Das and Demitier had actually always wondered why Dick brought Lady Velinde along. In their eyes, apart from her keen sense of smell, this timid, cowardly female worgen was utterly useless!
But after witnessing Velinde's frenzied slaughter, the two finally understood the paladin's intentions.
Worgen who had lost their reason and descended into bloody slaughter were among the most dangerous creatures in Azeroth. When the blood-soaked Velinde moved like a shadow, swinging the Scythe of Elune, and took nearly five minutes to cut off the head of Jammal'an, who had no way to dodge, even the mysterious drakonid Das, who feared nothing, dared not rashly approach her as she stood leaning on her scythe, panting heavily on the battlefield where blood ran in rivers.
The last unlucky drakonid to approach rashly had lost three fingers. Fortunately, drakonids were tough, thick-skinned creatures, and even injuries like severed fingers could heal completely after a few months of recuperation. But his example had thoroughly demonstrated to everyone else what it meant to recognize neither friend nor family.
The provoked Velinde had once again fallen into the state of being ruled by her wild instincts that she had experienced in Karazhan's cellar. The thick smell of blood at the scene had driven her almost mad! Her eyes watched everyone warily, and threatening growls escaped her mouth from time to time.
Had her last shred of reason not been suppressing her primal urge to slaughter everything around her, this female worgen, dyed blood red from head to toe, would probably have already lunged at the surrounding onlookers. Never doubt the sharpness of the scythe in her hands. Apart from the large band of trolls who had fled, the Atal'ai Exiles had already demonstrated its terror by sacrificing a third of their number.
"Cough, cough..."
Having