Lost Lion

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Volume 3: Chapter 13

*** Western Dun Morogh – Outskirt of Gnomeregan ****

I exhaled deeply, and watched as my frosted breath mingled with the frigid air before dissipating. Looking up, I found that the sky was clear with not a single snow cloud in sight. If this wasn't a blessing from Dun Morogh herself, it would be a mighty coincidence that we had perfect weather today. On my first day here in Dun Morogh, my boots would sink halfway to the ankle with every step. Now, the snow barely reached the soles of my plated boots. While that meant that we could no longer muffle the noise of our movements, it also greatly increased our mobility.

Curiously, for such a snowy region, the chill of the wind wasn't as harsh as I would have expected. As I'd suspected, the physiology of a human in Azeroth was very different from that of a human on Earth, to the point that they could be considered different species. Of course, we weren't the only Titan–Old God hybrid race. I glanced at the dwarven resistance auxiliaries nearby who appeared perfectly comfortable in the chilly weather. The dwarves were supposed to have a militia that, when fully mobilized, should have numbered ten thousand strong. Now, only two thousand remained across the entire region, at least we have gotten in contact with; the orcs of the Laughing Skulls had certainly gotten their fun in.

Exhaling again, I leaned against a tree at the forest's edge and fixed my gaze on our objective. In the distance was a large wooden structure, sturdier than the goblin compound we had secured a week earlier. More importantly, it housed a much larger force. Alleria and Falconcrest estimated their numbers to be around four to five thousand goblin mercenaries. The good news was that the bulk of them were regular infantry with fewer than four hundred mechanized troops.

Disgusting as the goblins were, they were undeniably brilliant. They recognized their weaknesses and compensated for them with bigger and stronger mechs. If they had possessed even a fraction of the gnomes' moral restraint, Azeroth might well have belonged to them. As it stood, their greed and vice were our greatest allies, allowing the production of those inventions to be shoddy and slapdash. It was basically done in sweatshop conditions, and the quality reflected that.

The larger goblin compound was constructed mostly from wood harvested from the surrounding forest. To my left, the land was now a barren plain, covered with the stumps of felled trees. A couple of hundred woodcutters were still out there, harvesting what remained of the forest. Even if they look in our direction, they wouldn't be able to see us. The reason for that was simple; my eyes flicked up to the arcane dome overhead, currently camouflaging our entire army.

It was a marvel of magical craftsmanship, as the field not only fooled the goblins' eyes but also muted our sounds. I turned to look at the mages responsible for maintaining this cloaking field. Standing in matching twin runic circles at the center of the camp were two figures. One was Modera, Derek's girlfriend—and perhaps even Jaina's inspiration for becoming a mage, though I wasn't sure if they ever hooked up in the original timeline. The other was a dark-blue-haired elf classified by Dalaran as a Wild Mage.

Normally, maintaining such an arcane camouflage would be incredibly taxing for Modera to sustain on her own, especially for hours as we required. Luckily, the Wild Mage was a once-in-a-generation talent—or so Modera had claimed—and between the two of them, they had powered the invisible field since before dawn broke. Modera had been openly complimentary of the Wild Mage, even offering her a position in the Kirin Tor and incentives to join Dalaran.

I knew for a fact there was nothing Dalaran could teach this so-called Wild Mage. After all, she was none other than the Princess of the Blue Dragonflight, Tyrygosa.

The blue dragonflight were the undisputed masters of magic. Every fully grown blue dragon was considered at least baseline Archmage or High Conjurer level. Tyrygosa, as the princess of her flight, was far stronger than most of her peers. Why she was here, masquerading in her favorite elven form to play bodyguard for Lirath, I had no idea—but I wasn't complaining.

Tyrygosa had arrived as part of Lirath's entourage, along with several warriors. Lirath was allowed to stay only after Tyrgoas had proven herself to Alleria. As for the warriors, I had no clue who they were, though it wouldn't surprise me if they were hired mortal muscle sworn to the blue dragonflight's purpose. While dragons tended to remain apart from the mortal races, they kept a close eye on us, often through mortal intermediaries. Examples abounded: Deathwing's involvement with the Alterac Kingdom's Prestor line, or Ysera's connection to the night elves.

The leader of these mortal allies here was a tall, dark-haired, red-eyed beauty clad in form-fitting black armor. Her exotic appearance drew more than a few stares, from both men and women. Yet the aura she exuded was… intense. I had even caught her staring at me from time to time over the past few months, as though sizing me up.

That sort of scrutiny could have intimidated others, but not me. After being in the presence of Sargeras, it all felt tame by comparison. Either that, or I was simply too numb to it all. Worst case? Maybe I was in shock and never fully recovered. Though, if that was the case, that was a problem for future Callan to deal with.

Good luck, future Callan!

My gaze lingered on the disguised dragon princess as I tried to spot her partner in crime—a blue-haired human mage who was likely named Kalec. Like Tyrygosa, he was also a dragon in disguise, posing as someone of noble lineage. I didn't know much about his history—frankly, I never cared—but I did know that, like many male members of the blue dragonflight, he seemed to have a preference for human women: busty, blonde, and brimming with mana. Okay, that might not have been entirely true, but there was Aegwynn's blue dragon "friend," and I had seen Aegwynn.

In the future, Kalec—or rather, Kalecgos—would become the next leader of the blue dragonflight.

Well… maybe.

Regardless, Kalec's skills were undeniable, and I believed he must be close to, if not surpassing, Tyrygosa's magical abilities. I had hoped to "discover" this second generational talent for the Alliance's benefit. Unfortunately, after months of searching, not a single report of someone fitting Kalecgos's description had come out of the Alliance camp. That struck me as odd. While I didn't know much about Kalecgos, I did know Tyrygosa herself had been infamously thirsty-thirsty for him, trailing after him like a lost puppy. Later, her preferences shifted to a human paladin named Jorad Mace, but that was another can of worms I didn't need to think about right now.

Still, I had to wonder—just where in the hell was Kalecgos?

My musings were interrupted when I felt a familiar set of eyes on me. Tyrygosa's human servant was staring at me again. The intensity of their gaze drew my attention away from Tyrygosa. The bodyguard stood protectively close to Lirath, who, in all his infinite wisdom, had decided to join us at the front.

Over the past few months, I'd gotten to know Lirath better, and I could now confidently call him a good friend. One of the biggest bonds we'd formed was over our mutual love of music or, to be more precise, my attempts to get him to recreate all the songs I could remember from Earth.I would have preferred if Lirath hadn't been there, but he had made a compelling case to stay. He was to be the unofficial historian, one that we would have to confirm with Silvermoon when we re-established contact with the Alliance.

The other commanders, in contrast, didn't mind the idea of him on the battlefield at all and seemed to enjoy the idea that they might be immortalized in songs. However, for me, I just didn't want a repeat of the troll situation; that would devastate the Windrunner family—Alleria, especially since she had allowed his presence here. Fortunately, Lirath had one of the strongest magic users in the Alliance guarding him, not to mention that woman who was still staring intensely at me.

After nodding in acknowledgment to the mercenary captain, Eris, I turned my attention back to the camp. The soldiers were putting the final touches on our ultimate weapon: the famed ballista.

The ballista was a brand-new siege engine, designed by both human and elven engineers. Unlike traditional catapults, it was constructed using specialized ironwood trees from Quel'Thalas. Its shape resembled a massive bow, with several shields strapped on to protect the soldiers operating it. Naturally, a large bow meant equally large arrows, so twenty-foot-long bolts were crafted for it. Each bolt was roughly twenty inches thick, though the shape was peculiar—its front end near the tip was thinner while the back end was thicker. When asked about this odd design, the engineers merely smiled and told me I'd see soon enough.

The tip of each bolt was made of finely sharpened steel, so sharp it could split a hair. Human smiths were responsible for forging the tips, while elven craftsmen handled the construction of the bolt bodies. Overall, the ballista was a significant upgrade from the old human catapults. It had a quarter more range, could reload faster—two bolts for every catapult load—and delivered twice the force. Whatever it hit would undoubtedly have a very bad day.

Unfortunately, we had to assemble the ballista on-site. While better than catapults, it was still cumbersome to move. It was much faster to transport it in parts than to try pushing it through the snow. Thanks to everyone's effort, we managed to move and assemble it all in record time. In total, we had twenty ballista ready to hammer the goblin wooden fort into splinters.

Cannons might have been preferable, but they were even slower and heavier than both catapults and ballistae. Unlike the latter, cannons couldn't be disassembled for easier transport. Shaking my head, I put aside the thought of using cannons and focused on what we had.

'Focus!' I mentally chided myself.

I continued my survey, watching as many of the soldiers hurried to finish their breakfasts. Unfortunately, nothing hot could be prepared—just bread and cold-cut meats. While the magical spell masked our presence and muffled our sounds, it didn't conceal smells, so hot meals were out of the question.

Elsewhere, groups of footmen who had already finished eating knelt a short distance away, praying with the paladins and templars led by Saidan Dathrohan. The original First Five paladin was much larger and more imposing than any media depiction I'd ever seen. He was so tall that I wondered if he had some Kul Tiran blood in him. However, unlike the typically rotund Kul Tirans, Dathrohan was built like Hercules himself.

His warhammer, blessed and cut from the stone altar in Stratholme, was nearly as tall as the man standing next to him—Tirion Fordring.

Tirion was surprisingly as tall as I was. He too carried a blessed warhammer, carved from the altar of Stratholme. With his dark brown hair and neatly groomed mustache, his face had a friendlier air compared to Saidan's ever-stern expression. Catching my eye, Tirion gave a subtle flick of his gaze toward Saidan who was preaching passionately about the Light. I shook my head with a wry grin, silently letting him know I had no intention of preaching today. In fact, I hadn't preached a single sermon the entire time we'd been here. Those duties had been delegated to Laura and Allyson, who had already held a morning sermon earlier.

"Heh," I chuckled softly at the perks of leadership. Tirion matched my grin and inclined his head in acknowledgment before turning his attention back to Saidan, who was delivering an impassioned speech about brotherhood and faith.

Finally, my eyes fell on the last segment of our forces: the elven rangers led by the Ranger-Captain herself, Alleria. Unlike us humans, the elves were native to Azeroth and acutely felt all four seasons. Coming from a warmer region, it was no surprise to see them bundled up against the cold. Alleria, in particular, wore a white wool cloak to blend in with the snowy surroundings. Her armor was lined with dragonhawk feathers, which, according to her, generated heat even after being plucked.

As if sensing my gaze, the legendary ranger turned her head in my direction, raising a questioning eyebrow. I glanced meaningfully at her rangers, then to our archers, and finally back at her.

Alleria nodded in understanding and began making her way toward me. As she approached, the Ranger-Captain pulled back her hood and performed what I could only describe as a supermodel hair toss. Her long, silky golden hair caught the light, shimmering brilliantly. The casual gesture was enough to capture the attention of many nearby men who paused mid-task or mid-bite to stare at the captivating sight.

'Dayam, Turalyon, you're missing out,' I thought, picturing the future legendary paladin we'd left behind. Alleria was what Earth folks might've called "traffic-stopping" hot.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Lirath giving his sister a disapproving glare. Alleria, however, ignored him entirely as she came to stand beside me.

"Not long now," I said as she took her place at my side. Based on my judgment, we were ninety percent ready. "You ate?"

"I had something, yes," Alleria replied, her gaze fixed on the goblin fort. "You?"

"Yes," I nodded. "A year ago, I wouldn't have been able to."

"Eat?" Alleria asked, tilting her head slightly.

"Yep," I replied.

"Oh?" Her golden brows furrowed as she studied me. "Why not?"

"Because, being a greenhorn at the time, I would have been too nervous to eat," I answered. It was partly true; training could only take you so far. My modern sensibilities from Earth and the fact that I had zero military experience played a significant role as well. "I'd only ever been in skirmishes before the Horde invasion. Then suddenly, I was facing down foes that numbered in the thousands."

Alleria listened, her head tilting further as if trying to reconcile my words with what she knew of me. Her piercing gaze roamed over me, evaluating.

"Honest," I added. "Though, this is pretty new to me too."

"Battles?" Alleria asked, her confusion evident.

"No, sieges," I said, gesturing toward the goblin fort. Her skeptical look made me chuckle.

"Keep in mind, up until this point, I've only been on the defensive. I've never been the attacker."

And what an odd feeling that was, especially when I remembered the old rule of thumb about attacking a fort: always have three times their numbers. The combined forces of the Alliance Legions and Kul Tiran Marines totaled nearly twelve thousand. However, we had left a thousand back at the goblin compound to man the defenses there and another thousand to guard the prisoners and secure the anchored fleet. We had also lost a couple of hundred soldiers ambushing the Horde forces roaming the western lands of Dun Morogh.

Once again, I silently thanked God for the dwarven auxiliaries who had bolstered our numbers.

"Is that why you've been over-scrutinizing our preparations?" Alleria asked, her voice softer now. "You were worried that we would fail?"

As if to make her point, the elfette glanced at our assembled forces. The footmen alone made for an impressive force, but we also had heavy cavalry on standby. Those knights would be running down any runners. We had more surprises in store for the goblins, but despite all our advantages, I still felt the worry gnawing at my gut.

"Well, you know the old saying," I began. "No plan survives contact with the enemy."

"Wise words," Alleria agreed, giving me a wry look. "But not when we have such an overwhelming advantage."

She was right. If we lost here, then the goblins would truly deserve their victory. Before our conversation could continue, I felt a spike of Light and turned to see Saidan and those in attendance softly glowing gold before the glow faded. For a moment, I wondered which paladin buff that was. While it could have been Blessing of Might, it could also have been Blessing of Kings. Whatever the case, the paladin sermon was over, and that meant that it was time.

"We're starting," I told Alleria. "Ready our archers and your rangers, Ranger-Captain."

"Yes, milord," Alleria responded playfully, giving me a smart salute. That elf was so... I shook my head, trying to push the thought aside, and walked over to join Saidan and Tirion.

"How are we looking?" I asked, looking at my fellow commanders. "You ready?"

"Aye," Saidan replied respectfully. He lifted his massive stone warhammer to his chest. "As are the knights of the Silver Hand. We await only your command, Hierarch."

As if to prove the paladin's words true, the leadership of every unit began to congregate around me. Alleria had her bow in hand, along with a tightly packed quiver full of arrows. She nodded at me to indicate the archers were prepared. Aloman, in charge of the cavalry faction, arrived in her Stormwind blue armor, though she wore the Alliance tabard. Falconcrest had forgone plate armor in favor of leather, making it easier for him and his 'agents' to move stealthily.

Modera, busy maintaining the spell within her runic circle, had sent a high-ranking mage to inform me that the mage elements were ready. Kardan's arrival signaled that the Wildhammer gryphons we had with us would secure our airspace when we launch the assault. Finally, Brann Bronzebeard arrived; the youngest of the dwarven royal brothers had taken it upon himself to lead the engineers responsible for the ballista. He nodded at me in acknowledgment.

They were ready.

The final piece of our force—the bread and butter of the invasion—were the footmen, and I would be the one to lead them. After what I did on the beach, Derek and Modera had decided to place all command decisions in my hand. Had this been modern-day warfare on Earth, I would have been safe behind the lines, directing the entire battle through a radio. But in this convenience-deprived era, the man who commanded the battle was expected to lead from the front.

All of them were looking at me with expectant eyes, from the highest-ranking knights to the civilian carpenters we had brought along. I knew what they wanted—reassurance that everything would turn out all right, that we would be victorious. The only way I could give that to them was by giving a speech. I had never been good at speeches, and most of what I had done was on the fly. But this one felt different. It felt heavier. Even when I was outnumbered by orcs in Redridge and at Stromgarde, the B.S. I spouted only hardened the resolve of a people who knew they were walking to their deaths.

Inhaling deeply, I drew my runeblade and empowered it with the Light. The effect was immediate as the runic script on the blade lit up in gold. Then I stabbed the runeblade into the ground and gripped the hilt.

"Humans!" I began.

My voice, empowered by the Light, echoed throughout the area, but I trusted Modera and Tyrygosa's spell to contain it to the immediate vicinity.

"Elves!" I continued. "And Dwarves!"

I could feel everyone's eyes on me.

"Today, we make history. Today, we do something that our revered forefathers have never done before!" I swept my gaze across the crowd. "For today, we band together—not as individuals from every nation, but united in a common cause. We now face a foe so horrendous that they had already ravaged their own world, made roads with the bones of their victims, and showed no remorse for their monstrous deeds!"

"However!" I boomed. "They will find that our lands are not so easily taken! That there are those who will stand up for what is right and protect Azeroth from those who would ravage her and her people!"

The glow on the runic script intensified as I channeled more of the Light into it.

"Today, more than an Alliance of nations, we are the children of Azeroth, and we will fight for her!" I tried my best to sound angry. "But not all children fight for their mother!"

I pulled my glowing sword from the ground and pointed it at the goblin fortress.

"The goblins, too, are children of Azeroth, but rather than fight for her, they have thrown their lot in with the invaders. They have sided with the Horde!" I let the Light flare even brighter, as if to showcase my anger. "They want to see us all dead, to see us exterminated! They would ravage and plunder Azeroth! Will you let them do that to our world?"

"No!" a man shouted. Others quickly joined him, echoing their refusal.

"Would you let them slaughter our families, take our lands for themselves?" I asked, my voice rising. "Would you let them do as they please without a fight?!"

"No!" More voices joined in.

"I said, will you let them do as they please without a fight?!" I shouted, my tone harsh.

"NO!" The resounding answer rang out.

"Then, to the traitors of our world, to those who would ravage our people…" I set my expression with as much fury as I could muster. "Show them no mercy!"

"No mercy!" Saidan was the first to raise his hammer in agreement.

"No mercy!" Aloman raised her sword.

"No mercy!" came the cry from the footmen as they all raised their weapons. "No mercy! No mercy! No mercy!"

"AND THEY SHALL RECEIVE NONE!" I bellowed before turning to the ballista team. "Ballistae, on my signal—unleash hell upon these traitors to our world!"

The soldiers began to move out of the way as the ballistas, loaded with bolts, were pushed to the front. This was it—the moment of truth. The soldiers were ready; Aloman and her knights were mounted; and Saidan was heading to the right flank while Alleria took the left. The archers were positioned at our backs and finally, Brann was looking at me, waiting for my signal.

With that, I raised my sword up high and then slashed it downward in the direction of the goblin fortress.

"Loose!" Brann shouted, and twenty large bolts were fired at the unsuspecting goblin fortress.

*** Blackwedge Fortress – Moments Ago ***

The sun had fully risen, casting a warm, golden glow over Blackwedge Fortress. Manager Nessa Nox , three time winner of Employee of the Year, of the Blackfuse Company leaned against her office window, nursing a mug of questionable coffee. Below her, goblins lazily hauled supplies across the yard, their movements unhurried. It was just another routine day—dull and tedious—as they prepared to try and breach the gnome capital once again.

She hated to admit it, but Nessa was beginning to think the return on investment for taking Gnomeregan wasn't worth it.

She had started off with eight thousand goblins—Blackfuse's best mercenaries and mechanical auxiliaries—months ago. Now, after several months of relentless fighting, she had lost a third of her forces due to the damn gnomes' defense of their home. The big boss had put her in charge because she was the demolition and bomb expert. There had never been a fortress she couldn't blow open or a vault she couldn't blast her way into—until now. These damn gnomes were tanking her reputation!

Nessa took a sip of her coffee and frowned. Thankfully, the big boss was in the orcs' world, exploiting their resources, so it was doubtful he would hear of her failure until he returned. She needed to show results, otherwise, she would be sacked and forced to go… independent. The mere thought of that sent a shudder down her spine. Her retirement benefits, her 4001k, her investments—all of it would be gone if she didn't succeed!

It was just as Nessa was about to take another sip of her terrible coffee that she noticed something out of the corner of her eye. A moment later, one of the six watch towers collapsed as if something had struck it. The goblin watchers screamed as they were sent plummeting to their deaths.

'Gnomes?' Nessa thought with a frown as a second tower fell and then a third. However, the attack was coming from the wrong direction—the gnomes were supposed to be behind her.

"We're under attack—barkk!" The goblin shouting the warning was suddenly pierced by an enormous crossbow bolt, so large that it looked absurd.

In fact, the bolt was so ridiculously oversized that the unfortunate goblin's body simply exploded on impact, yet the bolt continued on its trajectory as if it had encountered no resistance at all, slamming into the main office building of her fortress. Nessa quickly looked out the window from her office, her eyes narrowing as she saw that the bolt had punched through the wall and was lodged there. A moment later, the alert siren blared throughout the fortress as everyone realized that they were under attack.

"Son of a —argh!" Nessa screamed in frustration as she hurled her coffee mug against the wall. She then buried her face into her hands, screaming as loudly as she could.

Of all the bad luck, now the damn dwarves were attacking too? Where the hell were the Laughing Skulls?! After venting her internal frustration, she lifted her head and shot an angry glare toward the next wave of incoming bolts. If looks could kill, they'd all be vaporized by now. Still, she was being paid for a job, and she swore on her stocks that once this attack was over, she'd exploit the dwarves for the most menial and degrading labor possible!

"A girl can't rely on anyone these days," Nessa growled as she made her way toward the mech hangar.

Her personal bodyguards—elite forces who doubled as the main building's security—followed closely behind her. Upon emerging from the main building, Nessa was pleased to see that the mercenaries were earning their pay. While there was some panic, mostly from the grunt workers and paper-pushers, the mercenary goblins were heading to the walls, armed with arrows and cheap knockoffs of those nifty dwarven boomsticks. Sure, there was a chance it could blow up in your hand, but the Safety Department had agreed that it was good enough! Nessa heard the sound of gunfire directed at the forces beyond the wall. She was so pleased with their action that she considered giving them a raise.

Well... maybe. Paid overtime, at best!

When she finally arrived at the mech hangar, Nessa couldn't help but notice the building resembled the hairstyle of a quilboar. Many of those giant harpoon-looking things were embedded into the structure, some even taking out chunks of the wooden walls. She knew she should have taken the time to make the building out of stone. A few more hits from those bolts, and the entire building would collapse completely.

"Hurry up and get your butts in gear!" she shouted to her elite troops as she made her way to her personalized mech.

The suit was taller than a hobgoblin and twice as wide. Unlike the others who only had the standard three-finger claw, she had customized hers with a sharpened drill claw on one arm and a sawing blade on the other. Strapped to the back were bombs of her own design—a personal mix that would give anyone who crossed her a very bad case of death. It only took a few moments for the mech to rev up; the sound of the other mechs starting up followed shortly thereafter.

"Alright, ya bums, time to earn your keep!" she shouted.

Just as she and her forces were able to exit the hangar bay, five more of those giant bolts struck the building, bringing it down completely. It was unfortunate for the mechanics inside, but that was part of the job. Then, as if to chide her for cutting costs, the wooden wall of the fortress, which had been turned into a pincushion by the bolts, gave way with a loud crack. The hole was wide enough for forty goblins to link arm in arm and walk through comfortably. Worse yet, the wall itself collapsed backward into the fortress, crushing many of the mercenaries on her side.

Nessa swore that if she lived through this, she would never cut corners again and would pay for the damn stone. For now, though, she had a job to do—and that was kicking these dwarves' asses back to their little burrows.

"All ya's better go plug up that hole or don't expect to get paid!" Nessa shouted at the shocked mercenaries around her.

The goblin mercs, threatened with withheld pay, blinked, before they rushed toward the hole, weapon in hand. The hobgoblins, of course, took point. Unfortunately for Nessa, she couldn't catch a break today. Arrows began to rain down on the defenders of the wall as well as those trying to fill the gap. Naturally, she intended to stay inside where it was safe; fighting in such a scrum wasn't her style.

"Use your shields and push out, damn it!" Nessa berated the mercenaries, only to see the front-most goblins hesitate. "Don't ya want your Winter Veil bonuses?!"

For a moment, the promise of those enticing holiday bonuses motivated them, but there was a saying she'd once heard: when it rains, it pours. And for her, it suddenly poured. From her angle, behind the lines, she saw a massive golden dome erected over the breach, followed by balls of glowing golden light blasting into the front lines of mercenaries. A moment later, Nessa watched as a tall figure clad in blue-plated armor rushed in. With a single swing of his absurdly large sword, he cleaved half a dozen goblins in half. Moments after, he was joined by an even larger figure, this one wearing white-plated armor and wielding a giant warhammer made of stone. With one wide swing, he sent many of the goblins on the front line flying. Those that weren't were shattered under the force.

But if that was all, it wouldn't have been so bad.

Unfortunately, with the way Nessa's luck was going, it only got worse. A swarm of plate-armored enemies rushed into the gap, seemingly in unending numbers. It took a moment for Nessa's brain to catch up and realize exactly who these people were. They weren't dwarves—not with their height. No, she saw the lion's head on the shield of the bastard with the ridiculously large sword, who was mowing down the mercs like lawn grass, and realized exactly who they were.

"They're humans, boss!" one of her elite mercs confirmed her thoughts for her. "I thought the Hordies took care of those pinkskins?!"

Nessa suddenly began laughing.

The humans were here.

The humans were here!

Weren't the Horde supposed to be steamrolling over these humans in the north? If they were here, what did that mean for the Horde? Better yet, what did it mean for them? As if the tide of plate-covered humans pushing into the gap and forcing her mercs back wasn't bad enough, an isolated rain of ice and fire began to erupt all over the fortress. It looked like they had magic users with them too; either a lot of magic users or a few very powerful ones, judging by the amount of fire and ice raining down on her mercs.

The final nail in her coffin came when the main gate of her fortress was blasted open, and in came hundreds of heavy cavalry—all knights, from the looks of it. Their heavy armor shrugged off the defenders' arrows and gunfire as they mowed down everything mercilessly with their ridiculously large swords and curved metal hammers.

"I'm fucked," Nessa said, laughing even harder. "I am completely fucked!"

"Boss!" The fear in the goblin's voice was unmistakable. "We running?"

'Run? Where to?' Nessa thought hysterically. Blackfuse would fire them for sure. The Horde would probably kill them for losing, and make no mistake—she knew they were losing.

She had worked with humans before, and while Nessa knew they were formidable in a fight, the ones mowing down her goblin mercenaries were being exceptionally brutal. She saw a footman grab a goblin by the neck and choke the life out of him, as if the sword in the goblin's stomach wasn't enough. Another human repeatedly stabbed a dying goblin on the ground before stomping on his head for good measure. These humans were pissed—and they were here for payback.

As if to prove her thoughts, the goblin mercenaries, unable to withstand the brutality any longer, broke and ran. The humans—both on horseback and on foot—pursued them relentlessly. The lead human, who had been cutting down goblins as if they were wheat with his massive sword, turned his head in her direction. He was joined by the large monster with the stone warhammer. Both were covered in the blood of her kinsmen.

Nessa gulped at the sight and idly noted that her bodyguards—the elite of the elite—had turned tail and fled. They didn't get far; she could hear them beginning to fight for their lives.

The lead human marched toward her, and she found herself rooted to the spot. Many goblins between him and her chose to simply get out of the way. At least, those who hadn't died with arrows in their backs from the elves she didn't notice until now. A desperate goblin pretended to be dead before leaping at the human to ambush him. The man with the great sword simply flicked his hand in the goblin's direction and a bolt of golden light—different from a lightning bolt—smashed into the attacking goblin, sending him crumpling to the ground, dead.

Nessa looked around one last time at the dying fortress. She took it all in: the flood of human footmen pouring in like water through the gap, the magic flinging through the air, the knights hammering into any organized resistance. Even the cowardly goblins who tried to flee were shot down by the archers. Finally, the menacing human at the lead began to pick up his pace, running at full speed toward her. There was only one thing she could do.

Ejecting herself from the cockpit, Nessa knelt on the ground, clasped her hands together, and begged for her life.

"Please spare me, milord!" Nessa was rusty on human titles, but "milord" was always a safe bet. She then turned on the waterworks and looked at him with pleading eyes. To her surprise, the human in charge appeared to slow his charge.

That was until she saw the human with the warhammer didn't stop. In fact, he lifted his hammer and swung it with a shout.

"No mercy!" he bellowed.

"Wait, maybe—" the human with the sword began, but it was too late.

The last thing Manager Nessa Nox of the Blackfuse Company saw was the flat end of the stone hammer glowing with golden light.

"Fuck."

Tbc…

AN:

First of all thanks to Icura for helping me edit this, without him, there would be no story!

Secondly, thanks to all the patron supporter, without you guys and your continued support, things would be very very different. Thank you all for you generosity!

Well, hope you guys enjoyed this chapter, I am glad you guys liked the last one too. I responded to those I could and answer whoever had any questions already. This chapter introduce the fame ballista from WC2, thats right! These ones were specially made by elves and humans where as catapults were a thing. With that said, I hope this chapter answer some questions some might have. I heard some early feedback regarding why Callan would push for no mercy but said what he said at the end, but I'm gonna wait to see you guys take on it.:D

That said, Merry Christmas!

Once again, please considering supporting us on patron at "icuraandvahn" , Thank you!

Finally, as always, CC and discussions are always welcomed!