“They’re breaking through!”
“DEFEND TRANQUILLIEN, THEY WILL NOT REACH SILVERMOON AGAIN!”
It was a sea of black, red, gold, and flame. But it was also a veritable sea of undead scourge.
Thelaria had her suspicions that the lingering, lumbering few she had encountered on her patrols around the perimeter of Silvermoon and Eversong were unusual. The Helm of Domination was shattered not long in the past, and the scourge flocked to the ones with the most control and power. But what slumbered still in their forests without them knowing it? Troll abominations? She’d heard of their kin in Zandalar bargain with dark forces to see their ends met, but that implied—
A rusted, gnarled hook flung at Thelaria, twice her size in weight and heft alone, and she was only quick enough to catch the glint before it was too late. Her ranseur was twirled in her palm and wrenched to her right after the ghoul impaled on its blade was turned to ash, and holy flames that burned like the Sun erupted from both sides of the shaft to envelop her in a shield as the pommel struck the ground. The hook bounced, catching a nearby tree instead. But not without causing the Adept to stumble slightly under the weight the hook was flung with; she was lucky it wasn’t her body catching it instead.
“Uh-oh….” The Abomination lamented, a loose eye lolling to the right in time to watch the Adept’s eyes flare a bright gold. Thelaria surged forward, chains of flamelike light and arcane magics wrapping around her gauntlets and attaching itself to the pommel of her halberd before it was launched from her palm. The weapon soared, impaling the Abomination by the shoulder and was yanked towards the Sin’dorei. It stumbled forward and with the momentum the chains were yanked, wrenching the weapon free and back into the Adept’s hands. Closer the abomination stumbled, and attempted to swing at Thelaria with trunk like and rotting arms.
She was struck. Thelaria remembered little of what happened after; her ranseur was in her hands and she was sure the blade found its mark but not before more tides of scourge erupted from the tree lines and an Abomination’s arm had caught her in the cross guard. When the creature swung at Thelaria it landed squarely; her veins burned with exhaustion from pulling on the Sunwell’s power and she couldn’t summon a shield before she was launched into the side of a building adjacent to the statures in the center of Tranquillien. She landed with a resounding crack, her armor denting in places it shouldn’t and in turn piercing the body underneath. Her head rattled against her helm and her world went black.
Thelaria remembered fighting; she heard it around her and she was lucky she didn’t wind up a ghoul’s snack. Though if she was dead she didn’t get much say in the choice. She wasn’t, the din of combat around her told her that the battle was slowly being won. Good, maybe she’d continue to rest her eyes here for a moment…
Her boot was nudged. Gnarled claws raked against her armor and her head slowly rose, blood staining her vision but not enough to completely obscure. She couldn’t move, not yet, her body either too broken or too exhausted to listen. A ghoul was looming before her, rotting head tilting and twitching akin to a bird as it studied her.
MaaMmmAaa? It gurgled as it’s head twitched, mouth opening to clamp around her leg. No. A sharp gasp left Thelaria, a wet sounding wheeze as her right hand slowly lifted. Clawed digits of gore stained crimson shakily curled inwards as the Ghoul continued to gnaw at her leg, attempting to bite through the plate and to the flesh below. The armor was beginning to bend and it was with a sharp hiss that those magical flames burst to life in her palm. A pillar of those flames in the form of a sword shot out from the ground, impaling the head of the ghoul before it had a chance to realize what was happening. Not that it could. But it was done.
Another wet sounding wheeze left either the ghoul or her as the corpse began to smolder, and Thelaria’s hand fell back down to her side tiredly. A final hurrah, as she heard many say, as the edges of her vision blurred and went black. Her head slumped forward, and it was moments later she felt her head be lifted by hands that weren’t Scourge and the helm be lifted off of her head. She saw the familiar face of a Guardian, heard him shout something about medical attention, and then the rest faded.
Belono sil’aru, belore’dorei.
And so she did.
