Step Three: Clear out the Quarters
They entered a long corridor infested with plague bats, giant grubs and two legged monstrosities that's soul purpose is to explode on death, spreading the plague in all directions. The corridor itself looked eerily familiar to Athrodar, the giant mushrooms, the plagued soil and all sorts of plants that thrived in these conditions, all bringing him back to the day he was captured by the Scourge on the brink of death. "It's exactly like the Eastern Plaguelands."
Sylvanas looked around, coming to the same conclusion herself. As they began to run through the plagued corridor, they came across more and more Forsaken bodies, dying in groups of two and three at a time. "We need to catch up to them, or we won't have an army left to face whatever else is in here."
Athrodar looked towards the end of the corridor, noticing the opening to another room. "There! That's where they are." They both began sprinting towards the room, only to see they had already been engaged in combat with who Athrodar knew to be Heigan. He was also a necromancer, but unlike Noth, he specialised in the plague and the spreading of it. He constructed the plague cauldrons that transformed the Plaguelands from a lush, green, living environment to what they are today.
Although alone, he was deflecting most if not all the attacks coming to him, only to retaliate by causing a short burst of slime to rush through the cracks in the very floor they stood on. Though already dead, the Forsaken could still be affected by the plague simply by killing them instead of raising them from the dead. As more Forsaken troops fell to the onslaught of plagued slime and spells coming from Heigan, Athrodar's rage overcame him. "HEIGAN!"
Only just now noticing him, Heigan's lips curled up into a sinister smile. "My my, so it is true, royalty really is worshipped by those lower than them. The Banshee Queen and the Prince of Death, under the same banner." He cackled as he dropped a suspended cauldron that was hanging in the middle of the room. The chains snapped as if commanded to do so, dropping the cauldron that was full to the brim with the plague. "You've sent your loyal subjects to their doom!"
As the plague cauldron hit the ground, it cracked on several sides, spewing the liquid plague in all directions as the Forsaken army and Koltira backed away from it quickly, trying to get away from the ever approaching liquid.
Remembering there was one crucial floor to the plague, Athrodar looked towards the cowering Forsaken. "Mages! Burn the plague!" Coming to their senses once commanded, the mages among them began throwing balls of fire at the nearing plague. One successful hit was all it took to send the plagued liquid into an fiery mess, igniting the rest of the stuff instantly. The look on Heigan's face as his creation burnt before his very eyes was of awe. His would always pride himself on being the reason the Plaguelands were like they were, only to see his work burn in front of him.
So taken back by this turn of events, he didn't notice the Forsaken army approaching him, their swords drawn, arrows nocked and spells dancing along their skeletal hands. As one, they all attacked the frozen form of Heigan, sending a magnitude of spells his way followed by so many arrows, it gave off the impression he was a human porcupine. What was left of him to attack was left to the Forsaken warriors who plunged their sword deep into his lifeless body, though they still took satisfaction in killing the man responsible for decimating a massive part of Lordaeron's wildlife, their home.
"Bring it down! We still have three more of them left, hurry!" Liadrin's eyes burnt bright with the light, akin to the paladins of the second war. She irradiated light from her very person, burning any Scourge that got too close to her. "Thal, slow the last three down! We can't risk taking them all at once!"
"Sera!" She looked at Thalina who was pointing at three stitched colossus' coming their way. "Help slow them down! Cast the biggest frost spell you can and pray it's enough!"
Sera planted her legs outwards, creating a sturdy footing before channelling all her energy into this spell. She had crouched low, arms low to the floor with her fingers spread apart. Mumbling old Thalassian words as she began to rise up from her crouched stance, frost visibly swirling around her more and more the higher up she got. Upon reaching the end of her incantation, she screamed the final words. "... Fal'dala na!" In an instant, the frost magic that had encased her, shot towards the three colossus', freezing their entire lower half in place.
Struggling to move forward, all three colossus' fell to the ground, each one landing on top of the next. "Now!" Liadrin swung her sword, pointing it towards the three collapsed monstrosities. "For the light! For Quel'Thalas!" Her battle cry rung out through the halls, spurring a renewed hope for the Sin'dorei that had accompanied them. As one, they charged towards the three stitched colossus', who were trying to get back up on their feet.
Like a magical dance, the Sin'dorei troops had evaded the swinging arms of each colossus, slicing the many layers of flesh and fat when passing by. The Magi and rangers among them were firing their missiles into the skulls of each colossus, slowing their actions down greatly with each volley until they lay there, dead.
Thalina sat down against one of the walls, unhooking a water pouch and taking a big gulp, catching her breath in the meantime. "Well, that was a lot easier than I thought." She looked up at Liadrin who had begun to do the same.
Just as she sat down next to her, something had come lumbering out from the room above. "I have a feeling you may have spoken too soon." She stood up, signalling her troops to form a spear wall in front of her. "What is that thing?"
On closer inspection, she had noticed it was some form of abomination, except the only feature on its face was that of razor sharp teeth. Accompanying said set of teeth was a pipe that went through its stomach and into its mouth. One of its hands was replaced with what she could only describe as a metallic mallet looking hammer. The other hand had a giant needle, with its contents being that of the plagued slime.
Thalina took one look at the arm and knew it was going to be as deadly as it looked. "Everyone, stay away from that needle!" She threw a ball of fire towards the fleshy giant, only for it to be soaked up as if it was water to a sponge. "Impossible.."
"I take it this is Grobbulus." Liadrin's grip on her sword tightened, holy fire burning in her eyes. She turned to the priests in their group. "Focus your magic on him! We will tend to the wounded once he's fallen! Mages, use fire spells on him! He won't be able to soak up everything. Everyone else, try to shatter that needle!" She charged towards it, everyone else following shortly after.
"Your old lives, your mortal desires, mean nothing. You are acolytes of the master now, and you will serve the cause without question! The greatest glory is to die in the master's service!"
Clea poked her head around the corner, spotting a human woman standing over what looks like her followers. "This must be that spider breeder, Grand Widow Faerlina." She looked back at Lyana, Kalira and Loralen, giving them a quick nod before drawing her bow, nocking an arrow and firing it at one of the acolytes kneeling down in front of them, the three rangers doing the same.
Faerlina looked at the fallen bodies of her acolytes before looking over at the four rangers and the charging Forsaken troops in the entranceway. "Slay them in the master's name!" In an instant, the acolytes stood up, drawing massive two handed maces and daggers, the latter casting a shadowy spell in their free hand before throwing it towards the advancing Forsaken.
Clea was advancing towards the Grand Widow, only to be stopped in her tracks by two of her followers. She unsheathed her sword, still holding on to her bow with the other hand, swinging it around as if it was an extra sword, sending one of the followers tumbling towards the ground. "Two against one? I'm going to enjoy this." She gave them a menacing grin, her eyes glowing a brighter red as she eyed the both of them.
Her movements were gracious as she dodged and parried blow after blow, lowering her body so she was on one knee, spinning herself around and kicking the legs from under one of them before parrying another blow from the other follower, shortly following it up with a sucker punch to the face all whilst holding her bow in the other hand. Stumbling backwards, he left himself open to her lunge, planting her sword deep within his abdomen before spinning around once more, nocking an arrow and firing it into the chest of the other.
Two Forsaken troopers charged towards the Grand Widow, only for her to parry their attacks, followed up shortly with a shadowy explosion on their chests as she sent two balls of magic their way. "Pathetic wretch." She looked up to see Clea bounding towards her, followed by her three rangers. "This is going to be fun."
The four rangers split up, three of them disappearing into the shadows whilst Clea fought one-on-one with Faerlina. "I'll make your death quick, so you can get your so called 'glory'."
Knowing the other three rangers were making their way towards her in the shadows, she slammed her hand into the floor, causing a shock wave of shadow magic to blast around her. "You cannot hide from me!" This caused not only Clea, but the other three dark rangers and her own acolytes to get knocked backwards. She made her way towards Clea, who was trying to get up from the floor, placing a hand on her neck. "Kneel before me, worm."
Clea's eyes quickly looked over to her right, causing Faerlina to look that way as well, dropping her grip on Clea before charging over towards the three rangers who had their bows aimed at her, only to be impaled by three arrows simultaneously quickly followed up by Clea sword.
Faerlina dropped to her knees "The master... will avenge me!"
Clea removed the sword from her back, only to line it across her throat. Placing her mouth next to her ear, she whispered. "Then tell him, the races of Azeroth are coming for him." She slid the sword across her throat, cutting deep and clean. The remaining acolytes and followers of the Grand Widow were dealt with quickly after, giving up on the fight once leaderless.
Lyana made her way next to Clea who was looking at the body of Faerlina. "Why do I feel like we still have to face a massive spider or something?"
Clea smirked. "You know, I think you're right."
Lor'themar and his group entered an empty room with a balcony overlooking it all, yet nobody was here. Continuing their trek through it, they passed under a gateway, only for it to close behind, their only escape being sealed off as well. That's when a necromancer appeared on the other side of the gate. "Foolishly you have sought your own demise. Brazenly you have disregarded powers beyond your understanding. You have fought hard to invade the realm of the harvester. Now there is only one way out – to walk the lonely path of the damned."
Suddenly, death knight trainees began to appear in the same room as the necromancer, along with skeletal archers that were nocking arrows in place. Lor'themar looked around at the group of Sin'dorei he had with him, knowing he had led them into a trap. "It's been a pleasure fighting along side each and everyone of you. Know that on this day, we won't go down as easily as they would have you believe. We are Sin'dorei, Children of the blood! We won't go down without a fight!"
"And you won't be going down alone brother!" Came a voice from the balcony.
Lor'themar looked up towards it. "Halduron! How?"
"You didn't think I'd give you all the glory this day, did you? I'd never hear the end of it." He fired an arrow into one of the trainee's. "Rangers, attack!" Almost as if from out of nowhere, a group of Farstriders appeared from the balcony, firing volley after volley at the ever appearing Scourge. It was to be an easy victory.
Or was it?
As soon as one of the death knight's fell, their spirit was transported along a pipeline, only to reappear in the same room as the group of Sin'dorei, led by Lor'themar, in a ghostly form. The quick succession of kills on the living side however was making life on the undead side a lot harder than they had first thought. The ghostly apparitions were corporeal for a short period of time before becoming incorporeal, giving them a short window to slay their ghostly forms.
The priests and paladins amongst them however could deal with their incorporeal forms with a touch of the light, evening out the odds once more as more of them began to turn incorporeal. The necromancer known as Gothik, the Harvester, was taken back at how quickly they were dispatching any reinforcements that were coming their way. "I have waited long enough! Now, you face the harvester of souls!" He outstretched his arms, summoning more and more members of the Scourge from thin air.
They were quickly closing in around Lor'themar's group, Sin'dorei guards falling to their ranks quicker than they could kill them. Gothik had teleported into their room however, giving Lor'themar the opportune chance to slay him. He ran at him at full force, knocking the necromancer off his feet, sending both of them tumbling towards the gate that separated the two rooms.
They both got to their feet, before Lor'themar could draw his sword, Gothik swung a fist at him, only for to then dodge it as he swung his sword up, cutting off his hand. "Gah! You Elven bastard! You will pay for that!" He swung at him with his other fist, only to have it result in the same way. Now without both hands, he was unable to cast, resulting in the remaining Scourge members to get cut down until he was the last one.
Lor'themar placed one hand on the necromancers shoulder. "It's over, Harvester." He plunged his sword deep into him until the hilt touched flesh, the tip of the sword sticking out the other side of the gate.
"I... am... undone!" Gothik hacked up some blood before falling limp on his sword, body already decomposing.
Halduron made his way over to Lor'themar, clapping his hand on his shoulder. "It's good to see you are still alive brother."
Lor'themar done the same. "Only because you saved us from certain death." Smiling at him before taking him into a brotherly embrace.
All Halduron could do was laugh. "... Again."
"He keeps healing! We can't seem to do any damage that will inflict permanent scars!" Cried Koltira, swinging his sword at the plagued bog beast over and over again, dodging any attacks coming his way.
"Fire doesn't seem to be killing him quick enough either!" Sylvanas went to draw another arrow from her quiver, only to realise that she was out. "We need to think of something and fast! We're running out of options." She drew her swords and entered the fray.
Athrodar nocked his final arrow, knowing he had to make it count he began to enchant it with a frost spell. Two blue streaks danced around the shaft of the arrow, finding the head and enchanting it with an icy touch. He let loose the arrow, hitting the plagued bog beast in the hand, freezing it over. On closer inspection however, he noticed it wasn't healing as fast as it did when fire came into contact with it.
"That's it.." he mumbled to himself. "Everyone, freeze this thing! It won't heal quick enough if we concentrate frost spells at him." As one, the mages amongst them started casting frost spells ranging from giant blizzards to a small frost ball conjured by mages leaning closer to fire and arcane. Koltira and Athrodar aided them by using their Death Knight abilities, freezing the limbs of the bog beast in order to keep him still long enough for the mages to get a direct hit.
Wave after wave of frost spells hit the plagued bog beast, slowing it down so much that it began to freeze over. With one final push of energy, Athrodar stuck his sword in deep, freezing the beast from the inside before yanking it out, leaving a crystallised form of the bog beast they had just fought against.
He tapped the hilt of his sword against the frozen beast, hearing the distinct dinging sound of glass. "Well, this is the last of them." He looked around, noticing they had less than half the numbers they started with. "Though, it looks like it came at a heavy price."
"Then let's not their deaths be in vain." Koltira placed a hand on Athrodar's shoulder. "We still have to make sure everyone else has done their part."
"Then we best go to the rendezvous point and meet up with the other groups." Athrodar took one last look at the crystallised bog beast before setting off back to the entrance of the necropolis. Not failing to notice the defensive rune in the middle of the room, he ordered a couple of mages to destroy it on their way out.
When they eventually made it back to the entrance of Naxxramas, they met up with Clea's group shortly after arriving. "My Lady, it's good to see you're still with us."
"Same can be said for you, General." She looked at the other returning Forsaken group, noticing they were a little light on members. "How many did you lose?"
"Next to none. That was, until we got to the biggest spider I've ever seen, and will probably ever see again." Clea visibly shuddered. "That thing was huge! Each leg must have been the size of an abomination..." She started making visual aids to push her point across.
Sylvanas tried to get her attention. "Clea."
"..And to think there were eight of them! Those were the first set obstacles, let me tell you!" She shook her head. "Next were the fangs, thick, sturdy, menacing looking things..."
Sylvanas' patience was starting to wear thin. "Clea..."
"I saw the big bastard pick up at least three of our guys in one go. The sound of their bones snapping in her jaw will be something I won't forget for a long time..."
"Clea!" Sylvanas snapped at her, something she rarely done. This got her attention however. "How many did you lose?" She repeated.
"Right, sorry... I got carried away." She looked at the group she was leading. "I'd say about two thirds. Most of which were to that giant spider." She looked back at her queen. "You should have seen the size of her stinger." Sylvanas rolled her eyes exasperated with her Dark Ranger-General, moving away from her. Athrodar was leaning against a wall, watching the whole thing transpire in front of him, to which Clea extended her arms out, demonstrating the size of the stinger. "This big!" She mouthed to him, which made him chuckle.
As they began to get settled in, the wounded being stitched up from various healers, others setting up a defensive perimeter around the entranceway's to each quarter, Sylvanas pulled Athrodar away from the group, going back into the plague quarter for a private word or two. Once she knew they were alone, she began her much awaited talk with him. "What's your answer?
Not knowing what she was on about, having spent most of his time fighting countless Scourge minions whilst taking a few knocks to the head. "My Lady?"
"Fight by my side Athrodar. Fight by it as we conquer the rest of Northrend, fight by it as we kill Arthas, fight by it in future wars to come." She stood closer to him, placing a hand on his arm. "Fight by my side." She whispered.
He looked down at her hand on his arm briefly before shaking it off, walking a few paces away from her, rubbing this bridge of his nose. "Tell me, what do I get out of this?"
Taken aback by his question, she tried to find a response. "I.. You ge-"
He cut her off, knowing it would infuriate her deep inside yet knowing he had to get his point across. "Because as far as I can tell, you're the one who benefits from this, not me." He began to pace the room.
She moved in front of him, trying to stop him from pacing. "You get a place to call home, Undercity will always be open to you."
He laughed, shaking his head in the meantime. "Just like how Capital City was open to Arthas? Just before their beloved prince killed them all." He stopped pacing, looking at her with an emotionless stare. "You'll be letting another Prince into Lordaeron, one that is capable of slaughtering the populace."
She frowned at him. "You're not capable of falling that far, you won't turn into Arthas."
"Won't I!?" He snapped at her. "Would you like me to run through it again?"
She glared at him now, both for yelling at her and for repeating a subject she had already discussed with him. "No, you don't need to run through it again."
"No, no. Let me remind you of what I have done that's very similar to what he has done. He was the Prince of Lordaeron, I was the Prince of the Scourge. He slaughtered his people, I have slaughtered mine." He points towards a couple of ghouls that were slain hours ago. "He turned his back on those he loved, hurting them in the meantime. I have done the exact same with that Magister and countless others."
"You don't need to ca-"
"He commanded people to slaughter the Scarlet Crusade, I commanded people to slaughter the Scarlet Onslaught. He has stolen the souls of thousands of dead, I may not have that many under my belt, but I have a sword that's capable of doing just that."
Sylvanas was becoming visibly pained at hearing the similarities, the comparisons bringing out painful memories of her past. "Athrodar stop..."
"I slaughtered countless innocents, wiping out entire civilisations whilst sending more on the brink of extinction." He looked at Sylvanas, knowing what he was about to say but couldn't stop himself. "He slaughtered the citizens of Lordaeron and almost sent our Elven Kingdom into exti-"
Sylvanas slapped him across the face, knowing exactly what he was about to say, a tear creeping down her face whilst doing so. Athrodar recoiled back at the hit, only to glare back at her in anger. She went to slap him again, only for him to catch her arm mid-swing, much to her shock. He eyed her up and down, noticing her weakened state, having been reminded of her failure to protect Quel'Thalas, only to be brought back as a banshee. "I... W-will not have you turn into him..." Her voice quivered as the memories of her past were racing through her mind
Noticing this, Athrodar let go of her arm and watched her closely, shocked at what he was seeing. "Sylvanas?"
She hugged herself, trying to hide the shaking that was the result of her cries. Memories of her past coming back to haunt her. "Get out..."
"My lady, I didn't -"
"GET OUT!" She unhooked a couple of knives on her belt, launching them in his direction.
He moved one of his arms up to block the incoming projectiles. As they pierced his leather armour and arm, he was under attack from another set of knives. Knowing he had to calm her down, he done something she done to him not too long ago. He removed the knives sticking out of his arm, going over to her and taking her in his arms, one behind her back and the other behind her head, pulling her in close. Realising what he was doing, she began to fight it, throwing punches at his abdomen, chest, arms, anything she could land a blow to, she did.
Despite her being reluctant to his rather bold action, she eventually let it happen, breaking down into a long awaited cry, falling down to her knees whilst bringing him down with her. She held on to him as if her life depended on it, trying to seek some comfort in all of this. He held on to her whilst she let it all out, although he wanted to be anywhere else than here at this moment, he had caused this outburst, it's only right that he tried to calm her down.
His mind was somewhere else though. He was thinking about the offer she proposed and what benefits he would get out of such a thing. He would be given a place in this world, but at what cost? He knew he was becoming more and more like Arthas with every passing day, could he risk history repeating itself?