It was already late evening when the elf’s heavy clad figure emerged from one of Silvermoon’s shadows. His hood was pulled low over his face, shielding him from the falling rain. The rain was falling lighter now than it was, but thunder still rolled in the distance growing louder as the time passed. The figure’s heavily placed steps came quickly as he passed through Farstrider’s Square and skirted down Murder Row before ducking into the Inn there. He passed down the hallway water running off the heavy cloak wrapped around him. Behind the bar a bright-eyed elf looked up from the books she was studying. “Good evening?”
The figure nodded as he approached, and laid out a few gold on the bar. The elven woman looked at the gold then up to him. “A room or a drink?” she questioned, leaning forward enough to glance over the bar at the puddle forming at his feet. “A room...for a few nights,” was his response as he watched her get up, taking the gold to put it away. “Three nights, second room on your right,” he heard her say as he moved up the stairs. Ignoring her he approached the room and opened the door, well aware of how many nights he’d rented it for. That girl wasn’t familiar to him though, maybe she was new, he thought.
The red-head threw back his hood after closing the door and unfastened the holds on his cloak; hanging it to dry. Alastor was surprised to find himself mostly dry, and kicked off his boots next to the door. With a relaxing sigh he grabbed a small leather pouch and plopped heavily on the bed. Looking to his left he lit a small magical lamp and propped himself against the headboard and the pillows. The rain was still falling outside, it sounded like it was getting louder; every now and then the window would light with the flash of lightning in the clouds. He tucked his hand into the pouch and pulled out a leather bound journal wrapped and sealed with a strip of leather.
After pulling loose the end of the strap and unwrapping the leather from around the book he opened it up and flipped forward several pages, sighing again as his eyes traced his own handwriting.
Second day in Arathi Basin this tour. The week off before hand was nice, though it’s good to see something other than Orgrimmar. This group seems to have a lot of healers so I won’t be as busy this time maybe. Everything seems like it’s going well though, hopefully this won’t last too long. Its nice that there hasn’t come any harm to this quaint little farm house, well.. It’s a place to get out of the weather and rest for a little bit. I haven’t seen Tau, not sure if I missed him or if he’s just not providing his services this go around. Guards sounded, time for work! ------
Alastor smirked a little at that entry, that was before he knew he was going to be on duty for almost two months and a long rough two months it had been. A grimace came to his face just thinking about it as he turned the page.
That was kind of exciting, now that the rush is over, day four. They really wanted the farm badly, they must be hurting for rations and supplies. Several injuries and near casualties. About all of them are completely healed up now, just one or two more left - a Tauren and some undead. Undead are hard to fix, normally they only want healing in a pinch otherwise it’s all hands on stuff, bandages and whatever healing a druid can force out of the land. Sometimes it’s fun to do it just to watch their reaction. Hopefully things here will be quiet now.
Day nine. Moved to the front, apparently despite there being several healers and medics in this group none of them are any good. I’ve been moved from a standing medic job to the field, we seem to be doing a lot of hit and go type missions at the moment, trying to wear them down? They are definitely better organized this time than before. Currently camped just off the road near the lumber mill. We’re probably going to wait till its dark, or early morning. We might be waiting on some reinforcements. Alliance themselves has beefed up their guard after our attacks. I think I have this dwarven hunter after me, too. Hah, every time we’ve made the attack I’ve had to watch out for them and their stinking dog. We need to hurry up and finish this for now, let things get calm again, I’m ready for some sit down time!
Alastor shifted back on his bed and continued to look over the journals he had written while on active duty. Most were scribbles only a few lines before he had to pack his writing away. It was sort of something to pass the time, and it was sort of so he could remember everything that happened. Subconsciously even something to record what had happened, in case he didn’t make it out. While he had gone into the Basin this time with the same partial seriousness as always. Despite the dangers, and seeing the wounds that could be caused first hand as he healed them he never took the fighting too serious. Victory had almost always been assured, and his time on the field had always been short. While it was always training he’d still never taken it too seriously or worked in a fashion that he thought too hard.
He flipped through the pages in the journal with his thumb, holding his place where he was at. Several more still; he turned back and looked down again shifting some on the bed.
Ten or Eleven. We took the lumber mill today, it was hell and had hell of a cost.
It was a short entry, very short, but he remembered that evening...
For most of the day we’d been sending up small raiding parties to the lumber mill. Just two or three guys to mix it up a bit with them, hoping to catch them off guard and find a weakness. Each party met with some success but most were lucky if they cold escape with their lives. It seemed they had left a heavily armored paladin atop the hill along with a grizzled dwarven hunter armed with an incredibly large gun and a spider. It also seemed that had with them someone that no one managed to live to fight. Those that came back from the spirit healer only mentioned a searing pain in the back before they were knocked out. I did what I could from the camp at the bottom of the hill, healing those who managed to escape and slink their way back down. It looked like we might not have any luck at the mill this day, some of the men expressed discontent with their assignment.
Now and again a stream of Alliance reinforcements would pour down the hill and we would all take up arms to defend against them. We held our own against wave after wave of them, my fellow soldiers bolstered by my healing abilities. The Alliance seemed particularly blood thirsty, none would flee and they fought to the last man, dwarf, or draenei. Our mages had their work cut out for them, battling and counter-spelling a legion of elves and gnomes that hung back on the hillside, perfectly willing to let their comrades die in their stead if only to give them enough time to summon forth whatever mystical energies they needed.
It was after one such push against us that our captain gave word. Another troop that had been successful at the black smith would be joining ours and together we would charge the hill and make a final push towards the mill. A contingent of workers was on their way from the farm, ready to take over and begin manufacturing spears and arrows for our archers. It was not long before we saw the other platoon. They were fresh faced and happy, their weapons glistening with the blood of many men and women, a striking difference from our tired and beleaguered company. Lead by a particularly large and fearsome orc, they seemed just as battle hungry as the alliance. Their trolls sang and danced as they marched, the Taurens beating their mighty war drums on the sides of their mounts.
I have to admit just their appearance did much to calm and rejuvenate our company. We took up arms and hailed them, forming up and beginning to ready ourselves for the charge. Our captain, a fellow elf, rode towards them in greeting, discussing with the orc the plan of battle as soon as they were close enough. It seemed this orc was a well decorated soldier and we would follow his orders to the letter. From the looks of his own company we decided that it was clearly the right way to go. Half of our men and half of his would round the base of the mountain, then when a flare from their hunter went up we would charge both sides, creating a pincer. If all went well the Alliance would be caught in the middle and unable to flee or send for reinforcements.
I was to stay and work with a tauren of the wilds to keep my allies alive. He was a massive bull, his fur marked with various warpaint and tattoos depicting the natural world. I was confident that between us we would have no troubles. His calm demeanor and straight forward attitude did much to calm my own nerves. We worked quickly to prepare the men, I with my blessings and he with his druidic abilities.
The other half of the force began making their way quietly to the other side, pressing against the wall of the cliff to conceal their movement as much as possible. It was a tense few minutes as we waited for their signal, we hoped they would have no trouble and that all would go as planned. We stood at the base of the hill, weapons in hand and shield held high, our spell casters already beginning to concentrate and call forth their abilities, each man and women determined to take this mill and turn the tides of battle in our favor.
Suddenly the night sky was alight with a flash, a single red star shot up from the other side of the hill and fell back down towards the earth, illuminating the Alliance force that was waiting for us. With our battle cries ringing through the night we began the charge, making our way up as quickly as possible. We were met by a hail of bullets and arrows. It had seemed that they knew we had a plan and the redoubled their defense of the mill. I did as best I could to dodge the hail of projectiles, attempted to heal those who had not been able to move out of the way. Unfortunately some did fall and neither myself nor the tauren could spare the time to stay with them and call back their spirit.
As we crested the top of the hill we saw our allies at the other side, they too took a few losses but had not let up. The orc leader himself had taken a few arrows, though to watch him fight I wondered if he was even aware of them. The first line of Alliance archers began to falter, their spirits slowly sinking as their arrows and bullets had little effect. Their aim was no longer as true as they had to begin backing up towards the cliff itself.
Our fighters rushed headlong into theirs, the paladin from before swinging his might war hammer as though it weighed not an ounce. He called to the Holy Light and illuminated those around him with a brilliant aura. He met his match in a gigantic tauren warrior who carried in each hand an axe as big as myself. This giant, clad in pure red with eyes that seemed to be wholly crimson as well, swore and roared as he attacked, stomping any who had fallen with his mighty hooves and smacking away dwarves and gnomes as if swatting flies.
It was not long before I noticed a peculiar circumstance as mentioned by my allies earlier. Now and again I saw fighters scream out into the night and clutch at their backs, falling dead away as though some phantom force had been at them. I narrowed by eyes and watched as best I could until finally I saw it. “A rogue!” I called out, pointing towards the tiny dark shadow moving with ease throughout the battle. “A gnome! He must be stopped!” I could see the little man who seemed to move faster than any gnome I’d seen before. He crept in the shadows, leaping out to strike when an unsuspecting Horde member was weak and downing them near instantly. In a flash our hunters were on him, shots rang out from multiple directions as they focused their fire on the little rogue. With an almost impossible agility he seemed to dodge their bullets for a time, continuing to wreak havok seemingly in spite of our efforts to kill him. Finally, however, a shot rang true. He stumbled only momentarily but that was all the time they needed to aim and let loose a killing volley.
Unfortunately my own outcry had turned into follow as bullets whizzed past my own head. I dove towards the ground, rolling behind the corner of the mill itself and stood back up, trying to keep up my healing spells. It had seemed that the dwarven hunter from before recognized my voice and was now dead set on avenging his fallen comrade through me. I could scarcely peek my head out before a shot at my head made me think better of it. I had decided that I would restore my comrades from this vantage point when suddenly his spider was on me. It had run around the other side of the building and so silent were its steps that I had no idea it was there until I was caught in its web. I struggled against my bonds, crying out for aid, thankfully my armor making his efforts to bite and inject me with venom more difficult than perhaps it had been ready foor. When I finally worked myself free I ran from cover, hoping that perhaps an ally might see the beast and slay it. I was not in the open for a few moments when a sudden sharp pain in my shoulder sent me tumbling. I had taken a bullet, though luckily it was not a mortal wound. Gritting my teeth I channeled the light into my wound and got back up, running a weaving pattern towards a large group of my comrades.
By this point the battle was turning in our favor, we had sent many archers over the cliff and others lay dead on the ground. Upon seeing the spider hot on my feet a troll whom I was unfamiliar with opened up the ground between us and a gout of lava shot forth engulfing the beast. It chittered with rage and stumble back and forth on its many legs, unable to quell the molten rock that covered its carapace. After a few moments it collapsed and I heard the dwarf cry out in anguish before getting cut off by his own demise delivered by none other than the orc commander. He too was covered in wounds, I wondered how he even remained upright in his condition. As thanks I made my way to him, directing the Light’s healing energies towards him.
We had taken the lumber mill and our workers quickly cleared the dead away from the machinery and began working as though a battle had not taken place moments beforehand. They had a job to do and so did we, it seemed. The cost was not minor. Our dead lay mixed with theirs, bodies strewn up the hill and atop it. Though we had done our best to keep everyone up, not all our allies could be saved. After tending the wounded I helped lift the corpses and bring them to the spirit healers who would work to call them back to the realm of the living.
I had barely enough time to sit and rest, the journal entry all I had time for when the Alliance forces struck back. We held the hill for the rest of that night, no one managing any sleep or rest. Even the wounded took up arms, sitting atop the hill with guns firing on any foolish enough to approach. I myself kept to the rear, doing all I could to care for those who needed it, offering physical and emotional care as best I could.
It was tiring just thinking about it, and Alastor couldn’t even remember if these recollections were complete. Somehow at the time it had seemed much worse than it did now thinking about it. His eyes wandered as he thought to the window and he watched the sky light up every few minutes as he tried to recall every detail.
He snapped back to his senses shaking his head a little and looking back down at the journal. He skimmed the one sentence entry again and flipped past it. He wasn’t even half way through the written portion of the journal yet. Day eleven of what, sixty-two? Just about.
Fifteen. At this point we hold the Farmlands, the Blacksmith and are still holding off attacks here at the Lumbermill. It doesn’t look like this will be over any time soon, maybe things will change in a few days. Wrote a letter and mailed it home today.
Alastor smirked, he hadn’t wanted Eury to worry too much, He couldn’t remember what was in the letter exactly. Probably something jovial, along the lines of: M.P. I’m not dead yet. Thought I should let you know. Looking forward to getting home. I’ll see you when I can. A.P. He should have wrote him a letter when he returned, but the weather was horrible. He could look for him tomorrow, or at least tomorrow was the day that dry tavern was open, he could find him there and surprise him.
Alastor frowned glancing back to the leather pouch, an open letter still sat in it. One he’d gotten as he came into town. It was a letter from Eury, it said something to the extent of haven't seen you hope you’re okay. It was true, while he himself had sent maybe three letter in the first month of his duty he’d found it harder and harder to find the time to write them. He hadn’t received any from Eury either, he thought that odd now.
Closing his eyes and leaning his head back Alastor sighed out trying to relieve a heavy feeling in his chest. As the days wore on and he had less time to himself, recieving no letters himself he’d pushed Eury to the back of his mind hardly giving him a second thought as the days passed on the battlefield. At one point he’d convinced himself that recieving no letters at all over such a long period ment he had no time to wait and had moved on. Now back home and with the relief of a real bed, and time to think he certainly hoped not.
Eighteen. The orc captain was cut down, we lost the mill today. It took nearly four of them to finally bring him down. We’ve retreated to farms. Wounded today, should be an easy fix. I’m going to be sent to the Blacksmith after all the injured here are back on their feet. That appears to be the Alliance’s next target. I’m ready to go home.
Alastor rubbed his leg a little. That dwarf. He’d been shot in the side of the leg just above his knee. To cut through his armor so easily, he didn’t know what kind of bullets those were. The Alliance had defiantly been aiming for healers and medics. The retreat had been clumsy and ungraceful, many were forced to the spirit healer that cold morning.
Twenty-six. Haven’t had time to make any entries. We’re all pushed back to the blacksmith. Most are wounded or injured. I’m tired and in need of sleep. If I don’t make it and this journal does, let it be known that all of my possessions should go to my father, Teran Phoenixguard, to do with as he please.
He hadn’t been sure what was going to happen then, and knew he didn’t have a will. Something he though he should take care of now maybe. He set his jaw knowing about what was to come next.
Twenty-eight. I can’t sleep despite being so tired. Just drained. It’s quiet now, which is nice for a change. I can’t say the quiet makes me feel any safer, they are likely pla- They’re here.
Alastor frowned and then sneered to himself thinking. He didn’t know whether to be mad at the Alliance or the guards who hadn’t seen them coming. It had been a quiet still night, there was little light out with clouds overcast. They were already surrounded, the Alliance had come across both bridges at once, it seemed their whole force. Steel clashed, guns fired, mages lit up the night sky with their magic. Bodies fell. Alastor’s eyes glanced off in the corner of the room as the blurr of details crossed his mind. Cold water. They’d retreated jumping into the waters surrounding the smithy in an attempt to get away, fall back, regroup.. just to survive. Not everyone made it.
Alastor closed the book over on his lap, resting his hand on it. He breathed in and glanced at the ceiling. He breathed out and closed his eyes to rest a moment. Blinking them open a few times he stood and moved over to a mirror to look at himself. Twisting his head slightly Alastor brought his hand up to his left ear; his thumb traced the soft outside edge till it found a nick. He turned his head further to get a look at it, it was no small nick or accident. He grimaced again both at the nick, a good v cut chunk missing an inch or two up in his ear. “Damn dwarf.” He spat turning back away from the mirror.
He flopped on the bed, everything that had happened racing through his mind. He’d never been so glad to be home as now. Alastor rolled onto his back and grabbed the journal again. Holding it with both hands above him reading the next entry.
Thirty-four, or so I’m told. Lost track of days, Didn’t think I’d find myself wrapped in bandages and sitting in a bed. No word on the undead, the troll’s already back and fighting. They’ve always been quick healers. We have a fresh group coming in today, they’re still in need of field medics, so I’ll be back out there later today. I’ve never been so ready to go home. It’s probably because I’m tired, and still hurt. My ear, got to see a dwarf about an ear.
There was a long gap between those journal entries. He pushed that thought aside and shifted to sit back against the headboard again while he finished reading over this two month tour of duty.
Thirty-six. Undead was found today, or yesterday. Arms were still bound behind her back. The spirit healer waved her away without a word. She either hadn't the will or the desire to return.
We still only hold the Farmlands, the blacksmith was lost. A lot of soldiers were changed out or replaced, no replacement for me. Should be ready to fight again by this evening. That’s when we’re moving. Large forces to both the mill and the mine at the same time, I’ll be with the soldiers attacking the mine.
Alastor could feel his throat tighten a little, he hadn’t even know that undead, still. Still this was the turning point in this tour’s battle, he could look forward to that anyway. His hand moved to his ear again almost toying with it as a bad habit. He stopped feeling a slight pang of pain, it was still tender, and all his fiddling with it hadn’t helped.
The update in forces had been a big help, changing out most of the tired and wounded that still needed to heal was a big help. Alastor at that time had still worn some bandages beneath his armor mostly to compress and add support. Healers being hard to find however, he wasn’t getting out that easy.
Thirty-nine. That's a big number for only one tour. At the mine now, it was pretty easy to take. No dwarf. Ive requested to join the attack on the blacksmith.
He had needed something to look forward to a goal or something to keep him going after so long and all that he’d been through. He’d decided that the dwarf was going to pay, he just needed to catch up with him before anyone else did, if he was even still in the Basin. He might have already passed, though he doubted such a thing at the time. A smile came to his face already thinking in advance,
No dwarf. Fourty-one. Cleared the blacksmith out easily as well. I’m beginning to wonder where all the Alliance is. Unless reports are wrong we hold the Farmlands, the Lumber mill and all surrounding lands, the mine and now the blacksmith.
Fourty-two. Scout reports say they’re amassing. They must have pulled back to get their own reinforcements. We’re moving forces up from the Farmlands up. There’s no telling which junction they’ll be attacking. Everyone here at the blacksmith is in good health, well fed.
Moving forward to take back key points and resources in the Basin had been easier than they had though tit would be. The Alliance had pulled back to gain their own reinforcements and left few and inexperienced soldiers at the stops along the way. Whether this was on purpose or these soldiers just had not heard was unclear, if it was on purpose then the Officers of their units surely hadn’t liked them. Their bodies fell quickly and easily under the axes and arrows of the Horde moving in. We’d almost thought it was a trap, Alastor recalled.
They had been on their toes for a quite a while after retaking the mines. Soldiers were sent to scout deep into the mines and check them for any lingering soldiers or ambushes that might have been planned. There was nothing there, a surprising turn for them.
He had traveled with forces to the blacksmith again finding only a few half seasoned soldiers trying to protect the area. In truth he had hopped this is where he’d have found the dwarf, it would have been a perfect place for any thing that was circulating in his head.
Fourty-six. Lumbermill and Mines group pressed in at the stables. We stayed back to lend support to either side if needed. We hold the livestock pens though there was but one old horse there. Most of the resistance seemed to be conjured. I worry with how easy this has been that it’s a huge trap. Still stationed at the blacksmith plans are turning towards Trollbane hall and talk is turning to blocking their way in.
He turned the page as his eyes passed over each journal this was all flowing now and there wasn’t much in between his journals that had happened aside from waiting and a little worrying.
Fifty. Running a bit long can’t wait for this to end. They’ve filled out of Trollsbane and pushed us back away from the livestock area and stables. More with their sheer numbers than anything. The officers are discussing plans of attack or plans of defense, trying to decide if it’s better to let them come to us.
Fifty-three. They came to us, One massive legion. They took the high ground attacking the mine and the forces there. The forces here at the Blacksmith moved in behind them trapping them between our groups. Many of them fell but just as many were able to somehow slip through the lines and escape one way or another. Among them the dwarf.
They didn’t have to decide as the Alliance broke before any kind of conclusion could be made. They swarmed towards the Mine and poured down clashing into the Horde forces below. The sounds of the Alliance jeering and the clanging of metal on metal is what finally drove the leader of my unit to push forward trapping them between our two units.
It was a good plan, though they had already heavily damaged the group that was protecting the min. Thinking back on it Alastor decided that most the the escaping Alliance did it by passing through the unit at the Mines and coming back up the long road there. He was surprised that they hadn’t taken the Farmlands that way as they had left little to no soldiers there defending it.
Fifty-six. Got the dwarf, never felt so good about the hands-on approach as now. The unit from the Lumbermill and forest lands had moved down and set themselves up as an ambush for any Alliance soldiers returning to the Animal holding pins. Not all of them, but most have been taken care of, enough that any further resistance this day or in the short future seems unlikely.
It had been a golden opportunity, apparently the dwarf was acting as a scout for the Alliance. Alastor smiled remembering it.
It was early that morning and Alastor had been one of the first to rise, for his own reasons and he quietly slipped out of his bunk. Stepping outside in the cool morning air he gave a little stretch and moved toward the treeline away from the rest of the sleeping soldiers. He had just gotten behind a tree to relieve himself when he thought he saw something from the corner of his still drowsy eye. Quietly he fastened his pants back up and rubbed both eyes with his fists. Crouching low he looked around, listening for any signs of movement. It was all too quiet in these early hours and the sound of a twig breaking underfoot and the quiet rustle of branches from someone trying to remain hidden were all too obvious this close. Alastor turned his head towards the noise and began to creep forward slowly himself, hoping that in this game of cat and mouse he was the predator.
Stealthily, he moved, his large ears perked up and his head turned towards the noise of someone else engaged in the same activity. They were nearing the treeline and Alastor began to grow apprehensive when the movement seemingly stopped. The elf froze in his tracks and squinted his eyes looking just ahead of himself when he finally saw his quarry, well part of it. Out of a bush not ten meters ahead slid a long slender silver barrel, one Alastor recognized almost instantly. His eyes narrowed and it took all of his self control not to burst forth and attack the hiding dwarf with all the holy powers at his command. “No,” he thought, “I won’t do him the favor.” He looked around near him and spotted a large enough stone at his feet. Picking it up he felt the weight of it in his hand and then began creeping ever so slowly towards that bush ahead of him.
As he closed the distance he could make out more of the dwarf’s form. He was dressed in a suit made to look like foliage. This was one spy who would not be reporting back to headquarters, the elf decided. He held his breath as he drew nearer, content with the fact that the dwarf seemed transfixed with what he saw through his scope to notice the blood elf looming over head. Alastor lifted the stone over his shoulder and with a smirk whispered, “Boo!” The dwarf barely had time to turn his head when the paladin bashed it with the rock, knocking him out cold. That sly smirk turned into a devious sneer as Alastor looked at his victim. He picked up his gun and quickly made his way back to the barracks to fetch some rope and a drink for his soon to be newly acquired prisoner.
He returned in no time, having deposited the dwarf’s rifle in the stash with all of the other spoils of war they’d taken from the alliance. Without losing a moment he tore the camouflage away from the dwarf’s head and neck and bound his arms behind his back before sitting him up against a tree. Alastor slapped his prisoner a few times in attempts to wake him and rolled his eyes when this had no effect. He opened the flask of ale he’d brought with him and sloshed it into the unconscious dwarf’s face. Almost humorously, this had exactly the right effect, the dwarf’s eyes slowly opened and his tongue drifted out of his mouth, licking his top lip and mustache as the ale ran into his beard. He glared at the elf when he realized what had happened and spat in his direction.
They exchanged words, though to Alastor this was merely a formality. He couldn’t recall what they had said, only the urge to visit harm against this other man. He recalled that the dwarf was indeed stalwart, he showed no fear when Alastor produced his knife and even stared the elf dead in the face as Alastor learned forward and began to carve off his ear. The dwarf clenched his teeth and uttered dwarven curses, wriggling in his bonds but at no point did he scream or do anything to give his captor any sense of satisfaction. Alastor held the ear in front of his face, dangling it before his eyes, a dour look on the elf’s face when he saw that he would not be reducing this man to a simpering wretch as he’d hoped. He stood and threw the ear down, hitting the dwarf in the chest with a wet thump. Even with blood covering the left side of his head and beard completely, the dwarf was unwilling to show his captor anything but hatred, he cursed at him in dwarfish and common. Alastor understood very little but got the general idea. “Fine,” he’d said to him and unscrewed the flask, dumping the entirety of what was left over the dwarf’s head.
It was only then that the dwarf’s eyes shown with fear. Alastor had brought with him a flint and tinder and without another word set to striking them close to the dwarf’s head. The other man tried his best to lean away, his voice turned now to pleading. Alastor imagined he was begging now and grinned sadistically as he continued to try to draw a spark to the doused beard. The grin turned to laughter when the thick bushy red hair finally caught alight, the flames spreading over his entire face in an instant. The dwarf kicked and screamed and suddenly Alastor became quite worried that he might be discovered. The noise was quite short lived as the dwarf succumbed to the flames and Alastor smiled to himself. He tied the same stone he’d used to subdue the dwarf to his legs and hauled him as quickly as he could to the water that surrounded the blacksmith. With a mighty kick he booted the dwarf into the river and wiped his hands.
Looking up at the sun he grinned, all in all he’d only been gone a half hour at most, no one would even notice really. That same grin covered his face the rest of the day even as he fought for his life. Even now remembering his revenge brought the same satisfied smile to his face and he chuckled a bit as he thought about it.
Sixty. Done. Routine jobs to complete, helping with fortifications and keeping the units health up. No rest yet, lots of things.
There hadn’t been much left it was mostly a few scouting reports and reconstruction to buildings. Getting them up and running again. There was a lot of soldiers that still needed healing and a bit of recuperation, that took some time as most of the healers had been held over from the first part of the tour and were thoroughly tired and injured themselves. Those last few days seemed to pass so slow, it was likely because he knew he was going home soon.
Sixty-four. Finally headed home in an hour or two, just waiting for the commander’s word. It started raining.
It was still raining, the journey hadn’t been long. A simple mages portal from one of the soldiers’ whose health he had looked after had taken him straight here. He sighed out and closed the journal and began wrapping the leather cord around it again. He tucked it in the front so it would stay wound and haphazardly tossed it to the floor where it landed and slid an inch or two before coming to rest.
Alastor rolled over laying with the pillow under his chest and head arms wrapped beneath it. His body was tired, his mind exhausted though it played back some of his least favorite memories as of late. The pitter patter of rain on the rooftop helped him off to sleep soon enough for the evening.
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