs the vrykul shouts in surprise at the passing warrior. She is an albino, with matching snow-white hair and cold blue eyes. Her teeth are sharp looking, and her canines protrude oddly from the top of her gum line. Her hair is braided in a “warrior’s braid”, with the ends platted and waxed into spikes. The vrykul is armed with a wicked looking scythe that is adorned with many small humanoid bones.

Mira stops to take a shot at the giantess, hitting her in the back with a silencing shot to prevent her from calling out to any nearby allies. As the giant spins on her heels to see what pricked her, Alive turns around and runs back towards the vrykul.

The Dark Ranger sees Alive coming back and hits the giant with another arrow, but they seem to be less effective when attacking head on. She narrowly avoids a wide sweep from the raider’s scythe, as she had ducked behind a tree at the last moment. When the tree starts to fall, Alive makes his move slicing at the giant’s legs. The vrykul falls to her side awkwardly, hamstringed by Alive’s well-placed cuts.

“Move your carcass!” Alive shouts at Mira, before he releases a piercing howl, dazing every hostile entity within ten yards of them.

“Do not order me Meat Shield!” Mira yells back, but Alive ignores her and runs onward.

[A L I V E]

Amidst the turmoil of events, do not lose your presence of mind

The dead have a nearly limitless pool of vitality, and have no need to stop and rest. Faster and faster the two heroes run, stopping briefly to duck behind a tree, rock or some other structure to avoid being seen and accosted by either proto-dragon or vrykul giant.

The whole of Halgrind is on alert now, looking for the intruders. Mira and Alive scurry through the camp like frenzied rats escaping a barn fire. Alive is spotted by another vrykul giant, and for several moments their eyes (rather, those sockets which mark where his eyes should be) meet.

Anger flashes across the vrykul male’s tattooed face, and he charges towards Alive. The vrykul raises his enormous axe high, and then brings it down swiftly on Alive’s position. Alive side steps the axe as it impacts the cold earth, and then swipes at the vrykul’s wrists with his irregularly shaped blade.

The giant howls in anger and backhands Alive with his free hand, sending Alive flying into the branches of a nearby spruce tree. Mira then springs into action, releasing a volley of deadly arrows at the vrykul.

Once she has gained his attention, the Dark Ranger begins to mouth the words of another baleful spell. The vrykul stops in his tracks and stares at Mira stupidly, almost lovingly.

Alive negotiates his way out of the tree and shakes off the snow and twig debris from his body. He looks to see the vrykul kneeling before Mira as if he were awaiting some instruction.

“Hey! what’d ya do to him?” Alive asks as he approaches with his weapons drawn.

“Calm yourself Warrior. This creature has been charmed, and is bound to my will for a time.” Mira says as she pulls the hood back over her head. She bids the vrykul to come closer, and issues some orders to her minion. The vrykul takes up his weapon and runs off behind them.

“What did ya tell’em?” Alive asks with a toothy grin.

“I told him to kill every vrykul and proto-dragon he meets until we are safe. If luck is with us, the fool will injure or maim one of them before the spell wears off. By then his own kin will have turned on him, allowing us more time to cross the camp.” she says.

“I like the way you think. Don’t care much for all them magicks, but to each his own.” Alive says, looking off in the direction of the charmed vrykul.

“Your acceptance of my methods are not needed Alive. You are to execute the Dark Lady’s will and nothing more. Now, cease your chatter we still have some wild country to traverse before we reach the perimeter of Utgarde Keep.”

She turns away from Alive and begins a slow jog through the vrykul camp. Alive shrugs and follows behind, looking to his left and right for more adversaries to fight. Soon after, he hears the death cry of Mira’s mind slave, and begins to chuckle aloud; which draws a reproachful grimace from Mira. He shrugs at her again, and resumes his watchful gaze.

Several minutes later, the two finally clear Halgrind. They find themselves standing before a fast moving river, on the other side the giant enceinte of the keep can clearly be seen even though they were still several miles away.

“We cannot cross here,” Mira says after a brief inspection of the rapidly moving water, “we will move north, there is a bridge we will use to cross over to the catacombs.”

“I like catacombs. Feels like home.” Alive says. Mira offers no reply and instead begins to jog along the shore towards the bridge.

[Mahre]

It is obvious that someone has been doing their lore homework

Very nicely done.....continue please =)

[A L I V E]

Death is the stone into which our oblivion hardens

Night is rapidly falling on the frozen tundra known as the Howling Fjord. The sounds of hungry wolves are heard yelping their greetings to one another off in the distance. The pervasive misty fog that surrounds the shaded areas of the forest seems to grow and elongate, and is now seeping out of the forest and slowly creeping towards the shoreline of the river. Also along the shores of the small, but fast flowing body of water, two humanoid figures are seen trudging towards the north.

The Dark Ranger Mira and her accomplice, a Forsaken Warrior calling himself “Alive” have made good time, as they have crossed several miles of rocky terrain in just under two hours.

“That land mass across the river is actually a peninsula, it’s surrounded by water on three sides. Other than swimming, there are only two access points to the land.” Mira says.

“…the first obviously being this ‘bridge’ of yours.” Alive responds as he jumps over a fallen tree.

“Correct. The second being the “Falls of Ymiron”, named so for the vrykul king.”

“…so, you know the name of the enemy king and no moves have been made to assassinate him?” Alive asks, as he begins sniffing the frosty air around him.

“He yet lives; but not due to a lack of trying Alive. The ‘Sleeping King’ has many defenses and we are still not yet ready for a long campaign against the vrykul.” she says, slowly removing the long bow from her back.

“So then, this army that is supposed to be coming up behind us is…”

“…is merely another tool to test the might of our enemies.” she says, cutting his sentence short.

“Heh. I suppose it makes sense, after all we are still fortifying our positions here.” Alive says, while at the same time drawing out his enchanted swords. “…smells like you’ve attracted some company Mira.”

The Dark Ranger rolls her eyes and sneers at the warrior. “Hardly. If anything, all the noise that rusty armor of yours makes alerted them to our presence. At any rate, be ready when they strike.” she says as she casually removes her hood from her head.

“…not my fault these guys don’t know Death when it’s on them.” Alive responds with a blood thirsty looking grin on his scarred face.

As if privy to the hushed conversation between the two undead, a pair of vrykul rumbles out of the nearby forest. The first being an older looking one, with a long braided grayish white beard, and the second being younger looking and slightly heavy set but still well muscled. Both were similarly armed and armored with animal skins and huge axes; the older vrykul carried an enormous dragon bone shield.

“…so. What’s the plan Battle Captain?” Alive asks as he stares at the two giants standing just a few meters away from them.

“Do what you do Alive.” she says, throwing back her long gray cloak and making ready her bow.

“Aww…shucks…I get to cut loose eh?” Alive responds, although he already knew the answer to the question. Drawing upon his latent anger, the warrior activates his Bloodrage skill, and then immediately intercepts the closer of the two vrykul; which in this case is the slightly overweight one.

Mira wastes no time and engages the older looking vrykul. She releases five arrows in quick successions, three of which find their mark and hit the vrykul in his right shoulder; but he is swift enough to get his shield up, and the last two bounce harmlessly off.

The chubby vrykul swings his two handed axe low, pushing Alive backwards as he somehow manages to parry the giant’s axe with his two swords. Inspired by the power of the vrykul’s assault, Alive lets out a demoralizing shout, surprising the larger foe.

The old vrykul is obviously an experienced fighter. He attempted to close the gap between himself and the more agile Dark Ranger, but each time he had her cornered she would simply dodge out of the way, and then she would have him lined up in her sights for more of her stinging arrows. To counter this, he raises his dragon bone shield in front of him, holding it between his chin and knees. He leans forward with his left side and is keeping his sword arm, which carries his great axe, behind him a bit. He plans to push the little demon into the water, and be done with her.

Alive rolls to his right, barely avoiding a vicious stomp from the giant foe. He finds himself ducking again to dodge an awkward left hand punch coming from the vrykul as he turns to face Alive. Slightly perturbed, Alive shouts again at the giant; the power of his voice dazing the larger humanoid.

Mira can hear the rushing water coming up behind her, and realizes that her game of cat and mouse may finally be over. If the current was not moving so quickly, she could easily take this battle below the surface, as Forsaken can hold their breath ad infinitum. Thinking quickly, she shoots several arrows into the leading foot of her enemy. The vrykul roars at her, and then shouts a few words at Mira. She correctly deduces that he is probably using profanity, and then she somersaults away.

Having heard the roar, which was followed by several choice words directed at Mira, Alive looks to see if she is still holding her own. After witnessing the Dark Ranger leap away, Alive intervenes; disengaging combat with his vrykul and takes advantage of the easy target the kneeling older vrykul presented. The warrior performs a whirlwind attack, shredding the leather armor of the giant. This is immediately followed up with Bloodthirst, a technique taught to Alive while fighting for his un-life in Dire Maul.

His hands become fiery red balls of pain, slashing open new wounds on the stunned vrykul and opening wider gashes on the already bleeding areas of his back. Consumed by blood lust, Alive goes on a Rampage, and chaos is unleashed onto the now freshly exposed spine of the vrykul. As the behemoth falls limply on top of his dragon bone shield, Alive takes the serrated edge of his left hand sword and forces open another deep wound on the vrykul’s exposed neck.

Mira fires a constant stream of deadly arrows at the chubby vrykul, pinning him down as he tries to advance towards Alive. The fighter suddenly goes wild, foaming at the mouth and all, then charges down the short slope towards Alive.

Alive finishes his grim business, and decapitates the helpless old vrykul. He only has seconds to register the rumbling of heavy footfalls coming in from behind him. Alive leans forward thrusting both swords into the chest and neck of the raging vrykul, but the momentum is too great for the smaller warrior to counter, and both combatants fall into the fast moving stream of water with a loud splash.

[A L I V E]

All Washed Up

Alive finds himself falling quickly to the bottom of the murky and icy river. He pulls hard on his swords removing them, and then kicks out against the body of the dead vrykul giant, propelling himself away. However, his heavy armor betrays his momentum, and within seconds, he is falling sideways with the current, heading down to the bottom of the river.

He tries to stand and walk against the flow, but cannot get a firm footing on the slimy muck covered rocks that litter the bottom. He is not worried about suffering from drowning, because his kind are able to go without breathing for an hour or more if truly pressed. He reasons that his only chance at escape will be to ride the current, and see where the river takes him.

Alive turns, placing his back against the current, and then jumps through the water. The thrust from his leap propels him up and over, sending him twenty feet from his starting position. The slippery surface he lands on combined with the persistent rush of water from behind nearly topples him over. He repeats the action again, and then a third and a forth time; pausing only long enough to regain his footing before jumping again.

Minuets later, he stops leaping when he encounters several rows of huge under water pillars. Recognizing that these must be the foundation for a bridge, Alive reaches out for one as he passes by, sinking his claw-like hands deep into the fractures of the stone.

He maneuvers himself around the pillar, so that he is not being pulled with the icy rush of water. He then begins his slow climb up the side of the stone, moving slowly as he does not want to slide off and again find himself swept down stream.

His head finally breaks the surface of the water, and Alive decides to take in a breath of air just in case he has to drop back down into the water. After so long beneath the surface of the cold water, a normal human would have suffered from debilitating hypothermia but Alive seems to be unaffected.

Alive crawls onto the scaffolding under the bridge, it is clear to him that the bridge is not of Forsaken design, but instead seems strikingly familiar to dwarven construction. The sounds of boots cause him to freeze in place as he listens in for more information on where he is.

“I’m sick of this! All day ever’day we’re out here haulin’ lumber or stone back to Valgarde.” a scruffy sounding human male voice said.

“Wot do ye expect? We’re just Yeoman here; you wanna go back to Goldshire and work the mines instead? Not me! Least not whiles they’re paying me so much better out here!”
responds another male.

“…it’s not the money Curtis, it’s the doggone attacks! They’re ceaseless! One day those damn veerkrull are gonna break through then, them blasted undeads will have nothing to stop them from taking all the north fer themselves.”

“Bah!”, Curtis replies, “Yer getting soft Odell, I spent years as a lumberjack down in Duskwood, ain’t nothing here more scarier than that!”

Odell and Curtis continue their talk as they walk over and then past where Alive lay hidden from them, under the bridge.

“So, this is Valgarde? Must be an alliance settlement. This could be terribad for me if I don’t do this right.” Alive thinks to himself. He decides to avoid combat, for now, and heads in the opposite direction the two men walked.

He reaches the end of his walkway and pauses, listening in for any approaching alliance. After several minutes of quiet, he crawls out from under the bridge and pulls himself onto the sides, and then up and over onto the bridge.

He looks around and sighs loudly, as two well-armed guards turn to face him.

“Abomination!” one guard shouts as he draws his sword.

“To Arms!” the second guard shouts, and then charges forward, slamming Alive with his shield. Alive manages to parry an overhead slash from the guardsman, and then leans in close and spits in the face of his attacker. The shocked man raises his shield up instinctively and staggers backward.

The other guard immediately shifts into a defensive stance, and comes in from Alive’s right seeking to get in a few whacks with his short sword. Alive hops backwards slightly and faces his newest opponent.

He roars at the man, and then kicks up some dirt towards the man’s face. The guard raises his shield high, avoiding the spray of earth and snow as Alive had anticipated. He turns to his right slightly and kicks low and hard, hitting the man in shin with his heavily plated boot. Alive smiles as a pleasant sounding crack is heard from the other man’s leg. The guard screams out in pain, and staggers back, leaning heavily on his good leg.

The first guard, now having removed the disgusting spittle from his eye, charges at Alive once again. His sword scrapes loudly against Alive’s plate armor, tearing his tabard slightly. Enraged, Alive and the guard exchange blows briefly; with the guard holding well as he blocks the stronger attacks with his tough round shield.

Alive realizes that these two are veteran fighters, and quickly begins to lose interest in a long drawn out skirmish. He howls at them both, terrorizing and confusing the two men for a brief moment but long enough to secure a hasty retreat.

For several minutes, the two men try to give chase, but their progress is hindered by the leg injury sustained by one of the guards. Eventually, they turn back and return to their post. Alive, meanwhile runs on and does not stop until he finds himself on the outskirts of what has to be a vrykul town.

[A L I V E]

Time for Some Action

The structures of the town were ridiculously oversized. Doorways were easily eighteen feet from the floor up, and as wide as two abominations. From every entrance, black banners with an even blacker dragon’s head emblazoned onto it are hung. The lanterns are decorated with dragon teeth, and much of the woodwork adorning the buildings resembles dragons.

“These banners are not as old as the rest of this settlement.” Alive says in his mind, as he moves slowly forward through the outlaying brush. Suddenly, several Forsaken pop into existence before him; Alive fails to hide his surprise.

“Who are you?” Alive asks with his hands instinctively drawing out his weapons.

“We are the Hand of Vengeance. We’ve been following your movements for some time now. How is it you came to be here?” a female rogue asks him.

“I am Alive. I too am part of the ‘Hand’. I was separated from my party several hours ago; we were to be the distraction at Wyrmskull Village.”
The rogue nods slowly at Alive, and says, “…ah yes. You were traveling with Mira then? She rounded up a few others and departed for the Keep not long ago.”

Alive relaxes and sheathes his blades behind his back. “So then, this group is the strike force?”

“Yes”, a male voice says from behind him, “I am Deathguard Wills, commander of this operation.” Alive then bows respectfully at the Deathguard before speaking again, as is demanded by Forsaken protocol.

“Well, since Mira’s moved on, perhaps my assistance could be used here?”

Wills responds clearly with a ‘no’. “I appreciate the offer Alive, however; this party is full, and we already have a meat shield.”

Dismayed, Alive nods at the group and watches them as they stalk off into the empty town. He stands around for several minutes, unsure of what his next course of action should be.

"This simply won’t do." a dark voice echoed in his mind.

“What won’t do?” Alive asks aloud.

"They need you. They won’t last a second without your help." the voice responded.

“Hmm…I think you might be right.” Alive says, looking thoughtfully (or mindlessly depending on your point of view) into the distance.

"Of course I am. Now, let’s get going."

Somewhere, in the deep recesses of Alive’s fragmented mind, he questions why he is following the instructions of this unseen entity. But the question is lost as thoughts of combat; victory and devouring vrykul flesh quickly fill his brain.

Alive draws out his weapons and walks towards Utgarde Keep. He is smiling oddly, and is filled with a profound confidence, although he is not entirely sure as to why. Several minutes later, the air is filled with the sounds of battle. Alive’s pace quickens as the warrior heads in the direction of the fight. He rounds a rocky corner and looks to see his brethren engaged in combat with a squad of armed vrykul. They are holding their own, and have already killed a robed magician who must have been a part of the enemy patrol.

Seeking to take out his own vrykul or two, Alive easily avoids the skirmish, and moves further inland towards the Keep. The earth is scorched here, very reminiscent of Halgrind. The roars of proto-dragons are heard overhead; their cries make Alive spit reflexively.
Alive uses the nighttime shadows to his advantage, pausing briefly to see if he is being tracked from above. Eventually he comes to a huge gate, guarded by a lone vrykul.

“This is too easy!” Alive thinks to himself. Just then, the vrykul is assailed by a volley of arrows from his right. They strike deep into his chest, but the giant shakes off the attack and charges towards whomever fired upon him. Alive giggles with glee at his luck, and runs inside Utgarde Keep.

The entrance of the great hall of the keep is lined with huge fiery lanterns, which give off a warm red glow. There are dragon motifs on every finished surface of the walls, and blood red banners with a black dragon’s skull in its center decorate the walkway.

There is an intense heat emanating from the next room, Alive slinks along the edges of the wall and looks cautiously around the corner. A gigantic forge lay in the center of the room, belching fire every few seconds in three directions. All around the forge, he sees several vrykul metalworkers and forgemasters, all busy at work hammering or smelting ores and metals. There are two doors, one on the opposite side of the room from where he is lurking and the second along the western edge of the room.

The Forsaken Warrior weighs his options in his mind. He can charge into the space, running to the forge and using its fires as a buffer against the coming advance of a room full of giants, fighting until the last one is dead. On the other hand, he can make a mad dash for one of the doors, hacking and maiming any who come close until he has run out of room and has been effectively contained within one of the rooms inside the vrykul fortress, which would probably end badly for him.

The sound of approaching footsteps rouses Alive from his dark plans. He hurries off behind a pillar and waits.

“Stay alert, we have many enemies ahead of us in the next room.” a familiar female voice says.

Alive walks out from behind his hiding place and smiles broadly at the group.

“Mira, it’s nice to know you made it to your destination.” he says sarcastically.

The Dark Ranger looks at him with surprise, but quickly regains her stoic demeanor.

“Hrumph. I thought you were dead, pinned to the bottom of the river.” she says.

“…reports of my death were an exaggeration.” Alive replies, as he crosses his swords behind his neck and leans to his left casually.

“So they were. Since you are here, we will put you to work. Fall in soldier.” Mira says, pointing Alive to her right. She introduces the rest of her team, two rogues, a warlock and another warrior; none of whom Alive had met before or were even slightly familiar with.
“Now that we are all acquainted, let us go. Remember, this is merely a hit and run operation.”, she turns to Alive, “…no dramatics, no hero tactics. We go in, we draw their fighters and we get out.”

"Well, that’s no fun at all." Alive says in a low voice clearly not his own.

“Did you say something, Master Warrior?” the warlock asks.

Alive looks behind him to see whom the spell caster is speaking to, and then shrugs at him. The warlock simply waves him off, certain in his mind that the warrior did speak.

[A L I V E]

Odd Man Out

The team erupts into the forge hall like a volcano, and they quickly overwhelm two vrykul who were slow to react to their attack. Mira shoots her deadly arrows into the kneecaps of the lightly armed giants, slowing them down. The sword and board warrior taunts an on comer and engages the angry vrykul in single combat. The rogues easily dispatch a fourth vrykul metalworker, who was just beginning his charge towards the warlock, who with the aid of his succubus was cursing and charming several vrykul all at once.

Alive watches all this, but does not engage or assist anyone. He figures that they can easily clear the room, which in turn will raise the alarm and draw out the real warriors from the Keep. As the group makes quick work of the giants, Alive moves towards the western door.

The next room is a huge stable of sorts, filled with smaller proto-drakes and vrykul ‘Dragonhandlers’. Already, several vrykul are donning their armor and gathering reinforcements to push the intruders back. Alive takes advantage of the ‘battle confusion’ and tucks himself neatly away in a nook inside one of the abandoned proto-drake stables as a group of vrykul run past him and towards the forge room.

Once they have passed, Alive darts out into the open. One of the small white scaled dragons immediately challenges him, and he is eager to engage it in combat. The wyvern-sized drake belches a small fireball aimed at the dithyrambic warrior. Alive drops to his knees and then crosses his two enchanted swords in front of him taking the full blast.

Allowing the small fires to burn about him freely, he spins his left and cuts the proto-drake’s forearm, and then turns back in the opposite direction and punches the beast in the head with a plated fist.

Alive’s off-hand weapon, nicknamed ‘Black Misfortune’ slashes open a foot long gash along the wing of the young dragonspawn. Its wing begins to wither and die from the corruption curse placed upon it by his enchanted sword. In agony, the creature spins and smacks Alive across the chest with its muscular tail. The warrior is sent flying into a nearby stall, shattering it upon impact.

As soon as Alive is back on his feet, the proto-drake is upon him, snapping at him with its toothy maw. It clamps down on Alive’s left arm, and thrashes him about, trying to tear it out of the socket. He takes arm and pulls it in closer to his body, dragging the dragon to himself. He takes his free arm and slices across the dragon’s neck, forcing it to release him. He watches for several seconds, smiling wildly as blood spurts forth from the mortal wound, and then he runs out of the stable area and into the next room. He has to leap up and climb onto one of the many wooden dragons head sculptures overhead to avoid two more vrykul rumbling down a flight of stairs and towards him.

Once they have passed, Alive leaps down and sprints up the stairs and into another circular shaped room. As Alive crosses the threshold, the gates of the door slam shut. The room resembles a miniature arena, with dragon’s head tabards and sharp looking weapons lining the lower tier’s walls. It is well lit, with several large coal fueled braziers placed in neat increments all around the room.

“Velcome, interloper. I see yuir here to meet yuir death.” a male robed figure calls out to Alive, with his back to him. He wears the dark robes of a warlock and is standing over a huge table with his hood covering his head.

“Death eh? That’s gonna be hard on your part chump.” Alive says as he slowly makes his way up the stairs to the second floor.

“Iz that so? Ha, ha, ha.” the vrykul says, as he turns to face Alive. “…ah yes, now I see vhat yew mean. Yew have already died once no? The Lich King told us of the approach of his vayvard children. It iz not too late to reconzider this foolish undertaking and rejoin him in Icecrown.” the giant says, as he removes his hood revealing his deathly looking visage. His eyes glow the same yellow as the forsaken, hinting that this vrykul has already been enthralled by the Lich King.

“Nah…slavery is not really my kind of thing. Been there, done that.” Alive responds, he is now within striking range for a well-timed heroic leap onto the vrykul.

“And to zlavery yew vill return Undead. I am Prince Keleseth, it vill be my distinct pleazure to feed yuir remainz to my pet dragon.”

Alive draws out his weapons and spits. He has heard enough, and can feel the cold heat of his rage festering within his corpse like body.

“I…AM…ALIVE!!!”

He leaps into the air, his elbows bent slightly as he raises his two swords above his head. He is confident that he can decapitate the caster and in the seconds before his expected impact, he relishes the thought of eating Keleseth’s gall bladder.

The Prince mouths the words of a spell, and Alive finds him momentum halted. He looks around his body to see that he is frozen in place. A block of ice has formed around the lower section of his body and much of his torso.

“Hello Alive.” Keleseth replies as he claps his hands together and smiles a toothy grin “…I shall enjoy breaking you.”

[A L I V E]

Anger is an acid that can do more harm to the vessel in which it is stored than to anything on which it is poured.

“Cease yuir cursingz Undead. Yew vill find that my Ice Tomb is beyond yuir petty abilitiez to defeat.” Prince Keleseth says to his new toy, the forsaken warrior known simply as ‘Alive’.

The vrykul watches with amusement as Alive ignores his statement, and continues to curse and thrash about wildly at the ice block covering over fifty percent of his body. He turns to his worktable, and flips through his well-worn spell book.

“…letz see…I am zertain there iz a spell in thiz book that vill tame yew and bind yew to my vill…hmmm…” Keleseth says as he turns another page in his book. Suddenly, the doors sealing them inside the room fly open, knocked off their hinges by a powerful fireball.

Prince Keleseth sighs, and then shuts his spellbook. “It zeems yew have zum powerful allies, Undead. I zhall dispatch them shortly, and then I zhall finish with yew.” he says walking confidently away from Alive.

Alive replies with several expletives in gutterspeak, followed by some choice words about Keleseth’s sexuality in orchish.

From behind, Alive can hear the familiar voices of the party he had left in the forge room. He cannot turn around to see, so instead he continues to curse and hack away at his magically created prison of ice. It was just then, as he happened to look down, he saw some strange runes etched into the stone floor below him.

For several moments, he wondered from where he had seen those drawings before. Many years earlier, a warlock associate of his by the name of Seketh/Kaaya had used a similar drawing when binding one of their demons to their will.

The sounds of battle were coming closer, and Alive feels the heat from the forsaken warlock’s reign of fire scorching the room behind him. His allies are winning he can sense it!

Keleseth then materializes out of thin air in front of Alive. His robes are torn and singed, and he is bleeding heavily from the top of his head and right ear.

“They vill not save yew!” he shouts, and then begins mumbling anew in demonic. Alive shakes his prison fervently, eager to bite into the vrykul warlock. He growls and curses more, even as he can hear the footsteps of his kindred not far behind.

Keleseth finishes his incantation, and Alive finds himself surrounded by a purple mist. It finds a crack within the ice and begins to tickle his feet. The mist crawls up his legs and around his waist, continuing up until he is enshrouded in the strange purple aura.

“Stop Kelesth!” Mira shouts as she places two arrows into the warlock’s heart. But she is too late, the spell is complete. The world around Alive seems to melt away in a purple haze. He is free of the ice block now, and turns to see the distorted faces of Mira and the four other forsaken that had come in after him. He tries to speak, but it is as if unseen hands hold his mouth closed.

The world suddenly flashes a blinding white, and Alive feels himself drop to the cold stone floor. He is disoriented for several seconds, but manages to hold firmly to his weapons. When his sight returns, he finds that he is no longer in the same room as Keleseth and the others.

He is alone in a windowless room illuminated by a single torch, the only other visible ornamentation being the same magical rune from Utgarde under his feet. He grips his weapons tightly, seeking comfort in their touch. He sniffs the room, it does have a familiar odor to it…but the scent is too faint for him to properly discern.

Alive quickly steps off the rune, and flattens himself (as flat as a six foot three inch undead wearing full plate armor can get anyway) against the wall, not wishing to be teleported to some other foreign location. He inches across the wall to the open doorway of the small room. When he emerges in the hall, the familiar odor gains strength.

Hoping that his senses have betrayed him just this once, Alive slowly makes his way down a narrow darkened corridor out of the tiny summoning room. He comes to another hall, and frowns as he begins to hear the creatures stirring up ahead of him.

Worgen.

Their howls were the essence of frustration for him during the first months of his unlife as a Forsaken. He vividly recalls mining for ore in Silverpine Forest and being assaulted by one of the wretched ‘Sons of Arugal’. He had survived the attack, although he was not yet strong enough at the time to slay his assailant. Sometime later, he and a group of hardy fighters took the conflict directly to Arugal’s door; Alive came away victorious, cutting off the errant wizard’s head himself.

Now he wondered how these vile wolf men had made it to Northrend. He ponders the true fate of Arugal in his mind. Could he have been resurrected by one of Arthas’ agents? Alive pushes the questions to the back of his mind, and focuses on the approaching worgen.

The hallway is narrow, barely wide enough to accommodate a bull tauren. Alive is confident he will be able to take them on one at a time.

[Mahre]

::Aynslee smooths the robes she took from Aragul and marvels at the cleverness of Roxania who had removed the signs of the battle which ensued over these robes::

[A L I V E]

Dogs of War

The first hulking worgen charged down the narrow passage as soon as its keen senses noticed the rotten stench of Alive. The grey furred monster slashes at Alive’s plate mail, and he retaliates with his swords, cutting deep into the tough hide of the crazed wolf man.

The second worgen, a black furred yellow-eyed beast, yelps and nips at Alive, roughly pushing its companion against the cold stone wall as it attempts to get into the fray. The grey furred worgen leans in close, trying to bite Alive on his shoulder; the warrior sidesteps the attack and double slashes downward with his blades, severing the worgen’s right arm from the shoulder. ‘Grey fur’ falls limply down to a knee, still trying to swipe at Alive with its good arm before passing out from shock.

‘Black fur’ finally pushes past his wounded kin, and bumps into Alive knocking the warrior off his feet. The two tumble down a nearby flight of stairs, fighting with each other along the way. The worgen is first to recover, and clamps down onto Alive’s left leg, trying to lock its powerful jaws around the appendage.

Alive removes one of his felsteel throwing knives from his hip belt and begins to jab at the throat and neck area of the worgen. The black furred monster claws at Alive’s arms, but Alive continues to stab until he has found the ‘sweet spot’ under the thick hide and fur he had been digging for. He can feel the jugular vein rubbing against the flat side of the knife, so he twists it quickly and pulls the knife towards him.

The worgen rolls away, clutching at its fatal wound with a clawed hand; it tries to howl, but only gurgles blood. It stands up takes a few steps, then falls face first onto the floor dead. Alive sighs and then turns to inspect his damaged leg.

“Nuthin’ a healer couldn’t fix.” he thinks to himself. Then he realizes that he does not have a ‘healer’, he is here (wherever here is) alone. Alive limps over to the recently felled worgen and searches its body. He finds a few scraps of cloth amongst the junk the creature was carrying and decides to fashion a hasty bandage.

“…Doc Victor would be pleased.” Alive says as he reminisces about his time supporting the war effort in the Arathi Highlands by taking care of the wounded soldiers returning from Alterac Valley. It took several days for Alive to grasp the difference between ‘critically injured’ and ‘food’, but eventually he did manage to save several orc allies from certain death.

Now that he has recovered from his tussle with the two worgen, Alive surveys his surroundings once more. He quickly admits that he is definitely not in Shadowfang Keep, the ambient air here is far too frigid to have come from the decayed forest of Silverpine. He has to be still on the continent of Northrend, but where?

The Forsaken Warrior decides to figure it out later, this place is crawling with worgen, and he has to keep moving. Sniffing at the stale cool air Alive sneaks through the facility, looking for a way out of the complex. He is not immediately concerned with being discovered, one thing he learned about worgen is that most are just bloodthirsty killers who frequently kill their own for no apparent reason. This is still of little comfort, because if they are here then they are under the command of a powerful wizard or arcane artifact.

And whomever or whatever is controlling them will take notice if two of its pets are dead in the halls.

Finding new motivation, Alive hurries down another unremarkable corridor. His luck has finally manifested itself and he finds a room in the hall that does have a window in it. He peers out to see a snow covered wintry landscape. The trees are tall and thick, the pine needles crisp, and since the sun is just beginning its crawl across the sky he surmises it must be morning still.

He is not far from the ground level, and while he would not mind hanging around to explore this worgen stronghold a bit longer, it is just not prudent for him to do so at this time. He places one leg out of the window and looks down to see if there is a place where he can grab onto so that he may climb down to the snowy earth below.

“Stop! Intruder!” a dark voice shouts from the doorway. Surprisingly, the voice belongs to an acolyte of the Cult of the Damned. Alive looks at the man curiously, and brings his leg back inside the room.

“Yer not gonna stop me by yourself, morsel.” Alive says, salivating slightly as he wonders what this man’s pancreas tastes like.

“Indignant cur! Matilda! Attack!!” the human yells as he steps aside. Coming up from behind him a huge worgen wearing full plate battle armor lopes in from the hallway. Matilda’s red eyes lock onto Alive for a moment before the worgen howls furiously at him.

“I’ve no time for this. Cya!” Alive says as he makes a rude gesture to them both and then leans backwards out of the open window.