Conquest of the Horde

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(( Drawbacks inside. ))
Spoiler:
Killer: A group of nameless NPC's, looking for slaves.

Killed: Sherai Duskstep.

Resurrector: Darun Clatterhoof.

Short term effects: Extreme soreness in all of her body. Inability to walk. Flashbacks of the event. Bruises from the neck down.

Long term effects: Hatred to Goblins, humans and ogres. Broken right leg, and left shoulder. Heavy depression. Generally reduced physical abilities.

Permanent effects: Scars across her stomach, back, right thigh and a long, straight one across her left shoulder, going down her back. Weakened limbs (The broken ones. Prone to being broken again quite easily). Even more pale than before, due to lack of blood. Traumatized of Mulgore. Easily enraged by Ogres, Goblins and Humans. Fear of guns.

The moon's glow shined over Mulgore through the darkness of the cold night, the sounds of nearby crickets and the wind was all that could be heard around the mountains around the edge of the land. A small cottage, hand-crafted out of the most basic resources stood strong on a flat area in the Mulgore mountains, well out of sight and a stone's throw from the barrens.

Sherai lay atop a hand-crafted bed inside the home, resting peacefully on her side, one armed draped over a blonde man that lay beside her, having his arms under and around the woman in return. They were both at peace, to say the least, having turned in after a long day for some well deserved rest, or at least that's what they hoped to achieve. Beside the bed rested a large tiger, sleeping peacefully as well in a large, padded and open box, being a make-shift bed for the beast.

It all seemed too perfect, until a noise was heard in the distance. Footsteps, a lot of them. An assorted group of humans, goblins and an ogre approached the small cottage, talking among them about a slave of some sort. The initial noise didn't wake the sleeping couple, until a loud slam, followed by wood cracking resonated throughout the small home. Sherai's eyes burst open, and without hesitation, the woman leaped off the bed to grab her nearby axe, quiver and bow. The woman wasn't the only one to wake, as did the man that was with her, and the large beast beside the bed.

The group burst into the home, all with weapons drawn. Guns, swords and large maces. The goblin leading the group approached the bedroom, only to be greeted by the trio. "Hello, elves." He exclaimed in a mocking tone. "You're prisoners now. Come with us peacefully, or we'll do so-" The Goblin was cut off from a nearby human exclaiming loudly; "OR WE'LL SLIT YA' THROAT!"

For a moment, it seemed everyone paused to mentally facepalm at the interruption from the human, but the scenario quickly took a turn for the worst. Without questioning, Sherai pulled her bow back, launching an arrow that flew true and stabbed through the human's chest, the same one that interrupted the Goblin.

And so, the battle began. Being in such a small area, outnumbered and outgunned, it came to the inevitable outcome that someone had to die. A casualty on the large group's side, and two from the trio. Sherai and her tiger fell to the ground, beaten and injured heavily as they slowly began to bleed out onto the wooden floor of the home. The man, however, was captured and taken by the group, leaving as soon as the battle came to a halt with amused laughter.
"Blood... Pain... Sorrow..." The Earth whispered. Alone he stood, the ground beneath him shaking in the black planes of his mind. "But where?" He asked aloud, his voice bellowing to the empty darkness of this voice. "Seek, from the sun..." And with a start, Darun awoke, his gray storm eyes peering left and right. A simple tent, constructed of sturdy hide stood, sheltering the large Tauren male... His black fur, glistening with sweat. Yet another tremor of his nightmares, the spirits unrest was his own.

He peered besides him, the curled form of the Human still asleep, sound in her slumber... The Tauren exhaled a gentle sigh, standing up and silently clopping his way out to the cold night-air, donning his armor and his heavy wooden maces. He peered to the slowly setting moon, his brow furrowing. There was work to be done, and he does not know why it was he to do so. He muttered a prayer to the Eye of the Earthmother, soon turning as he began running... The moonlight bathing his skin, a ghostly howl emitting from him as soon, the form of the ghost-wolf was all that was seen, sprinting towards the setting moon. Towards the west.

He raced for what felt like hours, the blazing sun of the barrens rising upon him as he ran ahead, his body knowing no exhaustion. He did not know how, he knew the path... But he simply did. He had learned not to doubt the wills of the spirit. Making his way, his stride slowing down as he reached a seemingly abandoned cottage, the building broken and bruised... Shifting from his form in a flash of mystical blue light, the Tauren frowned and moved slowly. He felt the earth's grip. His heart clenched. The bleeding form slowly revealing to him.

A woman, Sin'dorei, and a saber, both lay dead and beaten in a horrendous matter. It was not the saber's work, but of blunt weapons, and no doubt firearms. The Tauren's lip curled to a gentle snarl, the house broken and ruined... There was sign of evident struggle, but no doubt the girl was dead. Confused, the Tauren closed his eyes and focused, trying to gain sense of what he was to do. When he recalled, the scar upon his chest. He shuddered, but clenched his eyes tighter, slowly opening them. In silence, and caution, he lifted and carried the girl in his arms to his tent, a long and silent stride. He had much to think of...

It was hours, all spent on hard tedious work. The chants set, the pyre in place, and the girl laid humbly nude upon the large stone bench, softened by a mattress. The Tauren, outstretched his arms as he began chanting aloud, his voice booming... The pool of water besides the girl rippled. The earthen mound of stone, trembled. The fire besides her, crackled. And the wind-bells above her, chimed loudly, he began calling...

"Earth, embrace unto you this woman... Water, grant her the life only you may give... Fire, call unto your blaze to give warmth to her heart once more... Air, grant her your sounds, and your guidance... May the ancestors guide you, my friend..."

He huffed aloud, his chants continuing, the many elements mixing, a shifting image of life, of death, and the cycle of them both... The loud chants accompanied by the Element's fickle voices, as the Shaman began his ritual.
Darkness... Floating in a void of nothingness. Silence...

The woman's eyes slowly opened, however, they weren't her own eyes, or at least she thought. As her vision came to focus, a scene began to play out in front of her. The same scene that happened the night before, in her own home. Accurate to every last detail, with every sound and every movement. She watched, not having much of a choice. She tried closing her eyes, but ultimately failed, forced to watch her own death and the death of her beloved companion once more.

A single tear rolled down her cheek... Or at least she felt it slide down as the scene slowly arrived to its end. By the time the group left the battered home, the woman was in tears. She was sobbing loudly, but couldn't hear a thing. The darkness took place again, giving her only the sensation of the tears running down her face for what seemed like hours. Slowly, despite her uncontrollable crying, she began to realize this was the end for her. The woman felt a pain in her heart... A void... Emptiness. She needed to do something... She couldn't have died yet.

Slowly relaxing, the Sin'dorei woman felt the tears stop, replaced by a noticeable nothingness. Another hour passed... Or at least that's how it felt to her as she remained suspended in what seemed to be an empty void. However, the woman began to hear sounds... A gentle breeze of wind... Running water... Crackle of flame... Rocks hitting other rocks. She quickly perked up, or at least she felt she did. In said void, it seemed the woman lacked a physical form. It was not long before those sounds began forming something more recognizable... Words.

"Sherai, my dear..." An unmistakable voice hit the woman. It was no other than her grandmother, the woman she idolized all of her life, from birth until the point of death. "You're young... The world is large..." The same voice continued speaking, which slowly began whipping at Sherai's emotions, causing her to burst into tears once more. "You've found love... I'm proud of you, my dear..." Slowly, the image of Sherai's grandmother began to form in front of her. An old woman, with long, faded red hair, but seeming quite healthy in her appearance. "But this won't do... Go get him back... Live your life to its fullest..."

As quickly as the voice appeared, it faded away, leaving the woman in a crying fit of sadness, rage and depression all at once. Another interruption came, causing the woman to pause her fit momentarily. The sounds were the ones of the stones, the wind, the fire and the stream of water. Except, this time, they began growing louder and louder, almost to a deafening force. If that wasn't bad enough, Sherai began to feel her body drifting from side to side, despite it being invisible. The drifting became more violent, becoming outright pushes from side to side. She tried to scream, but no sound came out, and with a sudden wave of force, she felt her body hurled upwards at a tremendous force.

What happened next was something she would have a hard time forgetting. The woman felt as if she was flying, until her skin suddenly began to burn, feeling like she's just been thrown into a large fire. The pain was horrible, unbearable, even, but there was nothing she could do to resist it. Her eyes frantically looked around, but she saw nothing but darkness.

The burning sensation came to a stop, but was quickly replaced by a feeling of being crushed by something massive, heavy and solid. Her body was in wracking pains, and she was praying for the moment she would open her eyes, and wake up from the nightmare she thought she was experiencing. Crushing was soon replaced with a shortness of breath, then drowning, which continued for a few long minutes, before being replaced by feeling razor sharp object fly at her in insane speeds, slashing through her skin with ease and leaving a horrible, stinging pain.

With a loud gasp, the woman opened her eyes to see the skies of Mulgore, the light of dawn starting to take place in the horizon. Her body was in wracking pains, and she failed to even move when she tried to jump up and have a look around. Breathing heavily, gasping for air, the woman's eyes flickered around nervously to try and find something, but found nothing but mountain peaks and the sky. The pain was almost enough to take her consciousness, but it had a certain warmth in it... A warmth she didn't feel last time she 'woke up'...