celyia-mg - Tumblr blog

[celyia-mg]

Lost Hope

Three days. Or was it a week? Time had become difficult to track as the days turned to nights and day again. All Celyia knew was that several days ago, or maybe weeks, she had been engaged upon the sea beating back the Orcish Navy with every ounce of energy she had. But then there came a choice. Sail back with the unlikely heroes of the battle, some privateers who, seemingly, by chance came across the last vestiges of a battle at sea. Or to stay and fight.

She chose to stay. She chose to fight.

And fight she did. Day and night the battles never stopped. The lines were constantly contested, both sides pushing, being pushed back. When at last hope seemed to come, reinforcements from Darnassus and the arrival of the army, it was quickly dashed.

Orcs had stolen their way through Felwood, scaling through the mountains before finding themselves pinching Lor'danel between their two lines.

“Here they come. Hold the lines!” The commander yelled out from somewhere unseen. Celyia watched across the bridge as the first of the Horde appeared.

“Loose!” The commander yelled, and arrows filled the air. Waves of the steel rain came down upon the Horde yet for each that fell there were others to replace them. The entirety of the Horde was upon them and they only had themselves.

“Loose! Hold! Ready! Ready! Charge!”

The kaldorei lines moved forward. The sentinels, druids and other fighters all charging forward to meet their common foe. The bridges were soon choked with soldiers. All fighting for their lives. Each aiming to kill the other before ultimately being cut down. Celyia fought on. Her blade, dripping with an infectious plague, cut through the Horde one soldier at a time. The infectious disease slowly spreading from one living creature to the next, caring not if they were an enemy or friend. It was unfortunate but, with so much on the line, Celyia couldn't hold back.

“Forgive me sisters!” Her hollow voice rose over the din of combat as she brought her blade into the air. Tendrils of necrotic energy washed out from it, coursing through the air as they searched for the flesh of the dead. Around her the living dead began to rise. Orcs, Sin'dorei, trolls and even the kaldorei. It mattered not who they were or what they had been. The undead pushed their way into the oncoming soldiers. They were little more than a meat shield but a sorely needed one.

One by one the undead were cut down, yet with them they dragged down several others. Tearing into their flesh being succumbing to the blades around them.

The slight reprieve was what the kaldorei needed, overcoming their initial shock and disgust at her actions they pushed forward, killing those preoccupied with Celyia’s minions. Yet even as they began to push the Horde across the bridge others were losing theirs.

Around them the kaldorei fell into a rout, retreating to their next line of defense. The air filled with burning masses of debris. Pots full of oil and large burning boulders came crashing down around them. The lucky ones were crushed to death. The others burned where the oil caught them, their screams filling the air like an eerie song.

“Fall back to the docks. Protect the ships!” A voice called out and soon their bridge was in rout, the advances they made all for nothing.

Celyia retreated slowly, her blade outstretched as she tapped into the reserves of her strength raising the dead around her. “Fight on!” She ordered her minions before turning and fleeing.

The docks were in a state or disarray. Refugees were fleeing the combat, making for the ships that would take them to Rut'theran Village. Soldiers moved with them. Those to wounded to fight, others for security. Some simply losing the nerve to fight.

The defenders moved with the people, giving up their ground foot by bloody foot as the fight continued. All along the beaches and throughout the village the war was raging on. The dead seemed to outnumber the living and fire was consuming all it touched.

As the battle winded down, the last vestiges of fighting ending upon the beaches and docks, the final kaldorei ship set sail. The cries of the wounded and afraid filled the air around Celyia as the mainland of Kalimdor slipped further and further away and they disappeared into the night.

“All is lost.”

“There is no one left to defend us...”

“Where is the Alliance?”

All around her she could hear the questions and concerns. The weakness of it made her scowl. It wasn't all lost. The horde would rule their home, but that didn't mean the fighting would stop. They would turn the forests against the invaders just as they had many times over between Darkshore and Ashenvale. They would slip into the burrows and hide, only to leave at night and strike. Hope wasn’t lost unless you gave it up and Celyia would not give up. She could not.

That was when the first of the fiery projectiles slammed into the base of the tree, followed by several more streams of light before explosions lit up the sky. Soon the base of the World Tree began to burn, the fires spreading across the trunk as if racing each other for the top.

It was then, since drowning off the coast of the Broken Shore, that Celyia felt despair. Her home, her people and all she ever fought for, in living and in death, was gone and she couldn’t stop it.

@vinarei For a loose mention.

[celyia-mg]

Risen Once More

“Drop the sail.” The captains voice rang out. Their ship sliced through the water slowly encroaching upon the Broken Shore. A flurry of movement overcame the main deck as sailors rushed to and fro, pulling ropes as the sail was lowered against the mast.

Celyia did her best to stay clear of the sailors. This was their ship, their job. Instead she gently brushed the fur of Misha, her nightsaber. “We are almost there.” She whispered, moving her arms into an embrace with the cat, her fingers slipping between the armor. “You know what we must do. Just like Ashenvale and Pandaria.”

The fur on the back of Misha’s neck rose suddenly as a low growl escaped her. Celyia, taken back by the sudden display of aggression, reached for her glaive as her eyes scanned the horizon. There was nothing to see beyond the looming shore and the demons that no doubt lingered there, yet as she followed Misha’s gaze to the sky above them she saw it. A faint ripple in the sky, almost as if the space was collapsing in on itself.

She wasn’t the only one to notice and soon most of the ship was transfixed upon the temporal blur. The shimmering caused a faint itch in the back of her mind. It was something she had seen before, yet as each second ticked by, she couldn’t place it until a bright green flash filled the air.

“LEGION SHIPS!” She cried out, just as one of the behemoth appeared in the sky above them. Without warning streaks of Fel meteors arced out from the ships, slamming into the water around the fleet. Two ships in the distance went up in felflame, their hulls burning a bright green.

A bright flash grew above them, and as their vessel cut through the waves they couldn’t seem to outdistance it. Within seconds of the launch missile slammed into the front of their ship. Wooden beams cracking under the pressure as an explosion of splinters filled the air. The mast snapped in half from the force, careening into another before lodging itself.

Celyia, having been thrown back from the blast slowly picked herself up. Her arm was a bloody mess, the splinters tearing through the flesh like butter. She moved towards where she had been before, stepping over several bodies of sailors, sentinels and nightsabers alike. Those still standing ran about, trying to put the felflame out yet even water couldn’t quench its’ thirst and the captain soon called to bail the ship.

Yet as all of this happened around her Celyia was blind to it. Her only thoughts were to find Misha. Find Misha and make it to shore.

Stepping over a corpse, another Sentinel that was had a piece of railing lodged into her throat, Celyia slipped in the blood. She dropped down her onto her knees and slid towards the burning, gaping hole at the front of the ship. Her fingers reached out for purchase. Her nails clawing at the soaked wood until they wrapped around damp fur. She tightened her grip and pulled herself in the direction of what she felt, her eyes dragging away from the burning maw and into the face of her nightsaber. “Misha.” Her voice was a strained whisper, the name catching in her throat.

“MISH…” She began to yell but was caught off as another roaring blast enveloped her. The concussion of another meteor slamming into the ship several feet away from her. She felt the ship buckle before the force of the blast launched her over the side of the ship and into the water.

She slammed into the cold ocean water, the weight of her armor slowly dragging her down as she fought against it. Celyia lost sight of what was up and down and soon began to panic. She thrashed, pulling herself through the water as the salt burned at her wounds. She wouldn’t give up. Couldn’t. Yet as she thrashed in the water her vision began to dim until at last she felt a warmth extend throughout her body and a bright white light from above filling her soul with comfort.

The last of the air within her lungs gave out, the faint bubbles making their way to the surface, but she cared not, for she couldn’t. She no longer felt the pain in her lungs, nor the burning in her arm. She couldn’t even feel her body and as she floated, the current carrying her away from the burning ships, she felt herself slip free from her earthly bonds.

She had never felt at such peace before. No longer did she thirst or hunger. She didn’t feel tired, not restless. She could only feel the light from above and the gentle touch of Elune’s blessing.

Peace. Serenity. It was all ripped away from her as fast as she began to embrace it. Water shot out of her mouth as her body contracted with renewed life. She made to breathe yet found that she couldn’t. Confusion and panic washed over her, but as she arose and looked around she saw herself surrounded by others. Dark armors, blue eyes and an eerie silence was all around her and before her a massive Orc stood, necrotic energy extending out from him as it wrapped around her. Filling her body with the power to rise once more.

As she stood there the Orc stepped forward, towering over her as his blue eyes narrowed.

“You’re fight isn’t over Night Elf. Rise and fight with the Ebon Blade, the Lich King has use of you.”