Somewhere in the Eastern Kingdoms, 20 years after the opening of the Dark Portal...
The attack came again in the same manner as it always had since the supposed end of the last war, a sentiment that was not felt by many gathered here. Along the beaches of The Sound, not far from the fortified coastal settlement of Bridgeport, explosions blossomed upon the beaches, sending up clouds of dirt and sand was launched which rained back down upon the earth as cannonballs fired from the decks of Ogre Juggernauts attempted to bombard the defenses of The Alliance. Fires raged among the warships of the Horde's fleet as burning pitch covered stones were launched from Catapults while others were splintered apart by Ballista bolts or by high explosive death from a new type of weapon called a Mortar.
The shores Tiragarde Sound were choked with green corpses both new and old as more than few rose shuffling back to unlife for dark sorceries were employed by the enemy. Transport ships using either old Troll or newer Goblin designs had reached the beaches and were unloading large groups of Orcs, Trolls, Ogres and Goblins while Destroyer or Frigate ships gave them covering fire. Upon the opposite end of where The Horde landed was the fearsome array of Alliance siege weapons which reaped a deadly toll upon the invading ships while flesh and blood ground troops readied themselves for battle.
Human Footmen wearing the green anchor tabards of Kul Tiras had spread out into a loose formation to avoid being caught in explosions by enemy artillery or spells that could maim or kill entire groups if they were closely packed together. Their swords were drawn and shields readied to be raised in response to enemy ranged weapons as mounted Knights and Paladins tightly held the reins of their steeds. Assorted ranged units and spellcasters took up position behind the melee troops from Human Crossbow Archers to Mages, Hydromancers, Conjurers, Clerics, Dwarf Riflemen, High Elf Rangers, Priests and Sorceresses.
Among them was a black bearded Dwarf named Krommador who wore a green cloak and a set of dragonhide leather armor while in hands he carried a well maintained long rifle. His green eye were narrowed in disdain as he watched the enemy disembark from their ships. Once in what seemed like a lifetime ago, he had been a Cannoneer serving aboard Alliance ships and teaching both Men and Elves how to properly make use of black powder weaponry.
Since the Fall of Lordaeron, he had been stranded here in the northern realms of the Eastern Kingdoms, unable to return to Dun Morogh where it was only through the occasional airborne courier did he and every other Dwarf and Gnome know that both Ironforge and Gnomeragan still stood. He knew that there were still scattered holdouts around the north and that the Wildhammer Clan still dominated the Highlands but the Hinterlands had been lost to them for years. Of the rest of Khaz Modan, it boiled his blood to know that the Orcs and their allies now squatted in the halls of places like his beloved Thelsamar, Dun Modr and Grim Batol where the workshops that once produced fine Dwarvish crafts had been turned into places of crude industry geared only for death and war.
Hatred mixed with contempt was all the Dwarf felt upon once more seeing the creatures he has been fighting for more than fifteen years now but he allowed himself a hint of satisfaction as mortar shells launched by fellow Dwarves detonated upon the landing parties which sent body parts flying. A charge filled the air as the magicians wove their spells and bound the elements into a furious storm of frost and fire while the Paladins prayed to the light and caused explosions of holy energy to detonate among the undead which reduced the walking corpses into piles of ash. The death toll The Alliance inflicted upon the invaders was a small act of retribution but one that would hardly compare to the wholesale genocidal slaughter which the savages had visited upon the peoples of the Eastern Kingdoms.
A great many of Horde transport ships could still be seen on their way upon the sea and it would have been impossible for the Alliance troops to sink all of them or for their magicians to lay down devastating elemental rain spells which left the task of thinning out the enemy numbers for the mundane ranged troops. High Elf Sorceresses and Human Clerics wove spells of invisibility for the cloaked Dwarf Riflemen and Elf Rangers who then went forward upon the orders of their current commander, the Archmage Garenion who sat atop a chestnut brown destrier. Keeping close to the other spellcasters, the Archmage was surrounded by a mystical aura of arcane energies which was said to replenish the spiritual energies which all magicians relied upon.
Dressed not in the green colors of Kul Tiras but the blue of the fallen kingdom of Azeroth which was proclaimed by its current king, Varian Wrynn to be renamed as Stormwind, the Archmage was said to be one of the few original Conjurers who had survived since the First War. Words of power had been spoken by the old human wizard who wore a pointy blue hat and the air around him shimmered with heat as he brought down a rain of fire upon the foe. As the magical barrage continued the subtler spells were cast and its effects were instantaneous to the Dwarf.
To the eyes of Krommador, his kin along with the Elf Rangers took on an ethereal quality as they moved ahead between the loose ranks of Human soldiers and over the sharpened wooden stakes that had been buried into the ground. The volley of enemy cannon fire had significantly lessened now as the Juggernauts which were outranged by the land based siege weapons had been targeted first and the smaller ships possessed lighter cannons with significantly shorter range. Nervously keeping his eyes to the sky, Krommador was more concerned now about the presence of any Eyes of Kilrogg which could give away their positions or more worryingly, the Red Dragons.
Despite knowing that their force had Gryphon Riders along with the newer types of combat capable Flying Machines, the idea of having a wyrm fly over them and unleashing fire was enough to almost give him pause. In the distance he could see the enemy forces advancing to their lines in a loose formation as well for they too were aware of the dangers posed by artillery or by magic. To his left, a cloaked Elf whose face was painted green lifted up his Longbow and in a quick, smooth motion, drew an arrow from his quiver and fired a shot which revealed his form along with those of many other Rangers.
Greenskinned Forest Troll Berserkers were the first to feel the fury of their old enemies with some immediately being killed by concentrated fire for merely wounding one of the alchemically altered Trolls would have been pointless since they could regenerate from all but the most grievous of wounds. Already the Rangers had turned around to move out of axe throwing range for it was known to all that the Amani made use of a type of light throwing axe which could match a longbow in range and power. Some of the Forest Trolls indeed had attempted to hurl their axes but the Elves were quick to get out of range with the thrown projectiles harmlessly landing upon the sands.
Krommador then came within range of the foe as axes flew over his head and he raised his gun up so he could look down the barrel with one eye closed. Among the foes he picked out a black robed Orc carrying around a staff and shield, one of their newer Warlocks he recognized. Knowing well the damage they could cause with their poison gas cloud spells or the summoning of mighty demons, the Dwarf singled out this target and he pulled the trigger.
Within a second, the piece of flint struck the iron of his gun which sent sparks into the pan that held the black powder, igniting it and causing an explosion that sent out the bullet with an explosive force. In the next second the bullet travelled the distance across yards and it struck the Orc magician in the neck which tore a bloody hole through it. Krommador had become visible to the enemy the moment the bullet had exited the barrel with a crack of smoke and fire where like the Elves he turned around and was already running back to their lines.
Dozens of others cracks rang out as the Dwarf Riflemen had fired their guns towards various targets and already they were being given covering fire by the longbow armed Elf Rangers. Axes and spears were hurled in response by The Horde with the former finding their marks upon the backs of more than few Dwarves. Thankfully though, the Dragonhide armor which they wore provided effective protection from the projectiles while the natural toughness of a Dwarf allowed them to keep on going as long as they had not been struck in any vital points.
And so began the second stage of this battle where skirmisher troops would engage each other from afar. They would trade fire while magicians worked their spells. Ogres along with wolf mounted Orc Raiders attempted to use their speed to run down the Riflemen and Rangers but Elf Sorceresses along with Human Mages were quick to counter these ones with spells of Slowing or by outright transforming them into sheep. Artillery fire would continue to rain down upon the ships as the magic of the casters were turned upon the approaching Horde forces.
Soon the true killing would begin once the time came blades to clash.
Kalimdor, Azshara IC 2532
Soaring through the skies of this world, Tlahtuaka exhilarated in the thrill of speed as he held the gilded collar of a Terradon while in his right hand he held his blowpipe. Leading the squadrons of Terradons and Ripperdactyls into battle, he saw under the light of day the settlement he had observed during the previous night. The approach of the Lizardmen had been noticed as horns were being blown and alarms were raised but this mattered little for the combined legions of the Ghosts of Pahuax and the Spirits of the Jungle had descended upon them.
From below, he could see large numbers of Man-Spawn thralls being thrown at the Greenskins much like how the Skaven used their own slaves while Saurus Warriors herded them into battle. Looking to his Braves, the Skink Chief gave out a series of loud chirping hisses which was a command for the Terradons to attack first and he dived down with the others following after him. Their targets were the defense towers where enemy archers fired upon the thralls and the Skink Chief began clicking orders while using his blowpipe to point towards the different structures.
Under his command, the Terradons then began to spread out and once they reached the right angle from which their mounts could drop the stones they were carrying, they did so in unison. Large boulders were soon sent crashing down into the huts on top of the wooden legs and crushing some of them into splinter. Those towers that still stood were then targeted by the Ripperdactyls whose Skink Riders goaded them to attack the archers upon the platforms while the Terradons flew back up to regroup.
Assorted throwing weapons were then hurled up towards them with many finding their marks upon the bodies of the flying beasts. Quickly giving orders to pull back, the Terradons were quick to disengage before a second volley was launched but for the Ripperdactyls were not so fortunate as they had been busy tearing apart the huts. Axes and Spears struck the exposed backs of the aerial beasts with two Skink riders being immediately killed which drove their mounts into a wild frenzy.
Hissing with displeasure, Tlahtuaka ordered for the Terradons to regroup and they quickly did so. Soon they were diving back down upon their enemy where he a mix of green bodies along with blue ones. Hurling poison tipped javelins and Fireleech Bolas, the Terradon Riders were then able to snatch some of the enemies off of the ground while Tlahtuaka fired a poisoned dart which struck a red haired blue skinned creature which had a javelin raised and ready to throw.
The talons of his Terradon had dug into the flesh of his target and in the next moment they were flying back up. Incomprehensible shouting was then heard by the Skink Chief as his mount rapidly took them upwards and the Terradon released it grip to allow the blue skinned thing to plummet to its death. Looking down again, Tlahtuaka saw the shore where this land met the waters and how several Kroxigors along with fellow Skinks were emerging to attack the settlement.
Pleased to know that he had done his part, Tlahtuaka called for the wounded aerial units to return to camp and they obeyed without question while those who were still unscathed regrouped and prepared for another attack. Mystical lights were then seen surrounding some of the creatures below and the Skink Chief instinctively knew these were spellcasters. Ordering for another attack, the flock of aerial beasts dived down upon the enemy once more.
Lustria, 20 years after the opening of the Dark Portal.
Stunned silence filled Arren and his pirate band as he looked towards the distant form of the bandaged wrapped, golden masked thing which sat on a floating platform for he was certain that it had spoken into his very mind.
'D-did you all hear that?' nervously asked Gelgash.
'Yeah... I think we all did' replied Meshaf.
The golden masked creature seemed to be in a conversation with the ivory masked undead woman while the big white lizard protectively stood close to it along with the polearm carrying ones. The other lizard creature, the one with the red crest and carrying a stone tablet then began to make sibilant growling noises to the undead woman and it then looked to them. The eyes of the reptiles then turned towards the pirates and they began to approach them which caused Arren to reach for his swords.
Do not raise your arms, Spawn of the Pantheon then commanded the voice in their heads. I am Lord Kroak and I seek knowledge of that which threatens us all.
Keeping his hands away from his swords, Arren then looked to his fellows and saw that they too were reluctantly not drawing their weapons. The golden masked creature, Kroak then hovered closer and he looked upon its eyes which were made from sort of yellow white gemstone and it strangely caused him to calm down. Upon a closer look, he realizes that like the ivory masked woman, the creature was also an undead thing sitting crossed legged with one bony hand over the other, its ivory white skull could partially be seen below the mask and next to it was another skeleton of a vaguely reptilian creature.
Upon the lap of this Lord Kroak was what looked to be a golden scepter adorned with an orb of malachite. What looked to be Human skulls adorned the floating chair of the golden masked undead creature, its presence felt like a warning not to anger this creature. Arren suddenly then felt an unnerving sensation, as if something was slithering around in his brain.
Your world is threatened by discordance then spoke Lord Kroak into their minds. The gaze of the Dark Titan is fixed upon it. In accordance of the Covenant between The Old Ones and the Titans the Legions of Lustria will come to your world's aid. The World Soul must be safeguarded.
Confusion filled Arren who did not understand a thing of what this the undead thing was even talking about. Before he could say anything, his vision was suddenly filled with a white light that briefly blinded him and he felt that slithering feeling again. The next thing he knew, his vision returned to normal as he saw tendrils of ethereal light leaving his eye sockets and he glanced to see the other pirates were affected by it.
Whatever sorcery this Lord Kroak was using had ultimately been harmless but it deeply unsettled Arren as it transformed into a sphere of light which then drifted to the undead woman and infusing her with its energy. For a moment, the ivory masked undead woman glowed with the light which soon faded and she turned to look upon them.
'Greetings, do you understand me now?' asked the undead woman in a thickly accented and somewhat awkwardly spoken Common.
'Yes' nodded Arren who was not sure how to feel with such blatant use of magic upon them.
'Good, I believe a more proper introduction is required' then said the undead woman whose empty eye sockets looked towards them. 'I am High Queen Khalida of Lybaras, Beloved of Asaph, Daughter of the Asp, Mistress of the Sands and many more titles I have no desire to go on with at this time.'
'Well uh, your highness, I am Arren Larrein' replied the pirate rather awkwardly as he tried to regain his composure. 'We are all members of Admiral Scorpidsting's crew.'
'Admiral?' then questioned this Khalida. 'Are you part of a kingdom's fleet?'
'No your highness, we are uh... Free Sailors' explained Arren who did not want to give away that they were pirates. 'For the right price we can get the others to gladly fight for your cause'.
'I see' replied Khalida. 'If you are familiar with the lands on the other side of this portal then we can come to an agreement.'
'Of the desert, yes' Arren then said. 'Beyond it we can do not know but we also know the South Seas quite well'.
A quiet nod was the undead woman's reply as she then looked to the lizard creatures nearby. Sibilant words were then spoken by Khalida and the red crested one replied in the same foreign language as he then said something to the white lizard thing. The white lizard then rose its head up and began making a series of animalistic noises like those of a Raptor from the Wetlands.
Several other armed lizard creatures then began to approach the portal with the white lizard and the red crested one heading off towards it as well except for the skull helmeted guards which protected Lord Kroak.
I will guide others to Azeroth then came the mind voice of the undead thing. Know that the fates of our worlds will rest on the coming days
The floating thone which Lord Kroak sat upon then turned around to face the way which the lizard beasts came and it floated off while he was accompanied by the polearm equipped warriors. Looking to the undead woman, Khalida she then gestured for them to get up and the pirates immediately began getting up on their feet with weapons secured.
'Lead us to your Admiral, mortal' spoke the High Queen. 'Serve me well and you will be well rewarded with riches beyond your wildest dreams.'
Azshara IC 2532
The smell of freshly spilled blood drove Gortehe into an agitated state as the Saurus Scar Veteran watched the attack upon the camp. Predatory growls were made by the fellow Saurus Warriors around him for they were eager to slay but their discipline kept them in check as they goaded fighter thralls into the battle. Many Man-Spawn died in the initial attack where what looked to be Orcs came out to meet them in battle.
Bones and pieces of meat both fresh or rotting had adorned the forms of the untamed green ones as they gleefully engaged the lobotomized human slaves in close combat. With a hunter's keen eye, Gortehe was able to make observations of these particular Greenskins, he had noted a great many differences in the way they fought when compared to those he had slain in the past. These other Greenskins were merely about as durable as the Orcs he knew but that was where the similarities ended.
He observed that they were quite fast, not as agile as an Elf-Spawn but more so than a Saurus or Dwarf-Spawn, about as much as a Man-Spawn. They fought as well with a savage fury like a Berserker of the Norse Man-Spawn and they were physically stronger too. Watching them fight, Gortehe was reminded of the heavily armored corrupted humans, a dreaded Chaos Warrior but it if one stripped them of such formidable protection for much of their green flesh could be seem.
While not deterred, he was eager to put his observations to the test as airborne Skinks mounted on the backs of Terradons and Ripperdactyls descended from the skies. Barking a series of wordless commands, the Scar Veteran ordered for the cohorts of his fellow Saurus to advance and the warrior-caste of Lustria began to march in ordered ranks as they split up to hit the flanks. Trusting in the command of the Spawn Leaders, Gortehe headed into the huddled mass of human slave fighters, his large two handed macuahuitl generated a nimbus of gloaming, entropic purple colored energy upon each of its obsinite teeth.
For centuries the Scar Veteran had used this particular weapon to kill countless human invaders. Regardless of whether they were corrupted Man-Spawn followers of Chaos or those from the tribes across the sea, Gortehe had slain so many that the priests of Quetzl the Protector had imbued it with the power of death itself. Shoving his way past the human slaves, he cared little for their deaths upon the axes of the Greenskins as he held it in both hands and brought it up over his right shoulder.
Soon he came face to face with a red eyed Orc who had just cut down a slave and before the Greenskin had time to react, the enchanted Macuahuitl came crashing down upon its head and the weapon cleaved through its horned helmeted head and into the brains of the thing. The orc's eyes bulged out of their sockets as Gortehe easily withdrew his weapon and began to aggressively swing his weapon about in sweeping arcs with no regards of allies or foes. With one cleaving strike, he decapitated an orc who had been busy trying to kill a human slave who was in turn slain as well as the obsinite teeth struck its skull.
The other Orcs immediately then recognized that the Scar Veteran was a much greater threat than the Man-Spawn slaves and they shifted their focus upon him but the lobotimzed humans continued to press their attack. As the slaves kept the Greenskins occupied through sheer numbers, Gortehe moved to engage them one at a time while the other Saurus Warriors had begun to attack from the sides or the rear. Briefly looking to the opened gate leading into the camp, the Scar Veteran was pleased to see the attack forces that struck from the water and air already within.
Confident that the battle would be won, Gortehe embraced his bloodlust and lost himself in the thrill of battle.
Kul Tiras, 20 years after the opening of The Dark Portal.
Horns were being blown and orders were shouted by the officers as bands of Human Footmen began to march. Knights kicked their horses into a trot as lances held in their left hands were lowered and swords held in the right were raised high. The paladins along with the other spell casters remained behind to offer magical support while the ranged troops continued to fire volleys of arrows and bullets.
Pouring black powder into the barrel of his rifle from a hollowed ram's horn, Krommador expertly measured how much he put in as arrows flew over head. After years of conflict against The Horde which for some reason still mainly relied upon throwing spears and axes, those of The Alliance had worked out an effective system in regards to the different weapons their ranged units used. Bow armed Elves rained down a volley of arrows while in front of them were Human Crossbowmen and Dwarf Riflemen whose weapons took time to reload after each shot.
Once he had put enough, he reached for a shot pouch he had tied to his belt and from it he took out a round solid shot bullet which he loaded into the barrel. Crossbows were then raised in unison as the Humans who carried them opened fire upon the advancing foe as the Elves maintained a constant volley. The Dwarf then used a small metal rod to push the bullet back and once he was done he raised it up and took aim towards an injured Ogre who despite being pincushioned by arrows, was still very much standing while also slowed by magic.
With one simple movement from his finger, he fired a bullet that was sent straight into the brute's chest. Other Riflemen had also focused their shots upon the Ogre who finally succumbed to its wounds and the beast collapsed hard into the sandy ground. Not many of the Ogres, Raiders, Goblin Sappers or magicians were left as the majority of the enemy attack forces were now just Grunts or other ranged troops.
Raising their shields, the Footmen then picked up their pace as they prepared to meet the Orcs in melee while the Knights rode forward to impale or trample any in their path while their their true targets were the ranged units or casters. The magicians then began to weave more spells, this time to support the sword armed infantry such as being suddenly surrounded by rings of swirling fire which did not harm them but it burned the Orcs they fought while others were blessed by Elf Priests which made them stronger and inured them to pain. The Grunts on other hand had either been slowed or were instantly turned into sheep with some of the unluckier ones facing a permanent transformation.
Alliance artillery fire then began to rain down upon the invaders, those affected by the slowing spells were targeted first as the cannons of the enemy ships had been sent to the bottom of the sea. Krommador watched in amusement as the Knights struck the Orc Grunts or rode past them to get to those behind while others directly engaged the last remaining Ogres or Raiders. Many of spears, axes and spells were hurled at the mounted humans whose steeds had received training for increased endurance and they seemed to just shrug off the pain while the Paladins turned their healing magic upon them.
Soon the remaining Grunts came face to face with the Footmen and fighting became more grim and it was times like this, Krommador had been glad that he was assigned to be a Rifleman. He did not know what it was but in recent years, the dynamic in the fighting between the Alliance's main frontline troops against their Orc counterparts had significantly changed. No longer were they equally matched and that a single Orc Grunt could easily overpower a single Human Footman and that without support, it would take multiple infantrymen just to kill one of the brutes.
Some claimed that the Orcs had increased their training standards while others believed that the remnants of the Human nations had lowered theirs to more easily replace their loses since the last war. Curiously though it seemed that some, but not all of the Ogres were not as powerful as their predecessors while there were older Knights who claimed that these newer Raiders were also not as dangerous in a straight fight as those from the First War. What mattered in the end though was that it had become especially necessary now for Alliance forces to rely on combined arm.
As magic was used to support the Footmen, the ranged troops took careful aim and fired whenever they got a clear shot. More than one Footman had been able to make a kill after the Orc he had been fighting had been shot by bullets or arrows at the most inopportune time or outright saved from a killing blow. Horde spellcasters had also used their magic to support the Orc Grunts but the Elf Priests were quick to dispel the support before blessing the frontline troops again.
The Archmage then gave out the order for the Paladins to charge and the other mounted Human heavy cavalry obeyed. Unlike the younger Knights who wielded swords and lances, these older veterans still used the hammers and shields they carried since the last war. Roughly half spread out to hit the Grunts from the flanks or rear while the others rode to aid the Knights who were busy keeping the enemy ranged troops and casters occupied.
Taking aim once more after reloading his gun, Krommador fired a bullet into the right shoulder of an Orc who was battering a Footman and the Human was quick to take advantage and slashed open the savage's belly. Ropy entrails then fell out from the fatal wound as the Orc in its savage fury tried to punch the man but its fist merely struck the Footman's shield and he finished it off with deep cut to the neck. The Orc finally then collapsed and the Footman was quick to come to the aid of on his fellow infantrymen who was busily trading blows with another Grunt.
The battle went on for a few more minutes and in the end the invaders had fought to the last. Some tried to escape back to sea but already none of the transport ships had remained to stay and those who attempted to flee had been cut down from behind by the cavalry. Looking to the sky again, Krommador was thankful that no Dragons had been brought this time around but still it disturbed him to see how the enemy would just so callously throw away the lives of their troops. Looking to the sandy battlefield he knew that today's attack would not be last and there would continue to be more, again and again just as it had been for past fifteen years...
Azshara IC 2532
Green bodies were sent flying as Tlahtuaka witnessed Nakai the Wanderer crash into a group of Orc spear throwers. With a single sweep of his massive mace which glowed an amber light, The Spirit of the Jungle massacred the creatures as he ignored the thrown spears and axes that stuck to his scarred hide. Some Orc attempted to flee but they did not get far as either the other Kroxigors were upon them or that poisoned darts, javelins and arrows from Skinks struck them.
From his position within the sky above, the Skink Chief was able to get a good lool at the battle below. Many of the Greenskins close combat warriors had been quick to engage the Man-Spawn fighter slaves while Saurus bided their time and then struck from the sides when they were already engaged. Caring little for the deaths of enslaved former enemies, the attentions the Skink Chief had then focused his attention upon the part of the enemy settlement facing towards the shores.
Led by both He That Hunts Unseen and The Spirit of the Jungle, the Lizardmen forces struck fast and hard with the Kroxigors already upon the Greenskin while the Skinks attacked from afar. Magic was being used by the Greenskins who had what looked to be Orcs wearing the pelts of lupine beasts or magicians wearing dark robes that. Those who had been slain exploded in a shower of blood and meat as skeletons rose up to meet the Kroxigors in combat with predictable results.
The bones of the undead were shattered into pieces by the raging Kroxigors, many of whom were veterans in the numerous wars which the Vampire, Luthor Harkon waged upon the denizens of undead did not have the sheer weight of numbers that made them the significant threat which the Lizardmen were used to seeing while some proved only marginally more dangerous as they were imbued with spells from the casters. Taking aim with his blowpipe while still up high, Tlahtuaka fired a poisoned dart that hit a fur wearing Orc in its exposed right arm and the creature soon collapsed in agony as the poison burned its veins.
The other Terradon riders as well as Ripperadactyl riders were savagely aiding the Kroxigors by diving down to rip apart the remaining foes while the Skink Chief spat more poisoned darts. Attacked from both fronts as well as above, the Greenskin resistance soon succumbed to the assaults of the Lizardmen with those who still lived being taken prisoner. When the fighting finally ceased, the Lustrians then turned their attentions to the nearby buildings where Kroxigor took care to avoid the sharpened stakes surrounding the buildings as they smashed down doors and groups of Saurus and Skinks entered the dwellings.
More Greenskins were being dragged out of the structures while yelping in fear as they were quickly set upon by the Lizardmen and bound with ropes. Others came out not with living prisoners but with sacks filled with assorted items or outright carrying plundered weapons. The settlement would be sacked of anything valuable which they would trade with or give to their thrallls.
Some Kroxigors and Skinks he noticed returned to the waters for he had in the distance seen ships sailing upon this planet's World Pond. Any vessels that approached would be in for a nasty surprise thought Tlahtuaka as he looked for He That Hunts Unseen and the ancient Chameleon Skink was found overseeing the capture of prisoners which Nakai it seemed was assigning Saurus Warriors to guard them. The Old Ones were to be thanked for this victory and it was only proper for these Greenskins to be offered to the hungry gods.
Kul Tiras, 20 years after the opening of The Dark Portal.
Holding a roll of woolen bandages in his thick hands, Krommador tightly bound the wounds of a fellow Dwarf named Morrin winced in pain before reaching for a drinking skin filled with a stout beer by his belt and he took a swig of its contents. An Amani throwing axe had struck the red bearded Dwarf in the back behind the left hip but the wound was not so severe now for an Elf priest had provided some partial healing, enough so that it could be bandaged and allowed to heal naturally. A loud satisfied belch escaped the the maw of Morrin who then handed it Krommador and he gratefully took it before taking a drink as well.
The two Dwarfs sat upon round seated, low legged wooden stools which despite being built for a Human's height, their booted feet comfortably remained planted to the ground. A bonfire burned not far away from them where a cauldron filled with fishy stew cooked and plump auburn haired Kul Tiran woman was busy preparing their meal.
'Ah miss the drinks at the Thunderbrew' commented Morrin a bit glumly as he looked to the fire before them.
'Aye and Ragnar's Ribs too' agreed Krommador who had grimly heard how the village of Kharanos was now a warzone. He dearly wanted to be back in Khaz Modan and helping with the fight.
'Think both the Brew families made it to Ironforge?' asked Morrin.
'Sure hope so' replied Krommador. 'Brewfest would never be the same without em'
'Cept The Direbrews' growled Morrin. 'Ah bet them Dark Irons are in cahoots with the Orcs.'
Nodding in agreement, Krommador along with many other Dwarves had been suspicious of why the leaders of The Horde squatted in Blackrock and many believed it was due to some sort of agreement between the Dark Iron Clan and the Orcs. He would not have been surprised if the Orcs were also selling prisoners or plundered treasure to the Dark Iron for the cursed kin were known to take slaves. As he finished binding the wounds of his friend and was satisfied that it was properly done, he took a moment to survey their surroundings.
The return to base camp had been a quite thing for the Alliance soldiers as weary troops headed back to their assigned Barracks or the thatch roof cottages where they were billeted. Today's losses were thankfully few for the troops under Archmage Garenion but the sight of many dead or wounded from other regiments brought back on stretchers was a sobering thing. They may have been lucky but the same could not be said for the other Alliance forces.
It seemed that the landing forces that arrived near Bridgeport was merely part of a much larger group which also struck at Boralus and Freeport. As expected the fighting there had been more intense but ultimately The Horde had been driven back. There were not enough Priests, Paladins and other healers capable of both magical or mundane means to tend to all of the wounded and so some were being sent to this camp.
Priests, Clerics and Paladins prayed to the Holy Light to heal the wounds of the injured while trained medics bound wounds with bandages or gave out healing potions to their charges. The Archmage, Garenion could also be seen among the healers, a grim look could be seen on the old wizard's face as he used fire magic to cauterize the wound of a burly Kul Tiran Footman whose left hand was a bleeding stump. His magic replenishing aura though was the reason why he stayed with the healers while offering what assistance he could.
Among the most potent forms of healing though were done by the more senior Paladins, those who like the Archmage were given positions of leadership within Alliance forces. One of the Paladin-Commanders, Lord Dannen who was known to be the son of Archmage Garenion stood next to a cart filled with dead bodies. Six corpses covered in bloodied white blankets were laid out next to him and the Paladin commander held up a prayer book, a Libram and he called upon the power of The Light.
Golden light then infused the corpses which began to move about beneath the cloth shrouds and they began to rise up whole and healed. Four of the bodies were human clad in plate armor, another was an elf sorceress and the last surprisingly turned out to be a pair of Dwarves, one taller and a shorter one, no doubt a Mortar Team. Looking about in confusion, the formerly dead individuals were able to figure out what had happened and they thanked the Paladin for their return to life.
Such divine magic was among the things that kept the Alliance going thought Krommador who was aware that back on the mainland there were other powerful Paladins leading their comrades. He had heard that Lords Uther the Lightbringer and Turalyon were still around along with others and that the son of the late king, Terenas Menethil was also one. Krommador had also heard of a particularly zealous group of Humans led by a Lord Abbendis who had begun donning tabards of white and scarlet with a flame insignia leading a significant resistance force against The Horde in Lordaeron.
Looking about elsewhere in the camp, his gaze briefly passed a section they all called The Pen, where filthy, rusting iron cages could be found, each one containing a captured enemy prisoner of war. Guarded by scruffy looking men who despite wearing the tabards of Kul Tiran soldiers, they looked more like pirates for their manner of appearance was very unkempt. Orc, Troll, Goblin and even a few Ogre prisoners were kept in the cages and in chains for the creatures were known to be quite rowdy and ready to start fights with each other or the guards.
It made Krommador's black beard bristle that some of the Humans actually took Horde troops prisoner instead of outright executing them. Foolish ideals of honor, virtue and mercy had compelled some of the Alliance leadership to treat the savages "humanely", despite everyone knowing The Horde would not do the same for them. There were dark rumors going about where it was believed that the Orcs kept labor camps where prisoners were worked to death and that those who died were brought back to unlife through foul sorcery.
Krommador knew that a prominent Kul Tiran noble family, the Ashvanes were in charge of handling the prisoners and had heard that they maintained an off-shore prison camp somewhere. He hoped the Ashvanes treated the brutes harshly for working them like dogs was the least that what their kind deserved if not extermination. A soft frustrated grunt was then made by the Dwarf who knew that there was no point in fuming over things way beyond his control.
One day he hoped that they would be able to drive out the Orcs and reclaim the Eastern Kingdoms. If ever that day came, he hoped he would still be around to see it.
Azshara IC 2532
High pitched chirps and clicks could be heard by Gortehe as Skink Patrol leaders organized the transportation of the plunder the Lizardmen had claimed from the Greenskin settlement. Wooden wagons had been found within the premises where various items were being loaded onto the vehicles which included sacks of gold, bundles of lumber, wooden containers holding food, bars of metal and other things which likely were of value to the traders. Living creatures were also to be transported from the captives that remained under the guard of the Saurus to beasts found in pens or cages.
The settlement contained a number of buildings which seemed to be dedicated for the rearing of swine and also the brewing of fermented beverages that tasted of blood. Skinks could be seen herding the plump porcine livestock animals while others were trying to goad strange horned reptillian beasts with fur along their backs. Other creatures though were too unruly to be taken back and were to be slaughtered.
The Scar Veteran stood within the interior of a tower-like structure where the Greenskins kept their beasts of war. Illuminated by sunlight that shone through metal bars above, he heard the angry growls and barks as the Saurus officer who now held a pilfered throwing spear in hand looked into the eyes of a snarling, fang mawed lupine beast. Carefully angling the throwing spear which he had taken from a dead orc, Gortehe quickly thrust it into the neck of the beast and it gave a high pitched whimper as the tip buried into its flesh.
Other Saurus warriors proceeded to slaughter the caged animals using spears as well for the creatures were simply too dangerous to take back with them. A chorus of more yelps and whimpers rang out within the tower as the animals were killed with the rest being driven into a frenzied panic. Their meat and hides would be of use anyway to the Lizardmen who did the same with the bodies of the dead enemies along with the Man-Spawn slaves slain in the battle.
After all of the lupines had been killed, Gortehe led the spear armed Saurus to a spiraling stairway along the walls of the tower which led to another section where winged beasts that vaguely looked like Manticore were caged. Once they reached the tower's upper floor, they spread out to the other cages and readied to butcher the beasts as well. Taking a good look at the creatures within the cages, Gortehe made a number of observations which he compared to what he knew about Manticores which were used in battle by corrupted Man-Spawn and the Elf-Spawn of Naggaroth.
The Manticore-like creatures were definitely smaller in comparison, they possessed two legs, no arms with winged limbs in place and long scorpion tails which dripped with venom. The beast which he studied gazed back at him with eyes filled with a familiar keen, predatory intellect which unlike that of the lupines, it seemed to understand what his intentions were. The hide of the winged manticore-thing was covered in old scars, marks he had also seen upon creatures broken in by the cruel beast taming methods which the likes of the Naggaroth Elf-Spawn or the Rat-Spawn used.
Had Gortehe been a weak-willed Warmblood, he would have felt something like regret or perhaps hesitance for what he was about to do but he was Saurus, a Lizardman and servant of the Old Ones. Emotions such as mercy and compassion were foreign to the Scar Veteran who raised his plundered spear and stabbed the manticore-thing in the right eye. Just like with the Lupines, the Saurus mercilessly butchered the caged animals so they would not be used against them and once they were done, they opened the cages to begin hacking off body parts.
Once their butchery was done, the Saurus returned back down to the pens below while carrying pieces of the manticore things while others of their kind were dragging out dead lupine beasts to be hauled upon the carts. For Gortehe, he carried the head of the beast he had slain for its leonine mane would make for a fine cloak in the cooler climes of this land. Soon they found themselves outside again where hundreds of fellow Lizardmen were combing over the settlement for anything of value and after several minutes of thorough ransacking, they were heading back to the portal with plunder along with prisoners in tow.
As they headed back, the Scar Veteran noticed that in the distance to the other settlement which the island Elf-Spawn of Ulthuan attacked and the Warmbloods could be seen heading back as well. Certain that they had been just as successful, Gortehe turned his mind to the approaching forest with senses alert for any other dangers that could be lurking about.
Kul Tiras, 20 years after the opening of The Dark Portal.
Hot steam was blown away from the spoon which Krommador held on his right hand as he tried to cool his stew and the Dwarf enjoyed a mouthful of freshly cooked seafood with vegetables. He sat with a mixed group of other soldiers, himself and Morrin, a pair of Elves and two Gnomes, each one a familiar face to him.
'Ah tell ya that we outta get tha res o our lads out the mainland' said Morrin to the others rather loudly. 'Skulkin about an hittin them Orcs when they aint lookin is gettin us nowhere!'
'But it does keep the pressure off of us here' casually replied an Elf Ranger named Elloren. 'From what I hear, Lord Sunstrider's forces have been successful in holding on to the islands of Lordamere Lake while the Windrunners have recently sacked Amber Mill'
'Aye they bloodied the Orcs sure, but them sisters have been doin that fer years now' then said Morrin as he was dipping a piece of hardened bread into his fish stew. 'But then so have the others we still aint got back anything big like Stratholme.'
Leaning forward, Morrin then was pointing his spoon to the east and then motioned it westwards.
'If we all got our arses together in one spot, we could make a big push, maybe even get back Lodaeron city'
'The losses would be far too significant' interjected a blonde haired Elf Sorceress named Sorviela who like the others female spellcasters was dressed quite provocatively in manner that made it hard not to stare at her pleasingly exposed flesh. 'Our spies say the Orcs have heavily fortified the city, both from land and sea. It would be a bloodbath just assaulting the city.'
Morrin was about to say something but he could not find the words to make a retort because she was right. The losses they had suffered over the years meant that their forces balanced on a knife's edge. With lines of communications and supplies between the disparate Alliance forces being unstable, it was difficult for groups in different regions to support one another or be able to get any reinforcements.
Their leadership had been aware as well of this and had issued edicts to make every attempt to recover the dead a priority for those who could not be resurrected would end up as undead minions for the Orcs.
'Sure wish something would change though' commented a brown bearded Gnome pilot named Gnorren who had styled his hair and beard in a manner similar to that of a Dwarf. 'On my last flight mission, the Orcs still held all of the lands from Lordaeron to Loch Modan, its a miracle how the Highlands and Dun Morogh have managed to survive.'
'And things sure aren't any better with Gilneas' noted the other Gnome, a Mage and submariner named Nighbble who was Gnorren's cousin. 'Those wolf monsters Archmage Arugal summoned just can't be controlled. They are attacking everything!'
A grim silence then descended upon them for it had been known for sometime now that the situation in Gilneas had grown dire. Some sort of wolf-like humanoid creatures have been causing havoc to both Alliance and Horde forces. If Gilneas fell then they would have no ports where their ships could land ferry troops or supplies back and forth on the mainland.
The group then continued to converse, sharing news, rumors and gossip of what they heard along bits of small talk here and there. Each of them longed to return to their homelands for aside from the conflict in Khaz Modan, the Elves of Quel'thalas had their own internal problems brewing, one which the Orcs no doubt had a hand in creating. As they chatted, Krommador noticed that their Commander, Archmage Garenion and his son the Paladin Lord Dannen passing by without an escort.
Raising a curious eyebrow, he decided that whatever the two humans were doing was their business as he then turned his attention back to his friends.
Riding upon horseback, Archmage Garenion quietly guided his steed forward upon the road leading out of the base camp before heading off in the direction to Boralus. Dressed in the distinct blue robes and pointed hat of his old order, the Archmage was proud of his association with the old Conjurers Sect which did not answer to the Violet Citadel of Dalaran. Next to him was his son who he was proud of to have risen from ranks of the also mostly destroyed Brotherhood of the Horse to a member of the Silver Hand and now a commander within The Alliance.
'What do you suppose Lord Proudmoore is planning? questioned the muffled voice of his son who rested a large hammer over his right shoulder while riding on an armored white steed. Clad in old but well maintained steel full platemail, he wore a horned helmet that only left his hazel eyes and the skin around it exposed. A blue and gold lion tabard was worn by the Paladin for despite being stuck here in Kul Tiras, both men were at heart loyal servants to the House of Wrynn.
'It is likely of a matter of utmost secrecy' guessed the Archmage as he looked to the surrounding countryside. 'Why else would we be travelling without guards?'
Just a short while ago, a courier had come by delivering a scroll tube which bore the seal of House Proudmoore and cryptic instructions to head to a location in the wilds not far from Boralus. It was not like the Lord Admiral to resort to such secrecy but with the constant threat of spies from Alterac in their midst, one could never be too careful he supposed. As they followed the road leading towards the capital of Kul Tiras, they had as per instructions then gone off road to the west once they reached a sign post with directions Boralus or Bridgeport.
Keeping their hands close to their weapons and their minds ready, the Archmage would have been ready to hurl a fireball or summon a water elemental to attack anything that threatened them. Quiet prayers were then quickly whispered by his son who was instantly wreathed in a mystical aura of the Holy Light which granted a degree of physical protection to the robed Wizard. More than once, that magical aura born of faith had saved the lives of himself and their troops which he was was thankful for its protection.
Soon the arcane senses of the old mage told him of something, another presence, of magic in the air and he heard the clopping of metal shod hooves upon the cobbled stone road magic. Seven other riders were then seen upon the road, fellow Men dressed either in voluminous robes or shining armor while bearing the insignias of their allegiance as fellow commanders of The Alliance. Raising his staff to hail the approaching men, Garenion soon saw several familiar faces among the approaching riders which were composed of three fellow Archmages and five Paladins who all led other contingents of Alliance troops around Kul Tiras.
The presence of such men raised a curious eyebrow from the former Conjurer who was realized that whatever was the reason for Lord Proudmore's summons it must have been urgent indeed. Soon the two of them came face to face with their fellow leaders who greeted them with respect.
'King's Honor my friends' called Dannen towards the other men as he rested his warhammer over his right shoulder. 'I assume you all have received the summons?'
'Indeed brother' replied one of the Paladins, a man named Isander The Deathbreaker who held up a piece of parchment bearing the seal of House Proudmore. The other Alliance Commanders as well presented similar objects and both men quietly joined up with their fellow commanders as they rode with them. Travelling along the road, the band of leaders soon went off the cobbled path and into the nearby woods at the direction of the message.
Magic both Arcane and Divine now filled the air as each leader was surrounded by a mystical aura, their steeds trudged through the tall wild grass beneath the eaves of green trees with the smell of salty sea air mixing with that of the forest. It did not take long before they arrived at the designated meeting point and as one they dismounted from the backs of their loyal beasts. Cautiously looking about, Garenion then began to look about to see if the Lord Admiral was around and his senses picked up another magical presence, a familiar one of the arcane.
'Gentlemen, thank you all for coming' then came a soft, feminine voice and the eyes of the Archmage along with the others turned to see the approaching form a young, blonde haired and blued eyed woman wearing a purple cloak and dressed in a rather scandalous manner caused the Archmage's gaze to linger for a moment on the maiden who was none other than the daughter of the Lord Admiral, Lady Jaina Proudmoore.
'Lady Proudmoore?' then came the confused voice of a fellow Archmage named Erdan whose robes and tabards bore the fist of Stromgarde. 'You sent the letters?'
'I have' nodded the young woman somewhat embarrassedly as she looked away for a moment before looking to them with her blue eyes, a sense of determination could be seen. As master of the arcane arts, Garenion could sense the power within this young woman, who over the years had proven to be a capable battle mage and leader at such a young age as well. The Archmage was certain that if the young lady Proudmoore had the time and years to study the arcane arts, she could possibly become a truly powerful mage, no Guardian of course, but one who definitely could easily be seen sitting on the Council of the Kirin Tor or what's left of it anyway.
'There is something important I must tell you all but what I am about to speak of must remain confidential' then announced the young Lady Jaina which drew curious looks from the seasoned Alliance Commanders as they all seemed unsure on what to do.
'Speak your mind my lady, you have my word that I will not speak a word of this matter' then announced Dannen. Soon similar words were spoken by the other leaders where an expression of relief could be seen on the young woman.
'As you all know, this war with The Horde has been getting us nowhere' spoke Lady Jaina. 'The situation with Kael-, Lord Sunstrider is getting worse, Khaz Modan is still under siege and we have barely had any progress in taking back the mainland.'
'And I suppose you have a solution My Lady?' skeptically then asked Garenion with a raised eyebrow for while her words were true and that the Alliance indeed had barely made any progress in any of their war fronts against The Horde, he just could not imagine though that she would miraculously somehow have a solution to their problems.
'I have... learned of something that can help us finally win, something far away across the sea to the west' replied the young woman.
'What is there to the west my lady?' then question the Paladin Isander with tone that was both skeptical yet hopeful at the same time.
'An ancient land called Kalimdor' answered Lady Jaina. 'There we will find a way to save our peoples and our world'
The gathered Alliance Commanders looked to one another with uncertainty and it was then that Garenion noticed something about this particular group. None of them bore insignias that marked their allegiance to the Kingdom of Kul Tiras. Each and every one of the leaders gathered here were foreigners like himself and his son, They likely were also here under orders from their lieges to ensure that the Alliance maintained its hold on the last unfallen kingdom of Men and none were technically beholden to the ruling Proudmoore Admiralty.
Clever girl, was the thought of the Archmage with approval for if the other commanders were like him, privately growing dissatisfied with direction which the Alliance was taking then they were more likely to do just about anything to rejoin their countrymen on the mainland. The offer at a chance of something that might finally turn the tides of war in their favor was something none of them would pass up, no matter how slim it would be.
'And does the Lord Admiral know about this?' then asked Dannen and the gaze of the young Lady faltered for a moment as she looked back to him.
'He does' quietly replied the young woman. 'And he believes sending our forces west will be a waste of resources'.
'And so you wish us to embark on an expedition to this, Kalimdor, without your father's support?' then spoke Garenion who was certain at what the young lady was trying to get at and already she had his support.
'Yes, I was just getting to that' nodded Lady Jaina.
'My forces are at your command, my lady' announced the former Conjurer who gave a formal bow while still seated upon the back of his horse. The Archmage knew full well the possible ramifications if this choice yet he was certain as well that should The Alliance maintain their current direction, the Orcs would eventually overwhelm Kul Tiras through sheer attrition.
'And mine' then announced Dannen who bowed his head for he too was aware of the Alliance's current situation.
The other Alliance leaders began to deliberate among themselves for in war-time like this, such action could be seen as desertion yet Garenion was certain that they too knew full well how their overall forces had been stagnating over the years, their strength slowly sapping away while the enemy's did not diminish. Soon their collective gazes returned to the young sorceress and it was the Paladin Isander who spoke.
'When do we set sail my lady?'