Timeline: Post-Before the Storm, before the Battle for Azeroth pre-patch events
*See my AO3 version of the story for character reference image (archiveofourown dot org / works / 17434571)*
Part One: As the Clouds Roll In
(Alliance)
As his tale came to an end, Anduin Wrynn fell silent, and Synclair sighed, lowering her eyes to the stone floor of the throne room. Though she had the impression he'd been careful with his words—withholding some of the details of his meeting with the Warchief for one reason or another—what Anduin had revealed was enough. Things had gone very wrong during the King's trip to the Arathi Highlands.
"It didn't have to be this way."
"No, it didn't," Anduin replied sadly, "but Sylvanas made her choice. Now we must make ours."
Brown eyes met blue as the High King of the Alliance and Archdruid exchanged solemn expressions. Synclair wasn't sure if it was a weakness or a strength, but Anduin wore his heart on his sleeve, and it was apparent how hurt he was by the Warchief's actions. He had honestly believed that the meeting could have been a turning point for both the Alliance and the Horde. Genn on the other hand ...
A glance in the old wolf's direction confirmed her suspicions. He hadn't expected the meeting between Anduin and Sylvanas to end well, despite the King's best efforts. And yet, he hadn't stopped Anduin from going through with it. The leader of the Gilneans had never been one for subtlety and was incredibly protective of Stormwind's young King, so why hadn't Genn intervened?
Sensing her stare, Genn locked eyes with Synclair, who casually slid her gaze back to the throne. Now was not the time.
"And what exactly is our decision, your majesty?"
"Isn't it obvious?"
It wasn't Anduin who had spoken. As Genn's sharp tone echoed off the stone walls, Synclair ground her teeth but held her tongue. Anduin himself looked mildly surprised, turning to glance at Genn Greymane with a slightly reproachful gaze. The two kings seemed to have some kind of silent exchange before Genn pursed his lips and Anduin turned back to the Archdruid.
"Unfortunately, I believe Genn is right. Sylvanas seems to be itching for war, and I have little doubt that she'll strike sooner than we would like. We have no choice but to do everything we can to prepare before that happens."
"With all due respect, my King, the people of Azeroth are still reeling from the Burning Legion's assaults. Your champions have hardly had time to rest since returning from Argus."
Anduin sighed. "I am aware, and I wish I could give them—and you—more time to recuperate but I don't think fate will allow it."
Synclair went stiff. "Do not concern yourself with me, your majesty. I had little to do with it."
"Did you not just face down a newborn Titan soul?"
"... Yes," she admitted reluctantly, "but I didn't do so alone. My comrades poured their blood, sweat, and tears into ensuring the protection of Azeroth, a feat only made possible with the help of the Pantheon."
Anduin smiled softly. "The Pantheon would have made little difference themselves if they hadn't have had the assistance of such capable fighters. I am incredibly grateful for all of your services." Rising to his feet, Anduin stepped down from the throne and strode forward, stopping an arm's length away from the young druid. "Services that I must call upon again."
"Then I am not the one you should be speaking to, your majesty. The guild master—"
"I have already spoken with your guild master."
Synclair blinked. "I must admit then that I don't understand what you are asking of me."
A quiet cough was heard off to the side, and both Anduin and Synclair turned to glance at Genn. It was no secret between them that Synclair and the Gilnean King had a less than stellar history, but they generally attempted to rein in their distaste for each other, especially around Anduin. Though the King of Stormwind was at least vaguely aware of the situation, there was an unspoken expectation placed on them to leave their issues outside when stepping into the keep.
The older Worgen straightened but said nothing.
Ass, Synclair thought bitterly.
Anduin held Genn's gaze for a moment longer before turning back to Synclair as though the interruption had never happened.
"I would like for you to take charge of a small team of covert operatives. Each member is to be given specific instructions on how to prepare before Sylvanas makes her first move and a set of unique tasks to enact once the time comes."
"I am no leader."
Synclair caught a hint of a smile on Genn's lips from the corner of her eye, but chose to ignore it. As did Anduin.
"You have been an invaluable asset to the Alliance since the Cataclysm. Even if you may doubt your capabilities, we—", the King shot a quick glance at Genn, "I do not."
She shrugged off the compliment. Anduin had a kind heart, but she knew her place: do as she's told. Her performance was merely a reflection of the orders given and nothing more. Anything less would be a dishonour to the guild, and by extension, the Alliance.
"What about the Spymaster?"
"The SI:7 are already in motion. What I require of your team will be quite different."
Synclair sighed. "If that is your command, your majesty. I do not wish to see war taint these lands again, but I will do what must be done to the best of my abilities."
"Thank you, Archdruid."
Synclair bowed lightly, her wild mane fluffing out around her shoulders. Unlike many of her kind, she preferred to remain in her Worgen skin. She liked the sharp reminder of the delicate dance between nature and nurture, and felt that staying in her wolf form served as a method of training one's self-control. "Whom do you wish to be on this assignment?"
"I will personally send out the invitations to those whom the council have deemed appropriate for the task. You will receive correspondence shortly with the necessary details."
"Of course, your majesty. I look forward to hearing from you." Bowing once more, Synclair turned on her heel and swept out of the throne room.
The two kings silently watched as the young druid retreated. It wasn't until they had seen her shift into the form of a sparkling white Lunarwing owl and fly out into the bright, sunny sky that Anduin finally spoke.
"You really should have more faith in her, Genn."
"I don't know what you're talking about." Anduin raised an eyebrow. Genn sighed. "It is not her ability as a druid or her role in the Alliance that I question."
"Then what is?"
Genn seemed to consider Anduin's question before shrugging. "I suppose it doesn't matter in the end. Our ... issues stem from many years ago and are of a personal nature. There is no reason for it to have any bearing on the task at hand."
"Mia likes her."
"Yes well ..." Genn grumbled, but he couldn't help but let a small smile tug at his lips. "You know what Mia is like."
"Yes, I do." Anduin smiled in return. "As long as you feel there is no reason to worry, then we'll continue as planned. I'll prepare the invitations this afternoon."
Genn frowned. "You aren't thinking of including Raeyvin, are you?"
"Alleria seemed pretty insistent that she be involved."
"Of course she did," Genn scoffed, crossing his arms. "Alleria wants a reason to keep that Void Elf busy about as much as the rest of us."
Anduin laughed as he stepped passed Genn and strode towards the council room. "Come now, she's not that bad."
"Not to you. She's smart enough not to bite the hand that feeds her but—"
"It'll be fine, Genn." Pausing, Anduin glanced over his shoulder, unable to wipe the grin off his face as he added, "But yes, giving her someone else to bother for a while might be a welcome relief."
Genn snorted.
Synclair lowered swiftly, shifting from owl to Worgen, her pawed feet landing solidly on the flat, dry ground. In front of her stood the Lakeshire Inn, the local tavern and resting place within the Redridge Mountains. On the outside, it looked much the same as many other human-produced structures found in the Eastern Kingdoms, but on the inside ...
A tall, slim figure stood just outside the inn, leaning against the entryway, and Synclair smiled as she took in the familiar face.
"Huntmaster Dendrii."
The dark-haired Draenei looked up, a small smile creeping across her face in return. "Archdruid," she replied with a respectful dip of her head. "I should have known the King had you heading the team."
Anduin had explicitly kept the identities of those selected a secret, even from Synclair. His letter had merely detailed the roles she was to provide to those in attendance based on their skill set, but with so many Azerothian citizens having taken up the craft of one class or another, it had been difficult to predict whom she would encounter today. And if she was to be in charge of this operation, and even she had been left relatively in the dark, it was unlikely that Dendrii knew something she didn't.
Synclair frowned, stepping closer. "What gives you the impression that I am?"
Dendrii laughed, her thick Draenic accent weaving through the sound. "Always so modest." Pushing off of the frame of the inn, she planted a hand on her hip, the metal scales of her armor clinking softly. "You think I wouldn't have noticed you tucked away from the rest of the guild the last few days, carefully pouring over some mysterious letters?"
"I didn't think anyone would pay much attention, what with a certain Engineer running around."
"Ah, yes. Well, those contraptions do tend to walk a fine line between useful and distracting."
Synclair snorted. Dendrii didn't stop by the guild hall often, and even when she did, she never stayed for long. She suspected it was the call of the hunt that always tugged her Draenei friend away. But Dendrii's relative absence meant she really had no idea just how distracting such inventions could truly become, especially if the guild's resident Gnomes decided to get involved.
Her private quarters would never be the same again.
"How many are we expecting?"
"Including ourselves, six."
"Then this location will indeed serve us well."
Synclair tilted her head towards the inn. "Has the basement been cleared out?"
Dendrii smirked, smoothly palming her bow and retrieving a handful of finely crafted arrows from the quiver strapped to her back. "Not yet."
Synclair watched as the patrons who had been enjoying themselves in the underground fight ring scrambled up the stairs and out of the inn, pushing each other around in their panic.
"That was ... effective."
Dendrii smiled sweetly, casually slipping the unused arrows back into the quiver. "You'd be amazed the things you can accomplish with the threat of a sharp object through the throat."
Threat indeed. Synclair had had to stop herself from letting her jaw drop open in shock when they'd entered the basement of the inn, and Dendrii had calmly proclaimed that anyone who didn't immediately evacuate the premises would be shot without hesitation.
"I've been looking for more exciting multi-target practice, anyway," she'd sneered, a dangerous glint in her eyes as she'd pulled back the bowstring, four arrows lined up neatly between her fingers.
Unsure if she should laugh or cringe, Synclair settled for what she hoped was a neutral expression. "Hm, imagine that."
The momentary silence left in the patrons' wake was quickly broken as soft footsteps from above moved across the inn's main floor and began descending the basement stairs. Synclair and Dendrii turned to glance at the third member of their team.
"Ah, Archdruid, Huntmaster. Good afternoon."
Dendrii smiled, and Synclair nodded respectfully, pleasantly surprised to discover that she was also already familiar with the newcomer.
"Farseer Asteriel, it is good to see you."
The young Draenei shaman bent forward into a polite bow, her strikingly white hair sweeping forward over her shoulders. "It is an honour to have the opportunity to serve with the both of you again."
Synclair had to resist the urge to squirm uncomfortably. She despised being treated as though she were on some other level from everyone else. She had even attempted to turn down receiving the title of Archdruid during the Legion's onslaught but to no avail.
Her jaw tightened. "It is an honour to serve the King and the Alliance."
It was a deflection, and they all knew it.
But before either Draenei could respond, the small, dank room suddenly glowed with a dark purple hue as a void rift tore through the open space in front of the three champions. Stepping back in surprise, Synclair bared her sharp canines and growled. Behind her, Dendrii had swiftly prepped her bow, the string pulled taught, and Asteriel's palms crackled with electricity.
A second passed. Then another.
Finally, a slim, pale-skinned figure stepped through, the rift sealing shut behind them as their feet touched the dusty basement floor, leaving no trace that it had ever been there in the first place. The newcomer's glowing blue eyes swept over the three fighters, taking in their stances, and she slowly raised her palms in defence.
"I come by request of the High King."
Breathing a collective sigh of relief, the champions relaxed. With the factions on the brink of war, they could never be too careful. And though Synclair loathed to admit it, she still didn't entirely trust the Void Elves, despite being led personally by Alleria Windrunner and having Anduin's blessing.
Stepping closer to the void-touched elf, Synclair extended a clawed hand in greeting. "Our apologies. I am Synclair."
"Shalyvrias."
"It's a pleasure to meet you. This is Huntmaster Dendrii and Farseer Asteriel," she added, tipping her head towards her companions.
Shalyvrias nodded to them both, respectfully cupping her palms in front of her robe. "It is an honour. Though I must apologize for startling you. Passage through the rift is natural to me now and is a much more effective form of travel. I didn't consider how it would appear to anyone else."
"That's quite alright." Asteriel piped in, flexing her fingers as though to rid herself of any remaining electric current. "The rest of the Alliance is still adjusting as well."
Shalyvrias smiled.
As the two Draenei stepped closer to converse with their new companion, Synclair stood back, quietly studying them.
Based on the information she had received from the King, Shalyvrias had to be the team's mage. Her garb alone practically screamed that she was a wielder of Arcane magic, but it was the grand staff strapped to the elf's back that solidified it. Which meant they were just waiting for a physical fighter of some sort—likely either a monk or warrior—and a rogue. There was no guessing involved for the latter. Anduin had very specifically emphasized that the final member was a 'highly proficient assassin and expert poison practitioner'. But there were many skilled and reputable rogues in Azeroth, so even attempting to narrow down whom it could be from the countless possibilities would be like looking for a wolf's hair in a haystack ...
They would just have to wait and see.
The fifth member of the team turned out to be a Void Elf monk, though thankfully Aerilynn had opted against travelling through the rifts, choosing instead to use the stairs to enter the basement like any normal Azerothian.
Having had little personal contact with the Alliance's new additions until today, Synclair found the differences between Shalyvrias and Aerilynn disturbingly fascinating. Though both had the energy of the void coursing through their bodies, Shalyvrias seemed relatively at ease with her new powers, behaving almost as though she had been born with them, while Aerilynn seemed to avoid wielding the dark energies in favour of the training she'd received from the monastery, using it as a source of control and grounding.
Synclair prayed that meant neither of them were at risk of being consumed by the void at any point in the near future. The last thing they'd need right now would be having to take out members of their own team while war was breaking out around them.
Though it was now past the intended starting time, the official proceedings had yet to begin since their mysterious rogue still had yet to arrive. Ears twitching anxiously, hoping to catch the sound of their final member's entrance, Synclair sighed. With this kind of delay, she was starting to wonder if the King had put her on the team. But ... no. There was no way. She had to be wrong. Anduin wouldn't have ... right?
A sudden flash of light and puff of smoke filled the room, temporarily blinding the assembled champions, and before the air had even started to clear, Synclair groaned.
If Anduin weren't her High King, she'd throttle him because standing in the middle of the empty fighting ring stood none other than Raeyvin.
"Honey, I'm home!"
Two deep sighs echoed behind Synclair, which could only have been Dendrii and Asteriel. The three of them had unfortunately had a few run-ins with the assassin during their time battling the Legion, but they had gone without encountering her since they'd returned from Argus.
Perhaps they should have appreciated that small blessing more ...
"What? No 'welcome home'? No 'we've missed you, babe, come put your feet up'?"
"You're late," Synclair ground out, clenching her jaw.
"Obviously. How else was I supposed to make such a fabulously dramatic entrance?"
The fur on Synclair's body bristled. Was Raeyvin treating this meeting as some kind of joke? The sheer audacity of such an insult to the High King and the Alliance forced a growl from her, but before she could do or say anything she might regret later, a calming hand came down her shoulder.
"All that matters is that you are here now." Asteriel's soothing voice rolled over the Archdruid, grounding her, a hint of the wild elements the shaman controlled mixing with her natural accent. "As we are all assembled, shall we begin?"
She was right. They had pressing matters to attend to, and Raeyvin wouldn't have even deigned to be here if she didn't understand the severity of the situation. Drawing in a calming breath, Synclair straightened, the tension falling away from her muscles as she stood at her full height, now easily towering Raeyvin's petite form. A sight which seemed to amuse the assassin, a small smile tugging at her pale lips.
"Yes, thank you, Farseer." Taking a moment to glare pointedly down at Raeyvin, Synclair then turned and strode to the other end of the small room so she could keep all of the champions within her sight. She tried to convince herself that she did so to properly conduct the meeting, and not because they now had three void wielders present.
Retrieving the scroll she had tucked into her belt this morning, containing all of the carefully planned tasks Anduin and the council had assigned them, Synclair had barely finished unrolling the parchment when they heard heavy footsteps thundering above them from the upper part of the inn.
The team froze, all eyes on the stairwell as one of the soldiers of Stormwind nearly tumbled down the stairs in his haste.
"Archdruid!"
Dendrii stepped forward, helping to steady the poor man as he reached the bottom of the stairwell, throwing an arm out to stop him from crashing face first into the dirty floor. Though he was pale and shaking, he nodded at the Huntmaster in appreciation.
Synclair blinked. "What are you doing here?"
"You and your team must come with me immediately."
Aerilynn turned to Synclair, glaring. "I thought our meeting was to be a secret."
"It was," Synclair growled, moving to the knight's side and gesturing for Dendrii to step aside. She did so without argument, leaving the still trembling human to stand his own ground as the Archdruid towered over him. "Who revealed our location to you?"
"T-the King! I swear!" he added at the look on the Worgen's face. "Please, you must come help! Darkshore is under attack!"
"What?!"
"The Horde, they—"
Before he could even finish, Synclair whirled, pointing at the three Void Elves. She didn't like what she was about to ask of them, but there wasn't much choice in the matter if the Horde had already made the first move.
"Get us there. Now!"
Aerilynn, Shalyvrias, and Raeyvin nodded, not a single smiling face amount them.
The champions stepped out of the rifts onto the shore of Rut'theran Village and gazed out across the water, taking in the chaos and carnage that had already broken out in Darkshore. Many of the structures were aflame, smoke filling the air, and countless citizens of Teldrassil were attempting to push back the Horde's assault. Synclair's eyes swept the coastline, and her heart sank as she took in the number of still, lifeless bodies already laying in the Horde's wake.
And approaching the coastline ...
Sylvanas' little pet, Nathanos, and her many Undead minions were preparing to set up catapults. Synclair growled. This wasn't a fight for Darkshore at all. The Horde were after Teldrassil.
Turning towards her companions, she could see varying levels of sadness and disgust on the Draenei's faces, but it was to the Void Elves in which her eyes were drawn. The raw hatred rippling from them filled her with confidence in the team Anduin had assembled. They may have been too late to enact the King's specific orders to prepare for the war, but they could still do everything in their powers to stop this moment from being a victory for the Horde.
Sylvanas will pay for this.
"Champions!" All eyes were instantly upon her. "Whatever you expected from today, it no longer matters. As of this moment, you all serve not only the Alliance, but also Æther. Do not disappoint us."
"Yes, Archdruid."
"Huntmaster! I want you over there immediately. Stick to the forests and make it rain."
"Of course." Dendrii bowed swiftly and took off to the edge of the docks, accepting the reins of one of the Night Elven hippogryphs from the Village flight master.
Satisfied, Synclair turned to Asteriel. "Farseer, you and Shalyvrias stay here and start evacuating the residence of Teldrassil."
"Yes, Archdruid."
"Aerilynn, get in their faces and take out as many of those catapults as possible. But stay nimble. I want you alive when this is all over."
"Understood." The young monk saluted before following in the footsteps of the Huntmaster, mounting a hippogryph and flying out over the water on route to Darkshore.
That only left ...
Stepping close to Raeyvin, Synclair looked right into the assassin eyes, blocking her view of the assault and demanding her attention. "And you," she snarled, hardly able to speak anymore from the anger coursing through her. "I want to see Horde bodies dropping."
A wicked grin spread across the Void Elf's face as she smoothly unsheathed her twin daggers, the blades shimmering in the light of the setting sun. "With pleasure."
As Raeyvin faded from view, slipping easily into the shadows of the World Tree, Synclair gazed back out across the water. So much death and destruction, and for what? What was the Warchief's plan here? What possible purpose could Teldrassil serve in her hands?
No longer able to hold back, Synclair sprinted to the docks and launched herself into the air, fur shifting to feathers as she flew towards the battle.
Author's Note: Stay tuned for the Horde side in part two!