CHAPTER 1
Arthas was leaning against the railing of the Golden Heart, sailing back to Lordaeron from Northrend. Arthas had recently killed the sadistic demon Mal'Ganis, leader of the undead scourge, using the fabled runeblade Frostmourne.
A brisk, frigid wind had locked up most of the crew in their warm cabins, but Arthas was taking no notice of it. He had decided he liked the cold. It made him stronger, and think clearer.
He gazed at the sword, gripped quite tightly in his right hand. His hand was sweaty, and his knuckles were white. He suddenly weakened his grip on the sword, relaxing his hand. He knew the sword was slowly taking him over. Half of him wanted to the untold power of the sword. It wanted him to lead the scourge into war, and take over the world. He knew it was very well possible, but only with the sword. The other part of him wanted his old life back. He wanted to see his father again, he wanted to be with Jaina again. Oh how he missed Jaina.
He raised the sword, gazing at the glowing runes on the side. He ran his hand along the sword, almost caressing it. He could feel the runes empowering him. "My precious," he murmured to nobody. He was staring at a single rune. He had no clue what that symbol represented, but he couldn't take his eyes off of it.
His thoughts went to Jaina. He pictured the two of them, together, in the bed of the royal bedroom in the palace of Lordaeron. Their arms were around each other, and their lips were locked. In his fantasy, Arthas noticed he was holding Frostmourne with his right hand, though Jaina was making no notice of it.
Arthas gasped in fear, dropping the sword onto the deck of the ship.
Half of himself was screaming to pick it up. The other half would not allow that. Arthas, in total panic, kicked at the sword, completely out of fear. The sword clattered across the deck, and Arthas soon dived after it, but he was a second too late as the sword skittered under the railing, and into the freezing sea beneath him.
Arthas screamed in agony. For nearly a minute, he forgot everything about himself, and pictured himself jumping over the side of the ship in search of the sword. Heck, he wanted to. He was gripping the railing tightly. He knew jumping after the sword would be suicide, but he still couldn't put the thought out of his mind.
After a few breaths, he began to feel the cold around him. He started shivering violently, but still couldn't bring himself to move. He wrenched his arms away from the railing, and forced himself to move one foot in front of the other. He collapsed onto his bed from exhaustion.
He awoke early the next morning, after having suffered a horrible nightmare, where he had jumped off the ship in search of his sword. Though he was now awake, the nightmare was not over. The sword was talking to him. It had done so before, but Arthas ignored it. Until now. The sword was telling him to find it. He felt so compulsed to jump over the side of the ship. It was almost as if he was controlled, but he managed to hold himself back until the horror died down. He lay in his bed a while, before getting up and strolling around his cabin a while. He soon returned to his bed.
He woke up again. It was quite late in the morning. He cautiously sat up, and found he had much more energy. He got out of his bed, and walked through his large suite at the back of the ship to his own small kitchen, where he began making tea. He rubbed a warm, damp cloth over his face which refreshed him more. He sat down at the table, and twiddled his thumbs. His thoughts drifted to Frostmourne, but he forced himself to think about the future he would have the Jaina. How he missed her.
CHAPTER 2
The ship docked in a port on the northern shores of Tirisfal Glades. He had been at this specific harbour many times before. It was a decent town, dedicated to hosting the part of the naval fleet that rested here in between wars. Arthas was so happy to see his homeland again. The last effects of the sword were fading from his body, and he felt reinvigorated to return to his home life, to pick up where he left off.
Arthas slowly walked down the gangplank off the ship. He stepped onto the dock, and was greeted by many people, including soldiers dock workers, and some civilians, who all welcomed him warmly. However, he still had to return to the city, to properly celebrate.
He was offered a carriage, but instead chose a single horse to get to the city. It would be much faster. It would be only a few hours by horse. He kicked the horse's side, and it began galloping off. During the trip, Arthas recounted various memories of the forests, including the many times he and Jaina came there to be alone.
As he arrived at the front gates of the city, his guards immediately started cheering for him. They opened the gate, as he slowed his horse, and jumped off. He thanked the guards, and entered. Upon entering the city, he was greeted with a huge gathering of people, probably most of the population of the city. He was a hero to them. He had saved their land, and their lives. He slowly walked by, waving and looking at as many people as he could. Rose petals fluttered down from overlooking balconies, as he made his way to the palace. He walked slowly, allowing as many people as possible to see him, and reach out toward him. He brushed his hands along others'. Finally, when he entered the palace courtyard, the throngs of people lessened, and he was greeted with guards, who lead the way into the palace. He picked up his pace as he made his way to the throne room.
"Arthas! You've returned!" Terenas shouted, upon seeing his son for the first time in months. He slowly stood up, on his aged, failing limbs. He walked down from the raised stage of the throne, and walked toward his son.
Arthas walked over to him. He reached out to his father.
"Arthas? What are you?- oh," he said, as he son embraced him. He hugged back.
The two embraced for nearly a full minute before stepping back.
"I'm so happy to be back here again, father." Arthas said, smiling.
"Everyone is," his father replied.
That night, a huge celebration was held in Lordaeron, in honour of Arthas' success in saving his kingdom. Arthas spoke with many people. He shared tales of his success, with eager listeners. They loved him. Though he was overjoyed to be back home, there was still something missing. Jaina. He would go visit her tomorrow.
Unfortunately, not all had returned quite to normal. Andorhal and Stratholme, two big cities, had both been wiped out. Food was quite a bit more expensive, as so many farms had been tainted, and nearly every single one torched, in an effort to stop the plague. Luckily, food and supplies were being brought up from Stormwind, and its surrounding forests of Elwynn to keep the crippled kingdom alive.
The next morning, he immediately left for Dalaran. It took most of the day to get there. By the time he reached the outskirts, the sun was already descending over the opposite horizon.
He walked briskly through the wide, clean, streets of the glorious mage city. Even down here, people knew of his success. Quite a few people stopped to greet him, thank him, and begin conversations with him. It took nearly another hour to make it through the city.
He finally reached Jaina's quarters. She lived in the dormitory of one of the bigger magic schools in the city. Security around the campus was tight, but they knew Arthas, and let him in. After a brief walk, he arrived at the door to Jaina's quarters. He stared at Jaina's door for a few moments. He could barely believe he was about to see Jaina again. After a few deep breaths, he knocked. After a pause, the door opened. Jaina was standing there, wearing a crimson bathrobe, laced with gold. She stood there a few moments, curiously, then her eyes lit up. "Arrthas!" she screamed.
The two embraced for a few minutes, then separated.
"I thought you died!" she said, still excited.
"I'm so sorry!" he gasped. "I was so stupid!"
"Arthas, it's okay," she interrupted. "You did what you felt was right. It's over now. Here, come inside."
Jaina lead Arthas into the large room. "Sit down, there's news I need to tell you," she said, suddenly very seriously.
Arthas took a seat in a posh armchair.
"What happened?" he asked.
Jain took a seat in a couch facing Arthas.
"My father died, and I inherited Theramore isle," she said flatly.
"I'm so sorry.." Arthas said slowly.
"It's fine. I never really knew him. The reason I'm sad is because I have to leave Dalaran. And the Horde is thick in the area, so I'll be leading battles often."
"Oh.. " Arthas was struck. He had always picture the two of them getting married and living in Lordaeron. But everything had suddenly changed. Jaina had to move to Theramore Isle, and Arthas had to stay in Lordaeron. "When are you leaving?" he asked slowly.
"I.. don't know. There's a chance I may not even have to," she said.
"What?"
"I have no idea how politics work. There's no way I could govern that city. And there's a whole line of people waiting for leadership of Theramore that want the position badly. I.. I just want to honour my father's wish."
Arthas did not know how to respond. "I'm sure you'll make the right choice."
"That's just the thing. I don't think either is the right choice."
"Then what do you want?"
Jaina looked at the floor. "I don't know."
"Come on, Jaina. You know what you want to do," Arthas coaxed.
Jaina looked up at him, and smiled. Arthas stood up, and walked over to Jaina, and sat down next to her.
"You know what you want to do," Arthas repeated, quieter. "Please don't leave," he pleaded.
Jaina looked deep into his eyes. She leaned forward, and the two locked lips, putting their arms around each other.
FIVE YEARS LATER
CHAPTER 3
"Arthas! Please don't leave!" Jaina begged.
Arthas frowned.
"Arthas, your kids need you," Jaina continued. She looked Arthas straight in the eyes. "I need you."
Arthas sighed. "If I don't see this through, there's a good chance the Horde may again rise up. This could be the Alliance's only chance to suppress them once and for all."
"What if something happened to you?" she asked piercingly.
Arthas didn't respond immediately. "There are millions of people that expect me to be there. We're already taken out Thunder Bluff, The Echo Isles, Kezan, and every other big Horde settlement. All the Horde have gathered in Orgrimmar for one final stand. If I'm not there, we may not win."
"Even if I die, you will still be here to look after the kids," he added on.
Jaina sighed. "You're right. You should go to Orgrimmar."
"I'm sorry," Arthas said.
"Don't be. Just go, and come back."
"I will."
"When do you have to go?"
"Whenever I can. Orgrimmar is already besieged. Everyone there is waiting for me to start. Even King Varian won't do anything without me being there as well." Arthas though for a bit. "The sooner I leave, the sooner I can get back. I'll leave early tomorrow morning."
Arthas packed lightly. He would get to Orgrimmar with the use of a goblin zeppelin. If all went according to plan, he would be gone for no more than a few days, maybe a week. If things were bad, then two.
He ascended the tower to where the zeppelins were docked. He was wearing thin chainmail armour beneath his thin clothes. It was scorching hot in Durotar, and he did not want to overdress. He had a porter behind him, holding a trunk carrying Arthas' gear, including heavier armour, clothes, and other basic necessities. The moment he stepped onto the platform alongside the deck of the zeppelin, he was greeted by various goblin crew members all wishing him luck. He knew not a single one of them cared whether he survived or not. They were just hoping for a raise.
He crossed the gangplank, onto the deck of the zeppelin. Instantly, a gobbling dressed in a formal blue uniform ran up to him.
"Welcome aboard you majesty!" he reached up, grabbing Arthas' hand, and shook in violently. "I'm Captain Cloudkicker! I'll make sure you get to and from Orgrimmar safe and sound!" he said loudly.
"Thank you, captain," Arthas replied. "Could you please show me to my room?"
"Certainly! The captain shouted back. He turned over, and shouted at another crew member. "Get us sailing! Now! Our passenger is aboard!" He turned around again, and walked briskly down into the cabin.
Arthas followed, and his porter followed him. The captain lead the two along a series of winding corridors, all crafted crudely by nonetheless soundly, out of planks and metal. He finally arrived at a door, and opened it, allowing Arthas to step through first. Arthas scanned the cabin. The construction job was much the same as the rest of the zeppelin, but bigger compared to the cramped hallways. There was a large bed on one side of the room, and a small kitchen on the other; there was also a table in the centre with a few chairs. The porter followed Arthas inside, and Captain Cloudkicker followed immediately behind, leaving the door open.
"Where shall I put your bags, your majesty?" the porter asked.
"Uh, just next to the bed, if you would. Thanks," Arthas replied.
"The kitchen is fully stocked with some of the finest food in the Eastern Kingdoms," the captain bragged. He pointed to the far end of the room. "There's a nice balcony, if you want a view out behind the ship." He then turned to face the wall right beside the door. "Press that button," he said pointing at a large red button embedded in the wall, "if you need service, and someone will show up."
"Thank you," Arthas said. "How long will the flight be?"
"Eight hours and thirty four minutes," the captain said formally.
"Excellent," Arthas replied. He turned to his porter. "You're dismissed now," he said, then turned back to the captain. "Show my porter to his own room. Thank you."
The captain lead the porter out the door, forgetting to close it behind him. Arthas walked over and closed it himself.
Arthas wandered over to his pack, and removed some books from it. He carried them to the table, and placed them down. He picked out a book Jaina had packed for him. It was a mystery taking place in the goblin city Booty Bay. Jaina always loved mystery novels, and had recently been telling Arthas about that specific one. Arthas took the book, and opened it.
Within minutes, the zeppelin was underway to Durotar.
Arthas was avidly reading the book, and was a good portion into it, when there was a knock at the door. Without even waiting a moment, Captain Cloudkicker walked in. "Hi, your majesty!" he said jovially. "Is there anything you need, anything I can get for you?"
"No thank you, I'm fine," Arthas replied impatiently.
"A'ight, lemme know if you change your mind!" the captain strolled out, once again forgetting to close the door. Once again, Arthas got up, and did it himself.
After a few more hours of reading, Arthas' eyes were getting tired, so he decided to stroll around for about. He wandered about, before arriving up on deck.
The upper deck of the ship itself was pretty relaxed. Goblins were lying around on the deck. Some were playing cards, some chatting, some just lying, with their hands behind their head. It was surprising cool, both from the wind, and from the shade given by the balloon. He breathed a sigh of relief when the overexcited captain did not run over and pester him.
Arthas walked slowly to the bow, and looked off of it. The ship was over the open ocean. He could see the faded reddish haze of Durotar in the distance, as well as the various rise and falls farther off that created the mountains occupying Kalimdor. Slightly to the right of that, he could see a very faint outline he could only assume was the famous world tree Teldrassil, though it may have been his imagination.
Looking to his right, he could see far in the distance to chaotic whirlpool that was the Maelstrom, however the colossal portal through worlds looked like a mere speck in the distance.
He stood there, gazing at the wondrous sight for a few minutes.
"Hey, your majesty! Enjoying the view, huh?" came an disdained voice from behind.
Arthas turned slowly, trying to be polite. "Yes, it is quite nice."
"It's nearing lunch. As you're the guest of honour today, you should be there," the captain said formally, however his voice was tainted with childish hopefulness.
Arthas wanted to refuse, mostly out of spite against the frustrating captain, but realizing he actually was quite hungry, he accepted.
"A'ight!" the captain said excitedly. "Be in the mess hall in twenty minutes!" he walked off hurriedly.
Arthas stood gazing at the view for a few more minutes, before returning to his cabin to prepare for lunch.
As it turned out goblins were actually, pretty okay chefs. Lunch was composed of mashed potatoes, large, marinated steaks, and steamed vegetables coated with butter. There were quite a few others in the dining room as well, including his porter, and Captain Cloudkicker.
The goblins were very curious about Arthas' life. He told them stories of how he killed Mal'Ganis, of how he met Jaina, and of what was happening between the Horde and Alliance. The goblins paid close attention to every word. The porter appeared to be paying attention as well, but Arthas assumed it was more for being polite than out of curiosity.
After lunch, Arthas returned to his cabin. He guessed the flight was a little more than half over, as he heated some water in a kettle for tea.
Upon sipping the crudely made goblin mug, he opened the novel to the page he had marked earlier. However, he was starting to become increasingly anxious for the war, and suddenly an over-exaggerated thief story in Booty Bay seemed like a frivolous, petty story to Arthas.
Once again, the door burst open, and the captain walked in without a second of warning.
"Hey, your majesty! How was the lunch?" he asked jovially.
"It was quite nice, thank you," Arthas replied.
"The stories were great!" the captain interrupted.
Arthas was just about to respond when the captain continued. "Just between you and me, you made some of them up, didn't you," he said quieter with a smug grin.
"No, honest to light, they're all true." Arthas said.
"Come on man, we both know some of the more .. secret .. parts where made up," the captain said, winking at Arthas while he said 'secret'.
"Okay, I exaggerated the parts about me and Jaina, but the story about Frostmourne is all true." Arthas admitted.
"I knew it!" the goblin shouted successfully, then quickly calmed down. "If you need something to do, some of us are playing cards in the lounge. We're always looking for others to play with us."
"Um, sure, I guess," Arthas said, "But isn't there work for you to do?"
The captain laughed quickly. "Well yeah, but it doesn't matter. We're fine."
Arthas knew not to tell a goblin to do work, so instead he followed Captain Cloudkicker through the hallways into the lounge. He was greeted by warm welcomes from all sorts of goblin crew members, most of which were playing cards.
The dealer was just about to hand Arthas some cards, when he grabbed them back "Hold on a moment. You've got coin, right?"
Arthas hesitated for a few moments. He was just about to reach into his pocket, when the captain announced "Hey, Copperhinge! You're not actually going to make his majesty gamble, are you?"
"Nah! I was just kidding." he stammered, then gave the cards to Arthas.
CHAPTER 4
Several hours passed, when the door flew open. "Captain! We're landing in ten!" a goblin shouted from the entrance, before running off again.
Instantly all the goblins dropped their cards and ran out of the room. Arthas got up a bit more slowly, and walked to his cabin. His porter was waiting at the door. "Your gear, your majesty."
"Ah yes, thank you." Arthas replied. He lead the porter into his room. The porter scrambed around grabbing various small pieces Arthas had unpacked for the journey. Arthas waited patiently, until the porter heaved the large case over his shoulder, "All ready sir."
Arthas nodded and lead him out onto the deck.
There were goblins scrambling around, preparing for the landing. Arthas wandered to the side of the ship, and looked over the railing, to the ground far below. It was Durotar, all right. In the distance he could see the small mountain range that hosted the hostile, menacing city Orgrimmar. Below them were endless rows of tents, dwarf and gnome artillery, and stockpiles of weapons, armour, and explosives. The camp was huge. There were hundreds of thousands of Alliance soldiers, of all races. There were barricades, towers, and makeshift walls all around the colossal camp, most of them aimed toward Orgrimmar.
The zeppelin started descending rapidly, causing Arthas to subtly lose him balance. He could see below him a series of towers, where at least a dozen other zeppelins were waiting.
"Pretty neat, isn't it?" Captain Cloudkicker asked from behind. Arthas jumped, then turned to face the captain.
"Uh, yeah."
"My ship doesn't come to Durotar often, but either way, I wasn't expecting this. You guys have pretty much already won."
"We haven't won yet. That's why I'm here." Arthas said, trying to sound polite.
"Well, let me tell you, with that army down there, you're going to have one easy job."
"Yeah, let's hope so."
Suddenly, a huge explosion rocked the ship. Many passengers fell to the ground, including the captain. Arthas managed to grab hold of the railing, and stay upright.
The captain quickly got up. Meanwhile the ship was starting to descend alarmingly fast.
"Fire!" a goblin voice called from somewhere near the stern
"The balloon!" another called.
The captain ran off. Arthas looked up, to see a rapidly growing fire on the side of the zeppelin's balloon. The ship was descending even faster than before. At this rate of descent, nobody would survive the impact with the ground.
Another explosion was heard. Arthas looked ahead, to see the entire bow of the ship was was falling apart, in a sea of fire. Arthas could do nothing but hold on, and hope he survived.
He looked down. The ground was rapidly approaching. He could make out figures, some goblin, some human, as well as many other races, running around, trying to set up a net, to catch the crippled zeppelin. He looked up, to see the entire balloon was wrinkling, and the fire had almost entirely engulfed it.
He looked over the railing again. The net was butting stretched taut. But even if the net absorbed the impact, the balloon would crush the fuselage.
One figure stood on the far side of the net, on the very tip of one zeppelin dock. His black armour, and pale face with evil blue eyes indicated he was a death knight.
Death knights had been working for the scourge for decades, but after Mal'Ganis died, they were able to break free from the control of the scourge, and now most worked for the Alliance and Horde.
The zeppelin had been falling for barely a minute, but was already moments away from impact. Arthas was staring at the death knight, wondering what he was doing, just standing there. The death knight calmly raised his arms, and instantly, a huge wave of evil energy engulfed Arthas. Moments later, he appeared on the dock, right next to the death knight. Arthas turned around, to see a huge explosion, as the zeppelin tore through the netting and hit the ground. A blast wave echoed past, and a ball of fire spread outwards and upwards.
"Death grip," the death knight said, oblivious to the disaster happening behind him. "Never thought I'd use it for good. Either way, welcome to Durotar, your majesty."
"Thank you, you saved my life," Arthas stuttered, his eyes wide. "But.. who are you?"
"Koltira Deathweaver. Few have heard of me, other than fellow death knights."
"Well thank you, and do you know where I can find the general?"
"I'll lead you to him." The death knight walked into the the passageway that lead to ground level. Arthas followed closely. He tried not to look back at the wreck. He had to focus on what was yet to come. What was yet to come?
CHAPTER 5
Upon arrival at ground level, many people ran over to Arthas. Most were asking about the crash.
The death knight lead Arthas through the crowd, and past hundreds upon hundreds of tents, and piles of gear, supplies, medical equipment, weapons, and armour. An alarm was blaring, and soldiers, engineers, and various other people ran past the two, trying to get to the crash.
Finally, the death knight arrived at a tent, much bigger than the others. There were two soldiers guarding it, but parted upon seeing the king of Lordaeron, greeting him.
Arthas entered.
"Hello, Arthas!" King Varian Wrynn greeted him warmly.
"Hello Varian. Good to see you again." The two shook hands. "Firstly, could you explain what happened with the zeppelin?"
"Ah yes, I sincerely apologize about that, but there was absolutely nothing we could've done. Here sit!" Varian dropped himself into a chair, and pointed at one facing it.
Arthas sat down in the chair indicated by Varian. "So, what happened?"
"Some orcs in Orgrimmar saw the incoming zeppelin, and fired at it. They were too far to reach it with normal seaforium, so they sent some small guided rockets at it. Our ground guns were able to bring down the majority of them, but two managed to skip past." Varian paused a moment. "Either way, you're alive. We can begin to discuss the invasion."
"Firstly, I recommend you promote Koltira Deathweaver; he saved my life back there."
"Certainly! Now to business. As you know, the cliffs around Orgrimmar make it completely untraversable. There are three exits to Orgrimmar, the north, into Az'shara, the west, into the Ragefury canyon, and the main one at the south. With an earlier mission, we took out the bridge with explosions, blocking off that exit. Additionally, the night elves in Az'shara have besieged the north, blocking of that exit.
"Excellent, yes. Now how do we go about formally invading the city?"
"We have cannons with a much larger range than anything Orgrimmar has. We will tear down the wall without any sort of defence from the city. There is, however, a slight problem."
"And that is?"
"The Dranosh'ar Blockade. It's a lose lose situation. If we send infantry to take the blockade, we will be at the mercy of Orgrimmar's cannons. But we can't immediately take on the wall without first taking the blockade."
"However you have an alternative, right?"
Varian paused momentarily, then frowned. "Other than completely overwhelming them, no."
"What about the dwarven artillery?" Arthas asked.
"Even with those, the orcs have access to seaforium, thanks to some bastard goblin mercenaries."
"Could we not use the the zeppelins to take them down from the air?"
"Yes, and no. The zeppelins you saw at the ports were only transport zeppelins, bringing in our troops. We could potentially modify them for dropping explosives, but they would be inefficient, and also, we would be at the mercy of those rockets that nailed your ship."
"Is there no alternative?"
"There is one small opportunity, with a downside." Varian announced. "There is a cave network under Orgrimmar known as the Ragefire Chasm. Though it was once under the control of a cult, it is now abandoned. If we somehow got access to the network, we could maintain a firm grasp right form the centre of Orgrimmar."
"The downside?" Arthas inquired.
"Getting to the caves in the first place. The dwarves and gnomes have been tunnelling north for nearly a week now. It'll be another few before they are successful, and we do not have time like that. Our food supplies can only last us a fortnight."
"Then that leaves overwhelming as our only opportunity."
Suddenly, the tent flap opened and a large, dark skinned man walked in.
He was just about to yell something at Varian, when he noticed Arthas. He paused briefly before speaking. "Greetings, your majesty. Good to see you're alive. I'm Justin Bartlett, one of the generals here." He reached out his hand, which Arthas shook firmly. He then turned to Varian. "I've come to inform you that the dwarven artillery is ready for battle. Construction of the last few is complete."
"Very well," King Varian said.
"How many people are in this camp?" Arthas asked the general.
He responded confidently, "Nearly one hundred fifty thousand. That's just about the size of Orgrimmar itself, though I assume that would have just about doubled, taking in other Horde refugees."
"And of Dranosh'ar blockade?"
"The Horde brings a garrison into and out of there on a daily basis. Usually there are about ten to twenty thousand."
"Are there any other Horde settlements in the area?"
"There were. We have taken over almost every single one, however. Most of the Horde fled to Orgrimmar, making the job easy. Durotar is almost entirely ours, obviously except for the city. Additionally, many Horde have settled in the Barrens, especially the Crossroads," the general said.
"Interesting," Arthas said slowly, thinking. After a pause, he continued. "I believe I know what we can do."
Varian and the general both looked at him.
"Varian, you said earlier that we could not simply invade the blockade because it was in range of Orgrimmar's cannons."
"Yes, that is true."
"What if we were to take down the blockade with long range artillery while staying well outside the range of Orgrimmar's cannons?" Arthas asked.
"That could very well work," the general said, nodding to himself. "In addition, most of the blockade is melee, they'd be forced to come out and charge us."
"Which would make things even better for us," Arthas added.
"Excellent. General, when should we begin the attack?" Varian asked.
"Why not right now? It's getting late, but that doesn't matter at all," the general responded. "Our food supplies are strictly limited, and we need to act as fast as we possibly can."
"Wait." Varian commanded, as the general was about to stand up.
"Yes, your majesty?"
"Send only artillery. We don't need to lose footmen for no good reason. And plus, we're not taking over the blockade, just destroying it."
"Yes, sir," the general said, and left the tent.
"Okay, we will head out into battle immediately," Varian said to Arthas. "Do you require anything?"
"Yes. I need new armour, and another sword. It was all in the zeppelin when it went down."
"Ah yes, I'll lead you to the main armoury. Follow me," Varian said.
Arthas followed Varian to leave the tent. They walked for several minutes, before arriving at some large wooden buildings. There were furnaces, anvils, and large piles of bars of various metals. A sturdy clinking came from the blacksmith hammering away at some iron. The blacksmith saw them, and walked over. He was a tall, slightly overweight man, who was wearing an apron, and covered in soot.
"Can I help you?" he asked, then noticed Arthas. "Your majesty! Welcome to Durotar! Everyone though you had died in the zeppelin crash."
Arthas chuckled. "Yes, I can assume why. Anyways, I need a full suit of armour, and a new sword," he said. Though he was a paladin, finding, enchanting, and blessing a hammer was out of the question.
"I will go help prepare the artillery for battle. It should take at least a few hours, you won't miss the action," Varian announced, and briskly walked off.
After a few moments, the blacksmith frowned. "It will take too long to make you some armour from scratch, but I may have some already that will fit you." He turned around, and walked into the building behind him.
Arthas leaned against a large crate containing who knows what. He looked around at the various tools scattered around the ground around the small blacksmith station.
After a few minutes, the blacksmith emerged form the building.
"Scalemail," he announced, "sorry, don't have any plate armour." He handed the firm metal tunic to Arthas, who carefully put it over his thin shirt. He leaned back and forth, weighing it.
"Yes, this'll do," Arthas anounced. "And shoulder plates, vambraces, and a helm?"
"Certainly," the blacksmith said dismissively, and walked back into the building. He once again emerged later, carrying two heavy shoulder plates.
It took nearly an hour before Arthas was fully armoured for battle. He was given a sword which he quite seemed to like.
"Thank you very much, uh.."
"Tarev McNalta," the blacksmith interjected.
"Thank you, Tarev," Arthas said. "Also, could you tell me how to get to the front lines?"
The blacksmith pointed in a direction. "Just go that way, and you'll make it to where they're readying the artillery."
Arthas walked off, thanking the blacksmith. He thought ahead to the battle he would soon lead. He was sweating, both from being nervous, and from the late afternoon sun (which was still quite hot).
Arthas passed by one final row of tents, before arriving in the open deserts of Durotar. Arthas gasped at the sight in front of him, though it was not the desert. In front of him, in perfect rows, all chugging with life, were many hundreds of dwarven siege engines. Each had a few gnomes working some final preparations on it. It was magnificent. He began to walk to the front of the lines of machines, to find Varian. He was greeted by most of the gnomes.
It took a few minutes to reach the front lines. Arthas was still sweating, both from being nervous and the heat. Upon his arrival, Varian greeted him. "Arthas! Good to see you; now that you're here, we can make final preparations before heading out.
He lead Arthas to one machine that was nearly twice the size of the rest, at the very front of the lines of the group. Varian climbed up, and Arthas followed. They both entered the small, cramped, cockpit of the machine, where they were greeted by a gnome.
"Hello your majesties, ready for some fun?" he grinned.
"Yes, let's start this shit." King Varian said.
"A'ight!" he responded. He grabbed a microphone, and spoke into it. "Stand by!"
The gnome then proceeded to flip various switches on some control panels in front of him, and soon the engine began to growl to life. A faint roaring was heard, as several hundred other engines began revving.
"Okay, let's go!" Arthas said.
The gnome responded by shoving a lever forward. The machine instantly began to lurch and creep forward, soon followed by a few hundred other of the tanks, right behind.
"It will be about ten minutes before we enter range of the blockade," King Varian announced. "By that time, it will be past seven o'clock. The Horde will just have brought in a fresh new pile of guards."
"We'll still win," Arthas said confidently.
Varian laughed. "Yes, of course. Anyways, how should we go about this?"
"As I said, just within range to pick the blockade down with our artillery, but not close enough that we're within range of Orgrimmar's cannons. Best case scenario, we lure out the Horde, which will make it even easier."
"Brilliant. I don't think there's anything I can add. This should be very simple. Now, to think ahead. What do we do immediately after destroying the camp?"
"I think we should set up a new forward command there, and bring as much of the main camp up there was we can. We should get as close as we can to Orgrimmar without entering range of their cannons."
"Fair enough," Varian said. "But what if Orgrimmar sends a larger force to push us back?"
"Then we fall back to our main camp, and regroup there, before throwing our entire force at them. Remember, we're not doing this to gain a closer hold, we're doing this just to take down the blockade. Setting up a new camp will just be an added bonus." Arthas said.
The siege engine lurched violently as it crawled across some rocks. Varian smashed his head against the wall of the cockpit while being thrown around. He cursed, followed by a quick apology from the gnome. Arthas laughed.
"Light damn this place," Varian muttered to himself.
After a brief pause, Arthas turned to the gnome. "What's your name?"
"Riggy Coalsprocket," he responded, turning to look at the Lordaeron king, "Why do you ask?"
"I.. uh.. just conversation," Arthas responded.
A few more minutes passed in silence, with occasional bumps.
"Here we are!" shouted the gnome operating the vehicle. Both Arthas and Varian turned to look through the small window at the front. Sure enough, Just within render distance was the fierce Horde encampment known as the Dranosh'ar Blockade.
"Wow," Arthas said dismissively.
"Hm?" the gnome asked.
"I don't know," Arthas responded. "Just.. this wasn't what I was expecting."
"How so?"
"I.. uh.."
"Are we in range?" interrupted Varian
"Should be!" the gnome said back.
"The open fire!" Varian shouted. the gnome pressed a few buttons, then shouted into a microphone. "Open fire!"
Instantly, hundreds of explosions were heard from all over. Metal clattered, as the war machines fired powerful explosives at the blockade.
Explosions rang out in the distance, as balls of fire began rising up from well inside the outer barriers of the blockade. Varian and Arthas could see orcs scrambling around, some yelling orders, some trying to put the fires out. The blockade was huge, and it had barely been touched so far, but the war machines would continue to move forward.
Finally, the machines were nearly at the first wall of barriers by the time the orcs had begun to retaliate. Arrows flew, clattering harmlessly off the thick metal. Eventually some mages were able to throw some more powerful spells, still doing almost null damage to the machines, though. More explosions rang out, as the war machines pummelled the blockade time and time again.
"Yes!" Varian shouted in joy.
Riggy was frantically pressing buttons, firing missiles at the blockade. He was doing little work to aim, but it did not matter. No matter where he fired, the projectile would do damage to the blockade.
More arrows clattered against the window at the front of the cockpit. The thick glass was taking no notice of the pathetic projectiles.
Eventually, the orcs began a stronger retaliation. They did have their own seaforium, which they began firing back. There were some explosions behind Varian and Arthas, as some of their own siege engines were hit, and exploded. However both of them knew how the battle would end. The blockade, and its contents, everything from orcish structures, to piles of gear, were being decimated by the hundreds.
The orcs had begun a small charge forward. There were only a few hundred of them, but they valiantly charged forth to their doom. Barely ten seconds had passed, until explosions flew up all around them, until every last one was killed.
Arthas stared at the charred corpses, almost mourning their deaths, while Varian, behind him, let out a large cheer.
A few more seaforium bombs flew into the army of siege engines, but eventually stopped altogether. The army was still bombarding the blockade with missiles.
"Hold fire!" Varian called out.
Riggy Coalsprocket responded by grabbing the microphone, and replaying Varian's order into it.
After the last few echoes had died off, the scene grew very quiet. The blockade was silent. There was no sign of orcs, anywhere. The only movement came from burning fires, and slowly collapsing buildings.
"Should we send in a scout to see what's happening?" Arthas asked.
"We didn't bring up infantry, remember?" Varian said.
"Ah yes," he replied. "So, then what?"
"Should we wait?" Varian asked.
"Why not set up a hold now?" Arthas asked.
"Brilliant!" Varian shouted. Then to the pilot. "Riggy, call the main base. Tell them to bring reinforcements up here."
The gnome pilot nodded, before flipping some switches. Soon the grinding, chugging, and humming of the war machine stopped. The gnome grabbed the microphone and shouted into it.
"Hello? .. General Bartlet! Yes, I think so. .."
The gnome turned to face Varian. "General Bartlett wishes to speak with you."
Varian grabbed the microphone.
Meanwhile Arthas climbed through the cabin, and exited through the hatch. The late evening sky was beginning to grow dark, yet the desert was still quite hot. He breathed the fresh air deeply, before climbing down the side, dropping into the sand. He looked back at the still burning ruins of the blockade.
Meanwhile, the other vehicles had all pulled up along side the lead on, and dwarves and gnomes were piling out. Within minutes, barriers were laid down, and small tents erected. Supplies were unloaded, and some people set up campfires.
Arthas helped unload, and Varian wandered around, keeping everyone on track.
Soon, a convoy started arriving from the main camp to the south. Larger vehicles, for transporting goods, carried huge piles of weapons and armour, crates of supplies, and thousands of soldiers. Varian was standing, watching the approaching convoy.
It was quite late at night by the time a formal command post was set up. Most soldiers were around campfires, playing card games, or telling stories and laughing. The general had thrown out some orders, and some soldiers were patrolling, a few scouting the blockade.
Arthas and Varian were wandering around discussing the plans for the next day, when they were greeted by Justin Bartlett, the general.
"Congratulations with the attack, your majesties!" he shouted, and jogged up to the duo.
"Thank you," Varian replied. "Tell me, are there any more troops on their way up here?"
"The camp is preparing to send another convoy up. By the morning, one third of the main camp should be here. If I might ask, what have you two decided for tomorrow?"
Varian replied first. "The main wall of Orgrimmar is nearly twenty meters thick, and filled solidly with stone. Tearing through it will be next to impossible. Additionally, they have more seaforium cannons atop the wall than we can bear with. We haven't yet come up with a solid plan, but we have some ideas. Mostly, we've agreed we're not getting anywhere near there without taking down many of their cannons from back here. We have no way of knowing how much ammunition they have, but we're both assuming it's a substantial amount.
"Might I suggest something?" the general interjected.
"Sure," Varian replied.
"Though rogues aren't an official part of any Alliance military, we do have some SI:7 agents here, a few hundred of them. If we are able to, they can sneak through the wall, and onto the wall. From there, they could get a strong foothold from inside the city.
"Yes, but it would be a suicide mission," Arthas pointed out. "Rogues cannot lead a full on invasion by themselves."
Justin nodded slowly.
"How much seaforium do we have, exactly?" Arthas asked.
"Don't know. Our supplies are scattered around, but definitely a good, strong amount."
"I would like to throw out an idea," Arthas said, "of letting loose with explosives on the wall. It would be very costly on our supplies, but it could seriously cripple Orgrimmar.
Varian nodded slowly, thinking to himself.
"Justin, do you agree with this plan?" Arthas asked the general.
"I don't see why not."
"Excellent, then I'll need you to make sure all our explosives are relocated to this camp by morning!" Varian ordered.
"Right away, your majesty," the general said, and walked off.
"Do you really think it'll work?" Arthas asked Varian.
"It's the safest way I can think of," Arthas responded.
"What if it doesn't work?"
"Then we just swarm the city on foot. We have the manpower, but we would lose a lot," Arthas said.
"Ah yes," Varian nodded. "But if it fails, we'd have lost all those explosives for nothing."
"Come on, It's the safest plan, and there's something else we need to discuss in the meantime."
"Very well, what do you want?" Varian reluctantly asked.
"What do we do with the population of Orgrimmar after we take over the city?"
"Kill them," Varian responded coldly. "They've massacred Alliance, and kept this war lasting generations longer than we wanted it to."
"Are you kidding?" Arthas shouted. "We can't do that!"
"You want them dead too," Varian replied icy cold.
"Okay, well, yes, I do, but we can't do that." Arthas said.
Varian sighed. "You're right. What other options do we have?"
Arthas thought for a moment. "We could just kill the guard force, and leave the city without any military power."
"Yes, that's an option. The downside is that it'll eventually regrow. Another option is to take the city as Alliance territory, however that will cost us valuable resources, and the population will eventually just revolt. The only merciful way out is to send the orcs back to Draenor, and disband the rest of the Horde," Varian thought.
"Sending some one hundred thousand orcs half way across the world is unimaginably expensive," said Arthas. "And additionally, the rest of the races would reforge the Horde, and being another war."
"Then what do we do?" Varian asked, inclining in anger.
"Assimilate them into the Alliance?" Arthas asked.
"Are you fucking insane?" Varian yelled.
"Sorry, sorry, of course not. I was just thinking out loud." Arthas quickly retracted.
"Then what do we do?" Varian moaned. "There's no possible way out that benefits everyone."
"No problem has a perfect solution," Arthas said slowly, quoting his father.
"Irrelevant!" Varian shouted. "Every option we have will eventually lead to another possible war!"
"No matter what we do, the Horde will reforge themselves and declare war on us again. No matter how powerful we are, or how weak they are. This is an indefinite cycle."
"Curse Medivh for making that damn portal in the first place!" Varian shouted. "If he hadn't had done that, the orcs would never have come through and started killing us!"
"Varian, calm down." Arthas squeezed Varian's shoulder lightly. "We will eventually find a completely fair way out of this."
"I'm sorry," Varian said quietly. "The orcs killed my father, and I still want revenge, in a way."
"The Horde has hurt everyone, Varian," Arthas said, trying to comfort his old friend.
"You're right," Varian said. He waited a few moments, then added "But we still have a huge problem at hand."
The two heard footsteps a small distance behind them, and looked to see the general walking up to them briskly.
"General!" Varian said. "Is the seaforium on its way?"
"Yes, but it many not be needed!" the general said jovially.
"What?" Arthas gasped. "Explain, please. Do you have another plan?"
"In a way, yes," he responded.
"Elaborate." Varian said curtly.
"Just moments ago, some orcs from Orgrimmar came to our camp to discuss diplomacy," he said. "Apparently, Garrosh Hellscream would like to order a surrender. He knows his city is doomed, and doesn't want any more of his people to die after the massacre at the blockade. He's willing to surrender everything in return for freedom."
"What did you tell these diplomats?" Arthas asked.
"Nothing, yet. They are still waiting for our response."
"Then we shall return!" Varian announced.
The trio briskly returned to the camp, where they met up with two orcs.
"Greetings, your majesties," one orc said, and the other repeated the same phrase immediately after.
"I am Durn Gorrivar," said the first orc. "I assume you know why we are here?"
"Yes, we do," Arthas said. "But we must discuss many things before we are openly willing to return home. Shall we sit down?"
Arthas lead the group into the large command tent, where they each took a seat.
"Firstly, could you tell us on what grounds Garrosh immediately requested the surrender?" Arthas asked.
"Certainly," the orc named Durn replied. "Garrosh acknowledges that Orgrimmar is, in essence, doomed. He cares deeply for the lives of his Horde, and does not want to lose any more. If you accept to his surrender, you well let the population of the city repopulate Durotar, and the Barrens. Garrosh will also swear to his honour that he will not let any more aggression happen between our two factions."
Arthas nodded, then replied. "I would very much like to begin peace between our two factions, and if possible, even trade, however, with all due respect, I don't fully trust Garrosh's word. Is there some way you could guarantee peace between our two factions?"
Durn hesitated.
"What about if you gave us all seaforium, weapons, and armour you have?"
"The Horde will still need them, for protection against inferior factions, such as the grimtotem, and the razormane." Durn said.
"Surely you do not need one hundred thousand armed soldiers for protection against petty thieves," Arthas countered.
Durn paused, and seemed to be at a loss for words.
The other orc carried on the conversation. "What would the Alliance do to Orgrimmar if you were to invade us?"
Arthas responded. "We have pondered the same question for quite some time. Most likely, it would not be something Garrosh would be too happy about."
"Garrosh may be interested in combining our two factions, for protection purposes. You saw what Deathwing did. If such a disaster were to happen again, we would be that much better if our factions were working together." the second orc continued.
"Yes, we have considered that," Varian said, "But with all due respect, much of the Alliance would be offended at merging with the faction that terrorized us so much in the past."
"Fair enough. By the way, my name is Klon Durgor," the second orc said.
The three humans nodded at his introduction.
"Anyways," Klon continued, "I understand your concern, and if you are against joining our factions, then such will not happen."
"One big interest of the orcs of Orgrimmar is to return to Draenor," Durn said.
"Yes, we have considered that as well," Arthas said, "but who would fund that? You, or us?"
"Yes, understood," Klon said.
"I would like to return our attention to the original plan of our factions merely living alongside each other," Durn interjected.
"Yes, that so far is the most likely path of action," Arthas said, "however we still need Garrosh to prove he does not wish for war."
"Can you not accept Garrosh's word of honour?" Durn asked.
"Not after what the Horde has done to us, and also with all the weapons and armour you possess in your city."
"Fine, if we were to surrender nine tenths of the weapons, would you allow us to surrender?"
Varian turned to Arthas. "Do you think so?" he asked.
"Let's discuss this privately," Varian responded, standing up.
Arthas turned to the orcs, "We will return momentarily."
The orcs nodded.
The sky was pitch black, and saturated with stars. The only light came from torches, and dying campfires. The majority of the camp was asleep, waiting for an action packed tomorrow. It was perfectly quiet.
"Do you really think Garrosh wants to live in peace?" Varian asked. "That's not like him."
"This could very well be legitimate," Arthas replied. "If he will be willing to part with ninety percent of his city's arms, then that shows he's serious. If he's not, we can easily take the city, and decide what to do about if after."
"Fair enough," Varian responded, and walked back towards the tent.
When they entered, Varian was the first to speak.
"We would gladly accept to a surrender, if Garrosh is willing to give up ninety thousand arms possessed by your city." Varian announced.
"Excellently. We will deliver your news to Garrosh immediately!" Durn said. He stood up, followd by Klon, and the two orcs left the tent to relay the news to their leader.
CHAPTER 6
Arthas was sleeping comfortably, having a dream about being in Stormwind, during the lunar festival. He still had occasional nightmares about Frostmourne, but they were becoming less frequent, and when they happened they were less intense. He was awoken by Varian.
"Arthas, wake up!" he whispered loudly.
Arthas stirred, then became fully awake. After a few moments, he had regained enough consciousness, and answered. "Yes?"
"It's Garrosh. He's here. With ninety thousand arms!" That snapped Arthas fully awake. He got up quickly, and got dressed, before meeting Varian outside the tent where he had spent the night.
Varian lead Arthas to the command tent the night before, where none other than Garrosh Hellscream was waiting.
Upon their arrival he stood up, and grunted.
"Interesting to know you two do not trust an orc's word of honour," he growled.
"No offense, but no Horde leader has been completely honest with the Alliance," Varian snapped back.
Garrosh growled, then sighed. "Yes, you're right. Anyways I'd like to demonstrate I am completely honest, and so I have given up the requested ninety percent of my city's war gear. You have to understand, with or without the arms, we are already so weakened, we do not pose any threat to you whatsoever. Unfortunately, there may be a point in our distant future when things heat up, but until then, I promise you there will be no serious aggression between our factions."
"I accept your terms," Varian said, reaching out his hand. Garrosh grabbed it, and shook it firmly.
"And, I would also like to sincerely apologize for what the Horde has done to the Alliance in the past, even though little of it was my doing."
"I accept the apology, Garrosh. I am happy we can finally have peace." Varian said.
That night, the few dozens of goblin zeppelins at the Alliance's main command were loaded with ninety thousand weapons, to be dumped into the Great Sea, never to be used for war again. The soldiers would soon be sent to their various hometowns via a navy fleet currently resting in Ratchet.
Arthas returned home to Lordaeron, where he was once again recognized as a hero. A large banquet was held in his honour.
His oldest child, the four year old Terenis Menethil III, was heir to the throne of Lordaeron, but that would not be for many, many decades.
Garrosh did his best to live up to his promise of peace. Renegade groups of orcs did occasional attack Alliance settlements, usually Theramore Isle, but were imprisoned into Horde prisons, as they were considered to be acts of treason.
The world of Azeroth lived in peace and tranquility for many centuries.