The Unknown Paladin
The maw of the cavern stood before us, the corpses of the fallen ogres beneath our boots smelled sickly sweet with spilled blood and charred flesh. Soon decay would transform these hills into a fetid wasteland. Would Draenor, the promised land of my people, ever find surcease from ruin?
My companions called out for my blessings. Little did they know the power that I bent to my will, striving against the might of the captive Naaru, twisting the Light to do my bidding.
I felt the invigoration of divine magics course through me as the priests wove their spells across the party. A nearby Troll smiled serenely as she called forth the light. Had she abandoned her heritage simply to beg the light for its gifts? Savages and blood enemies they may be, but pride in her race should come before obeisance to an illusory ideal. My thoughts left me as other magics joined the electric surge through my body, fuelling arcane lusts I could not control.
The power was magnificent. Why else would I align myself with the feral brutes and treacherous former humans? And as for my sin'dorei peers... They mattered only as far as I could use them. Kael'thas, who would be King of a ruined people, has taught us even in his betrayal; use those with power enough to aid you, they can be discarded at will.
Our commander, a towering Tauren too often taking the form of a massive bear roared for silence, our numbers a veritable army at his command. Those within knew we were coming, undoubtedly, but in their arrogance they could be defeated. Orders were given quickly and quietly in the hush. The ogres inside were no easy targets. If they would only mount a true defence of their stronghold few forces in this world or those beyond could hope to overcome them.
Fortunately, they were fools.
A bestial face turned to the intruding light as we entered. Even in those inhuman features I could see the recognition flare. Intruders. As many of its kind, the warrior classes, it charged towards us. Before it could reach the fragile magic users the bear-Tauren distracted it with a sweep of his massive paw. Cruel claws kept the creature's attention focused away from its doom, as I forced the Light to seal the bear's wounds.
A figure of the doomed ogre's brethren loomed nearer as its corpse hit the cold stones. A priest wreathed in shadows looked on, oblivious to our wounded as he prepared a fresh barrage for this new threat. His Light-loving fellows and a druid, taking a bastardized treeform in homage to the World-tree, Nordrassil, wove their spells. Beyond, a paladin long out of Silvermoon twisted his power to the same ends, aided by a haggard shaman. Who knew the trials he had faced in this realm of sundered elements, what bargains he struck to invigorate our army and keep them whole.
The bear charged, followed by weapon waving lunatics that called themselves warriors. The shadows held more surprises for the ogre as rogues plied their skills, blackened blades never glinting in the poor torch-light as they went to their grisly work.
Intelligence bordering on reason showed in the bestial face as it bellowed for help from the denizens residing further within before narrowing it's eyes in concentration, raising meaty fists in the air.
I could smell the magic coursing through it.
I longed to drink deep from that well of power.
Sadly, my duties would not allow it and those duties promised the reward of greater magic to come. This morsel of the arcane would do my corpse no good when my distraction cost us our lives. Every healer present focused on the bear, to do less would ensure his death and risk my own. The air was so filled with the aroma of magic I could barely resist as the ogre healed itself with a potent spell. An undead mage cast forth his own arcane weaving... And the spell was his.
There could be no true God to allow an abomination such glorious energies. Sweeping my eyes across my companions I saw these thoughts mirrored in my Blood Knight brother's visage.
Pummelled, kicked and bashed the ogre succumb, crashing to the floor, denied the help it had so desperately called for, as it was deprived of its healing magic.
The far more pleasant smells of a campfire and strong ale came to me through the all pervading sweat and blood. Two of the massive ogres. Not on guard, for we had dealt with the two sentries. Caught unaware, they would still not go down easily.
Even from this distance I could see we were dealing with the brutes. No spark of intellect showed as they stood warming themselves, oblivious to the small army that assailed them.
A Tauren warrior stepped forth hefting a large shield onto his forearm. Shoulder to shoulder with the bear they advanced, and then burst into action, separating the ogres away from each other and our main group. Fire and ice arced through the air, fierce strikes from arrow, bullet and blade pierced flesh as we healers struggled to keep our brawlers on their feet.
With a sudden roar an ogre turned, charging into our ranks. One blow from its vicious axe cleaved a mage in two. The same mage who had been bathed in the ogre's potent restorative magics minutes before. Perhaps a God was directing things, I thought, a wry smile touching my lips. Another of our number was felled before our bestial commander once more took charge of the errant ogre. As it was lead away from our clustered position its companion gave a last bellow of pain and slumped to the ground. Alone it faced us, unswerving in its bravery... or stupidity, before it joined the others.
Creeping forward we could see the High King himself, his full council assembled on some unfathomable whim. They dwarfed those we had bested.
This would be fun.