"Soldiers of the Empire! Your time of glory has arrived this very day!" Legate Julius proudly proclaimed to the legions of men and auxillaries before him.
Surrounding him were lines of Trebuchet and archers firing at and over the walls of the city they were laying siege to and soon breach its very gates – where a battering ram was curretly trying to break the main gate. In return for their effort, the massive legions of the Empire were gifted with hundreds of sharp arrows, large ballista, and thundering sounds that spewed iron spheres; all of which devastated those who were unlucky to be in the aim of the defender's wrath.
Much to the annoyance of the Legate, the majority of the iron spheres were aimed at the trebuchets, decimating his siege engines. Then he saw a great ball of fire flying towards another line of siege equipment and engulfed them when it landed, the flames eating away the wood and melting the skin of its crew who screamed in agony. Those damn mages were becoming a major problem for his army, their blasted spells overpowering those in service of the empire.
His first assault sending in ladders to scale the towers ended in a failure when the ladders were destroyed by fire and ice. And from there on they periodically conducted spells that killed several dozens of his men every now and then, doing it safe from their beloved walls, the cowards even managed to down few wyvern riders. No matter, they would soon breach the gates and slaughter them all for their defiance.
Off course there was getting plunder and slaves from the city, he couldn't forget that. Prince Zorzal wanted fresh bodies to replace the old stocks, the prince promising him fortunes if he brought around 50 new female slaves. The younger the better the prince told him.
"The gates of our enemies are about to fall before our might! They may think they're safe from us behind their precious walls, but you are the soldiers of the Empire!" He waved his sword as the legions of soldiers started to get restless for the coming battle. "We have triumph over countless foes that dared to face us, the glory of our empire and might leading us to complete victory over the barbarians!" The Legate cried out.
That was when the gate was finally breached giving his forces the opening to take the city. "The gate has been breached! Charge sons of the Empire! Bring forth glory, slaves, and treasures for the Emperor and the Empire!" Julius roared pointing his blade at the destroyed gate as his troops let out a war cry, charging in forward like a horde of ravenous locust.
"Soldiers of the Alliance! We have endured many hardships and battles together, from the swarms of the undead scourge to the demonic powers of the Burning Legion, we fought with tooth and blood standing here today!" Turalyon yelled out as he rallied the defenders to the main gate of Stratholme to contain the invaders from enroaching the city. "As long as we stand together we will prevail! For the Alliance!" The High General screamed.
"FOR THE ALLIANCE!" The majority of the cities footmen, archers, riflemens, mages, rangers, and paladins gathered near the gatehouse roared as one as they formed defensive formation; regardless if they were humans, elves, or dwarves. Footmen armed with shields, spears, and swords took position in the front to bear the brunt of the charge while ranged units were at their rear to lend support safe from the enemy.
Turalyon looked upon the formation of Alliance soldiers from all walks of life, united in a common purpose to one another and the defence of the city. This sight wouldn't be too common several years ago where the old Alliance of Lordaeron was slowly falling apart before his eyes; that is until the Third War came when the invasion of the Scourge and the Burning Legion united them closer then ever. More mixed-race formation, and more humans becoming rangers and elves becoming paladins.
It was regrettable that such unity and friendship came at a heavy cost for everybody involved and the losses of several kingdoms. Loraderon's fall entering the forefront of his mind.
"Father I'm here." A voice spoke to him.
The High General looked to his left to see his son Arator running over to him. He could see his son dressed in his paladin outfit of robe and armor of yellow and black color, along with a greatsword held on his back and knife on each of his pauldron. Turalyon remembered the day how proud he and Alleria were when Arator became a Paladin of the Silverhand.
"Arator, good to see you unharmed." Relief filled Turalyon briefly.
"Same to you father." Arator replied. "Mother is rallying our ranged troops on the walls to keep withering down on the forces at the gate to slow them down."
"They breached the gate!" A footman warned.
"Never mind." Arator sighed.
"Son, I need you to get any remaining civilians to the secondary line of defence within the inner sections." Turalyon quickly ordered his son.
"Father, I can help."
"Sorry Arator, I need you to help defend the secondary defence in case I fail to contain them here. And besides your mother would kill me if I let you in the brunt of the battle." Turalyon slightly joked at the end to lift some tension of the coming battle.
Arator tried to protest but decided it was not the time to argue as he made his way to his destination.
The last of the orignal five of the Knights of the Silver Hand turned to face the destroyed gate as swarms of enemy soldiers charged forward. Despite the damage they were inflicting from the walls and cannon and guard towers, along with having mages and cannons; the relentless resistance they were putting up didn't seemed to cull down their numbers fast enough for his likings. The scouts reported some time ago of the enemy forces numbering over 50,000 from where they could see.
The odds didn't sound great in his opinion. The garrison on Stratholme was around 5000 troops of various races and roles, enough to defend the city and sending in a response force to intercept intruding undead or demons from the west of Lordaeron. They would able to hold out long, but they need a large reinforcements to relieve them soon least more lives are lost.
"Hold them here soldiers of the Alliance! We will stop their advance here and now!" Turalyon shouted. "First ranks, spears ready! All rifleman, archers, and mages ready to lend support."
"For the Light and the Alliance!" The defenders shouted.
Turalyon saw the first vanguard of the enemies crashing into the first rank of footmen. Many of them appeared to be orcs, humanoid pigs, and weird hybrid of trolls and humans. They crashed into the shields of the footmen where many were skewered by spears while others tried to ineffectively bash they way through. The paladin noted the orc look-a-likes appeared to be weaker than the ones of the Horde. The remaining ones were human but dressed in clothes like that of the Vrykul in Northrend or appeared to be a glorified bandit outfit.
Eventually the main bulk of the enemies, humans in unfamiliar armor rushing to the battle in a shield formation as they smashed into the formation, quickly descending into a bloody tug of war. Shields banged against each other, and spears thrusted through armor and flesh. The footmen of the Alliance proved to have the upperhand in the fight with their superior plate armoring and strength, resulting in many imperials stopped in their progress or killed with little damage dealt to the footmen.
Many of the footmen here were veterans of the 2nd and 3rd war and the following conflicts that erupted afterwards. So facing these strange humans, they were rather easy to deal with if it weren't for the never ending tides of them coming through the breached gate. The rifleman, archers, and mages provided needed range support for the defending footmen as dwarven rifleman firing together in a volley behind the safety of footmen's shield as dozens of enemies fell to the devastating rounds; archers of both humans and elves either let loose arrow volleys or hitting targets of opporuntity they deemed special, the arrows hitting the targets they were aimed at; while mages unleashed their devastating arcanic magics on them as fireballs, pillars of fire, ice arrow storm, and lighting strikes wiping out many within enemy lines. Meanwhile the priest and priestress were healing any wounds their allies suffered which allowed them to recover from majority of blows thrown at them.
"Well this is going rather well." Turalyon remarked as he saw several spearmen shove their foes to the ground and spearing them, then quickly blocking enemy strikes as they slowly pushed them back.
"It appears Turalyon." A female voice called out.
Turalyon turned around to see his wife Alleria coming over to him with several of her rangers. Just looking at her stopped his heart for a long moment. His elven wife always looked beautiful no matter the situation they were in or the grime and wounds she gathered. Her blue eyes were filled with mixture of relief and concern, relief that he was safe and concern on where their son was at.
"Turalyon, good to see you unharmed love." Alleria greeted. "Where's Arator?" Her face morphed to concern for her son.
"I sent him to the 2nd line of defence to escort remaining citizens there and help organize the defence over there." Turalyon replied, alleviating her fears.
"Thank goodness he is safe." The ranger captain sighed in relief.
"Same thing. But what's the situation on the walls?" Turalyon asked.
"The walls are secured from any scalings by the enemy. My rangers and rifleman are keeping them away from the walls." Alleria reported. "However the bad news is that the enemy have dozens of mounted drakes heading to the city."
Dragons… He only had several Griffon riders as majority were on other duties that took them out of the city. Turalyon was very well aware of how much mounted drakes could do as the orcish horde proved during the 2nd War; where orcs used enslaved red dragons to great effect on Alliance forces.
"They have aerial mounts!" One of the archers yelled out. Causing Turalyon and Alleria to look up to see the mentioned dragon mounts – now resembling proto-drakes – flying in fast and diving down to the city to inflict chaos.
All range troops diverted their support to the footmen and melee units to fend off the incoming aerial units. Many shots missed against drake-like creatures, though few landed hits but did not inflict enough damage to bring them down. The hostile proto-drakes used their claws and speed to pick up lone soldiers and drop them high in the air or simply plow through ranks of any unlucky individuals. Mages threw in their support against the proto-drakes, doing much better than the rifleman and archers as the draconic creatures started to fall down one by one. Guard and cannon towers lended help taking occasional shots against the creatures who flew near them.
One of the dying proto-drakes fell towards a group of Alliance soldiers locked in a shield struggle with enemies. The footmen were forced to evade the crashing corpse, but it left them and their defensive line vulnerable as the enemy viciously assaulted the hole in the alliance formation, trying to break through and overwhelm the defenders.
Then several dozens of centaurs charged through the gate armed with spears, the humans giving way for the charging horsemen to gallop at the shield wall of footmen. The spears of footmen stabbed dozens of centaurs causing many of them to whine in pain and bleeding badily, but many others succeded and bursted through the shield wall as the centaurs attacked the disorientated footmen. With a large portion of the enemy formation shattered, the imperial soldiers let out a warcry and continued their assault to show the barbarians the might of the Empire.
Several ogre-like monsters emerged through the gatehouse – each of them yielding a wooden club and foot outfitted in armoured boots –stomped their way to the alliance forces, iron clanking against the stone ground. The ogre monsters kicked away Alliance troops with their armoured boots or smashing unlucky individuals with their cubs. Many of the ogres soon fell under the brutal fire of ranged troops, the raw power of guns and precise skills of elven archers and the acranic powers of mages decimating them. But the ogres and centaurs done their job of breaking the lines to allow the legions of the Empire to swarm the defenders.
Turalyon smacked away a centaur, its body letting out a sickening crunch as bones and flesh ripped apart. He turned around to see a charging enemy calvary coming at him with a spear; which he narrowly avoided and swung his hammer against the officer's chest, sending him flying to the ground with a carved in bloodied chest armor. Another band of spearmen tried to gut him but destroyed their spear with ease and swinging it one more time to brutally end their life. He then called upon the powers of the light and healed several soldiers with minor injuries, allowing them back into the fight. Many soldiers became weary of attacking him, the knight with the hammer fighting as if he was some sort of apostle.
Alleria greeted any foes that dared to approach her from any angles with a arrow to the face. The blood elf ranger was one with the wind as she swiftly dispatched each of her foes one by one, the only sound she hear was her bow shooting through the air. For the invaders they were struck by her swiftness in the battle as she dodged every attack with such elegance and like a leaf on a wind firing her bow where her eyes stared. The Windrunner released her arrow straight into the eye of the last ogre, the creature roaring in pain as it grasped its bleeding eye as eye fluids mixed with blood leaked out of the wound. The ogre's misery ended when Alleria released another arrow to its throat. The ranger glanced to her left to see soldier with few others behind charging at her, so she fired off a arrow which shot through all of their mouths.
"They're heading to the 2nd line of defence!" A ranger cried out, catching Turalyon and Alleria's attention as they saw from a distance of hundreds of enemy soldiers with calvary marching away from the battle to the interior of the city. Additional roars brought their attention to the sky as they saw dozens more proto-drakes entering the city.
"Fall back! Fall back to the secondary defence!" Turalyon ordered as he and his wife and all remaining alliance forces fought their way to intercept the mass of Imperial troops intruding deeper into the city, and regroup with others deep within the city.
He really needed that reinforcement.
This universe takes place in a AU post-Warcraft 3 setting where events of the Third War and after went differently that altered the fate of certain characters, dead or alive. Like the Alliance Expedition of the Dark Portal returning home safely, a portion of Lordaeron still under Alliance control, Prince Arthas avoided the fate of becoming a Death Knight, and the Blood Elves still a member of the Alliance.