And after the battle . . . Enjoy!
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25: In the Presence of Ash
The next week was a blur for Danthor, with only murky patches of memory coming to him, mostly doing mundane things like eating or drinking.
Still, a week after the assault on the Scarlet Monastery, Danthor slowly came around to full consciousness. He looked around, gathering his wits and trying to formulate exactly where and when he was.
"Looks like you're awake."
Danthor would've leapt up in his bed in surprise if he could, but the pain in his body stopped him from doing so. He looked at the author of the voice and saw that it was none other than Lethella Borman. She looked to be recovering from some wounds herself, yet she was still dressed in the typical battle mage chainmail attire, complete with a red headband. While he was sitting in a bed covered in bandages.
"Where am I?" he asked slowly.
"The recovery room in the cathedral wing," she answered. "You've been out for quite a while, you know."
Danthor looked around and saw several other wounded crusaders lying in bed. Still, he was still at the Scarlet Monastery, so that meant . . .
"So we fought them off, then."
Lethella grinned. "Yep. After seeing that all their leaders were killed—and how couldn't they with that big spectacle you made—the Forsaken lost all heart and started a retreat. We killed as many of them as we still could, but with heavy losses of our own, we were much more lenient."
Danthor nodded. "So what's happening now?"
"We've been completely focused on rebuilding for the past week," Lethella answered. "Repairing buildings, healing the wounded, calling in crusaders from all over Tirisfal to help, et cetera. And as far as we know, there've been no more planned attacks from the Forsaken."
"Good." He closed his eyes.
"Danthor?"
He opened his eyes. "Hmm?"
"I just wanted to say thanks," she said. "Without you, I don't think we'd be here today."
He smiled weakly. "Please, I'm just a common soldier."
"You're much more than that," Lethella replied. "You're a hero to everyone at the monastery, and you're—"
"Hey, he's finally up?"
Both of them looked at the entrance of the room to see Balean and Jonas entering through the door. The hunter scratched the back of his head and said to his companion, "See, we leave to go get some food for thirty minutes, and he's wide awake."
Both of them looked different than he remembered. Balean was now wearing more standard Scarlet Crusade red chainmail, complimented by a pair of pointed red shoulderpads. He, too, was wearing a red headband on his forehead. Quite a change from the leather of a grizzled tracker he was wearing previously.
Jonas wore the same type of chainmail, only with larger read shoulderpads resting on his broad shoulders. The biggest change was the red helmet now over his head, with an opening forming a T that allowed him to see and breathe. The helmet also had a pair of small red wings projecting from the sides of the helmet. Strapped to his back was a heavy-looking two-handed mace. He looked eerily similar to a Scarlet champion.
The two went over and kneeled down by his side. Jonas ruffled his hair and said, "Wide awake now are ya? We thought you'd be in that zombie-like state forever."
Danthor playfully slapped Jonas's hand away. He grinned and said, "Good to see you two as well."
"You should be grateful to us, you know," Balean stated. "We've been at your side for the entire week. Though I've been doing it to get out of the manual labor that comes with repairing the broken walls." He leaned in closer to the warrior. "You should especially be grateful to her."
"What?" asked Lethella. "Why?"
Jonas laughed. "She was the one who was here the most out of all of us. She barely left to eat or drink."
"Oh." Danthor looked at Lethella and saw that she was starting to turn red. He quickly changed the subject. "If you don't mind me asking, what's with the new armor?"
"Oh, this?" Jonas asked, taking off his helmet and setting it down next to him.
"This is the armor of newly promoted crusaders," finished Balean.
"You guys got promoted?"
Jonas nodded. "Whitemane saw the heroics displayed by all four of us when we decided to rally the crusaders to battle, so she put a good word in for us with Mograine, and before we knew it, we all got promoted. For example, I am now a Scarlet champion."
"And I have become Huntsman Balean. Quite an improvement in title over beastmaster, I think."
Danthor looked over at Lethella, who looked right back at him. "And you?" he asked.
She nodded. "You're now looking at Lethella the Warmage."
"Well that's great guys, really," Danthor said.
Jonas looked like he was hit with a realization, saying, "Oh, that reminds me."
He reached down under the bed and brought up an entirely new set of armor. "What's this?"
"Your new armor, of course," Balean said. "You've been promoted to a Scarlet knight, my friend."
"Really?" He was genuinely surprised. So soon after he'd been promoted to a defender, too. Looks like he really was moving up in the organization.
He looked at the armor. It was the same kind of chainmail he wore previously, with the biggest difference being that he now had two shoulder pads (And thank the Light for that, he thought to himself) that were similar to the ones Jonas was wearing and that he had a mail coif to protect his head. He saw that the sword was similar to what he had, but he stopped right when he saw the shield resting at the bottom.
It was burnished and appeared to be made of a stronger metal than copper, unlike his last shield. Still, it was clearly strong, yet lightweight. What remarked him most about it was its design. It was white and had a red trim around the edges and a red flame right in the center, just like the tabard of the Crusade.
"A gift from Mograine personally," Jonas remarked. "He said only the best crusaders get to use an aegis like that."
Danthor nodded absently. Then, Balean said, "Oh shit, almost forgot." He turned to Danthor and Lethella. "While we were out, we were hearing rumors of a visitor looking for specific crusaders. Apparently, he's high-ranking in the Crusade."
"Who?" asked the warmage.
Balean was about to answer, but as if by magic, the very man walked through the door, saying, "I'm looking for crusaders Jonas, Lethella, Balean, and Danthor. Might they be here?" He spoke rather quickly.
"That's us," Danthor said, raising his arm.
The man saluted and walked over to them. He was taller than most humans, standing a little over six feet. He had graying hair fashioned into a crew cut and a full beard to match. He dressed in very stylized red chainmail, and the red mail headband across his forehead (as opposed to the cloth ones Balean and Lethella wore), decorated two-handed sword strapped to his back, and Scarlet tabard signified by a gold trim and red vertical stripe down the middle through the flame said that he certainly did have rank within the Scarlet Crusade.
He stopped at the foot of the bed and looked at all of them, saluting again. "My name is Joshua Valdelmar, otherwise known as Crusader Lord Valdelmar of the Scarlet Crusade, acting general at Tyr's Hand in theEastern Plaguelands."
Unsure of what to do, all four of them saluted back.
Valdelmar looked the four crusaders over. "So I hear you're the four heroes that rallied the troops in a counterattack to save the monastery. Word of your deeds has spread all throughout the Crusade. I come at the order of High General Abbendis herself."
"What does she want with us?" chanced Balean.
"To the point. I like it," Valdelmar said curtly. "I've come to let you four know that you're being reassigned to serve at Tyr's Hand in the Plaguelands. Otherwise known as the Scarlet Enclave."
"Reassigned?" asked Danthor. "Does that mean our training is done?"
Valdelmar nodded. "Such is the truth of all who are reassigned to serve the Crusade elsewhere. Congratulations. It would appear that your prestige in the recent assault has made you very noticed. We'll leave early tomorrow morning with a handful of other crusaders."
Danthor didn't voice any complaints about leaving so soon. He would welcome getting out of the bed he spent the better part of a week in. Besides, he felt fine enough to travel. What did bother him was how sudden all of this was happening. "Don't we have some time to think about this?"
Valdelmar tilted his head quizzically, as if he didn't understand. Finally, he said: "I'm afraid not. This is an order from the high general herself. I will be escorting you to the Plaguelands tomorrow at dawn. I suggest you spend the rest of your time here packing whatever you need. Once again, congratulations. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a few more crusaders to track down."
He didn't leave any time for response, as he quickly turned around and left the room. Danthor supposed he knew this day would eventually come
("you are all here to be trained by me and the other leaders here until you are able to do combat with the undead. after that, some of you will stay behind here to help protect the monastery, but most of you will be shipped off to where the Crusade needs the most help")
but it certainly didn't expect it to happen this soon.
"Well that was . . . sudden," Lethella remarked.
All four of them agreed.
— — —
Scarlet Commander Renault Mograine sighed heavily, then rubbed his eyes. He didn't want to look at the reconstruction plans on the altar in the currently empty cathedral anymore. He knew the next few days planned already, and he had Herod to lead the crusaders in the construction.
Crusader Lord Valdelmar left early yesterday morning with about twenty of his finest crusaders. He knew it was a direct order from Abbendis, but that didn't mean he had to like it. Especially losing those four that had apparently rallied the troops enough to force the Forsaken back. He learned all this through Whitemane, of course. He was passed out during the time.
Still, he was fully recovered in a few days' time, and now focused on the construction. Every able-bodied crusader was busy working (with a few exceptions; there always were) to repair everything that was destroyed during the assault. Most of the work came from repairing the walls and giving the bodies a proper burial—both of which were time-consuming.
Sighing again, he looked around at the empty cathedral. The large hole through the door allowed him to hear all the noise outside, mostly of crusaders working. Sally Whitemane was busy praying in her private room, just across from the altar. He closed his eyes, feeling restless for some reason. After a few minutes, he noticed something peculiar. He couldn't hear any noise coming from the outside. He could only hear footsteps coming closer . . .
"Nice to see you again." The foreign voice had a powerful and echo-like quality to it.
Renault's eyes shot open. He looked down to see a human slowly walking down the processional towards him. The man wore matching cobalt-colored plate armor. It was heavily stylized with the design of chains and skulls, the most prominent skull being placed squarely on the chest-plate. He wore massive pauldrons that were also adorned with a skull on each whose eyes and mouth gave off a blue aura. The man wore a helmet that covered everything but his mouth. It was made to look like a fearsome skull, and had two large horns protruding straight upwards from both sides. He had a large blade strapped to his back. The strangest thing about his armor was that Renault couldn't immediately tell what kind of metal it was made out of. Its color made it look foreign to him.
One look at him and the commander immediately knew that he was a death knight—the most powerful warriors of the Lich King.
"Crusaders, to the cathedral!" Renault roared at the top of his lungs. "The Scourge have entered! To arms, my brothers!"
The death knight chuckled. "I'm afraid no one around will hear you. They're too busy either being raised from the dead or being eaten by my ghouls."
"What?"
The doors to High Inquisitor Whitemane's personal chamber opened and she came rushing out. "What is it, my champion?"
She stopped at Renault's side when she saw the death knight still walking towards both of them. He looked around at the cathedral and said, "Looks like you've been living relatively well since the last time I saw you. Since the betrayal . . ."
"Who are you?" Renault demanded.
The death knight chuckled yet again. "How soon we forget . . ."
"Enough!" Whitemane claimed, rushing towards the death knight with her staff at the ready. "Prepare to be purged by the Light!"
"Sally, wait!" yelled Renault.
Whitemane was about to strike, but the death knight was much quicker than she was, and faster than Renault could even see, he drew the blade at his back and dealt the high inquisitor a deathblow. She gave out one small cry before crumpling to the floor in front of him.
Renault immediately drew his mace and began running towards the death knight, yelling, "You monster! You—"
He stopped dead in his tracks as soon as he saw the weapon the undead was wielding. The sword was singularly large, with a red handle and hilt fashioned in an L in exactly the same style as the Crusade's banners. The blade itself was a solid rectangle of steel, having a diagonal end that led to a sharpened tip. The most noticeable thing about the sword was the semi-circle that was cut into the blade, a white skull with green eyes hovering just slightly above it.
Renault knew that blade. "That's . . . the Ashbringer . . ."
"Yes, you should know of it well," the death knight said. "Though it's been a bit corrupted since the last time you've seen it. An unfortunate result of you shoving it through our father's back."
"You're . . ."
The death knight chuckled yet again, taking off his helmet. "I'm surprised it took you this long to remember, brother."
His face was unmistakable. His flesh had taken on a sickly pale color and his eyes glowed a horrible blue, but the matted light-orange hair and face told no lies. Standing before the commander was Darion Mograine, son of Alexandros Mograine, and Renault's younger brother.
"Darion," Renault started. "How did you get a hold of the Ashbringer?"
"I'm sure you'd have no way of knowing," Darion said with disgust. "I mean, after you struck a deal with Dathrohan to lure our father into a trap at Stratholme, killing him with his own blade when he was weakened—and all for power and rank within the Crusade—I'd imagine you ran as fast as you could to escape punishment."
Renault was at a loss for words.
"Alexandros Mograine was turned into a death knight by Kel'Thuzad," Darion said. "He took the now-corrupted Ashbringer with him to the floating necropolis of Naxxramas. I was a part of the Argent Dawn at the time it appeared over theEastern Plaguelands, and I put together an assault force to rescue some prisoners. It was there that I encountered father, and was able to slay him. Doing so must've angered Kel'Thuzad, for he killed my entire crew and had Naxxramas leave the Plaguelands for good. I was the only survivor, with this as my only prize."
He wave the corrupted Ashbringer in front of Renault.
"By the time I stumbled back to Light's Hope Chapel a few days later," he continued, "it was under attack by the Scourge—led by Kel'Thuzad himself, if you can believe it! And even though I had killed him, I continued to hear father's whispers through the blade. In the heat of battle, I came to a realization. That in order to save father's soul, I had to plunge the Ashbringer through my own heart to replace his corrupted soul with mine. The result destroyed all the Scourge attacking except Kel'Thuzad, who was patiently waiting for me to rise into undeath. Thus, I became forever damned as a servant of the Lich King, as you can see."
Renault gripped his mace a little tighter.
"Yet even though I saved father's soul by damning my own, he continued whispering to me through the blade. His voices always kept telling me to come here to the monastery, but the Lich King's voice in my head was stronger, so I never did. Fortunately, he's decided to raze this entire place as a testament to the Scourge, so I volunteered to lead the charge." He smiled, showing his rotted teeth. "Killing two birds with one stone."
Renault had heard enough. Letting out a fearsome battle cry, he rushed towards his younger brother with his mace raised up, ready to crush his skull. Darion was too quick, unfortunately, and knocked the mace right out of his hands with his own weapon.
"I'm afraid I cannot personally kill you," he said, "as much as I'd like to. No, in order to get father's incessant ramblings out of my head for good, I'm hoping this final act of vengeance will finally sate him."
As soon as he said that, light began to emerge from the corrupted Ashbringer. It took the form of the powerful Alexandros Mograine. He gripped his own spectral Ashbringer, uncorrupted—a golden circle with a palm inscribed on it floating where the skull was on Darion's own blade.
"Renault . . ." he said.
Needless to say, the Scarlet commander was taken aback at this turn of events. "Father . . .but . . . how?"
Alexandros looked at his now adult son and said, "Did you think that your betrayal would be forgotten—lost in the carefully planned cover-up of my death? Blood of my blood, the blade felt your cruelty long after my heart had stopped beating; and in death, I knew what you had done . . . But now, the chains of Kel'Thuzad hold me no more. I come to serve justice. I AM ASHBRINGER!"
Renault recoiled in fear, holding his arms feebly up for a defense. "Forgive me, father! Please . . ."
Faster than even Darion could see, Alexandros swung his spectral Ashbringer at Renault, beheading him with a single strike. "You are forgiven . . ."
The commander's body dropped to the ground in a heap as Alexandros turned to his other son, the death knight.
"Your deed is done," Darion said. "Now you can finally leave me and this world forever! Your presence has more than worn out its welcome."
The image of Alexandros shook his head. "No, my son. My time in this world is not yet finished, for there is more to be done. When the hour of reckoning finally comes, you'll know. Until then, I guess you'll just have to tolerate my 'presence' a little longer."
With that, he disappeared back into the corrupted Ashbringer. Darion stared at the blade and roared, "No! Damn you, old man!"
His voice echoed throughout the halls of the Crusader's Chapel. Looking around, Darion regained his composure and sheathed his blade. In the end, it didn't matter. The Lich King's voice was the only one he really heard, and right now it was telling him to leave the monastery in ruins and then head back to him as soon as possible. They had the next phase of their plan to discuss.
At Acherus.
Putting his helmet back on, Darion strode through the processional, getting ready to tell his undead minions to burn the cathedral down. Such a shame, though. It really was beautifully designed.
Tilting his head backwards, Darion let out a raucous, echoing laugh.
The threat of the Scourge on the horizon . . .
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