[Elrua] Desperation

Desperation

In the depths of Silithus, the haunting of a lone Night Elven settlement is disturbed by a group of brave soldiers, wearing the colours of a company known as the Wild Tempest. Several bodies litter the floor like worn rags, battered and broken, spirits sent to the final resting place.

Their attempts appear to be giving them no success, each individual being swamped by large bugs, their wings clapping in the air as their over-sized pinchers bite and nip at the flesh and muscle of the Company's members.

Time appears to freeze as a large, muscular male Draenei disappears in the middle of two swarms, barely even screaming. A smaller, athletic female, not too far away, battles with her own bloodthirsty insects, trying in vain to get to the one she calls brother.
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Elrua hisses in pain as her precious tail is attacked from all directions, her grip on the pommel of her mace tightening so she doesn't let it fall to the ground below. Seeing her brother attacked and used as a shield angers her, her eyes only seeing red of various shades and hues. If anyone could hear her thoughts now, they'd consider her psychotic, fit for nothing but the Disciple's plaything.

"Hey! Do not use my brother as a shield!" She calls out in desperation, her helpless voice muffled by the countless numbers of bugs surrounding her body. She spits out one of the more sneaky insects, which took the opportunity to try to get inside of her as she spoke. After what felt like hours, she finally put all of her strength into throwing her aching body to the ground, exotic blue blood trickling from her hands, tail and face.

Now for the rest of you! Die!  
She throws her mace-arm in all directions, dexterously twisting her wrist and arm to manouvre her actions skillfully, managing to kill off the remaining flies surrounding her with her well-placed blows. She then turns to her brother and the Worgen coward, charging forwards with her shield raised, slamming it into the middle of the army of insects, a dull 'thud' indicating she hit home. The bugs fall to the floor. Dead.

She lets out a sigh, relieved that she could have saved her brother one more time. She knows she cannot bear to lose him. One of her last remaining family members.

Now, for the others.
She turns her gaze over her shoulder, scanning the soldier's conditions, running it through her mind, over and over. Prioritizing each injury, as she was taught to do.

Commander down and bleeding. Priority One. Requires medical aid as soon as possible. Cathal, bug bites. Low Priority... Anti-Infection required. Probably the same for others,
Brother... Priority One. Requires Medical aid as soon as possible. Leg shattered, may require amputation... Bug bites, Anti-Infection... Hole in his chest from the Moonfire...

Her thoughts are rudely interrupted by the appearance of one other swarm, this time of further Night Elven Spirits. She curses loudly in common, the word sounding unfamiliar on her Draenic tongue. She's thrown backwards by a sudden shockwave force, landing roughly on her tail, causing her to yelp out in pain. She doesn't care for that. She looks over towards Mahodiir, her brother having been thrown straight into a wooden pillar of the barely held up structure above.

She ignores the protesting creaks of her limbs as she dives towards his side, allowing the others to rid their presence of the bothersome Elves. As much as she once called them allies, she can only think them of a nuisance. Why can they not just go to the Light, for Naaru's sake?!

She barely gets to her brother's side before she's having to defend herself again, but this time from the attack of one of her own allies! Yavari. She glares in her direction, enraged that she caused Mahodiir further injury. Shadow magic! Can she not see it is causing my brother more pain?!

Pushing those thoughts away, getting more irate as the hour passes, she gets to work, the sounds of the battle surrounding her slowly fading as the Elves begin to fall in defeat. She glances to her left, hearing an approaching person, spotting the Worgen from before. Cathal.

"Is there anything I can do?" Elrua furrows her brows before nodding once. Despite how much the Worgen may not have helped her brother, he can do so now.
"Deal with his chest wound; it needs pressure to be placed on it". She wastes no time before she adjusts Mahodiir's shattered leg, readying to begin the medical procedures. Unfortunately, even fate has decided to be cruel as yet another group of Elves appear from seemingly nowhere.

Her attention demanded that she fights, but her heart tells her to heal. To do what she can for her only sibling. She begins by digging into her knapsack, pulling out her medi-box and removing the required supplies. Stitching needle, yes. Thread, yes. Bandages... Where are the bandages?!

She catches movement in the corner of her eye and she hisses aggressively. She raises her shield awkwardly with her arm, intercepting the glaives of the Night Elf nearby, the delivering blow twisting her arm painfully. She's only too grateful as Cathal leaps in to the injured soldier's defense, occupying the Elf with his claws and fangs against the biting sharpness of the glaives the spirit wields, growling viciously like that of a rabid dog.

Returning her worried gaze to Mahodiir, she finally finds the bandages, pulling them out of the medi-box. She retrieves various vials and poultices from her knapsack, laying them in front of her, on a clean cloth sheet. Here we go. Breathe, Elrua.

She dabs a small amount of anti-infection and cleaning salve on a fresh rag, specially made for injuries such as her brothers. Lightly, she cleans the wound, removing the caked gore and dirt from his chest, before readying the bandages. She carefully adjusts his upper body, before once again being interrupted. Her eyes flash in barely contained rage as she, once more, lifts her shield to defend her position. She swipes the tool in an arch motion, deflecting the glaives once more, baring her fangs like an angry cat, her bleeding tail cutting through the air in her irritation.

Seconds turn into endless minutes as she re-focuses on the task at hand. She slowly, yet efficiently, hugs the bandages close to Mahodiir's body, wrapping them over and around the gaping hole in his chest, unable to do any serious surgery in such conditions. Following up with the stitching, she carefully threads the needle, her dark brown brows furrowed into a frown, strands of her hair poking out in places along her head. But she cares not.

Cross-Stitching... Remember. Naaru, please guide me to save him... Please, O'Light. She silently prays to the sentient beings, an act which she does little and not often. She makes an oath to change those ways, if he makes it out of here, alive. She pokes the deeper of the lacerations on his un-bandaged skin, hesitating slightly. Her hands are shaking, and she can't help but fear of what would happen if she messes up.

She takes a deep breath before plunging the tip of the needle into his flesh, weaving it in and out of the wound, tugging ever so slightly to make sure both ends of the skin meet neatly. On and on she goes, until its done, breaking the thread afterwards.

She continues to ignore the bloody ambience around her, using a fresh cloth to feather-clean Mahodiir's tendrils. She winces, quite aware of how painful it's going to be. At the sound of another approaching individual, she turns her head, ready to attack. Oh, for the love of...

She stops in her tracks, spotting Yavari.
"I can save him", Yavari gazes down towards Elrua's broken brother, causing Elrua to narrow her eyes in suspicion. She cannot help but be slightly fearful of Yavari at this moment, her appearance resembling a spirit of Shadow and Dark magic. There, but not entirely.

"Can I trust you?" She questions the other female, needing her reply. She knows she has no choice but to accept the offer, that her brother needs her to, but she cannot help but ask.
"The Commander is up and fighting, isn't he?" Elrua's gaze trails over to Keag, replying without a second thought in a bitter tone, unable to stop herself.
"Not currently".  She nods towards the Captain, the noble Dwarf collapsed on the floor in his own pool of blood, battered and bruised. So much for recovery...

She gazes back to Mahodiir, coming to a swift decision. She sighs quietly to herself, praying once more to the Naaru in her mind.
"Do it". Two words, ready to become her undoing. She grasps at Mahodiir's wrist, pushing herself forwards to lean over him, lowering her head to his temples, hiding the threatening tears from those around her. You must survive, brother.
She allows herself a moments pause as she presses her cracked lips against his hard skull, a last chance of goodbye, in case her attempts were futile.  Any chance at changing her mind is gone as the last glimpse of her brother is his destroyed body disappearing with the grinning Yavari.

Standing up, she turns towards the enemies, her eyes glimmering with unfallen tears and uncontained, heated, anger. She pulls her shield from the floor, resting it in the air, in front of her chest, her mace being tugged out of it's holder once more.
She swings the mace left and right in front of her in fluid, consecutive angled motions, slicing through the air with the crown.
"Right" she states, eyeing the remaining Elves, almost cockily. She finishes her sentence in her mind, not caring if its out of character.

Who's next..?