They're in the Trees 002

With just Turion and the Ancient Protector on the western wall, alongside a handful of archers in the tower, the young Night Elf was not feeling confident.

Although the giant treant was hurling mana-infused boulders every 15 seconds, and dealt AOE damage, the Orcs attacking this section numbered less than 300, and had started to spread out. Standing in loose formations, only two or three enemy combatants were slain by the magic rocks. Meanwhile, only about a dozen sisters were stationed on this section of ramparts, and maybe ten warriors.

Their arrows were accurate, but Orcs were sturdy bastards. Unless their throat or heart was pierced, they could easily tank three or four before going down. Amongst the assault group, there were even a handful in bastardized plate armor stolen from Humans. Even with enchanted bows, and hardened arrows, it was difficult to bring them down in one hit. A fantasy world was just that unscientific.

Turion had transformed back into his humanoid form by now, and was drawing upon the reserves of the Moonwell like a man dying of thirst sucking at a water bottle. Mana continuously poured into his system, and his eyes glowed a powerful moon-white. Holding out both hands, he repeatedly spammed [Moonfire] into the enemy ranks.

As a vertical beam of holy-arcane energy, it was the perfect weapon against those climbing ladders. Not only would the pale energy attack strike one Orc, but also hit those beneath them. Meanwhile, this wasn't some videogame where magic hurt only living objects. White fire burned alongside the wood of the ladders, slowly turning them to ash.

Despite taking down a dozen ladders, many more successfully docked on the wall, and the second wave of Orcs had made it up.

Mostly clad in loose leathers, and coated in tribal tattoos, they wielded an assortment of one-handed axes, spears, and massive two handed weapons, they roared in fury. Most of the warriors present were from the Warsong Clan, and a hint of the demon's blood yet flowed in their veins. Eyes glowing red, they burst forth, unleashing their Primal Rage.

By this point, the Night Elf men had retreated to the entrance of the western tower, and were using the narrow entrance to mitigate the enemy's numbers advantage. Whilst the archers were in the tower, unleashing arrows so fast, their fingers began to blister. Turion, meanwhile, was atop the tower with them, understanding that if this hardpoint fell, then the rest of the wall would be open to an Orcish flank. Heart pounding, and sweat forming on his hands, he privately wondered if this was it.

“Andu-falah-dor! Let these greenskins meet the steel of Elune!” A Night Elf Elite male clad in midnight black armor drew his two-handed sword.

The dozen other black-clad Advanced Warriors drew their weapons in sync, and met the oncoming horde with an incredible level of stoicism.

“WO LO LO!!!” The leading fully armored, Elite Orc-standing just as tall as the Night Elf men-roared, and came crashing forward with his two handed maul.

Before they could meet, Turion channeled a spell for 2.5 seconds, and [Entangling Roots] emerged out from underneath five of the enemies. An Advanced tier spell used via his targeting feature, thick, thigh-sized roots spawned in, completely ensnaring four Advanced Orcs from head to toe. The captured Orcs were mercilessly pincushioned, and then stabbed in the throat from the Night Elf Warriors.

As for the enemy Elite, he stomped on the roots, breaking them apart with a brutal amount of force. Red light shimmered around his skin, and he advanced rapidly towards the elven line with supernatural speed. What the Orc was demonstrating was one of the Warrior's bread & butter skills [Charge].

However, just at the last second before the Orc could close, Turion discovered that he could manipulate his spells. This wasn't a game, and the same spell didn't need to be identical every time! One narrow, tiny root lifted up just enough in front of the Elite's path. The intent was not to capture, but to trip!

The Orc mini-boss detected this sneak attack, and kicked it aside mid-stride. Unfortunately for him, this created an infinitesimally small opening. Experienced through millennia of war, the black-clad Night Elf man met the Orc with his own [Charge]. Ducking under the ever so slightly off-balanced maul, he stuck his moon-white enchanted sword upwards, punching the tip of the blade through his jaw, and out the top of the head.

This sequence of events happened increasingly quickly, and the rapid deaths of the Orc higher tier units caused a brief rift in their leadership structure. And yet, these were Warsong Orcs juiced up on battlelust. Leadership? What leadership? Just chaaaarge!

And so the berserkers climbed over the big bodies of their fallen comrades, blindly assaulting the superior position of the Night Elves.

For the next three hours, Turion supported his allies with buffs, healed the wounded, and blasted apart defenses.

Sore, tired, and in desperate need of sleep, Turion sat his ass on an Orc corpse, and stared at the carnage in a daze. Five Night Elf Warriors had been slain in the melee, whilst over 200 Orc corpses laid in place. The rest of the assault force had pulled back on this section of the wall to regroup. From the looks of things, they were preparing to send another 500 this way. All the while, the fighting at the central & eastern theaters had never ceased, and in fact, based upon the noise alone, felt like it was about to reach a crescendo.

“Eat, young Druid. The next wave shall not be as merciful.” The Elite Warrior seriously stated, shoving some cornbread into his hands, as well as a skin full of water.

Turion greedily guzzled down the goods once he realized that the food was magical. It actively restored his stamina, and reinvigorated him. Food in the game restored HP, but in this universe, it seemed to be like a stimulant, greatly reducing fatigue. His voracious appetite elicited a laugh from the surrounding Night Elves. Looking up from his meal with hamster-like cheeks, Turion swallowed all his food at once, and washed it down with water. Amazingly, the liquid restored mana too.

“What's so funny?” He questioned with a raised eyebrow.

“Take no offense, young Stormrage. Seeing you act like this is something of a novelty. It reminds us of youth. For those of us who grew under the branches of your father, and the grace of your mother, it is quite the novel experience. One I am sure we will all cherish for centuries to come.” The Elite explained.

“But the Well of Eternity is finished…you all have that much faith in my parents? Don't you feel any resentment at all that they couldn't stop the Burning Legion?” Turion asked with curiosity.

“Hmph, maybe it would've been fine if the Dragons showed up for once.” A bitter voice whispered from the back.

The Elite sighed, nodded his head, then shook it from side to side. “Do not worry about such things, child. The Well has been lost before. So long as we retain our faith in Elune, all will return to nature.”

Gazing at the assembled ancients, Turion saw that most of those present agreed with this sentiment, but it would be a lie to say that there was absolutely zero dissatisfaction. In fact, at the mention of the Well's destruction, there was quite a few subtle shifts in expression. No one would be happy that their path to immortality had been cut off.

“...from my understanding, my Uncle hid several vials containing the water from the Well of Eternity. Furthermore, it has been ten thousand years since the first one was destroyed. I can guarantee that several other vials had been taken in the meantime as an assurance for just such a scenario. Do not lose heart. I think things are simply uncertain with my father asleep in the Emerald Dream. Another Demon invasion or attack upon a new Well of Eternity…I do not think this is something we can withstand.” Turion said his thoughts outloud, whilst also trying to comfort this group of brothers & sisters. “I know I'm just some youth who may look in over his head…but I promise you, this status quo of our slow decline will not last forever. The Kaldorei will not go quietly into the night.”

He received a few wry smiles in reply, whilst one or two appeared hopeful. When they were going to talk about it further, the Orc horns sounded out once more, and they resumed their advance.

-Go to the eastern wall, young Turion, the Ancient Protector shall defend the west.-

Turion suddenly received a message through his connection to the Moonwell from the Priestess. Then a series of ‘visions’ were revealed to him, showing that the Earth Elemental was ravaging the eastern wall, and that Commander Haldrissa was holding out in reserve to meet the enemy leader, the Epic Hero, chieftain to the Warsong Clan, Drum'ga Hellscream. Meanwhile, the Orcish Shaman was going uninhibited, and was slowly shaking the enchanted walls of Silverwing Hold apart with a great Earth Totem. The hunched aged Shaman's incantation was guttural, making one imagine a scene of brutal slaughter. The Night Elf Druid Hero was nowhere to be seen, and the Heroic female Captain was at her wits end.

Once the vision ended, Turion took a deep breath, then looked at everyone present with a complicated look. Due to the various ‘Enemies of Nature’ he had slain, completing the repeatable quest several times, he had leveled up to 14, and learned a handful of new spells.

Namely [Cure Poison], and the Bear Form Primal Rage abilities [Demoralizing Roar] & [Enrage].

Of course, those all paled in comparison to [Revive]. An out of combat spell that only worked within 30min of a deceased’s demise. In other words, he could not use it when under attack, or having initiating an attack on others.

From a lore perspective, bringing the dead back to life was not an easy feat. Typically, only those at or above the Epic Hero tier had this ability. And even then, there was no certainty that it would work. But Turion had a System. So long as the corpse was targetable, he had mana, and it was within that 30min threshold…

Without waiting a second more, he turned towards those Night Elf corpses, and got to work. The spell this time had a relatively long channel time compared to others. It took a full 30 seconds of nonstop concentration to unleash this power.

When the first Warrior came back to life, his fatal wounds had already healed, but he still had some of the battle damage done to him. Casting the insta-spell [Revitalize], the Warrior's wounds slowly mended, it was sort of like looking at Deadpool heal from his wounds.

Before the Elite Warrior could say anything, Turion was already deep in concentration to [Resurrect] the next fallen comrade. Although he was executing a spell through the System, this was still reality, and he very deeply felt a connection to nature as he performed this awesome magic. Sweat accumulated at his temples, and fatigue covered his shoulders, yet he did not cease in his actions for even a second.

Less than 3 minutes later, all five downed Warriors were standing hail and hardy.

“Shaha lor’ma. Elune-adore” They saluted, and performed a bow that wouldn't seem out of place in an Eastern fantasy story.

Turion eeked out a smile, and staggered forward, then was caught by the Elite before he could collapse. “You have done a great deed this day.”

“Stormrage.” A Warrior nodded at him.

Several sisters who were watching from the tower above slammed the butts of their bows upon the white stone of Sentinel Hold, cheering him on.

“Stoooorrrmraaage. This. Is. The feeling. I remember.” The treant rumbled, and seemed to breathe in some residual green energy that Turion had spent on [Resurrect]. “I heard. The Priestesses. Message. Go now. NONE. SHALL. PASS.”

The Ancient Protector started to conjure up the stone boulders, and started to hurl them farther than before, deep into the enemy camp.

Witnessing the scramble to dodge amongst the greenskins, Turion managed to smile slightly. He then turned to the Elite, and performed a Night Elf salute.

“I apologize, friends, but the Priestess has sent for me on the other defensive line. I fear things are not so optimistic on the central & eastern walls.” Turion explained, reluctant to depart from them.

“Ishnu-alah, Stormrage. We shall guard your flank. Go. Make us proud.” The Elite slammed a gauntleted fist onto his breastplate, and then saluted alongside the other Warriors.

Turion gave them a deep look, and then turned around, running towards the next front without another word. He had spent enough time [Resurrecting] those five, and the walls were in jeopardy. He could not delay any further!

Sprinting along the wall, he beheld a chaotic scene that could only be described as madness. The bulk of the Horde forces were assaulting either the tunnel down below, or the ramp on the eastern side of the fort. Catapults relentlessly struck at the eastern tower, hurling giant boulders one after another. Where once pristine white bricks formed a structure that could only be described as art, now stood a scarred edifice. In a way, it was representative of modern Kaldorei culture.

Whilst the sisters desperately shot arrow after arrow, launching poisoned attacks, and [Arcane Arrows], this was only enough to take down the cannon fodder. Meanwhile, a team of Ogres wearing armor were ramming a large oak into the tunnel gate. Each one of them was peppered with arrow shafts, resembling porcupines, and dripped gallon after gallon of blood. Even so, their flesh was thick, and their strength mighty. Possessing dull minds, and dulled pain centers, they single mindedly rammed forward again and again.

With each thrust, the central wall on top of the hillside would shake & shudder, showcasing just how much force was put into it. Standing upon the central wall, the Hero Captain adjutant to Commander Haldrissa took aim. The [Arcane Arrow] notched on her bow accumulated a great deal of energy. Spiral grooves formed around her weapon, and upon release, the arrow landed true. Entering the skull of one Ogre, it passed on into the beast behind it, slaying two with one hit.

Taking a deep breath, and pulling upon her reserves, she moved to do the same thing once again. However, a young Elite Shaman-standing behind an Ogre meat shield-cast [Lightning Shield] on this group of Ogres. A transparent film coated the squad manning the log just as the Captain loosed her attack. The power of a Hero was an entire tier higher than an Elite, and pierced through the shield after a second of delay. However, that second of delay was enough time for the Ogre to shift slightly to the side.

That powerful arrow that was strong enough to run through two fully armored Ogres now was stuck, lodge five inches deep into the beast's shoulder. If it had struck the throat or heart, it would have been a lethal strike. Instead, the dull pain only served to make the beige skinned beast even more ferocious. The log ram punished the enchanted gates once, twice, three times! With a mighty crash, the gate splintered, and gaps wide enough for a man to stick his arm through formed in the barrier.

Witnessing this series of events, Turion hated it.

New to these people, he had inherited the culture, memories, love, and bonds of the Night Elves. Although it would be a lie to say he had fully assimilated, an attack on one Night Elf, was an attack on all Night Elves!

“Bring him down, sisters, slay the Shaman!” The Captain ordered, directing several glaive throwers to make their move.

Six mechanisms somewhat resembling ballista drew back their bows, and unleashed a giant spinning blade of death. The projectile-looking something like a shuriken-made a sharp whistling sound whilst it sailed through the air.

“Wuagh!” An Ogre roared, dropping the log for a second to bat a glaive aside with his gauntlet.

Another one was somewhat slow, losing his [Lightning Shield] due to the impact. The Captain capitalized on this, killing him dead.

The Elite Shaman recognized what was happening, and held out a gnarled finger at one of the glaves. His staff glowed blue, and then a bolt of [Chain Lightning] engulfed the crew. The sisters manning the weapon screamed in agony as they fell to the ground twitching. Just as they were about to perish with barely any breath left in them, Turion dropped an instant cast [Rejuvenation] to stabilize them one by one. Then, he focus healed them with [Healing Touch].

Upon witnessing this, the Elite Shaman gave Turion a vicious look, clearly he was now a target. Still standing behind an Ogre for cover, the Orc Elite needed 2.5 seconds to channel the offensive spell. Turion had no such complications. So what if you're hiding behind a meat shield? My attack comes down from the sky, motherfucker!

Holding out his hands, he shot out [Moonfire]. The Advanced tier attack clashed with the Elite [Lightning Shield], shaving away a third of the defensive spell. Spamming the spell five more times in quick succession, Turion popped the shield, and dropped down the wrath of Elune upon the greenskin.

Holy-arcane fire burnt the young Shaman, and a bone necklace full of magical energy burst apart, deflecting one strike. For the next one, the Shaman was forced to cancel his offensive spell, and insta cast [Lightning Shield].

Spooked now that his artifact had been broken, the Orc barked at a nearby Wolf Rider, and hitched a ride, retreating from the tunnel entrance.

During this short interlude, the Heroic Captain had slain several more Ogres. Now, only a single two-headed Ogre remained wielding the log.

“Puny knife ears.”

“Die!”

The pair of heads cursed up at them in a deep voice.

“Bring him down, sisters, bring him down!” The Heroic Captain shouted. Her [Arcane Arrow] went straight through the Ogre's heart, whilst a rain of wood fell upon him.

Despite this fatal wound, the Ogre roared his last, and before the strength left his arms, he smashed the tunnel open.

“Oh no.” Turion whispered, his eyes going wide.

“WO LO LO LO LO!!!” The Warsong warcry howled throughout the central location beneath the hillside.

Axe crazed berserkers, and spear stabbing killers rushed over the corpses of the Ogres, eager to claim victory. Although less than half of the original Orc force remained, and very few Night Elves had died to the catapults or Troll spears, the greenskins excelled at close quarters combat. Even if the narrow hallway of the tunnel favored the smaller defensive force, everyone upon the wall felt like it would only be a matter of time before they breached the base.

For a second, it felt like defending the wall was pointless, that they should all retreat to the Keep for a final holdout.

“Stormrage, your assistance is needed elsewhere. Reinforce the eastern wall.” The Heroic Captain sternly ordered, and then, looking as if she had prepared herself to die, she marched a squad of Elites into the tunnel.

Turion looked at her back, his heart full of respect, understanding that the CQC down there was going to be incredibly brutal. If he were a Hero himself, the Bear Form would have been just what the Night Elves needed down there. Even as an Elite, he could maybe help turn the tables But as a sole Advanced Druid, his impact wouldn't be as big as healing an Ancient Protector.

Taking a moment to center himself, he now very carefully ran between crenellations, and watched his surroundings with every step. All around him Troll javelins clattered at his feet, or flew overhead. Once, a spear struck his faint pink shield, and he rapidly reapplied [Mark of the Wild] once it popped. Another time, he had to jump forward as a boulder as big as three of himself standing shoulder to shoulder came screaming down. Aka, that was a boulder as big as three refrigerators!

Along the way, he noticed many brothers & sisters who were wounded be saved by the Moonwell that was remotely wielded by the Priestess of the Moon. For the past three hours, the liquid in the Moonwell had barely rippled. Despite how much it looked like he was pulling upon it, he had only taken about 5% of the total capacity. Now, however, that the tunnel war had commenced, the juice in the well was being used at a staggering amount! There was perhaps 35 to 45% left!

No one else on the wall had a grasp of that pool like he did, but merely by looking at the slower than usual heals, he could ascertain that it was being reserved for the most strategic locations, and important individuals. He had no doubt in his mind that the Heroic Priestess of the Moon now had to ration the remaining mana in the Moonwell. That she might ‘let’ a dozen sisters die if it meant saving the Heroic Captain, or even let the entire hold perish if it meant preserving the Epic Hero, Commander Haldrissa. From that point of view, being a healer in real life was a much more cruel job than in some game. Deciding who lived, and who died when you were all millenia+ friends/acquaintances/lovers…that was a difficult occupation!

Whilst he fretted over the reduced pool size, the central wall began to shake and shudder nearly every second. The aged Heroic Shaman back at camp had been unrelenting in his efforts. The rust colored totem before him repeatedly shook like a tree in fierce wind. Every cadence was matched by the wall, making the young Druid feel like he was riding a roller coaster. Inevitably, this action affected the Rangers, making the famed archers misplace their shots time and again. The wall itself was maintaining its enchantments, but with the combined catapult assault, Turion felt like a section would collapse within the hour.

Gritting his teeth, he eventually made it past the slowly crumbling eastern tower, and was just in time to witness a sea of Orc corpses. The ramp leading up to the wall was where the arrow barrage & glaive throwers had been thickest. Thousands of greenskinned bodies lay down looking listlessly towards the sky. Likewise, however, there were many wounded Night Elves who had barely survived, and then had been healed by the Moonwell.

However, with the concentration of most heals going towards the central tunnel, many wounds, and a handful of deaths began to accumulate on this front. It didn't help that a big ass Earth Elemental two stories tall was pelting the defenders with magical rocks the size of watermelons. Turion arrived just in time to see an archer's chest cave in, and collapse seconds from death in front of him. As expected, the Priestess of the Moon held back, and the woman was on the verge of breathing her last.

At that very moment, Turion very clearly sensed that the Moonwell's mana reservoir was at about 28%. Only a handful of minutes had passed since he had checked last, and they had already lost that much. Each time he refilled his mana bar from 0 to 10, that was like draining 0.1% from the well. To restore the Ancient Protector, he had to spend 45 mana, or 0.45% of the well's reserves. Ordinarily an infinitesimally small number. But they were in crunch time right now, and the enemy Epic Hero hadn't made an appearance. If he used the Moonwell's resources willy-nilly right now, and Haldrissa died because the Priestess of the Moon couldn't heal her, then Turion would be the biggest sinner in the land!

Gritting his teeth, clenching his fists, and staring at the dying Night Elf woman with a heavy breath, Turion felt conflicted like never before.

It was at that moment, that he recalled that he had some of that moon juice liquid that the Elite Warrior had stuffed in his hands from earlier! Having placed it into his inventory without a second thought-thank you gamer hoarding sense-he figured that there was a way!

Dropping a [Rejuvenate] on the ancient woman, he saw her caved in chest expand like a balloon, and watched the light return to her eyes. With that, he quickly spammed [Rejuvenate] nine more times on both her & other nearby wounded, gassing himself, and going oom.

Running away from a stray lethal rock from the elemental, he then found a relatively safe spot to climb up to, that being a small nook behind the dormant Ancient Protector's neck.

Busting out the bottle of 3/4 full moon juice, Turion chugged the next 1/4 like his life depended on it. Consuming what was effectively a mana restoring drug rapidly like that made him feel like he had massive diarrhea, and had just chugged a max power energy drink. A light headache pulsed at his temples, and Turion saw spots for a second, yet he didn't pull upon the Moonwell, and those Rangers had been saved!

Steadying himself, he then began to cast [Healing Touch] again and again. During this time, the earth elemental had breached the wall, and had made all of the defenders retreat. Orcs were beginning to follow in its wake, and were roaring in victory.

In less than 3 minutes, the Ancient Protector had been brought online.

It didn't need a single word of coaxing from Turion, its yellow eyes glowed with anger, and it didn't even bother to scoop some earth from the ground. Instead, it uprooted itself from the ground, and JUMPED DOWN FROM THE HILLSIDE.

Turion's eyes went wide in shocked surprise as he was still standing on its neck!

Two giant tree trunk feet slammed down onto the earth elemental, severing its spine.

…Turion in his haste, realized that this behemoth of a tree that had been chilling in the hillside was much larger than an Ancient Protector…it was an Ancient of War.

A giant dust cloud poofed into the sky due to the earth elemental snapping in two. The treant's two vine wrapped hands were scarred by a barrage of stones, and thick purple sap-like blood poured down from a hundred tiny cuts. His HP was rapidly fading, Turion couldn't keep up with the damage this continuous stone barrage was inflicting, BUT THE TREE DIDN'T FUCKING CARE!!!

“WARRRRRR!!!”

The Ancient stomped down hard onto the elemental, grinding his massive stump-like legs into its core until a bright brown-rust light exploded, killing the damned construct once and for all.

A raging tornado of dust disappeared in an instant, and in its place stood one of nature's most stalwart guardians.

~~~~

AN: See what I did there? The MC is in a tree. Wow.