Blood Running Red

[seesbosscrotch]

Who: The Redsworn
What: Efforts to help Suramar take an unexpected turn.
Where: Outside of Suramar.
When: September 6.
Warnings: Violence and demons.

"No sign of the refugees," Mar said darkly as the group tromped towards the city. The paladin in particular tried to ignore the awareness that in his past and this land's future, he'd seen all this terrain before -- at the bottom of the sea. "Either we're too late, or... worse."

Something was raising all his hackles and running sharp claws down his instincts. Though he hadn't drawn mace and shield yet, he was on high alert, quickly scanning from left to right and back, just waiting for --

Sharp otherworldly cries filled the air abruptly, from a wide semicircle in front of them. Mar, at least, recognized the sounds. "Felhounds!" he shouted, mace and shield leaping into position as if conjured.

Comments

Felhound Fight

[seesbosscrotch]

Five felhounds, terribly large specimens of the breed, burst out of the undergrowth in a loping charge, the tentacles on their backs questing eagerly for the magic they sensed in the air, their jaws snapping as they slavered for the flesh that contained that magic.

Mar acted with the speed and instinct that all his practice had imbued him with -- he hurled his shield in one clean motion. Shining with holy light, it smashed into one of the felhounds, then ricocheted into two of its companions before bouncing back towards the paladin. Burned and baited into a wrath by Maridian's righteous fury and the magic they sensed in the elf, those three turned to focus on him as he charged forward to meet them.

"Vindicator!" was all he said, a cry for Vas to draw the attention of the other two.

Group 1

[seesbosscrotch]

Battered and exhausted, but healed by the grace of the Elements and the mercy of the Light, the flight had split into two groups. Maridian led the first at a run, cold determination and purpose written in every line of his body.

In the distance, imps surged towards them, a line of cackling fire eager to burn the flesh from their bones.

Group 2

[seesbosscrotch]

Toxic Cru, Satyr

[seesbosscrotch]

In the very distance, the ruins of Suramar stood against the horizon, past a great cliff carved across the land by a rogue Aspect's fury. The Redsworn had one chance to glimpse it before it disappeared behind a wash of sick green flames, a wall of fire that shot around in a great circle to encompass them and their foe.

Mar huffed. "What an honor to face one of the first satyrs."

The corrupted Highborne before them sneered, lifting a staff carved with runes, then swept it down. Twin summons circles grew on the ground before him as the hellcaller invoked rituals that even a warlock would call corrupt, and from their depths, two felguards rose, their mighty swords bare and hungry for blood.

Like Valithria but red

[seesbosscrotch]

The wall of fire faded, leaving behind only the great rift cut through the land... and a low raspy breath that begged for release from pain, either through healing or mercy. On the very edge of the cliff, so close that falling it might be a real concern, a great red dragon lay in exquisite pain, Wings tattered and deep rifts in the wyrm's side shining with mixed blood and pus.