This would have to be done cleverly. I couldnt just start bringing my servants with me, I just secured this place to avoid that. However, the benefits to doing this could be useful.
Westfall and its surrounding territories are very poor, but have incredible potential for growth under the right circumstances.
Its connected to Duskwood, Stranglethorn Vale, and Elywnn forest. All either ripe for conquest, or exploitation.
I could have a whole country dedicated to furthering my power.
With the distracted Stormwind at its flank no real aggressors will come about until the war slows down, which means I would have plenty of time to build the broken land into something more useful to me.
I didnt yet have the kind of magic to manage a full defense from any of the real powers on this rock, but my wealth and their distraction could prove an apt opportunity.
If I had something to lose in the gamble I might have considered a different option, but as it was I saw no reason not to.
If I failed to take control, the alliance would take over and I could simply buy Moonbrook as a wealthy merchant. Stormwind would happily accept the money of someone who wants to pay a stupid sum for a largely useless town with a bad reputation.
I stepped outside of my quarters wearing my original body, clothed in a tailored silk vest and black pants. VanCleef's personal wear.
"Get a cart together, and bring me mister Flint. We have work to do."
Sentinel hill was the last bastion of hope for westfall. In the wake of Stormwind's inaction the people had gathered what strength they could to push the bandits out themselves.
With the help of a smattering of guards hundreds of those hurt by the Defias onslaught gathered. A thousand strong force of those who had lost their homes and families to bandits claiming they were right to do what they had done.
They all gathered inside an old but stalwart fortress, its walls partially sorrounding a hill with a lone tower atop it.
Its people were somber and poor, hoping against hope some passing mercenaries or adventurers would be kind enough to free them of their aggressors without pay.
The sight of a cart being pulled, with a lone figure leading it would usually be one of joy, a testament that Westfall was still a place people traveled, even in times like these, if not for one factor.
The cart they could see in the distance was approaching from the road that lead in the direction of the town of Moonbrook, and the heart of Defias territory.
Noone but bandits traveled that road anymore, and someone approaching from their could mean only the Defias was approaching them now.
The guards rang the warning bell, and word quickly spread to the inhabitants of the Fortress, many gathered, preparing weapons for whatever may come for them.
Over the years the Defias had grown confident, the inaction of Stormwind giving them the courage to attack directly. Hundreds had been lost over the years as the Defias attacked them directly.
The figure that approached the gate wore a dark cloak, and the beings pulling the cart behind him wore the garb of the organisation that had plagued their land for fifteen years.
The cart stopped just outside the gate, its contents hidden in tied bags.
"People of Sentinel hill!" The figure called, his voice hoarse. "I have come to you to submit myself to your judgment!"
The man pulled back the hood of his robe. His face was pale and his eyes were darkened by lack of sleep.
"I have come to confess my crimes to my people!"
With a flourish the man pulled his cloak aside, revealing a head strapped to his belt.
"And I have come to tell my brothers and sisters they are free!"
The man held up the severed head, its face covered in the infamous red bandanna of the Defias.
"Open the gates, I have with me no weapons, and I bare no ill-will to the last defenders of my homeland."
There was a pause as the guards spoke with one another, before the great wooden doors of the gate swung backward, men pulling them back to allow the traveler inside.
The figure stepped forward, the men dragging the cart following behind him as defenders surrounded him, weapons drawn. The crowd was a mixed group of men dressed in full plate, wearing the colors of Stormwind, and peasants wearing chain-mail.
A few men approached to relieve the procession of weapons, before stumbling back with screams at the sight before them. "Scourge! Necromancer!" they called out, eyes wide with terror, quickly the crowd drew forward, only stopping as the man tossed the Defias head at their feet.
"Undead. I do not serve the Scourge any longer!" With a snap of the mans fingers, the zombies pulling the cart collapsed as the magic left them. "And I ask only that you hear my words before you take my life."
The figure gathered himself for a moment once it was clear the crowd would not attack just yet, before he began to speak.
"Once, I was one of you. My father tended to his farm just a short ten miles from this very fortress, fifteen years ago. We weren't wealthy and we did not have much land, but our farm was enough to provide for my family."
The man looked around, hopefully, as peoples weapons lowered and the hate and fear began to fade from their eyes.
"We were happy, content with what life was for us. Even when the Defias began their reign of terror over this land we stayed strong. We kept to our farm and waited for help to arrive even as our neighbors were killed or worse."
The man gritted his teeth, anger and frustration clear for all to see. The crowd began to grow as the man spoke, as more and more people gathered to listen to the necromancer's story.
"We waited for five years before the Defias came for us too. They butchered my father in his sleep. They raped my mother before my very eyes. I managed to escape before they could take my life. I was lucky enough to grab my fathers hidden wealth as I left, and left to make a better life for myself."
A haunted look grew in the mans eyes now, remembering horrors long past. "I couldn't bear the thought of staying in Stormwind after they abandoned us, so I fled to Lordaeron. My journey was long, but the thought of a place that wasn't a constant reminder of those who failed to defend my family gave me the strength to travel onward."
The man laughed, but it was hollow, empty. "It was a mistake. I arrived in time to see the land grow sickly, to watch the sky turn a plagued yellow. I witnessed an ever hungering army of monstrous undead consume all in its path."
"When the necromancers passed the wreckage of a cart I was traveling I pledged to serve them in return for my life, and knowledge of their craft. I was beaten, but allowed to travel with them to where they taught those who would create the armies of the dead."
The mans head bowed. "Scholomance." When he looked up it was with steel in his eyes. "I did terrible things in the name of my survival, I learned some of the Vilest magic there is, and when I grew strong enough, I escaped."
"I escaped and I made my way back, not stopping once in my travels. I passed beautiful pastures, and the shining city of Stormwind, where merchants plied their trade and warriors aplenty defended a people who knew they would be protected to the bitter end."
The man looked around the crowd, making eye contact with those around him. The crowd, once a mob eager to see his head on a spike, now looked back at him, eagerly awaiting his next words, knowing already what he would say, and hating it.
"I returned, certain it would be to a land finally saved from the bandits that had torn it apart. I returned expecting rolling green hills, just as beautiful as the day I left." The man gestured to the land around them, the yellowed grass and empty farmsteads.
"Instead I found a people not just neglected, but abandoned. I found a single fortress manned by a couple hundred desperate men and women trying their damnedest to protect a territory the size of a country!" Scattered yells joined his words.
"I had come here in hopes of taking up my fathers ways, in hopes of finding some way of redeeming myself for the evil I've done. It took only one look at this land for me give up on redemption for my sins."
The man growled now at the crowd, a righteous anger in him that they all shared. "I went to Moonbrook, where once my aunt and her children resided, where my father traded his goods. I went into that ruin of a town, knowing already what awaited me."
The mans hand rose, and shadowed flame flickered between his fingers. "With the magics I swore to myself I would never use again I attacked, I killed men and rose them as tools. I delved deep into the depths of that mine, and I slaughtered every man that dared to wear that mask!"
Stunned silence met his words. Could it be true?
He grabbed at one of the bags within the cart, tossing it to the earth. Gold, more than any of them had ever seen spilled from it.
"I found Edwin VanCleef, and as a gift to all of you I bring his head, and all the wealth he had ever stolen from us!" Cheers erupted around him, the sound of people realizing they were finally free.
The man picked up another bag, the coins clinking for all to hear."Fifteen years of stolen wealth, returned to the people."
For a moment the crowd roared so loud one would think ten times the number had gathered. "Fifteen years of wealth to be taxed away, and stolen by those who abandoned us."
They quieted in an instant. Anger growing as the truth fell upon them. ""For the war." They would say, before they stole every last coin."
The man looked around once more, meeting the eyes of people he had saved. "Arrest me if you will, kill me if you must, but I ask that you do it now. I ask that you do it not as members of the Alliance, not as citizens of the kingdom of Stormwind."
The man looked to those wearing Stormwind tabards and full plate, the men looking away in shame."I ask that you judge me as the people of Westfall."
The man held his arms out for all to see. "I am a necromancer. I am a murderer. But I am of Westfall, and I will not be judged by Stormwind any longer."
"If my people want me to die as a criminal, as a murderer for what I've done, I will accept it gladly. But I would have each and everyone of you know that if I am to live, my powers, evil though they may be, will be used to take this land back."
The mans arms spread, his voice reaching above the crowd, now the full garrison of Sentinel hill.
"My name Is Marcus of MoonBrook. Who stands with me!?"
A much longer chapter than I usually go for, but one I felt was necessary.