Prompt: May 29, 2012 - By chance, your character happens to stumble across an enemy. This enemy can be personal, from the other faction or an acquaintance. The two of you are caught on neutral ground, so no fighting is to happen there. So what happens, if anything at all?. . . . . The battle had been horrendous - a gory, brutal affair in which innards spilled and blood spattered and limbs were torn free. It was - as so many of such things seemed - a near pointless capture of a forward point in Silverpine, long before the Wall came down. The Alliance wanted a place to set up a forward base in hopes of encroaching on Tirisfal, and so AEGIS went to set up a forward base. It was only natural that word got out - it always did; so few ops could stay entirely black - and the Horde got wind and the strike forces were sent.
. . . . . So here they were, the Alliance victorious while surrounded by corpses which, unlike their allies from Acherus, wouldn't be getting back up again. Triage was in full-swing, the heat of battle over as the rear guard moved in with supplies and began setting up tents to shelter the worst of the wounded. Valdiis rarely sought medical attention with her allies after battle, and saw to it that her liaison Bergmann healed her as little as possible. The little man caused such agony!
. . . . . Limping from a blow which had sliced a tendon or two and left control of her right leg wobbly, she left the captured point's safe zone and headed up the road. The Horde were sending what few brave scouts they could spare to retrieve injured from the field and by some odd, mutual nonaggression pact such actions were typically allowed. Probably just because both sides were busy tending the wounded and temporarily unconcerned with supremacy. Besides, heading to the battlefield to dispatch wounded Horde who could come back to fight her later would mean hobbling some quarter mile, alone, into a blood-soaked field. No, she'd just sit here on this fence by the side of the road and collect her thoughts, observe the Horde movements, see who they took the most care in retrieving (for assassinations later), and rest.
. . . . . It is amazing what the calm in the hour or so after retreats have been sounded will allow. One of the AEGIS commanders sat, unprotected and injured, on a fence out of shouting range of the Alliance triage, and no one bothered her. That is, no one bothered her until there was a faint rustle behind her and a quietly cheerful "Hee!"
. . . . . "Ah, zat damned dead elf. Are you offerink to let me pull your ozer arm off?" Valdiis didn't get up. She seemed quite confident of her ability to take down the undead elf who emerged from the grass and clambered up onto the fence beside her.
. . . . . "Of course not, miss Valdiis! Doctor Rasomil would be mad if I undid all his hard work! Hee!"
. . . . . Valdiis kept her hand near the hidden dagger on her belt, but nodded. "Good slice out zere at ze Sepulcher. I almost dropped ze grip on you."
. . . . . "Hee! Thanks!" The dead elf smiled even wider than before, her rotted face a grotesque example of glee in the extreme.
. . . . . Against all common sense, two soldiers who would kill each other without question or hesitation on the battlefield, the commanders of their respective military strike teams sat on the fence within arm's reach and spent a few minutes kvetching on the challenges of repairing an unliving body.