I
I returned to find the old Dranaei looknig longly into the distance. I told him I was successful in destroying the pumps. He looked solemnly at me for a second, and simply pointed into the distance at the churning waters. “All is lost..” he muttered to himself. “Not yet.” I said as I turned to leave. “Go to the Underbog and save what’s left!” he yelled as I mounted up. I flew directly towards the monstrous pump and plunged into the water. The mighty pump seemed to be battle worn. There was a gaping hole just big enough for a Gnome of my stature to fit through. I fought the current and entered the pipe.
I emerged with a gasp, filling my lungs with the humid, stale air. To my surprise this place was filled with heros gathering amongst a few glowing portals. I dried off to the best of my abilities, and joined a party as they entered the Underbog. This area was filled with exotic life. The air was thick and humid. I found myself wondering what I could expect from this place. We’re here to save these creatures, would they be hostile?
As if it was answering me, two large sporebats came rushing towards us. I sprung into action and fought the creatures off, as the druid in my group casted healing spells. Wiping the sweat from my brow we trudged on through the swamp. I wasn’t sure whether it was because the druid was in tree form or not, but I asked him about the nature of this place. “How did this place come into being? Where did all this wildlife come from?”
Bark creaked as the druid turned around. “You must think because I resemble a tree, that I’d know such things, am I correct?” I looked down in embarrassment. “All I know is years ago, the Naga, once controlled by Illidan have once again wreaking havok. We must stop them before they get to Ghaz’an.” I didn’t have time to answer. A large Bog Giant came lumbering towards us. I’d dealt with one of these before, but nothing this big. Once again I waited for it to strike the ground, then focused my attacks. It put up a good fight, but with the help of my fellow warrior, we reduced it to a heap of mud and slime.
We continued on, fighting confused, frantic swamp life until we made it to a seemingly manmade structure. Inside, I saw countless Naga stirring about. Through a small window, one of them spotted us standing outside. Before we knew it countless angry Naga came slithering out of the structure. The druid hung back as three of us faced the heard. We took down the Naga warriors as the hunter shot down casters from a distance.
We made our way into the fortress, leaving a trail of dead Naga and Murkblood Tribesmen in our wake. At the end of this structure was a large arena with a platform in the center. “There he is!”, the druid yelled. We picked up the pace and closed in on the platform. A three-headed hydra, not unlike Ghaz’rilla paced back and forth covered with a dripping green liquid. In a desperate cry, the druid creaked. “We’re too late.”
“Too late.” I seem to be hearing that a lot around here. Ghaz’an must have been a majestic beast long ago. Now it was reduced to a raving monster. It ran towards us with it’s three heads whipping through the air. I jumped to the side, narrowly escaping two heads as they snapped at the ground. It was clear to me, that this was my primary target. I waited and protected myself from it’s attacks, then swung with all my might as the hydras head flung at me once again, this time rolling across the platform detached from its body. Two more left.
Ghaz’an reeled in pain as the lifeless stub swung around. Then it snapped back, catapulting another head in my direction. This one wasn’t so clean. In my haste I impaled the head right through the mouth. It lifted me up off the ground. I was swung around like a rag and landed at the very edge of the platform. With two lifeless limbs trailing behind, the beast charged toward me in one last, desperate attack. I picked myself up off the platform just in time to dodge the hydra as it fell dead into the murky water below.
I rejoined my group as they cleaned their armor. “Well, at least the Naga are defeated” I said reluctantly to the druid. “This place will never be the same” he muttered as he transformed in front of me from a tree into a lanky Night Elf. We silently parted ways, and I flew back to share the news.
“Too late.” I seem to be hearing that a lot around here.
I landed and readied my words, but my old friend was nowhere to be found. A dwarf emerged from one of the buildings as I searched. “I’m afraid Baalrun passed away, lad.” I stood there for a moment, staring in shock. Baalrun died without any hope of peace or reassurance of balance. He died with the sad truth, that his homeland was doomed. If only I’d been here sooner, maybe I could have saved this place. Maybe Baalrun would still be here. What did he think of me before he died? It pained me to think of such things. With grief and regret stirring inside, I boarded my Gryphon once again and flew to the south. I couldn’t look back.
