Chapter 5:
It's been just another ice cold day out of many until now, but soon I'll be on my way back to the warm heart of Dalaran and leave these pathetic tournament grounds behind. The Argent Crusade won't be able to use it anymore anyways after what had happened.
Yesterday was the big day of the old Tirion's event. The happening we had been forced to pointlessly wait for and at long last in the late afternoon the slaughter commenced. Unfortunately for me and the people that had signed up together with me there was a short-term flood of applicants. Former crusaders, eager fools and others you could only call a jest of a warrior suddenly came pouring over the Argent Dawn. In a short term decision the old Fordring announced to let the aspiring warriors, as he called us, take turns with the different trials they had set up for us. He believed that this way everyone could show prove his worth for the upcoming charge.
Sadly, our group was the one to go first and the trial we had to face was nothing short of ridiculous..., a little horde of beasts gathered from throughout Northrend.
Yes... the old Fordring actually send us against a magnataur, two strange worms called jormungar and a yeti. To make things even easier for us they sent them in one after the other, except for the worms, which were introduced as the 'twin-terrors'.
Hilarious if you look at it as entertainment, but not much of a trial for someone trying to challenge the Lich King in his own halls. There had been a time when I almost began to admire the Argent Crusade due to their courage they show when facing the undead horde, but now? They remind me far more of the Scarlet Crusade in its final strokes before we rounded them up that day with the frostwyrms.
Crusaders... they are all the same.
The magnataur was the most annoying of the creatures we had to fight, shameful to say the least. The sheer stench was paralyzing for some of our group.
It didn't take long for us to kill that giant four-legged beast though. After smashing one of the tauren participants into a single pulp of blood and fur with a sole strike, he already couldn't take too much more of a beating. And only few minutes later the body of the magnataur lay to our feet covered with bruises and bleeding wounds from our weapons as well as burns from the spells of our warlocks and mages.
The 'twin-terrors' afterwards proved to be the most dangerous encounter we would have to face. Both of them were able to spit out a different kind of highly concentrated acid. It took only a few spurts of each acid to touch my skin and even with my numbed feelings the pain it created was hardly bearable. It burned its way right through flesh and bone. The jormungar called Acidmaw would sometimes turn around and spray his corrosive bile into the group. Leaves me glad now that I dodged it the moment the creature had aimed for me. I don't know what effect the acid would have on Saronite, but I wasn't too keen about putting it to the test either.
After eventually defeating the two worms the third and final creature we had to face was a yeti captured in valleys of the Stormpeaks. The crusaders fearfully called him Icehowl. A rather simple brute, just as you might expect from his race. He often tried to grab one or two people from the group who were too slow and threw them against the wall of the coliseum and as a follow up he charged at them trying to crush them. I can't remember anybody who wasn't able to get out of the yeti's way in time, although its somewhat surprising that no back were broken. But these shenanigans too came to a sudden end as after its third try, we heard a loud crack and blood came pouring out of the ears of the furry white animal.
As I said - everything was rather amusing.
After this 'test 'we were led out of the arena and onto the upper tiers where most of the viewers were seated. Even the warchief Thrall and his personal brute Garrosh Hellscream had been present as we were dancing around a couple of monsters for apparently a greater cause. Of course I tried to put as much distance between me and them as I probably could, once I had spotted them. King Varian Wrynn of Stormwind and Jaina Proudmoore were their counterparts of the Alliance, sitting directly on the opposite tribune.
Garrosh and Varian are both more the hot-headed types, staring and wildly shouting at each other while the fight in the coliseum was already waging between the soon-to-be fighters of the Argent Dawn and the lesser opponents they had brought along for them.
The second trial was for a group of Alliance warriors being set up by a little gnomish warlock who tried to summon a doomguard for them as an opponent. I have to admit, he has my respect even though he died in the process of the summoning. He turned out strong enough, or at least insane enough to open a portal straight into the deepest layers of the twisted nether and tear something out far more dangerous: an eredar lord. With a single strike the demon tore the little gnome apart before turned to the rest of the fighters announcing the end of our puny little world. Now that looked like a challenge I would have loved to face, but in the end, it was yet another disappointment. Apparently the demon wasn't too strong despite his high and mighty words, for the group of humans, dwarves and nightelves managed to slay him without any greater losses.
After the red eredar lay defeated at the feet of us all in a puddle of his own violet blood, Garrosh and Varian again started to shout insults at each other. The showcase of rage and racism carried on for a while until at some point later a group of warriors from each side leaped down into the coliseum in the name of their kings and or warchiefs. I wanted to join them just to mess up a few more of them, but I was held back by my fellow guild-members just in time to remember who I'd be fighting for. And that was something I did not want to stand for.
It ended just as one might expect. There was no winner to this battle. As it came down to the wire everybody had taken enough blows to go down and all of the participants were scarred for eternity. Only thing certain was the priests and paladins of the crusade would have a busy night with what had been left of them.
The fourth and last scheduled encounter was the most interesting sounding by far. The crusade had managed to capture, yes 'capture', two Val'kyr, the war-maidens of Arthas. Afraid of what might happen in the arena the contestants even got a bit of support from the Argent Crusade for this fight. A total of four experienced paladins joined the battle to secure victory over the minions of the Scourge should anything go badly wrong.
The two Val'kyr, one as black as the night, the other as pure as light, were far more efficient killers than the previous opponents. About one third of the participants were killed and they even managed to eliminate one of the paladins. Then again if I think about it for a moment: If those really had been lieutenants of the Lich King, they were probably only part of the cannon-fodder of the unholy legion. I was ready and willing to take my chances and guess that was another reason why the Crusade was able to capture them in the first place.
Yet the much greater surprise was what occurred after the trials had been officially over.
It was just after Tirion Fordring had finished his little speech about victory and loss, about how on this day the Argent Crusade had delivered a heavy blow to the Scourge when it happened.
The first few restless people already standing and making their way to the exits, the air around us lost temperature fast... Everybody knew this couldn't be just a normal air-current. It was far too unnatural.
Those of lesser heart began shaking as the wind carried his hollow voice into the coliseum and a dark portal appeared at its entrance, blocking off any possible retreat for the unlucky few still inside the arena. Everybody fell silent as he spoke to us, listening carefully to his words of foreboding.
Arthas; he dared show his face!
The few warriors still down with him were trembling in fear, revealing to everyone what these trials are truly worth. But even I was paralyzed as I stared at him and his runeblade, although for entirely different reasons.
The heavy armor made faint noises with every step he took, Frostmourne tightly clutched in his fist, he approached the rim of the arena. The ice blue eyes of the skull on its handle seemed to be staring specifically at me and only me.
It was the old Fordring who first broke the silence and commanded the Lich King to lower his weapon Frostmourne and surrender because we would outnumber him with ease.
His only response was a vile laughter.
With only little effort he plunged his weapon into the ground of the arena, shattering it immediately and sending the remaining survivors of the fight against the Val'kyr down into a bleak abyss.
Arthas disappeared again through the portal that he came from just as fast as he had appeared, leaving only a last few words behind for us to remember.
"Soon all of your champions will be mine, Tirion. Those were only the first!"
From high above you could barely see the bottom of the pit carved deep down into the glacier we were standing on. After a few short moments the echoes of a strange clicking sound came to our ears. It originated from somewhere down there. I knew what was but it did not occur to me until it had been too late. Only seconds later terrible screams plunged out of the darkness below and filled the coliseum in its entirety.
I don't know whether the Crusade made any further efforts to get down there or not, but most of the spectators were asked to leave the building immediately, including us.
Soon afterwards deadly silence filled the tournament grounds, some of the priests and paladins started to say silent prayers. By then everybody finally realized that we were the ones who had actually lost this battle today.
But well, we all know how crusaders tend to think: the battle might be lost, but we will still win this war, even if we are missing three limbs and one eye. On the other hand why should I care about them? It's not of my concern if they run into their own doom or not. It only matters what I will achieve!
Despite all the trouble in the end and the pitiful challenges offered at least we didn't do this for nothing. Before we were led out they presented us each with a new belt and a variety of different pieces of armor for us to choose from, an offer for everybody who took part in the trials.
I for my part, I just stuck to the belt they gave me, I didn't want to take off my Saronite armor, not to mention that I did not want to walk around in armor decorated with the symbols of the Horde.
It took me a great deal of effort to scratch that damn symbol off the belt already. How could those arrogant orcs believe they can just take their symbol as a general model for the whole of the horde anyways?
But well... now my belt is covered with scratches and I'm on the flight to Dalaran.
Finally a wyvern was ready to take me there. Far too many people had been still lingering on the tournament grounds and it took over an hour of waiting time to get one of these damn animals. And that for such a dangerous route! You have to fly directly over the area near the fortress Scourgeholme. It's a small outpost filled with minor nerubians and reanimated crusaders of the Argent Crusade. From there they lay siege to the 'Justice Keep' of Tirion Fordring and the 'Crusaders Pinnacle'. It's actually not too uncommon for them to catch a windrider or gryphon as the pass by from time to time. But not only that: This area of Icecrown are also known for the blizzard-like snowfall and the extreme cold. The Scourge is not the only dangerous thing about this area. The lands itself can be considered an enemy from time to time.
Luckily the city walls of Dalaran are not too far. You can see the flying city basically from everywhere in Icecrown. It takes a few of their strongest mages to keep the blizzards out of the city with a magical shield held up around it, also containing the pleasant warmth living creatures need and cherish.
As the wyvern finally touches the ground on Krasus' Landing on the edge of the floating rocks, I feel a bit glad that I have solid ground under my feet again, at least sort of.
The Kirin Tor managed to rebuild Dalaran as a beautiful city, though a bit too noisy and crowded for my liking. But it never lost any of its warm appeal it once had according to tales of old, before the mages took control over it and began closing the city to outsiders. There are even a few small animals running around between the trees, critters like squirrels and rabbits.
Yet I guess everything around here is only a creation of magic, a spell or an illusion. A few days ago I tried to smash one of those squirrels near the memorial of Antonidas in order to find out if I'm right, but that little bugger was just too damn quick for my heavy blade.
After entering the city I stop for a moment to think about what to do next. I idly look around at the bypassing people for a minute before I make up my mind and head for the blacksmith near the northern bank. Maybe there someone will be able to give me a hand with my new belt. I don't have a problem with the scratches all over its buckle, but I guess they'll be able to remove the symbol of the orcs at a whole and not just scratch off pieces of it like I did last night.
I enter the searing heat of the forge, its only sign for me being the distortions hovering in mid-air over the bright fires. The people there greet me in a careful, yet friendly fashion as it is normal in Dalaran. Only few will treat you differently according to your race, profession or beliefs. Although, even if it understandable with a bit of common sense, they act reserved when they can clearly tell by just looking at someone that killing is his or her sole profession to live on.
Most people in Dalaran are so fond, or should I say overconfident, of their magic that they don't look at me as an enemy. As long as I'm not looking for a fight that should be okay, still most of them tend to be too arrogant in this city, a trait which could easily be their downfall in the long run.
Outside the sky slowly turns black as night time approaches whilst I hand over the belt and a small fee for the 'repairs' that have to be made. The blacksmith takes it directly with him to the upper floor whilst the woman at the counter informs me that I can pick it up tomorrow at noon.
As the blacksmith with my belt walks to the staircase, he comes past the open flames of the forge before he turns and disappears out of sight. The whole belt shines brightly reflecting as much light as possible, even glittering a bit. I suppose it's made from Titanium just like my blade, Armageddon.
Saronite seems to be the complete opposite of Titanium, except for being extremely hard and sturdy, which is a trait of both materials. Titanium is as heavy as you'd expect it to be, non-magical - one could even say 'reflecting' and shines forth brightly in the light. Saronite on the other hand is exceptionally light to wear and when compared to other materials it weighs hardly anything. It also reacts extremely well with magic, as one could probably imagine, especially with shadow magic. It absorbs it to some degree and makes you able to use this stored energy as your own. I usually don't care too much about things like this and I'm sure most people would never even notice it, but... Saronite doesn't reflect any light at all. It never has this shine or glistening to it that other metal has. You can clean or even polish it as long as you want, it will always stay as dull as a rock.
'The black blood of Yogg-Saron' they say - I wonder how much of those myths are made up and how much of it might actually be the truth. Whatever the answer to this might be, I'm not too keen on finding it. I have my own problems to attend to and I wouldn't say it matters to me.
Saronite driving you insane - I know there are a few people that think of me as insane already, so why bother about it. I can't become something that I already am.
My eyes tucked to one of my gloves I leave the forge and turn to the inn across the street.
Though lives had been lost today we, the few people of our guild who participated in the trials, thought we should celebrate our success and victory in the tournament. Nothing too excessive is planned, so we settled on just having a drink together at the inn or something like that.
At first I didn't really want to go there, but they somehow managed to persuade me anyways. I can't even recall how they did that. I'm unsure if I'm growing too attached to those people or not. They hardly know anything about me and I'm not planning on changing that in near future. It's probably the best like it is at the moment. They know what they have to know and are all fine with that.
With a sigh I slowly approach the Legerdemain Lounge. Sundown draws nearer and the lights inside the tavern are lit as I come closer to the building. The moment I enter the lower floor, I can already hear a few familiar voices from one of the corners.
The innkeeper Amisi Azuregaze greets me and asks if she can do anything for me to help out. She's the owner of this tavern together with her husband, the quel'dorei or highelf as you might call him, Arille. I shake my head shortly as a response and point to a table in the back of the room where can spot a little group of bloodelves, tauren, trolls and whatsoever.
Cassiopheia is the first person I recognize from the distance. The whole lot is laughing after one of them has finished his story. I stand there for a moment and wonder if I really should join them. I always have the feeling that I don't really fit into their group. But my doubtful thoughts are interrupted the moment Cassi notices me standing there in the middle of the room. Not that it would be that easy to miss a Forsaken in a black Saronite armor standing in the middle of brightly lit inn, I just thought, maybe even hoped, it would take a few seconds longer.
With a gesture of her hand she signalizes I should stop tallying around and come over. Taking my time I just look at them for another minute. Cassi already narrows her eyes due to her rising level of annoyance as she throws me another short glaze and I immediately know I shouldn't push it too far if I wanted this evening go by as smoothly as possible.
Out of options to go to and steps to take before I reach the table I'm welcomed in a hearty fashion by most of the people. The majority of them sitting there are members of the guild, but some of them seem to have also brought friends along. I don't bother to memorize any of their faces as none of them is worth any further attention in my eyes. Hesitantly I take the seat at the wall next to a painting of a large floating tree surrounded by a forest of purest white crystal.
The barmaid is eager to deliver everything our group wishes for, ranging from non-alcoholic drinks over the classics like mead and beer to food. Except for us it's a rather quiet evening today, too many people spending the evening in grief.
The group quickly divides itself into two parts, each with people that know each other better than the other lot. I myself found me sitting in the middle of both sides. To my right there is the side with Cassi, most people there are telling stories of past ventures or curios occurrences with the rest listening tensely, and to my left there is the part of the group with Seljun where most of the talking is confusing and pointless gibberish but it always ends in wild laughter.
It's a miracle none of the sides disturbs the other.
The hours pass as everybody is having fun and drinking; only I sit there in silence and watch the on-going frenzy of positive emotions revolving. I somehow long for both of the things that I see, but I'm restless to tell myself I wouldn't fit in. I don't want to tell my tale to anybody at the table nor do I feel in the mood for mad laughter either.
After thinking about it for a while, I decide to get up and leave the tavern to get some fresh air. Without giving any comment on what I intend to do, I just leave without a word. It doesn't seem to bother that many people that I just got up without presenting a reason.
Only the light from the few windows and a couple magic candles lights up the street as I step out onto the street. At this time of the night everything is quite in the city. This is the time when I actually like Dalaran. Not knowing why, I decide to stay close to the open door of the tavern and lean against the wall of the building looking up into the air. The sky is cloudless every star can be seen as I trace the heavens for signs of my lost friends.
This is what Keira helped to build up - the thoughts come to my mind as I connect several stars with each other in my imagination. Strong, yet fragile..., just as hope always seems to be. I grab for the bag with the scale and try to touch it again... to feel it.
This is what Keira had died for.
It doesn't take long until I hear light footsteps approaching the doorway from the inside.
Cassiopheia is the one who steps out into the dark and quiet streets of Dalaran searching for me. The new robe she is wearing this evening for the first time, suits her well. The pure moonlight makes it look even better as far as I can tell from looking at her only from the corner of my eye.
"So, there you are..." She announces as she finds me leaning with the back against the outside wall of the tavern. "Where have you been? I've been wondering where you disappeared to all of a sudden." The tone of her voice is somewhat reproachful, a little too intense to achieve what she wants. "What are you doing out here anyways?" She asks but I don't bother to respond. She wouldn't listen to me anyhow. A moment passes before she points inside again and asks "Wanna come back inside with me?" Silence, that is my answer again, although I can already imagine how this is going to end.
"What's up with you? Shouldn't you be happy that you've been taken into account for the charge at the citadel?"
Yeah right... as if I would be happy that the old Fordring found one real fighter for their charge with his idiotic tournament.
"It's nothing..." I respond. A rather poor lie
"Tell me! Come on! What is it about?" She's pressing it, not knowing what she's getting herself into. I wonder if she actually wants to know what's on my mind or if she just tries to be polite.
"Well, just listen..." I have no idea if this answer will satisfy her or not. I'm not too keen on a long conversation about something like that at the moment, at least that's what I want myself to believe. "Be grateful that you are happy. Be grateful that you are not lonely. But do me one favor..., don't be any of it while I'm around." Even while saying this I keep on gazing at the stars above us.
"Oh come on... Is it again about that pathetic little grudge of yours? I'm sick of ..."
"PATHETIC?" It burst out of me probably yelling loud enough to wake up people across half of the city. I spin around seizing her shoulders, looking deep into her eyes, holding back my strength as good as I could to not hurt her. "Did you really just say that?" I ask again a bit calmer, still with a feeling of disbelief as my voice begins shacking wildly. She doesn't respond, even tries to look away to the ground. Rage fills my mind. I can barely hold back.
"Do you have any idea what I've been through in my life? Do you have any idea what I've done to get to this point? Do you have any idea what I witnessed? DO YOU?" I start yelling at her again while I keep her shoulders in my grasp.
Again now she is the one who remains silent.
"Don't you see that you know nothing? NOTHING! And don't you dare to tell me you'd understand any of it! Don't you even think about it!"
I keep on taking this all far further than it would have originally went. The conversation keeps going on and on in my head, although Cassiopheia didn't say a single word over the course of the last few minutes but I keep on shouting at her as a voice in my head keeps on answering me.
After a while it doesn't feel as if I'm the one answering anymore, more like the devil residing inside my heart called wrath.
"The blood of many people covers my hands... even from the ones I once loved..." I say as I calm down a bit the anger still driving every word.
A moment of complete silence arises out of nowhere.
After I have let it all out, Cassi opens her mouth to say something.
"I... I. You... know that I didn't mean it li..."
I push her to the side and let go of her shoulders. I finish her last sentence in the back of my head as I blindly head out into the night. After all it's not too hard to guess how it would have sounded.
Antonidas' memorial is close by, maybe I could go there, or I could head for Krasus' Landing and travel out of the city for a change, into the Stormpeaks perhaps.
I take a long walk through the streets of Dalaran where I finally calm down for good.
It's been not more than a few minutes ago and I can't recall everything I yelled at her in this outburst. The first time this happened to me, leaving me not knowing whether I should apologize to her tomorrow or in a few days or maybe even not at all. Everything piled up again tonight and she was the poor little elf who pocked it and stood there as the dam broke. Everything then happened so suddenly... even for me. But it's no use contemplating.
I make up my mind to take the next wyvern to the Stormpeaks to cool off my spirit and get away from all the people.
I'm still trying to recall what had just happened, but it leaves me only with one, rather poor conclusion.
"Maybe..." I say to myself as I speed up my pace to get to Krasus' Landing, "...even insanity is only a feeling after all."