Saturday, November 5, 2011

Molten Front Diary 01


Two night elves, standing on a small rise, looking over a battlefield. It is littered with corpses, most of them night elves and tauren, many still smoking. A wrecked glaive thrower smolders next to the carcass of a gutted firebird. The land is eerily still and silent.

She is wearing heavy plate armor. He is wearing ... feathers.

General Moonfall: Well, Arch-Druid, it's as bad as the reports indicated. 

Malfurion: Yes, this is a disaster. I thought we would be able to open a portal into their rear and catch them by surprise. But they knew. Somehow, they knew we were coming.

General Moonfall: My sentinels are experienced at catching poachers, at hit-and-run border raids. Not protracted battles. And your druids .... well, no offense, but most of them have been asleep for thousands of years. Against Staghelm's forces, they're completely outmatched. Over one thousand dead....

Malfurion (letting out a heavy sigh): I know. But we have no choice other than to continue. We have no choice. We must push the enemy back into the Firelands, and then hold the line, if the Avengers are to have any chance against Ragnaros.

General Moonfall: What we really need is... someone tough enough to really pull this outfit together.

Malfurion: Ratshag?

General Moonfall: Possibly.

Malfurion: Elune help us!

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