Sneaky AN: Interludes are short right? …. 8k words is short right?
Grey AN: … Yes?
[Off the coast of Transborea, Horde Fleet]
"You are lucky to be alive Hellscream."
'Lucky'? The old fool called this 'Lucky'? I gave a glare at him as he looked away, before returning to the stump of an arm I now carried shamefully.
Much of the battle was a blur in my mind, images blending together so easily that only the broad things remained. I recalled little of what caused the assault, just sand erupting into plumes in the early light and the beginnings of battle. Explosions hit the Demolishers, and by that point, I was running to kill some bug-creature trying to gut my men. Then the mist came in.
"I certainly don't feel lucky. I can never wield a weapon in my hand again BECAUSE IT IS MISSING!" The old fool had the nerve to look at me like I was still a pup, before resuming his survey over maps and papers that were useless with the failure. A warrior without both hands? I'd never wield axes in my hands ever again, let alone…
And the cursed rituals of the Shattered Hand were not something I would even consider. Warsong have pride, and scars were worn, when they were as debilitating as mine.
"Eitrigg and I know full well how rare it is to return from an encounter with a Death Knight with only a limb chopped off." He didn't even look at me, still too busy in his maps to remember Thrall gave me command over this expedition. "If you're finished brooding. We have matters to attend to because of your… Aggression."
I snorted. "We Warsong do not retreat until the enemy is crushed."
"You'd make a poor Warsong then if you take those teachings so literally." Rage came quick, and the next thing I knew I was against the wall, chokeslammed with the Old Warrior staring me straight in the face, eyes hard. "Your Father laid those tenets. And you understand none of them."
"Says the Blackrock." I spit the clan's name as it justly deserved to be as I struggled against his grip.
He let me drop, and I caught myself against the wall before I could fall into a heap on the floor. I refused to show such weakness, Warsong had pride, and disgracing myself like I was some weak runt was not an option. "I worked with your Father many times since the days of the Old Horde. I was the 'Emissary' of Blackhand, and later Doomhammer."
I stayed silent.
"Warsong do not retreat." The first rule of the Warsong Clan, when Fa- when the Chieftain began his rampage against the Ogres. "Grommash knew better than to attack without knowing. He would never charge into a battle he couldn't win, even with his recklessness." That was only right. Warriors were not thrown into a grinder when they'd be better off living killing another foe.
"If he and his warriors were caught in a battle they were unprepared for, they would withdraw."
That went against the Clan's Way! To withdraw was to retreat, to retreat was to withdraw! A growl echoed as I stewed, knowing what would happen if I tried anything again.
"I know exactly what you think. 'Withdrawing is retreating!'. You would be incorrect." I snorted in contempt and moved to the other side of the dimly lit table. "That was not a battle he initiated, so he did not continue it." I stared, scrunching my face and trying to make sense of it… and couldn't wrap my mind around it. He sighed.
"The fourth of the Warsong's Ways. 'We leave only when we are done.' When your battle is not about killing all of your enemies, what is 'done'?"
"Spare me the lecture old one." The frown I received was severe, but I ignored it and my stewing rage for a more important matter. "How many are there left?"
He was silent for a moment, before picking up a report. "... Ten ships, fully loaded with our forces, and barely any supplies left." I clenched my hand, and barely refrained from slamming it against the table. We didn't have supplies to waste. Not now.
What few ships were still afloat and running were not in the best shape, nor good on room, and the moment we were done the wounded would be brought in. It'd be a miracle if a quarter of the Expedition linked up with Drannosh and that arrogant Overlord. My first time as a leader… and it was a disgraceful failure!
"You were not at fault Garrosh."
My head snapped up at the Old Warrior's words, cleaning up the reports and extinguishing the candles as he prepared to leave. This time I did slam my fist against the table as I shouted, "How could it not be? Am I not supposed to lead the Horde to Glory? Traitors were in our ranks and I did not find them!"
"They knew where we were landing. They waited for the exact moment we let our guard down. They took out the only weapons that let us have any ability to hold them. And the Mist-callers were something no-one could predict." Was his calm rebuttal. "And rare is the day where even the most competent General can find a traitor before they act. Your mistake was to charge headlong into it all."
He turned and began walking away. "Come. We have spent long enough here."
I remained silent, a scowl darkening my face that the old man ignored as I followed after him. Turning my head to the grunt leaning against the wall, I jerked my head to the door and followed after my 'advisor', we weren't done speaking. "What would you... suggest as our next course." As much as it hurt my pride as Warsong to say, I was inexperienced, the most I had led back on Draenor was a few hunting parties, and only those who were close friends joined with me. Drannosh was the one who led before me. But still, simple undead shouldn't have been able to stop me.
The Old Warrior hummed, thinking as we headed up the stairs to the upper deck and into the freezing air. "My advice would be to regroup with Overlord Angmar, and then fortify our position to secure a supply route back to Orgrimmar." A low growl rumbled in my throat as I nodded my head, not that the old man would know. "After that… well, then we can turn our attention to finding your lost 'honor'."
I couldn't help but remember the two at the top of the cliffs, I had a feeling the challenge ahead of me would be greater than either of us could imagine. "There were two creatures on the cliff. A Mist-caller Champion cutting men in half without effort and a Necromancer that was keeping pace with him." The old orc hummed loud enough for me to hear, his thoughts a mystery to me.
"I saw the end of their 'duel'. Everyone on the beach saw it."
I grunted in response, not much else could be said I never got to see what sort of twisted sorcery she used as the Champion had punted me like I was some whelp. Directly into the path of that Death Knight. "I don't care how strong they are. They will die."
The old Warrior merely sighed, leaning against the metal railing and peering off into the distance.
Eventually, he looked back at me, straightening himself from his slouch as he uttered the declaration of our people. "For the Horde."
"For the Horde." I saluted then went off on my own, leaving the old man to his old thoughts and taking care not to disrupt any of the soldiers left on deck.
It was a promise as much as a declaration or battlecry. We lived for the ones back home, we fought the dark forces so that our people could go to sleep each night safe. If need be, our own lives would be used to stop whatever came. Those were the words that Thrall told me as we left from Draenor. I had no one but Dranosh when we left, now I have a city, a people, a home.
And no matter what Evil came at me in this cursed land, I would strike it down. My gaze lingered to my severed stump, and my other hand clenched in rage at the sight. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow. But my enemies would fall, my pride satisfied, and my people safe.
I would prove myself worthy of my Father's Legacy. And in doing so, ensure the Horde would prosper.
[Onslaught Harbor]
Dis place… be shit.
De weatha be terrible, rain an' hail makin' it a pain to see. Den Wraith's soljas be given' Tzo'zi's bruddas and sistas dem looks, and dat be makin' Tzo'zi's anger flare. An' ta top it off, dere be someting bout Wraith that be… off.
Someting… that reminded Tzo'zi of de King.
Whateva it was though, didn't matter much to Tzo'zi. Wraith could be one of de Old Tings in de tablets, and Tzo'zi would still follow her 'round. In a way, Wraith reminded Tzo'zi of more… satisfyin' times with Brudda. She be ruthless, she be strong, she knew how ta use every ting unda her to da best. An' that be before de fun Wraith left for Tzo'zi. Two tings for the Collection, and more ta follow if Tzo'zi's gut was right.
De problem right now be, findin' a spot for de Corrupted Blood.
We be Trolls first, an' Death Knights second, we needed space away from de rest of Wraith's souljas for de rituals and rings ta control da Lust. Da otha Death Knights dat Tzo'zi been with before be prone to da Lust, it made dem weak and fight among demselves. Tzo'zi still remember de old ways Brudda taught.
Tzo'zi took a long, long time to find de propa place for de Order. De abandoned city didn't serve well, da mojo and loa wouldn't come in such narrow and lifeless places. De otha island though… dat place worked, it reeked of abominable, wretched magicks, but dat was easy ta fix. A few corpses, some fetishes, an' a good ol' shrine ta Bwonsamdi would deal with it, an' den it'd be a good place ta work an' duel.
Bwonsamdi be a good partna ta be with. De othas abandoned us when Zul'Aman fell, Bwonsamdi was willin' ta make deals ta each of us left when we went ta da King, unlike de pride-filled Loa of de Forest. De deals be simple, we worship Bwonsamdi, our kills go ta Bwonsamdi, we go to Bwonsamdi. In return we got Power, not enough ta challenge de King, or any of de Liches, but enough ta putta lil' umpf in our mojo.
De only problem be gettin' the materials for de Shrine. De rest be easy to get, but de Shrine? Dat needed special stone, special wood, not easy ta get in dis land. Pride be worthless ta Berserkers, Death Knights were prone ta it, but a Berserker's sole purpose is ta kill and kill. Tzo'zi be havin' a chat with Wraith when she be done meetin' with dat Demon. De smell of souls and pain be strong on dat one, and de body…
Tzo'zi be reminded of dem… whateva de bat-men be called. They not be worth Tzo'zi's time to rememba. Wraith herself though, she be interestin'.
Falric, de Boss of da Death Knights on dis side o' Northrend, he liked Wraith's abilities enough ta put Tzo'zi and de Corrupted Blood with her. Hehe. Tzo'zi understood why. She be like Brudda in a way, schemes in place and de powa ta make dem schemes work. 'Cept… she be even stronga den Brudda, from de magic Wraith used, to de way she carried herself. Not like da othas undastood yet. When de ring be made, Tzo'zi be teaching little Tehzeth again. She didn't like Tzo'zi's decision, and needed ta be reminded why To'zi was de Leada of de Corrupted Blood, and not some Gurubashi fanatic still obsessed wit Hakkar.
Wraith be worthy of Tzo'zi's strength for now, even with her being a Lich like dat. Though de matter of what she be and how she became dat was something Tzo'zi didn't know. Tzo'zi thought ya needed all dem facy rituals and whatnot….but Wraith, she just up an did it like it was nothing.
Wraith be hidin' a past, but dat not be Tzo'zi's business. So long as Wraith gave Tzo'zi killin', butchery and tings to collect ta honor Bwonsamdi, Tzo'zi be content. Tzo'zi had a feelin' 'bout her, and Tzo'zi's feelin's neva been wrong before, even if Tzo'zi wish othawise.
Destiny playin' with Tzo'zi again, and Tzo'zi know Tzo'zi's destiny.
[Castle Town of Wintergarde]
The marshaling bells ringing was not a new occurrence in Wintergarde, what this specific bell marshaled for however was something that we weren't expecting.
Reinforcements… or rather, the battered remnants of Arlos' fleet.
What exactly happened, I didn't and wouldn't know until I met with Arlos, or whoever was in charge. "OPEN THE GATES!" My order was carried to the gatehouse from my spot on the southernmost tower by the men watching the walls. It would take me a while to make it to the gate, but given the pace of those men and women, I had no doubt that I'd be there just in time for the first one to pass through the gates into, relative, safety.
The Scourge were busy with something further to the west, with what my scouts couldn't tell me, but my gut told me it was something big, especially with him in charge. And from what little information managed to get sent our way from Valgarde, their landing went well and fortifications were being erected. Everything west of Wintergarde was a dead zone for information, and I wasn't risking any scouts, no matter how good they were to investigate it. Not until we were secured and had the second wave with us.
But even I didn't need scouts to see the increasing number of Necropli in the sky.
Legionaries of the 7th stood at the ready by the gate as I approached, ready for whatever Arlos' men needed aid with, whether it be food or medical attention. By the Light's grace, it wasn't as bad as I feared, there were some wounded, but for the majority they were simply wearing an aura of despair and defeat around them. I could leave that issue to my troops and the citizens of Wintergarde, as the Commander, I was forced to partake in other matters than helping my fellow soldiers.
There was one who didn't share any issue with Arlos' men, and it came as no surprise given the aura of cold radiating off him.
I had met him only once before when the Ebon Blade sent a few Knights to… parlay with King Wrynn. Given what he was, it was hardly surprising that I kept away from him. I had not lost any family to the Scourge, not when the First War left me burying my daughters and wife, and for that I had some small comfort, but such an unholy abomination was anathema to the Light and all it touched. Still, I kept myself cordial, which was better than the foolish Scarlet mission.
His was the only name introduced, though few even knew his name, in fact, I had no knowledge of anything this man had done. Thassarian. No family name. An enigma that made me wary, but one that I could put aside my distaste for and work with for Justice and the Alliance.
Walking straight towards the man, Thassarian barely paused before looking me straight in the eye, a suppressed shudder nearly showing at the dead glowing eyes. No matter how hardened and pious one was, seeing those eyes sent a chill down one's spine. "Death Knight." He barely reacted, nonchalant and, dare I say, rather bored as he continued staring at me, waiting for me to continue. "Walk with me."
The… man, shrugged his shoulders before falling in step as I turned and began walking back to the Keep, there were scout reports from further west across the tundra I needed to look over, especially with the lack of Scourge lately. Once we were far enough away from the troops, I started asking my questions. "Arlos?"
"Dead, alongside most of the senior Command for the ground. Highest rank left is a Second Lieutenant." Just as devoid of emotion, Thassarian's cold voice sent as much of a chill as his eyes did, but I shouldered through. "I'm the only one that got off the beach, and that's because Arlos sent me to give the retreat order."
I took his word, not because I trusted him, but because he was part of the Ebon Blade, and Lord Fordring vouched for their trustworthiness and their grudge against the Lich King. That left me in a position where Arlos' 3rd Legion was essentially leaderless until someone from Stormwind or Ironforge arrived to take command, which could take weeks, if not a month.
At this point, someone ignorant of how the Legions worked would say for me to just 'absorb' the remnants of the 3rd into the 7th. That route would not work, especially with the 7th.
The 7th were the special forces, beaten only by the old 1st Legion of Lordaeron and Trollbane's Honor Hold regiment, the 3rd were defensive specialists rumored to make entire forts in only a few days. Our forces were incompatible, not just in the tactics but in mindset and personality. It was normally a strength but in this instance nothing more than a liability.
And it only further stated how bad the situation had been that Arlos ordered a retreat. The man and his men were as stubborn as a Dwarf missing his ale.
"A shame." That was all that could be said. Was it a tragedy that Arlos, great and noble paladin as he was, had fallen. Of course, but all who came North, and all who would come North, knew Evil lies here, and the dangers that roamed free and terrible. It could have easily been myself and the 7th that had been killed, or the 8th further East. It was a small relief that so many managed to escape the death trap, but it didn't change the fact that death was close at hand with each moment. "What did you face there?
Silence was my answer, and I had to look over at the Death Knight to make sure he hadn't just stopped, as some of my aides and advisors had a habit of doing. But no, Thassarian was keeping pace by my side, not even looking the least bit in thought, which I attributed more to his condition than anything else.
"A Necromancer that I have not seen or heard of before, an extremely powerful one. Blew up seven ships with a single spell." His eventual answer made the situation grim, an unknown Necromancer with that amount of power wasn't something that could be dealt with by the common man, or even the 7th. It was something for the Adventurers, the Ebon Blade, or the Argent Crusade. "And while I have no confirmation, she had one of the lesser orders with her."
'Lesser order'? I knew little of the ways of the Death Knights, and I planned to keep it that way, but this was something that caught my interest. Unfortunately, Thassarian continued before I could question him further. "Aside from them, the Necromancer had Undead Tauren with her. With access to their Shamanism." My frown deepened, that was not good news, but there wasn't much that we could do against such practices, or even understand how that was possible. Only a fraction of the Draenei practiced Shamanism, and they were the only ones in the Alliance with any knowledge of the art.
And the detachment from the Exodar was two weeks out when I last had communication with them.
I clicked my tongue but nodded gravely. There was little I could do but pass on the information to Lord Fordragon at Valgarde, who'd pass it on to the King. This would just go with the rest of the information compiled by the scouts and have a little more urgency than all but one thing in there. "Thank you for the report. I take it you are going to report to the High Lords of this development?"
He nodded briskly, stopping shortly after I did and turning to face the direction I pointed in. "The Mausoleum is that way, at the base of the cliff. Make haste." He nodded again, his expression not having changed once throughout our conversation, and walked down the path towards where the old nobles of Wintergarde laid. I watched him go, the natural revulsion slowly leaving me before I let out a breath and walked back to the keep. There were still reports to go over, and I needed to figure out what to do with Naxxramas and its forces, and the tower they were sieging.
There would be no sleep again tonight. There was simply too much to do, and Windstryke and Eligor both were busy with their own duties.
May the Light be with us.
[Onslaught Cathedral]
"I still don't understand 'The Light' Heinrich. You'd think after spending almost two decades with the Crusade we'd understand something about it."
I ignored Thessa, continuing the drills that Instructor Razuvious had taught me while keeping my mind honed on the task at hand. Thessa continued talking though, and like normal I lost myself in it. "It exists yeah. The Paladins and Priests wouldn't be doing their mumbo jumbo stuff without it. It just makes no sense." That was why we weren't Paladins.
The words stilled for a moment as my hammer sent the reinforced dummy flying in pieces, metal and wood clattering against the stone floor. I sighed, sheathing my mace and shield to begin the process of picking up the pieces… again. With the unwanted break in my training, I took a moment to respond to Thessa's… questioning. "The Light is the Light. All we need to know."
She hummed, before shrugging her shoulders, clearly disinterested now that I hadn't reciprocated. "I guess." From her spot atop one of the columns, she looked outside the window into the piss-poor weather, even for Icecrown. "What do you think about the Lady, Heinrich?"
I stopped in my tracks, just shy of the last piece as I mulled over the question. Lady Wraith was… different from the Scourge, strange considering she was aligned with them. It had been only a short while since she had taken control of the Harbor, but she'd already done far more in her short time than the prior Lord. On top of the fact that she wasn't working us to the bone, it left the impression that she was… 'benevolent' in a way.
She was still Scourge though, which hacked the image to pieces and burned it as Stratholme had.
Despite that, she didn't act like a proper Scourge, as far as I was aware anyway, having only dealt with Necromancers and the rare Lich. From what few instances I had seen before leading attacks on the Scourge prior to Tyr's Hand being lost, undead were largely menial labor regardless of their prowess, or just left to wander aimlessly until gathered in a horde. Lady Wraith didn't.
Or from what her Patron promised us.
In the end, she was just another superior, better in some ways and worse in others than the last one.
I didn't think much more on the subject after that, only entertaining the question because it was Thessa who initiated it. "She's a person. Better than having some arrogant Lich in charge." I felt more than saw the pout she gave me at that answer, used to it after so many conversations and I felt a small smile grow at the reaction before wiping it off before she could see it.
"I guess…" Finishing up cleaning, I slowly started to piece the dummy back together. A quiet sigh left my mouth as I undertook the task, wishing for one of those dummies that the Instructor had just so I could train without breaking my target. "How's the supply situation looking now that we got wood and stone coming in?"
Thessa's question had me stop again, only this time I actually had to give her my full attention. Ramblings and impressions weren't my job, nor something I was interested in so I had little to contribute. But this? This was important. "Coastal walls need a few more shipments of blocks, probably two full ones if I had to guess." I turned around and saw her nod in acknowledgment, waiting for me to continue.
"New buildings are getting constructed, and old ones replaced, with stone once we get excess. Probably another seventeen to twenty shipments based on how much is left over that we can use." The walls were ambitious, but Lady Wraith wanted us to make the Harbor into a Fortress, so we'd make the damn thing harder to take than Hearthglen. "Wood's being put to use making siege emplacements on the new walls. Outside that, ammo and weapons are getting made with the smaller planks."
"Quality?"
"Better stuff than Quel'thalassian in material. Don't know where Lady Wraith and you got this stuff, but it ain't breaking except from something heavy." She nodded her head, pleased with the report. She'd be reporting the rest to Lady Wraith when she got back, provided something else didn't come up or finished in the meantime.
"... Hey Heinrich, didn't the Junk's Might leave port this morning?" I raised an eye under my helmet, and looked back over at Thessa, setting aside the dummy for the moment. She was looking out the window, eyes confused at what she saw, and I turned further to see wha-
… That was the Sinner's Folly. Abbendis's flagship. Casually drifting into port.
Quickly understanding the importance of the ship, I turned to Thessa and spoke. "Abbendis or Westwind is here." Her eyes widened and quickly she donned her cowl and bandana again, hiding her face from the world again as she straightened and started moving to the door, quickly catching up with me.
"What is the plan? The Lady asked us to defend the Harbor and rebuild it, but if they came…"
I grunted as the insinuation took root. "Not much we can do about that now. Hopefully we can head off any altercations and send them back before the Lady returns." The walk to the Cathedral doors was short with our haste, and soon we were marching through the hail outside to the docks, ignoring the rest of the Onslaught continuing to work around us. "If we have to fight, we'll kill them and let the Lady raise them when she returns."
Thessa nodded in response before melding into the shadows and leaving me as I kept going, off to either prepare men or take advantage of her abilities. I had no doubts things would turn bloody the moment they docked fully, but there was little I could do to change anything outside of battle.
A surge of magic washed over me as I kept going, though I did not falter in the slightest compared to days long past in Lordaeron. My lips quirked up before settling back down as the Lady returned in time, regardless of whatever was on the ship, we would prevail, though the consequences would be far-reaching.
As I turned the final corner to the docks, Onslaught working continually I slowed my pace as the Lady faced the Grand Admiral on the pier, attended to by a few guards. Even from the distance, it was easy to pick him out, he simply had that aura about him as Abbendis did and the clergymen flanking him merely confirmed it. What confused me was the lack of aggression in either of them, as the Grand Admiral seemed content compared to the usual fiery rhetoric he was known for.
Strange. But it wasn't my duty to deduce people, I left that to Thessa long ago. Since I was here, I may as well continue directing the work on the walls, the Lady and her Patron had this well in hand no doubt.
[Naxxramas, Wyrmrest Temple Blockade]
It was rare, the days I was too distracted to think of furthering my research.
Today was not one of those days, as the taxing, laborious work of two days worth of tinkering, and many weeks of unexpected commandeered planning, were about to come to fruition.
Truthfully, I did not understand how the situation had descended into its current state. The dragons had always done understandably antagonistic actions against us: shambling patrols burned to the ground, reanimation efforts dismembered just on the cusp of the bones regaining their intellect. These things were nothing new, and an attempted direct strike against a Necropolis wasn't necessarily something - while certainly rare - unexpected.
That they acted when Kel'Thuzad was remaking Patchwerk, was understandable, but still foolish. That they succeeded? That was… unprecedented. There was a reason our Necropoli could move around with impunity after all...
And now, here we were, isolating Wyrmrest Temple, the point of power that even the Lich King had not chosen to assault… out of Spite. Kel'Thuzad - great, mighty, and detached as he was - was a prideful man at his core, and the level of spite he was capable of was something few understood. The man could have been my apprentice had he been born seven years later, alas, we would not have gotten along back then.
Antonias was correct when he told me I was too focused on my research back then.
"It is unlike you Gothik to watch something like this." I didn't turn to see Kel'Thuzad as he glided to my side, keeping my eyes on the looming tower, specifically one of the lower floors where a single hint of magic could be felt. "One would think your time with the Horsemen has been an influence upon you." I gave a chuckle at that, even if I didn't peel my eyes away.
"As if. They don't bother me beyond the extremes, and I don't bother them. This agreement lets me research in peace away from the rest." Kel'Thuzad knew this, I knew he knew this. But sometimes, it paid to remember the old days in Dalaran, when both of us were still Archmages discussing the Arcane. Little talks like this between 'equals' instead of Lord and humble Researcher. "What brings you to my humble balcony?"
He looked down at the battlefield far below us, where hordes of lesser Undead swarmed across the frostbitten dunes towards the tower. Most never made it, the Dragons swooping down and blasting them into pieces in some manner of magic. The Plagued whelps had done much in showing me just how a Dragon worked, but that was for another book to fill.
This siege would be won with attrition. For every two hundred fodder that broke, a Dragon fell from the sky and was swarmed or, if it was lucky, crawled to its brethren. And for each that was swarmed, another Frost Wyrm was added to the sky. Such was the nature of the Scourge.
But that was not the long game, merely a delaying tactic.
"I merely wish to see the fruits of an old friend's research. Is that not a good enough answer, Gothik?" I shrugged, not truly invested in the conversation to begin with. Then Kel'Thuzad decided to continue, and this time fixate on something worth talking about. "Your initiative with this... ploy is uncharacteristic of you."
I chuckled again, compared to before, something this absurd would never have crossed my mind, and truly it was only because of my Apprentice that the idea came to me. Her soul… there was so much information, too much, in it just from skimming the surface. Ideas, thoughts, and pure magic the likes I would never see again, except in her. To be able read a soul like that, it nearly screamed its deafening knowledge to those that could listen. But if prodded with the right questions...The one I copied was from a tale that could have been true. Something about a horse.
All because Kel'Thuzad decided to create a Lich from an old soul. "Wraith has given me much inspiration. This is just another of them." I was on the cusp of attaining Pure Death in my hands, the whispers of knowledge I gleaned from her guaranteed seeing her one more time would certainly grant me the clarity to take the next step on this path. Perhaps when Wyrmrest was broken I could see about getting her here for some more training.
It would be a good lesson for both of us, and to see how far she had come since I'd left her two weeks ago. But, that would be then, and this was now.
"I assume that you are down here because it is ready?"
I didn't turn to look at him but I could feel his smug satisfaction. "Yes."
And with a twitch of my hand, my project met its end.
Without any warning an entire floor of the massive tower exploded, noxious clouds of the Plague rolling down the side in such amounts that others would be impressed. Wraith's memory was of a tale of some ancient myth of war. There were fortifications that the attackers couldn't breach, and so they sought a way through subterfuge, and they succeeded in doing so.
I wasn't interested in the tale itself, which was fine, as I could only draw on the echoes her soul emitted, any more clear detail and I'd need to take a steady hand to her soul… and as much as the thought tempted me for the knowledge and clarity such a thing would give, I fancied living. That said, enough seeped through to inspire me.
Two days ago, a Wyrm was brought down, Heigan and Noth had been arguing who would be getting the dragon's corpse, and who would be getting the reagents from it. Naturally, it devolved into another shouting match between the two of them. For the sake of my own research, and to get away from their prattling, I bypassed the two of them and took the Wyrm for myself. Even thirty years later, the two still acted like schoolyard apprentices.
My reasons for the Wyrm were simple, a clear decisive blow so efforts could be focused elsewhere..
I had dozens of books already written on Dragons, the Plagued Flight, and numerous dissections had shown me too much for even a Wyrm to give me anything new with such practices. So I opted to use this opportunity to advance the siege faster for the sake of more important things. To that end, I gathered as many spare plague barrels from the Necropoli as possible and worked those two days non-stop. Even if I knew much about Dragons, there was always the question of how many barrels one could insert into a creature before they died.
The answer was a respectable 27, after removing all the unnecessary organs. Like the Liver.
After that laborious process was completed, I placed the Wyrm in another Necropolis to break out of. As much as Kel'Thuzad and I were respectful of one another, trashing Naxxramas with a plan - and having the possibility of his cat die in the ensuing rush - was a sure-fire way to die again to Kel'Thuzad. Besides, no one would believe the dragon actually escaped Naxxramus, Kel'Thuzad's reputation for competency backfired on that end.
Especially since the results spoke for themselves.
As my eyes went from the descending cloud of plague to the ground below, I could see the dragonspawn retreating towards the Temple, unaware that it was only a single strike and not a single one more would occur. It was intentional, the single strike would make them wary about any other breakouts, which were far too common amongst the idiots in the other Necropoli, and it let the ground forces push forward more.
Unaware that we wanted them to fortify the temple, to focus their efforts on clearing the plague. Layers upon layers of deception, it gave me nostalgia.
Kel'Thuzad's deep chuckle didn't draw my attention away from the battlefield below, but I was listening with attention when he stopped. "Such an impressive display Gothik. If this was but one of the things Wraith gave you…" He laughed again, and I couldn't help but join in. It reminded me of days long past, when the younger man came into my workshop one day looking for Dream Dust. "Your research is progressing again then?"
I ceased my laughter, still… 'content' and nodded my head. "She gave me insight, old friend." I closed my eyes, and for but a moment I thought I caught a glimpse of something in the dark before it was gone. A sigh echoed as I opened my eyes and turned my back on the battle below. "Ten long years without a breakthrough, and along comes a soul that is so deeply rooted in it that she doesn't realize how special it is."
"Such is the way it is. For us, knowledge and power must be earned with talent and work."
I said nothing to reply to that. Of all people, Kel'Thuzad with his pride didn't realize that he no longer applies to such a thing, having been given his power and knowledge by another, the one we both served. When he returned, he offered to teach me the basics, and that was the last we had talked to one another on such subjects. Our paths were much different after all, I was but a humble researcher, and he was Lord of the Damned.
It was then the Necropoli flashed, the immense hum of magic in the air as links of raw magic bounced from Necropolis to Necropolis, creating key points to a gargantuan ritual circle. All but Naxxramas shimmered, bubbled safely away by immense magic, drawing straight from leylines.
And as the bubbles sealed themselves, the peak of the ritual was reached as a shell began to form around Wyrmrest temple, allowing nothing in, but nothing out either. No magic, no teleportation.
One that would see Wyrmrest Temple sealed, with the Aspects that hid inside trapped.
Layers upon layers, so many resources and time dedicated to soothing Kel'Thuzad's pride.
The assault was engineered to look like a trap for the Aspects, to keep them in reserve. Which in itself was a trap, for the Living Bomb to slip into the temple. Which in itself was its own trap, a distraction to draw back their forces to fortify the temple, thinking that the assault was now actually real. But all of that was a mere ruse, to draw the dragons into their temple, to hide the movements of the Necropoli, to hide the buildup of magic.
All to lock them away.
But now, to perform this ritual with his Necropolis, Naxxramas, to serve as the keystone to the whole thing. Forcing anyone that sought to stop it, to come fight him directly… . "How much longer do you suppose we will stay here Kel'Thuzad? There are more important things to do than eradicate the dragons from this land."
A normal cultist or necromancer would be a splatter against the cursed stone. Even a Death Knight would be frozen solid and shattered for speaking about such a thing to Kel'Thuzad. But, I was not one of the fodder or incompetent fools. And so it was that Kel'Thuzad actually took the question in stride and answered it. "With your ploy successful, I give two weeks before the Dragons crumble." I nodded my head and started to leave, there was still research to do, even if I had no access to the more important materials for breakthroughs. "May your experiments be fruitful, and the Eye lend you insight."
An old farewell between Archmages, well before the schism created in the wake of the expedition north. Just a reminder of better days, where I wasn't haunted by dead ends and him. "May the Eye lead you to victory, and Magic guide your path." And with that, I left my old friend to the balcony and walked with my clicking staff back to my personal workshop. He would be there, as he always was, questioning my methods, lending me a different perspective...
As much as it was cruel, the mind of the greatest Mage in centuries deserved to continue his research, and aid in other projects, where none could force him into something he hated. I was no saint, I was no paladin or priest upholding virtues. I was a humble researcher, and I had long discarded many morals, sins, and virtues in the pursuit of knowledge.
My first and oldest friend, nearly seventy years now. There was still too much for us to do…
The news had spread, Northrend was to be invaded.
Already both the Horde and Alliance had sent landing parties to set up beachfronts for the grand push to finally put an end to the abominable Scourge. Indeed, in both Orgrimmar and Stormwind the War Board has been erected once more, a call to arms posted once more to the countless adventurers.
And many had taken notice. Countless Guilds and bands of adventurers hunted, searched, and harvested on both Azeroth and beyond the Dark Portal for resources, relics, and to hone themselves with experience.
Veterans and Greenhorns alike answered the call to prepare. Some for revenge, some for exploration, some for history, and even some for pleasure.
In any other world, news from the front would have been slow to return, but this was a world of magic with many means of communication.
And so, news of the disastrous landings did reach their respective leaders.
Borean Tundra was lost, for now.
But with this news of the loss came information, what little there was, of a new threat on the continent. With explicitly no fanfare and little comment, this information was exchanged between the factions. And it was unilaterally decided that if the Lich King was to be killed, this new threat would have to be dealt with.
Plans were set.
Posters were drawn.
A Horde Grunt elbowed and shouldered his way through the constant crowd of adventurers reading the War Board before unfurling the rolled up parchment he brought with him and nailing it to the War Board with a simple dagger.
An Alliance Soldier shouted to clear the way as he made his way through the adventures around the War Board before unfurling the parchment poster he had and calmly nailing it to the board.
Adventurers crowded in, many quickly sprinting away to spread the news.
D
D E A D
'LADY WRAITH'
Considered to be EXTREMELY dangerous.
Only organized raids recommended.