This is the beginning of a project that I have been contemplating for a few years now. I enjoyed playing through Battle for Azeroth, but like much of the community, I was.. let's say displeased by the story. I strongly enjoy the faction conflict and was disappointed when BfA failed, in my eyes, to adequately use the vast amounts of potential within Azeroth, and when it moved away from the Horde vs. Alliance story to focus on "the big bad." I have finally gotten around to doing something about it. This story is my version of how BfA could have gone, with a few changes. Most importantly, Sargeras did not stab his sword into Silithus, and there is no Azerite. There will be no Azshara, or N'Zoth, or Uldir, or anything to do with the Shadowlands (which means no secret motivation for Sylvanas either). The War of Thorns is the same except for three things - Sylvanas gave fake intel for a march towards Feathermoon Stronghold in Feralas instead of Silithus, Tyrande and Malfurion hearthstone to Darnassus instead of Stormwind, and more importantly the war's ending, which is where we will begin. The plan currently is to keep this going indefinitely, until I feel there is nothing more left to do with it or I am no longer motivated to continue. My best friend has chosen to help me plan and write this, but prefers to stay anonymous, so not all of the ideas or writing is mine. We will be using original characters made for the story, minor canon characters, and major canon characters. We will be doing our best to adhere to the size of the map, zones, and cities in lore, and keep any characters who are not our own consistent, but neither of us can promise perfection.

At the end of the day, we're just two nerds who love WoW and wish the writing was as good as it deserves, and think we can do it better, so please be kind.

With all of that said, I, Mar, and an anonymous amorphous blob, humbly present Battle for Azeroth Rewritten!

DISCLAIMER

The following story contains references to various content from the game World of Warcraft, owned by Blizzard Entertainment. We claim credit for the story, but not anything in the story that originally belonged to Blizzard Entertainment.

Rated M for strong language, graphic violence, and death.


Varok Saurfang stood on the shore as if a statue, his narrowed eyes watching the sea with such intensity, one might almost have guessed he was worried a kraken might be about to erupt from the surface to kill him. His fists clenched and unclenched. His boots shifted in the sand, angrily trying to force it to stop moving beneath him.

There were few things he disliked more than being unarmed, and being unarmoured was one of them, and here he was, being both. He was somewhat worried that his scowl would put Sylvanas off, but figured that if there was anything likely to anger her, it wasn't his facial expression.

"She will not want you here."

"I don't think she wants you here either, High Overlord," replied Mirraden, one of the Dark Rangers at either side of him. "Is there anyone in the Horde who she'd be happy to see on her shore, do you think?"

"No, but I am sure she would prefer some over others." Saurfang only half-believed that.

"She will have to deal with what she is given. That is the consequence of being conquered." The voice was Talandra's, to his right. Her tone sounded bitter.

"Silence. Speak again and lose your tongues." The voice came from behind Saurfang, the third and final ranger assigned to his diplomatic negotiations. The High Overlord had the displeasure of meeting many of Sylvanas's underlings, and Denasya Blackbough was one of the highest ranking. Not another word escaped the rangers' lips, although Talandra had to bite back the urge to retort. They were not in casual company, after all.

Half an hour passed before Saurfang saw something moving towards them in front of the colossal backdrop of Teldrassil, and soon afterwards Mirraden spoke up. "High Overlord, they're approaching." He grunted in response, doing his best to keep his breath steady. Politics had never been his forte, and Tyrande in particular very likely did not hold an especially fond view of him, given that he had just thrown his axe at her husband. He almost shifted in place, desperate to move, but he stopped himself - it wouldn't do him any favours to show weakness around the Dark Rangers, standing ominously still and silent around him, like gargoyles.

A minute or two later he heard the distant flapping of wings, and the mass grew larger and more distinct, separating into a few different shapes. Upon narrowing his eyes, he made out four different hippogryphs, bearing down on them with frightening speed. His hand clenched, unclenched, clenched again. He took a deep breath, the hippogryphs being so close now that he could almost make out the faces of their riders.

Saurfang raised one arm above his face, frowning in irritation as the night elves came in to land, and the four pairs of wings immediately began to disturb the sand on the beach, sending it flying into his face. The Dark Rangers shielded themselves as well, although when the orc glanced at them, the seemingly ordinary gesture still managed to put him off - none of them seemed to actually be bothered. He fought back a scowl, clearing his throat and turning his attention back to High Priestess and her Sentinels. Tyrande had dismounted, although the other three remained on their hippogryphs.

Tyrande's glowing eyes were hard to read, but Saurfang doubted very much that they were focused on him. She said nothing for the moment, opting to let the silence grow heavier. The moment was still, with only a gentle breeze and the peaceful lapping of waves on the shore. Eventually Saurfang spoke. "High Prieste–"
Tyrande cut him off in an instant. It was clear she had been waiting to do so. "The Horde will halt all aggressions upon Teldrassil. Our ships will be allowed safe passage to see civilians to safety."

Silence fell over the group again. Saurfang pondered how to respond to such a bold opener. "...We will not pull back, or give territory, but you will have a full ceasefire until all civilians are evacuated."

One of the sentinels behind Tyrande was fidgeting atop her hippogryph and glaring at him with enough malice to melt solid ice, and Tyrande's gaze wasn't pleasant either. "Do you truly think you have won, orc? We've pushed your kind back before, we will again. This land is not yours and never will be."

"We will see." Saurfang knew this anger well. The malice of a people pushed to the edge. Twice in his own lifetime the same sting afflicted him. "The Warchief has put forward an offer, as well. Evacuate all peoples of the Alliance from Teldrassil and the surrounding shores, and no harm will come to them. This includes you, High Priestess."

"You think we would abandon our home so easily?!" One of the Sentinels spoke up, her hippogryph taking a few steps forward.

"Would you rather stay and die along with them?" Talandra fired back, stepping forward herself. Saurfang's hand clenched and unclenched.

"Talandra! Be silent now!" Denasya shouted, her hand clenching into a fist in silent rage. Talandra looked back, regained her composure, and stepped back. Saurfang glanced toward the night elves again, seeing the two other sentinels trying to calm down the third. The High Priestess stood tall, an unreadable expression covering her face.

An annoyed grunt interrupted the moment as Saurfang grit his teeth. He wasn't cut out for this, he knew that much. Best to cut it short here while there was some level of agreement. "Consider the offer or don't. You have time to evacuate, and when next we meet, may our actions be made with honour." With his final words, he turned, walking towards the newest conquest of the Horde, Lor'danel.
Within minutes, all eight of the meeting's participants had left, leaving the beach empty and quiet. The moon hung low, a cold crescent shining over a freshly war torn land.


Cordressa Briarbow ducked behind the railing of The Dragonfly, her breath heavy as an arrow whisked overhead, fast and close enough for her to hear it. She immediately knelt down, gritting her teeth and forcing herself to slow down and steady her breath. She tried to ignore the screams echoing out across the water. Within a mere few seconds, she sat back up, gazing out over the railing towards the shore teeming with Horde. In a single, fluid motion, she grabbed an arrow, nocked, found a target, drew it back, and fired, watching the arrow fly true towards a half-rotting undead, only for the walking corpse to teleport away well before the arrow even got close. Cordressa scowled and ducked back down again.

She only had eleven arrows left now, but realistically she knew it didn't matter. It wouldn't matter if she had a hundred and every shot was lethal, there were just too many. There were too many…

"Cordressa! I need help with this!" The shout snapped her out of her trance instantly, forcefully dragging her attention to the front of the ship, where she saw Reina Morningchill struggling with a ballista mounted into the deck, but which seemed to be immobilised somehow. She peeked her head over the railing, ducked again, and as an arrow thudded into the deck next to her, she took a deep breath and leapt to her feet.

The sprint across the ship felt as stressful as sprinting away from an erupting volcano - she could almost feel the Horde's eyes on her, the arrows being nocked, the spells being charged, and in a sudden moment of panic she jumped behind a mast. A few seconds later a wave of heat blew past her as she heard an explosion on the other side of the mast. Immediately she started running again, not bothering to look at whatever had happened. Reina was crouching behind the siege weapon, eyes closed and muttering something to herself. Cordressa slid across the wood next to her, already panting again just from that. The mage gasped in surprise when the sentinel grabbed her shoulder, shaking her to attention. "Gods Cordressa, don't startle me like that!"

"What's wrong with the ballista?"

"Nothing's wrong with it, but I can't operate it right now. One of their mages is trying to freeze the water around us."

Damn them. "Can you keep them off of me for a minute?"

"A minute? The water will freeze by then."

Damn them! Cordressa's fist clenched and unclenched. "Will you be able to unfreeze it?"

"Not if the mage keeps interfering, but otherwise yes."

"Ok, then do it." Cordressa grabbed two arrows from her quiver, stood, nocked, sighted, drew, fired, and ducked again, not waiting to see what happened. A bullet hit the deck by her feet. Nine arrows left. Reina was chanting something. Cordressa leaned over and grabbed one of the limbs of the ballista, bracing against the deck and leaning into it as hard as she could. It felt like trying to push a house, but it did eventually start moving, swinging around slowly to aim towards the shore.

Cordressa pivoted and caught the stock of the weapon as it swung towards her, almost sweeping her off her feet, and grabbed a bolt from the quiver that was built into the deck. She gritted her teeth and snarled in frustration, dragging it out and managing to manoeuvre the unwieldy thing into the flight groove. An arrow whizzed above her head.

Reina shouted something next to her, and turned to look up at Cordressa. "If you're going to do something, do it now!"

"I can't… get the… rope… back!" She was heaving on the crank wheel that pulled the rope to the end of the weapon in order to fire, but this felt like trying to push a house up a hill.

"Dammit, move!" She stepped back and watched as the mage stood up, taking a deep breath and eyeing the contraption before glancing at the beach. "Cover me."

Nine arrows. It would have to do. She ran for the railing, sliding across the wood into cover. She steadied her breathing, laying the arrows out on the deck and nocking one. She stood, sighted, drew, fired. Knelt, nocked, stood, sighted, drew, fired. Knelt, nocked, stood, sighted, drew, fired. Six arrows left. She ducked underneath a crossbow bolt, stood and aimed for a lone figure. "Cordressa! Back over here, I need help again!" The sentinel grabbed her remaining arrows off of the deck and ran back over, nocking one into her bow on the way and firing off a quick shot as she skidded to a halt. Four left now.

Reina was breathing heavily, very visibly exhausted, and didn't even spare a glance at Cordressa. "I'm going to summon a block of ice. It will fall onto the crank and hopefully pull the rope onto the latch, but if it doesn't we'll have to pull the rest of the way."

"You're sure this will work?"

"No. Are you ready?"

Cordressa took a deep breath. "Yeah. Go."

Reina gritted her teeth and held up her hands, muttering behind her breath. An arrow slammed into the body of the ballista. She instinctually nocked, sighted, drew, fired, and dropped the bow as Reina's incantation finished, and she was suddenly holding an enormous, solid chunk of packed ice. She screamed out in anger as she slammed it down directly onto the wide handle of the crank, shattering the cube instantly into innumerable slivers of ice which dissolved immediately, doing away with the ice and sending the crank spinning wildly for a few seconds. They both watched in delight as the rope clicked into the latch, priming the ballista for use. The night elves shared a brief, ecstatic grin, as Cordressa ran towards the release pin and aimed the weapon at the shore.

The jolt of the siege weapon being fired nearly startled Cordressa enough to knock her to her feet, as the rope slammed into the bolt with enough force to rip off a limb and sent the projectile flying towards the Horde invaders, colliding hard with the ground and kicking up a huge cloud of dirt. Her long ears twitched as she just managed to pick up a scream, and as the dust parted she saw an orc crawling away, his leg having been torn completely off as the stump aggressively poured blood out onto the ground, while his fellow soldiers took one look at the ballista bolt and turned to get as far away from The Dragonfly and its surprise siege weapon as they could.

Cordressa grinned - the shot hadn't been immediately lethal, no, but damn did the sight of Horde soldiers fleeing in terror bring some joy to her heart nonetheless.

Her merriment was abruptly cut short, as the sound of a horn pierced the air, rolling across the water. Cordressa turned around to see where it was coming from, and soon saw Shandris Feathermoon sounding the horn. The booming noise faded away quickly, and was replaced with another, and at last a third.

"That's the signal to retreat…" Cordressa muttered, as the realisation dawned on her. "She's retreating? We're retreating?! No! No, this is our land, this is our home!" Her fist clenched and unclenched.

"Cordressa. Be… be realistic. There's too many. We can't fight them…"

"No! No, we could do it, we've done it before! If we just… just…"

Silence fell upon the pair, as they watched the various ships of the night elven fleet turn around and begin to sail away. The rest of the crew of The Dragonfly had all been killed, and the two of them definitely couldn't sail the ship on their own. The two glanced at the main deck of their ship, covered with bodies, and at each other, tears threatening to well in both their eyes.

"Go. You can teleport to one of the other ships and escape with the other's."

"What? No! I'm not leaving you here!"

"Do it! Do it now before the ships sail out of range and you're stuck here to die!"

"But you'll be stuck here to die!"

"Then I will die defending my home."

Cordressa's expression was hard as the Sentinel took a deep, steady breath. Reina glanced meaningfully at her quiver, with its three remaining arrows.

"Go." Reina opened her mouth again to try and voice another objection, but nothing came to mind. Cordressa smiled sadly and turned around, not wanting to watch her friend vanish. As she heard the quiet blip of Reina blinking away, her heart felt like it was going to shatter.

Cordressa Briarbow ran to the edge of the ship again, ducking behind the railing, and nocked an arrow. She stood, sighted, drew, fired, ducked. She nocked, stood, sighted, drew, fired, and ducked. With how watery her eyes were, she knew that neither of them would hit anyone, but she didn't care.

There was another quiet blip of arcane magic nearby. Cordressa's heart soared for a moment as she turned around, excitement on her face. "Rei–"

A wave of pure arcane magic erupted from the undead mage's hand and washed over her, tearing into the sentinel.

Cordressa's eviscerated body fell backwards onto the deck, only one arrow left in her quiver, never to be fired.


Malurus Wintereye's fists clenched and unclenched as he stood at the edge of one of the evacuation ships, watching the silhouette of Teldrassil slowly fade out of view. He had only been living there for a few months, and now he had to leave, right after he'd finally gotten used to it.

He slammed his fist into the wood, once, twice, three, four, five times, fruitlessly trying to take out his frustration on something, anything, as he sank to his knees, staring desolately at the frothing waters lapping against the wood. He would give nearly anything to have Selaria or Illialyia here with him, but Selaria had gone to Wintergarde Keep in Northrend with the other injured to get dedicated medical treatment as soon as possible, and the children were on a different ship, having been evacuated earlier.

He felt a hand on his shoulder. "We will return, sooner or later. The Horde haven't won yet."

Malurus sprung to his feet, whirled around, and threw his fist into his fellow Kaldorei's face.

Within moments he had been tackled and subdued, two night elf men holding his arms as he struggled with every ounce of life in his body.

The man he had punched turned back around, holding a hand to his bloodied nose. "What the fuck was that for?!"

"Look around you!" Malurus shouted back, still struggling to no avail. "Do you not see what an unmitigated fucking disaster this is?! Why can't you just shut up with your constant 'we will have our revenge' shit? Look around!"

The man was silent, panting as the blood dripped from his nose.

"They've won! Don't you see that, they've won! We're evacuating Teldrassil, when has that ever happened before? Or anything like it? When has the Horde ever gotten even close to something like this before? We're not going to be back, we won't get revenge, we couldn't even defend our own home long enough for our own allies to get off their asses and help us!"

"They did all they could!"

"They didn't do shit! The Draenei were right there on Azuremyst Isle the entire time, what did they do to help? Did they send ships, or soldiers, or supplies? We were alone!"

The crowd around them had fallen into a dismal silence. Some stared at him, some stared at the floor, butt most were staring towards the abandoned Teldrassil. Malurus stopped struggling as he stared at his people, breathing heavily. He turned his head to look at the two holding him, shaking them away dismissively. "Get the fuck off me." They let him go, backing away reluctantly, but still eyeing him warily in case of another outburst. Malurus, however, turned back to the railing, leaning against the wood and looking back at the water.

The waves churned violently and angrily, kicked up by the swift elven ship sailing purposefully away from Kalimdor, towards friends and relative safety. Mal glanced at the nearby Horde ships, accompanying them towards the Eastern Kingdoms but staying a good long distance away, clearly not wanting anything to do with them.

Malurus spat into the writhing sea.

The ocean swallowed it up.