Trial by Fire

Chapter One: Invasion

Simonee looked up at the door and sighed. "Yes?"

He heard a voice on the opposite side of the door speak, but it was too low for him to make out. Simonee stood and walked to the portal to open it, finding Varian's messenger behind it. She was almost five-feet-nine, standing to Simonee's neckline. She was garbed in fine silks, wearing a short-sleeved shirt despite it still being cold out. The messenger had ruby hair, accentuated by blonde streaks running through it at regular intervals. It was tied back in a ponytail which rested on her back. She also had curves to rival any night elf maiden.

"Er... what is your message, milady?" Simonee asked, brought out of his trance-like gawking by the nagging voice in the back of his mind. The woman blushed slightly as he addressed her.

"The king wishes to see you in the audience chamber. He says it requires your attention," she replied. Her voice was clear, and not without authority.

Simonee cleared his throat and nodded. "After you, milady," he said. She blushed again.

The messenger led him down the hallways - he had the passageways all memorized at this point, but the woman didn't know that - as they made their way down to the large, tapestry-filled room. Upon reaching it, she opened the door and gestured Simonee inside. The room was just as it was two days ago, as they had prepared for the funerals. Banners of the Alliance and panoramas littered the walls, and the benches surrounding the center floor were empty, rising from front to back.

The king was the only current occupant of the room, sitting in the red velvet throne. He looked tired, as he had been dealing with the senators and advisors for the whole time he had been back. Varian looked up at Simonee and the messenger, and smiled as sincerely as he could, considering the circumstances.

"You sent for me, sir?" Simonee asked, walking to the center floor and kneeling.

"Yes; my scouts are telling me that the Defias are now only days away. They are marching through the border into the forest as we speak. I need of you to prepare yourself. Being that you're one of the better mages currently in the city, I want to put you in the command of a division of spellcasters."

Simonee stood, shocked. "I am honored, my liege," he said.

Varian smiled. "It is my honor to bestow this upon you." He looked at the messenger and said, "Terri, if you would please show the master mage to the armory."

Terri bowed low. She led Simonee out of the audience chamber, and guided him through the hallways. Eventually, the two came to an open courtyard. The courtyard was beautiful; there was a path lined by trees that led into a large building, separated into three. There, the path branched off into three and each went into a spearate doorway. The sun was reflecting off of every blade of grass, and the verdant green seemed to simply pop from the large lawn. Rosebushes and and magnolia flower beds were tended to with a mastery, by small gnomes with strange machines. Simonee took a liking to the courtyard immediately; it was so much more... open than the confined hallways and the large-yet-crowded chambers that occupied the rest of the Keep's space.

The messenger led Simonee down the pathway and halted abruptly at the stem of the branches. She pointed to the building on the left. "That section is for cloth and leather. Enchantment scrolls can also be found there. The middle building," she said, pointing next to the corresponding section, "is mail and plate, plus bastard swords and maces. The building on the right is for staves, daggers, blades, and smaller trinkets. Peruse at your discretion. The king has made it so that everything is available to you."

Terri bowed low again, and scooted off back into the maze of the Keep's hallways, leaving Simonee gaping at the large building. After a few moments, Simonee gained the use of his legs again.

He entered the large storerooms using the entrance on the left - the cloth and leather section. There were racks on the walls holding clothing made from nearly every type of fabric; from linen to enchanted spellweave. It was much like the wardrobe the group had been allowed to use before the funerals, albeit much more formal and organized. On a row of tables to Simonee's right and against the wall, there were many different suits of leather armor; colors ranging from light brown to jet black. In the center of the room was another large cluster of tables, on top of which lied scrolls tied shut with wax seals. Simonee recognized these as single-use enchantments. Once the spellcaster casted the enchantment, the rolled parchment of the scroll would simply become spent and disappear, leaving the enchantment on whatever was to be imbued.

Simonee walked to the cloth racks. There were undershirts, pants, boots, cloaks, and robes, lined according to type and fabric. Looking through the items, Simonee was enthralled by some. He felt the dormant power bristling through his arms as he felt each. When he finished his inspections, he chose to simply keep his gift robes from Garret, instead using undershirts and pants from the armory; these were too good to pass up.

Simonee then looked at the assortment of scrolls lying on the tables in the center. There were labels underneath each that read what the enchantment scribed on the scrolls was, and what it did. He chose three - one which was able to amplify his flame magics through his robes; one that was able to erect a thin barrier against both spells and melee attacks that would help dampen the damage done; and one that he placed on his staff, which exuded icy wrath. Once he placed the frost enchantment on his staff, a thick white mist enveloped the tip.

Afte he chose his enchantments, he found no reason to look at the leathers, mail or plate, and so decided to move straight on to the weaponry room. There, weapon racks lined each of the room's four walls. On one, there were swords and daggers; on another, there were staves and smaller warhammers; on the third, there rested axes; on the fourth was rifles of differing sizes, with adjustable scopes nearby. Once again, there was a cluster of tables in the center of the room, upon which lied amulets and rings of many sorts.

Stepping into the room, Simonee immediately spotted a stave to his liking; it was on the far right edge of the weapon rack, and had a divider separating it from the others. It had a red gem for a tip, with smaller gem fragments rotating around the larger. The large gem was nearly the size of Simonee's forearm, and was twice as thick. The handle was made of the finest rosewood, and was protected merely by a thin layer of cloth.

Simonee was intrigued by the fine weapon. He walked quickly to where it was resting, and reached a hand out to grab it. He wasn't able to before a blast of arcane energy blasted him backward. A chuckle rang out behind Simonee, from the front entrance of the armory.

In the doorway, Simonee saw, was an old man - nearing seventy by the look of him. He had stark white hair, and a long beard to match. He held a cane in his right hand, leaning on it heavily for support. He took a few steps into the room before addressing Simonee.

"Ah, that's a feisty one, it is."

"Feisty?" Simonee asked, getting up.

"Aye, feisty. It's got quite a temper, doncha know."

"Temper?"

The old man looked at Simonee with a smile. "Inquisitive, aren't we? Yes, temper. It's said that that stave lives," he said, motioning at the staff. "They call him the 'Merciless Gladiator'. The legend goes that there was a grand battlemage who frequented the arena. He went undefeated until an underhanded blow forced him to his knees. Then, before his opponent got the chance to cleave his head off, he imbued his soul into his staff. The spell is one that would kill anyone - naturally. I s'pose the gladiator thought that a better fate than being stilled by a member of the Horde. It's taken up until recent lulls in the war to get the stave back diplomatically. Aye, that was a tough fight, even without the bloodshed."

Simonee nodded at the old man. He had finally reached the staff, and started to speak in an undertone. Simonee felt the drop in power, as the stave allowed the old man to reach for, and pick it up.

Shocked, Simonee asked, "How did you do that?"

The mysterious man chuckled again. "I am the caretaker of this marvellous weapon. I placed that ward around this and built the section for it. I couldn't risk any passing wanderers or pilferers gaining this prized possession. What's your name, young mage?"

"Simonee..." he said, tentatively.

"Ah, Simonee. A good name. Well, Simonee, I'm Gemmund. I have heard accounts of the king that speak of your virtue, and a reading of your mind confirms it. I can allow you this weapon. But promise me this one thing: bring it back to me without scuff or scratch, for it is too valuable to be swinging around recklessly."

Simonee loooked at Gemmund once more in shock. "Are you sure?"

"Aye, that I am."

Gemmund handed the stave to Simonee, who hefted it in his hands. It was surprisingly light, and - to Simonee's delighted surprise - not top-heavy. He looked back up at the older mage.

"I thank you Gemmund, and I do promise to return this to you, without fail."

Gemmund nodded and smiled, revealing two rows of perfectly white teeth. "I know you will, sonny. I know you will."

With that, the old man turned and exited through the door in which he had came in, and left Simonee looking once more at the exquisite staff. With a short toss, he threw his own staff into the corner of the room and strapped the Merciless Gladiator into the scabbard on his back.

Armed with stave and armor, Simonee returned to the audience chamber; not without getting lost a few times before a chambermaid gave him the directions. In the large room, Simonee bowed to Varian.

"I see Gemmund has allowed you use of his pride and joy. A finer weapon you won't see," he remarked. "And you're just in time, my friend. The Defias are moving at a faster pace than originally expected. They have already taken Goldshire, and are still marching here. I need you to go to the Trade District. There, you will find your soldiers, willing and ready."

Simonee bowed again, and said, "Aye, my liege."


The Trade District was as full as always, but not with the usual traders. Rows of soldiers lined the limited space, and the surplus spilled into the canals and Mage District. Simonee looked at nearly two-hundred mages and warlocks facing him. This was what he was charged with. Varian had treated him with the same respect as a general in his army - and as such, he was made an interim one.

His division fidgeted with fright, but at the same time - Simonee knew - they were tense and ready to down even the toughest of lizards in Un'Goro. Each was rather young, but there were a few that had lived their share of years, and these elder men were dispersed evenly, to keep up the younger ones' morale. Simonee stood at the front of the large column, pacing back and forth, trying to come up with a speech that would bolster the men's hearts. So far, he hadn't come up with anything. In his pacing, he had seen a glimpse of Aubs and Garret, but they were soon whisked away to do whatever the king may have had them doing. He wondered what the rest of his friends were up to, but pushed the thought to the back of his mind - he had more important things to worry about.

Soon, he heard the peals of war horns rising above the walls of the Trade District. The clashing of blades wasn't far behind. The canals were filled with the sounds of warfare as the Defias invasion force pushed their way into the frontlines of the Stormwind defenders. The dwarves from Ironforge were also fighting alongside their human counterparts, and both races were represented nearly equally. The metal ring of blade-on-blade went on for a few hours before a voice called out.

"SPELLCASTERS, TO THE MIDDLE!"

It was a flurry of activity, but Simonee had managed to run with his men to the center of the Trade District. Warriors and paladins passed by them whispering words of encouragement. Once the column of mages and warlocks reached the battle, they immediately began assaulting the Defias' frontlines. Simonee didn't pay much attention to the mass of bodies - both defender and Defias alike - instead opting for lobbing fireballs into the crowd of incoming invaders.

Only a few of the Defias had actually reached striking distance of the spellcasters' ranks, and when they did, they were dispatched quickly in flame or shadow.

The battle raged on for nearly an hour before the action nearly halted; Simonee had to draw the potent power of the Merciless Gladiator more than once in his casting frenzy. It didn't matter to him how much energy he used, as long as Stormwind would be safe from the Defias. Soon, a break in the Defias' lines appeared, and Simonee rushed forward in order to take advantage of it. He stepped out in front of the line of warriors and began casting his most powerful area spells. Columns of flame rose far above Stormwind's stone walls, and however many Defias still remained in the ranks turned back. Few skirmishes remained, and Simonee saw each of his friends handling their own load of the invaders.

After checking his group, Simonee called his division to him. Most of them were still there - some had been killed by arrows and throwing knives - and formed their lines. Simonee marched them forward, after a short rally.

"We're going to retake Goldshire! Prepare yourselves!"

Warriors and paladins heard the cry, and joined together under Simonee, and together, the spellcasters and the close-range fighters marched out of the city. A few Defias were stationed on the road to protect their retreat, but they were easily taken care of, and Simonee and his battalion kept on.

Soon, they reached Goldshire, and what Simonee saw broke his heart.


A/N: Yay, chapter one! It always feels good to start a new story, but I'm not so sure about this one. I'm not saying that I don't like it, I'm just saying that I kinda opened it in a sorta dramatic way. Oh well. Chapter two coming in a week!