Siege of Darkness
Chapter 1: The Wardens of Myrhistal
By: Duneczan
KALIMDOR, IMMEDIATELY AFTER THE DEATH OF ARCHIMONDE
On a precipice overlooking the World Tree, three figures watched the death of a great evil. The ancestral spirits of the Night Elves attacked the mighty Archimonde, using all their might to topple his bid for power. In this, they succeeded. The World Tree, once a proud symbol of life, is now a burnt hulk. While it will heal in time, the World Tree will never fully recover. As the last of the holy fires burnt out, the smallest figure turned to her companions.
"I see we have arrived too late," she said.
"Or just in time," the man on the far right countered.
"Perhaps you are both rights," the man in the center, the tallest of them all, said. "Perhaps you are both wrong. Either way, the outcome is the same: Archimonde is now dead. Our mission has both failed and succeeded."
"I do not think we have failed, my old friend," the man on the right responded. "It is merely a setback, one from which we can recover. Remember that Archimonde was not the only demon involved in the kidnapping." The tall man nodded. The woman merely shrugged. The man on the right shook his head at his companions. "We still have a job to do my friends, remember that always. There are those that need our help, and I do not just mean our brethren, I mean them." He pointed down the mountainside. Below were three encampments of warriors. Each was under siege by both demonic and undead forces. "The Orcs, Trolls, and Taruens of the Horde, the Humans, Dwarves, and Elves of the Alliance, and the Night Elves require our aid. They may be of use to us in the future." Again the tall man nodded.
"You have a point Arlan. You will go and assist the Alliance fighters." The man named Arlan bowed, tapped his long staff with its blood red gem on the ground and faded away. "Samira, the Orcs would greatly benefit from your skills at this time. Help them." The woman did not bow or shrug, nor did she make any other motion of acceptance. She merely leapt into the shadows and vanished. The man in the middle, the leader of these three warriors, took one last look at the World Tree. Speaking into the night, he summoned his horse. The black stallion trotted from the mists, seemingly appearing out of nowhere. "Come Midnight, we have some future allies to save." The horse neighed loudly, and ran off at a hellish speed towards the Night Elf encampment.
The Orc Warchief stood fighting on the ground; his wolf steed was wounded and could no longer carry his weight. The tide of the undead seemed endless, even after the death of their leader. Thrall and the other leaders had thought that once Archimonde was gone, the undead and the demons would become weakened. Now it seems that they have become stronger. Swinging his mighty warhammer, Thrall smashed in the head of a foul ghoul. It was the last of the undead footmen near him, and he took the momentary reprieve to check on his people.
He turned and looked at his camp, towards the warriors of his people, the Taurens, and the Trolls. All were fighting bravely. The Orc and Tauren warriors rushed headfirst in to the Undead, while the Troll headhunters, standing back behind the lines, threw their deadly, barbed spears at the enemy. Next to the headhunters were the shaman and the witch doctors, casting their spells in an attempt the stem the tide of battle in their favor. Over the resounding drumbeats of the kodo beasts, Thrall could hear a vicious cry near him. He then felt something trickle down onto him, sliding down his green face. He brought up his hand to wipe it off. He was surprised to see blood. Looking up, he saw that a group of wyvern were taking on two frost wyrms.
"Foul creatures; go back to the earth where you belong!" He cried. Raising his hand, send sent a deadly barrage of lightning at them. As the lightning struck, another wave of energy struck the undead wyrms. One of them fell to the ground, the necromantic energies holding its body together dissipated and the creature fell apart. A shower of bone, tendon, and ligament followed. Thrall heard yells of surprise from the warriors on the ground. He looked and held back a cry of his own.
A girl was wading through the sea of the dead. The sword in her hand, seemingly too long for her short stature, swung down upon the ghouls and skeletons mercilessly. Her hood flew back in the wind, and Thrall felt something stir within him. She was an elf and, even by Orc standards, she was beautiful. She had shoulder length black hair that shimmered blue whenever light struck it. Here eyes were violet, and they were filled with a cold fire as she slew her enemy. Her lithe body, accentuated by the black leggings and leather armor, could be seen whenever her movements forced her dark brown cape open.
Then reality struck him. Thrall shook his head vigorously, shaking the thoughts from his mind. He did not know what had come over him when he looked upon the elf. Now all he sees is a deadly warrior, an unknown element that could spell either hope or doom for his people. He looked at his defense line and saw that they too seemed to be under her spell. Thrall raised his warhammer and took in a deep breath.
"Lok Tar warriors! Bring death to the enemies of the Horde!" He yelled as loudly as his voice would allow. The warriors of the Horde, blinking and shaking their heads just as he had done moments ago, raised there weapons. With a deafening roar, they raced towards the Undead, who now focused all their attention on the newcomer. Some of the warriors seemed to distort and grow larger, and Thrall knew that the shaman were casting their bloodlust spells.
Pointing his warhammer to the ground, Thrall summoned two shadow wolves. These spirit wolves, invisible to the enemy and appearing to be faded shadows to Thrall, leaped into battle. Thrall soon joined them. As he neared the conflict, he could feel two things happen to him. He seemed to become faster and stronger, his mind was working twice as fast as it normally, he could se much clearer than before, and he could feel the magical energies within his body pulsate with new power. He knew part of it had to do with the bloodlust spell of the shamans, but he could not explain the others. Nor did he want to at the moment, for it allowed him to deal with the enemy quicker and more efficiently.
He let loose another deadly barrage of lightning, sending enemy ghouls flying. Then he saw the woman again, taking on two massive abominations by herself. She did not seem to be having much of a problem with them. Her sword sliced through the ribcage of one, the blood of its mass of sown together body parts mingling on her blade. Thrall watched as the young woman brought her fist up, and a strange, purple light emerged from it. The light struck the injured abomination, knocking it back. As it fell to the ground, just as it had happened to the frost wyrm, the abomination fell apart. She began fighting the other abomination.
Thrall could no longer take it. He must know who this person is, for she is deadlier than any enemy, or ally, he had seen before. Fighting his way towards her, he quickly found himself next to her.
"Who are you!" He screamed over the din of battle. She gave him a sidelong glance, but did not immediately respond. She decapitated the abomination before her and stepped back. She lowered her head and murmured something in a low voice. She brought her head up and her violet eyes flashed blue for an instant. The wind suddenly began to pick up, getting faster and faster. Powerful gusts of wind became torrents of wind. He could see his warriors being buffeted by the fast blowing air, but not as much as the undead were. The elfwoman raised her sword and chanted something in another language. The sword glowed white, its shining light getting brighter and brighter. As it became as luminous as the sun, the light itself seemed to be affected by the wind. The light dispersed, getting caught up in the wind and sailing through the air. Whenever particles of light struck his warriors, they seemed to heal and become refreshed. Whenever the light would hit the undead, it seemed as it they had been struck by a heavy blow. The ghouls, the lowliest form of life the undead have to offer, were being ripped to shreds by the tempest. The wind began to die down, and it soon stopped. What undead were left were so wounded that they fell quickly to the spears of the trolls.
The elfwoman, seemingly drained from the attack, swayed on her feet. She pulled something from the pouch on her belt and put it in her mouth. Her outward appearance changed as she chewed this mysterious item. Thrall and his warriors stared at the newcomer, some with looks of gratitude on their faces. Other, more veteran warriors looked suspiciously at her. Giving the woman enough time to recover, Thrall asked his question again.
"Who are you?" This time she did look at him. The fire in her eyes dimmed and went away.
"My name is Samira Starbender," she said, her voice soft and quiet. "And I am here to help, in case you have not already noticed."
"I did, and I thank you for it. Yet...why did you help us, when your own people are in danger elsewhere?"
"My people?"
"The Elves. They fight for their lives not too far from here."
"I...am not of the Elves you know. My people, much like your own, do not come from this world." Her head suddenly spun to the side, and she looked off into the horizon. Thrall noticed she was staring in the direction of the Night Elf base protecting the World Tree. "He needs my help." She looked back at Thrall, and the he saw that the fire had returned to her eyes. "Thrall, son of Durotan, chieftain of the Frostwolf Clan, Warchief of the Horde, do you wish to know the truth? Do you wish to know why the demons and their minions are still fighting?"
"Yes."
"Then gather a group of your best warriors and come with me to the World Tree. Hurry, we must make haste."
"But-" A firm hand grasped his shoulder. He turn to see the bearded, bovine face of Cairne Bloodhoof.
"Go Thrall. These questions must be answered."
"But my people-"
"Your people need you, yes. They also need you to do the best you can to help them survive. To do so, you must have your questions answered. I will stay here, in case the undead return."
"Very well Cairne." He looked to his people, his warriors. "Who will go with me, into the unknown to fight the demons and answer our questions?" A dozen warriors came forth. Grunts, mounted wolf raiders, and a single shaman strode forward. Another form stepped forward. It was a blademaster. He saw that they were members of the Warsong Clan, survivors of the devastating pact made with the pit lord Mannoroth. Nodding in satisfaction, Thrall turned back to the elf. "You have me and my warriors in your care, madam."
"Gather around me then."
"I thought you said we must hurry? The Night Elves and the World Tree are far from here. It will take some time on foot to get there."
"We do not travel by normal means," she said as she pulled a scroll from her belt.
Just as the mysterious Samira Starbender began aiding the Horde in their fight against the Scourge, the Humans, Dwarves, and Elves of the Alliance found themselves taking the brunt of a demonic assault. Archimondes three remaining generals, Azgalor the Pit Lord, Winterchill the Lich, and Anetheron the Dreadlord, led their forces in a vicious attack on the Alliance. Felhounds and the demons of the Doom Guard appeared from red portals, while wave after wave of infernals fell from the sky.
Knights and footmen fought valiantly against the onslaught. Elven priests and sorceresses stood back and aided the Humans with their powerful spells. Dwarven riflemen and mortar teams launched deadly barrages of explosives and metal pellets towards the demons. In the air, gyrocopters and gryphons, flown by brave Dwarves, aided their ground-based comrades whenever possible, for winged demons would appear from the portals at regular intervals. It was not a battle that was going well.
Lady Jaina Proudmoore, leader of the Alliance remnants, now regretted only bringing a fraction of her forces along. She had chosen the best warriors from Gilneas, Stromgarde, Azeroth, and Lordaeron, as well as many of the survivors of Khaz Modan and Dalaran, to join her in the final battle. Some of her fellow archmages rode into battle astride their unicorns, bringing much needed support to the fighters. Many of the Paladins of the Silver Hand were off fighting elsewhere, and the Dwarven thanes had been entrusted with the protection of the refugees.
Anger coursed through Jaina as she saw two Doom Gaurdsmen double-team a lone priest. She let loose her fury in the form of a blizzard, pounding down upon the demons, wreaking havoc. She ran towards the badly injured priest, summoning a pair of elementals to help protect her and her charge. She picked up the Elf and carried him towards the barracks, where a number of priests had set up a makeshift hospital. Voicing their thanks in the typical elven fashion, a mere nod of the head and a simple 'thank you', the priests rushed their brother into the barracks.
A voice called to her. She turned to see a mage and a knight, both horseless, running towards her. The knights' armor was clanging loudly as he approached.
"My lady," the mage said, "you must flee. The demons grow stronger as we grow tired."
"He is correct madam," the knight replied, "It is no longer safe for you here."
"And where would you suggest I run to, sir knight? No amount of running can help one hide from these fiends, for they can sniff out even the faintest of trails. No, I made a promise to the Night Elves and the Orcs that I would stay and fight, and I am resolute in my decision."
"Madam, please be reasonable. If you perish, then who will lead the people?" The mage asked.
"If you perish who will protect the people? Either way, we lose and the Burning Legion wins. I will stay, no matter the cost." Both the mage and the knight looked downcast. They had feared that Jaina would refuse to leave, but they thought they could convince her. They see now that there is much of her father in her. They turned back to the fight, only to stop short in surprise.
"What is going on over there?" Roused by the tone of the knights' voice, Jaina turned to look as well.
"My word!" She said in shock. Three infernals were attacking their fellow demons. Someone laughed behind them, and Jaina turned to see what new evil had come forth. What she saw were the priests staring up. Following their gaze, she took a step back when she saw a man sitting on the barracks roof. His mouth was open in a full laugh, but there was no malevolence, no evil glee in his expression. It was far more jovial. The man saw them staring, so he picked up his staff and jump from the roof. His cape fluttered as he fell, but he spoke a word of magic and his fall slowed to a glide. He touched the ground softly, and looked at the trio. His face broadened into a smile.
"You should see the looks on your faces," he said with a laugh. "It surprises me how often my golems affect people."
"Golems?" Jaina asked. "Those are golems? They seem to be more akin to the infernals than golems."
"Oh, do not worry my dear, they are golems. The gods, to watch over the many hells they control, created the doom golems. Actually, the infernals of the Burning Legion are but mockeries of the doom golems, and bad ones at that. They have neither the strength nor the intelligence of their originals." The knight moved in front of Jaina, as did the mage. The knight pulled his sword from its sheath, and the mage raised his hand and began chanting a spell.
"Who are you, master of demons!" The knight bellowed.
"'Master of demons'? Oh sir knight, you wound me. I came here to help you, but if this is all the thanks I get, then I can just as easily unsummon the golems as I summoned them." Jaina stepped forward, and laid her hands on her would-be protectors' arms.
"There is no need for this," she said to them. Her gaze went to the man before her. "You must forgive these men, my lord, for they are very...protective of me." The man smirked an nodded.
"A beauty such as yourself is indeed worth protecting, and I can understand their passion for it." The knights' face began to twist in silent fury. "Allow me to introduce myself, Lady Proudmoore. I am Lord Arlan Vermel, a Half-Elven rune wizard, and I am at your service." Arlan bowed, took her hand in his and kissed it. The knight couldn't take it anymore.
"How dare you!" He yelled.
"Peace knight," Arlan said, standing straight and raising his hands. "We have little time left to waste quarreling. My golems are strong, yes, but they are not strong enough to stand up against such a force for much longer. Already I can feel the energy draining from their earthly bodies. They return to their realm soon." He lifted up his staff and ran past them. Without hesitation, Jaina ran after him. The knight looked to the mage, but the older man merely shook his head and sighed. He joined the other two. Cursing, the knight ran after them.
Arlan reached the battle just as his golems disappeared. The Dreadlord Anetherons body lay on the ground. There was no life in it, for now. He was pleased that his golems had been able to defeat such a high level demon. He pulled his sword from the sheath at his side, and began using both it and his staff against the enemy. He would club a Doom Guard, only to slice at it in his next attack. It proved to be a effective tactic. The Alliance fighters, urged on by the appearance of both Jaina and Arlan on the battlefield, fought back harder than before.
They did well until the massive form of Azgalor strode into the fray. The mighty pit lord summoned earthquakes to do his bidding. The earth continued to shake as Azgalor stomped on the ground. A pit opened in the ground, and a group of footmen were unlucky enough to fall into it. Two sorceresses were sliced in half by the pit lords' twin bladed staff as he swung the weapon in his beefy arms. Arlan decided to take out the demon personally. He spoke a few words in the arcane language of magic, and the blood red gem on his staff glowed brightly. A fiery tornado surged from the gem and surrounded the pit lord. Just as it had done to another pit lord not so long ago, the fire tornado melted the demons flesh, and turned him to ash. This time, however, the tornado continued to spin after the pit lord fell. It crashed into the demon army, burning some, incinerating others. Cries could be heard overhead as the gryphon riders herded the winged demons into the deadly funnel.
Arlan saw that the demon horde had been nearly defeated in total. Tapping his staff on the ground once, he summoned another doom golem. It's fiery visage looked down upon him.
"Go on, have fun." The doom golem ran headlong into battle. Suddenly, something struck Arlan in the back. He fell to the ground in pain. Rolling over, he saw a lich floating before him. Its mouth glowed and its jaws opened as it began to speak.
"You...are powerful little creature. To have defeated a demon such as Azgalor is indeed a great triumph." Flinching a little, Arlan slowly stood back up, using his staff for support.
"It's.... Something that...you...wanted...to do. Am I right?" If the lich could have smiled, it would have.
"It is indeed. How did you know?"
"I know that your master is none too thrilled with Archimonde or his lackeys. I also know that Ner'zhul is doing his best to release himself from Kil'jaedens control."
"I see. Now, how should we end this?"
"At the moment, I have no real quarrel with you. If you leave now, I will not harm you. However, if you stay, I will kill you, just because you hit me in the back."
"Very well Half-Elf, I will leave and spare you your life. When we meet again, one of us will not be so fortunate." The lich vanished in green light as he cast a teleportation spell. Having recovered slightly, Arlan straightened. He turned to see Jaina staring at him.
"What was that all about?"
"Believe it or not, but there is a schism in the ranks of the Legion. The Lich King no longer wishes to be chained to the Burning Legion. He wants to rule over everything with his Scourge."
"So why allow the lich to live...in a manner of speaking?"
"Because, the Legion and the Scourge may come to blows. As long as the Scourge have strong leaders, they will last longer. And because of that, the Legion will become distracted, for fighting a war on multiple fronts is very dangerous. That makes our job easier."
"And what is this job you speak of?" Arlan looked off into the distance.
"There is little time to tell you about it. My friend is in danger and I must go to his aid. You can come along if you wish."
"I do not know..."
"Many of your questions can be answered if you come with me. Bring along some of your troops if you wish. Besides, we will need to go quickly, and you will have to help me with that."
"Why?"
"I do not have a teleportation spell ready, and my other friend Samira has the scroll with her. You and your fellow archmages are able to cast such spells without the necessary procedures."
"I see." Jaina held out her hand. "Take it, if it is indeed a time of haste, then I will not waste it gathering forces. Just tell me where I need to go."
"The Night Elf base. If you can sense it, you will feel the presence of an ancient power. Focus on that." Jaina closed her eyes. Her mind wandered the realm, searching for this power Arlan spoke of. Her scrying passed over her base, and she sensed the immense powers of the archmages, the healing essences of the Elves, and the arcane magicks that imbued the Dwarven weapons. She continued on passed the Orc encampment, and her mind was filled with deep, powerful elemental magicks. There was also the faint scent of demonic power, a holdover from the time when the Orcs were slaves to the Legion. Finally, she reached the Night Elves, and found their power flooding into her mind. Their deep love for the planet, and the planets love for them, emanated in waves from them. She felt elemental magicks far greater than that of the Orcs. She sensed the demonic presence there as well, and not just from the demon hunters that take command of those powers. The Night Elves were being overrun, and she could feel it. Finally, she reached the one Arlan had spoken of. The arcane energies radiating from him sent a jolt through her body. She became cold, and began to shiver. She could sense the power was born of the light, but there was a darkness to it, a preternatural presence that was not of this world. Her eyes flew open and she stared at Arlan.
"I...I could feel him. There is something about him that...I do not know how to describe it."
"He has that affect on people, even his close friends such as myself." He touched her hand lightly before gripping it. "I am ready if you are my lady." She looked at him with wide eyes, but she quickly recovered. Closing her eyes to slits, she reached into her soul and grasped onto the magicks that flow through her body. The two of them were engulfed in blue light, and then they were gone.
While the Horde and the Alliance fought against the undead and the demons individually, the Night Elves found themselves facing a combined force. The mystical gates leading to the World Tree are broken, the defenders weak from Archimondes assault. Archimondes followers decided to make this a final attack. Led by the Dreadlord Caltheras, this massive force swept into the Night Elf base. Fortunately for the Kaldorei, the denizens of the forest came to their aid. Mighty furbolgs and owlbears clashed with the demons, while the wily and sadistic trolls launched their attacks from afar. Wolves fought felhounds with tooth and claw.
Thanks to the assistance of the forest creatures, the Night Elves were able to recover. Soon their spells and enchanted weapons were joining in on the fight. Druids of the Claw, transforming themselves into massive, powerful bears, aided the wolves against the felhounds. Druids of the Talon joined the hyppogryph riders in attacking the frost wyrms, gargoyles, and the winged demons. Dark shapes began to fill the sky as mighty Chimaeras came to the aid of the Night Elves. Their powerful lightning breath struck the undead with devastating affect. All seemed to be going well until more portals were seen throughout the land. A large raven flew towards the center of the base, where the leaders of the Night Elves, Priestess of the Moon Tyrande Whisperwind and the Archdruid Furion Stormrage were planning a counteroffensive. The raven landed, and transformed into the form of a druid.
"Priestess Tyrande, Lord Stormrage, I bring grievous news."
"Speak Darasen," Furion said.
"More dark portals are sprouting up everywhere. From these portals new evil emerge. They are demons unlike those we have seen before. There are also massive abominable creatures that tower over the battlefield, striking down our people with little effort. They wreak of dragon blood, yet they are not dragons."
"Thank you for the report Darasen. Return to the field, please. You are my eyes and my ears."
"Yes, Lord Stormrage." The druid shifted into his raven form and flew back south. Furion turned to Tyrande, his beloved.
"Something seems to be stirring the demons on, and they, in turn, are forcing the undead to go forward. Perhaps it truly is the end for us."
"Do not think such things my love. We will show these new demons that the Night Elves will never give up." Tyrande turned to the archer standing behind her. "Shandris, gather my guard. We go to hunt demons."
"Yes priestess," Shandris replied. She ran off into the forest to find the archers and huntresses of the temple guard. She returned a few moments later, with two dozen warriors in tow.
"Will you come with us?" Tyrande asked Furion.
"Yes, but first I must see to something. Be careful beloved."
"I will my love." She and her guard ran towards the southern defense line. Furion turned and headed into the shadowed forests. There he found four figures waiting. Their eyes were covered by black cloth. In their hands were large twin-blades. They were demon hunters, outcast Night Elves that practice demonic magicks. And they were some of the few warriors capable of defeating the Legion.
"You and your brethren have been outcasts too long. The resurgence of the Burning Legion shows that your sacrifices and choices were indeed justified. I ask you to know help us, your people, in defeating the demons."
"We are blind, Master Stormrage," the leader of the hunters said. His voice was low and deep. "Not deaf. We can hear the sounds of battle, the screams of the dying. We can sense the presence of the demons as clearly as you can see the sun and the stars. You needed only ask us to return, and you have done so." The leader turned to his fellow hunters. "Come brothers, our people need us once more!" The three other demon hunters raised their blades in the air. They ran out into the sunlight and ran the same path Tyrande had. Picking up his staff, Furion followed after them.
As Tyrande and her escort neared the battle, she saw the creature that Darasen spoke of. Nine feet tall, and covered in dark red scales, the monster was a fearsome fight. The creature picked up one of the owlbears like it was nothing and ripped it in half. The poor creatures scream was terrible, and its blood flew everywhere. A swarm of arrows, glaives, and spears flew towards the creature. They imbedded themselves into its flesh, but it seemed unaffected. Nonetheless, it responded to the attack. Ripping a tree from the ground, the creature began using the tree as a weapon. Archers and huntresses began flying through the air as they were struck. Other trees suddenly came to life as an army of treants appeared on the battlefield. A soothing shower that seemed to heal Tyrande's tired body began to fall. Looking to the side, she saw a group of Keepers of the Grove, as well as Furion, standing over the battlefield and casting their spells. She could see a group of her fellow priestesses attacking the monster from afar, aiding treants and the remaining archers.
A dark shadow flew past her. Then another, and another, and another. Her eyes followed the shadows, and focused on the four demon hunters. So that is what Furion was doing. Summoning aid from the outcasts. I hope he knows what he is doing.
"Come sisters, let us not allow our people fall before this beast!" She cried. She reigned her tiger forward and lurched into battle. Her accuracy was deadly, as she fired her bow at the lesser creatures surrounding the large one. With them gone, there will be nothing left to harass her people and prevent them from bringing their full might against the monster.
Just as she let lose with another arrow, Tyrande was struck by the tree-club. She fell from her steed, whose neck had been broken in the attack. She slowly stood up and came face-to-knee with the monster. Only, it was another one just like the first. It raised its club to deal the deathblow, but it was stopped when a barrage of lightning struck it. A glaive flashed before Tyrande, and it sliced into the monsters' scales, wounding it deeply. A strong hand helped her up from the ground.
"You should be more careful. Dracoids may not be very smart, but what they lack in intelligence, they make up for in brute strength. They are also very silent despite their size," a deep voice said. The hand helping her up belonged to a man with shoulder length black hair and steel gray eyes. His face was a stoic mask, showing no emotion at all. His black armor shone in the sun, and the black cloaked seemed to engulf him when the wind blew. He stretched out his hand and let lose another barrage of lightning. The dracoid roared in pain and lurched towards the man. It was stopped by a large black demon that glowed with an ethereal light. It was the leader of the demon hunters in demon form. He slashed at the dracoid with his claws, and fired blasts of chaotic energy at the monster. The dracoid fell before the onslaught quickly. The second dracoid did not last much longer. The demon hunter returned to his Elven form, saluted both Tyrande and the newcomer, and ran off to continue the fight elsewhere. Furion came up behind them both.
"My love, are you alright?" He asked.
"Yes Furion, I am fine. This man, whoever he is, saved my life."
"I thank you stranger. If you had not intervened..."
"There is no need for thanks druid, I did what I did out of necessity. Also, I have no love of the dracoids."
"Even though you share the same heritage?" Tyrande looked from Furion to her savior, then back to Furion. The man just nodded.
Leave it to a druid to sense what I am. Yes, it is true that dragon blood flows through both my veins and its, but I am not evil. My people are mortal enemies of the dracoids."
"And your people are?"
"Daedra, born of dragons and mortals such as Elves and Humans. Dracoids are the same as we are, only they are the spawn of evil dragons and their human minions. Unfortunately, Daedra are born out of love and Dracoids are born out of darker schemes. They are far more numerous than we are." Before the man could say anymore, the ground erupted in an explosion that sent the trio flying. Tyrande and Furion struck a pair of trees. Bands of black energy formed around them, tying them to the trees. Tyrande tried to move, but she screamed in pain as the bands began crushing her. Her screams continued to rise in pitch as the bands continued their attack. Furions deeper howls quickly joined her.
"Do not move!" The man yelled from where he was. "If you move they will squeeze you until there is no life left within you!" Tyrande's screams ceased as she fell into unconsciousness. Furion stopped struggling, and the bands loosened a little. He remained conscious, but he was badly injured. The man stood up, only to be lifted off the ground by an invisible force. Their attacker then appeared before them. He had huge black wings, and long horns on a bald head. His teeth were sharp like a vampires, and his black soulless eyes stared at his prey.
"So you are the great Keirn Hallyn. I had expected more from you." The dreadlord said.
"And you, Caltheras, are supposed to be dead. Samira killed you in Quel'Thalas."
"Oh...that little witch merely granted me access to a more sinister power. When I see her, I will have to thank her."
"Then do so!" A voice said. A yellow arc of energy struck the dreadlord in his chest. The blow was enough to kill his concentration, allowing Keirn, Tyrande, and Furion to go free. The unconscious priestess fell to the ground, but a pair of green hands picked her up. And Orc stood with her in his arms. It was Thrall. Samira landed next to Keirn, and helped him stand up. She glared at the dreadlord with great malice. "When I kill my enemy, I expect them to stay dead." The weakened Keirn looked to his friend.
"Samira, he is no longer a normal dreadlord. Whenever a demon is killed by one of the Runeblades of Kelandair, their energies are dispersed and unable to be resurrected."
"I know, and I am certain I plunged my blade into his foul flesh." Caltheras let out a guttural laugh.
"Oh, you did my dear, you did indeed. But my new master has given me new life in my old form. My kindred will soon be far stronger than they are now." He raised his clawed hands and the earth began to shake. Pillars of fire erupted from the earth, spilling lava to the ground. Keirn and Samira jumped away in enough time to miss being struck by the lava.
"Hellfire..." Keirn muttered. He was beginning to understand what was going on. One look at Samira's face and he knew that she was too.
"With these new powers, my people will become immortal!" Caltheras began laughing insanely. He was rejoicing in his victory. His victory, however, was to be short lived. Sheets of ice began falling into the hellfire, putting out the deadly flames.
"Let us test this theory of immortality shall we?" A jet of flame slammed into Caltheras. Again he fell back, but still stood. He turned his gaze to the one who just attacked him. Materializing before him were Arlan and Jaina. The sorceress called forth another blizzard, and summon water elementals to her side. Arlan tapped his staff on the ground three times, and three doom golems emerged from the ground. Keirn stepped forward, his eyes crackling with energy. Samira stood next to him, her sword in one hand, and a glaive in the other. Thrall laid Tyrande on the ground, next to his warriors, then stepped forward raising his warhammer. Furion summoned a quartet of treants to aid him.
Caltheras suddenly found himself surrounded. Sneering at his enemies, he attacked. Wave after wave of red lightning erupted from his body. It was an erratic attack with no actual target. It was merely a distraction, a distraction that worked. As the light died down, they saw that the dreadlord was gone. As were the demons and the undead that were attacking the Night Elves. There were even no remains left of the dead. It was as if the attack did not happen. Furion raised his staff and summoned a healing rain shower. He walked over to, and knelt before Tyrande. She awoke as the rain hit her.
"Furion...what happened?"
"I do not know. They are gone though, the demons and their minions. All gone."
"Then, we have won?"
"No, you have won nothing but a reprieve. They will return, and next time we will be more prepared to face them."
"Who are you people?" Thrall asked. The gazes of Furion, Tyrande, Jaina, and all the allied fighters around them looked to Keirn, Samira, and Arlan. The battle scarred trio looked to each other. Arlan and Samira both nodded.
"We are Wardens of a world far from your own, a world called Myrhistal. We have come in search of our comrades who were taken form us by the demon god Lorche" Arlan said.
"Our goal here is to return out friends, our loved ones, to our world," Samira continued.
"At least, that was our original goal. Caltheras has just proven to me that Lorche is now aiding the Legion in their fight. Only he is able to bring such power to the dreadlords. Now, we must help you fight him as well as find our fellow Wardens. It is our duty," Keirn finished.
"But why would this Lorche come here?" Jaina asked. Keirn fixed his eyes upon Furion and Tyrande.
"You two lived back in the time when Azeroth was but one continent, back when the Night Elves still practiced supernatural magic. Do you remember what happened?"
"Yes," Furion answered. "Our queen fell into darkness. She was seduced by the power of the Well, seduced by demonic powers. Had she and her court been successful, Sargeras, lord of the Burning Legion, would now rule this world. What does this have to do with the one you call Lorche?"
"Lorche was one of the creators of our world. He and the other three High Gods of our world were of the Titans, a race of beings that are like gods. The Titans helped to bring order to this world, and our gods were a part of that ordering. Lorche coveted power, and he knew how to get it. He convinced three of his fellow Titans- Wotan, Rixan, and Nishala- that they should create a world of their own. That world became ours. Eventually Lorche's plans became known to the others, and a war began. After eons of fighting, Lorche was finally banished from our world, our realm. So he and his hordes of followers, both demonic and mortal, fled to another world. I am not surprised he chose this one."
"And why is that?"
"Because Lorche is Sargeras' brother. His older brother."