Desperate Struggle

Bulk of Text © Sussurak, 2016

Contributions made by Sandwalker

Heyo, Fistsong and Rhuna are the IP of their players.

World of Warcraft © Blizzard Entertainment

  Fistsong exhaled deeply, staring at her misty breath in the frigid Northrend air as a shudder ran through the Tauren woman’s large frame.  Down on one knee, she looked down to one hand, pressed down in the snow, idly pondering how the red-on-white snow looked almost like a rose.  One eye was closed, a large gash on her brow slowly oozing blood down onto the right side of her face, dozens of cuts and gashes all over her body also bleeding, the cold air slowing the flow.  For a moment, her vision went black and she thought she could hear her husband calling her name.  “...song… Fistsong!”
  Feeling a large hand gripping her shoulder tightly, and a surge of warm energy flowing through her body, taking some of the chill off her bones, Fistsong opened her eyes and lifted her head to stare defiantly into the eye-sockets of the Frostwyrm in front of her, gazing into the chill, blue flames burning in the undead, skeletal dragon’s skull.  Nearly numb fingers curled slowly around the handle of her large halberd, gripping it tightly as she slowly forced herself to rise at glacial pace, her breathing quickening as Rhuna let go of her.
  “Fistsong!  Are you OK? Heyo… Heyo’s out cold! I can't wake her up!”. Her male Tauren companion, and bedmate’s voice was exhausted and worried, on the brink of panic, and Fistsong realised that he must have expended much of his spiritual energy to heal her as much as be could.
  “I'm… alive, for now.”. She focused as best as she could through the pain, taking a deep breath in, exhaling a mint-green mist slowly through her mouth, her wounds emitting a similar mist as they closed a little more, most of the pain leaving her body.  “Get Heyo to safety, love… I'll buy you some time.”
  “What are you saying, Fist?  You can't beat that creature alone!” Rhuna grabbed at Fistsong's arm, the younger Tauren male trying to hold back his own pain, having been caught on the fringes of the Frostwyrm’s deadly breath attack.  His own wounds were far less severe however, and his concern was focused more on his female companions, shooting a frantic glance towards the unconscious Pandaren in the group.  “We… we have to run, Fist.”
  “If we run together, we die together.  I just have to live long enough for you to get out of here.”  Fistsong gently shoved Rhuna in Heyo's direction, making the bull stagger.  “Don't worry about me.  The ancestors will guide me to my family.”  Tears rolled down her brown cheeks as she steeled herself for a final charge, prepared to die for her lovers, as her husband once did for her.
  Hearing a deep, wheezing snarl from the Frostwyrm, Fistsong turned her attention towards it, reaching one hand behind her, grabbing a small keg from the side of her pack, starting to circle around the monstrous undead drake, trying to pull its attention away from her friends.  “Hey!  Eyes on me, boney!”  Hurling the keg of sticky, sweet spirits at the Frostwyrm’s head, she watched it shattering, getting its attention and making it let out a piercing, haunting scream, starting it lumbering towards her.  “That's it, you whelp of a godless BITCH!  LOOK AT ME!” Fistsong bellowed, raising her weapon and charging forward to meet her fate.
  Torn by indecisiveness and his love for both woman, all Rhuna could do for a moment  was watch as the Brewmaster swung her heavy weapon, chips of ice and bone flying into the air from where she struck the undead monster in the left leg.  For a brief moment, fear gripped his heart, taking his breath away, then he shook his head with a pained grimace.  “By Storm, by Wind, by Fire, let this not be our final day…”  He glanced back at Heyo, the red and white Pandaren half buried in the snow, her chest slowly rising and falling, showing that she was still breathing, if unresponsive.  “For your life, my love…”
  Growling, Rhuna picked his weapons up from the ground, no longer feeling the cold, seeing that Fistsong held the Frostwyrm's attention still, and that she’d guided it so that its back was to him, the two combatants going blow for blow, each giving as good as they got, though the Tauren cow was clearly outclassed in size and strength.  Keeping quiet, Rhuna jogged through the packed snow until he was near the wyrm’s hindquarters, flanking it as he bellowed loudly, lifting one strong leg, stomping the ground hard enough to crack the ice beneath, the Frostwyrm staggering a little as the nearest leg slipped out from under it.
  Rhuna took the offered chance, the Windwalker concentrating briefly before his body seemed to split into two ethereal forms, one blazing with red flames, the other crackling with blue lightning, both spiritual forms bringing their weapons down on the fallen hind leg, digging deep enough to splinter bone and cripple living prey.
  Her armour torn and fresh blood staining the snow, Fistsong didn't have time to disapprove of Rhuna ignoring her, busy trying to fend off the Frostwyrm's jaws with the handle of her halberd, fighting to keep her footing as it twisted and jerked its head in an effort to disarm her.
  Obviously tiring of the annoyances that the two Tauren presented it, and damaged from the ongoing fight, the Frostwyrm released Fistsong's weapon and reared up, lashing out at Rhuna’s spirit forms with it’s bony, jagged tail, smashing them aside, the blue lightning spirit dissolving and the fiery aura fading as Rhuna returned to his corporeal state, gasping and clutching at his ribs, gasping for breath.
  Seeing a chance, Fistsong lunged forwards, thrusting her halberd up and between two ribs, putting all her weight and strength into her weapon as she pushed it forwards, violently wrenching one rib out of place and snapping it off, oblivious to the greater danger.
  Damaged, but incapable of feeling any pain, the Frostwyrm’s mouth opened, a chill blue flame burning deep in its throat, and it growled lowly before exhaling a storm of frigid air, filled with thousands of tiny jagged chunks of sharp ice, slicing through the remnants of Fistsong's armour and into her flesh, as deadly as a score of elven arrows.
  Fistsong's eyes went wide with the pain, feeling the chill cutting to the bone. She tried to breathe but managed only a wet, wheezing sound before coughing up blood.  Her head looked up to look into the wyrm’s burning eye sockets as she weakly staggered backwards, understanding that she was looking into the eyes of her killer.
  “Noven--”  She tried to speak, wheezing again as she swayed on her hooves, sinking down to her knees, not even aware of the Frostwyrm falling back down, one massive foreclaw coming down towards her as her last thoughts flashed through her mind.  “I've failed….”
  Half-buried in a snowdrift, feeling a sharp pain in his every movement and breath, all Rhuna could do was watch in horror, unable to even find the breath to scream out Fistsong's name, helpless to prevent the massive bony claw from crushing her down into the hard-packed permafrost. Even from where he was, the Tauren bull thought he could hear the sounds of bones splintering. Tears welled up in his eyes, only to freeze up nearly instantly.
  Lifting its claw to look down at its prey, seeing that the largest annoyance was no longer moving, the Frostwyrm snarled softly and turned towards Rhuna, staggering and dragging the ruined hind leg that Rhuna had attacked, clearly massively damaged as well.  As it got closer, Rhuna thought he could feel the ground trembling, as if an earthquake was occurring nearby.
  Wheezing raggedly, determined to spend his last moments defying the monster that was sure to be the death of the small party of Monks and lovers, Rhuna screamed out in pain as he pushed snow and ice off him, freeing himself far too slowly, the ground definitely shaking now, a beating, rhythmic sound accompanying the tremors. Panting and gasping for breath, Rhuna reached to his belt pouch, grabbing his last remaining healing potion, gulping it down as fast as he could, the chill of it burning his throat as he felt the pain and itching of his body fixing itself far more rapidly than it was used to, the agony in his lungs flaring up angrily, before settling down and fading again.
  As he dragged himself to his feet, Rhuna thought he could hear the war cries of his ancestors, primal calls to battle, wondering if it was a sign that he'd be joining them shortly, his eyes widening as a great blue and black-feathered bird leapt from the ledge behind him, soaring over his head.  “Ancestors, guide me…” he muttered in amazement, until it landed in front of him, the rider upon the steed making him blink. His ancestors certainly weren't Pandaren!
  From behind him, the ground shook with the tremors of dozens of hooves as horses, dire wolves and even a mammoth leapt down from the ledge, each bearing a rider, be they human, orc or other, each wearing a silver-coloured tabard, revealing them as knights of the Argent Crusade.  Already badly damaged by the three Monks, the Frostwyrm suddenly found itself surrounded by dozens of fresh combatants, many of them Paladins, wielding the holy powers of the Light.  It turned to flee, roaring savagely, but already spells were being cast, slowing it down, burning it with holy flames, giant hammers of glowing golden light raining down onto the undead nightmare, crushing it without a shred of mercy.
  Rhuna sunk down to his knees, his body cold and weak, the adrenaline surge of battle wearing off, leaving him feeling drained, his large body starting to shudder as he heard the cheers of the Argent Crusade around him, looking up to the leather-clad Pandaren approaching him. “Wh-why…?”
  “Because they're the Argent Crusade. Killing the Scourge is what they do, of course.” The Pandaren woman smiled kindly, moving with an easy, practiced gait through the snow, her hands moving through the air, weaving intricate patterns that looked familiar to Rhuna, mist rising from the snow and ice around him, wrapping around his body and warming him gradually as it started to glow with a noticeable mint green light. “Now, just relax, Tauren. Let me heal your body.”
  Already, Rhuna felt stronger as the soothing mist eased the pain from his body, encouraging his body to heal rapidly in a much gentler way than the healing potion did. He groaned, picking himself up, awed by the Pandaren’s power. “You're… a Mistweaver, aren't you? Why… WHY WEREN'T YOU HERE TWO MINUTES AGO?! Where were you when Heyo needed you? When FISTSONG needed you!” The strong Tauren bull couldn't stop himself, all composure lost as grief and rage consumed him.
  Looking up at the much larger Tauren male, seeing a pain on his features that came not from injuries of the body, but of the heart, the Pandaren flinched a little, then sighed softly.  “We were on patrol when we heard your battle.  We got here as fast as we could, and I am sorry we could not get here any sooner, but have hope, brave soul for you yet live.”  She turned to one of the knights, a dwarf in heavy silver-coloured plate armour.  “Captain Goldbeak, search for this brave Tauren’s friends.  If they still breathe, surely they can yet be saved, by the Light!”
  “Aye, Champ’n Snuckle, that they can, and save them we will.  We already found a Tauren lass by th’ beastie, and she’s been ground to hamburger, through an’ through.  It’s a mir’cle that the cow draws breath at all, ye ken?”. The dwarf nodded sagely, though Rhuna had to take a moment to decipher the meaning of his words through the thick Dwarven accent, the much shorter male sounding like he was talking through a mouthful of stones to him.
  “Fistsong’s… alive?” For a moment, Rhuna allowed himself the luxury of hope. “There’s… another. A Pandaren woman!” He pointed to where he'd left Heyo, feeling a little guilty for leaving her alone and defenseless. “She took a blow to the head, but I think she was OK…”
  “Aye, I've taken th’ odd crack to tha noggin’ a wee fair times, but I reck’n I turn’d oot well.” Captain Goldbeak grinned, before calling out “Squires, ta me!” and jogging off towards Heyo’s resting place as Rhuna could only watch, unable to help himself from finding the stubby gait amusing.
  Slowly, the Pandaren gently wrapped one hand around Rhuna’s, starting to guide him towards the downed remnants of the Frostwyrm, patting him tenderly. “Come on, let us see to your friend, Fistsong. It's obvious that you care about her very much. I'm Snuckle, by the way, in the service of Yu’lon.”
  “Rhuna… You… You can save her, can't you? Please… Please save Fistsong's life.” The Tauren practically begged, realizing that Fistsong must have faced similar emotions in losing her husband. He couldn't begin to understand how she'd survived so long with her loss, but he was beginning to understand why she drank so much.
  Reaching the site where both the Frostwyrm and Fistsong fell, neither Rhuna nor Snuckle looked too closely at Fistsong's crushed frame, Rhuna letting out a pained sob, while Snuckle had to fight down the rising nauseated feeling in her stomach. Looking away, she knelt down by the Tauren, outstretching her hands, and channeling her gentlest healing spells. “This will take time. The shock of too much healing energy at once could kill her. Instead, I'll have to encourage her spirit to stay while her body does the hard work.” Snuckle looked up to Rhuna. “It's too dangerous to move her somewhere safe.”
  Rhuna hesitated, before slowly nodding. “Then, with your permission, I would like to make this place somewhere safe where you can work. Just tell me what you need.”

  An hour later, Rhuna stood at the edge of the new encampment, a strong, frigid wind tossing his mane around as he tightly gripped Fistsong's halberd to remind him what he was fighting for, holding his hand out to the squire bringing him a new helm to replace his old one, broken in the battle. His armour had been haphazardly patched up in the short time, but he was confident that it would provide enough protection for the work ahead. He didn't want to leave Fistsong behind, even in the respectful care of the Argent Crusade and Snuckle, but someone had to go out and do the hard job, and it helped that he wouldn't be alone.
  “So… we're really doing this then?” Heyo stepped up to stand beside Rhuna, a little wobbly on her feet, but otherwise recovered from having woken up and being quickly filled in on the situation, getting a lumber axe in her paws. “We're getting to do labour fit for a peon while Fistsong fights for her life? Hardly heroic work…”
  Despite his concern and fears Rhuna couldn't help allowing himself a slight smile as Heyo did her best to introduce a little levity to the situation. “We need wood to reinforce the camp before nightfall, and that's hardly work fit for a knight.”
  “But it's fine for a couple of Monks?” Heyo smirked playfully. “Many were the years that I trained and meditated, looking for the perfect tree to slaughter….”
  “Hush, love….” Rhuna reached out slowly, stroking the excitable pandaren’s head gently, sighing a little. “This is to keep Fistsong safe, when the knights move on, and it's just you and me protecting her… for a change.”
  Heyo went uncharacteristically serious, pushing her head up into her male lover’s large, strong hand. “Spirits know that she’s protected me enough times. So… how much wood do we need?” She leaned into Rhuna, pushing her head against his side.