"Milord," Jonathan called into the tent in the early morning, "Commander Greybraid requests your presence."
With a groan Damon sat up and fumbled for his armour. "Get in here lad and tell me what's going on."
"Of course milord," Jonathan rushed inside the tent to assist him, nimbly buckling the armour into place and helping him into his boots. "A ship has been spotted to the south. Commander Greybraid sent a frigate out to make contact and ordered me to retrieve you."
"What kind of ship?" Damon asked, splashing water from a bucket Jonathan had carried in onto his face. "Did you get a look at it?" He stuffed the acorn jar into his pouch after a moment of hesitation, and shifted his shoulders as he picked up his shield.
"Yes sir, the Commander let me use his spyglass." The boy had a face of concentration as he recalled what he had seen. "It wasn't like anything I've ever seen milord, though I think it was a transport. It had no cannons, you see. The colors were purple."
"A ship of Dalaran, perhaps?" Damon strapped his sword to his side and opened the tent flap, letting the younger male step out first.
"The sailors were tall milord. And they were purple too, like the ship." Jonathan's reply caused Damon to stumble slightly as he squinted into the morning light.
"Trolls?" At the boy shaking his head he sighed in relief. "Well let's go see then."
The trip from the encampment to the secondary landing didn't take too long, and the unfamiliar ship docked in the port was very hard to miss. It vaguely reminded Damon of a ship from Quel'Thalas, the elven kingdom north of Lordaeron, that he had seen several years past. Though the sound of Commander Greybraid and a female arguing carried along the morning breeze, and his eyes quickly sighted the dwarf standing firm against a tall woman with dark blue/purple hair.
"Damon, get over here and explain to the lass that we caused no harm," Greybraid roared, annoyance clear in his eyes.
"Caused no harm?!" The woman shouted, an expression of fury rising. "Your Arcane magic caused a storm that sunk two of our ships!" Damon restrained a wince at that, he'd be pissed too. "Who knows what damage you've already caused to the land!"
"Now hold on," Damon inserted calmly, causing the woman to round on him in her anger, "I made contact with the tree beings on the rise yesterday myself. They seem perfectly happy with things."
Watching her eyes widen in shock made Damon give a small smile. "You awoke an Ancient?"
"Giant trees that can walk and speak?" At her nod Damon continued, "I came across several yesterday while on patrol. You should be made aware that we have agreed to protect their forests from threats in exchange for help with our lumber limits."
Some of the anger seemed to drain from her face and she took a moment to collect herself. "I am Shandris Feathermoon, Sentinel of the Kaldorei. Though it seems in your tongue it is 'Night Elves'." That last part was spit out grudgingly, and Damon gave a small groan as he spied her glaring in the direction of Sir Randall and his mage companion.
"I take it the mage and his efforts are the reason we are able to communicate?" The return look was all he needed to confirm it. "I am Sir Damon Ashfall, Knight of Stormwind. I am sorry about the mage, he means well but... he gets excited."
"My people do not like arcane magic," Shandris replied, causing his brow to rise.
"Properly regulated magic is quite useful." Damon gave a chuckle at her deadpan look, "My apologies for any grief he caused, or damage caused by the storm. We are not in a position to repay the damaged vessels however."
The elf glanced to the nearby construction efforts, a second dock already completed in the early morning light and several defensive walls. Her eyes then rose to the encampment peeking over the cliff to the northwest. "Why are your people here?" She finally asked as a team of miners came from the hole in the cliffside near them. "And why in such numbers?"
Damon gave a quick thought to that question. He knew he had around a thousand warriors aboard his ships, and at least twice that in refugees. Suddenly appearing nearby would give anyone cause to be concerned. An exchanged look with Commander Greybraid confirmed his thoughts and he decided to go for honesty.
"Our kingdom was destroyed by ruthless invaders," Damon explained quietly. "We were separated from the main fleet during the storm and our mages attempted to get us away from the dangerous weather. Unfortunately the weather threw off their ritual and caused us to land here."
"I would like to speak with the Ancient," Shandris replied after a few moments of silence. "After that I will have to contact our leaders."
"I would be more than happy to introduce you to Treebeard," Damon offered, signaling Jonathan to run off for the horses. "We should be alert of centaur threats, just yesterday my patrol encountered one."
The elf woman nodded once and then turn away to give commands to some of her kin in another language. Damon took a step back in surprise when two more female elves brought a trio of great cats from the boat. He watched as one approached closer and Shandris quickly swung into a saddle upon its back, looking at him in amusement. He gave her a deadpan look in return as Jonathar approached with his mount.
Seamus Greybraid and Sir Randall once again joined them, this time with a bolstered force of two dozen. The dwarf made attempts to speak of the elements and their reaction to the storm, but Damon tuned them out in favor of keeping an eye to the north. It wasn't an overly long trip to where they first saw Treebeard, but the surroundings were clear of the great tree beings as far as the eye could see.
"Hmm, this is odd." Damon and his men should have at least spotted a patrol checking in among the tenders of the groves. "Sir Randall, any idea where the nearest patrol would be at this time?"
The older knight gave a quick glance to the morning sun and pointed southeast. "We spotted centaur warbands in the southeast around some mountains. We still need to organize a force to drive them back, but the patrols should be aware of the threat."
"Perhaps the Ancients and your men have encountered the centaurs," Shandris suggested. "We should make haste if that is the case."
They rode swiftly though the tree growth blocked their sight in that direction. Entering the grove slowed them considerably, but within a short time the sounds of battle reached Damon and he urged his horse around another tree. The sight that reached his struck rage into his heart. Treebeard and his brothers had joined the patrol in defence of the new growth, but the centaurs had encircled the soldiers and living trees and even now torches were being lit among the large centaur warband.
A roar left his throat as he and Sir Randall started the charge, his horse clearing the distance in powerful strides. Damon lashed out and removed the hand from a centaur attempting throw a torch, dismissing it as several arrows sprouted from its torso. His next opponent attempted to drag him from his mount with a lasso but his sword cut the rope as Jonathan rode to his defence and drove a spear into the beasts chest.
Damon cut down another centaur as the encircled patrol rallied for a charge, Treebeard and his kind wading into the melee and sending centaurs crashing to the sides. Several centaur found themselves crushed beneath the powerful limbs of the tree spirits, spears striking down upon those that survived. It didn't take long for the centaur to rout, fleeing in droves for the mountains, and Damon found himself near a conversing Shandris and Treebeard.
"My brothers in the south whisper of your people," Treebeard slowly rumbled out. "The kaldorei are friends of nature, we know. I am happy to meet one of your people."
"When the strangers spoke of waking Ancients, I hardly dared to hope..." The elf trailed off, looking upon Treebeard in wonder. "By Elune, has nature returned to this place?"
The great tree slowly looked north. "Once the Earth Princess falls and her cursed children are defeated, this land shall live once more." Treebeard gave a rumbling laugh and gestured to Damon, "I imagine the Stormbringers will lead that."
Damon gave a nod in response when the elf looked at him, "I have already alerted our men. The mountain covered in centaurs would be a tough thing to attack, and so we have focussed on fortifying and gathering supplies."
"I shall return to speak with you Treebeard," Shandris told the Ancient. "I must go to my people and send word of what has happened before I can confirm assistance."
"Speak with your leaders Sentinel, my brothers and I shall defend these groves." When the Ancient started to move away he looked back to Damon once more. "The centaur will be angry at their losses Stormbringer, prepare yourself." And then the great tree lumbered away, slow strides crossing large tracts of land.
Once Shandris and her fellow elves had departed Damon was heavily involved in direction of the construction efforts. Several dozen houses and a barracks were being planned along the bottom of the eastern hills, to provide residence for the miners and soldiers stationed along the coast. Every able-bodied man they could spare was put to work hauling supplies to the projects or stone from the mine.
It was late in the afternoon when the plans for their fortress were finalized and another dozen miners delved underground. Stone wasn't the only thing they were mining, already several veins of iron ore had been discovered. The limited availability of wood was a large concern, but their dwarven allies had a long history of working stone.
Throughout the evening he huddled over the table in his tent, acorn sitting close in reach, and read more plans. Another barracks and a smithy were planned for, along with an armoury. The chapel the priests were clamoring for was put on hold until some more of the key structures were completed, like a granary. Two of the transports had been temporarily modified into fishing vessels under the order of Captain Threeshot, the captain of Damon's flagship.
With a sigh Damon leaned away from the plans for the inn, rolling them back up and putting it in the approved pile. He glanced at Jonathan who was in the corner of the tent polishing his armour. "Where's your family, Jonathan?" The boy startled and dropped the rag he was using, making Damon chuckle as the boy fumbled for it. "Well lad?"
"Ma works with the cooks milord," Jonathan replied, looking down to his feet. "Thank you for letting them come to Stormwind before the orcs got there milord, I was real worried 'bout them."
Damon frowned as he recalled the bear of a man that was the boy's father. "What happened to your father?" Last he had seen of the man was the evacuation.
Jonathan froze before standing tall, a look of determination across his face. "Pa stayed with the warriors to defend the last ship. When the last civilians were boarding the orcs reached the docks, Pa got hurt fighting them. He died during the storm, milord."
Damon stood and stepped forward to clap the boy on the shoulder. "You've still got your mother, lad. Remember that."
"Yes milord," Jonathan replied, before a worried look crossed his face. "What about your own?"
"My family estate was in the Black Morass," Damon informed the lad. "There were no survivors."
"I'm sorry milord." The boy looked away in embarrassment.
Damon waved him off as he returned to his seat and look at the acorn. "I've worked through the issue during the war. They took plenty of the orcs with them."
The boy gave his apologies again before hastily making an exit, and Damon waited several long moments before letting a chuckle escape him. Poor lad was still too wet behind the ears. Damon gave another laugh as he made himself ready for bed, pulling his boots off and stretching.
The elves did not return the next day, or the day after that, and so Damon resolved to wait. The third day after being visited by the Sentinels was started with warhorns and a horde of centaurs from the east. The dozen guardsmen on the ground fought valiantly to buy time for the refugee forces to rally but were overwhelmed, and the centaurs forced their way past the wooden barricade.
Unfortunately for the centaurs Commander Greybraid had formed a company of spearmen to reinforce the barricade. As the archers from the newly constructed gatehouse fired upon the invaders, the infantry started advancing uphill through the centaur army. By the time Damon arrived an entire battalion had formed to combat the centrauts, the grassy hill being covered in blood and corpses.
The centaurs, sensing the tides had turned heavily, attempted to flee only to be cut off by Sir Randall and his returning platoon. The cavalrymen dropped from their horses to form a shieldwall with braced spears at the barricade. The centaur horde had no reatreat and Commander Greybraid ordered a charge against the barbarians.
It was a slaughter to put it simply. Hundreds of centaur lay dead or dying upon the field, likely an entire tribe, with minimal casualties to the people. Later Damon heard that among the three dozen thought killed in battle, only the dwarven sergeant had survived the original barricade defence. The dwarf had suffered a head injury during the battle and been buried by a pile of opponents he had slain, and so the centaur had overlooked him.
When the dwarf had stumbled back to base, asking for a pint to quench his throat and water to wash the blood out of his beard, Damon and Greybraid had promoted him on the spot. And proceeded to laugh heavily for several moments after the dwarf had lifted his axe and repeated his demand for a pint of ale.
"What's yer name lad?" Commander Greybraid waved a priest over as he asked, watching the dwarf sway on his feet.
"Oghren." The dwarf grumbled as the priest forced him to sit to be checked over, fidgeting as the man cast several spells. "Lost my spear and shield up top, sorry Commander."
"We can find or replace them, no problem Master Sergeant," Greybraid replied with a chuckle. "Just get yerself fixed up and over to chow after you get clean. I don't want Cook comin' down here yellin' about you makin' a mess." The younger dwarf gave a wince but saluted, allowing the priest to work on him for several minutes as Damon and Commander Greybraid returned to deployment discussions.
"A full platoon up there should warn them off," Damon said, pointing to the rough map that was laid out. "If a dozen won't scare them off four should. A spike filled trench wouldn't go amiss either."
"Lands not suitable up there for a decent trench, unless we put it several meters out," Greybraid replied while stroking his beard. "At best we might cause them to break a leg, though spikes and barriers would make that more effective."
"If we had the resources I'd say just build another gatehouse and walls up there," Damon mused before shaking his head. "Unfortunately there's no extra labor or supplies to do that."
"'Scuse me Commander," Oghren cut in, patiently pushing the priest aside to stand. "I think my wife might be able to help with some of the problem. At least when it comes to buildin' and fightin'"
"And how is that?" Damon was genuinely curious about what the dwarf could suggest to help.
Oghren blushed a bit as he found the words but carried on, "I married a Dark Iron." Greybraid sucked his breath in and stared. "She was taught how to make golems by her family before she left. We've got all that iron coming up from the mine now..."
"We could have a team of war golems to crush the blasted centaur," Commander Greybraid muttered. "Tell yer wife to get to work, I want a workin' golem before I sign off on any. That alright with you, Commander Ashfall?"
Damon gave a nod in return swiftly. "Fortify it however you wish Commander Greybraid. Just remember we have other projects that it will put on hold."
With a nod from Greybraid and a salute from Master Sergeant Oghren he left the dwarves to it. Jonathan had the unlucky job of delivering yet another petition for chapel construction from the priests, and Damon had to refrain from berating the boy about being manipulated. He sent a missive informing the priests that construction of a chapel, more likely a proper cathedral given their design plans, would have to wait for the defences to be properly reinforced.
When Jonathan returned from that delivery he carried a petition from the mages, and Damon's answering words told them to manage contact with Lordaeron or wait until they finished other buildings. The mages were having a difficult time opening a portal as apparently none of them were powerful enough to do so properly. Damon had vetoed the idea of another ritual portal, not wanting the mages to rip the area apart.
Retiring early that evening with a headache, he soon found himself reading a book on military campaigns that he had checked out of the Royal Library prior to Stormwind's fall. He had realized an hour later that Jonathan had returned at some point and he had begun reading aloud to the boy, who listened in wonder to the tale. The boy was forced to read an hour every day to improve so eventually Damon handed the book to Jonathan and sat back with a glass of wine to listen to the boy stumble over the words.
Rain had started to fall during the night, and Damon found himself watching the fishing ships leaving the dock the next morning. He found himself saddened at the realization that while thousands of people have managed to cram themselves and emergency supplies aboard the ships, material possessions were few and far between. Damon had several trinkets from his family that had managed to survive the war by virtue of already being onboard before the siege.
His tent and furniture had actually been gifts from his parents upon his knighthood, and his mother and younger sister were the ones who made the cloak currently protecting Damon from the rain. His sword was the only thing recovered from the destruction of his home, having been in the hands of an orc upon a battlefield Damon fought on. He didn't remember much of the battle, having been in a rage after sighting the blade, but it was one of the few human victories in the war.
Standing upon the dock he briefly considered ordering a ship to attempt to find Lordaeron, but dismissed the idea because he could not afford to lose the supplies, men, or ship for such a journey. Not to mention they had no idea of which direction to sail and in these unknown waters that was dangerous. Damon looked to his flagship, anchored offshore as close as they dared bring it, and turned his gaze to the southeastern landing.
The beached ship was almost entirely salvaged now, only the large center mast laying in the grass indentifiable from a distance. He recalled having seen the damaged sail covering the cooking fires on his way down that morning, and at the thought of food his stomach rumbled. He firmly ignored the snickering of a nearby dockhand, the man unaware of just who he was laughing at, and turned for the long walk up the hill.
The slippery grass and mud sucking at his boots reminded him to order a proper road built. He was sure the men would appreciate it considering several buildings were already under construction near the docks. He had been very firm on exactly where everything would be built, especially regarding military structures.
Once his stomach was filled and the fire had warmed him, Damon returned to his tent only to find several priests and mages gathered outside. Giving a sigh at their stubborn attitudes, considering the rain had yet to cease, he told them to pick someone to represent them and get out of the weather. The following discussion only avoided becoming an argument by virtue of Damon's firm warnings.
An hour later, shortly after they left, Damon let his head rest on the table before him to fight off the headache. Neither group could see the bigger picture once they desired something, and it took every ounce of his will to avoid striking one of them. He was thankful that the majority of the refugees understood the needs of the many when it came to requests. Most of them just required visible results, which Damon was providing with a solid command structure.
"Milord," Jonathan's voice floated into the tent, "Commander Greybraid has sent the supply reports."
Damon grinned slightly, "Come in already, lad." Those reports were something he was both happy and dreading to read. At least it wasn't another priest or mage.