Central Bridge

Wintergrasp

"Com'on you dogs! Push'em back!"

Furious blows landed against the wall of shields. The Horde sent a squad of troops to secure this pathway but were met with a stubborn resistance of Templar soldiers. Lena's manic orders always motivated her troops in the right direction. Mostly to spare them from her wrath but these brave men and women were determined to keep their foothold of this path. It was a simple mission but one that couldn't be taken lightly.

All nine of her finest stood firmly side by side with their shields firmly planted into the ground. The path to the bridge was completely cut off. Horde soldiers tried as they might. Their monumental strength and savagery were no match for the Captain's determination and willpower. With every slap of heavy metal against the barrier their stamina depleted but their resolve remained firm. Nothing was getting past these men. Not a single soul.

"Captain!"

"Kind of busy here," she shouted underneath the massive blast of another strike against her shield. "What is it private?!"

"The signal!"

Lena's head darted upwards. Staring back down on her was the Templar cross is bright red lights. The last time she crossed paths with that image, the battle became a lot more interesting. She turned her gaze towards the southern part of the road. A golden bullet rapidly approached their position. Gigantic flames shot from the back of the speeding vehicle. If she had blinked only once, the Captain would have missed it entirely.

"Change formation now!"

The soldiers broke their line and collapsed into a two rows of five men each. Lena turned around as did the rest of the second line and slammed their shields down. They angled the long steel plates carefully. Each tip pointed just above the roof of the giant fortress in the distance. Their shoulders pressed together and steeled their stance as the roaring bike loomed just seconds ahead.

"Brace yourselves!"

A speeding train collided against their barrier. Lena pushed with every fiber of strength in her bones but even she was pushed back several inches. The shields skid across the ground leaving their hideous mark permanently marring this old path. They were driven into the backs and legs of the forward defensive team but everyone held their ground exactly as planned.

The sudden forceful burst left as quickly as it came. Its sound continued to echo just beyond their position.

"Back to formation!"

Though only seconds had passed, it was vital to return to their previous post. The Horde were unrelenting in their attacks and would have loved to capitalize on such a golden opportunity. All ten of them aligned themselves back to their previous places in a matter of seconds. Lena couldn't help but smile just a little bit knowing how well they were able to pull that move off. She looked just beyond the tip of her shield when suddenly, her jaw dropped.

Today was the day Captain Sherwood had seen it all. There may have been some moments inf the future that could rival this one. However, Lena would never forget the day she saw a motorcycle taking flight.

Wintergrasp Keep

Wintergrasp

The sun's rays cascaded throughout the inner walls. Lorelei could clearly see all of the inner workings and movements from her position now. She scanned all four sections of the fortress. The soldiers within continued their chaotic movements. It was surprising to see them continue to look so flustered after the attacks on their walls have ceased.

Emerald gave an exasperated sigh which briefly stole the young elf's attention. They had stationed themselves here all morning and traveled throughout most of the night. He was probably getting hungry and as much as she wanted to take care of her beloved tiger, Lorelei couldn't take her eyes off the fortress.

"It'll be okay boy," she calmed. "I just need to –"

Her breath halted as she caught a glimpse of a blonde-haired soldier wearing familiar black armor. He approached the vault doors just underneath where the young elf watched.

Jean!

Lorelei was eternally relieved to find her brother was still alive. After that giant catastrophe that occurred outside of their gates, rampant stories ran wild within her imagination. She thanked anyone and everyone that would listen for keeping him alive. Confirming his safety was just one piece of the puzzle. The second one was still in question and now her heart thundered rapidly within her chest hoping to find a clear and hopeful answer as well.

A loud pop echoed in the sky. The young elf shifted her gaze and locked it upon a bright red cross in the distance. It forced the blood in her veins to grind to a complete halt. Her eyes widened and the air in her lungs completely deflated. She'd never forget that symbol. It belonged to him after all.

Seconds after the unique firework went off, a unique vehicle took to the sky. It was embroidered with thin plates silver and gold armor. Three wheels continuously spun even though they currently had no traction on solid ground. It took shape quickly as it approached. There she locked eyes on the familiar silver goggles worn by the man who had stolen more than her attention on this day. The young elf's entire body went numb with sheer delight after verifying he too was alright. However, this feeling quickly turned to unbridled fear as its trajectory finally came into light.

The motorcycle cleared the first wall with ease and drew closer to the inner wall. Jean was already there and perhaps even waiting for him. She didn't want the two of them to meet like this. Days before they left as friends and by a horrific twist of fate, their blades would soon clash.

Lorelei struggled with her next plan of action. If she went down their now, it could be a major distraction for either of them. Rayne was at the inherent disadvantage diving directly into Horde controlled territory. Her presence could cost him more than just defeat if she wasn't careful. The only thing she could think to do was sit, watch, and pray that both of them had the wisdom to walk away from this encounter without needing to spill a drop of blood.

The young elf's naivety about war was all too abundant.

Inner Wall

Wintergrasp Fortress

"Take the bombs and plant them on the back wall of each workshop!"

The paladin's commands were difficult to convey against the soaring winds brushing up against them. His tone, however, was as clear as the day's sky.

"Get clear as soon as you can! These things pack a big punch."

"Roger!" They said simultaneously.

Weasel took one pouch and launched himself towards the east fortress workshop. The warrior followed in suit and jumped towards the west side of the keep. They each landed on the top of the wall as the motorcycle quickly began its descent. Rayne tugged the string near the collar of his armor. His cloak launched backwards and quickly expanded into a large parachute. This was just a simple tinker Findle had whipped up when they first got together but it was still one of the paladin's favorites.

The bike crashed to the ground. Had it not been for the reduced speed, it may require some field maintenance to get it running again. The engine still purred with a delectable power. Rayne pulled the second string and detached the parachute from his body. He stepped off the chopper and slowly approached the center. The golden cloak descended slowly and completely covered his prized vehicle.

Standing before the paladin was the final conquest of this mission. The vault doors were massive in size and held countless treasure and trinkets within its sealed gates. However, Rayne couldn't see passed the lone blood elf clad in black and red armor. Jean Starstrider casually stood and the base of the stairs surrounded by a squad of Horde soldiers and officers. This may have very well been a suicide mission but if anything, the paladin needed to keep them distracted while Weasel and Marcus took out their workshops.

"Raymond Templar," the blood elf called. "I see you wish to end this conflict immediately by challenging me personally."

Finding Jean was an unintended coincidence. The paladin hadn't been searching for him at all. He actually half expected him to be leading the charge with his other soldiers. Not one of his calculations had factored in meeting Jean on the battlefield. It wasn't because it was an unlikely scenario. Rayne was still uncertain about what to say or do should he find himself in the blood elf's presence once again.

Thankfully the goggles kept his emotions hidden from view. His lip tried to quiver not out of fear but due to the growing rage building within. Jean had unleashed a vile tactic that was unbecoming of a brother of the light. He had to keep this anger in check. Otherwise, they both would be blinded in battle and there is no telling what kind of damage they could do when they couldn't see each other.

"So, have you come to take this from me as well?"

Rayne's brow furrowed. He wasn't exactly sure what Jean was talking about. The blood elf approached with one hand on the hilt of his scabbard. Something told the paladin that if he wasn't sure why they called Starstrider The Lightning Blade, he was about to find out.

There were no words Rayne wanted to exchange with the blood elf. He was still quelling the ferocity brimming within his soul. Jean had unleashed a plague of undeath on soldiers much like the horrific incident at the Wrathgate just a few weeks prior. It didn't matter if this was a game or war. Paladins had to be a guiding light to the rest of the world. Jean's actions were more reminiscent of another paladin; the first of them to fall and the reason why they're all on this damned ice-ridden continent.

The paladin drew his blade. This was no time for a conversation, friendly or otherwise. Jean had the look of a pure killer. He saw only one end to this conflict. Rayne was going to have his work cut out for him. Crossing blades with another paladin went against everything he was ever taught. However, there was only one way to get through to someone who had fallen off the path. Not even a fellow brother could be spared from the light's justice.

A whole new chapter awaited them. Rayne promised to show him a world free from this kind of needless bloodshed. It was a pity they had to get there in such a barbaric manner.

Western Workshop

Wintergrasp Fortress

Marcus made it to the workshop with relative ease. Sure he had to take out a few languid sentries patrolling the inner wall but it made the endeavor all the more entertaining. He took the explosive out of the burlap bag and gave it a quick once over. The metal box was filled with all sorts of wires, gears, and a vile of glowing red liquid. Whatever was inside that thing, the warrior was hoping to steer completely clear of it when it was time to blow.

Dozens of catapults were outside of the workshop with another five sitting in the hangar ready to go. Rayne was right. The Horde were playing dirty. If they swept the battlefield with this fleet towing plague barrels, the battle was as good as lost.

The explosive snapped into place against the eastern wall. Rayne had assured him that it didn't matter where on the building he set it and that was all the instruction he needed. With the bomb in place, Marcus took the detonator from the bag and prepared to leave this Horde parade as quickly as he came.

A vile grip seized the warrior's throat. Its cold touch cut through his hardened skin and chilled him to the bone. The purple vice hurled Marcus airborne and back towards the center of this vastly open keep interior. His back slammed against the unforgiving stone ground. Air clung to his lungs before being violently ejected without warning. The warrior coughed through the pain as his eyes opened and caught a familiar looking mace hoping to crush his skull into a mound of soupy bone and flesh.

Stone exploded in a dusty mist of debris. Marcus rolled away from the initial attack and quickly found a way to his feet. He retrieved the trusty mace still slung across his back and faced the challenger that would dare openly attack him but not possess the skill nor intelligence to immediately finish what they started.

"You have a funny way of saying hello," jested the warrior. "I thought you tauren were supposed to be the noblest amongst the Horde. Seeing you in that gloomy get up with those glowing blue eyes tells me that you cows aren't so special after all. I'd cut my own head off before I let the Lich King milk me for all I'm worth."

A puff of cold air exited the tauren's dark lips.

"That's a lot of talk for a dog of the Alliance," he spat.

The echoing voice may have provoked fear from lesser opponents. To Marcus, it just seemed like there were two idiots talking simultaneously instead of one.

"Marcus Bloodblade at your service," the warrior mockingly bowed.

Marcus loved to get in his opponent's heads. He knew there was more to a fight than strength and skill alone. If he could get this beefy cow off his game for even just a second it would work to his great advantage and all it would cost him is a few gentle breaths.

"And what do your new masters call you? Or did they calfstrate your sense of decency along with everything else?"

The tauren growled from within his black helm.

"My name is not worthy to give to such a barbaric ingrate."

"Suit yourself," Marcus shrugged. "I just wanted to give your buddy's a name because after I'm done with you, they're going to have a hard time identifying the body. If you want to spare yourself the embarrassment, you could always just step aside and let me finish my mission. Either way works for me."

The death knight tightened his grip on the mace and snarled viciously.

"You will choke on those words mongrel."

The warrior grinned widely.

"I knew you'd say that."

Eastern Workshop

Wintergrasp Fortress

Sneaking into enemy territory was easier than Weasel thought. Given the gnome's size, shape, and choice of clothing, they would have an easier time finding a fart in the wind than this experience rogue. Weasel was already in the back of the workshop inconspicuous as always and setting the explosive as instructed. The magnet clung to the wall with relative ease. All he had to do now was remove himself as far away as he possibly could and find himself a good seat on the surrounding hills for when the fireworks go off.

The gnome took one long and delicious breath for another job well done. He casually made his way towards the eastern side of the workshop and maneuvered along the adjacent wall. The Horde soldiers were mostly concerned with the dealings outside the structure than within which made for the perfect getaway.

A line of wooden skulls greeted Weasel upon his exit. They had already amassed quite the counter-offensive. These machines were disgusting abominations like the foul creatures who came up with the idea. Death did not have to be long and painful. If you needed someone to die, there was no point in prolonging their pain. Everything leads to the inevitable end. Might as well make the trip as short as possible.

"I. See. You."

The hissing voice snapped the gnome's attention. A volley of black energy blitzed towards his small frame. Weasel dashed alongside of the wall. He flipped and tumbled over the leftover crates of ammunition as dozens of bolts crashed into boxes sending bits of wooden debris splintering into the air. The gnome continued to juke his way through the oncoming onslaught of fel magic before sliding behind a stack of weapon racks and locking eyes on his new opponent.

"Well, well, well," the forsaken hissed. "What do we have here? The Commander said we should be expecting company. I didn't expect to see an appetizer show up before the main course."

His revolting laughter cut right down to the gnome's tiny bones. He hated the undead's voice almost as much as that disgusting grin on his face. Whether that last comment was a joke about his size or fighting prowess didn't bother Weasel. The violet-robed monster would pay for it either way.

"I am Ulrick Cursesong," the warlock stated. "I always like for my future victims to be absolutely certain who it was that brought them their demise."

"Cursesong?" Weasel's eyebrow slowly rose. It quickly dropped as his brow crumpled in anger. "The Butcher of Telredor?"

"I'm happy to see my reputation has made it all the way out to Gnomeregan. Though I'm surprised to find someone of your stature standing before me now. Tell me, did you have any friends in that dreadfully boring town? Is that why you've come before me today? To get your revenge?"

That tragic even lived in infamy amongst the Alliance Expedition. Telredor was said to be an impregnable fortress. Though its citizens were nearly starved for food, there was no way anyone could have just waltzed in there and slaughtered hundreds. Whether he bribed one of the citizens with some food or blackmailed someone else to let him in may forever remain locked in mystery.

"Not exactly," shrugged the gnome.

He walked past the thin barrier of pikes, axes, and polearms to greet the talkative forsaken on a more personal level.

"The thing about being an assassin is, you need to have the proper motivation. If we just ran around and killed anyone that pissed us off, we would be no better than the beasts or monsters we fight every day. What separates us from them is purpose."

Weasel dusted off the remaining splinters and wooden debris bits on his black leather armor has he slowly made his approach.

"You see, when I heard about what you did I may have been a little fired up, not gonna lie. However, I knew at the end of the day, there was absolutely nothing I could do about it."

"Oh yea?" Ulrick smirked. "And why is that?"

"Because I'm an assassin; a good one at that. I don't just kill anyone willy-nilly. It's not a sport or a game to me. Killing is my job, my life, and I'm very good at what I do. In order to utilize my skills, you're going to need to pay me a lot of money."

"So that's why you didn't come after me?" Teased the forsaken almost bursting into laughter. "Because the Alliance couldn't afford your hefty fee as an elite killer?"

"No," the gnome calmly stated. "The reason why I never came after you because once I heard about what you did, I wouldn't take any one's gold to kill you."

Weasel slowly raised his hand and pointed his finger towards the foresaken with an ominous glare.

"I promised to do you for free. The second I crossed that line I would no longer be an assassin. I would become you."

"Is that so?" Cursesong laughed. "Maybe that's not such a bad thing. Tell me, are you still willing to follow your code now that I'm standing before you?"

"Absolutely," smiled Weasel. "I'm out here on a job actually. My boss needs me to take out that building behind you. He's an honest guy, not really you're type I suppose, but needs people like me to cross lines that he won't."

Weasel took a breath while casually looking away unconcerned with the looming threat before him.

"I'm merely doing him a favor. The fact that I have to get through you in order to do so is an added bonus."

"You humor me greatly gnome," the forsaken replied. "I will enjoy watching you writhe in agony. Who knows? After this, I may make you one of my pets as well."

Ulrick snapped his rotting fingers. A runic circle appeared on the ground glowing with powerful violet energy. From within the void, a foul red-scaled demon took shape. It had four legs with claws for feet and two protruding bones sharpened like spears upon its back. Dozens of fangs sat upon its wide maw. The creature snarled viciously in the direction of the gnome.

"Gaazhom," the warlock wickedly grinned. "Dinner's ready."

Inner Walld

Wintergrasp Fortress

Uncontrollable fury swelled before the blood elf's eyes. Standing before him was the man who had turned from savior to rival in such a trivial period of time. Templar was poised to take everything away from him. The wretched human had already swooned his beloved little sister. She was the only thing that Jean held dear in the entirety of this cruel and unfair world. Now he sought to steal away the one thing that defined him. The blood elf may be unable to control his sister's emotions but there was no way in hell he would allow that man to best him in combat.

"Let me handle this one for you Commander."

Jean didn't even bother to acknowledge the orc's words let alone his presence. His eyes were locked on the gold and silver armored frame of the only other paladin within these walls.

"Stand down Dardosh," the Commander ordered. "You have embarrassed me enough already. Take your place along the inner wall and ensure our defenses hold firm. I will deal with this fiend myself."

The orc let out a defeated grunt before backing off as told. Jean knew that Dardosh was merely trying to save face at this point. He had already been humiliated twice before his own men. The only way to earn their respect back is by accomplishing a grand feat of strength. His enthusiasm was duly noted but it would still not forgive his previous actions that put this entire fortress in jeopardy. The former Vice-Commander would get what was coming to him in due time. He would have to wait until Templar got his.

Jean proceeded slowly towards the center of the sullen fortress interior to meet his new adversary. The sounds of battle were still erupting from all sides. Faint cries of soldiers echoed in the distance. This was war after all. Everyone had to fight for what they truly wanted. No one knew that greater than the Commander. Someone that was born with a silver spoon in their mouth would never know the hardships of those that had to scrape for everything they could in order to survive until tomorrow.

Steel sliced in a quick shriek as Jean removed his blade from the scabbard. It was almost harmonious in nature. This was the last remaining remnant of the Starstrider legacy. His parents had bequeathed this sword to him upon departing to aid the humans in their war against the orcish horde. It featured a bright yellow gem in the center of the hilt surrounded by intricately carved red steel that carried the gleaming mithril blade. This was meant to depict an image of the sun. Jean's father and his grandparents before him had always said the sun was nothing more than a giant star which is how they derived their name in ancient times long since passed.

The two warriors met in the center. They were no more than a scant few feet apart from one another. Jean's curiosity slowly increased. He had anticipated the paladin would attempt to voice his concern or perhaps even illicit a conversation to seek a mutual resolution without bloodshed. The fact that the human decided to forgo any negotiations was welcomed as the blood elf would rather let his blade do the talking but it did strike him as odd. The man standing before him did not appear to be the same bumbling hero with a grandiose yet hopeless optimistic view of the world. Templar was grounded, stoic, and much more serious this time around.

However, a minor change in attitude would not save him from his inevitable fate. The human had apparently ditched the mace for a uniquely shaped sword of his own. It would make things a little more sporting this way since there wasn't a whole lot a hammer could do to stop a wave of sharpened steel slashing through the air. If Templar wanted a fight, he sure as hell found the most willing opponent.

Jean exploded from the previously unguarded stance. He dragged his blade towards the human. The only thing left plaguing his mind was trying to cope with his sister's inevitable sadness after the battle had ended.