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The Ups and Downs

"AAAAAaaaaAAAaaaa!"  The wind tore the screams from their throats as they hurtled down, down, toward the blue ice of the glacier below.  Koltira must have had a little more air in his lungs because his howl lasted a few seconds longer than Thassarian's.   Eyes wide they watched the ground loom ever closer, the wind's fury trying hard to suck them out of the saddle.  Invincible made not a sound.  At the last instant his wings snapped open and they surged upward with such force Thassarian could hear their spinal bones clicking and armor grinding.  For several long minutes they plunged up and down with stomach-dropping speed as the winged steed adjusted to their weight and balanced the load they made on his back, finally settling into level flight a thousand feet above the land of Northrend.

"Hack!"  Koltira's first effort to speak came out as a wheezing cough.  "S-still back there?"

Thassarian sucked in a couple shallow breaths.  "Aye.  Although I think my nether parts have been shoved somewhere into my guts."

"Come now, it was not that bad."

"Your voice sounds higher."

This dry statement earned Thassarian a glare from his elvish partner.  Koltira half-turned in the saddle.  "I hope you are joking."  His movement tugged on the reins and Invincible obediently yawed into a steep turn.

"Never mind!!  Just fly this fellow, all right?"  Thassarian flung his arms around the elf's middle, deciding that riding pillion on a winged horse was definitely a bad idea.

"Fine!  I think I am getting the feel of it."  Koltira faced front, carefully worked the reins, and their steed once again resumed a less-alarming flight pattern.  "You don't have to choke me, you know."

"Fly level for more than five minutes and I'll consider it."  Gingerly Thassarian eased up on his clutch.  "You can hang on to the pommel of the saddle, whereas my own seat is more uncertain.  Besides, it's not as if you have to breathe."

"Fear brings out your sense of humor, my brother," said Koltira.

"Oh, certainly not.  I'm quite sure that died with me some time ago."  Thassarian stared ahead at ranks of clouds on the far horizon.  "That looks like a storm coming."

"It does not feel natural, either."  Thassarian felt rather than saw his partner's scowl.  "The wind smells of mana."

"Surely Lord Arthas would not be raising a storm at this time?"

"I doubt it, but his enemies might."  Koltira checked the horse's gear and buckles.  "Make sure everything is properly tight, we may have some rough flying ahead."

They flew on, Invincible gaining altitude with each stroke of his wings in an effort to overtop the billowing barrier of clouds.

----------

"Felwood, the land that first felt the taint of the demons of the Burning Legion."  Melithar nodded at the forest ahead of them.  "There are allies here who will aid us, if we can reach their holdings safely."

I nodded, touching the pommels of my sword and long knife as I scanned the gloomy landscape.  Twisted trees crowded the crooked roadway, their branches reaching over us like grasping hands and their heavy canopy of leaves hiding the clean sky from sight.  From the corner of my eyes, leering faces seemed to lurk within the gnarled bark of the tree's trunks.  "Ashenvale was a lot more cheerful.  This forest doesn't feel terribly welcoming."

Melithar chuckled, the sound making the gloom less oppressive. "Believe it or not, the land here is much improved.  The demons polluted the forest with their fel magics over a thousand years ago and the druids of the Cenarion Circle have labored hard to cleanse and heal the land.  Now we will be able to hunt and eat without fear of becoming tainted ourselves."

"Improved?"  I swiveled my head to take in the full range of the forest around us.  "How long until it is well again?"

"Hum, you would have to ask one of the Cenarion druids that question to get a more accurate estimate, but I would guess it should be well-recovered in another five thousand years or so."

My brain reeled at the thought of such a weighty mass of years.  "Not too long if you're an elf, I suppose," I said.  "But I can't plan on settling here in my short lifespan."

"We night elves are mortal now, as well."  Melithar shrugged.  "Another unfortunate byproduct of those long-ago battles for the world.  I do not know yet how many years I have, but I am unsure if I will endure long enough to see this place fully cleansed."

"Somehow I think you will live longer than our typical span of seventy years."  I grinned at the elf.

Penny snorted as if she were amused.  "You could say that," she said.
"Dragons live far longer," said Melithar, humming a tune as Duskstar loped along the worn cobbled road.

My horse snorted again.  "Depends on what sort of trouble they find once they get old enough to fly from the nest."

----------

"Ah, that was a good fight."  Thassarian grounded the tip of his sword on the fallen body of the demon he had just killed.  It was an ugly creature, covered with armored hide.  Each gnarled arm sported hands that could have snapped off his head, had he been an ordinary human, and long claws that could shred plate armor.  Once he had sheathed his weapon between his shoulders he began rifling the bodies for the rare metal they had been tasked to find.  "I feel no sense of guilt at slaying them."

Koltira used his boot to shove one of the demon's fellow-warriors off his own runeblade.   "You feel guilt when carrying out our lord's orders?"  He lifted the now-notched blade his opponent had carried and nodded at the greenish-gleaming metal, adding it to the stockpile attached to Invincible's saddlebags.

Thassarian worked his way through the piled of slaughtered demonkind, adding to their collection of fel iron.  "I feel… as if I should feel guilt… when I am ordered to kill those who are not actively fighting us.  We – this was before you joined us – slew any civilian in Lordaeron after Arthas killed his sire, King Menethil.  There were few survivors, perhaps none at all."  He shrugged his armored shoulders.  "The guilt is there, a faded echo of an echo."

"Let it go, my brother.  You know we lost any right to feel anything when we were raised to the Lich King's service in undeath."

The human nodded slowly at the elf's words.  "You are right."  His mouth curved in the hint of a smile. "But I will say I feel, if you can call it that, nothing but satisfaction at killing demons.  I can hear the sigh of relief from the earth itself."

"What?  We do not make the earth groan?"  Koltira looked down at his partner as he climbed aboard the winged horse.

"No."  Thassarian gripped the cantle of the saddle and leaped up behind the elf.  "Undead or not, this world is our rightful home.  We were born here, died here, and even undead we belong here.  The demon-folk are from another place less wholesome than the darkest pits of the Scourge.  Their presence fouls the world like nothing else can."

"You sound as if we are doing Azeroth a favor."  Koltira leaned forward into the powerful downbeat of Invincible's wings.

The human leaned forward as well, aiding the liftoff.  Soon the land dropped below them and they circled into a blue sky.  "Perhaps we are, I don't know."

"The Scourge are undead, but demons are agents of a being who is anti-existence, if I remember my lessons correctly.  I too, will confess to knowing some sense of satisfaction at slaying them."  Koltira adjusted their course.

"Speaking of such work, where shall we go next?"  Thassarian eyed their trove of fel iron weapons and implements.  "I do not think we have found enough of the metal to justify returning home to Northrend."

"We have saved the best for last."  Koltira spoke over his shoulder above the rush of the wind.  "Now that we have gotten all we could from the demons of Desolace, we fly for Felwood.  After we explore all their holdings there, we should have enough to return home with honor."

"Excellent.  Three months on the road – or in the air – is enough even for me."

"Don't tell me you miss Princes Valanar and Keleseth?"

"Ugh, no.  I've no love for the darkfallen."  Koltira could feel Thassarian's shudder through his armor.  "It will be simply be good to be among our own kind again."

"Well then, with any luck we should be able to return home soon."  Koltira's blue-lit eyes stared toward the northeast and he hissed out a slow breath.

Thassarian caught the shift in the elf's mood at once.  "Is something wrong?"  He listened for the mental voice of their master and heard nothing save a distant sensation that their lord's attentions were elsewhere.

"We may be lucky indeed.  We will return with fel iron and one other valuable thing our lord will want."

Description
The Ups and Downs

"AAAAAaaaaAAAaaaa!"  The wind tore the screams from their throats as they hurtled down, down, toward the blue ice of the glacier below.  Koltira must have had a little more air in his lungs because his howl lasted a few seconds longer than Thassarian's.   Eyes wide they watched the ground loom ever closer, the wind's fury trying hard to suck them out of the saddle.  Invincible made not a sound.  At the last instant his wings snapped open and they surged upward with such force Thassarian could hear their spinal bones clicking and armor grinding.  For several long minutes they plunged up and down with stomach-dropping speed as the winged steed adjusted to their weight and balanced the load they made on his back, finally settling into level flight a thousand feet above the land of Northrend.

"Hack!"  Koltira's first effort to speak came out as a wheezing cough.  "S-still back there?"

Thassarian sucked in a couple shallow breaths.  "Aye.  Although I think my nether parts have been shoved somewhere into my guts."

"Come now, it was not that bad."

"Your voice sounds higher."

This dry statement earned Thassarian a glare from his elvish partner.  Koltira half-turned in the saddle.  "I hope you are joking."  His movement tugged on the reins and Invincible obediently yawed into a steep turn.

"Never mind!!  Just fly this fellow, all right?"  Thassarian flung his arms around the elf's middle, deciding that riding pillion on a winged horse was definitely a bad idea.

"Fine!  I think I am getting the feel of it."  Koltira faced front, carefully worked the reins, and their steed once again resumed a less-alarming flight pattern.  "You don't have to choke me, you know."

"Fly level for more than five minutes and I'll consider it."  Gingerly Thassarian eased up on his clutch.  "You can hang on to the pommel of the saddle, whereas my own seat is more uncertain.  Besides, it's not as if you have to breathe."

"Fear brings out your sense of humor, my brother," said Koltira.

"Oh, certainly not.  I'm quite sure that died with me some time ago."  Thassarian stared ahead at ranks of clouds on the far horizon.  "That looks like a storm coming."

"It does not feel natural, either."  Thassarian felt rather than saw his partner's scowl.  "The wind smells of mana."

"Surely Lord Arthas would not be raising a storm at this time?"

"I doubt it, but his enemies might."  Koltira checked the horse's gear and buckles.  "Make sure everything is properly tight, we may have some rough flying ahead."

They flew on, Invincible gaining altitude with each stroke of his wings in an effort to overtop the billowing barrier of clouds.

----------

"Felwood, the land that first felt the taint of the demons of the Burning Legion."  Melithar nodded at the forest ahead of them.  "There are allies here who will aid us, if we can reach their holdings safely."

I nodded, touching the pommels of my sword and long knife as I scanned the gloomy landscape.  Twisted trees crowded the crooked roadway, their branches reaching over us like grasping hands and their heavy canopy of leaves hiding the clean sky from sight.  From the corner of my eyes, leering faces seemed to lurk within the gnarled bark of the tree's trunks.  "Ashenvale was a lot more cheerful.  This forest doesn't feel terribly welcoming."

Melithar chuckled, the sound making the gloom less oppressive. "Believe it or not, the land here is much improved.  The demons polluted the forest with their fel magics over a thousand years ago and the druids of the Cenarion Circle have labored hard to cleanse and heal the land.  Now we will be able to hunt and eat without fear of becoming tainted ourselves."

"Improved?"  I swiveled my head to take in the full range of the forest around us.  "How long until it is well again?"

"Hum, you would have to ask one of the Cenarion druids that question to get a more accurate estimate, but I would guess it should be well-recovered in another five thousand years or so."

My brain reeled at the thought of such a weighty mass of years.  "Not too long if you're an elf, I suppose," I said.  "But I can't plan on settling here in my short lifespan."

"We night elves are mortal now, as well."  Melithar shrugged.  "Another unfortunate byproduct of those long-ago battles for the world.  I do not know yet how many years I have, but I am unsure if I will endure long enough to see this place fully cleansed."

"Somehow I think you will live longer than our typical span of seventy years."  I grinned at the elf.

Penny snorted as if she were amused.  "You could say that," she said.
"Dragons live far longer," said Melithar, humming a tune as Duskstar loped along the worn cobbled road.

My horse snorted again.  "Depends on what sort of trouble they find once they get old enough to fly from the nest."

----------

"Ah, that was a good fight."  Thassarian grounded the tip of his sword on the fallen body of the demon he had just killed.  It was an ugly creature, covered with armored hide.  Each gnarled arm sported hands that could have snapped off his head, had he been an ordinary human, and long claws that could shred plate armor.  Once he had sheathed his weapon between his shoulders he began rifling the bodies for the rare metal they had been tasked to find.  "I feel no sense of guilt at slaying them."

Koltira used his boot to shove one of the demon's fellow-warriors off his own runeblade.   "You feel guilt when carrying out our lord's orders?"  He lifted the now-notched blade his opponent had carried and nodded at the greenish-gleaming metal, adding it to the stockpile attached to Invincible's saddlebags.

Thassarian worked his way through the piled of slaughtered demonkind, adding to their collection of fel iron.  "I feel… as if I should feel guilt… when I am ordered to kill those who are not actively fighting us.  We – this was before you joined us – slew any civilian in Lordaeron after Arthas killed his sire, King Menethil.  There were few survivors, perhaps none at all."  He shrugged his armored shoulders.  "The guilt is there, a faded echo of an echo."

"Let it go, my brother.  You know we lost any right to feel anything when we were raised to the Lich King's service in undeath."

The human nodded slowly at the elf's words.  "You are right."  His mouth curved in the hint of a smile. "But I will say I feel, if you can call it that, nothing but satisfaction at killing demons.  I can hear the sigh of relief from the earth itself."

"What?  We do not make the earth groan?"  Koltira looked down at his partner as he climbed aboard the winged horse.

"No."  Thassarian gripped the cantle of the saddle and leaped up behind the elf.  "Undead or not, this world is our rightful home.  We were born here, died here, and even undead we belong here.  The demon-folk are from another place less wholesome than the darkest pits of the Scourge.  Their presence fouls the world like nothing else can."

"You sound as if we are doing Azeroth a favor."  Koltira leaned forward into the powerful downbeat of Invincible's wings.

The human leaned forward as well, aiding the liftoff.  Soon the land dropped below them and they circled into a blue sky.  "Perhaps we are, I don't know."

"The Scourge are undead, but demons are agents of a being who is anti-existence, if I remember my lessons correctly.  I too, will confess to knowing some sense of satisfaction at slaying them."  Koltira adjusted their course.

"Speaking of such work, where shall we go next?"  Thassarian eyed their trove of fel iron weapons and implements.  "I do not think we have found enough of the metal to justify returning home to Northrend."

"We have saved the best for last."  Koltira spoke over his shoulder above the rush of the wind.  "Now that we have gotten all we could from the demons of Desolace, we fly for Felwood.  After we explore all their holdings there, we should have enough to return home with honor."

"Excellent.  Three months on the road – or in the air – is enough even for me."

"Don't tell me you miss Princes Valanar and Keleseth?"

"Ugh, no.  I've no love for the darkfallen."  Koltira could feel Thassarian's shudder through his armor.  "It will be simply be good to be among our own kind again."

"Well then, with any luck we should be able to return home soon."  Koltira's blue-lit eyes stared toward the northeast and he hissed out a slow breath.

Thassarian caught the shift in the elf's mood at once.  "Is something wrong?"  He listened for the mental voice of their master and heard nothing save a distant sensation that their lord's attentions were elsewhere.

"We may be lucky indeed.  We will return with fel iron and one other valuable thing our lord will want."