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Chapter 12: War II
XXX
As soon as word had reached Arthas of undead spotted near Andorhal, he was already armored up and riding towards Andorhal with a contigency of fifty knights along with Falric, Marwyn and Uther. Arthas rode infront with haste, as when you dealt with the undead then time was important - the longer they waited, the more people died and joined the undead ranks. On horseback it was faster as well with Andorhal coming into their view within an hour of riding - and it was in flames again, like months before.
"Halt!" ordered Arthas, as he arrived on the outskirts first - the knights behind him coming to a halt. Andorhal was burning, ransacked and destroyed...yet barely any undead presence, only the odd mangled ghoul around.
"Where are they?" asked Falric, as he scanned the city, there had to be undead around here somewhere.
"Were there any civilians here?" asked Arthas worried, as they slowly rode through the town.
"No, mostly guards and workers - to protect against any bandit attacks and help with rebuilding. This town was in the middle of being brought back up," replied Uther.
"Guess that has been postponed," added Marwyn.
"But where are they?" asked Arthas. "You said there were guards and builders, and Falric had been notified of a large undead force. Where are they?" asked Arthas.
"They all died...and left..." coughed somebody, a burly worker in the usual lumberjack attire with a bloody axe in his hand. Himself looking beaten up as well.
"Who are you?" asked Falric, weapon ready.
"Name's Jeb, and I'm all that remains of here," replied the man, sitting on a broken piece of log.
"What happened here, citizen?" asked Arthas, dismounting and approaching the man, taking off his helmet to show his face.
"The worst happened, M'Lord. Those creatures came...many...attacked everybody and tore this place apart, I managed to hide, with my axe," spoke Jeb. "Killed them all, they did. Then did that freaky stuff to bring them back...as those freaks. Went after the graveyards too, no rest for the dead either..."
"Graveyard! Falric, go check up. See if he's still there," said Arthas, realizing the threat.
"At once!" replied Falric, riding towards Andorhal' graveyard with five knights in tow.
"Where did they head off to?" asked Arthas.
"Everywhere..." replied Jeb, pointing at every direction. "Small groups, went everywhere...yet a larger group...many, many of them...they started to head north. That's all I know..."
"Thank you citizen!" said Arthas to the man, as he soon went back to Marwyn. "Get this man to safety as well."
"Yes, sire!"
"Uther, I need some advice..." said Arthas, as he went next to Uther to discuss.
"Where the undead might be heading?" replied Uther, which Arthas nodded to. "Mhm. Well, several towns and cities lay near the north - they could be heading at Stratholme, through the woods or Tyr's Hand, Heartglen?"
"M'Lord!" yelled Falric, returning swiftly on horseback. "We've confirmed it - the necromancer' grave is empty."
"Damnit!"
"But why north? Is there where they plan to take hold, but that's on the border of-"
"-the high elves!" interupted Arthas, now worried. "They aren't heading to attack us. They're heading towards Quel'Thalas!"
"But, why?" asked Uther.
"Kel'thuzad! The damned betrayer, and necromancer. No doubt they want to siphon the elves' magic for their purpouse," spoke Arthas.
"Couldn't they just revive him? Like they do with the other undead?" asked Uther.
"I don't know, but with an army like that, the necromancer' remains and the magic the elves possess, I fear they might be heading there," said Arthas.
"You know this is just speculating. We have several undead groups heading towards our villages and cities as well."
"Distraction, Uther. I know they'll be heading towards Quel'Thalas!" whispered Arthas, louder than he wanted.
"I thought you had gotten past the whole, chasing shadows and rumours part?" asked Uther, worried again about his pupil.
"I-now. But this isn't...it's...personal," whispered Arthas, looking worried about a certain person.
"Ah, I see. You fear she's in danger?"
"Yes. I know the undead, I have fought them. The elves don't stand much of a chance."
"You forget, that they have secrets and magics far older than us..." replied Uther.
"...I know...trust me..." sighed Arthas.
"Very well. What do you need me to do?" asked Uther, accepting of his choice.
"Take the knights and start scouring the undead that went after our towns."
"What about you?"
"I'll get the aid on my way there," said Arthas.
"That won't be enough...Stratholme and Tyr's Hand. Most of the paladins and soldiers of Eastern Lordearon are stationed there," spoke Uther. "However bulk of our army is still in Western Lordaeron unfortunately."
"Can you handle without them?"
"Haha. I'm not as helpless as I appear boy. You should know that," replied Uther. "Now go! I can handle this."
"Right. Falric, Marwyn! I need you to ride towards Stratholme and gather most of the paladins and soldier stationed there. Leave enough of them to defend it, then make haste towards the elven border and gather any willing soldier with a horse on your way."
"Saving our friend?" teased Marwyn.
"Yes! Make haste!"
"Yes, sire!" replied both of them, as they rode towards Stratholme.
"Light watch over them and you, Uther," said Arthas, as he mounted up and rode towards Tyr's Hand.
"You too, Arthas," replied Uther, as he gathered the fifty knights and went after the smaller undead forces.
XXX
Sylvanas was teleported to the outskirts of the First Silvermoon Gate, having received troubling news from a sentry. Arriving there she could see the look of dreadness and the unmistakeable stench of rotting death - the Scourge were here. Now she had the duty to defended Quel'Thalas at all costs, yet a troubling sensation tugged at the edge of her mind - if the undead were here, then what had happened to Lordaeron...and Arthas? No matter, she would find it out later, now she needed to focus.
"Report!"
"Undead spotted near the edge of our borders. They've smashed through and have established a foot-hold over the ridge," spoke a bowman.
"How many?" asked Sylvanas.
"A thousand atleast, maybe more."
"Damn!" cursed Sylvanas. "Okay. Keep this base secured, I'm going to have a little chat with them."
Sylvanas only took about five archers with her, as she needed to be fast, quick, yet able to deal with any sudden attacks as well. Jumping from tree to tree, until she saw the undead encampment and someone on a skeletal horse, who was barking orders.
"Hello, Butcher!" growled Sylvanas, sending several arrows flying into a few nearby ghouls and skeletons to get his attention. "I'm Sylvanas Windrunner, Ranger-General of Silvermoon, I advice you turn back. Now!"
"You think were that easy to defeat?" asked the hooded figure. "Name is Baron Rivendare - and I advice YOU to turn back!"
With a snap of his fingers, a dozen crypt fiends unburrowed from beneath them, outnumbering her little group.
"Fall back!" yelled Sylvanas, as they got pelted by the several attacks. Losing three rangers in the ensuing attacks.
"Not so easy, is it?" taunted Rivendare, as Sylvanas retreated higher upto the trees.
"Fuck you!"
"Manners my dear..." laughed Rivendare, hearing the meat wagons get in place. "Consider this a welcoming gift. Fire!"
Sylvanas then heard the dreaded craking and gears turning as several gunks of flesh appeared in the skies - meat wagons.
"RUN!" screamed Sylvanas, jumping off the trees, as the mix of flesh and steel tore the trees apart and her remaining backup. Her rolling onto the ground hard, breathing heavily.
"Not so mighty are you, without your sparkling tricks and trees?" taunted Rivendare, from the large opening, the once magical trees splintered to pieces. Then the undead started to march forward at her.
"You'll pay for this..." she warned, slipping through shortcuts and ley-ways that only the Farstriders knew. Arriving back at her base shortly, panting heavily - where several reinforcements had luckily arrived: Lor'themar, Halduron and Nathanos.
"What happened?"
"Undead! Many!" panted Sylvanas, regaining her composure. "They have meat wagon, monstrous constructions that tear through our beloved trees, so watch out."
"What now?" asked Halduron.
"Give me a moment," said Sylvanas, thinking out a plan. "Lor'themar take one group and starting attack the undead from one side, Halduron you take the other side. Keep your distance and wither them down. Don't! In any way! Engage them head-on, you'll end up killed quickly. No matter what!"
"Very well," replied Lor'themar following his orders and heading out with a group of rangers. Halduron following as well.
"And me?" asked Nathanos.
"Stick close to me! I need some I can trust to watch my back!" replied Sylvanas.
"You can count on me!"
"Good. Lets head out," spoke Sylvanas.
XXX
In the local tavern of Tyr's Hand, one former Lord Tirion Fordring was nursing a good piece of bread and a steaming mug of cranberry juice. Hiding in the shadowy corner of the tavern, a long cloak hiding his looks and face - he wasn't hated, but he wasn't liked here either. Despite being sent into exile, he still longed for a few comforts of the home life - yet by far he stood by his believes, saving that orc Eitrigg wasn't the right or lawful way, but it was the Light' way - and the Light still granted him its powers.
He was grateful for the local barkeeper here, who despite whom he was, gave him the opportunity to stay and get a bite to eat every once in a while. A Light' blessing on the old man, who ran this place - it wasn't Mardenholde, yet it had a roof and a warm fireplace; and that was all he needed. Living in exile wasn't easy, but bareable - the Light kept him warm through it all. Yet the quietness of the tavern ended as soon as a knight entered.
"Prince Arthas is here! He's looking for soldiers!" said the man, before heading outside, the soldiers and guards there following him. Tirion interested too, as he headed outside as well. Keeping his cloak close around him.
"Soldiers of Tyr's Hand! Knights, paladins! I request your aid, for a danger much greater than those of the orcs that we had faced ages ago! Undead, horrendous creatures, who slaughter our people and raise them into their undead ranks for their horrendous goals! Some of you have heard of them, some of you have fought them, some of you might have seen your loved ones die at their hand! Now I ask your aid to ride with me! Ride north, where their army is headed! Why you ask? To eliminate this threat, so they would never threaten our lands ever again! Who of you will ride with me?!" boomed Arthas' voice to the gathered men, who yelled in approval, all except for one man.
"The elves live in the north!" came the voice of High General Abbendis, realizing Arthas' true intent, the cheering stopping at that statement. "Why should we ride to their aid? They left the Alliance, like the Gilneans! Let them rot for all I care!"
Before Arthas could reply to the General' statement a voice came out.
"I'll ride...if you provide me with a horse," spoke Tirion, infront of the mounted Arthas.
"You...I remember you..." said Arthas, dismounting and removing his helmet. "...Tirion Fordring..."
"That I be..."
"You aren't welcome here, Tirion..." spat Abbendis, angry at seeing him here. Some of the men as well not looking pleased to see an orc sympathizer here.
"...I wasn't speaking to you. I heard the Prince was looking for men..." replied Tirion. "...and I still uphold to protect the innocent..."
"Says who?" asked Abbendis, walking over to Tirion. "...symphatizer!"
"Enough!" roared Arthas, drawing out Athe'mar and glowing in a bright aura, scaring the battle-hardened men around them, even shocking the High General. All except for Tirion - who felt the holy might of the Prince, it felt strengthening.
"These aren't you mindless orcs, High General!" spoke Arthas at General Abbendis. "These are monstrous beasts, the like which you haven't ever seen! They are merciless, endless, fearless - they attack and kill, any men you fight with, be they dead-loyal or fanatical mean nothing. They will kill them and raise them to serve them, any former loyalty is for naught. They will be ordered to kill you...and they WILL follow it!"
"But if you won't ride with me to help our allies, or out of justice, or duty to help the weak and innocent. Then by the Light, to it for atleast yourselves, for you children and their future! So they, might not have to face the horrors or hordes of the undead or dead elves who will seek out your children in their undeath! Will the great warriors of Lordaeron ride with me? Or does an ex-Lord have more honour than the entire army of our nation?!"
XXX
Sylvanas was getting more and more exhausted as the Baron' attacks kept on coming. His meat wagons tore apart the trees blocking their routes and his skeletons and ghouls tore apart her rangers. He was advancing rapidly and slaughtered anybody in his way. Contact with Lor'themar and Halduron had been cut off, yet she still saw attacks coming on the undead' sides, so there was a good chance that they were still alive: Halduron being the second-best archer in Quel'Thalas and Lor'themar being both a skilled bowman and swordsmaster - they wouldn't go down easily. For now she was gambling on withering down the undead, but they attacked in vast groups - inflicting more casualties on her forces, than on theirs. She hated to think about it, yet Sylvanas feared that the First Silvermoon Gate would be breached.
"Nathanos! Status?" asked Sylvanas, raining arrows from across a river, while several elven swordsmen held the bridge.
"Badly! Too many wounded! We can't hold!" replied Nathanos.
"Halduron? Lor'themar?"
"We can't reach them! Neither can they! Luckily the undead are focusing the bulk on us, so they're mostly safe," he replied.
"How far are our reinforcements?"
"They won't make it in time! We need to head to the Second Silvermoon Gate!"
"We can still hold this bridge!" replied Sylvanas, only for an abomination to clear-out the remaining swordsmen, smashing them apart and scattering their bodies into the river. "Damn. Fall back to the Gate! Fall back!"
"Forward!" roared Rivendare, ontop of his mount, as the elven defenders were massacred. "Leave none alive!"
Sylvanas rushed back towards her encampment, where her remaining rangers were already setting up traps and defenses.
"Set up a perimeter, I want rangers ready for the undead. We'll give the-"
"TROLLS!"
"What? Where?" asked Sylvanas, as a young runner arrived at their encampment.
"Trolls! Their attacking! From Zul'Aman!" yelled the dead-scared runner.
"Impossible! They were supppsed to be dorman-"
"Zul'jin' leading them! They are so many!"
"Calm down!" she replied, slapping some sense into the scared elf. Then the frightness hit her as well. "Many?"
"I fear...that it might be a city-full of them," said the runner.
"Sylvanas?"
"They are breaking through!"
"Give me a moment!" screamed Sylvanas, as she tried to gather her thoughts. Undead on one side, trolls between behind her - she now needed to retreat, yet that would doom some of her rangers and the people who lived at the outskirts to their dead. That kind of thought brought tears to her eyes, yet she needed to act before she lost everything. "Retreat."
"Ranger-General?"
"What about Lor'themar, Halduron and the people living in the outskirts?" added another ranger suprised.
"Abandon this base...or abandon any chance of saving Quel'Thalas," she replied, pained at her choice. "Because the trolls attack just cut our forces in half and the undead will eat up our halved one - namely us. Move or we're all going to die!"
"You heard the Ranger-General. Retreat! To the secondary base," urged one ranger, the rest following.
"Sylvanas? Are you sure?" asked Nathanos as they retreated.
"The undead infront of us, the trolls behind us - we'll be torn apart," replied Sylvanas, as she retreated.
"Continue running, little elf. You won't get far," muttered Rivendare, as he eyed the rangers retreat back. Their mighty Gate easily taken. Seemed that the dreadlord had managed to complete his mission.
"Baron, what of the elves on the outskirts?" asked a nearby acolyte.
"Leave them to the trolls. We have our of own agenda to complete," said Rivendare, urging the undead forward, as he charged after the elves on his undead steed.
XXX
"This...does not look good," said General Abbendis, as he rode after the Prince, along with five hundreds knights and paladins from Tyr's Hand. Having the insult of working with a symphatizer and to spill blood for the elves, who had left the Alliance in their vast pride and arrogance. Yet when he saw the blighted land, trees and smelled the rotting stench, his mood changed instantly and his anger vanished in a second. 'Thank the Light that I left Brigitte behind.'
"This is just the warning before you face against the undead hordes," replied Arthas, dead-calm.
"These are just rumours, right?" he asked, reinging in his horse - he hadn't seen much activity against the undead, only rumours that his soldiers spoke.
"High General, I've faced them, fought them and have killed my own raised people. I wish, that they were just rumours," replied Arthas, sending a few shivers up some soldiers, as some had heard rumours of the Prince' travels and they did not sound pleasant.
"Hail, Prince Arthas!" came Falric' voice, from the road.
"You too Commander. You brought friends?"
"That I did," replied Falric, with one thousand five hundreds Lordaeron' finest with him.
"We also have two great paladins with us today," spoke up Marwyn, arriving on horseback with two paladins behind him on horses. "Highlord Alexandros Mograine and Lord Commander Saidan Dathrohan of the Silver Hand."
"Glad to have you two with us," replied Arthas, joyed to see two of Lordaeron' heroes with them.
"We serve the Light and we heard your call," said Highlord Mograine. "We heard it was dire."
"Indeed!"
"What might you be doing here, Tirion?!" asked Saidan, upon seeing Tirion here.
"He is with us!" replied Arthas, breaking up the two men and their soon-to-be fight. "I need men of strength and skill, every man counts now; past actions irrelevant. Look at this land, what afflicts it and beyond, a deadly menace awaits us there. Make no mistake, this will be dangerous and you may die. If any you have any objections...then you are free to turn around and leave. Yet I warn you, that whatever is happening beyond, might one day come to Lordaeron as well and...I dare speak no further from there..."
"Any objections?" repeated Arthas, looking over his army - two thousand strong, none had left or voiced any discomforts or displeasures. "Good men. With me! For the Alliance!"
"For the Alliance!"
"Forward!" roared Arthas, as they started their ride towards the elven border and towards the Scourge army.
XXX
A/N: Barons, speeches and intresting semi-characters...
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