CHAPTER 1
The sun beat heavily down on the scorched earth of the Blasted Lands. In the distance strange green lightning cracked across the sky, but no storm winds blew. The pursuing thunder was drowned out by the rhythmic beating of six pairs of massive wings. The flapping was the only thing to stir the stagnant, dusty air that hung high above the fissured earth below. The wings belonged to six great gryphons who were carrying upon their backs each a rider dressed head to toe in riding leathers. It had been a long journey from the capital city of Stormwind from where they had departed and the gryphons' exceptional stamina was starting to wear thin. Finally, however, the gryphons' eagle eyes spotted their destination. The beasts banked in unison and spiralled down towards it in formation. Despite its towering brick walls the town below was bare, consisting entirely of two barracks and a handful of other scattered buildings, most of which were flanked by wooden scaffolding. However, despite its simplicity it seemed like an oasis among the desolate surroundings. The gryphons landed one after another directly outside the high stone walls of the keep where the riders then proceeded to dismount and unclip their saddlebags from the saddles. The bags were filled with armour and weapons given to them by the Stormwind army as well as several personal objects. As soon as the equipment was all fully retrieved the gryphons took off once more, the gusts caused by their wings kicking dust into the air. As the dust cleared it could be seen that huge wooden gates – the sole entrance through the thick outer walls – were already wide open and a heavily armoured man was standing in the gateway with his arms open and a welcoming smile on his face.
"Welcome" he grinned jovially. "Welcome to the Citadel of Nethergarde." While he spoke loudly, he was primarily addressing the man at the front who was clearly the leader. The leader was an older man with short blonde hair and a closely trimmed grey beard. His leadership was clear due to his tabard, a field of blue with a number of lighter bands running its length and emblazoned with an intricate golden lion. The tabard was more decorated than that of the soldiers behind him who instead wore the simple tabards of new recruits. Their fresh faces also betrayed their inexperience, especially contrasted against the grizzled lines on the face of their leader. The recruits consisted of a sly looking man simply named Jet with a particularly young-looking face and long black hair slicked back into a ponytail who stood alongside a plump dwarf with a thick, braided orange beard and a round nose known as Gavin Ironsight – named for his affinity for rifles. Behind them stood a docile night elf druid with golden eyes and a name nobody could pronounce as well as a pair of blue-skinned, curly-horned draenei twins named Mileena and Ari. Both sisters were clearly mages, but Ari was notably lacking the lower half of her left arm which had been replaced by a metal prosthetic crafted from the alien technology of the Naaru who gifted the draenei. The troops followed their host through the gates and into the keep. From here it was clear that the outer walls were newly built and most of the buildings were partially still under construction. The leader sent his soldiers to eat and replenish themselves at the newly build inn – of which their host was exceedingly proud – while the other two continued on into the barracks. The barracks was quiet and empty, which was an eerie sensation. The new recruits were being posted to the keep and would eventually stay in these halls, but for now the keep was seemingly completely unmanned.
"It's an honour to make your acquaintance," the host said once they had stopped at a wooden table draped with a map of the surrounding area. The map was minimalist, displaying only the most important features including Nethergarde Keep at the top while the Dark Portal sat ominously at the bottom. "I have heard many tales of your bravery during the Second War Max… can I call you Max?" Maximilian Stokeworth shook his head sternly in response to the question but said nothing. "Sorry sir, of course, Sir Maximilian it is. My name is General Hampton and I'm personally overlooking the rebuilding of Nethergarde Keep. I'm sure you have heard, but the keep took quite a beating during the Iron horde invasion a few years ago, however we won it back and I'm making it my mission to see it fully restored. We're rebuilding it to be even more heavily defended than before while also striving to increase the standard of life within the walls. Just because we're the first line of defense between Azeroth and evil otherworldly forces, that doesn't mean we can't be comfortable, am I right?" The General spoke quickly and never dropped his wide grin but Maximilian saw something twinkling in his eye. Was it excitement? Or perhaps mania? Maximilian nodded at his host's comment but didn't smile. He didn't like the man and had yet to speak a word to him, not that the General seemed to care as he continued to prattle on about his dreams for the future of Nethergarde Keep for what seemed like hours before finally getting to his point. "We were expecting some new recruits to be sent to station out here due to the fact that most of our guards either died to the orcs or were drafted to the Broken Shore but I was shocked and honoured to learn that they would be accompanied by such a decorated veteran as yourself – and a paladin to boo! If you don't mind my prying, to what do we owe the pleasure? There must be more pressing matters for someone of your rank." As Hampton asked the question his smile curled into something else. Maximilian thought he sensed something mocking in it. Perhaps the General had heard the many rumours and stories about his past. Maximilian had been a highly respected Paladin in the Second War thirty years ago, playing a crucial part in many pivotal battles. Although he wasn't as well-known as some of his peers, namely Uther, Turalyon and Tirion, Maximilian was still a formidable Paladin. He wielded the Light with a particular affinity in battle and quickly gained the title 'Warlocksbane' – which he had since dropped - due to his unparalleled ability to kill the Horde's warlocks. However, during one such battle, Maximilian had been injured badly and fell into a deep slumber for several weeks. When he finally did awaken he refused to take part in any battle, even once seemingly fully recuperated. Ever since then he had stayed in Stormwind performing menial guard duties. This earned him widespread mockery from many who knew his fall from grace, marring the reputation he had once earned for himself. No one really knew why he gave up fighting after that day and rumours had become aplenty.
Finally he spoke. "I volunteered to escort these recruits so that I could personally review the recuperation of this keep and report back to the King with my findings," he said, ignoring the General's smirk entirely. "The demons are invading Azeroth once more, and I believe it's only a matter of time before they try and access the Dark Portal once more. It is important to me that our defense against that eventuality is as solid as possible."
Hampton nodded and replied. "Hopefully everything is to your approval so far."
Maximilian hummed and raised his eyebrows. "Tomorrow I will conduct my full report. But for now I will join the recruits in the inn's tavern, it was a long journey and the dry heat of this Light-forsaken place has made me thirsty for ale."
With that he took his leave and exited the barracks. It hadn't just been the barracks, the whole town had an eerie silence to it. It was a ghost town, everyone who had once lived here was either dead or far away. The only people who lived here now were the builders contracted to reconstruct the keep. On his way he took a detour and passed by the Mage Tower. It seemed to be the only building in the town to not have been at all touched by the restoration effort, looking dilapidated and crumbled. The tower looked as if it must have been completely forgotten, he thought to himself. However, as he got closer a shadowy robed figure could just barely be seen through the paneless window. The figure was pacing back and forth in the darkness. Maximilian drew closer to the tower but he couldn't make out any further details, was the man alone? What was he doing in there?
"The tavern is this way!" called Hampton, who must have followed him out of the barracks. Was he keeping track on him? Maximilian's head had whipped around to see who was shouting to him and now he turned back to the tower only to find the window empty. He wasn't entirely sure if the General had scared off whoever was inside the building or perhaps if there had never been anyone there in the first place. Maximilian was very wary from his travels, so hallucination wouldn't be a fully implausible. When the paladin turned away from the tower once more Hampton had also vanished.
The silence of the town was briefly interrupted immediately as the inn's tavern door swung open. The tavern was bustling. All of the builders who had been slaving all day in the blistering heat spent the better part of each night drinking in the tavern before heading back to work early the next morning. A fire roared in the hearth and the air was filled with ale-fuelled banter and the scent of warm food. The draenei twins sat quietly at their own table, sipping Darnassian wine, while the other three were far more boisterous at their table across the room. The men were drinking steins of dwarven ale and picking at a roast pig that had kindly been offered to them on the house. All five of the recruits stopped what they were doing and watched silently as Maximilian entered the room. He walked directly to a stool at the bar and as soon as he had ordered his own drink the soldiers went back to what they had been doing.
"This pork does not taste natural" said the night elf, turning up his nose as he chewed a cut. "I hope they haven't butchered on of those felboars we saw wandering the wasteland on our way here and fed that to us."
"I don't know," said Jet "but I kind of like it." The meat had a strong spiciness to it, although strangely it was clear no spice had been added during its preparation. The pig had been offered to them by the innkeeper as a welcoming gift, they had also all been offered a night on the house staying in a room at the inn before they moved into the barracks the following night.
"Aye," concurred Gavin as he washed down a mouthful of meat with a gulp of ale. "Meat's meat, laddie. You stuck up elves think yer too good for our wee mortal food." The comment was met with a look from the elf and a chuckle from Jet. The three had enlisted in the Stormwind army at the same time and gone through boot camp together where they had become fast friends. "What about the twins over there, lads?" winked Gavin with uncharacteristic softness so as to not be heard. "Either of you ever been with a woman from space?" He grinned before continuing. "I reckon I fancy me chances, perhaps I'll go say hello after I finish this drink."
"You said that three drinks ago." Sighed Jet. He knew too well that his friend was all talk and no walk.
"Indeed, and I wouldn't be too sure regarding your chances," agreed the elf, seeking revenge for the earlier jab. "Does your head even reach their thighs?" The table erupted in laughter.
"They're laughing at us, I know it." Ari said, eyeing up the laughing men and twisting her wineglass stem in her hands.
"Who cares?" rebuked her sister who gestured to the pig that they, too, had been offered. "We should eat, who knows what tomorrow holds, we might need our strength."
The other draenei pushed the roast pig away from her and said with a look of disgust, "I can't eat."
Milaana glanced at the food briefly before agreeing then turned back to her sister. "But there's nothing to be nervous about. You've proven yourself to be plenty capable otherwise you wouldn't be here."
"I know I passed boot camp, but I've still never been in a real fight. I have no idea how this thing will hold up." Ari said, flexing her mechanical hand. The metal was a dull grey with strange gems embedded in parts that glowed dully. Her sister took the metal hand in her own and squeezed it tight. Although Ari had no feeling in the appendage, she appreciated the sentiment.
"You'll be fine. I will always look after you." Milaana promised, staring into her sisters illuminated eyes. "Besides, who knows if we'll ever need to fight? The Burning Legion has found other ways to enter Azeroth and the Iron Horde is defeated. The Dark Portal lies dormant."
Ari sighed. "You're right. Anyway, I'm tired and sick of this place, let us head to bed."
With that the sisters headed upstairs to their shared room in the inn. The beds were soft and warm, an upgrade from the cots they ntended to stay in in the following months. Not long after Jet also retired to his own room, followed by the night elf and a reluctant Gavin – who would have happily drank all night but chose bed over the option of drinking with the lone paladin who still sat at the bar. Maximilian was, in fact, the last remaining patron as the tavern closed.
"Last chance for the complimentary meal before the kitchen closes for the night," smiled the young barmaid as she polished a glass with a stained cloth, "I promise you'd love it."
Maximilian shook his head has he knocked back the end of his final beer. "No, thank you." he said as he stood up from his stool and palmed several golden coins onto the counter - payment for the drinks him and his people had imbibed that night. "My appetite seems to have escaped me. It has been replaced by suspense."
The barmaid frowned and asked simply. "Suspense?"
"There is a day that I have been waiting for for over thirty years. I've dreamed of it, and had nightmares about it. And if my theory is correct, that day might be tomorrow." Maximilian left the tavern and headed upstairs to his own room where he lay down to sleep. But that night he didn't sleep at all.