Chapter 5: First Contact
Location: Just outside of Silvermoon City
XX:XX - Shipboard Time UNKNOWN
49:52 - Hours After Impact
Data download: ERROR
System recalibrating...
"Quickly, activate the warp matrix! Send them in now!" Artanis ordered, aboard one of the Scout-class vessels that darted over the battle-worn city below.
"Immediately! Sending reinforcements in now!" one of the technicians aboard the Spear of Adun's bridge reported.
Within moments, five towers of light emerged under the organic-looking ships known as a Warp Prisms. Six more lights, though smaller than the first ones, began to materialize behind the Zealots that Artanis had presently commanded. Their golden armor kept them well hidden among the autumn-colored foliage the region had been littered with.
Before long, the energy had stabilized itself and six mechanical giants - known as Colossi - emerged from the beams of light. The smaller lights took the shape of Protoss warriors though, Artanis knew, they hadn't completely healed their wounds yet. His faith in them, however, remained firm despite that fact. His Khalai were more than capable of providing the support that the Colossi would need for the approaching conflict.
As the lights flickered in and out in the distance, an old man watched the scene in complete awe. He looked to the dancing lights within the city, wide-eyed, as the five golden giants reached their long legs over a few of the smaller buildings with relative ease.
"What manner of sorcery is this?" Abercrombie asked, though he didn't expect an answer. The arrival of these creatures astounded him. They were unlike anything he had ever witnessed before.
The massive metal creatures intimidated the old man. His mindless minions were lucky enough to be unable to comprehend exactly what was taking place. Unfortunately for Abercrombie, he was still very much alive and fully able to grasp the concept of what fear was.
Getting his wits back, he surveyed his surroundings. He was quickly running out of reinforcements and wondered if his master would arrive in time. They needed the power contained within the waters of the Sunwell to continue their experiments.
"Let her rip, my love!" he screamed to the gargantuan abomination. He patted the grotesque thing's shoulder - the one he sat upon - and it moved the respective arm accordingly. The creature reached for its other arm and pulled some sort of chain and the saw that had been mounted to that arm rang to life. Its fuel-powered engine echoed throughout the landscape as its gears surged with power.
"Do not fear them! We greatly outnumber them and we only need one left alive for questioning!" Abercrombie shouted to his minions, which included Stitches among those ranks.
On that order, the massive army of undead began to charge into the city of Silvermoon. Hundreds of ghastly creatures rallied behind Abercrombie and his monstrous creation.
Ghouls and Gargoyles both flooded the land and the sky above them then. Several lesser Abominations - not of the same craftsmanship that Stitches was - charged to their side. Several meat wagon's, similar to the ones Sylvanas herself commanded, rolled at their sides and even a couple other stone creatures that were known as Obsidian Destroyers.
They looked mostly like some kind of winged panther from the neck down though, from there on they had the upper torso of a man. The head still retained feline features but their entire form was composed of the dark mineral known as obsidian.
Fear was for the living, and though these constructs were neither dead nor alive, they were most certainly not of the latter. Most notably, the animated beings fed on mana - the magical essence that permeating from within the Sunwell - and not even the mighty dragons were able to withstand their onslaught a thousand years earlier, or so the stories had went.
The metallic creatures came on anyway, as twin yellow beams of energy shot out of machines and swept across the landscaoe. The attack cut through Abercrombie's ranks easily enough, as its heat incinerated everything it touched. Two Obsidian Destroyer's were destroyed in the process, as well as some of the other minions.
Those who had been lucky enough to survive the attack were bombarded by arrows. Some were bathed in a white light while others had a glow that was as black as night. Most of the Gargoyle's that occupied the metallic birds attention were injured in the attack, by either type of arrow.
The remaining ones landed into any enemy that stood within four hundred meters of where the archers were positioned. The respective Forsaken and Blood Elf rangers that shot at them were too well hidden to be seen.
Even still, some of Abercrombie's minions managed to push through. Though more were slain by the Blood Knights who took up the front line alongside Lor'themar Theron, Abercrombie's horde of undead was simply too much. Ghouls, and Geists, Gargoyles and Destroyers, not to mention a cadre of other vile things. The Elven blades, however, were nothing in comparison to the gigantic, four-legged, metallic constructs that they were now somehow in control of, but even still some of the smaller undead had managed to rush under them regardless.
The old man quickly realized that he would need to destroy the strangers relatively quickly if he hoped to win that day. If he failed, they would continue to rip through the remainder of his army with relative ease.
As field commander, Artanis watched how the battle proceeded. He piloted a Scout several hundred meters above the city that their Observers had learned was called Silvermoon.
If this were a battle against the Zerg, the tactic would have likely failed almost immediately. They simply wouldn't have had the numbers to hold a line for long.
It astounded Artanis how similar some of these creatures truly were to the Zerg. This plague of undeath had adapted itself to infect nearly every species on the face of that world. As such, they had a remarkable understanding of different cultures and somehow they could counter several of his warrior's attacks.
The Khalai in particular had a hard time channeling any sort of lightning bolt against the Obsidian Destroyer's. The stone creatures would bat their wings and somehow redirect the lightning elsewhere. Even his five mighty Colossi couldn't seem to take the other feline creatures down, as they had somehow learned to deflect the energy beams that the mechanical construct shot at them.
Artanis had heard that the Xel'Naga had fathered other races amongst the cosmos and wondered if they hadn't gifted them with some sort of 'Purity' like they had with the Zerg and themselves. Looking at the battle thus far though, the creatures were no more than flesh and bone as their weapons tore through them with relative ease.
A smarter creature would have recognized a lost cause when they saw it, but these undead continued to come for them without even the slightest hesitation. It mattered little, however, as the Colossi burned up the smaller rotting things as well as the ones he had heard called Abominations to ashes with their energy beams.
Several of the remaining gray bat-like creatures came down upon the Colossi then. They spat some sort of green goo at them, though it didn't seem to do much to penetrate their plasma shields. One of the mechanically-bound Protoss batted a few of them away with one of it's long legs.
Abercrombie watched in horror after witnessing just how powerful these gigantic machines were. Even against his massive army of undead, the golden tetrapods that guarded the Elves fended them off as if they were mere cannon fodder. The thought made him think of how displeased his master would be if he botched this all up.
And he couldn't afford to do that.
Continuing to watch the disaster, a thought came into his insane mind as he studied their unusual glowing armor.
"These creatures that have allied themselves with the Elves and the Forsaken," he let the rest of the sentence hang in the air as he thought it all over. "They must have been developing new weapons they didn't want anyone to know about. Just what have they been up to on the Isle of Quel'danas? I wonder."
The old man scratched his bald spot as he he thought aloud.
"I want a small fraction of you to stay put, and keep their attention on you. The rest of us will march to Quel'danas and claim the power of the Sunwell for ourselves," he said matter-of-factly.
"But sir," one of his greater minions asked aloud. "Even with the Death Knights, what would that serve to accomplish? The Sunwell radiates the essence of the Holy Light now. Will it not destroy us just by being near to it?"
"It is not the Sunwell, itself, that we are after. I simply want to weaken them so that the master can claim what he seeks. Once we've prevented them from tapping into the Sunwell, they'll be powerless to stop us!"
"I am worried that if we are discovered, Sylvanas will have our heads," the Forsaken minion admitted to Abercrombie.
"You should be," the old man snickered.
"We didn't expect her to interfere with our plans," the sentient undead minion explained.
"Take that as a reminder to cover your tracks then," the old man snapped back. "Unless she see's you outright, she will be none-the-wiser. Now march!" he shouted and his undead minions did as they were told. About a fourth of them stayed while the rest quickly retreated to the western part of Silvermoon - where the Lich King once made his way straight for the Sunwell - the Dead Scar.
Though the power within its fount had been restored, the devastation wrought as he made his way to the island that contained the power of the High Elves had not yet been healed. They would call themselves Blood Elves in memory of that day, when the Sunwell was tainted by the corpse of Kel'thuzad and they lost the power that they drew from it.
They were led by Prince Kael'thas Sunstrider, for a time, until he was driven mad from the amount of nether he had been exposed to in Outland. Abercrombie knew the Blood Elves current leader very well, actually.
Or he did at a time, rather. Both he and Lor'themar had changed much since his younger days of study in the Eversong Woods but ever since his wife Eliza had died, he didn't get out of Duskwood too much.
He wondered if he would be forced to do battle with him before the end of the day, as he made his way north up the Dead Scar.
A Short Time Later
"Hierarch, shall we pursue?"
"Yes," answered Artanis. "Our Colossi, however, will be unable to travel beyond the blighted path that leads through the city. They will not be able to fight on the island itself, without damaging the surrounding environment and I would like to avoid that as much as possible."
"Why are they moving north though?" one of the other pilots asked him. "What's on that island?"
"If they are heading for what I believe they are, it would likely serve to create more unnecessary destruction for these Elves within their city. We need something smaller but still sufficient enough to deal with them," Artanis informed his squadron. The message was also relayed to several technicians aboard the Spear of Adun.
He could sense his warriors approval of the plan. What he had intended to do was to reconstruct a weapon that had been out of service since the first Great War against the Zerg. These mechanized slug-like tanks known as Reavers were essentially miniature and mobile factories. Predominantly used in the production of smart-bombs that were designed to locate and destroy small pockets of enemies, their support could prove absolutely vital if fighting were to take place within the city that surrounded the Sunwell. The Protoss needed the most precise defense they could come up with that could combat the undead threat while reducing the collateral damage as much as possible.
"How long will it take for the Reavers to arrive?" Artanis asked the technicians aboard the Spear of Adun.
"It will take some time, Hierarch. Schematics have already been uploaded into the Robotics Bay but, with our current resources, we can only spare enough to make a few. They should be ready within the hour," he reported.
"Very well," he said. "What is the status of the enemy?"
"Our Observers have spotted them. They have a considerable lead over us. They have almost reached the coastline in the north and the the Colossi cannot go no further, though the Khalai and a few Stalkers continue to pursue them," one of the warriors that had been pursuing them chimed into the psionic conversation.
"If we take the Warp Prism, we can be on the island within minutes. However, it could prove to be a difficult battle if we cannot get those Reavers operational and on the island soon," another offered his input. "Difficult for the islands inhabitants, at least."
"We must do what we can," said the Hierarch. "But do not take any unnecessary risks if it can be helped!"
An idea seemed to come upon the Protoss leader then as he watched the mechanical squid-like craft fly around the golden bird that he piloted.
"Download cargo now," he communicated to the pilot of the Warp Prism to his left. He had been so caught up in the battle that he had nearly forgotten about the warriors he had saved from certain death earlier in the fight.
The ships pilot obeyed and, after a brief clash of light, the beings aboard the Warp Prism rematerialized on the earth beneath them. Most of them just laid there unconscious though a few were lucid enough.
After they had been recalled, those that remained conscious were completely baffled at what had just happened to them. One second they were fighting a losing battle and had been captured before being lifted into the air by some sort of blue energy sphere. The next second, they stood in the middle of the Dead Scar as if nothing had just happened. It was an odd thing to feel more calm in the Dear Scar than in Silvermoon itself.
The Banshee Queen had been crushed under the massive weight of the creatures known as Stitches. Her chest felt as if it's foot were still pressing down on her. She was still very much in pain and, though her unliving flesh didn't appear to have suffered too much damage, she had quite a bit of difficulty walking on her own.
Sylvanas, especially, was a bit shaken by what had occurred but she quickly steeled her nerves. The few Blood Knights and Dark Rangers who had awakened by then ran to her side, awaiting orders when they realized that they were unarmed. She looked up to find that they were completely surrounded by demons.
She instinctively grabbed at her weapon only to realize that she, as well, had none. Whether she lost it in battle or if she had been disarmed, she could not say but she quickly realized that that line of thought wouldn't do her too much good then.
"Please, do not be alarmed," the creature in front of her said as it manifested in a similar flash of light to the one that she had, moments ago.
"We are here to aid your people," he said to the undead woman telepathically. He could tell that she was their leader simply from the body language the others displayed when they had fought alongside her.
She looked back to another ally of hers as she heard a rustling noise behind her that caught her attention.
"Lor'themar! I thought you..." The rest of what she had wanted to say was interrupted by the pain of her own injuries. She believed he had fallen in the battle outside of Silvermoon and, though they weren't exactly friends by any means, they had fought many battles alongside one another throughout the course of their long Elven lives.
She lost all composure as she ran to his side, or tried to. Her injuries wouldn't allow her to do much more than hobble.
It wasn't that she loved him in any way but she rushed to him nonetheless, out of concern for a long-time ally. An alliance that had somehow transcended her own death.
Sylvanas had good reason to worry though, and not just for Lor'themar. Their was an army of death marching on her homeland that she had failed to warn them about in time. The idea alone frightened her.
It reminded her all-too-well of the last major battle that had taken place here that had ended her own life, though she preferred to look at that moment as more of a rebirth than anything. Though the Battle of Quel'thalas had brought her to her knees, she had been more than revitalized by the time she had returned that day.
She had a Kingdom of her own. A cadre of lost souls determined to carve out a niche for themselves in this constantly warring world.
These mysterious beings didn't sit right with her and she was then completely disarmed mentally, as well as in the literal sense. Even her own Dark Rangers who always watched her back were either unconscious or disarmed of their own weapons and, as such, would do little to help their escape. She saw no way out.
She was surrounded by the group of beings that she had never seen before. Their voices seemed to echo inside of her head rather than by coming through their mouths and it was a bit unsettling to her. It was how she remembered the Lich King speaking to her. Except these creatures claimed to want to help.
"Calm down," she thought to herself. Being rational about it all, the strangers did save her life and that of the Blood Elves and her Forsaken.
Sylvanas looked to the battlefield, seeing hundreds of Abercrombie's Scourge. She couldn't help but appreciate the phenomenal military abilities they had at their disposal. Regardless, if that damned old man was headed for the Sunwell like she believed then they were in for some serious trouble.
Lor'themar health had seemed to improve a bit, and he slowly rose to his feet. He seemed to be fairing better than her, at least, and he slowly approached his former Ranger-General then.
"Why should we trust you?" Sylvanas asked as she tried to remain level-headed. It was a lot to take in.
Artanis approached the Dark Lady.
"You must take our word for it," he said. "For now, we are not properly prepared to do battle within the urban areas of your city. We need your assistance to rally your forces against them until we are ready to send our units in. Do you understand?"
"I was once a Farstrider. I swore an oath to defend Silvermoon and its people till my dying breath. It was not enough," she said to him then. Almost as if she couldn't hold back the rest of what she had to say.
"My homeland still burned but those days are passed," she said, her voice seeming to gain strength.
"And history will not repeat itself! I am Sylvanas Windrunner, Queen of the Forsaken and if you will not serve me in this life, then you will do so in the next!" she screamed at the strangers.
"You are in no position to bargain, by any means," Artanis said matter-of-factly. "Though I am simply asking for your assistance to help you prevent this from happening again."
It looked as if Lor'themar was still trying to wrap his mind around everything that had just happened, as it was so sudden. Still, they needed to prioritize quickly. Their homeland was in danger.
With these strangers offering help, who were they to turn them down? Sylvanas looked to Lor'themar who nodded his approval. She thought for a moment longer.
"I understand."
"Very well," the being nodded. "We will take care of your wounded first." He paused for a moment and turned back to the injured Elves.
"Artanis to the Spear of Adun," he said, though he had no mouth that Sylvanas could see. Others of the same race pinned small disks onto the critically injured Blood Elves. He pressed a button on each of the disks as he pinned them to the injured warriors and a small red light began to flash on each of them.
"Mass recall these survivors," Artanis said to the technicians aboard the Spear of Adun. "They are in critical condition and require medical assistance," he explained, but to whom neither Sylvanas nor Lor'themar could see.
"Understood," the technician answered, though none of the Blood Elves or Forsaken knew where the voice came from. If Slyvanas had to guess, she believed it to be coming from the downed ship she had witnessed earlier. The Spear of Adun they had apparently called it.
Instantly, the injured Elves began to evaporate into energy. They left ghostly images of themselves before disappearing altogether.
Sylvanas and Lor'themar watched in shock and awe. They had never been witness to teleportation magic as magnificent as that before. They would have remained there, dumbfounded, until the giant crystalline machine that saved them began to hover over them again.
"We must hurry," the stranger known as Artanis said, as he looked back towards the Dead Scar that they had just chased Abercrombie and Stitches through.
They were nowhere to be seen now and Sylvanas believed that they had somehow swam to the island in the meantime. She knew all too well, that one of the greatest benefits of her undeath - other than requiring no sleep - was the simple fact that they no longer needed to draw breath.
"There is no time to spare!" Artanis cried out. On cue, the golden squid-like Warp Prism began to gather energy from all around it. Blue spheres of energy coalesced around the Protoss, Blood Elf and Forsaken warriors that had convened below.
Moments later, Artanis himself was transported into his golden bird-like craft known as a Scout. He flew alongside the Warp Prism, keeping watch on their precious cargo.
Despite how inferior their technology was, these natives had proven themselves rather resourceful thus far and he knew, all too well, that any knowledge of the area that they could provide would prove to be detrimental to their mission to find a way back home.
As he flew alongside the Warp Prism, he wondered how long he would be forced to stay on this world. He wondered how long he would be able to keep his existence here a secret. Truly, that was already beyond repair. They had revealed themselves more than they would have liked already, but Artanis knew that they didn't have much of a choice at the time either. Those thought would have to wait, however.
The island was fast approaching and Artanis could feel a mysterious energy emanating from the landmass itself.
He had to steel his nerves for the fight ahead.
A Short Time Later
"Keep them out! Don't let them through!" a slender, pale skinned humanoid shouted.
"Cover the southern route! We cannot let them flank us!" another said. "Get all of the citizens out of here, now!"
As the Blood Knights that guarded the Sunwell shouted out in horror, Abercrombie simply cackled in reply. He had already brought the wrath of Stitches and the rest of his Scourge minions out of the ravine and onto the mainland of Quel'danas, to the west of Dawnstar Village.
The entrance to the Sunwell Plateau wasn't far from where they were at. By then, however, rotting corpses and dozens of the obsidian creatures had laid siege to the architecture that surrounded the Sunwell itself and they had forced their way into building.
However dire the situation was, they could see the army amassing in the distance to repel them. The Shattered Sun Offensive, he had heard them called once, though it was far too late for them to mount any kind of proper defense. The enemy was already at their front door.
Additionally, Abercrombie led this charge himself - riding atop the monstrous creature known as Stitches. He swung his mechanized saw back and forth as its engines roared like some sort of goblin machine.
"The new mach-seven sawblade is impeccable, if I do say so," Abercrombie cackled as his creations sawblade dug into the shoulder of a particularly unlucky Blood Elf. Blood splattered on the battlefield which only served to invigorat his troops further.
The Ghouls went into a frenzy and, to emphasize this, began attacking the innocents of the village as well. Several Shattered Sun priests came to their aid, attempting to call upon the Light for assistance though it didn't do much good in repelling Abercrombie's undead. The Holy Light was commonly used to rebuke the undead, but their were simply too many for them to deal with.
Within minutes, the buildings surrounding the Sunwell were set ablaze and the ravenous creatures barreled into the Plateau. They were covered in rotting flesh and bones protruded from their bodies in odd ways that made them look more like animals than the men they once were.
They had broken through the first gate. Abercrombie had read that it was called Agamath in the Sin'dorei dialect of the Elven language. The event was a dreadful reminder of how, even years after the Lich King's demise, the Scourge was still a dominant power in the world.
"Do not let them through!" one of the Blood Knights that defended the Plateau called out.
"They are after the Sunwell!" yelled another, though he didn't survive much longer.
One of the hundreds of Ghouls lunged its disfigured shape at the Blood Elf and knocked him onto the ground, before he became the things meal. The Blood Knights fought valiantly but their efforts were not enough. Even the priests of the Shattered Sun had joined in the battle against the undead, by then.
Abercrombie had set his plan into motion. He needed the energy contained with the Sunwell to fuel his latest creations.
Additionally, he had heard that the Shattered Sun had built a vault deep beneath the Sunwell, itself. There they kept archaic scrolls, some of which had withered with age and were barely legible. The majority of them, however, held vast amounts of knowledge about the arcane.
He would have no problem getting into the vault, but his undead minions would be consumed by the holy radiance of the Sunwell itself. He had no idea how he would go about actually getting close enough to the Well to acquire that power, but he would figure that part out when they arrived.
His master had heard stories of a massive mining operation, deep beneath the Sunwell that contained gems of unbelievable power and the old man would stop at nothing to please him. He saw no harm in furthering his own goals along the way and, truthfully, he hoped that together they could build a new vessel for Eliza's lost soul.
Her soul was bound to the construct known as Stitches, though it didn't reflect one bit of her true personality. That thought had driven him mad and, since her death, he had been hell-bent on bringing his love back from the grave.
"Stitches hungry..." the creature gargled. Despite the fact that it carried the soul of his dead wife, the construct sounded more masculine than he would have hoped.
Stitches revved the engine of it's fuel-powered saw, almost as if it understood the train of thought that took place in the old man's mind. Abercrombie took it as a sign and commanded his minions to push forward.
Gargoyles and several other kinds of spirits dotted the sky then, giving the Isle of Quel'danas the look of nightfall though it was actually midday. They screeched and wailed and stormed their way towards the second gate.
Out of the corner of his aged eyes, however, he noticed a squid-like thing floating in the distance of the horizon, its incorporeal wings fluttering as it waited there, otherwise motionless. After a brief moment, Abercrombie noticed a white flash of light come out from beneath the thing and it washed over the ground below. The beam materialized several beings on the dead land at the foot of the Plateau, just below where the strange-looking thing hovered. He recognized the beings as the ones who had gotten in his way of investigating the area just north of the Western Plaguelands.
"Hmph... Them again..." he said aloud, as several insidious plots toiled around in his still-living brain. He would not let them foil his research.
The golden squid-like vessel known as a Warp Prism descended upon the desecrated land at the southern tip of the island. The black earth seemed to cry out for nutrients and the burnt-looking trees appeared to be reaching for the still-living ones that lined the pathway know as the Dead Scar.
A bright beam of light shot towards the earth and, as the ship was roughly one hundred feet off of the ground, several shapes emerged from the luminescence. There were several different sizes of figures that were deposited from this particular vessel.
Dozens of High Templar ran to fortify the second gate that blocked the pathway to the Sunwell. The Plateau had its own cadre of Blood Knights that were assigned with the specific mission of guarding the mystical fount, though their numbers were greatly reinforced by Silvermoon's own warriors.
There were five large golden constructs that had been summoned from the Warp Prism. These Stalkers were taller than most other things on the island, matching the height of the Blood Elves own mechanical contraptions. They looked like large crimson colored humanoid machines though Artanis' Scout couldn't properly read the things energy readings.
Two Scout-class ships guarded the Warp Prism as it unloaded its occupants and another, piloted by Artanis himself, began to hail everyone on the battlefield to his call. The golden bird-like ships pivoted around the Warp Prism, keeping look out for any incoming threats as its passengers were let off below.
"We need to halt their advances long enough to let our men get a foothold!" shouted Artanis, as he fired several anti-matter rounds into a few oncoming Gargoyles that seemed dead-set on preventing them from landing their warriors.
"We need to give the Stalkers a moment to bring their systems back online after transport," he finished.
"En taro Tassadar," the pilot of the other Scout called out. Immediately, he broke off from the transport vehicle and offered the Stalkers beneath them some cover fire. Hopefully, the pilot could keep them off of the machines while they rebooted. The Blood Elven machines would definitely help in that regard.
"We need to get them near the mystical pool called the Sunwell. According to our Observers and from what we have gathered from the locals, its enchanted waters contain a power beyond reckoning. As primitive as this world appears," he paused, as Sylvanas shot him an angry look. "There are many things here that could help us in our endeavor."
"We are all fighting for the same thing, it would seem," the other pilot said to Artanis.
"What do you mean?" the Hierarch asked, surprised by his words.
"These Blood Elves defend those waters up until their last breath so it is certainly of some importance to them," he explained. "And from up here, it seems that these undead creatures are pushing towards the Sunwell too. Why, I have no clue.
"True. They have used the waters within the Sunwell for thousands of years," Sylvanas intervened. "And the Scourge fought..." she paused for a moment, as if hurt by the words. "A war here before. They destroyed the Sunwell before."
"Thousands of years?" Artanis asked. He was dumbfounded by those words. This species had lived here for thousands of years and hadn't developed beyond the society they they had. Sure enough they had machines, but they were nothing in comparison to the technologies that the Terrans had discovered in the same span of time.
"The Sunwell is fueled by the same mysterious energy empowers the Maelstrom, though recently it was purified by the Holy Light of the Naaru," Sylvanas joined in on their psionic banter. They were surprised to hear her thoughts so easily and, Artanis at least, wondered if she had communicated with someone like this before. He watched her let loose several arrows that flew towards the rotting Ghouls that scurried over the Blood Elven architecture.
"Maelstrom... Naaru? These words mean nothing to me, but it is obvious that we have a common goal nonetheless. We truly don't know what we're looking for either," the pilot explained. "Our Observers had detected a massive build up of energy in this region just prior to us... coming to this region," Artanis chose his words carefully.
"If by that you mean crashing into the mountainside," she didn't finish her comment but she didn't need to. Artanis realized then that she had already known of their plight before they had even encountered her. She was proving to be more resourceful than even he could have imagined.
"Regardless, the energy signature is gone now," another Scout pilot added to the conversation. He shot his anti-matter cannons at two Gargoyle's closing in on his Hierarch. "I've been following the reports closely and it seems to come in and out at random intervals."
"I've read them," the Artanis admitted. He nonchalantly fired his anti-matter cannons in small bursts at the skittering undead that made their way towards the five great Stalkers that were rebooting.
Close to two dozen Zealots manifested from the lights that came from the Warp Prism and the ship instantly took off into the clouds once they had been dropped off. The Zealot's lined up in front of the machines and phased their energy blades into existence. It had all happened so quickly.
"That's what we're investigating. It could be some sort of temporal anomaly," Artanis noted. "I pray we could use it as a way home."
That last line threw Sylvanas off guard and she nearly missed her shot as a result. Where were these outsiders from, exactly? She had to learn more.
The Zealots rushed at the horde of undead and, though they were greatly outnumbered, they had been much healthier since they had gotten a few days rest in the Spear's Healing Pods. Now they knew their enemy, at least some of them did, and they sliced into them in the same manner that one would prepare a meal.
Nothing really presented them with much of a problem until the Abominations came upon them. There were dozens of them, and some we much larger than others. The largest one, discovered by an Observer to be known as Stitches, was also among them.
"The same thing we are all counting on, I believe," the pilot said.
"Save the talk for later, brother. Focus on the Abominations!" the Hierarch said urgently as he noticed their arrival. "Let's end this and get out of here before we draw any more attention than we already have!"
"Understood," he said.
"En taro Tassadar" the new arrivals responded, as several Zealots and High Templar ran towards the massive golden machines that were still in the process of booting up.
The Blood Knights of Silvermoon stood at their side. Their crimson plate armor glistened off of the sun's light and they drew their swords high with fervor.
"Glory to the Sin'dorei!" the Elves shouted together, as they ran towards the priests of the Shattered Sun. Artanis watched the event happen from aboard his Scout and the sight was magnificent.