Wrathgate Wednesday part 1: Old Tradition and Green Recruits
By Bricu | October 21, 2009
The Wildfire Riders – Bellesta by *JRinaldi on deviantART
Last week, Wrathgate Wednesday gave you Tarq’s impassioned speech–the moment in Wrathgate where damn near every Wildfire Rider thinks this battle is going to go our way. The next three entries occur right after Tarq’s post.
Bellesta is the most feral of feral druids. She may belong to a secret sect of druids–maybe a sect of one–who count Omen as their spiritual link. Feliche, her current mate, is a stand-up, beefy guy who just rolls with the punches. Literally.
Haylie Dannis is a raw recruit, a new alt introduced by a founding Rider, Genise/Chryste. While she didn’t hear Tarq’s speech, she has her own motivations for being at the front.
Bellesta
As the tides of men began to close in on the gate, Bellesta watched down onto the battlefield. Fur bristled beneath her spiked bark armor, nostrils flared with the scent of the cold snow. Tarquin’s words rang in her ears, stirring her internal prayers.
Ursoc guide my claws.
Ursol be my eyes.
Malorne be my swift wind.
Elune guard my spirit.
Cenarius give me wisdom.
A growl rose in her throat, the last words joining the cacophony of noise made by the trumpets in the distance. Her forelimbs thrashed in the air, head thrown back, black and red fluttering.
“OMEN REND THEIR SOULS! THE SNOW BURNS BLACK FOR YOUR GLORY!”
Beside her, Feliche simply gave a stoic nod, leaning with a casual pose that betrayed the tense feeling shared by many. There would be no more silence.
Haylie
~Haylie Dannis and the Wrath Gate: 1~
Angrathar…
Even amidst the many rises of the Dragonblight, it stood tall and visible to all, rivaled in height by Wyrmrest only, and in intimidation by nothing. Hours from now, the Alliance and Horde would join forces in a rare event to bring to justice the lost son of Lordaeron – Arthas Menethil.
The young paladin’s whetstone glided smoothly along the blade of her sword. “Keep your blade’s sharp, soldiers,” Sergeant Deveraux had cried out earlier. “You’ll not kill the scourge with meager blows; for they are already dead! Dismember and destroy them, that is the only way!” And thus the plain young woman set about to ensuring the timeworn blade, passed down through her family, would be sharp enough to cleave bone and wood.
She held the thrash blade up before her. An obviously aged blade it was, elven in design, and no doubt a veteran of many battles. If only it could speak to tell of it’s memories. “This blade is magical, child,” her father spoke a year earlier as he placed it into her hands. “Sharp as a razor, and weightless, but able to strike with blinding speed, and the weight of an axe!”
Her gaze blurred on the blade, and the background of her visual scenario came into focus… The Wrath Gate stood tall before them, not even two miles away.
“Private Dannis!” A sharp voice suddenly called out, snapping the young lady to her senses and forcing her to stand and face Sergeant Deveraux.
“Sorry, sir. Nervous…”
“Aye, fall in, child, it’s time to become a hero.” He managed a dishonest smile. These kids weren’t ready for a battle in the Gulch, much less the major confrontation of this era.
She was going to die today. And her family heirloom would be lost forever. A lump formed in the back of her throat as she fell into formation, joining the marching mass of thousands just like her, and gripped her father, grand father, and great grandfather’s sword tight…
And it dawned on her in that moment; Fairy Tales only exist in fiction.
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