Thunder ran down the ramp of broken rock, the unwieldy alliance flag strapped over his back, over the grassy knoll towards the swiftly flowing stream. On the far bank he saw a night elf mage.
Long ago the night elves had cast out his people from amongst themselves for practicing magic. That set off a chain of events that had led his people from one betrayal to another. So many of his people had perished and it had all started with the Night Elves’ phobia of magic and distrust of magic users. Seeing his duplicitous long separated kin on the opposite bank infuriated him.
He dove into the stream.
The Night Elf caster, in the fine ranged military tradition of striking while the iron is bogged down in water, began to cast.