Apocalypse

Chapter One: Turncoat

Arthas was infuriated. Just a mere few hours ago, he and his Lord had been steps away from dominion over the whole of Azeroth. He would have had armies of the undead at his beck and call; no force existed that could have opposed the might of the Scourge. The Night Elves were of no threat; with the demigod Cenarius dead, slain at the hands of the orcs, they would have posed no threat to his forces. The last remnants of humanity were scattered and broken; it would have been easy to trod them into the ground like the worthless fools they all were. Not even the wretched naga would have stood up to him. And yet, all of that had been snatched away once more, with the Lich King and much of his power once again encased within the Frozen Throne.

Arthas was infuriated, outraged. But at the same time, he knew a moment of awe for his would-be adversary. To be able to imprison the Lich King, no less, meant an immense power. He had known of the World Tree; that it had its own sentient thoughts and powers was a possibility that had not occured to him. He knew little to nothing of the Yggdrassil; it was this that kept Arthas constantly on a nervous edge.

Fear not...

The Death Knight paused. He glanced at the Frozen Throne, then closed his eyes and reached out mentally for his master.

The World Tree's power is an oversight I made... I had not thought it to hold this much power in its roots. The Aspects had thought well, when they had it planted as the protector of the World. But fear not, my champion. Her power is significant, but she has used up much of it in throwing me back into this icy cage. She is weakened, and would not recover for many days hence. Now would be the best time to strike.

"Then my Lord, we will strike while the iron is hot! I will gather the Scourge, and march unto Kalimdor with all haste! that insolent plant will rue the day that it ever crossed paths with the Scourge!" Arthas' reply was hot and immediate. He turned and made to stride out of the cavern, prepared to call his warriors to battle. The Scourge would march in the hour, bringing death and decay into the ancient lands of the Night Elves, and none would stand in their path.

Do not be hasty, Arthas! As the Scourge is now, we cannot hope to defeat the World Tree's forces!

His footsteps halted, the white-haired Knight of Death turned around and faced his Master once again. "Forces? What forces can possibly stand in our way, Master? Our ranks are bolstered with every soldier that falls in battle, our armies stronger with each corpse added to the battlefield. Worry not, for the Scourge will prevail over them!"

Perhaps. But if they were to call upon the ancient spirits of Kalimdor to aid them, then what you say would not hold true. We cannot raise the bodies of trees, Arthas, nor can we call the deadened spirits of their land to aid us against their allies. And I sense.. other entities, matching at least your power and strength. Should we launch an invasion now, the Scourge would fall, and all we have strived for will be undone.

"Then what must we do, Master?"

There is a need for us to seek out other champions. Heroes of considerable power and skill, to match the heroes that the World Tree commands. I can sense four of them now, by the World Tree's side. We must seek out four others for our cause, to contend with the Yggdrasil's champions and ensure our victory. You will recall the Lich Kel'Thuzad from the lands of Dalaran, and the Nerubian Lord, Anub'arak will serve as well.

"As you command, my liege. But what about the other two heroes that you speak of?"

I already have two such beings in mind.. First, you will travel to the lands of Dalaran, where you will join with Kel'Thuzad. I will give you further instructions once you reach the shore. I will send you there. Also send me the Nerubian Lord... I have need of him. He will have another task, to unveil the fifth champion of the Scourge. Make haste, Arthas. Even now the Yggdrassil's forces march upon us. Are you ready?

"I will always be ready, my liege."

Arthas strode to his death mount and mounted the horse. A glowing green nimbus began to surround both horse and rider, and within seconds the Death Knight was gone.

--

Arthas materialized in Dalaran, right outside the capital city. Undead ghouls manned the city gates, and banshees floated above the keep walls, on ready watch for intruders. As the Death Knight's form began to become apparent, the various undead warriors started to give cries of alarm and surprise. Arthas looked out over the skeletal forms of his soldiers, and urged his mount towards the city gates.

"Open the gates! I have need to speak with Kel'Thuzad." His command was brisk, crisp, and he fully expected the gates to shudder open at his word. Therefore, his shock was apparent on his features as the two ghouls in front of the gates lunged at him, jaws wide open and claws extended for the kill. With a curse, Arthas unsheathed Frostmourne.

"What is the meaning of this? I am your king! I order you to stand down and open the gates!"

"It doesn't matter, Arthas. You are no king here. In the Plaguelands, I rule supreme, and you are nothing." An otherworldly voice echoed from above the city gates. Arthas did not shift his attention from the ghouls engaging him, nor did he need to; he knew that voice. Snarling, he raised his blade and thrust it into the helm of the first ghoul which reached him. splitting its head from forehead to jaw. The ghoul shuddered, then lay limp, hanging onto the blade. Arthas raised a boot and kicked it off, sending the limp carcass flying into the second approaching ghoul, which was knocked back by the impact. It landed several feet away, where it struggled to shift the heavy remains of its companion. The knight wasted no time in urging his mount forward and driving his sword into the second ghoul, then pulling it free. Both foes vanquished, he raised his head and looked at she who had usurped his kingdom.

Red eyes glared down at Arthas, eyes belonging to a woman with blue skin. She was clothed in Night Elf ranger garb, but her clothes had long since turned brown since the days that it had been green and bright. In her hand she carried a dark bow, one which emanated death and terror. A distinct black aura enveloped the woman, and Arthas could smell the reek of the undead carrying from her body.

"You are not welcome here, Arthas. I'd send you on your way, but there are still debts that you owe me. And now that you're back, the Forsaken shall claim its revenge!" Black lips moved, but her voice did not seem to come from her; in fact, it seemed as if the voice came from somewhere behind Arthas. He resisted his impulse to whirl around and search for the voice, for he knew that if he turned around now, he would more than likely see another paralyzing arrow sticking out from his back. Instead, he kept his eyes on the woman he had killed and raised..

"You will not keep me from my kingdom, Sylvanas. You don't deserve to even stand there, with the life the Lich King gave you, traitor!" The words hissed from Arthas mouth. Sylvanas laughed, an unholy sound that would have chilled any man to the bone.

"Traitor? I never wanted this.. life. I never pledged allegiance to the Lich King. You are the traitor here, Arthas. The traitor to all humanity, the harbinger of this destruction that you see before you now! You deserve nothing more than the pits of hell, and I will be only too glad to send you there. Attack, my sisters! Bring the traitor king to me!" Sylvanas raised her own bow, training an arrow at the knight before her. As one, the banshees rushed at Arthas, their cries filling the air. Swearing, Arthas raised Frostmourne and slashed at Sylvanas' arrow, then spun his mount around and fled from the city before she could get a second good aim at him. He could hear the banshees racing after him in pursuit, and he knew that they would catch up with him sooner or later. He could not be possessed, but with their numbers it was likely that he could be mortally injured or worse, captured by the screaming horrors.

Just as Arthas was about to turn and face his impeding doom, he sensed a familiar presence coming from the trees off to his right. A moment later, his salvation burst from the thick vegetation - Kel'Thuzad and his necromancers, backed up by dozens of skeletal warriors.

"Return to your mistress, fiends! Begone!" The outraged shout of the lich was a welcome sound to Arthas' ears. The skeletons charged, while his necromancers hung back and cast spell after spell at the banshees. Two of the floating monstrosities fell before they faltered, and it took the death of only one more banshee before the ghosts turned and fled, screaming curses as they went. Arthas rode up to his faithful vassal.

"Kel'Thuzad! Your timing couldn't have been better. You have my thanks."

"The Lich King told me that you would be arriving, my liege. The traitor Sylvanas drove us out of our capital city and claimed it as hers, renaming these lands as the Plaguelands. They are no longer part of the Scourge, my lord, but call themselves as the Forsaken. I knew you would require my assistance, and came as fast as I could." The Lich's tone was respectful, as was proper before his King.

"Sylvanas has much to answer for, and I will personally ensure that she does.. in the future. For now, lich, we have a much more pressing task. We will communicate with the Lich King and ask as to the whereabouts of the hero we speak of. I trust the Lich King has told you of this?"

"Yes.. however, my lord, the Lich King has already told me of whom he has in mind."

"So. You know of this entity? Who has the Lich King chosen to serve?"

"It will not be easy to convince him, my liege. But if done correctly, he will prove to be an invaluable ally..."

--

Sylvanas strode through her city with her usual entourage at her heels. She made her way to her keep, where she intended to ponder over her next course of action. She would hunt down Arthas the Betrayer, but plans would have to be made. By first light the next day, her warriors would be out combing the forests for the wretched monster.

The dreadlord behind her walked in silence. His claws were surrounded by an aura of darkness, and he made barely a sound as he moved through the ciy. A creature born of night, the Nathrezim were best suited to the hours of darkness, and Balnazzar's time as a subordinate to Sylvanas had trained him to walk in the darkness silently and unnoticed. He found himself more at ease in the darkness, as if the darkness was an unholy blessing which strengthed his powers.

Balnazzar shadowed his current mistress, looking at her from behind. So small, so fragile-looking, yet she had driven the Scourge from their own capital city and had nearly managed to kill Arthas, the Lich King's chosen, twice. That she had done all of this and survived thus far was a remarkable feat in itself, and Balnazzar knew that it would not be wise to cross the lady moving in front of him. Yet, while he respected Sylvanas, he knew a considerable amount of hate for her as well, and also a healthy dose of fear. When she no longer found the dreadlord necessary, he knew that she would not hesitate to kill him.

Balnazzar detached himself from the banshees and ghouls following their mistress, and made his way to a secluded area of the city unnoticed, using the familiar darkness as a cover. There, he pondered his options. He could either stay and make himself as useful as he could be, revolt against the mistress or attempt escape from the city. The second option was absurd, unthinkable; he would probably not be able to even kill the woman before she or her banshees destroyed him. The first option was possible, but it demeaned him; after all, he was part of the Nathrezim, the Burning Legion's elites. And once he ceased being useful..

That left the dreadlord with no other choice, but to leave the city and make his way. It could be easily accomplished, leaving the city proper. But after that, where would he go? There were no more portals leading back to the Legion's lands, and he lacked the power to teleport himself through such great distances, between time and space. Balnazzar was at a loss.

Come to me...

Balnazzar paused. He had just heard.. Could it be? Ceasing all movement, he listened intently.

"You heard the voice of the Lich King, dreadlord. What does he say to you now?" A voice off to his left startled and jolted the Nathrezim. He turned his head in that direction and saw the form of an undead horse with a rider on it silhoutted in the darkness.

"Arthas! How did you get in here?" Falling into a battle stance, Balnazzar prepared to defend himself.

"At ease, dreadlord. I do not come to fight you. I extend to you the hand of aid, to help you escape from your.. mistress. After all, that is what you wish to do, is it not?" The dreadlord kept his silence, not easing his battle posture, but Arthas still did not make any move to attack.

"Why should I trust you, human?"

Arthas laughed. "Human? My humanity's long gone, dreadlord. I'm no more human than you are now. Let's just say that while you and I have had our differences in the past, the Lich King has chosen you to serve him. Ironic though that may be, it is the will of my Master, and I will respect his choice. Should you accept his offer, you will take your place by his side, as one of his few chosen ones, and he will grant you new powers, powers like you have never imagined. Should you reject... well." The sentence was left hanging there, but both knew the inevitable would happen to the dreadlord. Still, Balnazzar hesitated.

"Ah. I see that you are.. undecided, as of yet. My offer remains, but I will withdraw for now, lest I risk detection by Sylvanas' forces.. or shall I say, the Forsaken." Arthas turned, and nudged at his mount with his heels. The skeletal horse had moved only a few steps before Balnazzar called out. Arthas stopped, but did not face the dreadlord.

"I will join you, and pledge allegiance to the Lich King. However, I ask one thing in exchange." Arthas paused, then half turned to look at the demon behind him.

"Sylvanas will be mine." The winged monstrosity was smiling, a sadistic, evil smile. Arthas laughed yet again.

"Done."

--

A/N: Wow, this is a totally new perspective. Usually the good guys are the ones who need to gather forces from across the land and the bad guys are the ones who are totally ready and invincible, but this time it's the other way round. I didn't even expect it to turn out this way when I had this fic in mind. LoL.

Truth be told, I totally have no idea who's going to win this. The Sentinel, or the Scourge? I'm still kind of undecided, but then again, the game hasn't even started yet, and who can predict the outcome of a DotA match while you're in the waiting room? Watch out for next chapter!