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The time was dire, we were held back behind the walls of the keep, hearing our last rights, from our priest. She spoke of hope, and the final journey we would make to the next life. Her voice was soft and comforting, like a lullaby. Her night elf eyes glowed bright yellow in the shadows of the night, our armor only glistened in the light of the torches. The poundings upon the wall were becoming more violent, this would mean that the hordes artillery had closed its distance.
However, my attention was held else were. My focus was being held by the raging battle outside, and the sword and sharpening stone I had in hand. I was very proud of my blade. It was a gift from a fellow warrior who had fallen in a previous battle. He had saved my life almost as many times as I had saved his, with this very blade. I eyed the darnassian crafted sword with a revered honor. “warrior.” My thoughts were interrupted; I turned my attention to a footman, clad in the tabard of the alliance. “Yes?” I answered hastily. “The front line has been breeched, take your party, and rejoin the front, your time for rest has come to an end.” I looked to the priest and nodded, in response she uttered a short prayer and raised her hand above her head. Suddenly I felt much of the vigor I had lost defending the keep, restored to me. My company arose and unsheathed there individual weapons, they were fully aware of what was to come.