dungeon elite

7th September 2012

Quote reblogged from Sword'n'Sorcery with 209 notes

The Alliance liked to think of the members of the Horde as “primitive”, so that they might think themselves as “civilised” and, thus, superior. But what dwarf, safe in his halls of stone, knew what it was like to feast upon the fallen foe as a Forsaken did? What human, in his complacency, could be so lost in battle lust that, minutes later, he would find himself blinking blood out of his eyes, his voice hoarse with screams as he stood over the corpse of his enemy? What little gnome had tasted the joy of seeing the spirits of her ancestors fight alongside her in a spectral echo of a very battle?
None.
This was the Horde. This was its glory. Beneath feet bare and shod and hoofed and two-toed, the ground yielded to them as they marched. Muscles moved beneath taut green or blue or brown or pale pink skin or fur; throats were opened in song. Spear and sword, bow and blade, were already out and ready to strike.
The vast wave flowed south toward Theramore, thousands strong, with a single purpose.
To fight, and perhaps to die, with all honor and glory.
For the Horde.

Source: voodooshuffle