Chapter Fourteen: Faceless
The passages got darker and slimier as they made their way into the darkness.
Arthas lit the way by the pale light of Frostmourne while Anub'arak walked behind him. Several lesser stones of light were held by his troops as they walked into the gloom. As they did, Arthas smelled the air. It was musty, old, and ancient.
"We have entered the Old Kingdom," said Anub'arak. "Be wary, death knight. There may be fouler things than you have ever seen in this place."
"Well, truth be told, very little will shock me at this point," said Muradin.
"There are also defenses set in place to ensure no one can unleash the horrors within," said Anub'arak.
On they walked, and they saw no sign of the defenses or the horrors within. The passages, however, took on an oozing smell. Here and there, they saw great pools of liquid in the floor, frozen to ice. Sometimes it was freezing cold. Other times, the temperature would change to be blazing hot.
Arthas had to admit, he liked this less the more he walked. No one talked though, they never talked. It felt as if he was completely alone in a crowd. Muradin himself looked a bit nervous and kept turning to check behind him with his lantern.
Soon enough, however, they came to a large room. At the center, a path led across a huge pool of low water. On either side were a series of towers that radiated with a cold light. They radiated a cold light, and just going near them froze the heart. At the far end of one wall was a circular hatch of sorts.
"Wait-the sigils on either side are rigged to fire bolts of frost. This hallway is a deathtrap," said Anub'arak.
"Can't we disable them?" asked Arthas.
Anub'arak paused. "The circular hatch in the far wall is an aqueduct plug. If we can open it, the water might flood the firing mechanisms and disable the entire trap."
"Well, that seems like a fair-" began Muradin.
And then the land began to shake.
Arthas narrowly kept his feet as small stones fell from the ceiling. Rocks trembled on the ground while the groaning of the earth was everywhere. Arthas felt... pain. Pain from a presentation he did not know but felt like he did.
Slowly the tremors died down.
"What the..." said Muradin.
"What are these tremors?" asked Arthas, feeling darkness seeping in. He could not see it, but he felt its presence; a sort of malaise was filling the air.
"I do not know," said Anub'arak. "But we should hurry. They may have awoken the faceless ones. I do not want to be down here when they begin a rampage."
"You need not tell me twice," said Muradin.
"The lever should be somewhere in the tunnels beyond," said Anub'arak.
"You mean to say that the machinery is on this side?" asked Muradin.
"These machines were not meant to keep enemies out," said Anub'arak. "They were meant to keep the faceless ones in."
"Well, I don't suppose we can put them back up after we finish?" asked Arthas.
"It would require someone to stay behind and reactivate them," said Anub'arak.
On they walked, taking a side passage. The flagstones here began to fall into disrepair. Soon they were walking on an ordinary cut cavern. Anub'arak led them quickly, turning a corner as they did. It got darker, and several more tremors hit them. Each time, Arthas felt that sensation of pain again.
And it became more familiar.
Arthas felt as if he was nearing something very bleak and dark. Yet also something else... Something he had known all his life but not known he'd known. Perhaps something that had been, or would be. It was difficult to explain.
Suddenly they came across a group of Nerubians who moved to attack. "Look, brothers! The traitor king!"
Arthas laughed and drew Frostmourne, giving them pause. "Who, me?"
"He is referring to me, death knight," said Anub'arak. "These nerubians will stop at nothing to destroy us."
"Hold where you are, lads," said Muradin, getting between them. "This ain't the time or place to be fighting between ourselves."
"Step aside, dwarf. Death to the servants of Ner'zhul!" said the nerubian.
"Drive the foul undead back to the surface!" said another.
"What do you think we're trying to do?" asked Muradin. "These ain't servants of Ner'zhul; they're working against him. When they get to the other side of this mountain, they might very well end up picking a fight with other undead.
"Do you want to lose more of your people fighting us? Or let Ner'zhul or whoever is in charge lose his people fighting us for you."
"...What do you want here, dwarf?" asked the nerubian.
"We simply want to get through the defenses without a fight. That's all," said Muradin. "We'd rather take our chances with the eldritch horrors than fight you."
The nerubians discussed it among themselves for a moment. Then they came back. "...Very well. But we shall not open them again once you have passed through.
"And we pray that you are killed horrifically by the faceless ones, Anub'arak."
"Well, that's about all we can hope for," said Muradin.
The lever was found some ways beyond, and they saw through a view gate the towers. Arthas pulled the lever, and the hatch opened and poured the water. The icy towers were quenched by it, but the bridge remained.
Now they could cross.
"Why did they have their aqueducts anyway?" asked Muradin as they walked.
"They were utilized largely at the peak of our civilization," said Anub'arak. "With them, we could operate machinery powered by water. And also provide drinking water for everyone.
"Now they are utilized for traps and falling into disrepair."
They came back to the bridge. Arthas wondered if the nerubians would murder them by deactivating the traps somehow. Then, considering that such a thing would take time, he decided they must change it.
The walk over the bridge was anticlimactic, to say the least. No one confronted them or blocked their way. That made Arthas suspicious. And the malaise grew worse alongside the tremors so that every step was a chore. He decided to make conversation.
"So, did you join Ner'zhul willingly? Or did he force you into submission?" asked Arthas.
"The latter," said Anub'arak. "I killed many enemies before I fell. But fall I did. And I rose again. All of those who I called subjects are now dead."
Then, just as they crossed the bridge, they got the worst tremor yet. A powerful will was behind it, one he could sense. As part of the wall caved in, they quickly ran along the passage. Eventually, they halted little ways on. "I sense something, a power I have not felt since..." Arthas paused, remembering his fight with Mannoroth. "Ner'zhul."
"Ner'zhul?" asked Muradin. "He's doing this? Are you sure?"
"Certain," said Arthas. "He once tried to force me into submission, so I know his mind. Yet... he's stronger now and different."
On the small party walked.
The passageway became wet and strange growths were on the walls. The air had a scent like blood in it. Yet not quite like blood, it was... disgusting. Arthas felt bile rising in his mouth as they walked. Muradin seemed to have a similar disgust-
And then, out of the darkness came things.
Faceless things armed with clubs and bones. They were huge and vaguely humanoid, with tendrils in strange places. And in a moment, Arthas was fighting for his life. He parried strikes and cleaved three down, even as Muradin hacked down two. Some of the ghouls that had come through were carving at them.
A death coil coiled another, and Anub'arak sent his spikes to consume them. In mere moments dozens of the creatures were dead. Yet there was no reaction, no change of strategy. No war cry. The monsters marched on in neverending lines without a sound being made, moving in unison.
Striking faster and faster, Arthas found himself going into a frenzy. Yet, no matter how many of them were killed, they kept on coming.
"What the hell are they?!" said Muradin, slamming the ground. The blow stunned them and sent them flinching back. A moment later, dozens of them were impaled. Others were being eaten alive by insects.
"They are the horrors I spoke of. I thought they were only legends long ago," said Anub'arak. "They are the faceless ones..."
"Well, I'm sure they won't mind me smashing something that is nonexistent," said Muradin. Then he drew out a pistol and blasted one. Sheathing it, he hurled his hammer to smash down several before it returned to him. The nerubians sent waves of their dark magic to burn the faceless ones as they came.
As they reached the line, Arthas hewed them down wherever he could. When one of his ghouls began to falter, he healed them with dark magic. Muradin was sliced across the cheek, and he healed him. Yet, no matter how many he killed, there was still a neverending tide of them. It was as though Arthas was living through Hearthglen again.
Only now, there was no town.
No living subordinates.
And no Uther to come to rescue him a third time. All they could do was fight, fight, and fight some more. As the carnage continued, he knew they'd be overwhelmed soon. "Fight free of them! Kill the ones that stand in our path and get to a more defensible position!"
"I know the way!" said Anub'arak. Then he charged and smashed through the faceless ones. They hacked and slashed through the endless tides, making their way down a side passage. Arthas hoped the nerubians had gotten the defenses up in time.
On they ran, running through the halls and caves. Here and there, they'd encounter small bunches of faceless ones and slaughter them. And all the time, they could hear the tramp of their webbed feet just behind.
"Damn it all!" said Muradin. "We can't just keep running forever, lad. We've got to make a stand!"
Arthas knew Muradin was right. These things could not be allowed onto the surface unchecked. Why had Ner'zhul released them? "Anub'arak, are there any good chokepoints we could find? Somewhere that has an exit to retreat from?"
"I know of such a place," said Anub'arak. "It is some ways due east."
Coming with them, Anub'arak came to what looked to have once been a tomb. However, the sarcophagus was empty. There were only two entrances, one narrow one they'd come in by and a side passage.
"Whose tomb was this?" asked Arthas.
"Mine," said Anub'arak.
"Here they come!" said Muradin. "Back monstrous things, you shall not pass!"
And that was when things got boring and dangerous.
The faceless ones came in unending droves to attack them through the narrow doors. As they did, Arthas and Muradin hewed them down. The ghouls devoured them as insects tore from their flesh. Anub'arak created more and more of the things, even as the faceless ones continued to come after them.
It wasn't a battle.
It was a slaughter.
Fighting undead was better; at least, they had a sense of self-preservation. They wanted something, even if it was only to feast on your flesh. But these things wanted nothing; there wasn't any personality to them. They were a simple vessel by which things killed them—a mere weapon without will.
They died and died and died.
And yet nothing phased them. It wasn't that they weren't afraid. It was that there was nothing in them to be afraid of. With his every blow, Arthas carved down the bodies and created food for the ghouls. Food for Anub'arak's insects. And he wondered if this was what it was like to cut wheat.
No.
Wheat had a spirit to it. It was still part of the land and at its most base level good. But these things were not. They had not been corrupted; they were the corruption. Like a disease, they were a mere vehicle for spreading horror with no will or desire.
Higher and higher the bodies piled, and soon the entryway was choked with them. The remaining faceless ones began to mutilate and beat the corpses in their way. Arthas killed them with Frostmourne, but they simply ignored him. Something had decided mutilating the dead was a higher priority than killing him.
And so, he staggered back, exhausted, and let Anub'arak's beetles go at them.
"They just keep on coming!" said Muradin. "How many more of these bastards are there?"
"In their previous invasion, the Faceless Ones had nearly limitless numbers," said Anub'arak. "Our usual method to fight their invasions was to trick the scourge into fighting them."
"Well, your people seem pretty good at it," said Muradin. "Can these things think?"
"Not really," said Anub'arak. "They are mere extensions of the Old Gods will. In this case, Yogg'Saron, God of Death. We are not so much fighting an army of his as trying to cut off one of his fingers."
"So all we have to do is kill him then, and we've got nothing to worry about," said Arthas, trying to stay confident.
"You say that as though it would be easy," said Muradin.
"Not much impresses me anymore, to be honest," said Arthas. "Cut off the finger, and he'll bleed and have to get medical treatment. Maybe it'll get infected, and he'll die. And even if he survives, he won't be as good with that hand.
"It could make cutting off his others easier.
"Eventually, we could kill him by a thousand cuts."
"Maybe we should focus," said Muradin. "We can't keep this up. And sooner or later, he's gonna send someone the long way round. Once he's coming at us from both passages, we'll get worn own. Anub'arak can't be in two places at once.
"I say we take our chances and get out of here while the getting is good."
"That makes sense to me," said Arthas. "Lead on, Anub'arak."
Anub'arak did lead on, and they departed by winding passages. The tiles here were darker and the rooms large. Soon, however, Arthas began to hear the sounds of magic spells being flung. He sensed power being unleashed from several places.
"Listen, do you hear that?" asked Muradin.
"Yes, it seems the nerubians are making use of the containment machines," said Anub'arak. "I have encountered these creatures before, but I haven't seen them in such numbers since..."
The ground shook. A pillar near them cracked.
"Another quake," said Arthas. "What is Ner'zhul doing? Is he really going to let the Old Gods in, simply to kill me?"
"Who says it's Ner'zhul?" asked Muradin.
"You think Kael'thas is doing this? Why?" asked Arthas.
"He seems to hate you a great deal," said Anub'arak.
"So he's going to break a hole open in the earth and let the Old Gods kill everyone?" asked Arthas.
"Eh, I think we can take 'em," said Muradin.
"That's not the point," said Arthas.
"Kind of is," said Muradin. "We've beaten a lot of unstoppable ancient evils lately. If I think we can take em, maybe Kael'thas does too."
"Perhaps he considers facing Yogg Saron preferable to facing you," said Anub'arak. "You should be flattered."
"I'll be sure to thank before I put a runeblade through his throat," said Arthas. And then he sensed a familiar sort of power. "Wait, I sense undead near here. Come, we'll see to them."
Taking a detour, he came to a crypt fiend cornered. Two nerubians had him at their mercy, but when they saw Anub'arak, they fled.
"Thank you, great one," said the spider. "The rebel spiders captured my comrades as well! They're being held in a nearby chamber. Release them, and they will be yours to command."
"Lead on, then," said Arthas.
They made their way through the halls. Often they came to places where faceless ones lay slaughtered. Now and they killed live ones.
"Why send out all these things in bite-sized chunks?" asked Muradin.
"The Old Gods wish to spread their influence," said Anub'arak. "The pulse of these flesh puppets means nothing to them. By sending out many smaller groups to die, they can determine where their enemies are."
"...Which means this place may be attacked soon," said Arthas.
Coming around a corner, they came to a great group of nerubians surrounding a blocked door. They saw Anub'arak and prepared for battle. "You... to arms!"
"Hold it there, lads! We've got faceless ones aplenty to kill!" said Muradin. "And more are coming as we speak!"
"You would stand between us and this creature, dwarf?" asked the nerubian.
"Why not?" asked Muradin. "Anub'arak is killing faceless ones, and there are a lot more of them than his soldiers."
"Then why are you here?" asked the leader.
"We heard you'd imprisoned some of his warriors," said Muradin. "We were hoping you could hand me over so we could kill these things."
"...Imprisoned is perhaps the wrong word. This was a siege," said the leader. "We kill all traitors we capture."
"Then we'll speak to them," said Muradin.
The nerubian nodded.
"You, get to your comrades and bring them here," said Arthas.
The crypt fiend entered. A moment later, they came out with a large army of crypt fiends. "King Arthas, we are yours to command!"
"Now listen to me, all of you," said Arthas. "The Old Gods seek to run rampant over this world. All of us are weakened. However, if we set aside our hatred and concentrate our forces, I believe we can stop their invasion.
"We must face and defeat their armies. Only then can the surface be saved."
No cheers, but it got the point across. Now they had a real army.
They just had to deal with the Old Gods.