-Chapter 11-
Time was slipping away steadily, time that was too precious to waste. Prince Kael'thas, now officially King Sunstrider of the Sunfury as per his people, made haste with what scribble of a plan he had left. Things were beginning to crumble, and quick. With Illidan's madness rising and the blood mage's hunger for power never ceasing, it was he who would truly fall into a pit of forgotten ashes. But he still had one tiny flame of hope left.
When the transgressors arrived on Outland without warning, Illidan immediately took note and was outraged. Of course, the Master was mentally devastated after his utter defeat at the hands of Arthas on Icecrown. His latest command? Send in the blood elves to pull a full-frontal attack on some blundering fools, no questions asked. By the time they were all but minced meat, the Naga would reinforce them; basically suicide. It was true Kael had plotted Illidan's betrayal for quite some time, especially after the Icecrown incident. After all, his people needed a way to end their curse of magical lust instead of teasing themselves with the powers of the Naaru. However, too many things had happened at once, thwarting any and all efforts the young prince had. Now, it was different. He would not lead his brethren on a suicide mission to justify absolutely nothing. And if these intruders were truly members of the Legion, as Illidan proposed, it would not bode well at all for Kael. It was rumored that the blood elves' king had "switched paymasters" and joined the Burning Legion. That kind of talk was quite distant from the truth. However, he did have his own demons to combat with.
"King Sunstrider," came a spellbreaker among the higher ranks. "We've arrived at Nagrand at last. Are we to follow Illidan's orders to the letter?"
Kael'thas gave the officer an expectant look, noting the disillusioned soldiers expression. The blood mage shook his head, looking up at his supposed destination. Twighlight Ridge, where the opposition's fortress stood boldly, was where a most gruesome battle were to be waged. The fort, however, seemed nothing more than a human-crafted citadel. However, several Illidari rogues told their master they spotted demons patrolling the area. Kael pondered a bit longer.
" . . . No. No, we will not follow Illidan's appalling orders!"
"But, my liege, the Master will surely punish us," replied the officer, although turning their backs on Illidan was what they all wanted at this point.
"I have a plan. Gather your forces back to Tempest Keep! My forces shall meet you their soon."
"What shall I tell the emissaries of Lord Illidan?"
A rueful smile played across Kael's princely features, his long blond hair blowing in the Outland winds. It had been some time since he felt such ardor flow within him. Perhaps this was his fate, their fate. With a rush of doubt and, yet, thrill surging through his very veins, Kael spoke outright.
"Then destroy the bridge."
"Pardon, sire?"
"Should the Illidari make their way to Tempest Keep, destroy the bridge that leads them to our citadel. Ready all of our defenses and towers. Give the order that King Sunstrider forbids anyone but the blood elves from entering our home. Deal with any hostiles accordingly."
"What about you, milord?"
"By the time I return, I shall lead us back to our home. I, in the meantime, will find us a way to reclaim Silvermoon to its former glory, therefore clearing all pacts. Now, go."
Dumbstruck, the blood elf soon bowed and did as he was told. The bulk of his people marched back to Netherstorm, where his Tempest Keep floated unendingly above nothingness. He dug through his garments and grasped a shining vial, an item that never slipped away from his center of thoughts. He had suffered long enough, the same as his fellow blood elves. The time was now. He had a plan brewing. And the water within the vial would play the biggest part in this plan.
"Prince Kael'thas!" came a shrilling voice from behind. Kael and the remainder of his forces turned to see the sea witch, Lady Vashj, and a band of slithering Naga. She stood on her serpentine tail, her six arms all to her side, but with her bow out and ready. She glared at him with glowing eyes, her snake-infested hair hissing at the same time.
"Lady Vashj, we just returned from battle! They had known of our plan to attack all along. Leaving us with such meager forces, we are forced to retreat already."
"Do not try to fool me, Kael'thas! I saw the mass of your men retreating back to Tempest Keep. There was no preemptive attack on your people. Now, I demand you tell me why you disobey our Master's orders." The blood mage sighed, appearing hopeless himself. However, this could end differently, or so he thought.
"Illidan is mad, Vashj! He is sending us against a militia of people we don't even know! My people have suffered enough, and to wage war? I think that is too much."
"Kael'thas, has not Lord Illidan given you what your people wanted? Has he not given you a source in which to quench your thirst for magic?"
"It's nonsense! Unless we can find a way to eliminate this curse for good, my people will never be at peace! Even I have been driven near madness because of it. But . . . what about you, Vashj?"
"What about me?" she spat back with scorn.
"What has Illidan promised you and your people? Did he swear to give you the same solution that would only lead you in a vicious circle? Did he promise to undo your people's suffering . . . ?"
"Just what are you getting at, Prince Kael'thas?" she once again questioned, this time raising her bow slightly.
"I'm talking about our future, Vashj! The future of our people. With our 'Master' now insane, only death and suffering is in store for us. Doesn't this sound familiar?"
"You state a good point, young prince, but . . ."
"Now we have our chance! I have a plan that can save us from the rule of any tyrant. We can free my people! We can raise your kingdom from the watery depths and join as one! We can show Azeroth that we do not need to flee to solve our problems!"
" . . . You . . . are right. But I shall not forsake Lord Illidan for an idealistic thought! I shall remain neutral. I shall not order my people against yours. But at the same time, I will not join you until you can prove to me that your little plan has potential. Only then shall I assist you on that grand scheme."
"Good enough. Lady Vashj, I will show you that if we work toward the good of our people, we can bring change to our future. And one last thing; it's King Sunstrider."
-The morning after establishing a base camp . . . Serenity Island.
"Good morning," greeted Pala, who in turn was greeted with tired faces and a rather grumpy tauren.
"Why so early?" grumbled Kolark. "I got any job done later during the day."
"Well, we have no time to waste." Pala then added, "First off, I would like to state that we have word from Stormwind."
"And?" Scarlet chimed in, eager to hear her response.
"Archbishop Benedictus is alive and well, and he supports our cause entirely."
"What? That's great news!" Jedo had feared the worst for the archbishop since what had happened beneath the city. But to hear that he even supported them was twice the relief.
"Yes, indeed," Pala asserted. "He suggested that there was a strong connection between Frohm and the demonic presence in the Stockades. And, he even went as far as to say 'whichever side Jedo chooses must be of high caliber.'"
"How did you find this out?" Scarlet asked with a curious tone.
"We have a spy working for us. Remember Strahad, the man who backed me up during the attack? It seems he's taken a liking toward us and our position. He thinks we have what it takes to help Stormwind. And so he remained in the city to act as our eyes during these stressful moments, just as the archbishop shall. As for the archbishop's revival, I developed a spell that would cure him of that wretched curse. It wasn't easy, but I was diligent. I also wrote it onto a spell scroll for Strahad to read off. He was the only person I could rely on to successfully cast the cure on the archbishop."
"Amazing," said Jedo, "so all this time . . ."
"Yes," Pala said with a pleasant grin, "telepathic conversations work wonders! Now, on to more pressing matters. We must now begin our prison break strategy.
"Yeah, I was thinking," Kolark intruded on the conversation. "Why don't we use my Goblin Blaster and blow a hole into the wall, dash in, and get that chick out?"
"Um, did you eat too many cactus apples?" Scarlet's question incited the crankiness of the tauren.
"Well, I'd like to hear some better plan, miss hotshot!"
"Try sneaking into the compound, moving unseen, rescuing the dame, and quickly getting out."
"Bah! Same thing," the tauren grumbled.
"Lets begin," Pala instructed. "First off, we will need to figure out in which path do we arrive from. Although it is certain the goblins would allow us to use their zeppelins, the harbor is nearly surrounded by Alliance territory. There's no doubt we'll run into the famed dwarven gryphon-riders."
"Hmm, you're right," Scarlet agreed. "There's no way we're going through the western route. We'd have to cross over Stormwind. And even if we take to the sea, I hear Stormwind has a decent aerial division."
"We could sail along the eastern coast, then make a sharp turn west through the Wetlands," suggested Jedo. "We could touch Menethil Harbor from the north and go from there." Pala shook her head sullenly.
"Not quite. The woman would likely be dead by the time we made it around the continent. But, you are on to something there. I am not a tactician, but we can barely make it on time if we cut through the Valley of Kings and sneak into the Wetlands. There, we could do what you suggested, Jedo, only faster."
"Are you crazy, woman?" It was Kolark protesting this time. "Searing gorge is bad enough, but to outline Dun Morogh, the Dwarf homeland?! Those gryphon-riders were known for taking down dragons! We're dead if they spot us."
"Not with me around!" shrilled a goblin from behind. "How did everyone just forget about waking up the genius goblin? I am your savior, you know."
"How so, Chappy?" Scarlet replied with a grin. Everyone else seemed as inquisitive as the princess.
"Well, I've managed to perfect my one-and-only Sly Cannon! This defensive weapon will send any gryphon-whatchamacallit teleporting miles away in seconds, with a half day charge rate only! And thanks to yours truly, the zeppelin you are all boarding is equipped with five, not two or three, five! Get your additionals while supplies last!"
"Nice sales pitch!" Jedo commented.
"Really? Why, thank you!"
"That's good news, but I should add that today is King Anduin Wrynn's royal funeral," Pala added in a low tone. "Alliance security will be high, so please be extra careful. Meanwhile, Scarlet and I shall try thinking of a perfect diplomatic solution that will convince Lady Jaina of our cause. Now hurry off, and may the spirits guide you."
They were already halfway through their perilous journey to the great Fort Watertight, taking off shortly after a brief pause at the outer edge of Grim Batol. The skies were clear with only a few powdery clouds in the distance, nothing more. With such luck, they would be free of detection for another hour or so. While the risk of danger was apparent, the area once inhabited by orcs and dragons long ago, Jedo and his batch of men were taking in the war-ravaged lands with sudden awe. He knew that Azeroth was a savage world torn apart by constant warfare, but seeing the aftermath of the battles with his own eyes was heartfelt and scarring to the mind. Even Jedo's teammates onboard who Scarlet handpicked herself could not believe the thoroughness of the destruction. They could only stare down from atop the zeppelin with wide eyes.
"This brings back memories of the attack on Winnea . . ." one of the men clad in light armor spoke out.
"Yeah, it sure does," replied one soldier in heavier, well-fitted armor, "but you gotta admit, Wentinus took the biggest blow, especially with the townsfolk." Jedo could only stare at the older men as they kept on reminiscing about their homeland.
"Oh, that's right, this boy here doesn't know two flying gryphons about Palatinus," said a man in leather armor. He gave Jedo a snicker, looking out over the land below in a dreamlike state. "Boy, you would have loved it back at home. The land was more beautiful than this, the skies were majestic, the women were gorgeous."
"If you ask me, things are a little too much alike on our worlds," Jedo added. "Scarlet told me lots of things that sounded like things you'd find here."
"Well, he does have a point," laughed the man in light armor.
"Kamrik, don't take the boy's side!" joked the man in heavier armor. "Just what world are you from?"
"Ha! Troi actually has a sense of humor!" cried out the man in leather armor, the laughter intensifying.
"Troi, Kamrik, Gunther!" came a feminine, yet commandeering voice. "If Aisha heard you all now, she would be ashamed! As far as I can tell, you are all on duty, plus you have a cadet amongst yourselves."
"O-Oh, sorry, Katreda," called out Kamrik, his youthful face filled with apologetic fear.
"It won't happen again," Gunther promised.
"Relax!" It was Troi playing the laid-back attitude, one to Katreda's dismay. "It's Katreda! She's probably only kidding!"
Jedo noticed the blonde, pretty lady turn red with frustration, but before he could even open his mouth, she already had hers open. "Troi, get to the bottom deck and set up our supplies and gear, and I'm not kidding at all! The room had better be spotless by the time I get back down there."
Troi swallowed hard, forgetting just how fierce Katreda was when she was on active duty. "Yes, sir, er, ma'am . . ."
"I believe we've met already, if briskly. I'm Katreda Birall, the one in charge of this operation. Don't mind these amateurs. They are good for morale, though." Katreda wore light, yet protective armor, probably meant for maneuverability, indicating she was likely an excellent swordsman. She appeared to be a knight, though her braided, golden hair and light-hearted blue eyes would detest to that. Still, she seemed to be determined as a leader.
"Yeah, be careful," Gunther said in a serious tone, "she's not as delicate as she looks."
"I've heard much about you, Jedo," she continued. "You are brave to have entered the Stockades, and then journey off to some heavily-guarded prison. I admire you."
"Well, I should've been a paladin by now . . . I guess it's only natural." At Jedo's reply, Katreda only smiled.
"Don't get discouraged! You want to know what I was before becoming a paladin myself? I was a simple cleric, not even a priest! My father never wanted me to get involved in the armed forces, but had I remained with my father's decision, I wouldn't be here fulfilling my duty to protect the princess."
"Wow, you're an ambitious woman-um, paladin." Katreda giggled at his attempt to appease her, shaking her head. She then went down below deck to deal with Troi, who at that point was arranging supplies to his disappointment.
"Don't worry about her," Gunther said to Jedo as he brandished his short bow and arrows. "She'll soften right up once she gets to know you. Of course, she didn't seem to have anything negative to say about you anyway."
"You guys make her seem so . . . scary," said Jedo confusedly.
"Well, she obviously didn't train you!" Kamrik called out.
"Bah! She only joined the armed forces to stay close to Troi!" Gunther snickered at his own statement, feeling satisfied at knowing a little more than he led on. Jedo remained silent, feeling slightly out of place.
"Well, either way, she could-"
Whatever Kamrik was about to say was cut off shortly after by a very loud, very annoying scream. The sound came from the front deck, which the three immediately dashed for. Upon entering the captain's cabin, they beheld two goblins appearing completely frantic. Gunther stepped forward, trying to see just what it was that had them scrambling about, while Kamrik tried his hand at understanding the green little creatures, which didn't go too well. Meanwhile, Jedo was off for the bottom deck.
"Hey," Gunther shouted, stepping out of the cabin, "where do you think you're going?"
"If they saw enemies, we had better get the defense system going," Jedo stated. "What do you see?"
"Nothing, yet."
Jedo nodded, and, just before reaching the stairs to the lower cabins, was stopped short by Katreda and an anxious Troi. The former cleric gave Jedo her own look of concern, yet hers was more resolute.
"What's going on?" she asked, knowing something was wrong.
BOOM!
The entire zeppelin rocked back and forth to the tackle of a very strong foe. Trying to regain balance, Jedo replied as quickly as he could. "We don't know, but we have to alert Chappy and get the cannons ready."
"Already did," Katreda responded. Gunther then appeared, bow in hand, bearing a worried look. It was likely what they feared most.
"Lady Katreda, it's the gryphon-riders of Ironforge!"
Katreda bit her lower lip for just a few seconds, and was then cut off from her next words when one of the very gryphon-riding dwarves let out a war cry right beside the rails in which they stood by.
"Ah! Xadek's boy! You're the dirty bunch who brain-washed his boy and killed His Majesty of Stormwind."
At that moment, they had their weapons unsheathed and prepared for combat, except with the gryphon aloft, only Gunther, by right, could attack. He swiftly and deftly drew an arrow at lightning speed, firing it with almost the same equal as an elf. However, the gryphon was far too agile, dodging the projectile with ease as the dwarf laughed hardily at the archer's folly.
"To the front deck, Troi! They need defense!" At Katreda's order, the mighty Troi, donned with heavy, bronze-plated armor and a large spear, hurried over to the goblin's cabin. "Gunther, I want you to stay hidden behind the cabin, attacking when you can. Jedo and I will concentrate on guarding the rear."
After the orders were given, they heard the Sly Cannons fire once, twice, thrice. Of the times, they only managed to hear one dwarf shout out in confusion, and then silence. The cannons were the best defensive weaponry available, sending them miles away in an instant. After another booming shot from the cannon, it was a gryphon squawking confusedly this time, followed by a raspy "whoa" from a stocky, short dwarf. He landed on deck with an audible thud, catching both Katreda and Jedo's attention. They turned to the bearded man, who already had twin-axes out upon fully standing. To their surprise, he tossed one of them, nearly beheading the young commander.
"I'll take his right, you take his left, strike when his flank is exposed," she quickly said, just as the dwarf cried out and charged. When the dwarf's weapon was in reach, he swung horizontally at the "traitorous" boy, forcing Jedo to leap back. The swift, sudden attack, however, was directed mainly for Katreda, the axe jutting downward toward her in full force a second after. The dwarf let out a strained growl as he meant to lay the deathblow that quick, but Katreda had her shield in place within a flash of that single second. She let out a strangled gasp as she stood firmly and took the impact given to the shield. Any ordinary person would have gone flying off the zeppelin with a strike like that, but the girl recovered in a sheer moment.
Nonetheless, the dwarf recovered just as quickly. As Jedo rushed forward, he swung his blade diagonally from left to right, confident that his reach was guaranteed. The bulky dwarf, though small and not so agile, sharply swung left. In one well-timed instant, he parried the sword, knocking Jedo back nearly five feet. With his lack of speed, the dwarf certainly exercised his inhuman strength. With a quick jump, the gryphon-rider still gryphon-less brought his axe up and struck the wooden plank beneath him, rumbling the very flooring his adversaries stood on. The thunder-clap bought him time to jump the rails and land on his nearby comrade's gryphon, realizing he was no match for them without his loyal stead.
"He's getting away!" Katreda shouted, and at that moment, they were literally gone, their smiles disappearing as Chappy's Sly Cannon teleported them somewhere probably in the middle of the ocean. After the two sighed in relief, they had the pleasure of seeing one dwarf plummet off his mount and filled with arrows. Obviously, Gunther's hiding spot was quite a good one. There was a loud shout that sounded like "retreat". In moments, the skies were silent again, save for the humming of the zeppelin's engine. Jedo was afraid to see what damage the dwarves had done to their ship . . . or their comrades.
"Is everyone well?" Katreda cried out, rushing to the front cabin. She first ran into Troi, who had apparently done his job, and well, too, for there were dents on his armor from the infamous Stormhammers the dwarves loved to use. He stood triumphant, although his armor needed fixing and his round shield no longer was a shield.
"Ah! My hero!" the goblin captain shouted out in a tone that suggested he had no other material way to thank him. All seemed well. Kamrik, the younger of the bunch, remained exceptionally healthy, thanks to the fact that he remained the entire time within the safety of the cabin.
"And you call yourself a sword master," Gunther shot at him.
"Hey, it took awhile to understand what they were saying!"
"Pff, in our world, goblins were part of the demonic armies," again Gunther shot back. "They probably want to see us dead."
"Well, this isn't our world," Katreda retorted, "so stop your grumbling. We survived, and that's all that matters."
"Yeah, but those were just scouts; they'll be back, and with reinforcements," Troi added blearily.
"And vengeance," the emerald little captain chimed in, "don't forget vengeance!"
The group pretended not to hear the creature and headed down to their private cabins to prepare for the infiltration plan. If they took any longer, the dwarves would alert Stormwind of their presence and most likely send more men to Fort Watertight. That would prove most impossible for their likes.
The zeppelin made a roundabout turn, dodging Menethil Harbor's line of sight. When they were several miles from the Silverpine coast, the ship came to a full stop.
"All those who care to depart for . . . lemme see . . . Fort Watertight, we've landed!" At the cue from the goblin, the gang headed for the rope ladder that led down onto land. Off in the distance, the fort loomed over craggy rocks, its spotlights patrolling the ground below. Impenetrable, towering fences with barbed protrusions inspired by the orcs lined the perimeter of the prison installation, making it one of the most dangerous-looking places Jedo had ever seen. In addition, guard towers lined the exterior of the prison itself, fully alert to intruders, escapees, and any form of magic. It wasn't only watertight, it was also a deathtrap.
"Jedo, everyone," came a distant voice from somewhere yet nowhere at all, speaking directly to the group. "It is I, Pala. I'm communicating telepathically. Several engineers from Stormwind managed to leak information to Strahad. They said only one prisoner was ever able to escape Fort Watertight since its creation, a man you know all too well."
"Well, who is it?" Troi mentally asked her, assuming it was the only way to respond to her.
"Kolark."
"Huh?"
"What?"
"How did a merchant get stuck in one of the Alliance's best prisons? Did he sell the missing King Wrynn off the blackmarket or something?"
In response to Gunther's comment, Kamrik could only smile. "Ah, the blackmarket. Brings back memories of home."
"A shame you didn't want him coming along with us," Katreda mentally told the tauren shaman. "He could have guided us in just as easily as out."
There was a brief awkward silence. Then, they heard Pala sigh. "Apparently, none of you checked the emergency food compartment below the deck of the zeppelin?"
Yet another odd moment struck the others.
"You mean . . ."
"The entire time . . . ?!"
"We need a new merchant."
-After desperate contemplation . . . orc base camp, somewhere in Felwood . . .
It was like a calling. Everything Nazgrel hoped to bestow upon his fellow people would have been for nothing. All his plans, all the sacrifices, everything. Nazgrel realized that his plans were more head-first, more quicker, that his leadership would and could bring the Orcish Horde back to its ultimate prime. Thrall would just throw his ideals and ambitions far away, only to enter another slow, painful progression into society. He was too human inside.
Nazgrel did not hate Thrall. No. But he had to follow his heart. Nazgrel needed to choose his own path, not one of an orc with a human heart. Those who would trust in him would follow, and those who doubted him would part. And so he left, not saying a word to Vol'jin or the still-battered Eitrigg. Perhaps once his battles were over, they would see what an impact he made on this orc world. Or maybe they'd shun him away for committing such horrors. Still, it was his choice, and he wouldn't be swayed.
Felwood was where the old crone would be located, according to this "friend" of his. He didn't specify where in Felwood, but he did say she would seek him out. No matter to him; his base camp was well-established. He made sure to save extra provisions for just an occasion. Although he should have been on the Azeroth continent waging war against the humans, the new forces should be just the ticket they needed to finish their bitter rivals. The night, though, was still young. Perhaps after his meeting, he could attempt an attack posthaste.
"Still pondering about matters?" came a slithering voice from the path that led further into some woods.
"Are you this mistress Exarthalos spoke of?" he asked, seemingly undaunted, if not fraught.
"Yes, the name is Zeda, young warrior. I am here to lend you the assistance you need to crush the Alliance once and for all." Zeda, the crone spoken of earlier, was a peculiar creature, not exactly human, or orc, elf, or undead. Her face, for the most part, was veiled behind her violet hood. Her body was carefully draped by a robe that seemed to coil around her thin, wiry shape. It almost seemed as if she floated over the ground, only her robes touching the ground.
"Well . . . ? Where are those forces your lackey spoke of?"
"My dear Nazgrel," the strange lady said with much mirth. "You must remain patient. My people will not obey those who do not hold the proper . . . prerequisites." Nazgrel's eyes began to narrow as she held out something in her hand. The object was pinkish-red, shiny, and round; it was merely a fruit. "In the Twisting Nether is an area that has been blessed. No one except my Dark One and his followers know of this place. It is where we forge our army. There, a large World Tree lies, bearing this fruit, the fruit of the Netherworld. One bite, and the will in your body will take over. Strength will flow through you. The Infernal Aura shall grant you dominance over my men, only they are at your beckoning."
Nazgrel took the fruit in his hand, but hesitated, the small fruit seeming so meaningless. Was this a ploy to poison him, or something? No, it couldn't be, not when his forces stood behind him, ready to hack anything that so much as touched him wrong. He gave her one last look of desperation.
"In order for it to work best, you need think only about the goal at hand. Otherwise, unspeakable things may occur. And do not be stingy; give one to each of your men! The more with the Aura, the stronger you'll become!"
Tyrande and her forces were just departing Auberdine, the base nearest to Talonbranch Glade, determined to bring the evil woman to justice. Much to the priestess' discontent, it took quite some time before she could muster up those willing to accompany her and, at the same time, get Fandral's approval for it. Shockingly, he allowed it, his longing for Teldrassil's "completetion" temporarily put on the backburner. As for her assignment for helping the Furbolgs, it seemed that too would be placed on the backburner, for something horrible was befalling the world again. First, Malfurion's situation, then the Teldrassil incident, and now the demons run rampant as close to home as possible. It was difficult enough to divide her troops just so Shandris and Fandral could protect Darnassus from harm. If that old crone Zeda wanted to die so badly, though, she'd make sure she had the troops.
Tyrande's scout returned just then, breaking her from her moment of thoughts. The scout, a female rogue with a long bow in hand, reported immediately.
"Priestess, there are demons scattered about our path. Yet, they are highly unorganized and sparse in numbers. Shall we?"
The priestess nodded, feeling a bit unsure about the attack. She already sent an owl back to Darnassus to report what they've done thus far, and she expected one back. However, she could not remain docile anymore; she ordered her troops onward.
"Cut us a path," Tyrande commanded, the night elf archers and warriors easily eradicating the demonic denizens along the way. The demon militia included few satyrs and the occasional doomguard-like monsters. Still, with their numbers greatly reduced since their last encounter, it seemed very few casualties, if any, would be found this battle.
The mighty priestess of Elune finished plunging an arrow on the last filthy satyr when some rustling came from the trees afar. "Wait," she told her brethren, signaling toward the sound. "Meld, my warriors of the night, and approach carefully."
And so they did. They carefully passed through the trees and shrubbery of the mysterious Felwood, seeking out their enemy, until there was a sudden gasp.
"Priestess Tyrande!" called out one elf in a whisper. "Hurry."
"What is it?" When she arrived at the elf's side, she witnessed a horrifically injured night elf, his chest still moving. "He still lives! Hurry, bring over the priests!" Even Tyrande prayed to Elune to keep this man's life whole.
"Waste . . . not . . . your energy on a lowly elf . . . as me." his voice was strengthening a bit, but the wounds were mortal. When the priests arrived at the scene, Tyrande ceased her attempts at healing so that she could speak with the dying elf. The priests alone would be strong enough to recuperate him, after all.
"What happened?" she questioned, her face distorted with concern. "Has Talonbranch Glade already . . ."
"Turn . . . back, Priestess. You are not ready for death . . . yet-"
At that very same moment, an arrow with skulls attached at the end pierced the chest of the elf, straight into his heart. His murderer then fled toward the doomed outpost, obviously leading them there.
"Those mongrels! How many more innocents must die?!"
Tyrande took a moment to control herself, not allowing the demons to build the hatred they thrived on within herself. Instead, she led her troops onward aboard her tigress, Ash'alah, the graceful creature leaping over dead trees and logs with ease. When the clearing was finally within sight, Tyrande strained her eyes, searching for the view that she was so used to seeing. The trees gave them the gift of building rather than always summoning ancients, which were used mainly at war. And although Talonbranch was technically a base, they did contain stone and wood as its foundation.
Talonbranch Glade could always be seen from this distance, yet it wasn't Talonbranch that stood there at all. Odd, yet familiar structures were in the way, filled with many protruding barbs like the orcs'. It was then that she noticed. Behind them were the remains of Talonbranch. The tragic sight created a silent outrage within the normally placid elves. It appeared the wretched orcs desecrated their structures and stole the lumber for their own. Tyrande had to be honest with herself; as much as she disliked the orcs, Thrall was not the type to do such a thing. Someone must have taken power, perhaps Thrall being overthrown. There was always that potential, she imagined. However, she could not allow the defilement they would commence in these woods. The elves had long sought some solution to Felwood, and should her quest on the flying isle prove worthy, their wishes would come true.
Slowly shaking her head, Tyrande turned to her brethren. "Elyana," she called to her next ranking soldier, a huntress mounted on her panther, "begin building a base here as quickly as possible. You'll have no choice but to summon the ancients."
As she finished speaking, she rose her bow to the skies, releasing a glowing arrow that shone all the way up. Runes appeared above the elves, and before they could say another word to each other, from the woods came the wisps. They immediately began to take root as the priestess finalized her chanting.
"I'll be back with the details," she told Elyana. "I cannot say that the news will be good, so make sure our forces are fully equipped for combat by the time I return."
"You take care of yourself, Priestess. Don't worry about us."
Tyrande took off with several of her strongest guards, particularly huntresses armed with glaives and warden rings. With the druids gone, she had very little options as far as diversity in defenders, but the huntresses were just as deft with their bows as they were with their other weapons, making them one of the Sentinels' most valued units. The meager-numbered group halted when they reached close enough to the orc encampment, Tyrande actually hoping to make their presence known. The faster the questioning, the easier the actions. However, the fact that they stood near orc grounds, yet not a single orc stood present, not even a peon, unnerved them at that point. Where were they all? It took at least a few to build these structures. After all, she'd never imagine them to vacate their own base.
"Stay sharp, my sisters," she told them, not needing to say another word.
"Priestess, over there!" called out the huntress on her right, pointing at a shambling figure deep within the orc base. Tyrande suddenly became tense; perhaps it wasn't the orcs, but the demons that massacred the night elf base, just as Zeda had said. That would explain the derelict Horde outpost here. But why build it here to begin with? There were too many questions to ask and too little time to ponder on them. Tyrande ordered Ash'alah forward, the tiger barely striding ahead confidently; it must be the demons, she thought.
"Who treads Kaldorei grounds?" she asked loudly enough. The figure paused, shaking as though he were choking. After it came out of the shadows, she realized he was an orc, shaking with laughter. "Speak, orc!"
"These are our grounds, now, wretch! Felwood is orc territory. I suggest you run back to your trees up north, elf."
"So it was you who razed Talonbranch Glade! Such savagery will not be tolerated. You had better prepare your men, for I shall obliterate you all in Elune's name!"
"I don't think so, elf . . ."
In that same instant, purple flames rose up from his very palms and over the rest of his muscular, armored body. His eyes appeared vivid, his teeth were clenched. He unsheathed a battle axe and put his wolf hood over his head as he roared into the night skies.
"That aura . . . you've consorted with demons! How could you, after your Warchief freed you all from their curse?"
"How could we?" asked the orc, still alone and glowing. "That's a very simple question. We now have the power to end this pitiful war and create a new future for our people! No more trying to make peace with pompous, snotty creatures such as yourself! No more accepting such atrocities from your precious human animals! No more!"
"You are only bringing your own people's downfall! By helping the Burning Legion recuperate, you shall bring us all toward damnation!"
"Burning Legion? Hah! Do not speak such rot, elf! I work solely for the orcs, not some god who wants everything dead!"
"He is correct," came another from amidst the wreckage of Talonbranch, the voice of Zeda. "We work for him, now. No longer shall we be tied to Sargeras' whims! We want our own freedom."
"You!"
Tyrande readied her bow, but could not find herself to pick up a single arrow, for in front of her stood more hostages, presumably from the destroyed outpost. It was the same situation, the helpless elves tied up, ready to be sacrificed just as in Shadowglen. But she couldn't make the same mistake twice.
"I wouldn't try that again . . . Priestess," Zeda warned. "Your people have suffered enough."
"You . . . are right, demon."
In a reluctant act to cease suffering, Tyrande began whispering something very softly, so subtle that Zeda and the orc leader became puzzled. In a bright flash, the demon only stared in awe as the elven prisoners slumped to the ground. Their bodies began to disintegrate into ashes, bright wisps emerging and fading into the shadows of the woods.
"You think you've ended those elves' suffering, but it's only just begun."
At her beckoning, Zeda raised her hands, summoning forth the others. In swarms, orcs and demons joined together from the fel-infested woods behind the base, draped in blood and glowing just as that one orc had. So many met together and created an unimaginably large force, instilling terror within the fewer elves.
"You had better prepare yourself, priestess, for the moment of reckoning has come!" Zeda continued. "No longer shall any other inferior race daunt us as if we were all just a pack of monsters. Fear us and know your place in this world!
"We must warn our brothers and sisters!" Tyrande told her sentinels. The stunned elves nodded firmly despite their current situation, answering the priestess with stalwart confidence.
The demons, meanwhile, took no interest in following them back. What was Zeda up to, controlling orcs like that? Had she actually brainwashed them? No, although given the circumstances of war, Tyrande knew that Thrall would never negotiate with, let alone spare, demons. This must be some ploy by that demon. However, she did learn there were a handful of orcs who worked with the Burning Legion, although Zeda claimed they broke away from Sargeras. Too many thoughts filled the priestess' head in a matter of seconds. Before she even knew it, she was back at her base camp before a band of well-armed warriors and rooted ancients.
"Awaiting your orders," spoke Elyana in response to Tyrande's return. Tyrande merely met eyes with her fellow elf, narrowing her eyes.
"Prepare to attack, for the demons are afoot."
"Demons, not orcs?" Elyana said in shock.
At her words, the elves were quick to respond, moving every which way and gathering quivers and bows and readying their stead. Elyana had already readied her equipment, soon noticing a weary look on Tyrande's features.
"Are you feeling alright, Priestess? If you want, I can take command for awhile. No demon is ever going to attack Kaldorei civilians again after this!"
"No," Tyrande protested, "I have sworn to see this to the end. Indeed, what you say is correct; no longer shall these monsters torment our beloved people! When everyone is ready, we shall surround their encampment and strike relentlessly."
"Yes. I've already sent a sentry owl to call for any nearby mountain giants. Perhaps we should wait until they arrive? After all, their petty camp is merely a third of what ours shall be." Tyrande gave her soldier a grave look.
"Do not be fooled. The orcs' settlement is small, but within the tainted woods of Felwood lie the demons. We must remain vigilant."
Soon after their conversation, something quite bright shone at the horizon where she had taken off to just moments ago. It appeared in their strange fervor, the orcs had lit up torches and prepared for an immediate attack. Such recklessness was misleading, though. Why attack so abruptly, so unorganized? Still, it would be devastating if they reached their still-unripe base; the ancients weren't even completely grown yet. They didn't have their druids to speed up their production, so there would be no other choice but to attack.
The orc numbers weren't too high, she noticed. As they trampled their way over, axes and swords in hand, the ground beneath the slim, nimble elves trembled horribly. Tyrande, in her quick thinking, knew they still had an advantage.
"To the forests, my brothers and sisters! Get as far as you can without being detected. Meld in the darkness and strike unseen at the foe. If we can whittle down their forces now, there would be less of them to fight in the skirmish!"
The elves heeded their bright leader's words, all except Elyana and her troops. Tyrande looked back at them in bewilderment, in a way, knowing what she intended to do.
"Priestess, I shall remain here in case of demon attacks. Concentrate on weakening the orcish army so that my forces can exact revenge! By the time they get to the camp, we'd be holding the fort."
"Elyana, we shall return very shortly to assist! You will not be fighting here alone!"
"Do your part, Priestess," she replied with much valor. "Whatever fate awaits me lays in Elune's hands. Besides, the mountain giants are well on their way by now."
Tyrande knew time was running shorter by each word they exchanged, and so did Elyana. The young huntress gave her another confidant nod, as if reassuring her. Reluctantly, Tyrande led Ash'alah into the cover of the woods. Tyrande needed to stand her ground, and so did her people. Elyana was right. Taking one last deep breath, the Priestess of Elune marched on toward the slaughter of the tainted.
"This is an outrage!" cried out a most shrilling, icy voice. On the frozen wastelands of Northrend, as north as one could go on Azeroth, sat the disgruntled Lich King. "This is a complete outrage!" he repeated, much to the discontent of his general, the Nerubian, Anub'Arak.
"Oh, mighty Lich King, be patient!" the Nerubian suggested in as much a disquieted tone as a giant insect-like behemoth could.
"Patience?!" he spat, nearly rising from his seat, the Frozen Throne. "Hell, I'll show you patience!"
Yes, Arthas, patience, whispered a calm voice solely in the Lich King's head. I have thought up a solution for the moment, but shall need a buffer of some sort to hold us up until then.
"Ner'zhul," the Lich King replied, no one else hearing it except for the spirited Ner'zhul himself. "I've sensed your workings within myself recently. Is it true . . . yet a new plague?"
Anub'Arak, having seen the merging, already understood what was happening. After Arthas and Ner'zhul combined their consciences together to "recreate" one entity, the physical product was quite evident. However, because Ner'zhul was an elite warlock and Arthas had only acquired his gift recently, both souls clashed more violently than most would have predicted. The result was minor, though. Arthas and Ner'zhul, still known as one, the Lich King, would need a little more time before the single creation could manifest. That didn't mean the Scourge was at a disadvantage. Now, the greatest handler of the dark arts was no longer immobile, and the Death Knight that finished the devastation of the Azeroth continent remained to obliterate yet again.
Incorrect. The only reason Sylvanas can get a stronger grip on our Scourge is because, in essence, she is concentrating all of her energy on absorbing the dark magic in my plague, thus breaking the bond we have to them. Their "plague" acts merely as a magic deterrent, allowing Sylvanas' job to be easier. In that respect, my "new plague" is really the same plague, only with a magic seal on it.
"You are quite cunning," Arthas replied seemingly to himself. "A seal so that wretched elf can no longer meddle in our affairs. So, when can you complete this?"
Just hold off Sylvanas long enough. I shall have it done as quick as my ability can allow.
The Lich King slammed his fist against his pale-colored armrest, fury apparent within his temperament. If the plan were to succeed, that would mean losing his most trusted partner, Kel'thuzad. The sacrifice would be worth it in the long-run. Kel'thuzad wouldn't have it any other way, anyhow.
"Is my lord well again?" Anub'Arak questioned cautiously.
"Do not send the reinforcements," the Lich King commanded. The enormous insect fluttered its clear, glassy wings in astonishment.
"The Nerubians will obey," he replied nonetheless. "And what of us? Shall we await their endeavor of doom upon their arrival to Northrend?"
"Maybe, if you want to perish in a heartbeat," came a voice off in the distance.
"Who dares challenge our might?!" Anub'Arak shrilled, rushing before his king. Out of the shadows stood a vague figure of a man, his cloak flowing in the frozen breeze. Somehow, he got through unnoticed.
"Someone who sensed your king's desire, his ambition."
"Stand aside," the Lich King ordered his Nerubian soldier. "He is either an ally . . . or an utter fool."
"Precisely," stated the man, his face unveiling. "I have a no intention of challenging the King of the Damned. In fact, it is much to my interest that you be victorious in this little war. My agents have already arranged for an advantageous position for you down in the Plaguelands."
His aura is strong! Use him to stall! Use him!
"Care to chat about it in depth?" the mysterious human asked.
"Yes." Yes.
For once in a long while, the Lich King thought in unison, a sign of good things to come. All that mattered was the victory at hand. A wide grin of coldness spread across the tarnished face of the dark king.
