Short Stories

[justin]

These are just some stories I wanted to share with all of you. About two to three posts each, but some might be longer.


World of Warcraft: Last Stand of Quel' Thalas or Lovers' Doom


The stench of death and decay hung heavy in the air. Where once the sounds of children's laughter rang out there is only the screams of the dying and the tormented moans of the undead. The land itself seemed to twist in agony as the blight drained the smallest blade of grass and the most ancient of oaks of life.

Freja Dawnrunner shed a tear for her tortured homeland as she plunged her sword into the chest of an attacking zombie. She took great pride in her skill with the blade, but even a child could kill something that never attempted to block or dodge. Her overconfidence was rewarded with pain. The claws of a filthy ghoul punctured the chainmail protecting her arm and bite into flesh. Freja roared in anger smashing the hilt of her sword into the monsters face. With blinding speed she drew her short sword and separated its head from its hunched shoulders.

'There's no end to these monsters,' Freja said turning to her cousin Tharama. Tharama stood relaxed firing his bow with a bored smile upon his face. Each shot sent another undead back to the grave.

Tharama smiled to Freja. 'You worry too much dear cousin.'

Like most of their kind Tharama was tall and handsome with an ego to match. Though Freja had to admit with few that could match him with sword and bow he had some right to be cocky.

"You worry too little. Are lines are being pushed back and for every one of them we kill two of our people fall!"

"Have faith Freja. I know your clumsy pet paladin will be here to aid us."

Freja shot Tharama a dangerous look that caused her cousin to step back. She didn't care for her family referring to the man she loved as a pet. Her anger was redirected as the Scourge charged their lines. Worse horrors than zombies and ghouls marched against the High Elves. Spider-like monsters screeched their bloodlust, giant foul smelling abominations dripped gore from lose stitches, and most horrorifing of all the fallen high elves transformed into banshees. Freja and Tharama could make out the faces of friends and family amongst the screaming banshees.

Tharama's smile fell from his face has he sent arrow after arrow into the wall of undeath. A rusty knife slashed across his thigh sending him tumbling to the ground. His dagger fended off the skeleton's pathic weapon, but too late did he notice the hulking shadow overtake him.

Freja cried out to her cousin as the giant clever decended on its deadly arch. She would never forget the look of terror in his eye as his bisected corpse hit the ground with a sickening wet thud.

Tears burned her eyes as she charged the twisted abomination. She ducked under a powerful slash that sent ghouls an skeletons into the air. With the grace of a jungle cat, Freja climbed the deformed limbs of the abomination. It trashed about wildly trying to throw her off, but she jammed her blades into its eyes. Overcoming the vile smell and swarms of flys Freja pulled back on the blades. Calling out her fallens cousins name she forced the blades back until the touched. With the last of her strength she kicked off against the abominations head pulling the blades free and sending the top of its skull away from the rest of it.

Freja did not notice the torrent of blood raining down upon her as she held her cousin's cold hand. Voices called out to her, but they sounded far away. She fought against her allies trying to pull her away from danger.

"Tharama! Tharama!"

Her tears slowly washed the blood from her face, but nothing could wash away the pain.

Less than an a few hours away large armored figures charged though the forest. They smashed aside any undead that blocked their path.

"Pick up the pace!" The leader of the group crushed the skull of a ghoul with a might blow from his warhammer. He could feel the pain of his love and it fueled the power of his attacks.

"Light protect her. . ."





Sorry its not very good everyone.

[justin]

Update!

Grom Stonefist cursed the cold air, the torn bushes pulling at his beard, and the humans' long legs. They had been running for almost two days with only dry tact, water, and no sleep. What was worse was the lack of beer. Don't humans know that the best shooting is done with a pint or two in the belly?

So lost in his grumbling, Grom didn't notice the tree roots before him and toppled head over heels. He rolled over and over cursing everything under the sun. Grom would have rolled even further had it not been for his pet snow leopard, Wintersong. Wintersong caught him by the belt with her powerful jaws and playful tossed him into the air. With yet another curse, Grom landed on his feet. His companions chuckles did nothing to improve his outlook. Grom Stonefist, one of the greatest dwarven hunters in all of Ironforge bested by a tree root.

"I need a beer!"

Gaimus Sunbow smirked at Grom's creative curses as he lept over every obstacle with the grace of his eleven forefathers. Just as quickly as it appeared his smirk vanished as he felt the pain of his homeland and kin. It broke his heart seeing the land scarred by the blight of undeath. Even the winds of magic felt tainted to his mage sense.

With a flick of his hand a ghoul burst into flames. 'All undead filth shall burn for the pain of Quel' Thalas,' he said with a snarl.

A thunderous boom echoed through the forest as Gaimus' long time friend, Sorassa flung more of her bombs into the trees. She giggled like a child with a new toy as limbs rained down.

Blood and gore smeared Gaimus' cloak and he snorted. 'Would you care to be more careful? This cloak was a gift from my mother and now its ruined!'

Sorassa rolled her eyes. 'I'm a women and I'm less girly than you elves.' With a wink she jumped upon the back of Wintersong. Grom shot her an annoyed glance. She just stuck her tongue out at the dwarf, 'You're just made you didn't think of it.'

Behind them less than fifty footmen followed. They had numbered over a hunred, but an ambush had killed more than half their number. Still even with their losses they kept moving forward to aid Quel' Thalas in its time off need.

At the head of the company stood two imposing armored men. Grim Iornfist and his younger brother Merander Lightheart. The elder brother stood a head taller and was of a stronger build. This did not take away from his younger sibling who was powerful built as well. Both wore heavy plate armor that was stainded with gore from fighting the undead. Grim's armor was black and trimmed with red runes of power. Merander's on the other hand was pure silver and marked with the symbols of the Silverhand.

Grim sliced a ghoul in half with his sword and burried his axe in the head of a damned acolyte leading the undead group. With a lift of his hand the company came to a halt in a small clearing.

'Why are we stopping,' asked Merander resting his paladin's hammer on his shoulder. "Freja is in danger!"

Without a word Grim pointed to the tree branches above them. Merander jumped back in shock as a dark figure decended gracfuly to the ground. He almost swung at the figure until he realized what it was. It was Nightsong, the rogue that was never far from Grim's side. Many people heard stories of the dark eyed woman Nightsong, but few knew just how deadly she was. In the fading daylight Merander could see that her harden leather armor was colored the same as his brothers'.

Nightsong was a lean woman slightly shorter than the brothers. A black mask hide the lower part of her face. Only Grim had seem her without the mask and she knelt before him. With a smile he stuck his weapons into the ground and placed his hands on her shoulders. He helped Nightsong to her feet. 'I've told you before, my shadow, that you never have to kneel to me. Now report.'

Merander could tell she was smiling behind the mask.

'The elves are being pushed back by the undead.' She pointed ahead. 'They are falling back to their camp, but meat wagons are close behind the main force of undead.' She drew a rough map in the dirt with her blade. 'The main force is lead by a fallen paladin and. .'

"Arthas?"

'No Lightheart. This death knight is no where near as strong as Arthas, but he still cuts down warriors like a scythe through wheat.' She added more to her map, 'In the rear a group of necromancers waits for the meat wagons protected by a group of foul monsters.' Nightsong rose to her feet, 'What are your orders?'

Grim placed a hand on his brothers shoulder. 'We keep advancing through the forest. Within the hour we should join in the battle or at least engage the undead reinforcements.'
He gathered his weapons and pointed toward the end of the clearing, 'Forward!'

As one the company surged into the clearing eager to tear apart the undead. Merander tightened his grip on his warhammer.

'Hold on Freja. I'm coming,' he tought to himself as he ran beside his brother.

At the eleven camp Freja took time to rest knowing the undead would attack again soon. Tears ran down her cheeks as images of her cousin flooded her mind. She buried her face in her hands, 'I'm so sorry Tharama.'



That's it for now! Sorry its not very good!

[justin]

Update!

Slowly, coldly, Freja released her arrow. In the blink of an eye two more arrows followed the first. Each arrow ended an enemies twisted existence and she felt a cold smile cross her face. The undead had been sending small skrimishes to test the elf camp and each time she made them pay for Tharama's death. Freja fought back tears thinking of her cousin's awful death.

Freja cried out as a net of foul smelling webbing forced her to the ground. She froze in terror at the sight before her. The thing was a freakish crossing of a man and a spider that had been dressed for death. Dark and hateful eyes glared at her with bloodlust. Her limbs refused to work and she cursed her childish fear. Since she was a little girl Freja had been terrified of spiders.

The crypt fiend lowered its head to peer into the eyes of its prey. Not since the fall of Azjol-Nerub had it felt such a sense of joy. Its voice was like striking flint. 'Be drained of life!' It raised its razor like claws for the killing blow.

With the strength that only fear can grant a person Freja rolled to the side. The monster hissed in anger. Its hissing turned to death crys as arrows pierced its undead flesh. The knives of fellow elves cut at the webbing.

"Are you alright?"

Freja took a moment to fight back the urge to vomit. 'I'm fine, thank you.' She turned her gaze to the distant tree line where the necromancer waited. 'Steel yourselves! I fear the full force of the undead is upon us.'

Necromancer Zella smiled at her own reflection in a small hand mirror. Unlike many others of her kind she manage to retain her youthful apperance. Ruby lips, stone gray eyes, raven hair, and a perfect body. She tore her eyes away from the mirro to address the dread lord Rashgarroth.

"Send word to are lord to bring the hammer down upon these fey fools."

"Don't order me around, women!"

The dread lord flapped his wings in anger and bared his fangs at the necromancer. Yet, the minion of the Burning Legion sent the signal. The earth shook as the meat weagons crushed tress under their tracks. Rashgarroth marveled at the design of the Scourge cataplut. Massive jaws took up the corpses of the enemy to be used by necromancers or flung across the battle field. Behind the meat wagons came more undead lead by the Death Knight Hellmore.

Hellmore rode upon a fel-steed, his black armor was covered in leering skulls and ornate spiders. The runeblade, Deathtouch radiated cold and seemed to draw all warmth within its self.

"Rain death upon them!"

Elves ran in terror as the meat wagons unleashed their horrific projectiles. A bloated corpse hit one warrior and exploded in a shower of gore. Not only was this demoralizing to the defenders, but the residue burned anything it touched.

An acolyte laughed as he sent another corpse flying from his meat wagon. He hoped that his work would please Zella and she would grant him the chance to become a necromancer.

"Cluck, cluck, cluck!"

'Cluck?' The acolyte leaned over in his seat to peer down. A metal chicken danced next to the wheel. He cocked an eyebrow, 'By Ner'zhul!' The chicken shook its tail at him and exploded.

Zella and Rashgarroth were slammed to the ground as another meat wagon exploded near by. They had lost three of the five and many of their troops were caught in the blast.

"Attack!"

Grim and his troops poured from the tree line smashing into the undead line. Fearing for her safety Zella fled into the woods. Rashgarroth; however, wasn't so easy to retreat and met the new foe.

Giving into his battle rage Grim's blades became a whirlwind. Every slash and chop landed with the force of a landslide. A step behind him came Nightsong protecting his flanks and turning away attacks. His power and her grace became a wonderful dance of death. He blocked the crushing blows of an abomination. She pounced over him tossing small blades into the monter's eyes. It thrash around in blind pain killing its own allies in the process. With a roar Grim hacked and chopped at the abomination until it fell. Before it even hit the ground he was moving to find more blood for his blades. His shadow followed killing as she went.

Merander's warhammer smashed aside the undead before him and his holy aura protected his allies. This was where he belonged fighting the unholy and corrupted. He became the unrelenting weapon of The Light. 'In the name of The Light I am strong, I am fearless, and I shall never falter!' He backhanded a ghoul away and shattered a pair of skeletons with his weapon.

The footmen fought in small groups lead by Grom, Gaimus, and Sorassa. Grom engaged the dread lord with Wintersong. The dread lord and the lepord circled eachother and attacked. Wintersong claws cut deep, but Rashgarroth's attack cost the lepord her eye. Grom fired his muskeet hitting the dread lord square in the chest.

'Enough of this,' clenching his chest Rashgarroth summoned his carrion swarm. The fel bats clawed and bit at his attackers. Blinded as they were many of Grom's unit were cut down by the undead. Rashgarroth lashed out at Grom as he took flight after Zella. The blow cut through his mail and tore flesh from bone.

"Come back here fiend! I've still one good arm ta bash your skull in!"

Gaimus and Sorassa fought together using their skills as warlock and mage to deadly use. Their footmen fared better as Gaimus burned the undead before many could even get within melee range. Sorassa laughed as she turned a group of ghouls to ice and her men shattered them. More of her chicken bombs ran toward the meat wagons and again she laughed even louder as the acolytes abandoned their posts in a mad rush.

Gaimus shook his head, 'Gnomes are crazy!'

Hellmore fought a handful of footman and elves. His runeblade cut dealt death with every swing. One of them manage to block his attack, but cried out in pain dropping his sword. The footman threw off his gauntlet and held his arm to his chest. The limb had turned black from frostbite. Hellmore's steed stomped the poor man to death and he impaled another with his runeblade.

A bolt of ice knocked him from the saddle and he hit the ground hard. Sorassa laughed as she sent another ice bolt at him, but he dodge to the side. A blightful energy shot forth from Hellmore's hand clenching hold of Sorassa and pulling her toward him. He hit her with the butt of his blade and brought his heel down on her before she could stand. Slowly, he lifted the runeblade above his head letting the gnome fully take in her death. Buckshot ricocheted off his armor and a fire ball almost sent his blade from his grip. Gaimus and Grom attacked as the ran toward him.

'This isn't over,' he yelled as he mounted his steed and called for a retreat.

"Is she alive, Gaimus?"

'Yes, but she needs help Grom.' Carefully they placed their wounded friend upon a footmen's shield and made way to the eleven camp.

Merander swung his warhammer in a figure-eight above his head to fend off a group of crypt fiends. Their webs were slowing down his movements and he could hardly counter their attacks. He stunned one with a powerful blow to the head, but the others attacked seeing an opening. Merander thought his time had come. An arrow burried in the lead crypt fiend's center eye changed his mind.

'I hate spiders,' yelled Freja cut a crypt fiend's legs out from under it and finished it off with another slash that took its head off. Merander smiled as he watched her slay another of the monsters as she rose. He smashed his hammer into the last one's skull as she burried her blades into its chest.

Their eyes met for the first time and they smiled. For a moment all of the choas and death was gone. She used her sword to cut away at the webs binding him trying not to get sick from the smell.

"You smell awful, Merander."

'I missed you too.,' he said looking around. 'Where's Tharama?'






That's it for now. Sorry its not very good.

[justin]

-Update-

Grim Ironfist sat alone with his head in his hands. He couldn't remember how long the battle had lasted. When the battle rage overcame him time seemed to slow down and everything turned a dark shade of crimson. Slaying the enemy was all that mattered to Grim and he charged after them with reckless abandon. He knocked two of his men unconscious when they blocked his persuit of the undead. Only Merander was strong enough to stop his brother. Grim struggled against his brothers hold until Merander told him of Sorassa.

The few remaining priests were able to heal most of her wounds, but nothing could be done to fully heal her spine. Sorassa's days of adventuring had come to an end. Grim shook is head in shame. Had he resisted the battle rage he would have been able to protect her. His stomache turned and heaved as he dwelled on the fruits of his weakness. Truly, he was his father's son and it sickened him beyond the futility of words to express.

Grim Ironfist and Merander Lightheart were born the illegitimate sons of Jordan the Bloodly Friendslayer. Their mother was a simple baker who fell victim of Jordan's stories of far away battles and his devilish charm. Jordan had visited her once or twice a year staying until he was bored. He refused to remain for the birth of either of his sons and when they were in his presence he hardly acknowledged. The only time Jordan took any pride in Grim was the day Grim had felt the battle rage for the first time. Grim had come to his brother's aide against a bully. Despite being the smaller than the bully he had beaten the poor boy senseless and turned his anger on Merander when his brother tried to stop him. Grim ceased his fury when Merander curled into a ball and whimpered for their mother.

'There is much potential in Grim,' said their father stepping out from the shadows. 'You have a great gift. You can become a great warrior. The greatest in all of Lordaeron. Just like your father.'

Grim gathered up Merander and ran. He swore that he was nothing like his father, but deep in his heart he could no despute his father's words. As always Merander forgave him and their mother comforted them. Jordon returned for his belongs and cursed them all as a waste of time. For the first time their mother saw Jordon for what he was and it broke her heart. That was the last they saw of him and Grim swore never to become like his father and to protect his family. When their mother past away from sickness Merander left to finish his trainning with The Silver Hand. Alone Grim set out to find Jordon and make him suffer for what he had done to his mother. She never truly recovered from the heartbreak and it weakened her. Allowing the sickness to ravage her body quickly and before she passed away she gave her a message.

"I love you both more than life itself. I'm sorry I can't fight any longer, but I'm happy knowing what good men you both have become.' She placed a hand to Merander's cheek. 'Merander, a noble defender with a heart of light.' She ran a hand through Grim's dark curly hair, 'Grim, the iron fist guided by a kind soul.' Tears rolled down her cheeks as she rested her hand on the pillow. Merander held her hand as she slipped away. Her last words spoken as a whisper, 'Don't hate your father he cannot help what he is. I love you both so much.' Her eyes closed and her hand slipped from Merander's. Merander let out a roar of anger that turned into an angusihed cry. He laid his head on his mother's lap and sobbed. Grim stood and turned away. The few people in the room backed away from him fearing that he would lash out at them. He stood in the doorway with his hands on the frame. The wood cracked and splintered under his grip. Silently he went back to his mother's body and held her in his arms. The brothers clung to their mother's body until the priests came to lay it to rest.


It took months for Grim to find is father and was horrorfied when he found him. Jordon had been hung from the gallows a few weeks prior to Grim arrival. It was then that he had learned of his father's awful title; The Bloody Friendslayer. When the battle rage would overcome him, Jordon would slay anything that came between him and his enemy. Many battlefield commanders chose to turn a blind eye to this due to the victories Jordon had brought about. However, the last battle Jordon entered lead to him taking more lives of his allies than the trolls. The guard at the gallows told Grim that death had to fight hard to claim Jordon. His fought snapped the rope binding his hands and managed to loosen the rope enough to speak. The guard said he shouted a women's name over and over; Lilla. His mother's name. Grim cut his father's body down, but found that he could not hack and slash at it like he wanted to days before. Somewhere deep down his father had some goodness and loved his mother. He laid his fathers body to rest in a proper grave.

Grims mind shifted towards himself and he hoped he could find the strenght to fight against the battle rage.

'Just like your father,' a voice whispered in his mind. Grim jumped to his feet, 'I'm not like you!' He heaved a rock that out weighed him over his head a sent it flying into a cluster of saplings crushing them. He flopped back down and hung his head in shame. 'I'm not my father.'

'No you're not,' said a voice behind him as a weight pressed against his back. Grim looked over his shoulder, Nightsong was leaning against his back with hands behind her head and her legs crossed. She looked like she was resting in a comfy chair at a nice inn.

'Your father couldn't control himself, nor did he want to,' he voice was soft and comforting like his mothers. 'You on the other hand try to maintain control and you have never turned your weapons on your friends.' She turned over and leaned into his ear until he could feel the soft cloth of her mask touch his skin. 'Grim, you're a good and kind man.' He shrugged, 'I know this because you helped me even though in my panic state I stabbed you. You treated my wounds and took me to safety. You're not your father. You're Grim Ironfist; comander of Ironfists of Lordaeron. You would give your life for any of us.' A smile crossed Grim's face and they sat together in silence of a few moments.

"As much as I would like to stay her using you as a comfy couch Lord Pointy Ears demands to see you and your brother."

"Very well."

The pair set off toward the command tent unaware of the burning yellow eyes watching them.



-Sorry its not very good! -

[justin]

-Update-

Freja stood with Merander outside of her uncle's command tent. Merander had made rounds helping the priests heal the wounded. She noticed how much it drained Merander to heal others. He leaned on his warhammer and dark circles had formed under his eyes. She greatly admired his selflessness and strength as healing so many was beyond most paladines at Merander's training level.

"I'm sorry about Tharama." Merander stood at his full height swinging his warhammer between his hands like a pendulum. This was his tell that he was nervous or uncomfortable. He gazed into Freja's eyes, 'I should have been there. So many lives were lost in our foolish attempts at retaking Lordaeron. We could have.' A stinging slap silenced his words.

Freja's expression was a mixture of anger, guilt, and sadness. 'I onced asked you to stay with me and stay your hand.' She ran her hand gently across his cheek. 'It was wrong of me to ask such a thing when orcs and trolls threatened your homeland.' She rested her head against his chest. 'My heart ached with longing to see you again and I dreamed of the day when could return to me. Your homeland and your brother needed you more. I cannot blame you for Tharama. You came to our aid knowing doing so could sign your death warrant.'

'Trust me,' a grin crossed Merander's face. 'Grim was more than happy to punch Grand Marshal Garithos into unconsciousness.'

She gave him a weak smile, 'Still, Tharama died in battle protecting his homeland. A ranger can ask for no greater honor. Forgive my anger before.'

'There is nothing to forgive,' he gently pushed her away. 'I must be honest with you Freja.' He fumbled nervously for one of the small poaches that contained his few belongings. Finally, he found the poach he wanted. 'I didn't leave just for my brother or Lordaeron. I had to leave for you.'

Freja's face twisted in pain as if an arrow struck her heart. 'What have a done to earn such scorne?' Her tall elven ears bent to the sides as they always did when Freja was upset. She looked at him pleadingly tears pooling in her eyes. 'Please,' her voice a heartbreaking whisper.

"No, no, nn-no!"

Merander stepped back waving his hands, 'No I didn't mean it like that!' The poach fell from his hand and he clumsily caught it before it hit the ground. He let out a sigh and smiled nervously. Lowering himself to one knee Merander opened the poach and offered it to Freja with both hands.

'There's no way I can use words to express how much I love you Freja.' Merander lowered his gaze. 'I pray this can say what my words just can't.'

Freja took the poach. Wide eyed she tossed the cloth away. In the palm of her hand rested a silver neckless attachet to a breathtaking blue spphire pendent. Like her own blue eyes a faint glow radiated from within the gemstone.

"The gemstone was the only gift my father gave to my mother. She said in someway it was my father's way of asking her to marry him. Not in the normal sense anyway."

She held the neckless to her 'chest. 'Are you asking me,' she let the question hang in the air.

He rose to his feet, 'Yes, I-I am.' Freja peered into the gemstone agian as tears ran down her cheeks. She wiped her eyes with her sleeve and brushed aside a locke of her blonde hair. Freja lunged at Merander throwing her arms around him.

"Yes!"

Merander wrapped his arm around her waist and spun on his heels laughing. He leaned back holding her up as if she were but a small child. They laughed together as Merander pulled her close still spinning. Merander became dizzy and tryed to stop, but their momentum was too great. They fell to the soft ground arms flailing. Freja half laughed and screamed. She laid on top of him running her fingers through his short brown hair.

'This is like when we first met,' she said kissing his forehead.

''Only this time you weren't teasing me from the tree branches."

"You tricked me into kissing you with a gemstone this time instead of a song."

"Well, the only difference is then you landed in my arms gracefully. This time you landed on me like a drunk ogre."

Merander started to push himself upright, but she forced him back down. She kissed him passionately and deeply.

'Well, you don't kiss like a drunk ogre,' he said with a smirk.

A cough turned their attension away from eachother. One of Freja's uncle's guards stood in the entrance of the tent with a disgusted look upon his face.

"Your uncle is ready to start the battle council. Once Grim Ironhide arrives we will start."

The two now engaged lovers got to their feet with red cheeks and embarrassed smiled. They began to enter the tent holding hands.

'Dog lover,' said the guard under his breath.

Freja lashed out with her boot catching him on the side of his face. With a groan of pain he hit the ground like a rock.

"If he's the dog, than why are you at his feet?"

The guard spat out a stream of blood and some teeth. With another groan he passed out in his own blood.

"Nice kick."

"Thank you."

The shade watched them enter the tent. If it still had a face it would have smiled. 'Kill the elf to break the paladin.' Its gaseous black forum difted around the tent to better hear the war council.


-Sorry its not very good. -

[justin]

-Update!-

Lord Anandor Suntreader sat upon his fine oak throne above the other members of his defense force. He ran his finger along the perfectly carved patterns of leaves and ivy. Only the best trees and the best carpenters were worthy to be of service to Lord Suntreader. He held out his hand and a servant girl gave him a mirror. Anandor smiled at his perfect reflection. Long flowing white hair, sculpted cheeks and chin, and burning green eyes. Most important was his long ears taller than most by two inches. The mark of a great leader.

He looked down at his son, Athaniar. Athaniar could be mistaken for his father's twin, but his ears lacked the greatness of his father's. Still, thought Anandor, he was still the perfect tool for bringing the Suntreader family to even greater power. Unlike his half brother Tharama who only smuged the name Suntreader.

His attenion turned to the warriors gathered in his tent. Elf lords of lesser status had joined him in this escort mission. In truth, the lords, the mission, and the rapple of elderly and weak under his protection were beneath him. They did have their purposes however. Warriors to protect him, a mission that lead him away from the real battle, and people to call him their savior. 'Things are looking up indeed.'

A cheer rang out from the back of the tent where the humans and the dwarf sat. They slamed their mugs of beer on the table as Lightheart and his niece entered the tent hand-in-hand. It was bad enough having the filthy things here, but to have his own flesh and blood touching one. The footmen slapped Lightheart on the back and shook his hand. Freja showed off a neckless to the group.

'Could it be? No she didn't,' said Lord Suntreader to himself.

'So when's the wedding laddy,' asked Grom as he pushed a beer into Merander.

'I really haven't given it much tought with all the undead running around and all.' He took a drink and cocked an eyebrow at Grom. 'Where did you get this?'

Grom drank deep of his mug, 'Old Lord Pointy Ears was more than happy share a few barrels with us savin' his hide and all.'

An elf lord shot Grom a murderous glance and Grom let out a loud belch in return. Before the elf could say anything Lord Suntreader steped down and walked toward his niece. 'Dear niece, it looks like congratulations are in order.'

'Thank you uncle,' Freja said bowing her head.

Lord Suntreader didn't even look at Lightheart, but instead continued to speak to Freja as if he wasn't in the room. 'I know your mother and father would be so happy to see you engages. Even if your future husband didn't meet their standards.' His words dripped with posion.

'I'm sure her parents would be happy to know their daughter is marrying a man who fights on the frontlines instead of sipping wine in the safety of camp.' A smirk crossed Merander's face knowing the jib struck the elf's honor.

"Maybe you will be on time for your wedding unlike today's battle."

Merander began to reach for his warhammer as a some of his men got to their feet ready to fight.

"My baby brother is never late."

Grim entered the tent with Nightsong at his side and Sgt. Runesmith behind them. Nightsong was examining what looked like a tooth, but with a shrug she tossed it over her shoulder.

Sgt. Runesmith kicked one of the footmen who was still sitting, 'On yer feet boys! Show some prober respect!' As they jumped to their feet saluting he jammed the company standard into the ground before Lord Suntreader. The standard bore a mailed fist on a field of red. "It is my honor to present Commander Grim Ironfist and the Ironfists of Lordaeron!"

Grim stood before Lord Suntreader towering over him. 'Thank you fo allowing us to join your council.' He saw the neckless Freja wore and gave his brother a hearty grin. 'As I was saying, my unit wasn't late. We engaged undead that would have overtaken your flank had we not stopped them.'

Lord Suntreader shifted uncomfortably, 'Yes, well, thank you sir.' He returned to his sit. 'Now, we should go over our battle plan.' He beckoned for his aids who brought a table and a map. 'The undead have retreated back into the woods.' He pointed out the tree line on the map, 'Their numbers have dwindled, if we push the attack we can wipe them all out.'

The gathered elf lords and warriors gave their aprovale.

'Forgive me my lord, but that is unwise.'

'You dare speak out of turn human,' challenged an elf lord. He went silent as Nightsong placed a hand on her blade.

'First, the Ironfist of Lordaeron are here to aid the High Elves, but we are not under your command.' He took the map from the table, 'Second, the undead may lack for numbers now, but soon they'll raise your dead to join them. To go into the tree line after them will only increase their ranks faster. Only a fool gives his emeny more soldiers.'

"How dare you! You filthy human dog!" Lord Suntreader rose to his feet and tossed the table aside. 'I should have you whipped for insulting me!'

In the blink of an eye Nightsong had drawn her blades and cleared half the distance to Lord Suntreader. Athaniar drew his sword and stood in defense of his father. With a flick of her Athaniar's blade was spinning through the air. She jumped into the air kicking the blade away with one foot and used the other to knock Athaniar away. As she landed, Nightsong crossed her blades against Lord Suntreader's throat.

"Never speak ill of my lord!"

Lord Suntreader's expression turned to fear as Nightsongs eyes burned into his mind. Never in his life had he been so afraid.

"Nightsong, enough!"

'As you wish, my lord,' she sheath her blades and turned away. Athaniar got to his feet and charged her.

''You'll pay for attacking my father!"

His punches were wild and Nightsong blocked them with ease. She swatted a jab aside and ducked under a hook. She snaked through his guard and held to finger against his throat. He froze, shocked at how she again defeated him without even trying.

'You are very brave young Athaniar.' She withdrew her hand and patted him on the arm. 'Your father is unworthy of having such SONS.'

Everyone flinched at the sting of her words.


-Sorry its not very good!-

[justin]

-Update!-

Lord Suntreader sat speachless as Grim took control of the war council. The big man handed the map to Stg. Runesmith who held it up for all to see.

'Listen up and listen well,' Grim made eye contact with everyone in the command tent only pausing when he look at Nightsong. 'From what I was told upon entering this camp I know one thing,' he turned his burning gaze to Suntreader. 'You idiots have been so hell bent on personal glory that you have forsaken your mission and sent many good warriors to die!'

'How dare you,' shouted an elf lord as he jumped to his feet slamming his fist on the table.

'How dare you,' shouted Grim pointing at the elf. 'These people were entrusted to you to lead them to saftey! Yet, here you are sending wave after wave of warriors is some delued dream that you can win the field. Tell, when you have wasted the last warrior's life will you arm the children and send them to doom?'

With a defeated sigh the elf sat down with his head down in shame. Most of the eleven warriors did the same, but thier leaders wore looks of hatred on thier faces. One of the things elves hate most is being proven they are in the wrong.

Grim returned to the map and pointed to the river. 'We'll break camp and head for this crossing. It's the only bridge for many miles and once we get our wards across my men will destory it. The river is too wide and too fast for the undead to attempt to swim and none of your scouts have seen any gargoyles. With any luck they are still with far north with Arthas.' He took the map and rolled it up, 'The main portion of our forces will act as a rear guard. Sorassa has a few bombs that can take care of the bridge, but we won't have much time to cross before they go off. Despite my orders for her to rest she has begun building a trigger. She'll send up a flare as soon as the bombs are in place.' Grim handed the map to one of the elf warriors. 'Does that meet your approval, Lord Suntreader,' he asked give a slight bow.

"Yes, your plan has some merit."

'Thank you, lord,' Grims words held a hint of loathing. 'Make ready to break cam,' he turned to the wall of the tent, 'Nightsong!'

Nightsong drew her blades and sliced through the canvas almost decapating the shade behind it. The undead monster dodged her attacks with alarming speed. In a state of panic the shade lashed out with its claw. The claw barely missed her face, but it tore away the mask covering her cheek. Some of the scars on her cheek could be seen and the few who saw them stepped back in shock.

'N-not you,' the shade cried out in fear. It fled from Nightsong screaming in terror as it dodged arrows and spells. With its unnatural speed it was far out of range in a matter of minutes.

Nightsong pulled and tugged at her ruined mask trying to keep it in place, but to no avail. She could feel the eyes of everyone on her and her their whispering. She turned to Grim who was walking toward her with a look that she thought was pity. Without a word she took off through the hole in the tent.

'Nightsong,' he called after her, but when he reached the opening she was long gone. Merander placed a hand on his shoulder.

'We'll find her brother,' he said as he and Freja nudge past him.

"Thank you. . ."

Grim turned back to the gathered warriors. 'Make ready to break camp! The undead will be here sooner than we tought.' He pulled the company standard from the ground and with a nod to Lord Suntreader he left the command tent.

Suntreader sat with a few of the elf lords gathered around him. With a wave of his hand Athaniar and the elf warriors exited the tent. 'I want Grim Ironfist's head on a platter before the sunsets and I want his brother to fall into the river.' He placed a bag of gold on the arm of his throne. 'Wealth to whomever does the deed.'

"I doutb you really want to do that."

All of the elf lords jumped back and drew their blades. Leaning against the throne was Nightsong blancing a dagger on her index finger. Her mask was pulled down so they could all see her scars.

'Any who rasies arms against my lord will suffer more than I have,' she flipped the dagger into the air and caught it with her other index finger. 'Your nightmares pale compared to the pain I have felt. For my lord I would suffer it again,' she spun the dagger around with blinding speed pinned the bag of gold to the throne. Without a word she stepped into the dark corner of the tent and vanished like a raven at midnight.

Suntreader pushed past the other elves both angery and terrorfied. Before exiting the tent he looked back at the shaking elf lords, 'You know what to do. Don't fail me!'

The shade scurried through the dark woods fearing the fate that awaited it.

"Not her, not her, not her, it can't be her, not her. . . ."

-thanks for reading!-

[justin]

Naruto: Lost Kin From the Heavens, Burning Truth


An unnatural silence hung in the air of the forest as a trio of young people hid in the canopy of a tree. They wore the uniforms of shin obi of the Hidden Leaf Village. Amongst the members of the Hidden Leaf Village none of the group stood out. Jin; a young man of dark hair, brown eyes, and somewhat good looks, served as the group’s unofficial leader. Akira; the youngest of the team with long blonde hair pulled back into a pony tail, tallest of the group, lacking any real mass and a backbone. Last, was Suki; a young woman of fair complexion, hazel eyes, and short brown hair. Where Jin and Akira joined the ranks of shin obi willing Suki was pressed into joining by her father in the name of tradition.

Jin scanned the trees and brush intently longing for the chance to prove himself worthy of becoming a jonin. On the branch next to him Akira checked and rechecked the contents of his green flak vest with nervous shaking hands. Between them stood Suki leaning against the tree’s trunk wishing she was back home with her books.

‘We should go back,’ said Akira fumbling with a scroll. ‘Jin, we weren’t supposed to scout this far ahead of the others.’ He shoved the scroll back into his vest, ‘Kenji is going to be so mad.’

“Shut up!”

Startled by Jin’s outburst Akira almost slipped from his branch. Suki gave them an annoyed glance and withdrew back into her own thoughts.

‘We’re going to stay here until we find some of these invaders and take one back to the village.’ Jin’s eyes burned with wild ambition. ‘Once we find out what county they come from we’ll know what we’re dealing with.’

‘And you’ll get that medal you’ve always wanted,’ muttered Akira under his breath.

‘They don’t come from another county,’ Suki said turning her gaze toward the sky through the leaves. ‘When I was a little girl my grandmother told me stories.’ The wind blew the branches apart and she caught a glimpse of something moving across the sky. ‘She told me that her mother was told by her mother about our true history. All of the people of this land came from the frozen north, but even that wasn’t our true homeland.’

Jin and Akira gave each other worried glances. Jin’s hand drifted toward his hip poach as she continued.

‘She told me about how the daimyo and kage made deals with each other and demons to turn from the light that is the beacon to all humans.’ Her eyes became distant, ‘Somewhere out there,’ she pointed to the sky, ‘others like us fight for greater things than who has the greatest shin obi or country.’ Suki slumped down on the branch, ‘They keep us safe from inhuman things and chaos itself.’

Akira shifted to a different branch to the left of Suski and Jin moved to the right of her.

‘My grandmother gave me this,’ she pulled a medallion from her under her vest. It bore the symbol of a double headed eagle. ‘She told me that in time I would learn all that she knew so that the true history would not die with her.’ A tear rolled down her cheek as painful memories resurfaced. ‘The next day I went to see her, but she was gone. Not just her, but her whole house hold was gone. Every helper, every pet, and every piece of furniture was gone.’ She wiped away her tears away, ‘I went to my mother, but she would only cry. I asked my father and he told me to forget her. He said that it was the will of the hokage that we all forget. I went to the hokage and his words were: only our history is important and it would be best for me to pretend that my grandmother had died long ago.’

She was about to say more, but went silent seeing Jin and Akira draw their kunai.
‘The hokage is right,’ said Jin. ‘What you are saying makes you a traitor. No one will miss you Suki and I doubt we’ll even need to think of an excuse about what happened to you.’

A quick smile crossed her lips, ‘Well, if you won’t waste time thinking of an excuse to my death than at least think about this. How is it we have video cameras, power lines, motors for boats, even cooling units, but we never see them built or any place that builds them?’

The young men’s face suddenly grew pale with doubt, but quickly twisted in anger. Jin drew back his weapon to strike as Akira position himself to block her escape. Suki just sat there with a smile on her facing knowing in death she would find vindication. She closed her eyes ready for death, but a loud bang snapped them back open.

Where Jin’s chest should have been was a great gaping hole. She could see what remained of his heart trying to beat in vain. He looked at her his face racked with pain and terror. Voiceless he begged her for help and then his lifeless body plummeted to the ground.

Akira turned away wide eyed with fear. He lost the contents of his bladder as he leapt from the tree. He was only a few feet away from the tree when there came another loud bang and his head exploded into a fine red mist.

Suki took note of the wet spot on his pants as he hit the ground. ‘I always figured you would meet your end without clean underwear.’ She removed her hip poach and then her flak vest and tossed them away. The second nature of her training screamed at her to run or hide to strike from the shadows. Such thoughts were pushed aside as she dropped gracefully from the tree. Long ago, Suki had tired of this way of life and the faces of those she was ordered to kill while they slept. Did any of them truly deserve to die? Again, the will of the hokage and daimyo was the only thing that mattered.

‘Not anymore,’ she thought to herself.

Landing a few feet away from Jin’s body Suki stood tall and proud. Death would find her unafraid, but part of her hoped that it wasn’t death that awaited her, but a new life. She scanned the underbrush for any sign of movement.

To her surprise, half of a large bush stood upright. A hand reached out from the bush and pulled back the top leaves. The appearance of the bush was dispelled and before her stood a man. He wore strange a strange uniform that seemed to blend in with the environment almost flawlessly. Unlike her flak vest he wore sturdy body armor across his chest, shoulders, forearms, and lower legs. Like her he wore a hip poach, but Suki doubted it was full of scrolls, kunai, and the other shin obi items that filled hers. A helmet covered most of his head and some kind of eye piece extended from the helmet obscuring his right eye.

The stranger placed a hand to the side of his helmet and spoke in a language that Suki had never heard before. Has he spoke she examined his lean face, his skin tone was tanned like the people of the southern coast. His cheek bones were high and the cheeks themselves were sunken. The eye that Suki could make out was different from any person she had ever met. There weren’t very many veins and the iris seemed to change color at random.

As he continued to talk to himself Suki was drawn to his weapon. At first she thought it was some kind of strange crossbow, but it had no prod, bridle, or any visible bolts. He held it in his left hand and it was more than half as tall has him. She could guess that the compartment by the trigger help bolts of great power. The scholar in Suki wanted to examine the weapon and make notes of it.

‘This is trooper Val to Imperial Guard high command.’ Trooper Val waited for a reply from his commanders.

“This high command, go ahead trooper.”

He pressed down on his vox-com. ‘I just engaged another scouting squad, but one seems ready to surrender.’

“Do you think it’s a trick trooper?”

“No sir, from what I learned from their language it sounds like she was ready to leave them.”

There was a long pause making Trooper Val uneasy. ‘Its never a good thing when command makes you wait,’ thought Val.
“Trooper, this is Lord General Militant Scanlon.”

Without thinking Val stood at attention, ‘Yes sir!’

“Bring the shin obi back to base. His knowledge of this area and this so-called Hidden Leaf Village will be very valuable.”

‘As you command my lord.’

‘Meet with Sergeant Noel’s patrol. They escort you back to base. That is all trooper,’ the vox went dead.

‘Yes my lord,’ Val shouldered his sniper rifle know as a hotshot lasgun. He took a moment to remember what he had learned of the women’s language. With a smile he spoke to her.

“Lucky day your’s is. Now come you with me.”

Suki cringed at his use of her language, but smiled knowing her new life was about to begin.



-let me know what you think-