The battle was heated; the air filled with the scents of hellfire and blood. The air filled with the screams of the triumphant and those of the dying. The Legion had initially struck at the floating city of Dalaran, only to have the attack wave pushed back. The city was holding, shielded in protective magics. Most of the fighting was in the air below it, or on the broken coast of Azsuna at the Illidari Front.
The Illidari were a force to be reckoned with, and some of the doubters that resisted the demon hunters from joining forces with them - realized different once they saw how they were like an unstoppable wall to the Legion. In combat, they seemed more demon than elf - but the Demons of the Legion fell by the score when demon hunters were on the battlefield. They moved with an insane amount of quickness and ferocity - sometimes seeming like a blur as they engaged the enemy; drawing on demonic energies from the fallen and using it against the foe.
Zakkarius felt it was almost like a dance. Everything had its own rhythm and timing. The sounds of battle itself, the music. The demon hunter surged through the demonic creatures with an incredible speed belying his size and his warglaives were a whirlwind of singing steel, blood and death. He truly was having the time of his life. This was how an Illidari lived...and also died. There was no greater honor than sacrifice.
He was in full armor (well as much armor as an Illidari would typically wear), which consisted of belted kilt and trousers. Chest harness and forearm guards as well as protection for the shoulders - but the most fearsome piece was the mask that completely covered their face and eyes. It hid their features and expression to the point of making them a featureless, merciless killing machine.
Through all this, Zakkarius kept an ear out for both his bretheren and his companion which had joined him in battle. It wouldn't be the first time they faced destruction together. In fact - this kind of activity was fun for them. He knew that Toni, the small human warlock woman, wouldn't be that far.
Zakkarius Felglaive - Fujin
The Illidari were a force to be reckoned with, and some of the doubters that resisted the demon hunters from joining forces with them - realized different once they saw how they were like an unstoppable wall to the Legion. In combat, they seemed more demon than elf - but the Demons of the Legion fell by the score when demon hunters were on the battlefield. They moved with an insane amount of quickness and ferocity - sometimes seeming like a blur as they engaged the enemy; drawing on demonic energies from the fallen and using it against the foe.
Zakkarius felt it was almost like a dance. Everything had its own rhythm and timing. The sounds of battle itself, the music. The demon hunter surged through the demonic creatures with an incredible speed belying his size and his warglaives were a whirlwind of singing steel, blood and death. He truly was having the time of his life. This was how an Illidari lived...and also died. There was no greater honor than sacrifice.
He was in full armor (well as much armor as an Illidari would typically wear), which consisted of belted kilt and trousers. Chest harness and forearm guards as well as protection for the shoulders - but the most fearsome piece was the mask that completely covered their face and eyes. It hid their features and expression to the point of making them a featureless, merciless killing machine.
Through all this, Zakkarius kept an ear out for both his bretheren and his companion which had joined him in battle. It wouldn't be the first time they faced destruction together. In fact - this kind of activity was fun for them. He knew that Toni, the small human warlock woman, wouldn't be that far.