The sun slowly sank behind the small mountains of Tirisfal, throwing a large shadow from the Monastery. Along the worn path from the Monastery gates, a young man walked. He was a large, well built man, clad in armor that glimmered in the remaining rays of light from the sun. A worn sword hung from his belt, crashing into his armor, sending a feint ring out with each step he took. He paused for a moment to take in the last view of the sun as it set over the hills. This was his favorite time of day, the beauty of the sunset was the only thing he enjoyed of working the late night guard shift outside. He stood in silence, drinking in the sight he had come so much to enjoy, his entire focus on its beauty. Behind him a large cat figure appeared from the shadows. Its claws glistened in the light for only a moment before delving deep into the guards body. A large spray of blood shot forth from the front of the guard as the claws exited, tearing the man into two. The guard did not make a sound, though his armor rang out one last time on his sword as they crashed to the ground together.
For a moment the cat paused. The cat leaned back, standing up on two legs. Its body began to stretch, first longer, then wider. The thick fur that once covered its body receded, showing a soft white under. The horns on the cats head retracted, turning instead to a small tuft of hair. Its face stretched out no longer looking cat like, but Tauren instead. The tauren stretched a little, having always been slightly cramped after possessing the spirit of the cat.
She then stared down at the man who was just slain. He was but one of many who would fall on this night. The High Inquisitor of The Grim had ordered the complete destruction of the Monastery and all who inhabit it. A message was to be sent to the Scarlet Crusade. A Grim message of the death and destruction they faced for their actions. There was a continued war and for every Scarlet killed, they would reinforce their stronghold with two more. Today they would all be destroyed. The halls of the Monastery would be drowned in the blood of the defiant. And while they may follow the rules and ideals of the Scarlet Crusade, their numbers would fear the Grim more than they loved the Crusade.
The tauren glanced around for any witnesses to this slaying, and seeing none, transformed back into the cat. Without sound she slunk back into the darkness, becoming nothing more than a moving shadow. The shadow moved slow and silently towards the entrance arch of the Monastery. The sun finally disappeared over the land entirely. The last sunset any who lived in the Monastery would ever see….
….
Screams of horror echoed through the long halls. A man in armor, draped with a white tabard highlighted in red trim, turns around the corner, a look of panic on his face. His arm crossed under his stomach, blood pouring from under. He takes only another step before falling to the ground lifeless. The hall behind him is littered with bodies, all donning the same white and red tabard. Each body covered in giant claw and bite marks as though attacked by a savage beast. Through the door lays a small garden area, often used by archers to hone in their bows. In the center of this garden the cat stands. Her fur matted and covered in blood. Blood covering her paws as well as her mouth. At her feet lays several other bodies. She moves quickly, her body blurry from such fast movements, darting from one side of the garden to the other, tearing into the flesh of all who stand before her. This was the rumored entrance to where the crusade’s beast master lived. The man who trained all the hounds used by the crusade in their ventures. Many a horde had faced the horror of the dogs this man trained. Today his end shall be brought to him not by a hound, but by a cat.
Into the shadows she stepped again, her form all but fading from view. Tightly to the wall the cat prowled into the large chamber. The scent of dog was almost over powering. On the far side of the room, Houndmaster Loksey stood. Three hounds lashed to his hands. His commands echoed out as the dogs obeyed. “Heel” he commanded, the dogs quickly spinning to his side. They where so intent on listening to their master they did not notice the shadowy cat prowling up behind them. “Sit” shouted Loksey, the dogs immediately sitting, faithfully obeying their master. “Stan…” his word cut short by razor claws being drawn across his neck. He pointlessly tried to gasp for air, his hand dropping the leashes, to instead clutch the gaping wound in his neck. The three hounds sat idle. Waiting for their masters call that would never come. For a moment the cat thought of leaving the dogs alive, as they would not be a problem anymore without the cruelty taught by their master. But that sentiment was short lived. They were part of the crusade and the Inquisitor’s orders were clear. All must perish, man and beast. Her eyes flashed with rage and yelping could be heard ringing through the small garden outside.
…
Arcanist Doan paced angrily back and forth in his study. He had been spending the day trying to study his ancient arts, however, outside his doors he heard what he assumed to be a training exercise. Clashing of armor rang out, the sounds of breaking glass and screams of battle where muffled by the large wooden door. “Why today of all days do they need to practice an assault on the guards” he muttered to himself. “The security around here is just fine, there is no need for such exercises. I will write at once and have these pointless exercises stopped.” He sat down at a small wooden table and began to scrawl a note. Sudden he realized there was silence. No more screams could be heard. No shouts or warnings. Finally the exercise was over and he could get back to work. Leaving his unfinished note on the desk, he stood, walking back to the bookcase lining the wall. He thumbed through a large book with a purple and black cover. A booming knock at the door came, jolting him so much he dropped the book to the floor. “Will these disturbances never end?” he shouted in anger. Another booming knock echoed in his chamber. Filled with rage he walked over to the door, throwing it open with a shout “Who dares disturb….” His tongue falls silent as he stares into the glowing red eyes of the large bear before him. Behind the bear the floors are covered in body parts and blood. For a moment he is stunned at the gore before him.
Gaining his senses again and realizing what is before him, he jumps back, his hands weaving spells. Explosions of light and energy bounce off the bears body, unable to penetrate her thick hide. She walks steadily towards him. Panicking, he continues to cast spell after spell at her, none of which falter her steady path. He retreats more, his back now against the wall, trying in desperation, casting every spell he can think of at her. Nothing works. She once again stands face to face with him. Again he stares into her red eyes. His heart quickens. He always knew the life of the crusade could eventually lead to his death, he just did not expect it to be now and certainly not at the hands of an exceptionally large bear. His eyes fall to the floor. He knows there is nothing left he can do but accept his fate. “You may kill me, but you will never take down the crusade” he defiantly spits at the bear. What almost looks like a smile crosses the bears mouth, her fangs, drip with the blood of the soldiers and guards from outside. In one smooth movement her jaw opens and then bites down on his neck, severing his head from his shoulders.
Just like the cat, the bear stands back on two legs, this time shrinking into the same Tauren. She kneels down before Doan, pulling the robes from his fallen body and picking his wand up from the ground. These would certainly be good gifts for the Inquisitor as proof of her will carried out. She shoved them into her pack and with a groan shrunk further, back into the cat, delving into the shadows once again.
...
Herod kneeled silently in the center of his training room. He had heard whispers of the death and destruction of Arcanist Doan at the claws of some druid. Surely if this druid was indeed set on destroying the crusade they would be coming for him as well. His sharpened axe lay on the floor before him. “We have killed many together. We shall not lay down for some lowly druid” he spoke to his axe. While Doan was powerful in the arts of magic, only a true warrior would be able to take down this force send by the Grim. In his head he reviewed his art of battle, mentally preparing for the fight he knew inevitably lay again.
…
The door to the training room opened slowly. A tall, slender white tauren casually walked through the door, peering down at Herod below, kneeling over his axe. “Your time has come Herod for you to…” “Silence druid” interrupted Herod. “Save your heavy handed words, you are not here to speak, you are here to fight. And I am more than happy to oblige” he said, grabbing his axe and running up the steps towards the tauren. In a flash the tauren had returned to the spirit of the cat. Her claws swiping Herod across the chest. The axe flashed as it swung by, barely missing the neck of the cat. Lightning fast, the cat dodged another swing, striking Herod again, this time in the back, blood pouring from the gaping wounds on both sides of him, he fell to a knee. “You are true masterful in the arts. But even the strongest rock can be broken by enough crashing waves. Students to my aid!” he shouted, falling over no longer breathing.
The small hall echoed with the sound of marching metal. The druid quickly bound down the steps into the large circle below. Removing herself from the cat spirit she conjured forth the winds and lightning of the hurricane. Lighting crashed down upon the students of war as they entered the room. One after another, like the crashing wave Herod has so eloquently used, they walked into their death. The halls fell silent again. The druid returned to Herod, removing his shoulder guards. Another fine prize for the Inquisitor’s case.
…
The crack of whips and scent of burnt flesh fills the hall. Chained to a table is a body, so beaten and battered it is almost unrecognizable. Above the body stands the crusades Interrogator. His brandishes a hot metal poker, which is drawls along the flesh of the body tied to the table. The body screams out in pain as a faint cloud of smoke rises. “Tell me what you know of this druid who has slain Herod and Doan” he hisses at the body. “I know you know something, tell me and I shall end your pain”. The body writhes in pain one last time then falls silent and still. “Bring me another body, this one is of no more use to me” shouts the interrogator over his shoulder. No answer comes. “I said bring me another body!” he says again his voice rising with anger. He turns around from his work to find his assistant who would surely need to pay for his poor efforts. Instead of his assistant he finds himself looking into the glowing red eyes of a large bear behind him. With a quick jerk he stabs the poker into the side of the bear, the point not able to penetrate the thick hide. The bear lazily swings her paw, throwing the Interrogator across the room, crashing into a rack of torture devices hanging there. The bear ambles over, looking down at the shaken man. Before the man can even say a word she draws her giant paw into the air, bringing it crashing down onto the skull of the Interrogator. He shall bring no more pain, nor ask no more questions.
Into the graveyard she travels. The spirits of old crusaders lay here in unrest. Evil magic having brought them back to forms of the unliving. While they where not active members of the crusade, the Inquisitor asked that the entire Monastery be destroyed and just because they where dead once already doesn’t mean they don’t deserve to be destroyed again.
Without the flesh to rip through the bear devoured the bones of the walking dead. Hardly even a fight. Through the grave yard and into the tombs she traversed, destroying everything in sight, piles of bones and dust in her wake. To the depths of the crypts she continued. Coming upon the cause of this undead destruction, the skeleton of Bloodmage Thalnos. He, like Doan, attempted to conjure spells and destroy the druid, but her hide was too thick to allow spells to penetrate. Without even flesh to protect him, the swing of her great paw completely destroyed the bones of this mage, finally bringing the final sleep to the fallen Bloodmage Thalnos. As his bones fell to dust, a magical orb fell from his hand, emitting a low blue glow. The bear knelt before the orb, her paw turning into the tauren hand, she picked up the orb, put it in her pack and began her accent from the crypts. Her mission was now almost complete. Only one more area of the Monastery remained to be cleansed, and the time of the cleansing was upon them.
…
The doors of the cathedral burst open. A bloody and broken body having been thrown through them. The body bounced across the floor. In high alert dozens of the cathedral patrons rushed the doors. With giant swipes of her paws, the cathedral patrons where cut to pieces. Severed limbs fell to the ground, blood poured like water down the steps. Her mission was almost over, the Inquisitor would surely be pleased. The idea of this fanned the rage in her. She stepped into the cathedral and over the bodies she had thrown there. At her presence the rest of the guardians of the place attacked. Spear and shield, sword and magic swirled through the air. None of them even close to harming her. One by one they fell to her claws.
Within minutes everyone was slain, sans one small warrior who stood between her and Commander Mograine. The warrior charged at her, sword drawn. He stood no chance. Her mighty paw smacking his arm, tearing the flesh from the bone, the sword crashing to the ground. She swung again, this time swiping his leg, knocking him to the ground, the wound on his leg making him unable to move. She bore down upon him, her fangs inches from his face. His death in her eyes. She paused for a long moment, then turned towards Mograine instead. With a dash she ran into him, knocking him back against the wall. Tearing at his flesh with her claws and teeth. He could hardly fight back before he had succumbed to his wounds. He fell silently to the floor.
At once the chamber doors behind the alter burst open. High Inquisitor Whitemane immerged from the doors. Without hesitation she attacked the bear whom had slain her champion. The fight was short lived as the Whitemane stood no chance against the blood crazed beast set upon her. The bears large claws tore her skin apart, her crimson life pouring from her. In a moment of pure desperation she cast a sleep spell on the bear, the first and only spell powerful enough to partially penetrate her hide. The bear fell back, groggy from the spell. Whitemane stood tall, attempting to bring life back to her fallen champion, but her wounds where too great. Before she was able to complete her spell she fell.
The bear once again leaned back, releasing the spirit of the bear and becoming a tauren once more. She picked up the mace of Whitemane from the floor. The true High Inquisitor, the one of The Grim, would surely enjoy this trinket of the one claiming to be a high inquisitor herself. She then took the gloves from Mograine, placing them both in her pack.
Her attention then focused back on the young warrior writhing in pain in the corner. She walked over and knelt beside him. She was covered from horn to hoof in blood, bits of flesh hanging from her horns and hands.
Having spent the majority of her childhood on the docks and ships of Booty Bay she could speak human with very little accent. “Young one. Today has been an example for your people. Take this message back to them. You will abide by the rules and laws of The Grim, or you shall all be destroyed. I have slain your entire Monastery. I have laid waste to all your champions and sorcerers. You have all brought this upon yourself. You have been spared for no other purpose than to deliver this message. If you do not abide, I shall reign the same terror upon the remaining stronghold of the crusade until there is nothing left of you but memories in the annals of history. Now be gone with you, I must return these gifts of your fallen to my Inquisitor.”
With that the tauren stood. Walking calmly and quietly out of the cathedral, she walked into the beautiful fountain before her, washing the blood and gore from her, turning the crystal waters of the fountain and waterfall to a crimson red. Once clean, she journey out the door. She didn’t want to keep the inquisitor waiting any further.