Standing Aginst the Darkness: The Core

The sounds of battle faded from the ears of the kneeling Shaman, in disgust she drops the ruined hammer she had carried for many months, an enchanted Steel War hammer. Its now warped and melted form lay on the ash covered floor of the Fire Lord's layer.

Around her the remains of her brothers and sisters, the broken bodies left charred at the foot of crushed form of the Major Domo of Molten Core. The troll rogues Unix, Jundai lay together, the melted weapons of their chosen paths bars of slag, their armor smoldering. Another troll, Laka Razorfist a most deadly and formidable Rogue had fallen a few feat further to one side of the others.

The Shaman had failed, her healing magic’s had not been enough and they had fallen to Ragnaros's fell powers. All around her the charred remains of her totems stood crumbling, savaged by a massive flame wind that had swept from the creature, their magic’s now dead as her charges.

"Quickly ready your selves!" a deep voice calls to the remaining members of the War band. Standing like a wall of Dark Iron, Zug Ironsoul called a rally to the scattered members. "The Sons of Flame will rise to assist their master and we must meet them, we have now all ready paid much but the abomination has been driven below in fear of our might!" instinctively the Shaman began moving leaping over the slowly moving lava and summoning her reserves of energy she follows the stated plan, with a thought, and a gesture a small glowing totem of pulsing power formed as she passed. Thinking to herself that it might not matter at all but this was a battle that was to be live or die, and she was to give the war band every chance that she could.

Reaching the small circle lined with Orc and Tauren Warriors, all resplendent in massive plate armor, she took some solace in that the fight was not over yet, and around the circle was more proof of her brethren had lived. Several more earth bind totems glowed showing that probably more shamans remained. In the middle of the circle stood three healers, they worked rapidly closing wounds and regrowing crisped flesh. Two members of the guardedly trusted Forsaken Maeron and Morganna and the Troll priest Feannor, their staffs glowed a golden light as they cast rapidly. The Shaman nodded her thanks and flexed her body. In responce to their healing a glowing bright totem appeared at the healer’s feet, it pulsed a similar golden light passing the pure mana from the earth to their bodies quenching their bodies thirst for more power.

The deep voice of Minotaur, a massively huge Tauren Warrior echoes off the protective wall the War band huddles in. "Make your guard all, they RISE!" All around the remaining members activate magical trinkets, draw new weapons or ready the crippled items they have left on their persons. Like wraiths fiery images float up from the lava, and approach the tight circle of defenders the elementals aura of flame already extending out from their forms...

The multiple earth bind totems left by the few shaman remaining appear to slow the Son's approach. The gathered Mages and Warlocks silent until now speak mystical formula and from inside the wall of Dark Iron plated Warriors; their own version of Hell is called forth...

A group of three Warlocks in unison send several Son's of Fire into an alternate realm. Drasina, Lemdul and the Dutchess all Forsaken, succeeded in reducing the numbers that the others will have to face at once. Then turning as one they unleash their own dark arts on the remaining elementals. The Warlock's fury is joined by the Undead Mages Sulor, and Lant Flameshard, Both pouring in fire and ice respectively into the dreaded creatures.

Then suddenly they are among the defenders... the Shaman, pulls a glowing dagger found in the sands of Sithilas, a gift from the Warrior Benjal, another Tauren. The smiling Shaman nods to herself and feels the power of the blade draw into her increasing her own magical reserve. The sound of totems landing in the rock around the circle is like gunshots from a line of Dwarf Gunners, it is reassuring as the magic’s flow into her and the others. Strength, Agility, and fresh pools of mana flow along with a pulsing Fire totem offering all extra protection from the Son's destructive auras...

A scream cuts through the circle and with a head jerk the Shaman watches the Priest Morganna fall under the flames of a hidden Son, one that had appeared behind the circle and picked its target well, summoning the force of the earth through her body arcs of green colored power pulse from her out stretched fists slamming into the elemental and drawing its attention. A pulse of frigid cold pulses over the shoulder of the Shaman, and the elemental takes a second hit, her sister shaman Summer Thunderfist, had released one of her favored attacks slowing the creature and giving the Shaman the moment to summon a bolt of pure lightening. The ball of lightening slams into the Son and it staggers and with suddenness the creature explodes into nothingness, the form of Mall Foultooth striding through its remains and laughing his own hideous chuckle, his blade glowing hungry for the next kill the Orc turns and rejoins the others on the line.

Taking a moment to check the others of the defenders, the Shaman takes a moment to cast a few quick healing spells, watching with a satisfied smile as the green glows flash and heal burns and return vigor to the warriors on the line. Staggering a moment the Shaman feels the hot flames as a Son is drawn into combat with her for her casting of so much mana. "Stupid, Stupid!" she calls out to her self as her dagger flashes through the flame weakening the elemental, her reserves are lowered as the flames burn away at her life and her own mana feeding making the Son stronger. A burst of earth energy explodes from her hands again crippling the Son, but not before her her self is crippled in the duel. The last of the Son's are dropped in quick order, with only the loss of one or two. "Excellent, the Fire Lord returns thinking we are finished!" the hissing laughter of Lant Fireshard. Turing to face the others she continues "My lord Ironsoul, shall we prepare to finish this creature or shall we fall back into the Cavern to heal?" The remaining members of the War band all look to the Orc. "We finish him and then recover our friends under arms and celebrate our victory!"

As if on queue the giant Firelord emerges from the lava behind the group, and as practiced as any maneuver taught to members of the Horde they turn and charge the monster. It bellows its challenge and with a vengeance begins to hurl fireballs into them. The Shaman moved to support the armored warriors at the feet of the monster and quickly dropped her totems, refreshed her magic from a large glass stoppered potion on her belt and squared her hoofs to face the darkness.

Around her the other casters poured ranged fury into the Lord of the Core, supported by the few remaining bow wielding hunters that had survived, the Trolls Skuzzy Longtootf, Trog and the Tauren Altauren Spiriteye. Their magical bows turned arrows into bolts of pure magic slamming into the form of Molten Core Lord.

The battle having turned to the War bands advantage the Shaman her self turned to unleashing ball lightening and blasts of ice into the creature, she seceded in only drawing the wrath of the Fire Lord. The first fire ball exploded against her shield, the heat unbearable, she screamed in reaction to the attack, to her knees she dropped attempting to summon healing magic’s to soothe her scorched face and arm, a hot wind suddenly blew up and tossed the Shaman into the air slamming her form into the protection of the shelter walls about the lava pool where the monster made its home. The impact shattered ribs and broke the scorched arm that she was desperately trying to mend. The fall to the floor of the cave was the last straw, her body broken and now impaled on a up thrust spike of hardened rock... so quickly the sweet taste of victory was swept away and she cried for failing the others, to her the darkness had won. The Shamans vision was failing as her life drained out of her; she was rewarded with a wonderful last site. The massive form of the Fire Lord, explode into nothingness and the site of its huge spiked hammer head down in the Lava pool. She smiled, and closed her eyes surrendering herself to the darkness. They had won.

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A buzzing in the ear of Vera Earthcaller was the first thing her mind noticed, it would come and go closer and further. Snapping her eyes open the darkness was replaced with the darkened image of a wooden logged ceiling looked back down on her. Her mind raced to understand, images flashed in her mind. The Core, the Fire Lord, the War band.... Dying...

Sitting up the dragonfly that had been buzzing about her head flitted out the open window. A light breeze filtered in and a bright globe of white light blazed in. Dressed in soft silk robes of white she moved her legs over the side of the bed. It was a thick mattress of straw and wrapped in linen cloth, clean and new. Beside the bed on a small round wooden table was a large metal bowl and pitcher, and a book laid there opened to the middle some where. There was a candle a think trail of smoke drifting from the wick, apparently recently put out. Her mind quickly tried to take in that had happened, her arm was healed as was her midsection.

Sighing she steps toward the semi closed door of the small room, stopping for a moment and opening a large cabinet in the room near the door. Inside was her bags and traveling gear, next to the cabinet in the low light her Armor hung on a rack, the Earthfury rigging clean and polished, her shield repaired and her weapons cleaned and oiled, returned to usefulness.

Nodding to herself Vera walked to the door and stepped out onto the walkway of a building, affording an amazing view of the Lands of her childhood...Mulgore. A small tear falls as she nods her thanks to the Earth mother for another chance at serving her. From behind her a soft voice speaks "Welcome home Vera Earthcaller, welcome to the land of the living." Kyogsa Gladewalker stood on the landing dressed in a simple dress of green silk, behind her another druid a young one stood quietly in a similar dress but not as decorated. Turning to face the senior druid, Vera bowed showing her respects to the woman. "I’m sure my continued life here, is in no small respects to your healing powers Kyo." "Come now Moo, no need to blow things out of proportion, its not the first time we have had you returned from the brink of the afterlife." Kyo chuckled softly. "And no this time we had a new member of the Circle tend to your wounds." pushing the young druid forward Kyo continues "This is Bel Healingheart, and she was the one that mended you this time." Vera turned and looked out over the valley from the high point of the bluffs of the capital. "I also pass my thanks to you Bel; I hope Kyogsa hasn’t been to in depth in teaching you of our adventitious backgrounds?" a wave of fatigue shows on the recovering Tauren, and the young Druid moves quickly to assist. "No Vera Earthcaller, she has done very well at keeping your secrets, but you look tired and need more rest. I’m sure the Lady Gladewalker can come back tomorrow and you can both discuss what further you will be allowed to do, as it will still be several more weeks before you are strong enough to return to the service of the War band."

Nodding and returning with no further arguments to her bed, Vera lays down the druid Bel sits back on the floor lighting the candle back and allowing herself the luxury of light while she reads. "Rest well Verna, for tomorrow will let you walk the bluffs and then you can tell me of the adventures you have witnessed these last years."

Rolling over slowly Vera thinks as she fades to sleep "Maybe reliving the battles and adventures would be the best step at the rest of her life...only time would tell."