Through the misty rain a lone raptor staggered around, the dampness glistening on it's scales. It's bridle dragged in the ground as it nudged at it's fallen master, but when the Troll did not move it raised it's head to the sky and screamed - a primal sound that echoed off the narrow walls of this valley. She watched it for a few moments before turning back to her companions inside the warm shelter of the mine.

"That was too close," Elyshia said as she spat the taste of blood out of her mouth. This cursed rain had soaked into her clothes and turned her hair into untidy straggles. Her robe sucked at her limbs, a distraction which had almost proved fatal in this last engagement. She plucked it loose feeling the chill of winter against her skin.

Ulgriff kneeled next to her, muttering a prayer in the Dwarven tongue that made his hands glow golden for moment before the warmth of it's healing spread through her.

"That it was lass, that it was," he said, shifting his weight and adjusting the heavy plate shoulders that shielded his neck, "They'll be back though, filthy greenskins always are. Ye keep a good watch out for us."

Elyshia snorted, even now the lithe form of Lurelai was out there somewhere. Whatever had broken her so many years ago left her without even the sense to come in out of the rain. Every once in a while she'd see the Elf dancing nimbly, soaked to the skin and with mud squealshing between her toes. Rogue was damn good in a fight though. Her daggers were quick as lightning and she glided through her foes with an unnerving and unnatural grace, stepping from shadow to shadow.

Now though the three of them could breathe a bit as the peasants worked feverishly to extract as much ore as possible. The Horde would be back. They always were. She and the motley crew who answered the call had their stronghold in Trollbane hall. From there they could see the narrow valley that housed the mine, the blacksmith where the gold could be smelted and off to the east the lumber mill perched on the heights. The lumber was essential for feeding the blacksmith. And usually only around a dozen manned the hall as the peasants worked feverishly to gather what was required for the war effort. Far too few to spread amongst these vital resources. Far, far too few.

But they'd held and held and held as the Horde broke upon them. This last battle for the mine the last in many days and it had left her limbs languid with weariness.

As she settled herself more comfortable, looking out into the rain, she could feel her mind drifting back to the fight.

What had seemed to be an avalanche of fur, green skin and green eyes that glowed with arcane energy decended on them - the heavy tread of Kodo rumbling the earth with the ravenous cries of the raptors adding their own disconcordant notes to the cacophany of war.

No time to think as she parried the first stroke with her staff and pivoted, curses flying from her mouth as the shock shivered up her arm. A light touch on a furry shoulder and the green glow surrounded his body. Tauren held an amazing reservoir of life force, something she could siphon off in the battle as she ducked under a wild swing. Tap with the staff and the shock in his eyes as her curse wracked his limbs with agony. Then the searing stench of arcane fire, a searing pain that crisps her skin and agony. Oh the agony as her flesh begins to bubble before Ulgriff's blessing draws the fire away, his steadfast Dwarven prayers accompanied by the skull crunching thudd of a mace, leaving the Blood Elf splayed like a squashed insect.

Twitching.

It was never pretty, she thought as the blood washed away in the rain. Never pretty. But that was life in Arathi Basin.