Three updates in one day! It feels really good to get this far into a project and I want to thank all of you for your continued enjoyment and support. We're getting close to the WoW Vanilla arc of things, so stay tuned for more updates tomorrow!
Chapter 25: The Scourge: Part 1.
That summer was one of my favorites in recent memory, the sadness of Ti'tanya's behavior and visiting my old home was long gone as, for once, me and the others spent the summer in Dalaran. The city was surprisingly jovial during the summer months, especially during the Fire Festival, our bon fire raging well into the night, the dancing poles scattered throughout the city, bands playing music with drums, flutes, and various other instruments.
The world was beginning to mend itself after the invasion of the orcs and fear gripped our hearts. I remember dancing arm and arm with Circi who seemed so happy and laughed so loudly and so often, and Andris talked with Aethas and enjoyed some of Dalaran's signature cheeses and wines. It was some of the happiest days of my life. We swam many times in Lake Lordaemere and Circi constantly demanded my attention, and I spent much time with her during those times, alone.
I never could imagine the depth of her feelings for me. I was oblivious.
I still had my duties, of course, and if I had to pick a point where my life was set on the path I am still on, it would be the final meeting I would have with the council, formally, in the Chamber of Air.
"Council, I bring troubling news today." Modera began.
"You know the news is troubling when Modera says it is." Aethas said, adjusting his fire crown from the festival, his cheeks still rosy from having too much to drink.
Modera shot him a look that made him straighten and stand at attention.
"A rumor has begun in the Northlands of Lordaeron, particularly around Andorhal and a few settlements there." Modera said, casting a spell to show us an image of the northern lands of Lordaeron.
"We are meeting over rumors?" Antonidas asked with a quirked brow.
"Forgive me, Archmage. I will get to the point." Modera said. "There is a strange plague that seems to be gripping the people of the north."
"What sort of plague? Is it magical in nature?" I asked.
"We're unsure. It is causing unrest and terrible sickness in people there. Terenas has declared these lands unsafe for travel." Modera said, showing us an image of Northern, Eastern, and Western Lordaeron.
"I've arranged travel for Andris and Circi, Matthew, fear not." Modera continued. "Terenas has tasked us with scrying the origins of this plague. He has sent…"
Forgive me. That man…he was supposed to be our savior, but instead, he caused nothing but death and destruction in his wake.
"His son, Arthas Menethil, to investigate the plague," Modera said.
"Alone?" Kael'thas asked.
"No. He has also sent Uther the Lightbringer as well. They work to contain the unrest and find the source of this plague. They're also working to root out some orcs in and around Strahnbrad."
"Has he quarantined Lordaeron?" I asked.
"No, sadly," Modera said with a frown. "He claims that Lordaeron has suffered enough and he will not put his subjects under martial law in their own lands."
"The prophet," I muttered.
"Do you think he has something to do with this?" Antonidas asked.
"Possibly, but I have no proof of the matter."
The meeting concluded without any real planning on the matter. We were confident Uther and Arthas would be able to quell the orcish threat in the north.
Oh, how wrong we were.
Some weeks passed, and I was able to say goodbye to Andris and Circi.
I am sorry. So much I wish I could have said then. It was a simple goodbye, returning to their responsibilities on Silvermoon. I was so blind. Life was so normal during this time. It went on in Dalaran, but I knew we should have sent someone else. It was when we were in the courtyard, the gardens, specifically, watching Antonidas as he wrote some letters.
A raven descended from the sky and circled overhead a few times, then landed gracefully before the Archmage.
"Is this a friend of yours, Archmage?" Aethas asked, chewing on some jerky. "I had no idea you were so good with birds."
"That's no bird." Antonidas said.
And in truth, it wasn't. The bird cocked its head to the side, then took a step forward and began to shape shift into a man wearing a great, black cloak with feathers on the shoulders. The hood obscured his face.
"Greetings, masters of the Kirin Tor," said the hooded man.
"Who are you, and what do you want?" Antonidas asked.
"You must…"
Antonidas interrupted him. "You come to deliver the same warning to me that you gave to Terenas. Spare me."
"You must be wiser than the king!"
"I've told you. I'm not interested in this nonsense."
"Then I have wasted my time here."
It was a rather short exchange, but it would be so pivotal.
"You can show yourself now, Jaina."
The apprentice of the Archmage would dispel the invisibility spell.
"I am sorry, for…"
This is my story, and I've my own feelings on Jaina now, after everything that has happened. Suffice to say, Antonidas would send Jaina to investigate the rumors of the plague, specifically the rumors that the plague was magical in nature. We were left to tend to things here, in the Violet Citadel. We received regular reports from Jaina, but one report was the most disturbing.
"A cult, what sort of cult?" Aethas asked with a raised eyebrow.
"They call themselves The Cult of the Damned." Antonidas said. "They are spreading the plague through the grain from Andorhal."
"Andorhal, the Andorhal?" I commented, but no one seemed to be as concerned as I was. "Andorhal is the central distribution site for grain for the entire northlands."
The realization dawned on my fellows as their eyes went wide with shock. "They'd have the grain through the entire north in days."
"That is troubling," Antonidas said, "But it gets worse."
Aethas put his face in his hands. "Kel'thuzad is leading the cult."
We learned early on that Kel'thuzad led the Cult of the Damned. He had refined his necromantic arts, and Jaina told us that the necromancer was able to summon real, controllable undead creatures to do battle with Jaina and Arthas' forces. You all know how it played out. They investigated Andorhal and found that the grain had long since been shipped out. I wish I could have been there for the death of Kel'thuzad myself, but I am thankful he was put down at the time before things became worse. Not that he would stay dead for long, but still.
So much I didn't see, but so much I wish I had. Maybe things would have turned out differently. The Scourge marched on Hearthglen and that tore at my heart. I practically begged to go and assist Arthas' forces, but Antonidas would not let me leave. I have Uther to thank for the survival of the town.
"I can sense your agitation." Aethas said one night when I avoided dinner, and instead went to one of the towers.
"Our lands are threatened and our people turned into mindless undead." I turned from the window and looked at Aethas. "Are you not restless?"
"I am." Aethas said, sitting on a nearby stool. "But I also recognize that our place is here."
"Why?" I asked.
"Because Gilneas has cut itself off from the world, Stromgarde has fallen into a deep decline, Kul Tiras is across the sea, and Quel'thalas is a long way from Lordaeron." He said, and I looked at him confused. "Matthew, Dalaran must stand as a bastion of hope in these times, as it always has. People may come here, hoping for guidance and a place to stay. Lordaeron is troubled. Dalaran is not. Antonidas needs us."
I could only sigh, since I knew Aethas was right. But still. It didn't feel any better.
Arthas and Jaina did their best to stop The Scourge as it had come to be known and to save as many lives as possible. Hearthglen remained thanks to the Knights of the Silver Hand and Uther the Lightbringer. For a time, it seemed all would be well in the north and we drew ever closer to finding the source of the plague, and stopping it once and for all.
I remember…the smell, I think, the most. We all heard it, but we believed it to be lies and half truths, since Jaina was simply too rattled to talk, we had to hear it from other, less reliable sources.
"He slaughtered them, down to the child!"
"Madness overtook him, Archmage! Uther tried to stop him, but…"
"What will we do without the Silver Hand?"
"I had family there! You must do something and stop him!"
"He's gone mad, our own prince!"
Stratholme was a jewel in Lordaeron. It sat, nestled between Lordaeron and Quel'thalas, the largest human city in Lordaeron. It was once situated on the shores of Lake Darrowmere, and supplied the alliance with oil during the Second War. The horde marched on it and razed Stratholme to the ground. Luckily, in the years after the Second War, it was rebuilt, and housed several thousands of people. It was a glorious testament to human tenacity and bravery. It was the home to so many great stories; the formation of the Silver Hand, and in recent times, where Fordring was tried to treason for saving an orc. So many great moments in human history took place in Stratholme, old and new.
And now, we watched as the city burned under a cloudy, rainy sky. It seemed, despite the rain, the city was determined to burn.
"He culled the city." Uther said quietly, hollowly. "The citizens were infected with the grain. He thought…he thought the only way to save them was to murder them."
"How many have died?" Antonidas asked.
"Thousands," Uther said, "And we're still picking through the bodies."
We worked through the night and day for some time to bury all of the dead. Uther returned to the capital to tell Terenas of what happened. At that time, Jaina was not seen from or heard from for some time. We feared the worst, but Antonidas was confident in the woman's abilities.
After that, for a time, we heard little of the plague. It seemed that Arthas took ships and forces to the north, to the frozen land known as Northrend. Stratholme and Andorhal were considered lost, seeing as they were badly damaged, but many refugees did in fact make their way to Dalaran. We, thankfully, had plenty of space to house them all. We protected them, clothed them, and made sure they were fed. We thought for certain Arthas had died in those wastelands to the north. We did not hear about what happened from what few, still living survivors there were until many years later. We thought all was well.
We thought we were safe.
The storyteller goes quiet for a few moments. He leans back in his seat and simply stares off into space.
No one in a thousand lifetimes could predict what would happen next.
"That's the last of it." Andris said, throwing another crate of the contaminated grain onto the great fire.
"Thank you, Lord Dawnshatter," said Antonidas.
"Don't thank me, Archmage. And don't call me Lord." Andris said, smiling bitterly. "The prince disbanded us, remember?"
Antonidas shook his head. "He did no such thing. When Terenas hears of it, your rank will be reinstated. All the same, you are a knight of Quel'thalas first, Silver Hand second."
"You are too kind, Archmage. Thank you." Andris said with a bow.
We walked back together where our camp was, where Circi was healing the wounded. We fought through Scourge encampments to get to the heart of Lordaeron to assist, finally, with the damage control in the mortal rural parts of the land. We successfully beat back a good number of Scourge forces, and rescued good people from being displaced in Scourge territory.
"Is the plague reaching Quel'thalas?" Antonidas asked, but Andris shook his head.
"It is not. We do not take grain shipments from Andorhal, as we process and grow much of our own crops." Andris said, drinking from a water flask.
"Good." Antonidas said. "We don't need to worry about going further north to spread ourselves too thin."
Day and night we worked, and when we were confident our work was done, we returned to Dalaran with our new refugees and our heads held high.
"You best stay safe." Andris said.
"You as well, my friend," I said, hugging the taller man tightly through his armor.
"Circi," I said, this time kissing her on the cheek as well.
"When this is all over, we'll be back and everything will be normal. You'll see." Circi said, nuzzling my jaw for a moment which I found surprising.
Some months passed and, for a while, I thought Circi was right.
"Uther," Modera said in shock. "It isn't true. It cannot be true."
Uther said nothing. He was the first non-spell weaver to ever enter the Chamber of Air, and it wasn't under glad tidings. We simply stared at him, in absolute shock.
"It is true." Uther said, brushing his auburn hair out of his eyes. "Prince Arthas returned, wielding a wicked looking blade."
I took a deep breath and felt the fear grip my heart.
"That same blade he used to murder his father, King Terenas Menethil. He has given Lordaeron to the Scourge."
That was the beginning of the end of it all. The Scourge marched on Lordaeron and crushed the kingdom swiftly. Without their king or their prince, without any leadership, the nation of Lordaeron was no more. The city was put under the shadow of the Scourge, and it went quietly into the night. Arthas proclaimed himself King of Lordaeron, and began to systematically slaughter everything that lived in Lordaeronean lands.
It all seemed to happen so fast, and I apologize, much of the information of what happened is lost to me. Only irregular reports came in from scouts, telling tales of Arthas and the Scourge. It told tales of the people fleeing, only to be cut down by their friends turned undead. Dalaran was cut off from all allies as the Scourge began to close in on the remaining living people of the North.
"What are you doing?" Modera asked.
"Aethas and Kael'thas have left us. They return to their home in this dark hour. The Council of Six is now the Council of Four." The Archmage chuckled as he sent another letter on an arcane wisp. "Should we fall, I want to ensure that Nethergarde, Stormwind, all of the lands in the south know of the danger they face."
I looked at Modera and Ansirem who could only watch as the letters were mailed to the Bronzebeards, the Wrynns, and whoever else would listen.
"We won't let Dalaran fall." I said defiantly.
I looked to the window as the morning sun began to peek over the mountains.
"We will defend our home to our last." I said, looking at my remaining fellow council members.