Roaring waves surround the Draenai, the lands of Asuna scream with spirits, an entire kingdom, cursed to live in undeath forever. The spirits wailing and screaming are unending, but one area seems to be louder, a Legion camp drawing the souls of the damned in with false promises of salvation. Cosman steps down from his the stone he meditated upon, the waters rising to keep him on solid footing as he moved around the back of the camp from the sea. He moves silently, sneaking around to a group of gathered Eredar, his heart sinking as he views how his people had fallen, he swallows his pain and draws his axe. The jewels within the artifact light up slowly, lighting pours from it forming a mirrored image of itself within his opposing hand. He takes a deep breath, turning to charge into the camp, letting out a war cry as he calls the storm down upon them!

The first of the fel tainted Eredar turn, hearing his cry and grinning gleefully as they open their palms to send out blistering fel fire! He ducks low, dragging his blade to the stones below and flinging them forward launching a spike through the head of a female caster, the others falling back as they call for the defenders, who charge his position, heavy weapon drawn. He growls, leaping back into the group of casters, his axes, crackling with power tear through another caster, her screams echo through the cove. Turning to the first fighter, he uses the brutes momentum to spin to the side, hooking his axes into his back, sending a powerful blast into his body, frying him from within. As he ripped his weapons free a blast of fel flames strikes his shoulder, forcing him to slide back cursing in his native tongue  before flicking his hand out, his lightning axe shifting into a sharp bolt, striking through the chest of the caster who injured him! 

 Body after body, he slew them, panting from his wounds, a slash to the side and stab wound to his chest, he sends a bolt to the sky to signal his comrade to his location. He searches the camps, looking over their notes and plans. As he reads, the shadows shift, he turns sharply, but nothing, he shakes his head and chalks it up to his adrenaline from the pain and battle, looking though the tome he notices familiar names, including one he did not expect. As he stands, taken aback from the revelation he feels it, a sharp blade against his face! In an instant  his sight is gone, only red can he see as the blood enters his eyes, he flails around before a powerful kick is delivered to his gullet, sending him back on the ground, reopening his wounds. 

As he looks around pulling the stones around him to form a shield, he hears a chilling sound, a soft laughter, his ears new this pitch, the jiggle in her voice. He looks towards it, barely able to see through the red as the outline of the female slinks away, his Comrade, Zoladaan, fellow Auchenai and Paladin, comes to his defense, holding him up as the odd talking Witch begins to look him over. Only one thing swirled in his mind, not is bleeding, not his blinded eyes, not his friends questions. 

“Sister?”

Author Scond
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