Amongst the ruins of old Russia, a blizzard was brewing. In the cold of his snow filled gaze, a guardian, a warlock, tried his best to glide above a massive snow bank to survey to land as best he could. In the distance he spied a few captains digging through fresh wreckage, dregs soon behind to keep the watch. With very low visibility and munitions, he had to get closer. 200 yards. 150 yards. 75 yards. Slowly he circled towards the other side of the wreckage being sure to keep out of sight. Soon, the captain's were on his motion taker, there were three of them... but the dregs were nowhere in sight. He only had enough energy for one nova bomb, and he had to make it count. As the captain's drew nearer to one another to haul out precious salvage. The motion tracker light up! He was discovered by the once absent dregs and forced to take his shot with his nova bomb. Leaping high into the air, covered by the blizzards winds, he reigned hell from above! He sent most of the captains back into the void. Upon landing the dregs laid down suppressing fire pinning him behind the bodies and salvage... The last, half dead captain used his remaining strength to smash this lone warlock's ghost and stab him in the heart. Thus, my warlock has been ended.