Adult-FanFiction.org : Games

A Curse Upon You	By : Omgitsgary Category: +S through Z > World of Warcraft Views: 6292 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Warcraft, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-What A Horrible Night For A Curse
- 1
(A/N) This chapter just sets the scene. There wont be any smut in this part, so if you want to skip ahead, go to chapter 2.

************
The Priestess Elenar Moonglow stood in the pouring rain among the Night Elf Sentinels, trying in vain to use a large leaf to keep the torrent of water from soaking her Priestess' robes. It was no good. The wind blew the rain sideways in a chilling gale, soaking her pale white hair all the way down to the middle of her back. Her light purple skin rose in goosebumps in the cold. The ground was more water than dirt now, a slimy combination of loosely-packed grit mixed with the rain making a hopeless mire. The several dozen captive Horde warriors being led from the outskirts of the Barrens into Ashenvale struggled through the mud, cursing as they slipped and fell, fighting to stay on their exhausted feet after hours of forced marching through the tretcherous conditions.
A contingent of Huntresses patrolling the borders of Ashenvale had captured a Troll spy several days prior. After being harshly questioned by Lord Mistspear, the Troll had revealed that a group of fifty or so Horde soldiers would be attempting to make it to Splintertree Post in two days. After executing the spy, Mistspear ordered a large group of Sentinels to ambush the Horde war party several miles from Ashenvale's borders. Hidden by the downpour, the Horde had been caught completely by surprise and been soundly defeated, with nearly half of them falling in the first volley of arrows. The rest had quickly surrendered, had their hands bound, and been marched back north.
Elenar watched as the last of the Horde warriors was led into the trees before turning to the Sentinel beside her.
"What will be done with them? Will Mistspear have them questioned like the Troll?"
"Most likely." The Sentinel replied, nodding. "We havent taken this many captives at once in months. One of them is bound to know something of use. If not, we can still use them to exchange hostages."
Elenar nodded absently as the Sentinels around her began to form up and follow the Horde prisoners into the forest. She had been brought along on the ambush as a precautionary measure, in order to act as a battle healer in case the Horde had been ready for them to attack. Nevermind that she had never actually seen combat, and that she had only just been given her Priestess's staff a month prior. Mistspear had been insistant that his ambush have all it's bases covered, and as Elenar had been one of the only available Priestesses in the camp at the time, she had been dragged along almost without notice. Mistspear liked having things his way.
It hadn't been as bad as she'd feared, though. The attack was over so quickly that not a single one of the Sentinels had been wounded. Her healing powers had instead been spent on keeping a few of the wounded prisoners alive for their trip back to Ashenvale. Some had been too hurt to save. Despite the fact that they were the enemy, Elenar had felt a sense of sadness when the Blood Elf she had been trying to save had died while she was in the process of closing her wounds.
I hope I never get dragged along on a raid like that again. She thought. I became a Priestess to spread the teachings of Elune and to protect our land, not take part in a slaughter.
A half hour later, the column reached Mistspear's camp, a short way inside the border of Ashenvale. Many among the upper ranks of the Sentinels had called Mistspear foolish when he declared his intention to retake Ashenvale's southern border from the Horde, but none could argue with his results. In a mere three months, Mistspear had take fewer than a thousand soldiers and shoved the Horde line all the way back to the Barrens along the southern mountains of the forest.
The Horde still controlled all lands to the north and east of Splintertree, but Mistspear had promised that he would take even those lands from the Horde by the coming year. So far, no one had voiced any doubts. Though his tactics might be straightforward and his mannerism hard and sometimes even brutal, Mistspear had done what no other Night Elf had managed in the many years since the Horde's initial invasion.
The camp itself was a large group of leaf-tents surrounded by the standard fortification of a wall of brambles and thorns that moved aside to allow the Sentinels and their captives to pass before closing behind them. Such a thing was nearly impassable, thicker even than the jungles of Stranglethorn. Impossible for enemies to break in, impossible for prisoners to get out.

The Sentinel captain ordered all of the prisoners to form a line and get on their knees. Obediently, the mud-stained prisoners fell to their knees, the Sentinels at attention behind them, weapons in hand. Elenar stood some distance to the side out of the way. Some of the Orcs among the captives growled in anger at their predicamant, but made no move to resist.
The flap of a large leaf-tent was thrown open and Lord Mistspear strode out, the Sentinel captain behind him. He wore heavy plate armor adorned with leaves and branches for camoflage, with a pair of straightswords at his sides. He was not the type of commander to send his men into battle without him. Elenar knew that if it hadnt been for his trust in the Sentinel captain, he would have led the ambush himsef. Mistspear stopped in front of the captives and glared at them each in turn, his eyes hard. Most of them couldnt meet his gaze, though several glared back defiantly. His eyes lingered on them longer than the others.
Finally he said, "Who is your ranking officer?" There was no response apart from a few heads looking left and right among the prisoners. "Who is your commanding officer?" Mistspear repeated, louder this time. "Even you animals have a chain of command. Who is the pack leader of this group of hounds?"
"He's dead." said a voice to Elenar's left. An Undead at the far end of the line with filthy black hair and a black tattoo covering one side of his face had spoken. "Fell in the first volley, along with the second and third in command. I saw it. No one else here has authority to negotiate." Moonspear laughed as if that were the finest joke he'd heard in weeks.
"Negotiate? You seem to be under the impression that you're in a bargaining position, undead. I wanted to know who your ranking officer was so I could take the information I need from him, not so I could negotiate your release. As far as I'm concerned, you're all already dead. All that matters is how much you can tell me before I put you in the ground."
At this, several of the prisoners looked as if they might jump to their feet and attack him, but one of his hands rested knowingly on his sword, and he gave them a victorious smirk before continuing.
"Lets start with the one on the end, shall we? Grab that Troll and bring him with me. Lets see if he's ready to talk. Put the rest in the bramble cage" He turned and strode away. A pair of Sentinels grabbed the Troll at the far end of the line from the Undead who had spoken up and dragged him after Mistspear. The rest of the prisoners were forced to stand and brought to the side of the thicket around the camp, where thick vines covered in barbs rose from the ground, cutting off any hope of escape. The cage needed no guards, so the Sentinels dispersed throughout the camp once all prisoners were inside.
Elenar turned away, feeling sick. She knew what Mistspear did with Horde captives. He had declared that all Horde prisoners that were not of some strategic value were to be put to death after being wrung for information. Very few survived the interrogation. None survived the following executions. The woods surrounding the camp were full of mass graves.
"You. Girl." said a voice behind her. Elenar turned, surprised. The tattooed Undead was speaking to her, his eyes narrowed. She approached the bramble cage slowly, staying just out of reach. "Yes?" She said cautiously.
"This commander of yours. What is his name?" The undead asked. Elenar hesitated. There was no harm in telling him, she supposed. But was she allowed to be speaking to captives? Even if they were doomed? While she hesitated, she realized that the Undead wore robes similar to her own, but darker in color and more travel-worn. Was he a Priest as well?
"He... His name is Lord Mistspear. He leads this camp." she answered finally. The undead's lips peeled back in a ghastly grin, displaying his rotted teeth and gums. Elenar shuddered.
"So, I suppose those stories about him are true. Tell me girl, did he mean it? Are we already dead?"
"I- Well, he- He doesn't usually have so many prisoners, I suppose he might trade..." she trailed off. The undead gave a short bark of laughter and shook his head. "Dead, then. Light be damned. I knew coming on this idiotic raid was a bad idea." He started to turn away. "Wait!" Elenar blurted. He turned back, raising an eyebrow at her.
"Aren't you a Priest? You shouldnt be saying things like that." she said. Even as the words left her lips she cringed inwardly at how pathetic they sounded. The Undead gave her another horrible grin. "Priest? Afraid not, girl. I am a Warlock of the highest order. I have communed with beings that possess powers far beyond your imagination."
Elenar was stunned. She had heard stories of such mages before, dark wielders of demonic magic that had no conscience. They used the power of the Legion for their own personal gains. No Warlock was to be trusted. The Undead laughed again at her horrified expression.

"Why- why did you let yourself get captured? If you're so powerful, I mean." The Undead continued chuckling. He trailed off finally, then said "You dont strike me as someone with much worldly experience, girl. I'm guessing you've barely gone beyond the edges of this forest. Was that ambush your first taste of battle?" Elenar gave a jerky nod of her head.

"I saw you in the back of the line, ready to lend aid. I saw you trying to help save the wounded ones, the ones who wouldnt make it. You knew that we would be tortured and killed, and yet you tried to keep them alive for that. Why? Aren't you a Priest? You shouldn't be doing things like that."
Elenar tried to form a reply, but nothing came out. She was speechless. The Undead was right, she had saved the wounded from the mercy of death so Mistspear could have his way with them. She had known what their fate would be, and still she had done it.
The Undead continued, quietly. Elenar leaned closer to hear him. "You want to know why I didn't try to escape or fight back? Because I knew it was hopeless. Many Warlocks use the power of demons, or the power of unholy flames to destroy their enemies. But me...?"
His hands shot out through the bars, siezing her by the wrist. Elenar gasped. "I use curses." His hands glowed blue, and white-hot pain shot up her arm, she shrieked and stumbled backward. A black rune had appeared on her wrist. As she watched, it slowly faded away. "What- what did you do?" she said, terrified. "I merely returned the favor, girl." the Warlock said, grinning. "You saved us so that the remainder of our lives would be filled with horror. Now I've given you the same gift. That curse wont kill you, oh no. I learned it from an Eredar many years ago. It cannot be lifted, and will only fade upon your death."
"What have you done to me?!" Elenar screamed at him, tears springing to her eyes.

"I've cursed you with bad luck. No, that's not a strong enough term. I've cursed you with a life of suffering. No matter what happens, no matter what you do, things will always turn out badly for you from now on. Whatever can go wrong, will go wrong. Enjoy it, girl. It's only fair, after all."
A Sentinel ran up to her, his weapon drawn. "I heard a scream, what happened?" he demanded. "He- he- He did something, he grabbed my wrist, I don't-" Elenar babbled, tears running down her face. The Sentinel took her by the shoulders and led her away from the cage, the Warlock still laughing behind her.
************
"Impossible." Lore-Druid Hornbark declared. "There is no such thing as a curse that cannot be lifted. Magic may alter the natural course of the world, but even it has it's rules. If there was a curse upon you, my magic has removed it. You have nothing to fear. He was only trying to scare you."
Elenar sat at on a cot in the medic's tent. Lore-Druid Arbron Hornbark, the head battle-medic, had been examining her closely for the past hour, casting various spells over her and murmuring under his breath. She had told him everything the Warlock had said about the curse, including how it had been supposedly unbreakable. At that, Hornbark had scoffed derisively.
"No, my dear Elenar, you are one hundred percent safe." He concluded. "The Sentinels have seen to it that the Warlock has been put to the head of the line. Mistspear should be finishing with him even as we speak."
Elenar thanked him profusely and rose to leave the medic tent. She pushed open the flap and ran into an armored soldier coming inside. "Oh! I'm sorry, I didn't-" she broke off with a gasp. The soldier was Lord Mistspear. "Pardon, lady." he muttered, pushing past her. With a thrill of horror, she saw that he was clutching his wrist.
"Hornbark. The last prisoner slipped his bonds and performed some kind of magic before he was restrained. Said it was a curse of some kind. So far nothing has happened, but I need you to remove it, and quickly."
Hornbark's eyes shot to Elenar's before turning back to Mistspear and began casting a spell of cleansing. Faint ribbons of light surrounded Mistspear as the Druid's hands made motions in the air.
"This prisoner. What has become of him? Was he the Undead?"
"Yes." Mistspear replied curtly. "I cut his throat immediately afterwards, before he could try anything else."
"Good." Hornbark replied, stepping back. "Well, his last act was in vain. He tried the same thing on Priestess Elenar here, but both of you made it to me very quickly. You're clean."
Mistspear turned to Elenar. "Lady Elenar. I apologize for your ordeal. Rest assured, the prisoner has been dealt with. He will pose no more threat. Now, if you will excuse me, I have other prisoners to question." He strode past her back into the camp.
"I should go get some sleep." Elenar said to Hornbark. "Thank you again."
"It was my pleasure, my lady." said Hornbark with a bow. "Good night."
*************
Elenar awoke, bathed in sweat. Her hands shaking, she sat up from her cot in the small tent that she shared with two other Priestesses and swung her feet down onto the floor.
A nightmare. Only a nightmare. She thought. That Warlock must have scared me more than I thought.
She pulled her robe over her head and fastened her belt, then took a small locket from beneath the cot and hung it around her neck. Stepping outside into the night, she quietly made her way to the well at the center of the camp and drew up a bucket. She cupped the cold water in her hands and drank eagerly. The moon shone overhead, and she heard the faint laughter and rumble of conversation around nearby campfires as the Sentinels on watch told stories and laughed with one another. Leaning against the side of the well, Elenar dropped her head down to her chest and sighed.
Her dreams had been awful. They had followed one after another, images of horrors beyond description and beyond understanding, filled with blood and terror and bloodcurdling screams. The worst of it had been how she had felt as though she were unable to wake up or move during them.
It was just nerves. She told herself. After seeing that battle, and the scare the Undead gave me, of course I was going to have nightmares. I should have expected it.
She pulled the locket up by the chain around her neck and flipped it open. Inside was a finely-painted likeness of a handsome Night Elf, smiling at her. She couldn't help but smile back.
I havent seen Althir in so long... She thought. No personal messages are allowed to be sent from Mistspear's camp, otherwise I would write to him every day.
She closed her eyes again, letting the locket drop. She stood there for a time, eyes closed, remembering his laughter and his cheeky grin, how he had held her, how he had kissed her...
A deafening explosion knocked her to the ground. Stunned, she lay there for several seconds, ears ringing. She heard shouts and screams. She climbed to her feet shakily.
A fire raged on one side of the bramble wall. The flames ate through the branches and thorns like a sword through water, leaving a widening gap that dozens of Horde soldiers were flooding through. The few Sentinels that had recovered quickly enough had met the Horde just inside, but they were outnumbered and struggled to hold back the ever increasing Horde numbers.
Turning, Elenar ran back to her tent, where the other two Priestesses had already donned their robes and were rushing out to meet her.
"Elenar! What happened?" said Shadra, the taller of the two.
"The Horde- They've broken through the barricade, they're inside the camp-" gasped Elenar.
The second Priestess, Wythia, grabbed her and led them toward the breach, where the sounds of battle were growing louder. Faintly, she heard Mistspear bellowing orders.
"We have to help them." Wythia said firmly. "I know you dont have a lot of training, but there's a reason they call it a trial by fire." Elenar gave a giddy laugh of fear, her mind struggling to keep up with what was happening.
They rounded the corner of a tent to see the scene of a massacre. The Horde poured in a neverending stream through the still-widening breach, battering the beleaguered Night Elf line, which was beginning to be pushed further and further back as the defending Sentinels were overwhelmed. Elenar saw Mistspear in the middle of the line, roaring as he hacked left and right with his swords, cutting down a Horde soldier with each lightning-fast swing of his blades. But still the Horde came on, screaming for blood as the Night Elves gave ground.
Shadra and Wythia were already casting healing spells, murmuring as their hands glowing with light. Mistspear stood tall as their spells enveloped him, cursing the Horde and calling more of them forward. The Sentinels rallied around around Mistspear and charged forward, scattering the Horde before them.
Elenar joined the other two Priestesses, swirling orbs of light flying from her hands as she healed one defender after another, shielded one from a blow that would have killed him, poured healing light into a faltering defender with a dagger sticking out of his chest.
But it wasn't enough. There was simply too many to heal and too little time. Mistspear's charge faltered as his men fell around him, as his blows came slower and with less deadly force. Then the Horde ranks parted.
An enormous Orc strode forward, covered in spiked armor and wielding a colossal axe almost as large as Elenar. He pointed at Mistspear and made a beckoning motion, his challenge clear. The Horde parted between them, allowing their leader the honor of single combat, focusing instead on the Sentinels, who stil fought ferociously.
Mistspear sprinted at the Orc, whirling his swords in a dizzying display, striking at the Orc's head and neck, stabbing for his armpits and groin, where the armor was weaker. The Orc moved with surprising agility, clearly a veteran of many hard-fought battles. The two clashed against each other before springing away, rolling away from each other's attacks and dodging swings that would have instantly ended their opponent's struggle.
Elenar dragged her attention away from him and forced herself to keep focused on healing the remaining Sentinels. She felt the first warning signs of magical fatigue, her mana slowly being depleted through frantic, rapid healing.
"No!" She heard Shadra gasp. Mistspear had staggered and fallen to his knees, clutching his side, where the Horde had stabbed him with one of his own swords. The other sword lay on the ground nearby. Mistspear was defenseless. His eyes met the Orc's, and he took a deep breath.
"ALL SENTINELS, FALL BACK! FALL BACK TO ASTRANAAR! RETREAT! RE-" The Orc brought the axe down. Elenar screamed in horror as Mistspear's body toppled over.
She staggered backwards as Wythia dragged her away towards the far side of the camp, where the bramble wall had parted for them. Shadra was ahead of them, looking back to make sure they were following.
"Run! Run, hurry!" she yelled, then sprinted off into the woods. Elenar and Wythia ran after her, as Mistspear's camp burned behind them.
- 1
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

A Curse Upon You