Author's Note: This chapter is slightly disturbing towards the end. So don't get too squeamish, eh? :P
And oh yeah, thanks to all you guys who're reading this work. It's my greatest honour to see it being read. :)
Part VII - The Fall
Chapter 1 - The Culling
"Tremble! Quake! These are your final hours, Undercity! Our march will turn the heavens themselves crimson! Blood for the Ebon Blade - let Tirisfal drown in it!" Baron Sliver
The final phase of the assault erupted on the second day of the Fifteenth Week. The Forsaken made no pretence, and made a fighting retreat within Silverpine Forest. In desperation, they raised several corpses, merely as meat shields than anything else, and threw them into the frontline, to delay the advancing Alliance forces as best as they could. It was a vain effort, for even with the freshly raised troops, the numerical ratio was almost three-to-one for the Forsaken, the Alliance being in such numbers that it seemed like an unstoppable juggernaut bearing down on them. In a frenzy of desperation, most of the Forsaken had taken to slaughtering all forms of life they encountered in Silverpine, and that meant quite literally, everything. Line discipline was at an end, most of the Forsaken soldiers often openly disobeying orders. It didn't seem to matter to these troops what happened now, for the terror of what awaited them seemed to have drowned out every other state of thought. Nonetheless, they did maintain a solid defensive line, preparing to defile the advancing enemy as best as they could.
For the Alliance, the sun shone. The final victory, which the late King Wrynn had schemed to achieve, but failed, seemed to now be within grasp. For the Worgen, it was particularly so - they had every intent of making the Forsaken suffer terribly for the invasion of Gilneas. But for many of the soldiers, entering Silverpine Forest was a bittersweet moment. Many of them were from Lordaeron, having fled as the Scourge had closed its grip during the Third War. Many were seeing their homeland for the first time in almost twelve years, and the state it was in was enough to give them a very cold fury, a sense of purpose that had not been seen throughout the campaign. Many Paladins, who accompanied the forces, were openly appalled at what they felt was an almost irredeemable land, at the damage wrought by the Plague of Undeath, and subsequently by the Forsaken. Visible too, were the traces of Forsaken experimentation and scorched earth, which only served to anger many of the Alliance forces further.
As such, when the front opened up on the third day of the Fifteenth Week, the Forsaken found themselves facing not just a supremely confident enemy, but also one which was furious and thirsting for revenge. The Forsaken, tempered with desperation, fought just as viciously. Not since the battles of Dun Morogh had the fighting been as intense as it was in Silverpine Forest that day. The Forsaken, however, made good use of the terrain, swampy and boggy as it was, to impede the march of the Alliance. For three days, the battle raged between Ambermill and the Sepulcher, the zone in the middle often changing hands as swiftly as twelve times a day. The limited movement range due to the surrounding hills and the dense forest vegetation only served to hinder the Alliance march. Casualties on both sides peaked, with the total dead being numbered as high as 2,000 all told on the first day alone.
But the Forsaken were fighting a losing battle. Had there been enough Plague, the battle could have gone on endlessly, as they would have kept on resurrecting the fallen to fight for them. There wasn't enough, and as the third day dawned, the final cauldron of Plague was finally emptied. Yet, the Forsaken fought on. They had one last resort up their sleeve, one which was as devastating to their surroundings, as it would be to all within.
Many of the Royal Apothecaries were, it is true, Warlocks. And extremely powerful ones, at that. In a final act of defiance, these Warlocks called down storms of fire from the sky, setting the forest on fire. To add to this, many of the trees were dead and rotting, and made excellent fuel for the fires, resulting in the blaze spreading faster than expected. In this blazing inferno, the Alliance and Horde fought on, losing as many men to the fires and the falling trees as to each others' blades. It was indeed a terrible fight, and it has come dopwn in song and in plays as one of the fiercest and most desperate battles ever to be seen.
Even with the forest on fire, however, the Alliance did not halt. Their casualties in Silverpine were high, almost 7,000 men being lost. Many of those who were set on fire jumped into Lordamere Lake in desperation, only to be cut apart by ravenous Murlocs. The Forsaken lost some 3,500 men and an additional 3,200 freshly risen troops. The situation was worsened, since there were no longer any supplies, the Gilneas docks having come under Alliance control, and the Bilgewater Fleet sunk. The Forsaken also had, in addition to their battle-weary troops, some 1,500 more men from the Hand of Vengeance in Northrend, who had also brought with them the last of the Plague supplies (which also did not last very long).
The firestorm finally ended after a small strike force of Worgen of the GLF managed to sneak past the Forsaken lines and assassinate the Apothecaries, though several Worgen were killed in the subsequent escape. But by the time the fires finally died out, there was very little left of Silverpine Forest except for a battered, burned out husk, save for a small patch near the coast.
Yet, the Forsaken were pushed back, not just because the Alliance had the advantage of superior numbers, not just because they had exhausted their Plague supplies, but because they had committed the one error that is inexcusable in War - they had lost the battle in their minds. As long as one believes one can win, and plans for it, nothing is impossible. Here, the Forsaken, demoralised and with indiscipline rife, had already considered themselves defeated, and so set themselves up for their own fall. They had become their own worst enemies. And in more ways than one, since by now, there was little to distinguish them from the Scourge, save that they wore better armour and could speak relatively intelligently. In every other way, the Scourge showed, in their casual brutality, in their indiscipline, and worst of all, in their mode of combat.
The Worgen shone in the battles for Silverpine, ruthlessly striking with overwhelming force wherever possible, and when disarmed, they were just as deadly. For them, every step they took towards the Undercity was one step closer for their vengeance against the Dark Lady for defiling their homeland. Besides, their knowledge of the terrain proved invaluable, since many of them were also soldiers from the Gilneas Liberation Front. Their hit-and-run tactics further exhausted the Forsaken, as they desperately tried to deal with all the threats facing them, and failed miserably in the process.
By the end of the Week, the Sepulcher finally fell after the Dark Irons unleashed their Warlock magic in a storm of Infernals and meteor strikes until nothing was left standing. Almost immediately as the main crypt caved in upon itself, the Forsaken broke into a total rout, and fled in disorder to the Undercity, where they sought to barricade themselves in, and hopefully decimate the Alliance with the fresh Blood Elven troops they were expecting as reinforcements.
By midday of the first day of the Fifteenth Week, Army Group Valiance entered Tirisfal. Leading the Army Group was the Ebon Blade under Lord Mograine, thirsty for retribution, seeking to free Knight Deathweaver. Following them were the Dark Iron Dwarves, maddened with the lust of slaughter. Behind them were the masses of Alliance soldiers, chomping at the bit for vengeance against the Forsaken, for by this time, they had seen nearly the complete extent of defilement wrought by them.
Not since the Battle of Angrathar the Wrathgate had the Alliance been so close to victory. To their chagrin, the rear entrance to the Undercity had been collapsed by the Forsaken, which meant that only a direct assault upon the city was possible. Within a few hours, the Alliance completely encircled the Ruins of Lordaeron, waiting eagerly for the order to charge, the siege engines running at full steam.
However, General Crowley ordered a halt, knowing that a particularly nasty surprise for the Forsaken was coming to fruitition. That same evening, the Silvermoon Army arrived at the Undercity as well. They pitched camp directly in front of the gates, facing the Alliance forces, and awaited the sunrise. As the sun rose the next day, the Alliance prepared to engage the enemy directly in front of them, but Crowley refused permission, stating that there was a surprise in store. The Banshee Queen herself came upon the ramparts overlooking the city entrance, with most of the remaining Forsaken troops stationed within the ruins - she was observing the field. Clearly, she was apprehensive of what was to come. She was waiting for the Blood Elves to begin, so she could deploy her own troops.
As seen from the Alliance frontlines the situation appeared this way - The Blood Elves were being led by emissaries of the Horde, who stayed in Silvermoon as representatives. As they formed up, the emissaries gave the order to attack, but it went unheeded. They repeated the order, with no result. Angrily, the Chief Emissary spun around to reiterate his order. As he did so, most of them shuddered on their mounts, and toppled forward. And many Alliance soldiers realised at that moment that they had been shot, for their backs were peppered with arrows. As they watched in amazement, the Horde banner was slowly reeled down, and was replaced by the old Lordaeron colours. As this was happening, the entire Blood Elven army spun around and faced the Undercity walls. The moment the banner had unfurled, a tumultuous war cry went up as the Blood Elves charged the walls. It was a stunning way to announce their defection. And one can but imagine the helpless fury and horror the Forsaken must have felt.
As they charged, Crowley announced that the Blood Elves had defected, and that with the ties of old, their victory would be forged. At this, he gave the order to commence, and a mass of troops swarmed the Undercity, the fury of the living unleashed at long last. The Forsaken, for their part, fought bravely, but they had no chance. The slaughter that followed turned the very air crimson, as the blood flew thick and fast. The siege engines battered down the walls, bringing them down nearly four centuries after their construction. The Forsaken attempted to halt them everywhere, at the Throne Room, at the elevators, in the halls, in every step. But the sheer numbers overwhelmed them. It was a desperate battle, with every bloody metre being fiercely contested over, every one of the city's four quarters being bled over till nothing was left standing for defence.
In spite of the hatred for the Forsaken, General Crowley has admitted that he did feel a twinge of pity, as have several other commanders, even from within the the Blood Elf units. For all their depravity, the Forsaken had fought hard, and died bravely. Which is, in a twisted way, a small form of redemption. One could still see that spark of stubborn determination that had characterised the citizens of Lordaeron, was still not completely gone from them.
Sylvanas herself was the last to be brought down, fighting in her Royal Chambers as hard as she could, knocking away many with her arrows and her terrible Banshee wails, her Deathguard elite and Deathstalker elite fighting to their last breath. But eventually, one stunning blow from General Crowley brought her to her knees and another knocked her unconscious. She was captured alive, and a terrible fate was in store for her.
Following this, the Undercity was ravaged totally. Many regions were simply blown up, and the discovery of hundreds of prisoners in the under crofts, most of them in a pitiable state, further stoked the fires of vengeance. No Forsaken was spared, save for some who were able to slip past the melee and flee to the surface, slipping away into Brill. And not for long. Many were simply torn apart where they stood, their cries of mercy ignored. Once the area had been cleared of all undead, the soldiers retreated, and explosives placed by the Dark Irons and their Ironforge cousins caved in the entire Undercity upon itself. All tunnels were stamped out, completing the destruction so utterly that today, only a few traces remain of what lay beneath, traces that will soon wear away with time, as they have already begun to do so.
Not a few hours after this, the Alliance exploded across Tirisfal in a storm of death and destruction, slaughtering every single form of undeath they could see, or any Horde officers unlucky enough to be in the region. Brill was razed to the ground, most of the inhabitants were slaughtered, save for a few, who were pitilessly interrogated for information. The last sector to fall was Deathknell, which resisted for a few hours, but also ultimately caved in under the sheer magnitude of the assault. Again, very few survived, save for some stragglers who desperately fled across Tirisfal, only to be cut down by rampaging Alliance soldiers and prowling Worgen.
The slaughter continued throughout the night, and even as dawn rose the next day, the Alliance slew and slew until piles of corpses dotted the entire region. Those few who were captured were lined up outside the ruins of Lordaeron, and systematically killed by Light magic, dying slowly and painfully, their screams met by jeers of derision from the assembled Blood Elf and other Alliance soldiers. Many were killed by setting them on fire as well, watching them burn to ashes being a particularly grim amusement the soldiers watched for.
Koltira Deathweaver was recovered, wounded, harassed and tired, but alive. The Death Knight Thassarian embraced him and led him away carefully, many of the other Death Knights following. He has since then made a full recovery, and his recounting of his imprisonment in the Undercity, as well as the conditions prevailing within, were of exceptional use in discovering the extent of Forsaken depravity. The full account can be found in the volume "Death's Embrace", present in the Stormwind Library's military section.
Sylvanas Windrunner met an extremely terrible fate, after her capture. To start with, she was flogged brutally by several Worgen, made to watch as the piles of corpses of her Forsaken were burned in front of her, one after the other, subsequently outraged (a despicable act that caused even the icons of Light carried by many of them to crumble in shame), and handed over to the Paladins, who submerged her in Light for almost half a day (and they halted only because their mana pool had run out). As she neared death, her Val'Kyr continuously kept resurrecting her with their sacrifices, allowing the torture to begin again. This went on until the last of her Val'Kyr (who had been captured by the Gilneans and kept specifically for this macabre purpose) were gone. This whole operation took almost four long, terrible days to complete. At the end of it, she was taken to the Maelstrom, where the burning embers of Deathwing still stand, and slain at last by General Crowley. Her lifeless form, which was impaled on a spike on the tallest stone reef in the area, is still there today, surrounded by magical traps so that none may resurrect her.
Following the fall of Tirisfal, some divisions were sent east to stamp out what remained of the Forsaken in Andorhal, but for the most part, the war had ended in the Eastern Kingdoms. Gone were the dreams of power the Forsaken had schemed to bring to fruit, in a storm of blood, darkness, misery and carnage. However, encouraging signs were visible, as Blood Elves and Humans fraternised with considerable ease, as if there had been no long separation at all. It was a spark of hope, one that never went out. Now, the more difficult task of rebuilding a shattered land began - a task which has still not been concluded. As King Anduin Wrynn remarked after he received the news of the fall of the Undercity -
"A storm has blown over the Eastern Kingdoms these past few months, and many have fallen before its frigid blast. But it was the Light's own wind, none the less, and a cleaner, brighter, and stronger land now lies in the sunshine, as the storm has passed. Now is the time to make sure that the sun shall shine bright for our homelands, and that it may never set for a long, long time to come, for not just Humans, but for the Dwarves, the Gnomes and the Blood Elves and High Elves as well. Let this dawn be the brightest this World has ever known."
And that ends the War in the Eastern Kingdoms. Don't worry, I'll cover the aftermath in the epilogue to this story. Do send in your suggestinos of what you would like to see happen in the aftermath of the War, and I'll add it to the epilogue. After all, there's a whole new world out there for the Alliance to build up!
If you want more detail in this chapter, send in the essentials of what you'd want to see, and I'll add that (with embellishments, naturally) to the chapter. So, let's see those imaginations work, good people. :)