(42) - Old Hillsbrad - Part II

"The irony was that without the dwarf paladins watching his orc buttocks, he'd be spread all over the landscape" thought Griffonclaw as he blocked a two-handed thrust from a Tarren Mill Protector. Still and all, the orc who would free the orcs from the control of the Burning Legion was quite impressive, if showy, with his weapons work. Stronger than a human, and as fast as a viper, Thrall's axe was a blur. Bjarki was at his back, and Haglal was hanging back, making sure that none of the wounds that got through their defense was debilitating.

Griffonclaw was warding Thrinwizzle and Janira, who stood halfway between the carnage their felhounds were wreaking on the Tarren Mill patrol, and Griffonclaw. Warlocks gestured and chanted in Demonic, and hellfire rained down from clear skies.

The Tarren Mill guards had no defense. One by one, or in small groups they died, their only crime being that they sought to keep Thrall from Taretha, who was being held in the second floor of the inn. And they - the Hammers and friends - had to keep Thrall alive, or their entire existance was threatened.

Someone or something called the Infinite Flight was trying to change the present by disrupting the past; a bronze dragon named Andormu had recruited Thrinwizzle to preserve the past in general, and Thrall in particular, and Thrinwizzle had summoned a team.

Griffonclaw didn't understand the magics that had sent them back alomst a decade to Tarren Mill and Durnholde Keep, but he didn't need to understand; he just needed to follow Thrinwizzle's orders.

Which were simple.

Keep Thrall alive.

"At all costs, Griffonclaw" he had added, and Griffonclaw nodded. Haglal might die, the lovely Janira might perish, and the Infinite Flight might tear Bjarki to pieces. All of them could suffer True Death here in Old Hillsbrad, so long as Thrall lived, and the mission would still be considered successful; their present would be preserved, and Kestralil would live.

And so when Thrall found out that his friend had been taken, there was nothing that would serve but to rescue her. And so, the Hammers and their allies plunged again into battle against men and women who, under other circumstances would be their friends.

That most of them would die before five years was out, to the Plague or the warfare, helped a little, but not a lot.

One of the Protectors - a paladin of the Light, on detached service - had been close enough in resemblance to Kestralil to have been a sister or aunt or cousin. Or perhaps even her mother, although the math didn't quite work... but it was possible.

Griffonclaw had taken her low in the back, and ripped his sword upward and out before she could put her two-handed mace through Thrinwizzle's head. He was not looking forward to telling her; Telonial had already uncovered members of the Shadow Syndicate who bore a striking resemblence.

Time for reflection, and confession, later. If there was to be a later.

For at this moment, Thrall was showing that he would become a master of military tactics later; for now, he was charging the front door, axe and shield brandished fearsomely.

Griffonclaw hoped that the guards didn't have crossbows, or if they did that they were lousy shots. Fortunately, expanding balls of hellfire passed over Thrall's shoulders, streaking past him as if he was standing still. Thrinwizzle's missle was at waist height, and Janira's shoulder level, and both struck and exploded inside the building before Thrall could pass the doorjamb.

Thrall didn't pause, but ran up the stairs, and his snarls and the sound of metal on metal sent the paladins rushing to follow in his wake.

By the time they reached the landing, four of the five guards were dead, and Thrall was well on the way to making the last join his comrades. In the center of where they had been was Taretha, emprisoned in some kind of glowing crystalline matrix. When it became apparent that we were allies of Thrall, and not reinforcements for her captors, she relaxed.

"Thank you for helping Thrall escape, friends," she began. "Now I only hope you can help me as well. I awoke to find myself trapped in this magical prison. A strange wizard told me that I would have to stay here for a while."

"Strange wizard?" Janira asked.

"Yes, friends. This man was no wizard of Dalaran. His clothes looked quite foreign, and his accent was unfamiliar. All he could mumble about was time this, time that. You'll have to find that wizard and convince him to release me."

"We'll get you out, Taretha. Don't worry," Janira replied. "I doubt the wizard would wander too far away. "

As if on cue, a voice rang out from the village, sounding as if it issued forth from a giant. Or more to the point, a dragon.

"Thrall! Come outside and face your fate!" called the voice. "Taretha's life hangs in the balance. Surely you care for her. Surely you wish to save her..."

This time Thrall didn't go first. He let Griffonclaw go first. "Oh boy!" thought Griffonclaw sarcasticly. "Now he learns..."

At the far end of the main road was a dragon, hovering above the buildings. It was black, and beyond black; it's scales glowed with dark Nether energies. Again its voice boomed out. "Ah, there you are. I had hoped to accomplish this with a bit of subtlety, but I suppose direct confrontation was inevitable. Your future, Thrall, must not come to pass and so...you and your troublesome friends must die!"

Out from the building came more guards, and as they slowly approached Thrall and his defenders, they shifted and changed, becoming dragonkin, scaley centaur-like humanoid lizards. Like their master, they gleamed with black negative energy.

The deagonkin came in waves, slowly closing on them, but rather than let themselves become encircled Thrall lunged forward, a dwarven paladin to either side, and felhound fangs flashing on the flanks. Janira and Thrinwizzle launched bolt after bolt of destructive power, but Griffonclaw's sword stayed sheathed, his eyes narrow and unfocused. He backed away until he could see all five of his friends, and chanted in a low voice. His hands glowed, and spasm after spasm of healing Light erupted from his hands, striking and renewing his comrade's bodies against the onslaught.

He had learned this healing technique from Father Barri, who taught a Scool of Healing in Ironforge. He hoped that he would survive to tell him how well it worked.

The fight waged on two fronts, the physical and the magical. Darkling energies healed the Dragonkin in the same way that Griffonclaw was healing his friends. This was not going to end swiftly; it would end when one side or another dropped from exhaustion.

Janira was the first to fall. One of the dragonkin turned to flee, and she and her felhound pursued. They slew it, but attracted the attention of the dragon itself. Black energies struck her, and she was beyond Griffonclaw's range; he could not move to heal her and continue to heal Thrall. "Janira.. I am sorry" he mumbled, and tears ran down his face when she crumpled in a heap, unmoving.

He kept healing.

One noticed him, finally; it had been inevitable. Out came Griffonclaw's blade, and he cried "HAMMERS!" at the top of his lungs as he blocked the enormous scimitar. The dragonkin's blow was strong, but slow, and Griffonclaw practiced against Kestralil, who made a rattlesnake look lethargic; he made short work of the creature, and resumed healing.

But while he had done so, Bjarki had fallen.

Haglal was striking against the dragonkin, then healing himself or another, then striking again. Griffonclaw warded his back, sword and shield at the ready, calling down healing bolts from the Light one time, and invoking Horath's Judgement another; it would heal those judged worthy, and damage those it did not.


And then, there were no more dragonkin.

Just the drgon himself, who did not scruple to attack with claw, bite, and tail strike.

Thrinwizzle fell, while the paladins were healing Thrall. Haglal made the choice to heal Griffonclaw, and not himself, falling to a claw blow seconds later.

Thrall was focused entirely on carving the dragon into small, bite-sized pieces. His shield was riven, but he tossed it at his reptilian opponent and used his axe two-handed. Its blade opened black wounds, and purple ichor burst forth. The dragon's mouth snapped, and part of Thrall's shoulder came away, to be almost instantly regrown under the steady stream of healing Light Griffonclaw poured forth. Weakness assailed him and he fell to his knees, his healing prayers and chants never stopping.

Finally, the dragon must have come to the conclusion that he wasn't going to win this battle, and turned to flee; Thrall screamed "No, wyrm!" and hurled the axe spinning at the draconian head. It landed with a sickening, meaty noise, just behind the ears, burying itself halfway. The thing screamed then, and its body dissolved in the air.

Thrall picked Griffonclaw up and carried him to each of their fallen friends in turn, and held the paladin upright while he spent the last of his enegies carefully. Griffonclaw didn't know how much he had left, and of he did anything but the bare minimum, he might not have enough to help all. Janira was first, and the worst off. Then Thrinwizzle, then Bjarki, and last of all Haglal. And when he felt though the healing link that Haglal would breath on his own, and his dwarven friend's eyes fluttered and opened, Griffonclaw finally let the darkness hovering at his eyes overtake him.