Close examination of the corpse reveals that Archimonde was wearing a symbol, or badge, written in Eldrich tongue. Rough translations suggest the message of the badge indicates that he lost 4 tonnes in several minutes, and encourages readers to "Ask him how".
Risq aimed her foot and without breaking stride, punted the small rock that lay on the road before her. Delving deep within her mind she felt the shadows stirring and reached out and embraced it. A power surged through her body, filling her with an evil energy. Her body tingled from head to toe with the buzzing sensations of an internal electrical storm. She wanted to keep it. She felt at one when embracing the shadows. That was the danger of dark magic she had learned. Once you touch it, you always want more, but it can swallow you up and take your soul if you aren't careful. She had seen the poor fools who gave in to temptation. Lost crazy souless beings. She focused the shadow magic to a single point. The swirling storm of energy within her rushed to the tip of her little index finger. With the speed of lightning, a bolt of green fire leapt from her hand to the rock. The rock exploded with a loud cracking sound, disappearing into sand and dust.
Someone just behind Risq gave a loud start. "For fucks sake Risq, you scared me." Said Varyz. Risq didn't even acknowledge him, she was too lost in the sensation of the shadows as they left her body. She cut herself off from the source but she could always feel it in the back of her mind, within arms reach, when she needed it.
The Molotov adventurers headed up the path towards the Night Elf encampment. The Battle of Mount Hyjal was about to be decided one way or another. After crossing a short bridge they arrived at Tyrande and her forces.
"Our defenses could not hold Archimonde, he has reached the World Tree!" If Archimonde could drain the World Tree completely he would become unstoppable. Everything good would become evil, everything light become dark. Legions of Liches and Undead would control the world. Essentially they had stumbled into the beginning of an apocalypse.
"Is it just me or do we always find ourselves in these life or death situations far too often? Ain't destiny a bitch?" said Katryna.
"The passage of time and the course of history swirls around the paths and fates of a few men every generation. It always has and always will. Perhaps this lifetime some of you are those whose actions determine the fates of the rest of us." Said Tyrande. "Please take these with you. Tears of the Goddess. They will help to break your fall when the foul demon launches you up to the heavens. Be careful with the timing though, use them too early or too late and nothing will save you. I know these are dire circumstances, but please take the time to laugh at any newberrys who die to fall damage."
"Should you get him low in health we will come to your aid and claim credit for the kill in the name of Night Elves. Should you fail and die then we will flee and pretend we didn't know you. Time is of the essence Molotov, you must hurry. We will watch from up here." Tyrande continued.
We set out for Archimonde as fast as our mounts would allow. The fate of all things living was a huge burden, but there's a certain comfort in knowing that if we gave our best and failed, we wouldn't be around to see the demise of the world. Dismounting, we engaged Archimonde and interrupted his draining of the World Tree.
Unlike those before him Archimonde didn't have much more to say then a snarl and a grunt as he turned to see Ratholorn hitting him hard about the knees with his sword. We spread out around Archimonde, wary of his formidable Warlock powers. Channeling fire and curses between huge melee blows, it was our best we could do to stay alive.
Huge snakes of fire streamed outwards from Archimonde's feet, seemingly honing in on a specific Molotov adventurer. Most of the brave combatants were wise enough to kite the snaking fire into a tree, causing it to grow confused. Some of the more movement impaired members of the party tended to stand still, or turn very slowly, almost as if they were turning around via a keyboard of some sort. These people tended to cry out for medical attention from the already overworked heal team.
Most of the ranged team spent the duration of the fight running. Running from fires, running from fear spells, running back from being tossed this way and that, and running because sometimes it just seemed the best thing to do. The heart of the battle was occurring at Archimonde's rump. The Molotov melee team stabbed away with all its might. It was a thankless job, having to always stare at boss backside, but one that they enjoyed, although some enjoyed it perhaps just a little bit too much.
Archimonde looked surprised by the might of the Molotov forces, and he began to desperately look for an answer to not only their attacks, but their proficient defenses to his assaults. Tyrande appeared over a crest and mumbled something incoherent, as Night Elves tend to do. Suddenly a barrier of light appeared around all of the Molotov members. Warriors of the Light. Invincible. Archimonde was defeated.
