Flight from the Jaws of Annihilation
A gentle wind blew through the sick forest as gently as it had done in happier times in the years past. However, it smelled like an approaching death as the Plague itself seemed to have become one with the nature of this lost land. However, none of the crusaders paid it any heed as most of them were forced to concentrate all their efforts to keeping the gate to Stratholme under their control. The stream of undead never seemed to stop and the defenders had no time to even dream of burning the fallen ghouls. The necromancers inside the city could work without any danger and any of the paladins could see that this battle was a hopeless one.
That reality wasn't lost on Crusader Lord Valdemar either but he attempted to hide those dark thoughts under his current task. He looked at the rows after rows of wounded knights, some of whom were clearly taking their last breaths on this defiled land. Valdemar frowned deeply as he eyed at the wounded and the still-fighting defenders, noticing immediately that far over a half of the Crusade's knights had fallen within the cursed city, among them many of their greatest champions.
Of the mighty army that had only a few hours earlier marched on Stratholme, only about five hundred remained and even many of those would succumb to their horrifying injuries soon enough. The commander's mutilated mind prevented him from remembering most of his own knights which spared him from most of the emotional anguish but even then, he knew fully what this meant. The officer cringed deeply as he forced his steed to turn around and head to report his findings to the Grand Crusader himself. However, he didn't get far before he heard someone call for him.
"My lord Valdemar! Might I have a moment of your time!" One knight appeared from the crowd with a deeply concerned look. Valdemar frowned at his appearance but his eyes then widened as he saw who the speaker was. He had forgotten all his recent meetings with Osran but he still remembered the knight from the distant times of the Second War. Yet, something in his mind prevented him from being surprised by this seemingly surprising reunion. Instead, he decided that he had simply forgotten something important and spoke briefly to the other paladin.
"Speak briefly, Lowriver! None of us have any time to spare here!" Valdemar said as he looked at the fighting before him, full well knowing that the battle of Stratholme wasn't nearly at an end yet. He had to get his task done quickly but on the other hand, Osran's position in the Crimson Legion forced him to listen to his old friend's concerns.
Osran hated being forced to speak to the man he had hurt so much but there was one thing that bothered him. He had tried to search for Veria everywhere after the battle but to no avail. He knew that the chance she had fallen was a high one but he didn't want to let his thoughts wander that far just yet. Maybe… just maybe she could still be alive.
"Crusader Lord, have you seen crusader Longlea anywhere after the battle? I can see that your job was to check the survivors so you if anyone must know about her whereabouts!" Osran said in a steady voice, taking deep breaths to calm himself down. Valdemar frowned at the bearded paladin and snapped back at him rather quickly, willing to move on.
"I haven't seen her anywhere, Osran. Over half of us have fallen and we have to do everything in our power for those who we know are still alive. Lady Longlea might have searched refuge within the Bastion but…"
"Crusader Longlea is dead. I saw her fight Gavinrad valiantly and she gave her life to take that cursed death knight out, like any crusader should. She has my respect but as the Crusader Lord said, we have to leave mourning for the dead later, Lowriver!" Osran turned to look and saw the younger Abbendis had heard the duo's conversation and decided to share what she knew. Osran could only stare at her after her words after which his gaze fell to the ground slowly. To think his comrade had fought against a death knight alone and beaten him… few paladins could ever pride themselves with such a feat. He had never heard of Gavinrad's return but he could only voice his gratitude to the Light the righteous paladin's soul was at an ease. He could feel his hands shuddering with the shock but even then, Osran knew his charge after all his years of service. After a few seconds, he returned his eyes to the general and spoke to her in his normal voice.
"I understand, general Abbendis. Thank you for telling me this." He said, feeling sick beyond words. The Crusade had not only lost one of its greatest heroes and legends but Veria, too, had gone to join Tareth in humanity's hall of precious memories. Osran felt himself squeeze the hilt of his sword hard enough for his knuckles to hurt but his face remained unchanged. However, Valdemar interrupted the knight's moment of remembrance and spoke to him quickly.
"But now, Osran, join the others in preparing to leave this cursed place! We must go or we'll be overrun. The Grand Crusader orders this." Valdemar cried as Abbendis rode away to tend to her own duties. Osran frowned slightly but prepared to answer Valdemar quickly, knowing he didn't have the luxury of mourning Veria just yet.
However, Valdemar's mention of the Grand Crusader raised some thoughts to Osran's mind, something he had wanted to ask the order's highest-ranking leader for a long time. This might not be the best time but in the middle of a war like this, when would he have this opportunity again? As a member of the Crimson Legion, he had the right to demand an audience with any of the Crusade's leaders and this was the right time for him to use that right Isillien had given to him on that rainy day which Osran felt had happened years in the past. But to Valdemar, he merely nodded and spoke firmly.
"Of course, Crusader Lord. May the Light safeguard your steps." Osran said as Valdemar returned the gesture and ordered his steed to a gallop. Osran took a deep sigh before turning around and headed towards the direction he had heard the Grand Crusader to be in. Soon enough, certain things would be made clear once and for all.
A careful smile rose to Abbendis' face as he followed the filling of the many wagons the Crusade had brought along for situations like these. There was just enough space for the wounded and most of the other survivors still had their steeds reserved for them. However, the crusaders weren't ready to depart just yet and he suddenly turned around to address Dathrohan who took his first breather in hours. He had spared no effort in getting the evacuation started or leading his knights in the battle against the Scourge.
"Two-thirds of the wounded have been loaded into the carriages, Grand Crusader. With any luck, we'll be ready to go in less than an hour. However, we have to leave some of our weapons and catapults here. There simply is no room for them." Abbendis said as Dathrohan followed the battle at the bridge to Stratholme. Inch by inch, his forces were being pushed back but with Light's guidance, they would be able to hold the enemy at bay just long enough for their comrades to make way for their escape. Still, Dathrohan put his hand on his forehead and shook his head.
"We should have been able to get out of this mess already. But the worst thing is that we have to let the Scourge overwhelm many of our gains. If we're lucky, we may be hold them off at our first watchtower and the hills around it but if we cannot, only the Light knows where we can put a stop to the Scourge's advance. Our losses are simply too great." Dathrohan said in a tone which made Abbendis frown deeply. He had never seen Dathrohan act like this and right now, he knew there was no place for such behavior in the highest echelon of the Crusade. In times like these, the order couldn't afford to get consumed by fear or despair. He quickly moved to Dathrohan's side and spoke to him in a firm voice which almost sounded angry.
"With the blessing of all that is still holy in this world, we will withstand those monsters' advance as we have always done, Dathrohan! Our troops are giving their all to enable our flight and whether we are driven simply out of this wood or besieged in our cities, we will never be defeated!"
Of course we won't, you fool! You would realize it yourself if you were ready to open your mind to larger things than simply the next day! Dathrohan quickly returned Abbendis' look and it grew quickly firmer than before. Inwardly, the master of the Scarlet Crusade held nothing but disgust at his comrade but he managed to almost sound respecting and even friendly.
"I know, High General. But we'll have to start nearly from the beginning. I would have liked to…" He started to answer before a new voice cut his comment short.
"Grand Crusader! I beg your pardon but I have to exchange a few words with you!" Dathrohan's eyes grew wide as he turned to look who dared to waste his time on a like this. At first, he prepared to simply tell the newcomer to get away immediately but as his eyes caught the sight of the speaker, his face fell slightly. It was one of the Crimson Legionaries who, to the demon's slight amusement, were handpicked by Isillien to serve the Crusade faithfully. The demon took a brief sigh but in the end, perhaps this pathetic human would deserve to have his say after all.
"What is it, Crimson Legionary Lowriver? Can't you see that we don't have time for useless jabbering here?" Dathrohan cried, looking at Osran with a clearly displeased look on his face. Osran felt his initial decisiveness fall a bit as his eyes met those of Dathrohan's, only now remembering just how much he respected the Grand Crusader. He had met Saidan only a few times in his life but those moments had been just enough for him to grow to respect the tireless efforts to advance the Light's cause and limitless wisdom Dathrohan had become known for. He truly was a living paragon of all the righteous in this world but even then, Osran didn't falter. He forced the words out of his mouth even if the Grand Crusader's face made him extremely uncomfortable.
"Lord Dathrohan, I've learned to listen and respect your wisdom during my years as a knight and I know that all you've done have been for the greater good of our order or Lordaeron. But in the past months, I've seen things that have worried me greatly. Things… that I don't think serve the Light in the way they should." Osran started, earning an angered look from Abbendis who still stood near the duo, not approving in the least about this interruption. He stepped towards Osran and attempted to end this discussion here and now.
"Can't you see that we don't have time for complaining right now? Those thoughts may have their pl…" The High General began but Dathrohan quickly raised his hand in front of him, stopping the lower-ranked officer's sentence right there. After that, he looked at Abbendis and spoke to him in a firm voice.
"We'll finish this conversation alone, High General. You may attempt to strengthen our defenses for now." Dathrohan said, earning an extremely confused gaze from Abbendis. Did the Grand Crusader actually deem this knight's concerns more important than the battle that was raging around them? Abbendis respected his leader even more than many others but this was a decision he didn't understand in the least. Yet, he knew better than to question Dathrohan's orders and he simply saluted as he answered.
"Very well, Grand Crusader. But please, don't linger here too long. Our time for withdrawal draws near." The general said as he turned around and headed towards the bridge to Stratholme. Dathrohan narrowed his eyes slightly but he didn't waste much time answering to Osran himself.
"Indeed, your timing for such issues is a highly curious one. Our knights have worked night and day to buy us our victory but you seem to imply that our good commanders are leading us astray, is that it?" Dathrohan said while raising his right brow somewhat. He wanted to cause Osran to begin hesitating so that he'd receive the full control of the conversation. Osran, on the other hand, realized that his audience hadn't started well at all. He knew the Grand Crusader wouldn't approve of such sentiments in the least, especially from a member of his own inner circle. Osran gave his answer immediately, not willing to allow such thoughts to linger within his superior's head any longer than necessary.
"No, my lord. The Legion has done what it had to do… except in a few cases. Grand Crusader, I know the Crimson Legion is yours to command but for example, what we did to the Crusader Lord… I have to ask you, do you know what really happened to him when we had to quell his attempts to rebel against us?" Osran gulped, knowing that such questions held many implications that probably wouldn't sit well with the Grand Crusader. In essence, he was questioning his hold over the Crusade and at least indirectly, accusing Isillien of treachery. Yet, this question had bothered him without an end and he had wanted an answer to it ever since that sickening day. Dathrohan looked slightly taken aback by that question as of course, those implications weren't lost on him either. He soon stepped a few step further towards Osran and his voice took a more threatening tone as he answered.
"Such questions hardly advance your cause among our holy Crusade, Lowriver. I can't help but understand that you're saying that I'm not capable of leading our order firmly and with wisdom. The Crimson Legion was my creation and it is mine to lead and mine alone. The Grand Inquisitor has been a good friend and ally for many years and he, too, has my utmost trust and he would never turn his back to our ideals. To even suspect such a thing is a disgrace for our cause, Lowriver. I knew about Valdemar and his betrayal all the time and I gave the order to wipe away his mind of suck treasonous thoughts. As always, Isillien works as my right hand and no thing that the Crimson Legion does happens without my order, Lowriver. Is that clear?" He said, the Grand Crusader's voice rising while he spoke, his anger building as he dwelled within Osran's outrageous words. Inside, however, the demon was laughing as it was true that the real Dathrohan had known nothing of what had happened in Tyr's Hand and Isillien hadn't answered to him in months. To have a chance to humiliate the paladin like this was another opportunity for Balnazzar to shed away any doubts among his followers.
The knight, on the other hand, looked at his superior almost pleadingly, only now understanding just how misguided his doubts had been. Dathrohan had proved himself a strong-willed, capable man and it was small wonder he was this upset by some of his followers' doubts about his leadership. Osran's face turned to a frown as he again returned to that horrifying day and even now, he hated himself for what he had done back then. To see Valdemar walking around like he wasn't even truly alive, only doing his masters' bidding… it ached Osran's heart greatly. But… if it had truly been an order of the Grand Crusader himself… how could he question it? Saidan would never do something like it without a reason but even then, Osran wasn't quite done with this issue even now.
"It is, Grand Crusader but… I know Valdemar better than most and we could have most likely brought him to our side even without such things. And besides, I don't really think that making torture a common practice is going to work to our advantage. Dathrohan, I've seen many good men being terribly mutilated because of simple doubts or claims. Only a few of those cases have gotten anywhere and… and even I have had my share of those practices simply for being separated from our main force for a while." Osran said as he pulled his left glove from his hand, revealing the bloody spots where his nails used to be. He hoped Saidan would listen to him but it seemed like he was hardly making a good impression on the other knight. Dathrohan took a deep sigh and put his hand on his forehead before he answered in a loud voice.
"Crusader Lowriver, your claims of me overlooking possibilities of saving the mind of one of our allies hardly tells much about your trust towards our beloved order. You might be a friend of the Crusader Lord but you have to realize we don't have the luxury of leaving anything to chance. We might have failed today but just think what could have come to pass if we had been forced to attack Tyr's hand, first? The Scourge would have crushed us simply because of one man's pride.
About the rest of your claims, I'm sure the younger general Abbendis has already told you about the traitors in our midst and thus, I don't have to remind you while all methods, even torture, are necessary. We don't need some cultists to backstab us in our sleep or some infected poor soul spreading the Plague among us. As for you, I hope you aren't implying any of us should be above the security we have built with so many efforts." Dathrohan almost shouted his last words but he ensured that others couldn't hear his voice couldn't be heard over the battle's sounds.
Osran frowned deeply as he looked at the looming walls of Stratholme, slowly realizing that inside, he didn't feel nearly as disgusted as he had expected. In the end, Dathrohan had only confirmed that he had done the right thing all along, a thing he had wondered so many times in the past weeks. Osran returned to look at the Grand Crusader and beside his firm expression could be seen nothing except decisiveness and honor. Even after all what had happened, Saidan had stayed faithful to his own ideals all along. And now that he was in the higher-ranked knight's presence, he remembered once again that this was a man he had decided to follow when he had read the original letter of invitation into the order. This was a champion of the Light and if he had decided to do everything in his power to make the Crusade as strong as possible, he had no option but to accept his position. Osran's voice sounded relieved, even thankful as he answered.
"I understand, Dathrohan. We can win nothing if we play by the old rules that failed us during the Great War. I apologize for my doubts, Grand Crusader. I see I was a fool to question your commands from the very beginning." Osran said as he felt his superior's eyes suddenly overwhelm him completely. However, Saidan's gaze suddenly softened slightly as he answered to Osran.
"We all have our moments of hesitation, Lowriver, but know this: we are not beaten, we are merely pushed back for now. If we continue to work tirelessly, we will rebuild the Crusade and we will eventually take back what is rightfully ours! But to reach that goal, you know we cannot rest for a moment in the coming days. Do what must be done and I promise that all who stand with me until the end will earn a reward beyond their wildest dreams and an eternal place in Lordaeron's hall of heroes. Remember to believe in the Crusade's cause, always." Dathrohan said with a steady voice, looking at Osran without blinking even once. Osran tried to return a revering look but he feared immensely that he failed in that cause miserably. Yet, he answered to the Grand Crusader after a briefest of moments.
"Of course, my lord. Thank you for your time. Your answers mean a lot…" Osran started before he was suddenly interrupted by a massive blast near him. He turned his head immediately at the source, seeing that dozens of paladins and mages being obliterated by some incredibly powerful spell at the bridge to Stratholme. Osran could only watch in disbelief as he saw his comrades being literally torn apart by the whirlwind of darkness, their viscera being sent flying into the dark waters of the small lake. The defenders' ranks fell immediately after this onslaught which only shocked the paladin further. However, Dathrohan didn't allow himself to be incapacitated by a sight such as this and he didn't hesitate for a moment to give his order. This battle was lost but with any luck, there would be another one in the future if the knights managed to flee in time.
"Abandon your positions! Everyone capable of it, get to your steeds! The rest of you, run to the wagons! We are leaving now and there is not one second we can waste here!" Dathrohan cried as he headed towards his own steed which was waiting for him nearby. Immediately, a terrible stir swept over the army but every one of the crusaders knew that no matter the situation, they couldn't forget the necessity of order and discipline. Even through the near-panic and deep fear within the countless men and women, the mess didn't seem to descend into a total chaos. Slowly but surely, the knights found their steeds and the caravan carrying the wounded and the necessary supplies started to move on the Menethil road towards safety.
However, not all had the luxury of an imminent escape. The spell had been only the first step by the Scourge to break the siege at last and it was followed by a newfound push by the undead to drown the living under their numbers. As before, the crusaders defended themselves valiantly but step by step, the immortal soldiers never faltered and it was clear to all of the defenders that it was completely senseless to continue this battle until the very end. They would flee in due time but only when the rest of the army was completely safe.
All the while, a new plan rose within Dathrohan's mind. He knew the Scarlet Bastion still stood proud and defiant in the heart of Stratholme and it was the seat and pride of their entire order. Even if the demon didn't care about the old headquarters of the Knights of the Silver Hand, he knew what it meant to his followers and it would forever be a thorn on the Scourge's side. Maybe, just maybe, this new attack would allow him to find a way back into the city and save the heart of his power. As the other crusaders quickly prepared for their own departure, Dathrohan suddenly saw the High General prepare for his own flight. the Grand Crusader ordered his own steed for a gallop towards him as he'd need top relay his plans forward.
"Abbendis, lead our forces forward! I'm going back to the Bastion with a dozen other knights!" He said as the lower-ranked commander turned to look at him, seemingly stunned by these news. He frowned deeply and spoke to his commander in disbelief.
"Are you joking, Grand Crusader? Stratholme is lost and we have to…" He tried to reason but Dathrohan wasn't willing to listen his concerns until the end. Time was off the essence and he wasn't going to waste any time here.
"This isn't the time to argue, High General! Just go and relay the reason for my absence to the others! I must save the Bastion, for the sake of our order!" Dathrohan cried, more than happy that the rows of knights around the two hid them from the sight of any potential enemies. Abbendis would have wanted to argue further but he decided against it, knowing that he had no way or even right to fight with his superior. He merely took a dark expression as he spoke.
"Very well, Grand Crusader. I just beg you to remember what happened the last time when I warned against engaging on such quests. But no matter what, do what you have to." The general said, remembering his last conversation with Alexandros with utmost fear. Saidan prepared for his final answer but it was at this moment when a massive crack could be heard all over the horrifyingly malformed forest. An enormous abomination had broken the Crusade's largest barricade, allowing the undead to flood into their inner camp, telling the two leaders their time was up once and for all. The Grand Crusader saluted other officer before turning around, preparing for his own task.
"May the Light watch over us all. Have a safe journey, High General, and stop their advance whenever you can. You have my trust." Dathrohan said before he turned his steed around and waved at a few of his comrades. Abbendis frowned slightly but again, he was forced to overlook his personal misgivings. He quickly moved aside a small number of still fighting knights and cried to them and the rest of the army with all his might.
"Get on the move, everyone! Head for the safety of Light's Hope and Tyr's Hand and let nothing stop you! Go, now!" He cried as the last of the knights quickly turned around from the fight and ran towards the last of the wagons as its wheels started to slowly roll on the old road of cobblestone. Each of them held the desperate hope of joining their comrades again and hope for better days but many of the knights were torn to pieces the moment they started their run. Abbendis cursed the situation but he quickly joined the mass of riders around the wagons, preparing to defend their wounded comrades until the very end.
Osran glanced behind himself, looking in disgust as he saw the ghouls tearing a few mortally wounded crusaders who had been left behind to pieces. He cursed that the Crusade had to leave behind all their siege weapons and a part of their spare sword and arrows. Yet, that would matter little if the rest of the army survived from this debacle. The paladin ordered nervously his steed into an ever-faster gallop along with his companions. Even getting out of this horrifying forest would be a major relief for the crusaders. The Plaguewood had always been a stronghold of the Scourge and there was no telling…
"Take the flames out, now! The rest of you, take the fiends out!" Valdemar cried as Osran quickly turned to look at what was happening. Dozens of burning arrows suddenly flew from the forest into the wagons and into the crusaders, causing the former to catch fires almost immediately. Osran knew the magi could take the fires out almost instantly but he shivered as he looked into the darkness of the woods, wondering what kind of beasts were roaming there now. Yet, there was only one way to repel this attack, the same one all the knights had in mind. The mass of knights cast their own areas on consecration on both sides of the road, knowing it would take shooting arrows impossible. The spells caused distorted cries of agony from the woods, the sounds being more than familiar to the paladins.
The paladin frowned as he thought that it was only ordinary skeletons who had caused this small incident which had only caused some of the horses to panic and fall into the ground. However, this attack had had very little impact on the group as a whole, filling the escaping paladins with newfound hope. However, the following undead didn't seem to be ready to give up just yet. Suddenly, the entire forest seemed to be filled with the monsters, pouring out from nearly every possible spot from the forest.
One of the younger escaping knights had already harbored hopes of salvation but Eneath's heart skipped a beat when he suddenly saw a dark form to his side. From the blackness of the forest, one of the ghouls jumped towards him with a terrifying speed. Eneath cried as the monster started to tear his shoulder and side to pieces, his steed suddenly screaming in horror and trying to force both of its riders from its back. Eneath cursed under his breath as he turned around to face the ghoul himself. The undead beast revealed its teeth and it took all of Eneath's willpower not to vomit at the monster's scent. After a short moment, he raised his hand and hit the ghoul at its moth, sending the rotten remains of teeth flying into the darkened forest. The paladin, however, spent all his efforts to retrieving his sword but the ghoul had managed to get in a position where Eneath couldn't safely divert even the slightest of efforts away from keeping the monster at bay.
In the end, there was only one thing left for him to do, no matter how much he had avoided it. With a deep breath, he hit his head towards the ghoul, feeling as it sank into the decayed flesh, the bloody stains of the long-since passed corpse quickly flowing down his face. Yet, that maneuver caught the beast off-guard, allowing Eneath to grab another one of its arms and close the monster against his steed. With a quick move, Eneath finally grabbed his sword and finally impaled the creature and before he even noticed it, the ghoul was sent flying into the dark forest, what remaining of its ruined body falling to pieces as the rotten limbs were torn apart by the impact. This small victory came at the last possible moment as the horrified horse was just about to crash into the other steeds, possibly starting a chaos in the retreating army.
Eneath took a brief sigh as he turned to look forward, his eyes widening at the sight. Not far before him, the cursed forest seemed to finally end and give way to the winding, just as sick plains of the Eastern Plaguelands. Yet, each of the paladins knew that the worst was now behind them: from this on, any hopes of a sudden ambush from the Scourge were now over. Eneath wholeheartedly welcomed even the cold, fetid wind after the countless hours spent in the symphony of plague and fire of Stratholme.
However, the young paladin was not nearly the most relieved knight of the army. High General Abbendis could simply stare before him in thankfulness, happy beyond measure by his success of leading his troops away from Plaguewood. From this point on, he had a clear vision about what was going on and he could begin to search for a new frontline against the Scourge. The undead were still on their tail and Abbendis bet his life that the Horsemen were not going to rest when they knew they had the Crusade on the run. The general knew he'd have to try to balance his desire to save the Crusade's earlier gains and suitable terrain as well as optimally short supply lines. Now, the only thing that mattered was to stabilize the front line and to save the areas that really mattered to their cause.
Yet, that last realization suddenly made Abbendis sick beyond measure. There were very few areas out here that were of utmost value to the Crusade and to be completely honest, there was no reason to spend resources trying to defend any of the countryside or the small villages that were still standing. Corin's Crossing was strategically vital but really, there was very little there to actually defend. In the end, preserving it would be a great asset to the Crusade in the future but if it seemed even for a moment that defending it would be foolish, Abbendis knew it had to be evacuated too. But for now, securing Light's Hope and Tyr's Hand were the most important issues, ones that could ensure or finally end the Crusade's future. The general turned to look at his left and cried to Harthal who was riding on his side.
"Harthal, take our left wing to Light's Hope and save it from the coming storm! I will take the rest to Tyr's Hand!" He cried, knowing that Harthal would do his all to that cause. He lower-ranked officer answered immediately to Abbendis, understanding his point immediately.
"Yes, High General! I will defend it to my dying breath!" He then turned to face the group riding after him and he pointed with his sword to the rightmost rank he was addressing.
"You will accompany me to Light's Hope! We have to get its defenses ready before the Scourge reaches it!" He cried, seeing all the knights he was talking to salute briefly before continuing to order their steeds into an ever-faster gallop. Abbendis nodded at the Lord Paladin approvingly, happy that he had at least one commander besides himself who could lead the crusaders with decisiveness and wisdom. He frowned as he thought about Dathrohan's departure, dearly praying that the Grand Crusader knew this time what he was doing. His oversight had cost Alexandros his life and if Dathrohan had headed into his own death with this another folly… it brought Abbendis no relief to know he'd most likely be the next Grand Crusader as the second-highest ranked living member of the order. No one, not him nor anyone else, could take Saidan or Alexandros' places as the paragons of valor they were and Abbendis knew his authority or wisdom could never come even close to those two legends. He shook his head in fear as he rode forward.
The Lord Paladin's words surprised Osran somewhat as he had been one of the troops he had commanded to follow him. The paladin had already dreamt of sleeping in his beloved Tyr's Hand but in the end, he had visited Light's Hope more times than he could remember and he had grown very fond of the sense of sanctity hanging upon the ancient chapel and the small camp that had grown around it. If defending it was what was expected of him, he would do it with utmost valor. Osran breathed easier by the second as he saw the numerous watchtowers on the sides of the road roll by, knowing that each of them meant that he and his comrades were closer to salvation. The undead had been left behind a long time ago and most of the army was still intact. Suddenly, he heard Harthal cry again to his group as he forced his steed to turn left suddenly.
"Now, follow me! This is the place from where we'll head towards Light's Hope!" The Lord Paladin shouted as his steed left the Menethil Road and headed into a dead woods, beyond which could be seen the mountains surrounding Havenshire and New Avalon. Osran lamented the fact that there were no road leading to the Chapel but in the end, the terrain around it was far from difficult. All of the troops that had been placed under Harthal's command followed him immediately and it wasn't long until the main force of the Crusade heading to Tyr's Hand disappeared into the distance. Osran eyed at the forest around himself, more than thankful that at least these were real trees and not the fungal monstrosities of Plaguewood. This land might be dead but it wasn't the horrific, twisted nightmare of the Scourge, not yet anyway.
Minutes passed without major incidents and no words were exchanged between the crusaders as each of them prayed that this horrifying journey would finally come to an end. The sun was still hanging high in the sky when Harthal saw a familiar sight rising from among the woods, soon to be followed by the sight of the Light's Hope Chapel and the group of tens surrounding it. There were only a few actual buildings around it but this place had earned an immortal place within the hearts of the servants of the Light as many the greatest heroes of Lordaeron were buried under its very stones. There were also memorials to legends whose remains couldn't be brought there, starting from Uther the Lightbringer himself to the gallant Turalyon, who had so valiantly sacrificed his life to save Azeroth from the destruction occurring on the orc homeworld of Draenor roughly fifteen years ago.
Harthal finally raised his hand to order his followers to slow down as he saw a small number of guards beginning to run towards him even if it was clear they didn't consider the newcomers a threat. Leading them was a man Harthal knew immediately and the Lord Paladin greeted him heartily, deciding to hide his news at least for a moment.
"Hail, crusader Eligor Dawnbringer! It has been too long since I visited Light's Hope!" Harthal cried, earning a nod from the man towards his comrades. The paladin called Dawnbringer then turned back to the newcomer and spoke to him almost in a careful voice.
"Indeed it has, Lord Paladin. But that is of little importance right now. I take it that your presence here means that Stratholme is finally ours. Has that blessed moment finally come to pass?" The brown-haired man asked, the hope more than clear in his and the rest of the Chapel's garrison's eyes. Harthal frowned at the question and his heavy and forced breathing quickly started to dissipate their hopes. After a brief moment, he answered in a voice that sounded like it belonged to someone decades older than the Lord Paladin.
"No, it hasn't. The battle is completely lost and we were forced to abandon our positions out there. We rode all the way here to help you defend the Chapel in the hours and days to come!" Harthal knew his answer left countless of questions unanswered and immediately, the scene around him seemed to explode into a chorus of desperate cries and confused stutters. For a brief moment, Eligor merely stared forward, trying to come to terms with the news. The offensive which everyone had waited for weeks had turned into a disaster? Any dreams of retaking Stratholme were over? Those thoughts almost swallowed Eligor in their darkness but after a moment, he raised his voice as he ordered his own garrison to calm down.
"Silence, everyone! Let us hear what else the Lord Paladin has to say!" He said before turning back to Harthal. The commander's voice was grave but it still carried a revering tone towards the Lord Paladin.
"What happened out there? Nearly all our forces were marched on Stratholme and victory was all but assured! And what about the Grand Crusader? Is he alright?" He asked in deep confusion, looking as a haunted look appeared to Harthal's eyes. Never since his return from Northrend had the higher-ranked paladin felt this miserable, this hopeless. It felt like another catastrophe from which there was no coming back. Still, he took a deep sigh as he jumped away from his steed's back and walked towards the commander of Light's Hope.
"We were overwhelmed by Kel'Thuzad's plans and magic. That is all there is to it. The last time I saw him, Dathrohan was alive and Light willing, he made it through the battle." He said, only now realizing the mental toll the horrifying battle had taken on him. He suddenly felt his hands shake and his eyes simply stare mindlessly forward as his mind tried to form at least some coherent thoughts. Eligor took a more hopeful look after the other man's words but suddenly, another, younger voice joined the conversation.
"H… how's my father? Certainly you know what happened to him?" Harthal turned slowly to face Darion Mograine, the younger of Alexandros' two sons. Darion was barely even a man yet but his skills as a paladin weren't matched even by many of the more experienced ones. Suddenly, Harthal felt his mouth freezing still, the mere thought of his last encounter with the fallen Highlord horrifying him without an end. The burning madness and cold will to serve the Lich King still lingered before his eyes, wondering what kind of fate would have waited for him had he and Abbendis been unable to hold the death knight at bay. The Lord Paladin's wasn't lost on Osran and he decided to make his superior a favor and spoke to Darion in a low, mournful voice.
"He's gone, Darion. In his stead now stands a death knight who wants nothing more than to deliver all of Azeroth into the Lich King's hands. None of us saw how he fell but we all saw what he has become. I'm sorry." Osran said, knowing that his words were likely to make Darion more upset than necessary but the older paladin himself was completely swallowed by his own sorrow. Only now did his loss begin to fully manifest itself in his heart. Veria's face haunted his thoughts and Osran was disgusted by the thought that he and Veria had reunited like that, only to be forever torn apart by the merciless hand of death. A pain he hadn't felt in years manifested itself within Osran's heart as he heard Darion starting to stutter.
"B… b… but that's impossible! No servant of the Lich King is a match for the Ashbringer! You must have seen someone else!" Darion said as his gaze fell towards the ground, the young man starting to take deep and horrified gasps as Harthal walked towards him. He had a somewhat grim but also understanding look on his face as he addressed the mourning knight.
"He speaks the truth, crusader Mograine. We will all mourn him in the years to come but none of us can change the fact that his time with us is up. You have my deepest condolences, Darion." Harthal said as he slowly turned around to face Eligor again. He took a tired, even angry look as he spoke to his fellow officer.
"But Alexandros' loss is only part of the menace which we now face! The Scourge has been unleashed, Dawnbringer, and we must be ready when the time to take our stand finally comes. Surround the Chapel with barricades! Build catapults with which we can hold the undead at bay! Let no man, woman or child stay still while the time for stopping the Lich King is at hand!" Harthal cried, knowing he was overstepping his authority by giving orders to the knights who weren't his to command. Yet, he knew Eligor well enough to realize that he wasn't one to blame a fellow crusader for such petty things. Instead, he turned to his troops and cried to them with all might.
"You heard him! If the Highlord is leading the undead, we have to be ready when he attacks us! Every able-bodied crusader, get on the move! As for the wounded, we will allow them the time to recover until the attack itself!" The commander cried, the dozens of Light's Hope's garrison members joining the survivors of Stratholme in emptying the storages of lumber and the blacksmith's house of any spare armor.
Osran, too, got on the move but he kept on eye for the Crusaders around him, there were still many comrades he hadn't seen since the battle and even if they were most likely in Tyr's Hand, there was a chance that they could… Suddenly, he felt some of his anxiety ease as he saw Eneath standing among the paladins but Osran immediately noticed something that made him frown deeply. His nephew seemed to limp badly and only now did he remember the injuries Eneath had suffered in the battle of Plaguewood. Osran quickly moved towards him and spoke to him softly.
"Thank the Light you're alive, Eneath! I worried you wouldn't be able to fight to fight your way from that slaughterhouse!" He said, wanting to begin this brief reunion on a positive note. Eneath looked surprised by his uncle's appearance but he soon took a similar smile to the older knight's.
"I could say the same about you, uncle. In fact, I'm surprised any of us are still alive, considering what happened out there." He said, shuddering from what he had seen. The shame and outrage of defeat lingered at the back of his mind but for now, survival was the only thing that mattered. Osran nodded to his nephew and then spoke to him in a silent voice.
"You've done your share of today's fights. You deserve a chance to begin healing your injuries so you can do your best in the days to come. There are many knights with less injuries trying to simply get a moment of rest." Osran said, looking with some chagrin at the groups of wounded who were being carried into the chapel. Eneath's eyes widened and he immediately answered to Osran, clearly disapproving of his words.
"I am in a good enough condition to help the others…" He began but Osran could see from his walking that his legs were seriously wounded and that each step was a painful one for his nephew. He suddenly snapped back at the younger man in a voice which brokered no disagreement.
"Eneath, I see that you're in in condition to work right now. I'm proud that you want to give your all to help us out here but you also have to think about the future. If you exhaust yourself here and prevent your wounds from healing, who does that help in the coming battle? You have to always think of the best way to serve the Crusade, Eneath." He said while laying his hand on Eneath's shoulder, nodding at him encouragingly. Eneath looked at his uncle for a long time, willing to answer something to his proposition but he could see that Osran really meant what he said. And as he twitched his torso slightly forward, he could feel his body struggling to halt the bleeding from his countless wounds. In the end, he had to admit his uncle had a point and he took a deep sigh as he answered.
"Very well, Osran, but only for today. I don't want the others to fight my battles for me as long as I can still breath!" He answered, cursing his earlier carelessness. He was about to turn around and head back inside when he heard Osran speak to him again.
"And please, keep your eyes and ears open. I saw in Stratholme that Carethas is a traitor. I was about to stop him but the Lord Paladin prevented me from doing my duty. I'm not sure about him but we cannot trust anyone who defends an agent of the Scourge. And after today, we have to be more vigilant than ever. Do you understand?" Osran said, regretting that he hadn't told of his encounter with them to Dathrohan but in the end, the Grand Crusader was over such things. The Crimson Legion had to prove itself to be completely capable of handling treacherous cadets on its own and as for Harthal, Osran didn't really have proof against him. Eneath frowned further, not willing to hear that another of his comrades had failed the Crusade but… Osran's expression told he believed in that wholeheartedly and he didn't have real reason to question his uncle. He nodded awkwardly before heading towards the chapel itself.
"I will. But for now, I won't take any more of your time, uncle. Be safe." Eneath said as he turned around and prepared for a well-earned rest after the battle. Osran was somewhat disappointed by his nephew's answer but it couldn't be helped now. The older knight, too, turned on his heels and joined the other knights in preparing Light's Hope for the coming battles.
As the evening's shadows grew longer, barricades twice higher than any of the knights had risen to surround the chapel, siege equipment dotting the surroundings of the chapel heavily. The crusaders spared no effort in attempting to spare their village from the Scourge but to their surprise, only small groups of ghouls and gargoyles attempted to breach through the wooden walls. It was hardly what had been expected but in the end, that could only mean the Scourge was either cleaning the countryside of any crusader outposts or charging into Tyr's Hand right now. In any case, the atmosphere among the defenders was heavier than in ages as all of them waited for the final end of their precious dream.
However, it never seemed to come. An hour after hour passed and nothing out of the ordinary seemed to happen. The mood slowly turned into a confused one as this grand battle Harthal had promised failed to materialize. The Lord Paladin saw to the defenses personally, knowing he'd know the enemy forces better than any of his comrades but no matter how intensely he stared into the darkened woods, not one shadow of an undead seemed to dwell beneath the dead trees. The longer this fearful silence went on, the more concerned he grew as he could have bet his very life that the Scourge would have attacked Light's Hope as soon as they could. And as the evening grew older, the Lord Paladin's concern grew into a fear. There was certainly something going on and he would have to know what.
Harthal crossed his arms and gritted his teeth as he thought about what he was going to do. He needed a small group to search Light's Hope's surroundings and to see if there was anything suspicious going on. Harthal knew it was a dangerous gamble on his knights' lives but there was no alternative. If the Scourge was on the move nearby, they couldn't be allowed to see their plans through without any efforts from the Crusade to stop them. Harthal snorted in annoyance as he turned around, preparing to amass this small group he'd need to safeguard the order in this dangerous situation.
Only the silent steps of the steeds could be heard in the pitch-black night as the small group of knights treaded forward through the decayed forest. Osran cursed the fact that he was ordered on this mission as he had barely slept a minute after the start of the offensive on Plaguewood and he could hardly force himself to stay on his steed's back without falling into the ground. Yet, as always, it was his duty to answer the call of the Crusade and he knew just how important this mission was. If there were any threats nearby, the knights would find them before it would be too late.
"Commander Dawnbringer? Did you find anything?" Osran heard Darion ask as the officer of the group reunited with the main force after a short search of his own. The aging knight could see no features of the officer of Tyr's Hand but his voice confirmed his identity without any doubts.
"Only one abomination who tried to ambush me in a small glade not far from here. Luckily I could repel it before it was too late." He said, seemingly willing to just forget that incident and move on. Osran, however, answered to him next, more than honored to have been named the second officer of this investigating party.
"That hardly qualifies as a harbinger of any incoming attack, commander. Neither have we found anything of note, despite searching these woods for hours." Osran said, knowing that many of his comrades were already questioning this whole quest. Darion especially had been of little help as he was still completely broken by the loss of his father. Osran could relate to his pain after his own loss but he had done a far better job hiding his sorrow from his comrades. Eligor ordered his steed closer to his comrades and answered to Osran in a low voice, knowing that there was no reason to keep any more noise than what was absolutely necessary.
"There are still regions further towards Northdale where the Scourge could try to launch a surprise attack against Light's Hope. Even then, I must say I'm astonished that we've found nothing thus far." Eligor said as he forced his steed to turn around again to move to the direction he had spoken of. However, Darion's voice interrupted him immediately as the young man's pained wail reached his ears.
"But that area is far hillier than the lands around here! The Scourge would be crazy to attack us from there!" Darion cried, not able to hide his overall reluctance to simply go on with this mission from his superiors. Many of his comrades looked at Darion in annoyance and it wasn't long until Osran rode past him, giving his answer to the young man briefly.
"Then that makes it a great option for them to attack against us, Mograine. We cannot overlook even the slightest of possibilities when we are facing a threat like this! So quit whining and ride forward, everyone!" Osran said before following Eligor into the darkness. Darion frowned deeply but he knew there were no options other than completing his duty.
Yet, the hills north of Light's Hope were no more interesting than the plains to the south. Even from the higher mounds which overlooked much of the surrounding land, no major movement of the undead could be seen. The night was nearly completely still which disturbed Eligor even more than an army of the Scourge would have. The Light's Hope was safe for now but these developments most likely implied that a massive offensive against Tyr's Hand was under way. Yet, there was nothing to be done about it as sending reinforcements there could open Light's hope for a potential attack. For now, the commander knew there was only one thing to do: to return to Light's Hope and try to get a contact to Tyr's Hand and, if possible, to the Grand Crusader himself too. He turned wearily to look at his comrades and spoke to them with a beaten voice.
"We won't find anything in this night. Let us return to Light's Hope. Maybe morning will bring some news about our situation." He said, earning many nods of agreement from the other knights. Osran rode towards him slowly, answering to his superior's proposition readily.
"I have to agree, commander Dawnbringer. We are just wasting time around here. Let us just hope that things stay…" Suddenly, a loud thud and a horse's low wail pierced the night, immediately alerting the crusaders to full readiness. They turned to the direction of the voice which had come from an unusually lush thicket to their left. Eligor and Osran dismounted immediately and started to walk towards the bush, their blades in full readiness. The Crimson Legionary cried with a loud voice, dreading what they might find. If this was some trick of the Horsemen, the knights' survival would become unlikely beyond any measure but they just couldn't leave this matter uninvestigated.
"Identify yourself or prepare to be eliminated, whoever you are! Show yourself, now!" He ordered as slight movement could again be seen in the bush. Osran's heart beat in his ears terribly as he knew the danger he was in. The tension was tangible in the air… until the stranger finally crouched from the bush, his voice wheezing horribly.
"I thought that… that I wouldn't need introduction. Please… help me reach Light's Hope." High Inquisitor Fairbanks seemed utterly confused and weak and his body was covered with deep wounds. It was clear that he would be on death's door soon without help. Osran, however, wasn't completely satisfied with the answer and no mercy could be seen in his eyes.
"The High Inquisitor was told to have fallen at Stratholme along with the Highlord. If you are not some servant of Kel'Thuzad, I'd advise you to prove it and explain how you could have reached this place alone from Naxxramas." Osran said, earning some confused looks from the other knights, even Eligor, but none objected to his order. The cleric took another deep breath and struggled to rise to his knees as he answered.
"I… I found one of the steeds that escaped during the first battle in Plaguewood and… and it was her cry you heard. It's a shame that this is to be her final resting place. As for how I'm here… the battle was tough but most of the undead were drawn out of Naxxramas which allowed me to escape. I… I saw all of it, Crimson Legionary. I'll tell all of it once we reach Light's Hope." He spoke as Eligor walked beside him and put his hand on the inquisitor's head, closing his eyes for a moment. After a few seconds, he rose up addressed Osran and the rest of his followers.
"I sense no Plague within him. It is our duty to take him to Light's Hope but then it will be his job to prove he is who he claims to be." Eligor said, earning a deep frown from Osran. The latter knew his commander was right but he didn't like this one bit. Osran simply had too many experiences of betrayal to accept Fairbanks' words but with a forced sigh, he gave his answer.
"It certainly will be, Dawnbringer! Well, raise him on one of the horses so we can get going!" He said as the inquisitor took a brief smile. Against all odds, he had managed to rejoin the crusaders and soon, so very soon, he'd have the chance to tell the story which would change the fate of the Scarlet Crusade forever. Silence reigned over the small group of knights as they started their way back to the Light's Hope under the pale light of the stars.
The crusaders have managed to escape from the most terrifying of deaths but the order's woes are only beginning. With the threat of the undead hanging over the brave knights, will Fairbanks' return and his tale spell the final end to the unity of the Scarlet Crusade? If any of you have thoughts concerning this story, please let me know of them. Other than that, see you next time!
