VI: Winds of the North
Perhaps "onslaught" was a good name for these fools. Their numbers truly did seem unending, despite that they were alone here in Northrend, lacking any allies or reinforcements whatsoever. It was a testament to the supremacy of stupidity that so many still fought and died for a dead ideal. If that ideal had ever been alive, then it had ended it when she took Abbendis's head. This time, the matter was going to be settled permanently.
Despite such resolve upon her part, it was hard to be wholly convinced of such a thing. Had she not said much the same thing before she had struck down the High General? Perhaps there was some further manipulator who would be revealed when she struck down Westwind. But then, it almost didn't matter.
No, not almost, the Blood Knight decided as she kicked aside the arm of a fallen raven priest and stared at the looming maw of the cave before her. It didn't matter on the slightest if she truly ended the Scarlet Onslaught this time. She had a score to settle with that brazen fool. Her heart had soared when she had found the note regarding his presence, carelessly concealed along with a sheaf of other information in a locked chest.
Normally, even as what she was, the sort of torture that the death knight had used to extract the location of this cave would've irritated her. Meddling with souls was the work of fools, priests, scum, and demons. And there was, she mused, a decidedly high amount of overlap between those first three. But despite that she could still hear the tortured screams of the severed bishop echoing in her mind if she thought of the affair, she barely cared.
Almost casually, she brandished her blade and pressed onward into the cavern. From within, a foul stench that seemed somehow all too familiar assaulted her nostrils, but before she could determine what it was, a bolt of shadowy energy was arcing through the air toward her. The Blood Knight staggered back, caught off guard by the impact despite that the shield of holy energy that enveloped her was easily able to ward off the weak spell.
A moment later, the vile cackle of an imp echoed through the cave and there could be no doubt; the putrid scent was the stench of sulfur and brimstone. "...well, well, the plot thickens," Alindrianna muttered to herself, even as she recovered from that stagger and launched into the flurry of blows she had become so accustomed to. The calm of battle came easily...
Moments later, two imps and their warlock masters laid dead upon the ground before her. One of the latter was still partially transformed, his body a gruesome mix of human and demon. That was to say, his eyes had already become soulless pits of blackness, and his skin had taken on an unnatural purple hue, whilst half-formed wings had been crushed by his weight when he fell. A gaping wound in his chest was testament to the way she had cut him down mid-transformation, and his face was contorted in some mix of agony and ecstasy.
Perhaps most intriguing-and concerning-was the fact that he, along with his fallen compatriot, both wore the emblem and regalia of the Onslaught. They were not some rogue warlocks, come to visit their own revenge upon the Scarlets. How low could these fools go? Some part of her almost expected to find undead crusaders within the cave as well.
Drawing in a deep, long breath, she shook her head, one hand reflexively lifting to push her hair from her face, only to remember that it had not actually fallen in her face. No, of late she had taken to wearing it in a tight bun atop her head to avoid sacrificing either its growing longness or her ability to fight without a full helm to contain the blonde strands. She had still not fully accustomed herself to the change.
But regardless, there seemed little to do but press onward. This time she advanced far slower and more warily, her green eyes glowing in the darkness that seemed tinted with the same fel taint that had created those eyes in the first place. Indeed, it seemed the Onslaught was quite openly consorting with demons here; the next two warlocks to come at her were accompanied by succubi. Now that she was entirely prepared for their shadow magics, they lasted only seconds against her attack.
It seemed this was indeed where the captured scouts the Ebon Blade commander had mentioned had disappeared to. Long experience with demons and those who consorted with them told her not to look too closely at the seemingly-sacrificed forms that were suspended in the air nearby. The fel taint seemed strongest there, and the spectral felfire that burned around them seemed to be what lit the cave with its eerie green color.
All of it reminded her far too much of the Outlands. For a moment, she felt as though she were back in the Labyrinth of Shadows, battling endlessly against the Cabal that had made its home there. At the very least, though, these warlocks seemed far weaker than those had... Or perhaps her strength had merely grown.
The answer seemed irrelevant; she pressed on, staining her intricate sin'dorei blade with the lives of more warlocks and their demons. When the path she had chosen reached a dead end, the Blood Knight demonstrated rather effectively just how many languages her travels had taught her colorful profanity in, and her glowing eyes remained fixed directly ahead of her, refusing to look at the horrors that lined the path.
The irony was not lost upon her, however, that the scenes of death and carnage she had left in her wake when first passing through were little easier upon the eyes than the grotesque rituals of the warlocks. The two melded together into an endless tapestry of horrors that framed her vision, leaving only the narrow band that was the floor directly in front of her free of such foulness. And even it was not always entirely free of death.
It was strange that it could still bother her so much, Alindrianna mused. Despite her acceptance of the path she walked, which was one almost entirely defined by blood and darkness, this spectacle could still cause her to flinch away. Perhaps it reminded her too much of her own people...
Yes, that was almost undoubtedly the answer. Once, she had reflected idly upon the superficial similarities between her own order and the Onslaught. Now, those similarities had suddenly extended to the whole of her race, and become much less superficial... The sight before her was all too familiar-the things she had seen that night in Magisters' Terrace so long ago could never be unseen.
So, indeed, it felt almost as though she had stepped into a walking nightmare, born of some twisted fusion of past and present. The two met here in a way that they never should've; the door on that chapter of her life was supposed to be rather permanently closed. The thoughts were enough that not even the calm of battle could drive them away-no, if anything such perfect focus brought them all the more strongly between clashes, stirring up her memories more strongly.
At the very least, experience and focus made her trek through the cave a short one. By its end, she cared not to think of how much more blood now stained her hands when she could not so much as recall any of the myriad clashes as more than a blur of light and shadow and an endless cacophony of pain. None of that pain had been her own, and somehow the masks that concealed the warlocks' faces made those screams more haunting.
But the journey was at its end. An all too familiar figure stood before her, although he somehow looked younger now, despite that his hair was still wholly silver and his skin still bore the lines of time. There was somehow less gravity and more youth contained in his visage. He hadn't yet noticed her yet, occupied with reading a missive of some sort.
"I believe that I have a promise to uphold." The words were spoken with the coldness that had overtaken her heart after battling her way to this place, the heart of of a nest of demons. Her greatsword was drawn still, its blade shining in the torchlight that lit this part of the cave-but it shone red, not silver, drenched in blood.
For a moment, she had the satisfaction of startling him, but the admiral's expression quickly became a mask of angry contempt as he looked upon the blood elf. "How did you find me? Did Landgren tell?"
"You say that as though it were a question. Did you really think they would remain loyal to trash like you? No, you brought together the scum of this world in your little onslaught, admiral-and now, the price for that has been exacted." She laughed bitterly, even as he drew a glowing red rapier from his side. There could be no mistaking the youthful vigor in his voice and the way he moved; his apparent age couldn't be anything but a deception.
They had no more need for words; the admiral seemed confident enough in his skill with a blade that he didn't summon his sphere of magic as the two of them clashed. And, she had to admit, that confidence was not wholly misplaced. Yet even so, her onslaught of blows pushed him back, the sacred shield of golden energy that wrapped around her turning back any blows that penetrated her defense in turn. Those were few, and far between...
By some unspoken consensus, the two combatants parted after an indeterminate amount of time, both winded. Yet, the advantage thusfar was obviously Alindrianna's; she had left several gashes in the admiral's armor, and blood stained his cheek from a faint cut upon it, likely not the only one. In turn, he had barely managed to nick her armor with his blows... The fact that he had managed to at all said much for his skill, when her focus was nearly precognition, though, the Blood Knight mused quietly. Her green eyes narrowed in challenge.
The other glared back at her, then sneered as the air rippled around him, his own barrier now materializing. "You thought I would just let you kill me? Stupid little elf-let's see what good your swordplay does you now." His laughter was loud and boisterous, echoing through the emptied-out cavern.
But this moment was the one she had been waiting for. The only warning she gave him was a smirk, even as her blade was shifted into a single hand, freeing the other to retrieve something small from one pocket. Beneath her breath, she chanted words...
"Speak up, girl. I wouldn't mind learning some Thalassian profanity," jeered the crusader, as he took a step forward, easily interpreting her words as merely swearing beneath her breath. Again his laugh echoed; "I think it's time I put an end to you, meddling paladin-"
Westwind never had the chance to finish, for as suddenly as it had appeared, his sphere of magical protection rippled and vanished, as though it had been pricked by a pin and then popped much as a true bubble might've. The trinket was already cast aside by the time its spell was finished, and in a single motion she clasped both hands upon her sword and drove it through his chest, piercing his heart as she sundered flesh and steel in kind.
It hardly seemed real, even as she drew back the weapon and staggered back, the force of the blow resounding in her hands, which threatened her with numbness to punish her reckless blow. But it seemed the battle was ended-the human groaned, unable to breath or speak. It seemed a miracle that he had not already collapsed, and his eyes seemed to grow more intense... With a suddenness that took the Blood Knight entirely by surprise, his body burst into flame and he roared with a ferocity that, in the echoing confines of the cave, was deafening.
"WHAT?! No matter. Even without my sphere, I will crush you! Behold my true identity and despair!" Each word seemed filled with more fury than the last as the flames turned a sickly, greenish hue and consumed the form of the human entirely. From within them emerged a far larger creature...
Its skin was somewhere between the fel green of the flames and the gray of ashes with a hint of purple somehow mixed in as well, while scraps of dull green armor decorated the massive form. Two tremendous wings, shaped as though they belonged to a bat, extended from the creature's back, while two twisting horns rose from either side of its face. Below them were thick, dark sideburns, the only hair at all that the behemoth possessed, while its legs ended in hooves, each of them nearly the size of a small gnome.
Perhaps worst of all, though, were the two green eyes that glared out of its face, their color the same glimmering fel hue as the blood elf's. There could be no mistaking the twisted form of the Dreadlord that stood before her, and yet again the monster let out a bellow, and shouted; "Kirel narak! I am Mal'Ganis. I AM ETERNAL!"
Alindrianna had fallen back two steps, her face an unreadable mask, but disdain and hatred took their place upon that flawlessly beautiful face at that declaration. Despite the numbness of her hands, she lifted her sword again, and from her back burst two blazing golden wings, woven of pure light. At her side, more holy energy coalesced into the shimmering, translucent form of a winged knight, a sword that matched hers in his hands. The guardian charged forward ahead of her, his light-forged blade clashing against the demon's claws, each of which was as large as a sword itself.
"Then our business is yet unfinished." She did not have the breath left to shout, and so the words were spoken almost softly as the Blood Knight threw herself into the battle once again, attacking with unbound fury; her hands and blade glowed powerfully with the light, and each blow was as much holy power as physical might...
This clash was far swifter, and yet somehow it felt every moment as long as the other... The two traded blows for no more than half a minute's times, and yet her body was as weary by the end of those seconds as if she had battled for all of an eternity against Mal'Ganis. But despite his boasts, despite his might and magic-the horrid magic that could tear at another's mind or the foul, corrosive mist that his wings released with a mere flap-the demon was again pushed back. At her side, the glowing guardian had dimmed, but his sword still moved in time with hers...
"ENOUGH! I waste my time here. I must gather my strength on the homeworld." The demon turned, as though to flee, but he found his body bound; another roar escaped him as he turned back, meeting the disdainful hatred of the blood elf with his own unrestrained rage.
"What is this?! You should be but a mote of dust before me!"
"You did not realize, fool? Perhaps had you pretended my blade had slain you as the human, you might have escaped, but I am not such a fool as not to know you'd try to slip away. I stood before the might of Kil'Jaeden himself-the very lord, in effect, of all your foul legion. You thought you had a chance?" She barely had the breath to laugh-despite her boast, the holy spell that bound the demon took all her might to maintain.
But, before he could break free of it, she was again surging forward as the light of her guardian shimmered once, then all seemed to rush back into her-no, instead into the ornamented greatsword in her hands. Steel seemed, for the merest of moments, to transform into a blade of pure, radiant light. For the second time, Alindrianna impaled Mal'Ganis-but this time, the demon's very life was truly torn asunder.
Then, her own light faded away and she fell, only able to even kneel through the sheer force of her own will. But this time, when she let herself fade into unconsciousness in the darkness, it was with confidence that the Scarlet Onslaught had truly been extinguished...