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| Details |
| Author: | Vond |
| Summary: | Back from the front line, Nunuzac witnesses the aftermath of the Wrathgate assault. |
| Rating: | T for Teen |
Nunuzac witnessed events from uphill at Fordragon Hold. Like many draenei, she is old enough to have seen many sights, but she is not hardened to devastation of so many sapient beings by weapons she is not so familiar with.
Far uphill from the scene of the devastation, parts of Fordragon Hold remained untouched by plague and fire, primarily on account of the fine marksmanship of those riflemen and Sentinels posted at the guard towers that loom over each narrow ascent, ready to pick off undead that stray too far from the Alliance's idea of the field to maintain.
Unfortunately, that hardfought bottleneck between both factions' forward bases had taken their infantries down with the Scourge they were pressing. The chill horror of the brief glimpse of their Prince had passed with his retreat, leaving behind a smoldering bowl of dragonfire, flourishing plantlife paradoxically spiraling counter to the purls of rippling smoke, all-consuming.
Like many other draenei, Nunuzac was no stranger to witnessing eruptions of violence and upheaval in the course of a long life as fugitive across the stars, her people both a progenitor of a portion of hatred's host as well as their target. Nonetheless, here rose the ashes of countless sapient beings extinguished before their time. Their suffering has ceased, but so too had their potential. Many would have been destined for but a brief lifespan, hardly a handful of footsteps to call their own, but even that had been stolen, none left to walk a road that might have crossed hers.
Another world, another set of peoples in the middle of a course of consuming hardships. Would there be any left at the end of this, where the Prophet had bid them to take their stand? So many had there been, before. She thought of them as scintillant streaks of hope and struggle running through time like veins of gold, indelible but unreachable, flecks and lines merging into a broad river of brilliance stretching behind her, less defined, less individual. So many…
Below the distant Dragonqueen's enormous silhouette, between her claws, a spray of straining blossoms scattered the shadows with flecks of arresting carmine. Like the red shrine, she thought, chewing over the previous shock of "new life" being granted those dragons in the embrace of the earth, now coming to claim the army of her allies.
Nunuzac tore her attention from the eyecatching spot of color to look at a nearby night elf archer she had struck up light company with, the great pained lamps of her eyes rimmed with a brighter shade of blue and pooling thin trails of water.
"I hope I will have remember of some of them," she told her companion, hoping the fellow long-lived creature might take her meaning, then set to descend the tower on clicking hooves, making her way toward the remaining tents to receive anything that might accomplish flight from the fire.