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Chapter 3: Blood-bound
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So the day had come, of having survived for nearly twenty-three years in the destroyed world of Draenor, now called Outland. Having fought blood-thirsty orcs, accursed demons and hungry twilight dragons - now day had arrived; the day of reckoning.
The Burning Legions attack and numbers had increased many times over since the last five years. The dimensional gateways that had remained open from the orc shaman Nerzhul' meddling littered the landscape of Outland - from where the Legion had brought hordes of demons from them daily to Outland. The remainder of the Alliance Expedition, combined with the aid of their draenei and naaru allies had managed to close the gates a year ago - when their numbers started to swell too high; yet by then the death-rattle was being felt throught the land for the Sons of Lothar.
The remaining land, along with any surviving encampment was slowly being consumed-up - Shattrath city having fallen four months ago, Tempest Keep dead two years ago, followed by both Wildhammer and Allerian Stronghold - what had become of Nagrand and the home of the brown-orcs seemed to be unknown; as far as it was they weren't enemies nor allies. Now any 'Alliance' survivours were held up at Honor Hold, their first and last stronghold in this cursed land - once a lush world full of exotic life, now a destroyed world. For years they had held the line against the demons - humans, dwarves, high elves and draenei, all holding against the tide; hoping that the tide would turn one day, a sad hope.
Now their last stand was even more bitter and desperate - the Dark Portal had re-opened five days ago; fel orcs riding into their beloved home of Azeroth, this time accompanied by powerful demons and their pets. All of their effort and the cycle began anew, with the sickest irony of having the heroes of Honor Hold gaze upon the hordes going into Azeroth and being unable to stop them. Today was the day, that the Legion decided to destroy them pests as well, once and for all. It was their last battle, they knew it and so did the Legion - their backs to the cliff, where a hundred demons awaited below and fel-orcs at the front that outnumbered them 3-to-1.
Khadgar, the great student of Medivh and co-leader of the Alliance Expedition, was found in a tower overlooking the battle - sending fireballs, arcane missiles and icy blizzards at the hordes of fel-orcs below them.
Kurdran Wildhammer and his loyal steed, the gryphon Sky'ree were sailing through the skies, cutting down any fel-orc they could with hammer, claw and lightning.
Danath Trollbane, the great-man of Stromgarde was armored-up and commanding the soldiers of Honor Hold, while as well as managing the wounded the injured coming and going to battle.
Nearby in the stables, occupied with healing was a very peculiar being named Velen - the leader of the draenei, a prophet and a wielder of the Light. Were the draenei a strange race, when first encountered on Draenor - beings with an impossibly long life-span and an even larger affinity for the ways of magic and the Light. Hooves and horns didn't to much to ease the alien-factor, the bluish skin an even bigger enigma - yet fighting side-by-side for twenty-three years did help to dissipate the weirdness and built trust with this new race.
And on the battlefield itself stood the proud warrior-couple - Alleria Windrunner and General Turalyon. The heart and might of the Alliance Expedition - one a Ranger of unmatched prowess, the other a student and friend of the Lion of Stormwind, Anduin Lothar. A duo that had all but vanished, since the Expedition had sacrificed themselves to seal the Dark Portal - a couple that had only been re-found as prisoners in the Black Temple, the scars and pains of torture still fresh in their mind.
This time they wouldn't go down that easily, neither the members of the Expedition or the draenei and their allies...
"Fire!" yelled Alleria, as the red skies were soon filled with a hundred arrows that took down a dozen orcs. "Again! Ready! Fire!"
Alleria repeated this command over and over, letting her archers take aim and make every shot count - her shots no exception, as every arrow from her took down an orc or two. A ninth wave of these mongrels and still they kept on coming - giving the exhausted defenders only time to collect the wounded, before charging again. They could strike immediately, in an hour or after ten minutes - they were toying with them, making them suffer each victory and defeat, until they were to exhausted to even move anymore.
Soon they got closer, too closer for her archers...and then they collided with the armored line ahead of them. Knights, dwarves and a few elven swordsmen who engaged the orcish brutes head-on. Preventing them for killing the archers or mages at the keep.
'Why can't they just kill us and be over with it?' thought Alleria, firing arrow after arrow into the orcs.
A bitter moment was this - forced to fight for their survival and watch as hordes of demons went into Azeroth; their last keep was situated ontop of a cliff, overlooking Hellfire Citadel and the Dark Portal. When they first had arrived here, then that location was perfect in a tactical sense, still was but not in a moral sense. The physical torture she was forced to endure was nothing compared to the thought of having her home and her own younger sisters against those horrors. Sylvanas would be strong, but Vereesa was worrysome.
"They're retreating! Hold tight men!" roared Turalyon, slashing apart another fel orc that was sent into their blood-house. He was exhausted, Light-knows when he had slept or eaten, but he remained vigilant - Alleria needed him and so did their son Arator.
"Are you okay? You look exhausted?" spoke Alleria, coming upto him, worried everytime a wave was pushed back.
"I'll live."
"Take a break, you need it," said Alleria, trying to give him atleast a few minutes of rest - he had been strong for her, now she needed to be as well. Twenty-three years of being together gave them time to learn eachothers strengths, weaknesses, hopes, dreams and fears.
"I can manage, don't worry about me."
"I do...I must..." said Alleria, a few tears rolling down the elder Windrunner' face. "...I'm...tired...so...tired."
"I know my love...so am I..." replied Turalyon, hugging her. This was taking a toll on everybody. "...we can't give up!"
"...we won't!" said Alleria, in her focused-tone, bur Turalyon could see the exhaustion beyond her face-markings even if nobody else could. Such was their bond and their love.
"General! Their coming again, triple in size!"
'So much for that,' sighed Turalyon, pleased for just a moment of respite. This fight would be harder and bloodier.
Everybody got back into their pre-planned position and awaited for the force that would take another soul to the afterlife, retreat and then do it all over again.
"The Portal! The Portal!"
Alleria and Turalyon, along with the rest of the group spared a glance at the Dark Portal, hoping for something worse to appear - and they saw it: steam engines blowing through the first row of fel orcs and demons, unleashing their explosive payloads upon the enemy; dwarven warriors following behind them, joined by the knights of Stormwind and Lordaeron...and even elven hawkstrider riders; behind them were hundreds of archers and riflemen of dwarvish, elven and even human heritage; and in the skies above rode the red-golden dragonhawks alongside the dwarven gryphon riders.
"By...the...Light!" could only gasp Alleria Windrunner - the size of the army against the demonic hordes, the Legion was outnumbered for the first time in decades.
"Forward!" roared Arthas, charging head-first on his horse into the battle. Demonic-blood soon coating his blade of any unfortunate fel orc to remain in his way.
The daemons didn't see it coming - dwarven machinery against fel contraptions was a one-sided fight, as their steam tanks smashed apart the front, allowing the armies of the Alliance to strike deep in their wake. Orcs fell to sword and steel, demons brought down by the Light and magic. They were vastly gaining ground, the momentum of their assault not stopping - many a person had lost friends and loved ones to the demons and their ilk, now they wanted justice for it...and they would have it, no matter what.
From behind Arthas, Sylvanas was raining fire upon the demons - her Sunstrider Longbow enchanting every arrow with a burning flame that ate through each mark, demon or orc, they were very lethal to both. It was during that time, as blade, magic and arrows flew, that Sylvanas spotted the structure upon the cliff - the easily spottable signs of a human keep. Upon that stood a person, she had considered dead years ago.
"Halduron!" yelled Sylvanas, jumping ontop of a flying dragonhawk that was flown by the Halduron Brightwing overhead. "That keep! Get me there immediately!"
Arthas spotted Sylvanas taking to the skies, upon a dragonhawk that was flying them to a structure in the distance - a bare second, before he realized who it might likely belong to.
"Falric! Varian! Take command!" yelled Arthas over the battle to his two friends. "Kael'thas!"
"What is it?" asked the elven prince, using his might to take down several orcs. It took a single point at a structure and a flying dragonhawk there to understand what he wanted.
"Get me there!"
"Right away!" replied Kael, conjuring and teleporting Arthas to the keep.
Arriving near Honor Hold, Sylvanas leaped off the dragonhawk, landing infront of the suprised soldiers - among them was Alleria, who saw her young sister in a white-blue cloak and looked maturer than ever. Next to her soon appeared an armored paladin as well, radiating in a holy aura.
"This is personal," muttered Sylvanas, putting her bow away and drawing-out her two enchanted blades.
"No doubt," replied Arthas, the holy-runes on his sword and armor glowing brighter than ever.
"AAH!"
Alleria heard it - both her sister and the paladin screaming in unison, as they both charged against the rampaging fel-horde - two against two-hundred. It was at that split moment that Alleria thought her sister might've gone insane...until she saw what would happen.
"Spiritus Regius Antiqa!" spoke Arthas, calling the spirits of the Ancient Kings of Lordaeron to his side, and they answered.
Two, became a hundred and two - as a hundred Light-spirits ran alongside Arthas; the before-kings and forefathers of the Menethil bloodline. Scaring even the most blood-hungry orc, the demon-blood even in their veins unable to grant them the courage to withstand the holy-assault that was to come. Each spirit soon vanished into Arthas, granting the strength and power of a hundred kings - Arthas himself enveloped in holy flames, his blade and armor wrapped in it.
The first orc that saw it instantly started to back-up in fear - too late, as the Archon of Light struck them. A dozen orcs send flying away from the shockwave, those more braver tried their chance - ending dead, with their weapons and chainmail sliced apart by something hotter than magma. The fire that surrounded him, burning the blood of the corrupted and demonic.
Sylvanas moving fast as the wind, her blades dancing in the battle - the Archon the orcs could see coming, but Sylvanas moved faster than even their cursed bodies could react. The Light didn't burn her, it strengthened her - she moved right and left slashing apart the orcs that Arthas missed, dead before they hit the ground, only a gust against their face and their live was over.
Even Turalyon, a great paladin felt humbled at the show of force that this soldier of the Light wielded - Alleria seeing how the two, fought side-by-side, protecting eachother - a single opening patched by the other, any blow blocked by the other, they allowed no weapon to touch the other. They fought in such a rhythm that she could recall only two people fighting in that way - her and Turalyon. A couple, who would die for eachother.
The rest of their forces seemed awed and shocked as two-hundred orcs were brought down by two people - a paladin, who burned brightly as fire and a ranger, who moved as fast as the wind. Sending the once mighty orcs retreating back to Hellfire Citadel.
The Battle for Honor Hold against the Legion was over, as Arthas cheered to the victorius Alliance forces below them, the flames gone and Sylvanas cheering next to him, and the warriors below answered them - victorious as well. Their first victory in Outland, against the Legion - it would be a bloody campaigning to come.
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Alleria couldn't believe it, as their once half-empty keep, Honor Hold, was soon filled with thousands of soldier from every race. Fortifactions were shored up, supplies were brought in that would last them for years, along with veterans and soldiers that seemed to as battle-hardened as any Expedition soldier that remained. More so was the sight of her sister, seeing Sylvanas fight like herself years ago and even surpass her in combat.
"Alleria!"
"Alleria!"
Alleria Windrunner could barely react to the screams of joy, before two elves crashed into her - both of them being people she hadn't seen and had come to accept would never see in years.
"By Quel'Thalas..." cried Alleria, hugging her two sisters, tighter than ever - Sylvanas and Vereesa. "...how I have missed you two."
"I thought you dead Alleria..." spoke Vereesa, hugging her older sister, being the youngest and most emotional.
"So did I..." added Sylvanas, trying to remain calm, yet failing miserably.
"Twenty-three years...I wished to have see you two again..." replied Alleria, crying in joy, as she suddenly started to feel weak and exhausted. "...and...uh...I haven't slept in ages..."
"Time you stopped being hero and let somebody care for you. Not just you always caring for us," said Sylvanas, helping Alleria up and hoisting an arm over her shoulder, while Vereesa took the other.
"Alleria...do we need to catch-up," added Vereesa, being as close as she could be. "Has a lot happened while you were gone."
"Same here..." replied Alleria, allowing herself the chance to relax for the first time in twenty-three years. Overjoyed and mentally thanking whatever deity watched over them.
While Alleria was being taken away, Turalyon had the pleasure of greeting the new Alliance Expedition.
"Greetings to you, great General Turalyon!" spoke Arthas first, greeting the great hero of the Alliance.
"I don't believe I am that great anymore..." replied Turalyon, remembering the battle just a few moments ago.
"Don't sell your sell short," spoke Varian, shaking the hands with Turalyon. "For what you have accomplished and done for the Alliance, your status is unchanged. I am King Varian of Stormwind."
"You resemble your father..." replied Turalyon, upon seeing him - he had seen Prince Varian once as a small boy, now he looked like a grizzled veteran - had the years changed a lot.
"And I be King Arthas of Lordaeron," said Arthas, shaking hands as well.
"King? What has become of Terenas?" asked Turalyon - remembering the wise king from decades ago.
"My father has retired, still alive even through the years," replied Arthas. "And so is the Alliance, stronger than ever."
"That I can see," said Turalyon, thanking the Light for reinforcements of this scale.
"Now, High General Turalyon. Could you honor us two youngbloods and relay of your journeys here," spoke up Varian, eager to hear the tales of the great paladin and how they had survived for so long.
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A/N: The Alliance is here - and so is Alleria and Turalyon(couldn't resist bringing them back - love sappy stories)
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