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38. Eternal March
🕑 Added 2025-03-08 15:52:56 +0000 UTC"My eyes… they burn." I heard Jaina's pained voice to my right, and I was in a similar situation, so I healed her after me.
The damages were small; five minutes would have done the trick to clear most of the random blind spots, but eyes were delicate little organs. We couldn't waste time on that.
"Sorry, I didn't have any alternatives. He would want my hide now, though..." I said with a frown, and the sorceress grimaced but didn't comment. She wasn't in any state to complain, to be honest.
She was all shaky and pale with sweaty hair, and I was sure any strong wind would make her fall like a dead leaf.
"That was too close for comfort." She said mid-pant as she barely held herself with her staff, and I grunted in agreement.
We escaped death by a hair's breadth. I took a lungful of air and breathed deeply to calm my heartbeat as well.
It had been… unpleasant, and I doubt Archimonde would have killed us right away, but it changed nothing. Though I was already back as usual, if a bit shaken.
It had been something, an event quite unlike any I had ever encountered and, by all metrics, far from the last for today. Twin Bears bless me, I would live through today, but there were no use dwellings on that.
I studied our surroundings from my naturally higher vantage point.
Thousands of people were getting their bearings, and many were working to march once more. Some would remain here, the wounded and unconscious mages from the mass teleportation.
We were much higher and deeper into the valley and close to the last outpost, which was manned by the forces of nature—the Wild, as I have internally coined, and I wasn't alone on that. We lacked a name and were together.
Anyway…
After their base was broken, the Alliance wasn't going to lay to the side and do nothing; the end goal was for everyone in fighting shape to fight.
We were fighting for Azeroth and our survival.
The Alliance teleported behind because they were the farthest away from the Burning Legion so that they could walk through traps, deadly vegetation, and rough terrain to the second outpost.
Then, it was the Horde's turn to fight. They would begin by making a tactical withdrawal, and since they were significantly closer to the third outpost, it was manageable for them to join the last battle. It would just be a continuous one, but they were harder overall, and the time of respite for the Alliance would be short in the best-case scenario.
Like the Alliance, they would join the last battle. It was Tyrande's plan, with some input from Shandris as she understood the outlanders' strategies and capabilities, but the hard planning remained the High Priestess' doing. Credit was due where credit was due.
It was the most optimal course of action, the Horde being first like a non-insignificant number of kaldorei wanted would be pointless and purely vindictive.
It had been an opposite emotion for the Alliance being placed there, and more than a few had been displeased, but ultimately, it was this way. It was more logical.
It changed little for the latest, whether they were second or first; beyond that, the last option gave some breathing room.
The point was to gain time; it was the focus first and above all else. This led to what the old priestess prepared, from the distance to trap placement and outposts' optimal location.
While simple, it was perfect; tactics didn't need to be a convoluted mess. If one thing I was confident about Tyrande Whispewind was her capabilities as a military leader in guerrilla warfare. Her adopted daughter was excellent as well.
Anyway, I was on the move once more, sending Jaina an understanding glance as I became a bat.
'No rest for the wicked…' I thought, but I couldn't stand remaining to the side uselessly.
Merely seconds later, I spotted a squad of sentinels atop hippogriffs, as they had likely done for me far before. They should be one of many squads sent to the big flash of light and energy burst that was the teleportation.
I flew to them, gliding alongside their flight path, and fervently called out. Their mounts' visibility tensed up at my presence, but I ignored them, a tiny part of me wishing to eat one.
"Riders, the first base has fallen. Archimonde is marching onward. Inform Tyrande immediately. The outlanders must be gathered and healed to continue fighting. We're running short on time." I explained to the one at the head of the group, easily distinguished by her armor.
"Those are grave news you bring, noble beast. As for those… Lady Merithra will bless them with health. One of my sisters would send the message." She said with a professional quickness I appreciated.
I had numerous irksome interactions with night elves, but they were the minority in truth.
And with a flick of her head, a simpler clothes female kaldorei broke from the formation. With her hippogriff, they zipped across the air faster than I could fly.
As I pushed my leathery wings, I was left of my lonesome, barring Groot.
It was one of the downsides of this shape; it was mighty and enduring with excellent maneuverability, but speed wasn't its strongest.
It was fast, far above the average flier, birds, bats, or otherwise. But a Bloodwing Bat wasn't built for extreme speed, unlike many raptors or harpies.
They were scavengers and hunted large prey, not a random rabbit five hundred meters below.
Harpies were in a league of their own, though significantly more natural magic was involved there. Cue to Aviana, another Ancient I hope to bring back that would hopefully save her children from their madness.
This point aside, I couldn't simply take the form of an eagle from the Emerald Dream just for speed.
I could theoretically, but compatibility problems will arise, and it would directly conflict with the bloodwing bat part.
It wasn't just a template you could collect; the best approach was modifying the bat form for better speed.
I did that to speak and for the bone outgrowth with my lightened, but to the complex action of flight?
Some aspects were 'easy,' but that was for my backpack and armor when light, even with Groot making them sleeker. To put it mildly, it wasn't basic biology to improve flight itself, and the fact that I was never without stuff weighing me down didn't help.
My wandering mind stopped as the battlefield came into view, and my calm heartbeat rapidly regained its erratic rhythm, even if it was controlled, expressing excitement and fear at once.
I breathed deeply and focused, but something broke it.
It was a loud rumbling. Well, I saw it seconds back, but the earth's resounding booms and angry rumbling were more impactful. The cliffs had collapsed, and everything between the two was crushed, the shamans doing for the most part.
It wasn't a singular event. The steep walls of stones were used to their full extent and, if not collapsed, made to generate rock fall, and it wasn't the elements alone.
The light of explosions and their echoes reached even here—goblin contraptions. Their only quality beyond greed was destroying everything with their oily little fingers.
But it was a dangerous strategy. Those were wild and massive rockfalls that couldn't care less if it was a doomguard or a troll under them. It was the last fuck you only done past a certain threshold.
Still, it seemed to affect the flow of demons and undead greatly, but against what was already there… Regular fighting was the go-to method.
It gained time, but otherwise, it didn't defeat the virtually endless Horde that was the Legion and Scourge. Nonetheless, it was a great distraction, and I wouldn't let the opportunities pass under my snoot.
I flew above the orcs and taurens warriors, the projectiles from both sides a pain as always, but they were relatively low altitudes.
The twin crossbows occasionally pelted the ground as I did so, growing plants or stopping abominations.
Then I slammed down an eredar that didn't pay attention thanks to her current isolation from the fallen stones all around, believing it was protecting her.
The point was that she wasn't paying attention.
She was puppeteering infernals, and I don't have that now.
Her eyes widened briefly, and her red-skinned hand spurted a pathetic green flame before the impact with my right talon came. It was cathartic; her bones snapped like twigs, and her flesh was rendered asunder.
The ripped ribbons of her insides were flung on her bodyguards—doomguards in this case.
I screeched to the closest, making him flinch, and the next moment, I was back as a furbolg, my claws bisecting him from the waist. Bloody green chunks of flesh and viscera spilling out to the ground.
I growled from the sharp pain of a sword sinking in my exposed back–the price to pay for my mobility–but the pain was all it was.
I snapped back and grabbed the doomguard's head, my bladder claws digging into her chest, and I smashed her into a boulder.
The blade was forced out as I healed myself, and I went on, killing, flying, healing, and raising the plants.
However, compared to the first with the Alliance, I could be more aggressive, given that many demons and undead were isolated.
I wouldn't be easily swarmed.
However, in the end, it was the same dance on rinse and repeat; it was just that the ones I healed were orcs, taurens, and trolls if their natural regeneration couldn't rapidly fix the problems.
It was an exhausting and hazardous dance where any misstep cost one life, whether mine or another. But the rhythm brutally shifted as I went deeper into the withdrawing troops.
I sensed a powerful presence far within the Horde. Curious and rightfully worried, I took flight.
It was no Mannoroth less be said about his master; in fact, it was pitifully weak compared to the latter, but it was stronger than any other by a landslide.
It was above that dreadlord that always avoided me–I could tell–to trap me, but it didn't feel like one of those. Dreadlords' danger was not in their sheer individual destructive powers, even if they weren't lacking in that department.
And what I saw proved I was right. It was a large demon with two massive open wings and a dual pair of horns. Two curled going up and the same but going down, and a demon of that power was in gilded armor with an equally gaudy saber.
A weapon blanketed in Fel fire he was freely using to behead and eviscerate dozens per swing with crazed glee until it was met with Cairne's spear.
The exchange lasted an instant before they began to trade blows and dodge the Bloodhoof Chieftain, more often than not the second.
The demon was playing at first, but it quickly died as the melee was supplemented with magic and the abuse of aerial superiority. Cairne was a good warrior, and I mean exceptionally so, with some shamanic gifts.
But alone against that hellish creature? The old Bloodhoof would have lost if he had been alone. Which he wasn't.
It wasn't a duel, even if the demons and undead didn't join, preferring to rampage away from them mindlessly.
Thrall arrived and provided support from a safe distance atop his canine steed. Lighting crackled from his hammer, and even more rained on the doomguard, for the demon was precisely that.
They were holding on and winning by the looks of it, but it would be a pyrrhic victory at best, for demons were quickly coming.
If the doomguard didn't have something as a last resort, he certainly would, as any demon of that power would. It was safer to assume than be dead and surprised.
"That's the lord of the doomguards… hm, probably." I pondered aloud; that monster certainly looked the part, and even from here, the disgusting Fel he polluted the air with was far beyond any of his kindred I mauled till now.
Again, it wasn't Mannoroth, and the tauren and Warchief were steadily gaining terrain, but there was no reason to underestimate him.
I could see injuries from here piling up; losing either would devastate the Horde. Thereby, it was devastating for our survival, my life, and the furbolgs'; every second counted.
Arrogance was what ended the pit lord in the first place. This doomguard was one of the leading figures of the Burning Legion here, and it didn't take much more internal debate for me to decide on what to do.
'By the ancestors, you're going back where you came from.' That thought was long since made as I arrived there. I didn't stay idly watching as I decided what to do.
The first sign of my presence was from Groo,t and my clever companion shot the unprotected membranes of the doomguard's wings.
Quilboar thorns among blank bolts charged in mana rained on them, shredding the delicate skin and pinning the demonic trash to the ground. No high ground for him anymore.
It pissed off the demon in question.
His head snapped toward me, he snarled, and his voice boomed with rage, "How dare you, beast, attack Kaz'rogal!"
My answer was a screech, and more blank bolts were shot in his general direction, forcing him to protect his face.
It was a diversion Cairne fully exploited, driving his spear deep into the large doomguard's neck, shredding the throat and spraying bright green blood.
Thrall's Doomhammer came next, and with a mighty swing glowing in elemental power, the horned head was pulped.
And just like Kaz'rogal–hypothetically some kind of demon lord–died, the body bursting into a blazing toxic green inferno, leaving nothing behind but a howl of rage.
"My thanks, Ohto." The Chieftain of the Bloodhoof said with a pained intake of her, and that was my signal to heal him. The cuts and bruises over his muscular form vanished at once. He thanked me again.
"We're nearing the rendezvous point," Thrall commented as I did a wave of healing on him as well. I nodded all the while and gruffly mumbled.
"Yeah, now back to fighting. Ursoc gives you strength and Ursol serenity." I turned into my bat form and went into the sky.
It happened faster than I could conceptualize.
There was a flash of blinding green, and then sharp burning and twisting pain erupted from my back.
It was a pain above all I had ever felt in both lives and was spreading from the point of impact to frightening speed. My mind blanked for the shortest of moments in pure agony.
My muscles were being inverted along with my fur, and it felt as if my insides were being drawn out from that point as blood, pus, and necrotic tissue mingled in the torturous experience.
I was trying to stop this curse with little success beyond slowing its progress and making it far more painful.
It wasn't of my doing, and the familiar suffocating presence appeared behind with a mocking, sadistic chuckle in that deeply disgusting voice I recognized as Archimonde's, making it obvious who it was the source.
"Fuck! Shit!" I cried out, almost falling out of the sky; I couldn't heal the ever-growing damage.
It was a cancerous spell that would progressively invert my insides; it was a simple deduction.
It was pulling my flesh out against my will and magic, leaving me feeling utterly violated. It was visceral, and the next few seconds would be my last if I didn't do anything.
But I wasn't out of options, and I chose to force the area around the infected part into apoptosis, intentionally killing the tissue as half my skin, with Groot's help, was torn off with a wet ripping sound.
It left my exposed muscle and fat to the harsh smog-filled air. It was excruciating but almost pleasant to what it had been in comparison.
I screamed profanities into the sky regardless, but I immediately began healing as I flew faster, my heart hammering in my ribcage despite my methodical breathing.
I was internally panicking, but it wasn't my first time, and I was past that stage of losing control.
Be that as it may, it was terrifying. I didn't want to die, and that was the greatest motivation.
I screeched again as another of those beams hit me, this time merely grazing the tip of my right wing.
I reacted faster this time. It was enough to force me to self-amputate the affected part if I didn't want to lose the entire limb.
"Fascinating." Archimonde said far behind, but it felt like he was whispering in my ears, "I would be honored to be among the few to survive my Finger of Death… but little bear, how many layers can you peel and regenerate of yourself?"
I moved faster. I briefly looked back, and the demon lord was strolling behind, his form far beyond any creature in size, lazily stomping forward.
'Shitshitshit!' He was destroying everything; with a wave of his hand, hundreds exploded into blobs of blood.
While his step, growing in size, crushed all beneath them, and the endless army of the Burning Legion was behind.
And I was his focus.
Comments
Noknok
Did he think Archie will let him off the hook for blinding him 😂 he can buy more time at least.
Bat
Ouch. That description made me wince in sympathetic pain.
Asura
Thanks for the awesome chapter 👋🔥
Mika Willems
Yup, trouble magnet. You could almost use him as a lure.
