"Slowly, keep your body low… Remember the forests of Eversong… Without the forests… "
The woman mumbled to herself, looking across what had become a gruesome and primitive dance of steel and muscle, a warzone between those who called Azeroth home and those who would seek to conquer it in Fel Fire. The mountain, or what would’ve been one before the sundering of Draenor, provided the young, previously lost Ranger a vantage point, yet there was a whole battlefield between her and the Portal that led home. Come on… Pull yourself together. You’re a farstrider! With a nod, the woman seemed to pump herself up as she had many times before. Even through the decade old wait her willpower remained as resiliently stubborn as ever before and this was something the little Elf wore proudly on her sleeve. It had been long since she first stumbled into the shattered world of Draenor and finally, the end was in sight. She had to get past Helfire Penninsula and into Netherstorm, Tempest Keep awaited and with it, the Exodar she was ordered to sabotage.
"Ranger-Captain! We have hostiles approaching upon the first Elfgate! They appear… Ill. "
The newest arrival to the Rangers briefed the small redhead. Retrieving her bow, which was crafted in such a way that the ends resembled red flames, the young Captain sprinted out of the inn where she had just sat down to talk with her sibbling. They were three and she was the eldest. She rarely saw her middle brother as of late, work as a Magister kept him to busy to come home or perhaps he felt like his hearth was elsewhere, among the books and his own research. She had been looking forward to the meeting, she missed him dearly but duty always came first. Rushing through the gates of Silvermoon, her feet seemed to become one with nature as they began to sprint seamlessly towards the first Elfgate, in the back of her head she couldn't help but resent the poor messenger, after all this was specifically her day off. When she reached the massive, impressive construct that formed both a magical and physical barrier to those that sought to enter the heart of the High Kingdom, only confused expressions and a waiting group of guardsmen and Rangers greeted her as well as a much taller and somewhat clumsy Lieutenant. "Ranger-Captain Flameweaver! The Ranger-General has already gone out to inspect the disruptions ahead, it seems our magic nullifying stones were tempered with. People also described seeing human figures shambling about. There’s still no word from Dalaran or Lordearon." Whatever was about to happen, Shana knew it would mean trouble and, as she peered ahead, her stomach sank. The land was slowly withering away, dying as if a Plague had washed over the outer lands of Eversong. It was a horrifying view that became all the worse when human figures were seen shambling about. Is that- Shana’s voice was halted mid query by a soft and young voice that was equal parts masculine and feminine. "Necromancy, yes. You owe me gold, sister…" The middle brother added playfully as if trying to hide the painful reality that had suddenly befallen them. What came after was a siege, one where Arthas killed 80% of her kind. A siege in which evil prevailed once again and defiled the sunwell.
All of this due to one elf’s hubris. Dar’Khan Drathir.
Voices rang in her head, drowning out the cries of anguish that came from outside. Even Ranger-General Windrunner perished before the might of the Scourge. Her armour was battered and beaten, she clearly fought to her last breath, but in the end she knew the inevitable outcome was simple: defeat; and she had people to care for, people to save. The voices of her family kept her sane as she ran across the desolate streets of Silvermoon. Bodies littered the floor and the moans and groans of the encroaching undead kept her senses tingling. Each movement on her peripheral vision warranted the snap of her head and a hand on her trusty runeblade… She had ran out of arrows and her impressive feats as both a spellblade and spellbow could only be maintained for so long. No one would stop her, not even Arthas himself would halt her approach, Shana had chosen a course of action and to divert from such path is to admit defeat, in her eyes at least. The voice of the Magister rang in her head, further empowering the deadly determination of the Flameweaver star child, the pride that had launched her family from small nobility to a powerhouse among both the Magisters via her younger Brother, who still is among the if not the youngest mages to ever be given the title, and the Rangers via her own prowess and determination. The youngest brother had wilfully departed to take part and learn from the Kirin Tor of Dalaran mere months before this invasion began. As such, it was her parents and her brother that she so desperately sprinted towards, that she shed anguished tears for. Entering her house almost sliding, she shoulder bashed doors open only to have her nostrils once again filled with the pungent stench of death. Two geists feasted upon the deceased corpses of her parents and she had just given them a new meal. Cornered and in shock, Shana backpedalled only to fall to the floor. She shook her head, her piercing, ethereal blue gaze was all but broken and her wide eyes were locked ahead, yet they gazed at the void, unfocused. Her empty stare would mark one’s soul forever, it was if her whole world slowly crumbled before her until only she remained, damned to an eternity of agony. The Scourge had no time for such trivial matters, emotions are meaningless for the Damned, for those who had forsaken their soul. "Anu shanda’liel!" The familiar voice cried out from behind her and the scenery around the ranger became field of pure arcane blue before that hue then changed.
Her eyes hurt, the blast of arcane magic was too bright, but the scent of salt and water tickled her nose and a gentle breeze slowly loosened her locks from their resting position against her shoulders. She shuddered, her mind imprinted with the vision of her dead parents. She blinked once more and that vivid memory replayed once more. A third blink and her blurry field of vision replaced one shade of blue with another… She was on a boat with other refugees and… Antonidas’ apprentice?! Little did she know, this would not be the last time she dealt with the Legion and their play toys.
Her memory of those days was still fresh and lively, those moments were carved into her memory with a painfully sharp chisel, but worse trials had awaited her ahead.