Chapter 2: Stratholme
Jaina walked like she had the weight of the world on her shoulders.
It is the thought that strikes Arthas as he watches his future queen move to look over the ruins of the quarantine with grim grief stricken intensity. There's not a single zombie or infected civilian left standing. Its merely become a pile of ashes and charred corpses. So many innocent reduced to nothing over this madness. Worse yet... the look on his queen's face is horrible, never has he regretted something as much as he does Jaina being involved in this madness. She's going to have to live with what she did here today for the rest of her life, and this was worse than the mercy killings being spread across a number of people, Jaina had to euthanize the majority of the entire group...
Yet she was still standing strong and unbroken. His unbelievably strong queen...
He moves to stand next to her, a hand gentle on her shoulder. "You did what you had to do Jaina."
She nods sharply. "I know... I know."
She takes a shaky breath and lets it out. "Arthas... that wasn't just a happenstance that they started turning in bulk."
He narrows his eyes. "What do you mean?"
"I felt dark magic in the air, someone or something triggered the plague to surge like that," said Jaina.
Arthas feels like the wind has been beaten out of him for a moment, before his face contorts with pure and utter wrath. "The Cult?"
She shakes her head. "It felt darker, Arthas. Its darker than anything we've met since we set out to investigate this."
A growl rumbles in his chest. "This 'Mal'Ganis' demon that Kel'Thuzad mentioned?"
"Most likely," said Jaina, her lips pursed tightly...
"My lord! Undead have been spotted in the city! They're going after the civilians!" came a cry.
Jaina was already moving before Arthas had even registered the words. "Everyone form up and follow our lead! We need an assault force ready to fight the Undead and several escorts ready to evacuate civilians! MOVE!"
Arthas falls in behind his Queen, regarding her as they ran. She'd risen to a commanding role and executed it as if she were born to lead and accept the consequences of doing so. He's not blind either to how she had been carefully managing him and Uther earlier as well. Too frustrated and angry and too damned tired to help her in the process, but not blind to it. She had taken responsibility to direct since they had arrived at Stratholme, and he'd be stupid not to note how much she had changed from the young maiden he had known before. Part of him regrets any involvement he had in hardening the young woman that runs by him now because of his youthful ignorance and cowardice at the Winter Veil. Another part whispers that if he hadn't, she might not have found the strength to stand so firmly, and he treasures that strength now.
He pushes aside his tiredness, calling on the light to invigorate him. He will be his queen's shield and weapon. He briefly considers voicing that her orders are to be obeyed as if they were his, but as his gaze passes over his troops, over Jaina's fellow magi, over the few elven priests and dwarven riflemen, he recognizes its unneeded. They readily follow her. He does to, there's something about her now that she didn't have in her youth. A charisma, a determination and will that is steel. He sees her will, and can only imagine the Scourge breaking themselves upon it without result. Hells, she seemed more vulnerable to his own stupidity than she did the undead, and he had no intention of being a weakness to her.
They storm into Stratholme as civilians are fleeing out of it, sighting ghouls running down the innocent, and roars, "FOR LORDAERON!"
The initial battle is as brutal as it is messy, rushing through the streets to face off against and drive back the undead. Covering for civilians fleeing for their lives. Fires have started all over the city, smoke is starting to fill the air. As much as Arthas wants to charge ahead run the damned down, he is mindful that Jaina is an archmage, not a melee combatant, and they are in close quarters on tight streets in a city where the Scourge could come from anywhere. She is by no means defenseless, and would probably flog him for the thought of holding himself back for her safety, but he's not going to risk it...
Until the choice is taken out of his hands.
"Arthas," she instructs, "We need to split our efforts. One of us needs to support the escort group, the other needs to focus on taking on the main Scourge force and keeping them at bay until the evacuation is as complete as we can make it. Either of us will work regardless of the task, your holy light or my teleportation and disabling magic can protect the civilians. Pick and go, now."
Arthas hesitates for a moment, wanting to argue, wanting to not separate, but he cannot be selfish. He cannot show such selfishness when she had shown such strength and will. Both paths are dangerous, whether exposure to the bulk of the Scourge, or the distraction of protecting civilians while running through the city. Ultimately... he decides that she would do better facing the main force of the Scourge, as odd as it sounds its safer for her. She had one task, destroy the Scourge, and it was something she could do well, where a single distraction could kill her unarmored body, especially without the Holy Light to heal her. He would have faith in his queen either way, but its better stacking the odds as best as he can.
"It is a Paladin's duty to safeguard the people," he answers softly, "Take Marwyn and Falric as your personal guard, and show the Scourge hell, I'll rejoin the main force soon."
She grins. "Better hurry Arthas, I might not leave any for you."
He grins back at her cheek before he grasps her shoulder. "Stay safe, Jaina."
"You too, Arthas."
Its agony to leave her, marshaling a smaller, quicker group, but he forces himself to do so. "Most of the civilians on the streets have either fled or been killed, we have to check household by household. We will take a section of the city away from the main force, clear any immediate undead, and split into pairs to check their dwellings, no one goes alone. Lets go!"
Where Jaina moves her forces up to Elder Square to block in the main Scourge Force, Arthas heads towards Market Row, checking briefly in the rest of King's Square. Only a few towards the entrance of Stratholme hadn't already fled. They find a number of adults and children huddled in closets and under beds, scrambling to get them out under escort. Its not difficult up until they hit the edge of Market Row, leading into Crusader's Square. The Scourge have set up one of their towers, its spiritual attack barraging buildings and any civilians trying to run. A large group of Scourge, ghouls, a pair of abominations, a meat wagon, and necromancers, stand guard, reanimating anyone who falls.
Arthas kneels behind a crate, motioning his men to pause as he sizes the enemy up. "Riflemen, shoot the necromancers, I want them dead immediately, there is little point putting down the undead if they merely reanimate them. I will face the big bulky ones and keep them entertained. Footmen, keep the ghouls from surrounding me, and off the riflemen. One person needs to make a break for the meat wagon and disable it, we're here to save the civilians, not let them be bombarded to death while we fight, MOVE!"
He breaks cover and rushes the group, shielding himself with divine grace as the Scourge's fortification rains spiritual attacks on him. He roars and slams into one abomination, his own heavy armored form, sending it skidding back and falling over. He swings his warhammer at the other, smashing it into the undead's face. His men swarm into the undead with their own warcries, bullets whizzing past and dropping the necromancers. Its a brief, brutal, bloody mess before they finish the undead and hack the undead fortification to pieces.
Then screams start from inside the buildings. "SPLIT AND GO!"
He doesn't bother waiting to see if anyone specifically joins him, he bum rushes towards the nearest building, elbowing through a partially broken door and finding a ghoul nuzzling into a woman's abdomen, bloody face twisting back and forth, ripping and tearing with guts in its mouth as the woman screams in agony. Arthas roars in frustration and slams his warhammer into the ghoul's side, sending it flying into the wall, the woman's innards dragged with it, before he blasts it with holy light. He kneels next to the sobbing dying woman as she spits up blood, sensing with his light, and finding the flickering of taint spreading from his wound. Even if he poured all of himself into healing her fatal wound, it wouldn't matter. "Dammit... I'm sorry."
To damn late.
She shakily points to a closet echoing the faint sounds of whimpering. "D-daughter... please..."
Arthas rushes to the closet and throws it open, finding a cowering peasant girl. "Its alright young one, I am Prince Arthas Menethil, I am here to protect you."
The girl chokes out, "M..mama..."
Arthas places his warhammer on his back and picks up the girl. "I'm sorry young one, I'm so sorry, close your eyes."
The girl does so, burying her face in the cloth hanging from his cauldrons, sobbing into them. He wraps a protective arm around her, gives the dying mother on the ground a grief stricken nod, and runs. It would have been a kindness to put her out of her misery, but not with the child there to see or hear it. He exits the building, spotting others of his men doing the same from more. They link up with a large cluster of civilians and begin the next escort run. Ghouls run out of alleyways, skeletal archers shoot from windows, abominations lumbering into view, and Arthas swears aloud.
"Don't stop to fight! Defensive perimeter and shove through!"
Arthas closes his eyes as he runs, sucking in his breath, clutching the girl tighter, and heavily calls upon the light in his moment of need. "LIGHT!"
He waves a hand, desperate in his faith, and light erupts in a wave, throwing ghouls away and sending the abomination sprawling. Arthas's vision blurs at the heavy expenditure, stumbling a bit, but regains his footing and leaps over the abomination, barely missing its cleaver at it swings up at him. The rest of the men and civilians swerve around it as it tries clumsily to regain its footing. The rush into King's Square, breaking free of the ambush, and make for the entrance. They exit the city and drop the civilians off with a huge chunk of waiting men and civilians before rushing back in.
The ambush force is gone when they return to Market Row. They are wary, until they hear the sounds of combat further in. They rush into Crusader's Square, spotting a number of footmen and, to Arthas's surprise, a fellow Paladin, blocking entryway into the Stratholme Bastion. "Brother!"
The man glances over at him, his face sweating heavily. "P-prince Arthas! Light be praised, reinforcements."
Something is wrong with the man.
Arthas can feel it immediately. His forces rush into the fray, helping to clear it away, but when he approaches, the Paladin falls to his knees, clutching at his heart. "Whats wrong?"
"My damn accursed father," spat the man, "I am Aurius Rivendare, son of..."
"Baron Rivendare, I know the man," answered Arthas with confusion.
"He's betrayed us!" spat Aurius, "He is the one who let the Scourges forces into the city and allowed them to set up. They have made a base deep in the city past Elder's Square. He... he inflicted some kind of dark curse upon me, his own flesh and blood, when I refused to follow his madness, I only survive off the lights blessing."
Arthas's vision burns with fury at the treachery. "Is he still here?"
"He fled when I didn't immediately fall to the curse," said Aurius scowling, "I... I was going to try and help the bastion evacuate before I perish, or perhaps... perhaps the light of the Alonsus Chapel may stay the hand of the curse."
"Can you not cleanse it?"
"It's far beyond my abilities, brother," said Aurius, breathing labored, "I don't have much time before I have to make my choice, we must get the civilians in the Bastion out. The whole damn city is going to burn at this rate."
"Right," said Arthas, hesitating, "After we get them out, get to the chapel and stay there. Perhaps Uther can do something for you."
Aurius takes in a deep breath, and lets it out, standing out of sheer will. "Lets move."
A runner goes through the bastion, hollering for all personnel and civilians to evacuate, and Arthas raises an eyebrow at the huge number that piles out, easily hundreds. "This is going to be a mess to protect."
"I know," muttered Aurius, "I will hold the rear and beat back any that chase us down, let your light be the one that pushes us through."
"For the Light.
"And for Lordaeron.
They move as a large stream, Arthas's own guards along with the bastion's stretched thin. Arthas is at the forfront of the group, and he already spots a number of Scourge gathering in Market Square to try and challenge them, a cluster of acolytes attempting to summon in fortifications. Arthas grunts at that, raises his warhammer, and charges, into the fray. He shields himself in divine grace, plowing through and making for the acolyte, beating them down, and then shoving his glowing warhammer into the ghostly structures starting to form, disrupting and destroying them before they can be made...
Then more people join the fight, and Arthas is briefly surprised to see civilians with swords, pitchforks, wooden planks, even chairs of all things, swarming over the lesser undead and beating them down. A fierce pride fills him at his people's fury and courage. Arthas takes on the lone abomination, containing it until they surround and kill it. Their massive group spills out into King's Square, and rushes like a tide through the street towards the entrance. Arthas escorts them until they cross the bridge, then runs back, finding Aurius leaning against the open gate, huffing with exertion and pain. Arthas throws the man's arm over his shoulder, and starts moving back into the city, his men falling in behind him.
"That's the majority of this side of Statholme, we move to join Lady Proudmoore and the main force!" he calls out.
"Lets give the undead hell!"
He grins and moves as quickly as he can, down the empty and aflame Festival Lanes, into Elder Square. He sights a heavy line of footmen holding position on the pathway into the Gauntlet, funneling the undead trying to breech through into a single killzone. Jaina stands with her back to him, hand glowing and calling down sheets of ice down upon the undead. Body parts of the undead litter Elder Square along with the fallen.
"Brother, wait," asks Aurius, "They might not be too far gone."
Arthas pauses and sizes him up. "Are you sure you have it in you?"
"It is a paladin's duty," rasps Aurius, and Arthas nods with understanding and grim approval.
They raise a hand apiece into the air and cry out for the Light. The Light of Redemption shines down from above, and a number of the fallen gasp awake, wounds mended enough to fight, spirits recalled to their bodies. A cheer goes through them briefly drawing Jaina's attention, she smiles at him, gives Aurius a briefly curious and baffled look, before refocusing on her task.
Aurius buckles to his knees, and Arthas curses, dragging him to and into Alonsus Chapel, noting the single form of a priest the churches only remaining occupant. "My brother needs aid!"
The priest rushes over as Arthas rests Aurius into a pew. "I will look after him prince Arthas."
Arthas nods crisply, once at the priest, once at Aurius, and leaves, his duty to his fellow paladin done. He will mention the man to Uther, and should Aurius live long enough, hopefully the Lightbringer may have the power to save him. He marches over to Jaina.
"I see you left some for me."
She grins at him. "Just a few. I wasn't aware there was another Paladin here."
"Aurius Rivendare, his father turned traitor and afflicted some kind of curse on him, he's resting in the chapel until we can bring someone to cleanse the curse," explained Arthas.
Jaina's eyebrows furrowed in thought before she slowly nodded. "I see."
Arthas drew his warhammer from his back. "He told me it was Baron Rivendare who let the Scourge set up a base inside the city, Aurius said he fled. He may escape today, but one day there will be a reckoning."
Jaina's face contorted with fury. "That there will be."
"Now, lets break through this mess and bring an end to this," snarled Arthas, charging for the killzone, shielding himself once more in a shield of the divine, and begins to drive back the undead.
Inch by bloody inch they shove out of Elder's Square, and into the Gauntlet...
Then it stopped, and all of the sudden the dead fell back...
Arthas, Jaina, the captains and their men slowly, carefully made their way to the now eerily quiet and bloody Gauntlet...
Arthas tensed as a green circle of power appeared a ways infront of them, and out of it appeared a monster. It was gigantic, twice the size of a man, armored neck to cloven toe in black and purple armor of a sinister design. Its head was only slightly humanlike in structure, with glowing green eyes and pointed ears, a mouth and a nose, but any similarities ended there. Its paleness rivaled the undead they had fought, demonic horns came out its forehead. It had claw-like fingers, sharp and deadly. Sprouting from its back was gigantic purple wings with horns on the top of them. Its mere presence was nauseating, his warhammer shined brightly and angrily in defiance of the foul creature.
There was only one thing this monstrosity could be...
"I've been waiting for you, young prince, I am Mal'Ganis."
The voice was deep, dark, mocking...
It snapped its fingers, and Arthas took in a sharp breath as the sickly form of an ill, plagued woman appeared next to the demon. It ran a claw through her hair, blood running down her forehead as she sobbed. The demon drove its talon through the back of her, erupting on the other side with a sickening spray of blood before lobbing her across the square until she came to a stop. Then her dead form twisted, an unholy glow illuminating her eyes as she rose and lunged for Arthas...
Jaina put down the tormented soul before Arthas could even begin to lift his warhammer.
"As you can see, your people are now mine. Your paltry efforts have saved only a few compared to what remains. I will now turn what is left of this city household by household, spilling out to run down those you have supposedly saved, until the flame of life has been snuffed out... forever."
"Not a chance in hell, Demon," spat Arthas, gripping Light's Vengeance tightly, wrath spilling across his face.
"We shall see how your forces fair against mine," said Mal'Ganis, sneering at him a green glow emanating from him as he began to fade out...
Only to startle and stumble, coming back into focus. "What?!"
Jaina had a glowing hand held out. "And just where do you think you're going, demon? If you thought you were going to come in here, openly mock and murder our people in front of us, then teleport out, you have another thing coming. Arthas?"
"Yes my queen?"
"Kill him."
Oh, he liked Jaina's attitude. "Gladly. CHARGE!"
Arthas and his men thundered across the city square at the snarling demon. "Begone!"
Mal'Ganis waved his hand, and Arthas let out an 'omph' as a green swarm of energy burst forward and slammed into them, sending them flying. Arthas scowled as the demon turned tail and fled like a coward, only to be turned into a block of ice before he could get out of the square. Arthas glanced over at Jaina, sighting a sneer of contempt on her face. The look of hatred and wrath upon her wasn't something he was used to seeing, something he didn't like to see, but if ever there was something that deserved it, it was this demon.
Undead started spilling into the square before they could take advantage of the frozen demon. Arthas let out a snarl and a warcry, his shinning hammer slamming into an abomination, his men's blades and shields covering his sides from being overwhelmed while he faced the strongest of the horrors... of his poor people defiled so. Because as Jaina had said, they must never forget. These were their people, tortured and tormented and twisted into this. Their slaying was a mercy and salvation from this damnation. So when he swung his warhammer with wrath and fury, it wasn't at the shells of his people, but the demon and undead that enslaved them.
Sheets of ice fell from the sky, impaling, pinning, and slowing down droves of undead, killing some, making the rest simple for them to pick apart. He snuck a quick glance, Jaina stood behind them, two guards watchful at her side, intense focus on her face. He refocused and shoved through the undead, rushing for Mal'Ganis as the demon broke free of his icy prison. Arthas roared as he swung, only for the demon turn and grab his warhammer underneath it's head, hissing as its hands burned from touching the holy weapon. Arthas struggled to push forward, for all his strength, physical and light infused, this demon was a wall of muscle and darkness. Mal'Ganis curled his other fist and slammed it into Arthas's armored chest, managing to send Arthas back and to the ground gasping form breath.
His captains were there in a second, shields raised defensively to cover him.
Mal'Ganis's lips curled and he merely took to the sky instead, his wings flapping in mighty burst. "Hmph."
A bolt of lightning cracked from below, but the demon swerved to avoid it. "You amuse me, little archmage."
Arthas staggered to his feet, warily eying the airborne demon, before moving closer to Jaina, just incase it tried something.
Jaina glared up at it, her hand moving to track it's movement, cackling with energy. "Do I?"
"Oh yes," mocked Mal'Ganis, "The way you lied and deceived those who trusted you was delightful."
Jaina's hand wavered.
"I perhaps spent to much time reveling over such betrayal, I dare say that if you accepted a proper infusion, you would make a fine demoness."
Jaina's face clouded, something dark crossing it. "You are not the first to mock me that way."
Arthas staggered away, an arm going to cover his eyes as a brutally intense stream of lightning erupted from Jaina's hands. The pained scream that escaped the demon's lips was worth the spotty vision he had when it faded away. He blinked a few times, squinting and sighting Mal'Ganis plummeting deeper into the city, smoking rising from his body as it fell. Arthas made a mental note to never truly ever piss Jaina off.
"Not so little now am I dreadlord?" spat Jaina, eyes trailing its descent.
"Think you got it Jaina?"
She shook her head. "Doubtful."
She wiped her forehead and reached for her belt, pulling out and guzzling a mana potion, a harsh breath escaping her lips. "My reserves are nowhere near where they should be for this."
Arthas raised an eyebrow, lightly scolding while propping her up, "I'm fairly certain, Jaina, that was one of the most powerful spells I've seen from you yet."
Jaina huffed and started forward. "Arthas, my body and power can't keep up with my knowledge, this is nothing compared to what I could do if I were stronger."
Arthas isn't deaf to the murmuring of a few of the priests and other mages with them, some of them regarding Jaina warily. He gives them a brief warning look before he moves to walk beside his queen, and then in front when the undead start to come at them again. Their forces make steady work, pushing deeper and deeper into the city. Unfortunately, Mal'Ganis had far more time to establish his presence in this part of the city. They find barley any living civilians, and those they do find, the undead ignore their forces in order to rush for and tear apart, even if the attempt costs them the immediate skirmish. It fills Arthas with smoldering fury. They've saved no one since he joined with Jaina. But that is next to nothing compared to the wrath that fills Arthas as they break into the Scourge base and do battle there.
So many bodies of men, woman, children, of innocents, of his people, are haphazardly piled into bloody gruesome meat wagons, being dragged off to Necromancers or other cultists who either reanimate them or are in the process of cutting them apart to make more abominations. The stench is beyond foul, his eyes blur and he has to constantly fight the urge to gag and heave, some of his men having to falter to do so despite the combat going on around them. He's more than once slipped on blood and found himself face-first into chunks of flesh, dead bodies, or undead which lead into a grappling struggle if his men don't pry it off him.
Its...
Its madness.
"Together now! Burn the buildings!"
Arthas briefly turns his head to see Jaina working alongside the other magi, fire streaming overhead and engulfing into the abominable Scourge structures. It makes navigating through the base a bit difficult when structures are toppling over, fire and smoke spreading everywhere. His men are struggling to fight, the coughing is enough to hear alongside the cackling of the flames, the screams of pain, and the guttural cries of the undead. Arthas grits his teeth and pushes through, his glowing warhammer battering aside the undead. Where is he?
Where is that demon bastard?
They find him at the edge of the base, the demon standing next to a portal that several cultists are chanting to keep open. "MAL'GANIS!"
Mal'Ganis regards the living rushing towards him with contempt, a sneer directed at Arthas, and then a contemplative look at Jaina before he refocuses."Unfortunately for you, it wont end here. Your journey has just begun, young prince. Gather your forces and meet me in the arctic land of Northrend. It is there that we shall settle the score between..."
"The score?!" came Jaina's now shrill voice, "Do you think this is some kind of sick game you demon bastard?!"
Whatever Mal'Ganis would have said in response is lost as he dives through the portal when Jaina unleashes a blinding bolt of lightning at him.
"DAMMIT!"
Arthas roars in fury and slams his warhammer down on one of the remaining cultists, taking him down and splattering his head across the concrete. He raises an arm to cough into, his vision blurring as a building collapses, sending dust and smoke and fire everywhere. He takes in a ragged breath before roaring, "OUT! Everyone out!"
They flee the burning ruins of the base, its barely better outside. Stratholme is still burning, the fire spreading further and further. He regards his surroundings with a deep sense of loss. He had hoped, after they had separated the infected, that they could have saved Stratholme, saved his people. He knows it could have been worse, the entire city could have been lost, enslaved into damnation. Yet... it doesn't feel like enough.
They flee the burning city, regrouping outside to see many civilians gathered in clusters, the bastion forces turned into guards for them, a number of civilians self-armed as well. The landscape is littered with his people, and it eases his pain to know that a number did survive that catastrophe. Its not nearly as much as he would have preferred, but between the plague, the smoke, the fires, and the undead, its not a complete loss. However, unless Mal'Ganis is stopped, this will happen again. He turns his gaze northbound, towards Northrend off across the sea...
"Arthas," says Jaina sharply, "Don't even think about it."
He turns and narrows his eyes at her. "It won't end unless we stop him."
"That was literally the most obvious trap ever," she snapped back, "He wasn't even subtle about it!"
"Because he knows that unless we go after him, then he'll have all the time in the world to prepare for another offense against my kingdom and my people!" he countered.
Jaina ground her teeth. "I'm aware Arthas, but we aren't going off half cocked after the demon. We need Lordaeron's army mustered, and the Silver Hand assembled. We need a true assault force readied, the only thing a small force will do is feed us to the dead and bolster their numbers."
Arthas took in a breath, then let it out, its not worth arguing about, and she's not exactly wrong. "Yes, of course. You are right in that. Though if Uther is still as squeamish as he was earlier, I'm not to hopeful that the rest of my brothers and sisters in the Order will be ready to do what must be done."
He catches her shifting, her mouth briefly opening, something argumentative in her eyes, before she pulls it back as he just did, rubbing her eyes tiredly. "We have first hand accounts from our men and the civilians of what happened here along with our own testimony. I pray it will be enough to convince them and your father."
"And if its not?"
"Then we will find another way," she said before turning and glancing over the survivors, "Attention! We will begin to teleport all of you to the Capital Area shortly. Please ready yourselves, I know today has been harsh, but you must persevere in starting over."
"But... what about Stratholme? Our home?" someone calls out.
Jaina turns her gaze to the burning city, a shadow covering her face. "There is nothing in there left to save."
With that, she and the other magi begin forming portals and ushering the survivors through. Arthas takes one last look at towards Stratholme, his stomach clenching in frustration and loss, before moving to help his men pack up their impromptu base...
Review Responses:
Jingo: They can't dream of bucking mental-slavery until at least the Lich King starts to lose his power. IF that even happens, whats to say Illidan will be put in the exact same circumstances that lead to him trying to destroy the Frozen Throne and force the Lich King's hand?
DragonheartODST: Like watching a car crash in slow motion. You see it coming, know its going to be awful, but you can't stop it.
Everyone else, thanks for the responses.