The Talador Battle

The Brightest Star

Disclaimer: This a work within the universe of Warcraft, owned by Blizzard. The characters are all original, the universe however is not. Anything recognisable, like locations, names and so forth is exclusively owned by Blizzard and I make no profit on the behalf of their work. This is a fanmade vent-story.

The battle raged on, the ground-shaking explosions and continuous curtains of projectiles giving the otherwise wonderful, blue sky of Talador an ominous bright red shade. The Naaru may have not forgotten them, but they were definitely not favouring them at this given time. Elrue shook her head and with it the blasphemous thoughts about their revered Light deities, stepping to the side and narrowly avoiding a flaming, steel-tip arrow. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, dirt and smoke staining her otherwise porcelain, pale skin as her mana reserves were getting rapidly depleted from the intensity of her spells, as well as the clear lack of rest between them. Her stave had lost the bright purple glow about it, barely even lit with a dim violet, yet still she stubbornly pressed on and shot the arcane conjured projectiles from the crystal atop of it. 

“LOOK OUT!” came the shrill shriek of her kinswoman who proceeded to charge towards Elrue, throwing her whole form on the magi’s frail form, saving the nearly exhausted arcane weaver from a rather ill fate that the cannon projectile would have brought her. The Rangari was quick to stand, offering her mail-clad gauntlet to the unfortunate, trampled yet still alive and kicking Draenei. The clumsy one was quick to her hooves with the help of Zhalrulia, an exiled Rangari with a rather tragic story to tell. The Rangari lifted the piece of clothing covering her mouth, smirking mischievously at her before hoisting her gun up and shooting an orc between the eyes with deadly precision, a quite impressive feat, considering she did not even look through her scope.  Elrue offered her a kind smile for saving her, again, nodding in gratefulness as her big, azure eyes travelled searchingly across the battlefield, where fire and black clashed with white, blue and Light.

Her smog-covered face lightened up upon noticing a familiar figure standing out of the crowd, bashing his crystal, gargaduan mace against the armours of the orc brutes, sending them positively flying back into their fellow brutes. As if sensing her eyes on her, the gigantic figure of the ancient Vindicator shifted and his eyes met hers, offering her a fleeting, yet reassuring smile, before raising his hand and knocking a warlock a few feet away with a bright flash of Light. 

The orcs were seemingly very displeased with Kheran, that was the big draenei’s name, piling up and charging four at a time towards him, their meagre life’s goal to put the inconvenience the male was down. His ancient armour, forged in the very lands of Argus, however, protected him well enough from the blows of the enraged barbarians. That was until he attracted the attention of the nearby group of warlocks, that with the help of a dozen orcs, orchestrated a well-thought out hit from all sides on the Vindicator’s form, managing to only bring him to his knees, the Light surrounding his form and protecting him, yet even that holy shield begun cracking under the sheer pressure of axes, arrows and shadow bolts. Elrue’s eyes grew wide, their glow intensifying as she chanted and raised her stave, pointing directly at the orc shadowmancers, only to watch a barrage of Arcane, Frost and Fire incinerating, freezing and generally murdering them. Her head jolted to the side, her smile growing even wider upon seeing her former teacher, Nezrii. 

Her face held a stern, if not furious expression, her eyes glowing a bright azure as she lowered her crystal stave, only to raise her hand and rain death and ice upon the incoming orcs, giving the Vindicator enough time to lift his heavy form from the ground and retreat further towards the forces. The Battle was definitely not in their favour. Not until the Alliance battalions finally showed up and made a push for the docks, at least.  They all hollered and cheered in their victory, however it was short lived, as Elrue’s smile was washed from her face upon seeing the enormous warships approaching… It was there and then that all nine Hellfire plains broke loose, the enormous cannons shooting out those blasted products of Orcish siege, the Iron Stars. They rolled across the newly arrived Alliance forces and the Draenei ones, causing death and mayhem, panic spreading as the numbers of the previously winning faction got thinned almost immediately. 

Elrue stood there, tears streaming down her eyes as she watched the Siege Weapons spread death and misfortune, her silvery white hair and loose robes waving in the hot hit while she simply stood there, looking as the last of their hope for victory was being taken away right from their hands. It was at those few moments that she missed the entire army retreating and with them, her comrades. It was in those few, crucial moments she stood there and watched as the Iron Star came flying towards her form, it was at that moment that she closed her tear-stained eyes and muttered a prayer, embracing her own self, ready to meet her ancestors in the Auchindoun. 

A whimper escaped her lips and she tightened the grip around her own shoulders, expecting the pain, as the Iron Star made a loud, ear-breaking sound as it came crashing down; but the pain never came. She opened her eyes and looked around, certain she was already dead, only to face the back of the armour clad giant that was the Vindicator Kheran. His arm was raised before his face, a shield made of pure light blocking the still rolling Iron Star from crashing into the frail magi’s form. She was lost, confused and then, terrified as she noticed how his hooves were being pushed backwards and how his shield was beginning to weaken. With an echoing roar, he pushed against the Siege weaponry, halting its spinning and sending it back, it was then that the most sickening crack was heard and as his shield dispersed, his arm dropped to his side at a weird angle. The man fell to his knees, the crystallite bone structure of his arm snapped in several places, pain surging through his body and clouding his eyes.  Elrue shrieked and dashed to his side, trying in vain to lift him up with her meagre strength. He seemed confused, his glowing eyes dimmed as he looked around hazily, his ears ringing and his head throbbing, let alone that searing pain through his broken arm. “Run...” his deep voice rumbled as he raised a hand to grasp the smaller woman’s shoulder, shaking her out of her hysteria. She was a crying mess, shaking her head stubbornly as she insisted on trying to help him up with a nearly inexistent strength. 

Their two other friends soon came rushing, Zhalrulia doing her best with shooting the brains out of the swarming orcs, Nezrii firing magical projectiles from every respective aspect she knew. “We are surrounded from all sides! We cannot fight for much longer!” yelled the Rangari as she pulled the blade sheathed on the hip and stabbed an orc, kicking his limp corpse away and spitting on the ground.  Elrue finally gave up and stood up, looking around the battlefield, a defeated expression befalling her face as she realised the Rangari spoke truth. She looked to Nezrii who nodded, confirming her fears then to the nearly unconscious Vindicator that had taken up on an Iron Star. Her eyes darted up to the sky, a faint, bitter smile crawling on her lips as she regarded the stars, a tear trickling across her smog-ridden cheek, leaving a trail behind. She picked up her stave and walked to Nezrii then whispered something for her ears only. 

Kheran watched hazily as the battle raged on, trying to comprehend what Nezrii was yelling at Elrue, something about insanity and someone left behind. He shook his head, the tiredness pushing his lids to a near close, but he resisted. Soon his hazy gaze noticed the two magi casting a spell simultaneously, the all too familiar outline of a portal appearing. He felt himself being dragged, unable to do anything to help them with his weight, only holding onto his dear mace tightly, as though for dear life. Zhalrulia disappeared through the rift first, then he looked down to realise the cunning Nezrii had levitated him off the ground. His tired gaze travelled to the one fuelling the portal, seeing the clumsy, otherwise cheerful magi holding her crystal stave with both hands, her whole form engulfed in arcane energy. He frowned and tried to focus on her face, she was not crying, her face held a bitter smile; it then dawned upon him, what the frail Draenei was planning. He outstretched his hand towards her as he went closer and closer to the portal, mustering all his remaining strength to shout; “No! Elrue!” 

Her closed eyes opened and she gave him a bitter yet genuine smile, her form still beaming with a purple haze. She took his hand and raised it to her cheek, feeling the rough hands caress her tear stained cheek one last time, before she let go, and with a hand gesture he was pushed, he was gone through the portal, catching one last glimpse of the pale Elrue looking at the stars, an Iron Star coming crashing towards her broken form; and then with hearing her last few words as thought in a dream, or a whisper, he was lost in a whirlwind of arcane, finding himself atop the haystack of the all-too-familiar stables of Stormshield. He looked around hazily, Nezrii and Zhalrulia stood above him, yet nobody else. A soft exhale left his lips and his eyes closed slowly, one could have sworn they saw a trail of moisture across his harsh, scarred features, before he sunk into unconsciousness, in the world of dreams and bitter memories of lost friends, this night’s dream repeating him one phrase throughout;  

“The stars shine the brightest, just before they die, a last display of greatness.”