The Wolf Within - A World of Warcraft Story

Part 9 - Endgame

PART 9

 “We might've lost our city, but at least it looks like the dead have forgiven us,” Krennan Aranas rasped once they were back at the small hut. “Meet with the rest of the survivors in Keel Harbor. I'm sure there's plenty to do before we're in the clear. Genn hasn't arrived yet, so I suppose Lord Crowley will be in charge there.”  He waved them away.

 Rosarie nodded, hurrying away toward Keel Harbor; a small village by the gulf. It was one of her favorite places. She’d loved to visit the town when she was younger. Cynric was on her heels, keeping close just in case a spirit or two were not quieted down by their offering.

--

 As Rosarie and Cynric entered Keel Harbor, the girl was baffled at the magnificent sight. Besides the milling Gilnean survivors, tall, enigmatic figures strode through the streets.

 Nearly all of them were women, with slender, stalwart builds and skin color varying from the lightest blue to the most sun-kissed of pinks. Their silver and gold eyes were alight with determination. They all had tapering, pointy elven ears and wore ornate silver-and-purple armor, layered with leather, plate and mail, and adorned with feathers and intricate silver patterns. Some carried beautiful bows, spears, or interesting star-shaped, three-bladed weapons that were worn like a shield.

 “Night elves?” Rosie wondered out loud, her eyes wide.

 One of the passing women stopped, then turned around and saluted, her blue braids swaying in the wind. “Elune’adore. I am Sentinel Starshadow. Aye, Darnassus has come to assist your people with the invasion.” She said, hurrying away to where the other Sentinels stood.

 Behind the night elves stood large, complicated pieces of machinery. They were loaded with the much larger versions of the star-shaped weapons some of the Sentinels carried. Rosarie cautiously approached one, running a hand over the smooth, polished surface, engraved with ancient runes and crescents. It strangely resembled a hawk ballista, with two identical plates rising up into the sky, made to look like violet-gold-and-green painted wings.

 “What are these?” She asked, turning around to look at no one in particular.

 “That is a Glaivethrower,” a heavily accented female voice spoke from behind her. “They are used to throw glaives such as the ones we carry, sort of like human ballistae.” The Sentinel gestured to her star-shaped weapon once Rosie had turned around to face her.

 Ah, so this is what it’s called. A glaive. The girl thought curiously, nodding. “I see. I have to go report to Lord Crowley.” She saluted and hurried away to find Crowley.

 The large worgen was not hard to find, towering above even some of the tallest Sentinels. He was already speaking to Cynric. Rosarie walked up to them just as he had begun speaking.

“The night elves have made good on their promise. They've brought ships and are ready to offer us sanctuary in their lands. Unfortunately, the Forsaken's allies have arrived as well,” he growled, glancing at the girl as she approached. “The orcs are advancing on us while the Horde gunship prevents the transport ships from taking our people to safety. The Druids are holding the enemy back, but won't last long.” He then gestured to the few docked ornate violet ships. “Fortunately, the elven ships were carrying siege weapons. Take one of the glaive throwers and meet the enemy head on.”

 Cynric nodded, his lupine visage taking on a grave expression. “A’ight. We’ll take two, Rosarie and I. ‘ight?” He turned to her.

 Rosarie nodded, rolling a shoulder and tipping her miniature, frayed hat over her eyes. “Sure.” She replied as they walked away to situate themselves in their vehicles.