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Earning Cred : A World of Warcraft – Wrath of the Lich King Story

This article is over 10 years old and may contain outdated information

“This is rediculous” thought the Blood Knight.

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Thought it, instead of saying it out loud, for a number of reasons.

One of which being that nothing would have heard her over the screaming cry of the wind whipping past her, the cold like daggers at every part of her exposed skin, each tiny and delicate snowflake more like the head of an arrow impaling her.

The second reason she thought it, was there was concern that the wild drake she was holding onto for dear life while simultaneously trying to slay the creature would have responded “I agree”.

Even though it was mere moments ago, part of her memory replayed the actions that brought her into this predicament. Vaguely, as if it were another lifetime ago, Gunnr remembered standing on the ground, the snow crunching lightly under her steel boots, the spear gripped tightly in her right hand as she scanned the skies above her. Spotting a suitable target, that spear was thrown with enough accuracy to strike their mark, although, instead of landing and fighting it’s aggressor on the ground, the majestic beast heaved from the shock, and the Paladin was viciously yanked from the ground.

Hand over hand the chain attached to that spear was climbed before Gunnr precariously mounted the broad neck of the blue beast, one gauntleted hand wedging under the edge of a large scale for what grip she could manage, the other working that spear free to repeatedly attempt to thrust it into the broad back of the wyrm.

The thick scales were not making this simple, the biting cold was not making this simple, and the fact that the biting cold was encrusting the thick scales in a thin but dangerously slick film of ice was making it…if possible…worse.

Stab. Shift. Grab hold. Shift. Hold tighter. Stab. Catch yourself. Shift and grip tighter.

This dance went on for what seemed like days over the frozen hills and valleys of Dun Niffelem, and would have been complicated in and of itself had the beast she was riding not also been clawing at her as it twisted and flew, trying to knock the pestering little insect from it’s back.

She was growing numb, be it from the cold or the the dizzying height or the loss of blood that barely had a chance to run down her face before freezing into crimson rivers. Another slash of claw came at her, which she managed to dodge with the help of sliding slightly on the icy back…and it was then she saw it and struck. The swiping arm of the drake had exposed an underside of it’s limb not protected by the thick, rough scales, and it was into this soft, muscled flesh the spear now drove.

It’s mighty head tossed back, mouth opened in a ragefull cry to the heavens as it felt a pain it rarely ever did. Flailing and twisting more, desparate to knock the creature from it’s back, the drake only served to offer that unprotected skin more often, allowing that vicious spear to drive home time and time again.

With a cruel growl and a mighty lunge of the beast’s shoulders, Gunnr slid helplessly forward, her meager grip unable to prevent her slide into the beast’s gaping maw.

From blistering cold, icicle-laden wind, to the hot and sickly-sweet stench of blood and decay and foul breath she went. She crouched, head ducked down and lodging one knee under her as she forced her muscles to try to stand. Shoulderblades fighting against the upper palet of the drake’s mouth, her knee pressing downward in an attempt to not only keep the vice-like jaws of the monster from closing upon her for good, but to also give her enough room to move for one last attempt of desperation.

Teeth dug into her legs and arm as the wyrm fought with all it’s might to leverage it’s propped-open mouth shut, it’s head thrashing from side to side in an attempt to dislodge the frustrating Paladin, and then, a strangled gurgle….and a low loud whistling that quickly grew louder and higher in pitch.

The large body of the wyrm came to rest rather abruptly at the center of a newly-formed crater in the snowy ground just inside the archway that signaled the entrance to Dun Niffelem. Arching a frozen brow, the towering ice giant looked down to the scene that had suddenly appeared at his feet. Leaning down slightly to investigate further, his other brow rose to meet the first as the body of the wyrm began to move slightly.

A small, gauntleted, blood-caked hand appeared out from the tangle of body, followed shortly by another as a small figure fought to extricate itself from the corpse of the newly slain wyrm. Seeing a shadow begin to fall across her, Gunnr looked up, to see the hulking form drawing close, a large hand slowly extending and making it’s way towards the Paladin.

The haft of the spear was slapped into that giant hand as Gunnr was finally able to climb free enough to stand atop the dead drake. Reflexively, she wiped the back of her gauntlet across her mouth, which only served to add more of a smear of blood to her face instead of wipe it clean as was the intent.

For a moment, her small eyes locked to his large ones. Then, turning her head, she spat a large mouthfull of blood onto the husk below her. Hopping down to the snow on still shaky legs, trying to hide the limp that caused her to grimmace as she landed, she summoned her own crimson drake and gingerly climbed atop it’s saddle before spurring it towards Dalaran.

Behind her a smirk of respect creased the face of the ice giant as he watched her fly off.


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