Siege of Darkshire - Spearhead [PvP - Great]

[Illidan Stormrage]

The layer of dead bodies and mud bobbed up and down in Illidan's sight. Many of the corpses wore armour or leather, their pink skin dappled with blood, their glassy eyes staring into the great beyond. Lying criss-crossed in the makeshift graveyard were decapitated demons, werewolves peppered with crimson slashes, and the decomposing undead that returned to their lifelessness. The rain fell on humans and monsters alike.
 
Carnage on this scale paled in comparison to the past wars he'd been a part of, but it still wounded him to see such death for little gain.
 
"Regis," Illidan croaked. "The battle ... how goes it?"
 
The necromancer navigated the corpse laden field by Clawfang's side, his countenance flat and expressionless. "The battle is lost, my lord. Your other officers have been slain, and while you were victorious in your fight, you are in no condition to continue. Our forces have made great strides in the fight, but there are simply too many defenders. We've cut down two for every one we've lost, and they still have the numerical superiority. We will all be routed or exterminated if we do not fall back."
 
Illidan groaned as one of his gashes stung particularly strongly. "I see. It was an outcome ... I was prepared for." And partially counting on. "Clawfang, Regis, sound the retreat. Have all remaining forces healthy enough return to Poenari Castle. And Regis ... get Archimonde. You know what to do."
 
"At once, Lord Illidan."
 
Illidan grimaced at the fading settlement from Clawfang's back, its walls in ruins, its people struggling desperately for survival. Would he ever see the end of all of this death and destruction?
 
There must always be ... great sacrifices ...
 

------------------------------------------------------------

 
The old man that smelled so good was coming! I could smell him, so thick and heady! There must've been a lot of magic in his body, oh yes! My gnashers have been gnawing on the bars of the cage he put me in, but all I could taste was wood and splinters. My nose was too long to bite them with my proper mouth. I don't know why I had to wait. I couldn't stop drooling at all the tasty magic I could sense! It's wasn't far away, but I couldn't get to it. Why did Master make me wait?
 
Oh! There! The old man! I could see him through the bars!
 
"There you are," the old man said. Oh, just to bite him once and drink! But Master said I couldn't. I don't want to upset Master. "Lord Illidan has permitted you to feast, little one."
 
I growled excitedly. Yes! I get to feed!
 
"But," the old man said, sharp enough to stop my happy shaking, "you are only allowed to consume the strongest source of magic on the battlefield other than myself and Lord Illidan. Do you know who that is?"
 
I tilted my head, sniffing. There was a lot of different scents mingling. It was hard to tell one stream from another. I sniffed harder, but I couldn't work out which creature Master would let me feast on.
 
The old man sighed. He did that a lot. "Look, I'll mark it for you. Even a stupid demon dog like you should be able to feel this."
 
He waved his hands about, and instantly I knew where the most powerful creature was! I barely had to sniff and it wafted in my nose, blotting out all the rest of the sorcerers and warlocks on the battlefield. Oh wow, it was a big one too! I jostled against the bars of my cage, flailing my gnashers about.
 
"Good," the old man said. "Now, go get it!"
 
The door swung open and I exploded from my prison. Little drops of water pelted my hide, but I didn't care. My feet squelched in the mud, and I fell on my snout a few times, but I didn't care. I could smell it! It smelled so good, so rich, full of dark magic! And Master said I could have it! All mine!
 
I smelled a few ghosts floating above me, but they were crumbs compared to the glorious meal awaiting me. Then I saw him. It was that other old man from the castle, the one carrying a glowing stick. My nose told me he was responsible for making all the ghosts. I bounded up to him, slobber spilling from my mouth. The ghosts didn't seem to notice me. All mine!
 
The other old man heard me coming I think, because he turned around to look at me. He wasn't looking so good, like he was about to keel over. The glowing stick must have been holding him up. Maybe all the magic was too heavy for him? Silly man, magic is never heavy  for me!
 
"You ... " he said. "You're ... Illidan's pet. Where have you been all this time? You could've been out here, killing the townspeople! That blasted idiot better have a good excuse for hiding you away!"
 
I barked happily at him. Sometimes I wished I could talk like all of them. It would make some things easier. Like right now! I wanted to tell him how yummy he smelled! But I couldn't, so I didn't.
 
Instead, I leapt onto him, pinning him to the mud. He tried to say something, but mud got in his mouth and he couldn't spit it out. I couldn't take it any longer! My gnashers chomped onto his neck and his body went stiff, like all the other meals I've eaten. He made a funny groaning sound, and I started drinking.
 
Oh! The flavour! The rich, dense consistency! How thick and tasty his magic was! I slurped and slurped, and for a while I thought he'd never run out of magic! It was the best feast I'd ever had! I must remember to thank Master!

Soon there was no taste left. My gnashers let go of his neck, spitting out loose bits of flavourless flesh. I took another whiff and noticed all the ghosts were gone. Oh well. I was very full anyway.
 
Lots of Master's army was running the other way, back to that spooky castle. Oh well. Might as well go home! What a day!