05-16-2011, 09:53 PM
"Come to me coward! Fight as a true warrior!" bellowed Garin Elfcleaver, charging on behind the fleeing Night Elven glaive thrower. The orc fought on through the debris struck up as the contraption tore through the brush of Mirkfallon Lake, leading him farther and farther from his group of men.
Suddenly the glaive thrower ground to a halt, a cloaked form diving out from it. Immediately the Warlord found himself surrounded on all sides, lithe Elven figures slipping out from the trees and from behind the rocky scape of the Stonetalon Mountains. Garin took a step back, bracing with his axe- As he saw them draw their blades and bows, steel glinting menacingly in the shadows, he realized the futility of this battle.
Amongst the ranks of the hooded Elven scouts emerged a grizzled figure, body maimed by steel and seared by flame. A strip of leather was wrapped around one eye, ferocious scars dragging down the right cheek of the mutilated eye. The elf bowed his head, a predatory grin displaying his missing teeth.
"Hail, Warlord. How do you fare?"
The Warlord's eyes went wide under his helm, but he cared not to respond- with a cry of bloodlust he seized up his axe, charging towards the marred elf. With a flash of cold steel daggers flew his way, clattering against the orc's pauldron as he bore his right shoulder in his advance.
Arrows began to sink into his back, seeming to seek any bare flesh they could, stinging him like so many vicious serpents- Though he did not know it at the time, they were just as venomous. As he reached the Elven commander his fellow scouts converged upon him, all besetting the Warlord with blade, mace, and fist. Armor flew off from the brutal strikes, and many of the assailing elves were brought to the ground by Garin's axe- And when the axe was torn from his grip, his fists rained down upon the waves of approaching Preservers.
Amidst the chaos of battle, though, Garin's strength waned. Each swing was taken with a heavier fist- each step pulled him towards the earth, entreating him to rest. His eyes fluttered, attempting to stave off the encroaching venom of the scout's arrows- before he could succumb to the poison, though, his weary eyes went wide, and a pained cry arose from the Warlord. Through his chest and out from his back jutted an Elven warglaive, and into his eyes a single glowing eye of a Kaldorei stared back.
No words were exchanged- the last that the Warlord could remember was Therandes' dagger driving into his eye, sending him spiraling into the dark grip of death.
The war drew to a close, soon after. Garin's body was laid to rest amongst his fallen soldiers, and bathed in flame as the tradition of the orcs details- His spirit lingered on, though, brooding over his abrupt departure.
Then, as Garin recollected upon the war, a voice broke his silent reverie. In the realm of the departed rang a voice; "Garin Elfcleaver..."
-----------------------------------------------------------
Killer: Therandes Forestcaller
Resurrected by: Grakor Ghostice (Resurrected as a Spirit Companion)
Permanent Drawbacks:
-Permanently bound to Grakor.
-May only revive as a Spirit Companion (Ghost).
Suddenly the glaive thrower ground to a halt, a cloaked form diving out from it. Immediately the Warlord found himself surrounded on all sides, lithe Elven figures slipping out from the trees and from behind the rocky scape of the Stonetalon Mountains. Garin took a step back, bracing with his axe- As he saw them draw their blades and bows, steel glinting menacingly in the shadows, he realized the futility of this battle.
Amongst the ranks of the hooded Elven scouts emerged a grizzled figure, body maimed by steel and seared by flame. A strip of leather was wrapped around one eye, ferocious scars dragging down the right cheek of the mutilated eye. The elf bowed his head, a predatory grin displaying his missing teeth.
"Hail, Warlord. How do you fare?"
The Warlord's eyes went wide under his helm, but he cared not to respond- with a cry of bloodlust he seized up his axe, charging towards the marred elf. With a flash of cold steel daggers flew his way, clattering against the orc's pauldron as he bore his right shoulder in his advance.
Arrows began to sink into his back, seeming to seek any bare flesh they could, stinging him like so many vicious serpents- Though he did not know it at the time, they were just as venomous. As he reached the Elven commander his fellow scouts converged upon him, all besetting the Warlord with blade, mace, and fist. Armor flew off from the brutal strikes, and many of the assailing elves were brought to the ground by Garin's axe- And when the axe was torn from his grip, his fists rained down upon the waves of approaching Preservers.
Amidst the chaos of battle, though, Garin's strength waned. Each swing was taken with a heavier fist- each step pulled him towards the earth, entreating him to rest. His eyes fluttered, attempting to stave off the encroaching venom of the scout's arrows- before he could succumb to the poison, though, his weary eyes went wide, and a pained cry arose from the Warlord. Through his chest and out from his back jutted an Elven warglaive, and into his eyes a single glowing eye of a Kaldorei stared back.
No words were exchanged- the last that the Warlord could remember was Therandes' dagger driving into his eye, sending him spiraling into the dark grip of death.
The war drew to a close, soon after. Garin's body was laid to rest amongst his fallen soldiers, and bathed in flame as the tradition of the orcs details- His spirit lingered on, though, brooding over his abrupt departure.
Then, as Garin recollected upon the war, a voice broke his silent reverie. In the realm of the departed rang a voice; "Garin Elfcleaver..."
-----------------------------------------------------------
Killer: Therandes Forestcaller
Resurrected by: Grakor Ghostice (Resurrected as a Spirit Companion)
Permanent Drawbacks:
-Permanently bound to Grakor.
-May only revive as a Spirit Companion (Ghost).