Ok here it is ^^
The sound of boney hooves against a rock every so often, along with the grunting of a plague thrower, was the only thing that could be heard currently as the Forsaken warband rounded a path, intent on downing a Kal’dorei camp just east of their position. These battles in Darkshore had been long, and the Alliance and Horde were at a stalemate. Still, that didn’t stop either faction from bringing in allies in attempt to just end it now.
Sounds of furious flapping hit the ears of the forsaken general on duty–Anabelle, of whom had been here for many months, let out a sigh. Great…they have arrived. Solidifying from a cloud of bats right next to her was a tall, lean elf with ears of a bat, eyes of pure black, fangs when he spoke and an extremely pale complexion. San’layn were relatively new allies, and like new kids in school, needed to prove themselves. That didn’t mean they weren’t a prideful lot, like their living counterparts.
“Yes, yes. I have arrived. I am here to finally finish what you started, general,” he chuckled, a smirk plastered upon his face. He was Blood Prince Atherann, having emerged from hiding to aid in finding a home for his people within the Horde.
“So kind of you to show up and not waste time flying about pointlessly like you and your lot usually do. Now, if you could make yourself useful, I would appreciate your stealth ahead, and an alert to the number of en–” Anabelle began, but she was cut off by a laugh.
“Nonsense! I will scout up ahead and silence our enemies, all in one! I can handle it, O general,” he replied. With that, and without listening for anything else, he dissolved into a cloud of bats, flying off to who knows where. Anabelle sighed and facepalmed, shaking her head.
“Those arrogant fools will learn the hard way,” she muttered to herself. Sighing, her warband carried on, knowing it would catch up with the Blood Prince soon enough.
Meanwhile, Atherann spotted a night elf patrol up ahead and cackled, swooping down and once more soldifying. He grabbed the first and bit hard into her neck, ripping out her jugular and chewing, enjoying the taste of blood as usual. How glorious. The others in the scouting party, four to be exact, jumped to action. Shifting into ferocious feline beasts, they raked their claws along his back, causing him to wince but not totally be defeated. He tossed the body aside, whirling and grabbing for another druid. This time he used his own claws, plunging them into the druid’s side and dealing some pretty serious organ damage.
The sound of flapping did not disturb the Blood Prince, for it was just an owl… one of the scouts flying away to get help, which he paid no mind to. He could take them all. Besides, he was too busy fighting off these enemies! Tossing the damaged druid aside and taking some deep gouges to his chest, he muttered to himself, taking control of the blood within his next target’s veins and causing it to burst from every pore, eyes, and ears. That ended the druid rather quickly. One left.
The druid circled Atherann, snarling, “You and your kind will perish under Elune. Your vile filth taints the forest, and you will soon be ripped to shreds.” She bared her feline fangs at him, her tail lashing back and forth. At the moment, she had a magic enchantment, protecting her from the dangerous blood magic of the Prince. Atherann smirked, licking his lips.
“Foolish little night elf. You think you and your kind have a chance against me? Path–” he began, but suddenly he was hit from behind, and the roars of pure fury hit his ears. He turned his back to the circling elf only to face a large bear… and oh dear, he had company. He gasped upon seeing ten more night elves, rushing toward him and lashing out with light magic as the bear druid held him still. Suddenly, claws sunk into his back–the druid from before had certainly not forgotten what he did to the others in her scouting party. Atherann struggled, but was weakening fast.
That is, until… KABOOM! …an explosion to his right caused the bear to drop him and the night elves to scatter, coughing as green mist filled the area. They dropped like flies, falling and twitching as their muscles gave way to the plague. Atherann coughed as well, his hand flying to his chest–this stuff was fatal to the undead too. He knelt there, tears of blood gliding down his cheek, until he felt a tap on his shoulder.
Looking up, he spotted a boney hand offering a plague mask to him, of which he quickly put over his face. Relieved, he stood up, meeting the eyes of Anabelle from under a mask of her own. She grabbed his hand and dragged him out of the plague area, throwing him to the ground and ripping off her mask.
“So. Where did your arrogance land you, San’layn? You idiot. I should very well leave you there next time. This isn’t a game, and this isn’t every undead for themselves,” she snapped.
Sheepishly, and now laying on the ground there with no effort to get up, Prince Atherann replied, “I am used to working alone, ma’am, I thought…”
“You thought? Or you just did?! Once again, I will say it. Idiot. Get up,” Anabelle grumbled, holding her hand out to him. He accepted it, pulling himself up with her help, and wiping some gore off of his robes. His ears hung a bit guiltily, as he did know he made a pretty big mistake back there. “None of this feeling bad for yourself, either. I know you want to prove yourself,” Anabelle added, soon enough punching him in the shoulder, hard. “Be useful and listen this time. Got it?!”
She narrowed her eyes, allowing the smallest of smiles to show on her face. Atherann nodded, finally saluting to her. “Yes ma’am. I will not do such foolish things again. Ah… and thank you for saving me.”
“Shut up and get walking,” Anabelle replied with a smirk.