The Bloodshed in Ashenvale

The sun starts to set down, the light getting ever so dimmer in the forest. The birds in the sky are scarce and most animals secluded in their dens; the noises, the stir, all the commotion is now replaced by the quiet of the impending night. Now and then is still hearable, some faint noise, paws rushing, growls echoing thru the forest. The ranks have been called; the Winterblades are to gather by their base, the Lieut. General has requested their presence. The nightsabers rush within the forest, swift and almost silent, guarded by the shadows of the luxurious forest of Ashenvale, their rest will come soon.
Within the Silverwing Outpost a small gathering is already visible, Arodeesa Winterstorm waits for those still to come. As the stars slowly appear in the far sky, some together, others alone, the remaining Night Elves start to assemble. The command isn’t needed, almost unconsciously the ranks gather in a line waiting for the meeting to begin. In a most stoic way Arodeesa speaks:
- The meeting has begun.
The most urgent matters are attended; Arodeesa speaks with ease gathering the ranks attention for what needs most awareness in a future perspective. Although the imminent attacks expected by the Orcs and the Sin’dorei, Ashenvale is being quite peaceful; the Night Elves remain impatient, some very skittish and doubtful of such tranquil times. Therefore, the Winterblades are to scout the Elven areas without higher orders, it is simply their duty has a Sentinel Army. Lieut. General keeps her gaze at the soldiers, speaking further of the activities of the Horde; it is discussed the supplies and armory routes, their strengths and disadvantages, their most doubtful allies. Some show verbal interest in all that has been said, others wait impatiently for the carnage. The orders for the day have been delivered:
- The Splintertree Post and the Warsong Lumber Camp are to be attacked. All supplies and armory routes are to be severed; our goal is to weaken our enemy before the major armies arrive in Ashenvale.
Others elves start speaking, different views about what is need to further be done arise. Some talk of the Barrens, others refer the goblins addressing their not so neutral position towards the Horde. A consensus was reached: those who agree on denying the goblins any allegiance will attack Ratchet and Everlook after the Orcs have been dealt with. The Lieut. General speaks once again:
- Put on your best armor Brothers and Sisters for we are to leave to battle.
The orders are clear and the call for combat has been sound; the Night Elves are to kill every Orc in sight without any hesitation or doubt. Gathered in one purpose, the Elves leave the Silverwing Outpost: those specialized in stealth go further scouting the areas, for higher skilled enemies; Warriors follow killing everything in sight; the skilled Hunters pursue any fleeing or evasive prey at their vision; finally, the menders go by close if any plan goes not accordingly, but still very capable in combat.
The carnage of the Splintertree Post and the Warsong Lumber Camp wasn’t enough for these soldiers. The unprepared and low skilled Orcs from these camps weren’t enough to quench the blood lust of many of the soldiers; an easy kill wasn’t enough for these high trained Elves. Nevertheless, as they prepare to move onto the Mor’Shan Ramparts a terrible sight was gazed upon: the attacked Outposts had made the call, the Orcs of the Red Blade had come in aid. The Winterblades were lesser in number, their experience and skill wasn’t enough for so many warriors. Some Elves had been dealt with worrying wounds as the call of regroup is called, but nothing would foresee the approaching mayhem and near slaughter the Winterblades would encounter. As the ranks attempt to gather, Arodeesa shouts by her lungs:
- Warriors of the Night to battle! For Cenarius! For Elune!
Once again the ranks are driven onto the battlefield, clearly outnumbered by the Orcs. Chaos and havoc everywhere, the elves try but they are simply too many; their arrows and swords aren’t enough, their numbers fall too shortly. As they fight for their lives in Raynewood Retreat, desperation reaches one by one.
In a once serene land, the arrows brush thru, the blood spills onto the leaves, the swords graze onto each others. This night has become one of bloodshed. Arodeesa speaks swiftly and almost out of breath, as she fights avoiding her own disgrace:
- Soldiers retreat! Fall back! Gather in the Silverwing Grove!
As it is possible for the Night Elves, they retreat from combat since it is unattainable for them to achieve nothing more than death. Priests and Druids as it seems, don’t have enough hands for there are many wounds and unconscious soldiers; axes and swords, poisons and arrows, scratches and deep wounds. The supplies brought by the Sentinels aren’t at all appropriate for such magnitude of injuries. Although many soldiers have been tended to, others are missing, behind in combat; the still capable soldiers are to get those rank elements until everyone is safe. Within time, the last few lost soldiers arrive either by their own foot or brought in by a fellow Winterblade. The sight is not a pleasing one, the smell and stench of Orc Blood linger onto the Elves; the poisons still aggravate their already slow recovery.
In this night no loss is cried, only thoughts of the dire times ahead remain within these hopeful soldiers.


Ps. This story takes place in the meeting of 17th of June. These are the happenings reenacted. Sorry for any typos.

Very well written! Huzzah! *applauds*

Unfortunately, I missed the OotRB part of the meeting but that doesn't matter because my God, you really captured the chaos that must have insued there! Well done, well done, well done!

The red blades rule supreme!

thanks for bumping into us!

I'm pretty sure -you- bumped into -us-.

Manathon wrote:I'm pretty sure -you- bumped into -us-.

the more dense atom displaced the smaller one, so alot of bumping went on, yes!

Thank you the Winterblades. Thank you OotRB, I truly felt despair! Oh the killing.