Tyrandes Trials (Sausage-sama X Kaybee)

[Saint Celestine]

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It was raining again over the city of Gilneas, as a few cries of battle could be heard from the outskirts of the city, remnants of forsaken forces finally driven out by the Worgen and Alliance as they took back the city under the leadership of Glenn Greymane and his new Alliance friends. The city itself was half in ruins still smouldering, but it was theirs once again even if the Alliance insisted on stationing a battalion here to keep it secure for the foreseeable future. “We did it boys drove that scum right out” an Alliance soldier commented as he walked with two Gilneans both in their Worgen form towering over him, standing at roughly 6’5 they could have been much taller if they stood up straight he thought. “Anyway I have to report back to my commander, it was a honour fighting with you both” the soldier said aloud saluting before marching off, as both of the Worgen looked at each with a puzzled look.

“I like him he talks a lot but he helped take back our home from that unnatural filth” the Worgen named Ulfur said to his brother Osion, they had both been brothers when they were still human until they had both been bitten, and the Worgen curse only strengthened their blood ties. As they walked back through the city, they came across the old park where the building for the grounds keeper was lit, suspicious that some forsaken might be hiding out they went into to investigate. Approaching carefully they couldn't see through the stained glass windows of the groundskeepers cottage, opting instead to both smash through the frail wooden door at the same time.

 

[Kaybee]

Tyrande had been glad just to get away from the sentinels assigned to her guard for a bit, taking the time alone to meditate somewhere quiet and out of the way. The battle for Gilneas once the wall had come down had -between the seeming curse afflicting the residents and the undead horde attacking from the sea- been furiously fought and while her sentinels had arrived late upon hearing of the magical plague afflicting most of the human residents, they had not been spared any significant part of the combat.

The real work however came after that, when the fighting was done. With many of the Worgen feral and their status in the Alliance tenuously maintained only by mutual antagonism on the part of the undead, she had needed to remain to negotiate. Since their curse was linked to the moon the Night Elves might be able to help them integrate as the moon was their goddess' domain.

For the moment however, Tyrande had finally managed to get away from it all, and now had just settled herself cross-legged in this shack, trying to take a moment to reflect and pray for guidance from Elune when the door she'd closed not two minutes ago burst inwards in a shower of splinters. Reflexively she grabbed her bow, expecting an assassination attempt, only to realize that she was not looking at undead but rather at worgen, too deep in the city for them to be feral. "Halt! Both of you!" She took quick steps backwards, gaining what little distance she could in an attempt to give herself room to avoid a lunge but while she nocked an arrow, she did not draw. This had to be some sort of misunderstanding!

 

[Saint Celestine]

Both brothers smashed through the door splintering it to pieces as their eyes scanned the room for occupants, seeing a single tall nightelf who spoke out loudly as they rushed into the room. As she nocked an arrow Ulfur looked at Osion, and Osion looked at him as they both shrugged. “Stop we thought there was undead scum hiding around here” Ulfur said being the more level headed of the two, if that could even be said for the two worgens. “Don’t worry pretty nightelf we won’t attack you” Osion growled grinning, as he grabbed both his longswords resting in sheaths either side of his large body and unhooked the belt placing the swords on the floor.

“Why are you even here anyway? All the Alliance troops go back to the camp where they live. Its only worgen or sneaky undead still around this area” Ulfur said curious as this part of the city was badly damaged, almost uninhabitable so had been quarantined off till some troops could perform a search and destroy for any dangerous magicks or undead still lurking about in the ruins, and make it habitable again for the Gilneans.

While Ulfur spoke Osion moved closer going past Tyrande herself, to go through the small chest of her things. He began to throw bits of her battle armour out of the chest, with arrows and vials of various poisons. “Have you got anything tasty in here?” he asked, as Ulfur sighed a large breath of condensation appearing in front of his mouth as the cold air had rushed into the small shack. “Osion leave the ladies things alone” he said trying to chastise his brother.