The fleet had arrived back to Teldrassil, but perhaps they were too late. Shouting drifted across the channel from Lor’danel to her ears. Malfurion and the Commander must have heard them too, for the old druid took flight immediately in the direction of the small village in Darkshore. The commander shortly after.
The storm crow flew them across the dark, choppy waters below. Chaos had erupted in the town. Bolts of arcane and sharp arrows flew from all directions. Horde. Alliance. It was hard to tell who’s fire was who’s.
“Evacuate the citizens. Take down as many raiders as you can,” the orders came as the commander crossed blades with a troll. “They scaled the mountains from the north to take us from behind. We can’t fight a war on two fronts, but we can save who we can and take down the leaders of this raiding party if possible.”
The Worgen called forth energy from the trees around them to send a wave of rejuvenating magic to swirl around and envelope the commander before cat was rushing them deep into the town.
Tents were ablaze. “The Inn,” the Worgen urged. “Get them out before they are trapped.”
Cat growled in acknowledgement and dashed towards the largest structure. A broken sign boasted “An evening’s respite,” boasting of calm and restful nights. The scene inside was anything but.
As a nightelf rushed by fleeing from a troll in pursuit, her claws lashed out and found purchase on his leg. Flexing and digging the claws in deeper, the troll was forced to spin to face her. She was there waiting with her teeth, clamping onto his blue skinned arm that held a hand axe. With a vicious yank, she threw the troll to the ground.
He died as she raked her claws down his backside, from his neck to his waist. She spun for the next attack and saw a Tauren in front of a Gilnean huddled in the corner. The cat bowled him over, shoving him out of the way. He brought his staff up to catch her claws before she could slash across his face.
The growl that had been emanating from her cut off as she saw the fear in his eyes. “He is the same,” bear remarked. “The one from Ashenvale that was stopped at the border.”
Cat kept him pinned as the Gilnean dashed for the door but let him up as she saw the relief wash over his face as the civilian escaped the fighting. There was a tense moment as he gave a nervous salute to her before she nodded and they went their separate ways. They understood. The innocents would be spared at all costs, on both sides, if they could have their way.
Quickly, she made the rounds, saving who she could. Destroying catapults and raiders when able.
But there was no end to them it seemed. Where was Shan’do? Had he abandoned them?
She found him in a clearing doing battle once again with the Banshee Queen. The vines had pulled her to the ground, restricting her from firing her bow at him. His wrath could destroy her, if it weren’t for the axe that an orc threw from the trees.
Cat whirled to face the new threat but found herself choking, forced back into the form of a Worgen. The Banshee had her. It seemed they would all die this day. The magics around her threw her to the ground near the orc and then she was gone. Sylvanas left them. Bear tried to drag them to their feet, but the Worgen was still trying to fill her lungs with air.
And then the Priestess was there. She was the Shan’do’s mate, she recalled. They had almost lost each other in Val’sharah.
“This war is lost,” she admitted. The orc, Saurfang did she call him? He advised her to flee, to live another day and save Malfurion. Her as well. He would permit her to see to the civilians in the tree before their occupation.
But the Horde…
As she took to the skys on Tyrande’s hippogryh, she watched in horror as the Banshee Queen and her armies set fire the fire and fanned the flames.
They never marched on Teldrassil.
They burned it.