Ashes And Arrows: The Bright Fire

A novel involving my former WoW character Ashe and her adventures.

After the horrid destruction of Kezan caused by Deathwing tearing through the heart of the world we know as Azeroth, Âshe finds herself in the great Horde city of Orgrimmar. A stranger to these lands and with her entire family perishing to Deathwing's destructive power, she has sworn to carry on the legacy that is her family, many generations of proud Hunters. She soon find herself drawn to help heal the lands hurt by the Cataclysm and gets involved in a long journey, taking her far and wide to areas she could only dream of.

I want to point out, while there is ALOT of lore and actual facts from World of Warcraft involved in this story, there WILL be inconsistensies, seeing as it is still fanfiction, so do not take it serious.

Disclaimer - The name Ashe is in fact not stolen or nicked from League of Legends. I've had the name for roughly 10 years, ever since I started playing World of Warcraft back in Vanilla Beta.

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19. The Battle Rages On

  Âshe heart was pumping hard in her chest as the smell of thick smoke grew stronger, the closer she and Ome got to the battlefront. Her heart was beating faster and faster with each running step she took. She was scared, worried that Targok was already executed by the Alliance forces. As they rushed towards the battle, the sounds of loud war-cries and screams of death filled their hearts with horror. They were prepared for the worst. They were nearing the last bush-formation before the open fields beyond the forest and Âshe signaled Ome to stop right before breaching the bushes. Âshe took point and scouted their surroundings. The battle was heating up and in the distance, Âshe caught a glimpse of a Human soldier locked in battle against a brute Orc grunt, separated from the rest of the main army.

  Both of them had taken a few hits, but the Orc was exhausted and it was obvious his legs couldn't carry him much longer. A large open would across his left leg, had him in severe pain and the Human seemed to be toying with the grunt, before he killing the Orc. Âshe quickly signaled Ome to fall behind her and to protect the Orc while she took care of the Human soldier. Ome quickly nodded and they sat of in a fast sprint. With an arrow drawn on her bow, Âshe readied a shot and waiting for her moment. Running and shooting was not an easy technique, but for Âshe, it was as easy as shooting cans at a 20 yard pace. As they got into perfection position, Âshe caught eyesight with the Orc.

  A quick exchange of looks was all they needed to understand what was going to happen. The Human quickly noticed the Orc looking away and as he looked to his right and noticed Âshe with an arrow drawn, he quickly swung his shield into position. In that exact moment, Âshe fired the arrow and while the shield took the majority of the blow, it still pierced his shield and graced his hand, leaving a small scar. While the Human soldier was busy defending himself, Ome quickly swooped in and grabbed the Orc, while making a run for the Horde side of the army in the background. "We'll meet up later! Get that grunt to safety!" Âshe's voice rang clear in Ome's ears, who continued running with the injured Orc on his back without stopping or turning around to look at the small Goblin. As Ome disappeared behind the soldier, Âshe looked at the Human soldier who had lowered his shield.

  "So a Hunter versus a soldier? Hardly seems like a fair fight. For you that is." Âshe kept calm and knew it would be impossible for her to take this guy down without getting close. His shield was still intact, so he would easily be capable of blocking her ranged attacks. Now was the time to see if she remembered what her old trainer had taught her. "You're right. My arrows would never be able to reach you. Thankfully, they don't have to." Âshe dropped her bow and quiver with arrows to the ground and dismounted the large spear she was carrying on her back. The weapon in her hands was a reward from clearing the Shadow Labyrinth of cultists for the The Scryers in Shattrath City. The weapon was named 'The Sonic Spear' and was crafted with pure adamantite. With a razor sharp edge and a spiked bottom handle, this weapon was the perfect piece of equipment for a Hunter in need of melee combat. She graced the shaft and grabbed it tight, pointing the tip at the soldier. "Let's see what you're made of, Human."

 

  "Well this is inconvenient." The Blood Elf helping Targok had run into a little trouble on the way to the armory. Two guards outside the door to the vault of weapons had nearly discovered them. Thanks to the cunning and swift movement of the Blood Elf, the only glimpse the guards could have caught of them was Targok's foot, being dragged across the floor into the nearby dark corridor. After their patrol, the guards had re-taken their stations at the door to the armory. "Inconvenient? This is downright walking to our deaths." Targok was in a foul mood, mainly due to his lack of strength to fight. He felt helpless and useless. He was used to carrying a heavy axe and a full set of steel plate armor. Now he could barely keep his own body above his knees steady.

  "The effects of the potions should wear off in a minute. In the meantime, let's have some assistance in clearing this way." Targok looked very confused, but his confusion was put to rest, when the Blood Elf Paladin pulled up a small medallion. With a single touch it began to glow and the Blood Elf returned the medallion to his pocket. In less than a minute, the guards started making weird noises foreign to Targok. As he looked down the corridor, he started hearing screams of pain from the two guards, who with a massive slam, struck the floor and dropped dead. Targok was amazed. "What kind of magic is this?" The Blood Elf had a smug smile on his face. "THAT, my friend, is no magic trick. Just merely a precaution. Follow me, we need to get you geared up and ready for battle. Our escape from this place has barely begun."

 

  Kevin kneeled onto the road, brushing his finger tips over the dried blood trails. Something definitely happened here and Kevin was sure Âshe, Ome and Targok was involved. He sensed weak trails of holy magic in the combined blood trails leading off the road and into the nearby forest. Ome must have been one of them and by the looks of it, Âshe was the one with him. Kevin figured the small blood trail leading off to the hills would have been Targok's. His armor was much thicker and broader than anything Âshe or Ome was wearing and would have taken the least amount of damage from the attack.

  Based on the information Hamuul had given Kevin, diving head first into an Alliance encampment wouldn't be the best choice. As he began walking towards the forest, he suddenly heard a faint sound he clearly recognized. "Ruk'Thar has begun the attack, hasn't he. Damn that mindless ogre." Kevin remembered what happened the last time Ruk'Thar failed his mission. Kevin was Ruk'Thar's advisor and had nearly begged him to reconsider his plan of attack when he brashly rushed into combat, delivering himself and his troops straight into a Night Elf ambush in Ashenvale. The Night Elves had spared Ruk'Thar in the hope Garrosh would've killed him to teach his other Generals and Commanders a lesson. Most people didn't live after failing Garrosh. Kevin decided the investigation would have to wait. He had to make sure Ruk'Thar hadn't made another mistake.

 

  Ruk'Thar had his Black War Kodo prepared for battle. As soon as he had armored up and grabbed his axe, he mounted the mighty beast and with a loud war-cry, he assisted his personal battalion of troops in combat. The General was as skilled with an axe, as he was skilled in tactics. He had served in the Horde Military since the age of 17, when he left home in rebellion against his father, who wanted him to become an apple cactus farmer like himself. Ruk'Thar had always had a severe bloodlust and hate for his father, wanting him dead for pushing him away from the carrier and goals he wanted to achieve. Ruk'Thar had on several occasions visited his parents at home, with the intention of killing his father. His thirst for seeing his father's blood spilled on the floor was quenched when his mother died by the hands of a pack of Alliance scouts settling down by the southern coast of Durotar. His mother was on an errand to the Sen'jin Village, a small Troll settlement just north of the Echo Isle by the mainland.

  The scouts had caught her off guard on her way back to the Valley of Trials and tortured her for information before ending her life. Ruk'Thar's hatred for his father was instantly replaced with a desire to exact revenge on every member of the Alliance he could find, which had lead to his fast advancement in the ranks inside the Horde Military. For 7 years, he fought side by side with his father, killing, pillaging and raping their way through many Alliance camps, villages and cities. His father died a hero's death, when he lost a duel to an Alliance Shaman.

  His last wish, was for the Shaman to kill him, since he did not want to return to his people with a lost duel hanging as a tough burden on his shoulders. The Shaman obliged his wish and killed him. Ruk'Thar could only watch at a distance and even though he could have chosen to chase down and challenge the Shaman, he didn't. He acknowledged the honor of winning and loosing a duel, no matter who was involved. The loser died and the winner walked away. Unwritten rules, but people lived by them none the less. As he buried his father, Ruk'Thar continued to follow his path to revenge and promised himself not to hesitate, until death itself stopped him. As Ruk'Thar charged into the battle with his armored Kodo, trampling Alliance soldiers under it's feet, his eyes were fiery red, filled with rage and bloodlust.

 

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