Chapter 6:
"Yes, yes of course... you did wonderful just as we all knew you would." Those were the first words of Valanar as I came even only remotely close to him. I can't fully deny the faint trace of sarcasm amongst it though. "The master has already informed me that you would come. I was merely waiting for you to arrive."
Why does everybody already know what's going to happen? Why does he only tell all of them what to do and I still have run around asking those other minions of his by my own and then stand there like a full-fledged idiot?
"The attacks on the outer line of defense have already started. Ghouls are charging the walls of New Avalon as we speak. Soon that part of their haven will fall just the same way as Havenshire did."
Valanar takes a look over his shoulder.
"But, please... as you can hopefully see I'm rather busy here... would you mind to go to the crypt near the walls of New Avalon? My beloved brother Keleseth will surely tell you where you can be of aid..."
The elf takes his eyes off me immediately and focuses again on a new speech.
Talking to someone around here always ends so ... abruptly and with a certain sense of being played the fool.
But no matter what, complaining to myself will not help so I might as well do as I am told. Little left do here I summon my deathcharger behind the little crowd of death knights that are already listening to the next sermon of the elf. For a moment all eyes turn to me again as my steed steps into this realm with a shriek not too distant from a banshee. I can clearly sense the jealousy in their looks – a good feeling, something I can enjoy.
I turn my fiend of a horse around and slowly head towards my next objective in the south.
Every last building in Havenshire is brightly ablaze as I enter the village.
Few see geists roaming the empty, burned out buildings, jumping around playfully amongst the ashes. Necromancers standing next to piles of bodies trying to find out which of them would be suitable for resurrection as a ghoul. They think about it for a seemingly endless amount of time only to abandon all their thoughts at one point and revive every single one of them in the end. Seeing the corpse stumble about falling over was still the most effective way of finding out their worth.
As I pass the sawmill and head for the fields, the earth is coated with a crust of curdled blood. For a moment I almost believe in feeling a tremor running my spine, followed by a wave of cold... but it's nothing. I couldn't feel it anyhow.
Bodies are scattered out everywhere in many different stages of being burned. I can hardly believe that most of them were supposedly cut down by my own blade earlier today. It's a somewhat awkward feeling, but still... no denying it: I feel proud about what I have done today. Proud of what I have achieved.
Soon afterwards I notice that I'm not far away from the crypt anymore. As I ride past the field with its earth already turning light brown like the soil of the plaguelands is everywhere to be found, I notice another pedestal directly in its middle and a man in a black robe with ashen-grey hair, standing in front of it looking around the field seemingly aimlessly.
The moment he spots me he waves his hand, indication I ought to draw closer. Having no idea what that he could want from me I throw all caution into the wind and decide to approach, yet only few seconds later I hear him yelling at me. "Now get over here, you moron!"
My inner fury slowly rising I keep my composure for the moment do as he wants of me and ride over to him.
He doesn't mind bursting out what he wants right away. This man could be to my liking in a couple of way... if he would stop insulting me that his. He first blabbers something about a plague cauldron that he is supposed to set up. Then he directs me to get a cauldron for him together with a couple of chains and a bag full of human skulls for the brew itself. But as soon as he's done with his requests he starts shouting insults at me again...
I might consider helping him out on getting the stuff he needs solely because I want to see the effects his plague has on this land with my own eyes, yet I quickly develop a certain grudge against him because he keeps on calling me an idiot, a moron and a fool – how my brain was probably the first thing that rotted away and many other things just like that.
Unfortunately I can't do much but keep my anger for myself... He is probably the stronger one and that by far... at least for now that is. But I'll make him pay for these insults sooner or later. In the end he is only another cold-hearted idiot like most people around me.
Nevertheless I agree to his task and ride onwards, I've got a city to take down after all. And the crypt is near, it's only a few feet away from the field in fact.
Two shades are guarding the entrance, letting no one pass who is not connected to the Scourge. They seem to be of the same as those in the realm of shadows and their hungry looks towards me only enforces this suspicion even more.
They're creeping me out at least a little bit admittedly, just like their many nameless brethren did beyond the borders of this realm. Trying to hurry up passed them I dismiss my unholy mount between the gravestones around the old stone building and head for the stairs leading under the earth.
Yet despite all my efforts the moans of the ghouls that are charging at New Avalon draw my attention for a moment. A small army of disposable, undead creatures is attacking the crusaders just now. It's all so close by and should be easy to take down actually. But still they, the humans even with lost footing, were still able to hold their ground, yet more and more ghouls were coming from the ruins of Havenshire forming an endless stream of undeath charging right at their weakened points.
I wonder how long both sides will be able to keep this up...
I need to get myself involved... Gathering my few senses I turn again and enter the crypt. The stairs take two turns before I come into the vault hidden underneath the earth. I'm greeted by more shades in here hiding in the corners, lurking about for any possible prey, careful not to let the light from the torches shine on them. One of the larger geists of Acherus is hanging from the wall, with his one eye staring at me.
The man known as Baron Rivendare amongst our troops is standing in the back of the room next to his skeletal horse. I saw him in Acherus already a couple of hours ago... So he actually left Mograine's side?
But he isn't the one I'm searching for just now... though I wouldn't have to look too far around. The elf I was here for stands close to him, a goblet filled with a red fluid in his hand, chattering about some nonsense.
These two look much more like nobles that are having an idle chat about what they should eat today rather than commanders in an undead army.
"You took your time, haven't you? But well... how can someone expect promptitude of a plain warrior like yourself." The elf smirks, his goblet waving into my direction. "Yet again, I do have to say... the blood of the crusaders you slew today tastes so sweet, I have no true reason to be mad at you. I'm far too much of an epicure."
He takes a sip from the goblet and before I can interrupt him so he'd come to the point, he already goes ahead and does that by himself.
"But of course you are not here for such chit-chat... I know, Malevolence – New Pride of the Lich King." He overemphasized the name so much it let anger arouse in my soul. "Don't you dare to look at me like that! I could still rip you into pieces in an instance if I so desired, don't forget that! What was it? Because I made fun of you for a moment? Don't be so thin-skinned... You're supposed to be a warrior! Oh my..." The elf takes a step towards me, one hand briefly covering his eyes. "Care for a taste to make up for it?" He holds out the hand with the goblet in it for a short moment, not even bothering to look at me. It was just long enough for me to take a look over its rim, revealing the liquid inside of it might actually be blood. But he's quick to pull his hand back again, a bit offended that I do not respond at all to his 'most generous offer'.
"Just forget about it..." His voice is annoyed and I can't do much but to gaze at him in my sudden bewildered, he hardly had left me any time to react at all, not that I wanted the taste. "You are here for duty and not for talking..., I know." A sigh shows me how much he thinks of me right now. "I want you to attack the heart of the city directly. The authority has to fall no matter what. Kill the major and get me the registry of New Avalon. Spread the fear, show them that nobody is safe... that nobody can escape us... Oh and... Kill as many as you can while you at it. It doesn't matter if they are old or young, strong or weak... soldier or civilian."
I give the elf my usual nod of agreement and leave the crypt afterwards not tallying around any longer. On my way out I come to ask myself if these elves might actually get drunk from blood and if it really is such a good idea to feed them even more...
Anyways I had to carry on and the assignment was simple enough. So I should basically do the same like in Havenshire.
They want me to be their weapon, relentless and without hesitation. That is something I can do.
I take the sword from my back and tighten my grip around its handle, knowing exactly what was about to happen.
'Kill for me, my knight... Offer their worthless souls to Frostmourne. Spill their blood, salt their wounds! By my champion!' The voice called out, sounding happier than ever before.
Blood will be shed soon - there is no doubt to it. May it freely flow down the hills in small rivers and form ponds in the middle of the ruins of Havenshire.
The crusaders only suppress their fear to keep on fighting. And that proves to be their biggest mistake. Every human with a bit common sense would have fled the area, acknowledged the fear but not the Scarlet Crusade..., those poor lunatics.
With a sense of grandeur I make my way up the hill into the city of New Avalon. The guards at the outer walls had already been taken care of by our ghouls. Hundreds of them are roaming the area in search for food, mindless and without any feelings except for pain and agony. Such fine soldiers for our march against the remains of the once so proud Crusade.
Their guards don't even have enough leeway to focus on trying to prevent me from entering the city grounds. There were just too many of our minions charging them already. Two or three of their soldiers are able to come close to me, but they had been too gravely injured to stand longer than maybe a full second only. I cut down every imbecile that dares to approach me like this without looking at them.
It would be pointless to devote too much attention to them. They're nothing but a bother and waste of precious time.
As I blindly cut down the next guard jumping into my way the thought of just skipping that one task for that strange angry guy in the middle of the field grazes my mind. I'm not too keen on carrying a cauldron out of here. It's another task far more fitting for a group of ghouls then me.
But whatever..., I'm almost at the town hall and surely nothing would stop me from my task just at hand. And of course just as these thoughts have expired from my rotting brain, two more guards try to hold me off from venturing any further.
Just like with any other before: all I need for each of them is a single clean strike. I can't really believe that this blade was really supposed to be made of something as simple as hardened Thorium, it cuts so easily through flesh and bones of my enemies alike. Or is this really just due to my own strength I put behind the blow without knowing?
Around the town hall there is a small wall with a big iron gate guarding the inner courtyard. Yet by now this frail means of defense stands widely open and for the taking. Numerous villagers have gathered around the building shouting things at it.
"You are worthless, Quimby!"
"Minions of the Scourge roam the streets of our city unhindered!"
"My whole family was killed, where was the army when we needed it the most!"
Peasants, nothing more... Only the walls listen to them when they don't put up the effort to bring their own pitchforks to the riot. The door of the building is also wide open, and yet they all just stand on the outside asking blind questions and offering idle threats.
And still it is a good sign for us. The Crusaders are slowly losing their faith in this organization; in their religion - at first the villagers and soon also the soldiers will follow one by one if they have to.
'Leave none alive!'
It demands its share of the sacrifice but for now I shall simply enter the building ignoring everybody on its outside. They are far too busy with preparing their little insurrection right now to even notice me at all. The rooms inside this town hall are quite extravagant I have to say. And even though nobody is still in here except for a fat old man who is standing with his back in my direction on the top of a little staircase in the far back of the room.
In the usual way I do not try to hide myself, the armor would give me away sooner or later, not to mention the open bones on my arms and legs. And anyways I am fond of being able to kill any opponent that challenges me in the city of New Avalon. They are all too weak to stand up to my blade...
Kicking away a loose chair that lies thrown over behind the man should give me away for sure.
So I take my sword and plunge it into the back of the old one without a single moment of hesitation. Strange enough that he didn't even move an inch since I entered the building, but it also seems that his body starts slightly swaying forward the moment my sword digs into the flesh.
Then I notice the rope around his neck. The ceiling is rather low and two beams are close to each other in this part of the room. Well done... you cheap'd me out of my kill...
That old bastard took the easy way out of this ... so he would have to face neither the Scourge nor the villagers.
His face is blue, almost violet. So he died due to suffocation, his neck not broken. At least he got the agonizing way of dying. Knowing this heightens my mood if only by a little.
Meanwhile the villagers outside keep on shouting, oblivious to what had happened on the inside many hours ago already.
A real medic would surely still notice, but I decide to cut him down from there and defile the corpse a bit. Cut off a limb here, drive my sword through the body once there. Try to make it look as if he was tortured maybe. This way it should be possible to claim responsibility for the Scourge after all.
After I'm done, I step over the mangled body and look around the bookshelves and tables for the registry.
After skipping through a few books I finally find the one I'm looking for.
On one of the first pages I read the words 'Crimson Dawn' in large bold letters. It sounds strange but I don't think about it too much. I simply don't care. It's not my duty to. If this is of any importance for us somebody will tell me sooner or later what it means. After all..., my next action would be of far more importance for my current task: to go out there and kill as many villagers as possible.
I leave the building with the book bound to my back. I assume it would be safest to keep it where I usually carry my weapon. And if anything fails, it would at least not be drenched in too much blood.
As I step outside the first villagers notice me. They start screaming right away upon my sight. Blood still dripping from the edge of my sword, a terrible premonition unfolds in their minds. I keep walking slowly towards the crowd. Reality unfolds to be even more painful for them... they will all come to know that nobody is safe, not the villagers, not the military ... not even their 'oh-so-great' major.
The moment I raise my blade the peasants panic. Some of them seem paralyzed, others try to flee. Any yet others even want to attack me head on. They run around like headless chickens.
'Mercy is for the weak!'
The sword cuts through the air. It sings its song of death and destruction as it rips apart flesh and bones. The screams of the humans in panic are the orchestra playing in the background.
'More...! I want MORE BLOOD!'
The red fluid is scattered through the air. Some of the elder ones die right in front of me before I can even lay a hand on them. Humans are so fragile, so incapacitated ... and yet people like these are often the ones to cry out loudest and as the first ones. Insulting, cursing, threatening, that's all they can do..., once it gets to the real thing they all fall like flies and hide behind others.
The voice in my head turns to a mere mad laughter.
None of them has any weapons. After a few minutes a guard who is patrolling through the city comes charging at me as he sees what I am doing, mangled corpses spread out in sea of blood. As if one guard is able to stop me...
With a single strike my weapon severs his right arm, never to return to the body. Blood pours out of the open wound, spurts of it hit my face. The man is lying in front of me in his scarlet armor, screaming for help, only adding fuel to my insanity.
I have no intention to end his misery quickly.
A pool of blood forms underneath the wincing body. I pass him, careful not to step onto him. If he survives, he will probably become a hero of the twisted Crusade. Another misconception made by these fanatics. Making cripples to their sacred heroes of battle, even though they only survived because they weren't enough of an opponent for their enemy to even finish them off in an act of mercy.
Like lambs to the slaughter...
Their dream of a 'Scarlet Paradise' was destroyed long before it could even fully unfold.
The streets of the city are almost completely empty by now. The few villagers that are left after the attacks on Havenshire sit in their homes, the windows and doors barricaded as good as they could, shivering in fear of what lurks outside.
And the military..?
It is busy enough with keeping the ghouls out of New Avalon.
Regarding the empty streets I decide to go to the forge after all and have a look if I find a suitable chain. Whatever a 'suitable chain' in this case might be...
Making my mind up quick I take the first one I find and leave the forge, I'm not too keen on searching something for so long for that offensive bastard in the fields. I then hurry over to the large building between the two breaches in the town walls. The shield hanging besides the front door points out that this is supposed to be an inn. I should find at least a small cauldron in their kitchen if they haven't taken it already.
Unfortunately for me, there are only big ones. I curse loudly once, something only the ghouls or maybe my king might here and take one of them. It's heavier than it looks at the first glance. I actually drag it behind me instead of carrying it for most of the way.
The few remaining guards at the gate are again far too caught up handling the attacking ghouls. That way I can easily slip through. Makes you wonder if by me just walking in and out of the city like that affects the moral of the soldiers fighting there.
I drag the cauldron over to the fields of Havenshire, the chains lying inside it.
The necromancer looks at me and what I have to bring to him.
"You dumb bastard! You forgot the skulls for the brew! You're as useless as a foul, rotten ghoul!"
Those were his bright words for me as I returned, but I wouldn't play along this time... I turn around and leave him behind me, shouting and yelling something at me how worthless I am in his eyes.
I feel how rage consumes me. Taking the sword from my back, I turn again and approach the man.
"What do you still want here, useless fool? Go back out there and collect the skulls I need!"
I instead only hold my hand forth and concentrate a few moments. Soon I hear the digging sound I waited for and a ghoul climbs out of the earth.
"I LIKE GLITTER!" He utters upon standing up straight, shaking and trembling, the bright red emblem of the crusade still on the few rags he has left. This is the first undead minion I have called forth. It's not especially beautiful but would do.
I grab the last tuft of hair on the head of the ghoul and drag him to the cauldron as I look at the necromancer.
"You know what this is?" I ask him with an angry, provoking voice.
The man takes a short look over his shoulder to the fortress of Acherus but remains silent.
"THAT is a ghoul created from a warrior of the Scarlet Crusade..."
With a swift strike of my blade the head of the ghoul is cut off into the cauldron. Its body tumbles backwards and falls over still twitching.
"There you go. One skull of a Crusader... MAKE THE OTHER ONES YOURSELF!" I bellow back at him.
Not fully conscious of what I had just done I turn around and leave the old man standing there without another word. I'm still furious as I enter the crypt. And if that elf should say one single word to provoke me, I'm sure I will try to slice him up like any crusader that would be worth my time.
To my surprise the elf reacts totally different to what I have expected. He seems to be... actually friendly in a kind of way.
"What a pleasant surprise. You are back already..." I show him the registry, eagerly awaiting his first misstep. "Give it to me!" The elf demands. "This is a fairly important piece of information, you know?" He says as he skips through the pages. "Birth as well as death rate of the cities and villages Havenshire, New Avalon and Tyr's Hand and far more important: logistics." Keleseth takes a mouthful of what I assume is blood from the goblet standing on the table. "Now let us find out where they are heading to..." The elf is staring at a page with coordinates and mumbles something indefinable. "They... are heading for Northrend? Which fool would deliver his people directly into the heart of the frozen wastes?"
Keleseth thinks for a second and then reads aloud another two more words written onto the page.
"Crimson Dawn"