Iskendar Hero: Well, that'll have to wait since the series would take place mostly at Warcraft III at first before moving to the events of World of Warcraft proper. Of course, I gotta show how Marwyn does it since simply describing what he did felt a bit cheap, but also giving him some agency.
Whitemoon 69: Hope I could maintain the flow.
LordofBones: ...what?
Chapter 6: Drifting
With a signal through a single thump of his staff, his the Abominations came charging at him, but the prince remained determined. Swiftly , Arthas brought down his weapon where each swing of his Light's Vengeance and likewise charged back
The first Abomination swung its arm at Arthas, but he was already moving, his shield of faith raising just in time to absorb the blow and redirect it with a surge of holy energy. The creature stumbled, giving Arthas the opening he needed. With a roar, he swung his hammer in a wide arc where weapon connected with the creature's neck, sending a spray of unholy liquid and shattering bone, and the head of the first Abomination went tumbling to the ground, its body following suit with a thunderous crash.
The second Abominatio lunged with a feral snarl, and Arthas met the creature's charge with a well-placed strike to its midsection, the force of his blow sending it reeling. As it staggered back, Arthas saw that the necromancer rained down a barrage of shadowy projectiles, their trajectories unpredictable and deadly.
The prince's instincts took over, his training as a Paladin guiding his every move. He called upon the power of the Light, his hammer leaving a trail of incandescent fire as he swung it in an intricate pattern, creating a whirlwind of holy flame that surrounded him. The shadowy missiles impacted the flaming barrier, each collision sending sparks flying and the stench of burnt decay into the night air.
With a huff, Arthas charged the second Abomination where the creature tried to swipe at him with a massive, decayed hand, but Arthas was too quick. He ducked beneath the swipe, the flames from his weapon scorching the creature's flesh, and as he emerged on the other side, he brought the hammer down in a powerful blow, aimed at the creature's spine. The Abomination let out a bone-chilling shriek as the holy fire engulfed its body, burning away the last vestiges of the dark magic that had once held it together.
The creature's death throes sent tremors through the ground, but Arthas remained steadfast as he glared at Kel'thuzad. The necromancer's grin had faltered, his confidence falling into doubt when he saw that he had underestimated the Prince.
The headless Abomination stumbled continued it's charge at the Princ. The creature's flailing arms were a blur of decay, each swing a testament to the tireless rage that the Prince only stepped aside with the grace of a dancer, striking through the air and landing with a precise blow that cleaved through the Abomination's torso, sending the creature's body collapsing into a heap of rotting meat and splintered bone, ending it's grotesque career.
With the two defeated, Arthas turned his full attention to Kel'Thuzad, who proceeded to cast a barrage of shadowy orbs, each one a concentrated sphere of malevolence that shot towards the prince, who stoodtood still. Each orb was struck and swatted away harmlessly by Light's Vengeance with such precision and skill as Arthas only stared at him, unimpressed.
The necromancer's patience was growing thin and his unleashed a monstrous burst of power. He thrust his staff forward, and the ground trembled as a colossal beam of putrid, greenish-black energy shot from its tip, aimed straight for Arthas.
The Prince concentrated his full focus onto the barrier of the Light as he withstood the brunt of the blast. He gritted his teeth and gripped Light's Vengeance tightly as he began to steadily walk to the necromancer.
Jaina and the mages, their task of cleansing the area of the undead now complete, watched the confrontation with bated breath, their eyes wide with a mix of wonder and terror at the power that washed over them.
As Kel'Thuzad channeled the culmination of his might into the beam, Arthas saw the perfect opportunity. With a deep breath, he called upon the divine might of his weapon, the runes along its shaft pulsing with a blinding brilliance. He held his hammer like a shield, withstanding the dark power thrown at him and began to lessen the distance between them, moving slowly despite the necromancer's attempts to increase the output of his power. The beam of unholy energy met the gleaming surface of Light's Vengeance, and for a moment, the world around them seemed to hold its breath.
The collision sent a shockwave that rippled through the clearing, and with a roar, he stepped forward and Kel'Thuzad's eyes grew wide with surprise, his concentration faltering as the prince closed the distance between them.
In the blink of an eye, Arthas brought the hammer around, using the momentum of the dispelled blast to send Kel'Thuzad hurtling into the air and away from him. The necromancer's body arched backward, his staff slipping from his grasp as the force of Arthas' blow sent him spiraling towards the ruined rooftops. The beam of dark magic dissipated into nothingness, the shadows retreating before the prince's unyielding advance.
The world grew still as Arthas watched Kel'Thuzad's ascent, the necromancer's robes fluttering in the wind like the wings of a fallen raven as he crashed onto the ruined house.
The ruins of the house groaned and shifted as Kel'Thuzad, lay sprawled among the debris as his body became a twisted mess of bruises and burns. Blood trickled from the corners of his mouth, staining his rotted teeth and the collar of his tattered vestments. He coughed, a wet, hacking sound that sent a spray of crimson droplets into the air, painting the dusty stones with the finality of his defeat.
Arthas approached slowly as he recalled his first killing of the necromancer that it indeed meant little bit as it was part of the plan later on. He could feel theanger, sorrow, and determination. But he had to be careful. If he wished to save his people from further harm
"Finish it," Kel'Thuzad rasped. But he was laughing weakly, as if he had a twisted sense of humor of finally becoming one with the spells he use. "You know what you are, Arthas. You know what you were meant to do."
Jaina hurried to Arthas' side, looking at him and the necromancerr. She could feel the tension coiled in him like a spring about to snap and she could only watch in stunned silence at what he was about to do.
Arthas paused. It was tempting to just kill him and send his remains to oblivion right here. But killing him would miss the opportunity for the others to know him and his schemes. And who could know better than the Kirin Tor, whom he once a part off where they would know what's inside of his head.
"I've made many mistakes throughout my life...", he lamented, before he lowered his weapon. "Ending yours will not be one of them, for now."
Kel'Thuzad chuckled before he coughed up another mouthful of blood. "Oh, my Prince," he croaked, "always so...predictable. A tool of the Light, never to stray from its rigid path."
Arthas only glared at his future 'friend'. "Perhaps," he conceded, "but a tool that knows when to strike and when to show mercy. And if that mercy means you live long enough to talk, then so be it."
The rest of his men moved to the ruined house and Falric stepped forward, weapon drawn, as he inquired the Prince. "Your Highness, are you certain of this course?"
Arthas nodde. "We bring him in," he declared. "We need to know who else is involved with the plague and of their role in it. The Silver Hand and the Kirin Tor would need to know what's inside of his head."
Jaina nodded and shereached into her cloak and found what they needed: an intricate rune-inscribed scroll that she had obtained from the Kirin Tor. It was a powerful artifact, one that could sever a mage's connection to his magic, as long as they are binded by it. "I have this," she said, holding up the scroll. "It will render him incapable of using his magic. We can take him to Dalaran for questioning."
Falric was skeptical, but he knew better than to challenge Arthas' command. He nodded curtly and turned to his men. "Secure him," he ordered, and his men complied..
The mages of the group approached the necromancer warily. They were familiar with him, his old position as a member of Kirin Tor's Council of Six. But a look from Arthas gave them the assurance that they won't be harmed any longer.
Jaina stepped closer as she began to recite the incantation inscribed on the scroll. Kel'Thuzad's eyes widened in realization as he recognized the power that was being invoked. "You... you dare?" he sputtered.
"If it means that you won't be using anymore tricks and for you to talk, then yes. We dare", Arthas replied
The incantation grew in power, the runes on the scroll glowing with a vibrant blue lighgt His eyes rolled back in his head, and his body went limp and became unconscious. Arthas then turned to Jaina. "We'll bring him to the Kirin Tor first," Arthas mused. "Antonidas and the council will know how to handle him, and they will be eager to hear of what he had done."
Jaina readily agreed with him . "Alright, Arthas," she said, her voice steady. "But what of the Silver Hand?"
"The Kirin Tor will be more adept at extracting information without resorting to... extreme measures," Arthas said to her in reply, given that the Silver Hand would be inclined to deal with him harshlt. "And I suspect that Kel'Thuzad will have much to say that could be of use to us all."
Falric stepped forward. "But, your Highness, shouldn't the King and Silver Hand know first? He did infect Lordaeron after all"
"Falric, trust me in this," the Prince urged. "Besides, they have the means to do so. And they'll understand"
The captain bowed his head in compliance. "As you command, Your Highness."
Jaina turned to the four elven mages who had assisted her in the battle. "Gentlemen," she got their attention, "Take him to Dalaran immediately for questioning. Master Antonidas would prefer a word with him."
The mages, now feeling assured, stepped forward. "Be ready," Arthas warned them. "If he recovers even a semblance of his power, deal with him immediately."
The shimmer grew brighter, coalescing into a swirling vortex of light that engulfed Kel'Thuzad and themselves. And then, all of a sudden that took the group by surprise, Kel'Thuzad and the mages disappeared.
"It is done," one of them said. "They have arrived before the Kirin Tor."
Arthas nodded and left the ruined house, where he was evidently exhausted as he slumped against the walls of the ruined house. Falric's voice could be heard giving orders as he and his men worked alongside the remaining mages to ensure that the corrupted harvest would not spread the plague further by destroying it. Despite the victory, Arthas couldn't help but feel overwhelmed at what lies ahead.
Jaina approached Arthas where she observed him for a moment before speaking. "Why did you spare him?" she asked in genuine curiosity . "After all he has wrought, all the lives he has taken and corrupted...why grant him mercy?"
Arthas took a moment to gather his thoughts. He couldn't tell her why yet, but he at least had a suitable explanation without needing to lie to her.
"Killing Kel'Thuzad now would be... too easy," he began carefully. "And it would serve us little purpose. He is but a pawn in a much larger game, and we have to catch the player before we can hope to end the game itself."
Jaina observed him a bit more closely, noticing his lack of wrathful mindset and ruthlessness that he would bring if something terrible had been done to his people. But he was focused, practical and eerily composed when instances like this would have hurt his psyche. "I thought..." she began tentatively, "you would not hesitate to strike him down."
Arthas sighed. "Perhaps," he said, having to remember slaying him without any qualms in his previous life. "But at times, the most powerful weapon is knowledge. And he has plenty of that for us to use."
Jaina studies him for a moment before she offered a small smile of her own. "Arthas, the people of Lordaeron would be fortunate to have someone as measured as you leading them through these darkest of times," she said with a genuine warmth that seemed to ease the tension between them.
Arthas looked at her. "I wish I could say that I am entirely the man they need," he said with uncertainty. "But the truth is, I can only hope what I'm trying to do now will be enough to balance the scales in what I could do."
Falric cam, looking relieved and filled with pride as he saluted Arthas. "The grain has been destroyed, your Highness," he reported. "The taint has been cleansed from this place, and the land can begin to heal."
"Good work, Captain" Arthas commended him, pushed himself to his feet. "Now we need to gather around to survey the damage done. Kesalon," he called out to the Kirin Tor mage, who was busy tending to the few remaining survivors, "any sign of survivors?"
Kesalon turned to him. "My lord," he replied, bowing his head slightly, "most of the townspeople have fled in fear, seeking refuge in the surrounding lands. But many did not make it out in time."
Arthas sighed as knew he couldn't save all of them, but it was still disheartening for him.
Jaina stepped closer where her gaze fell upon the charred and twisted remains of the buildings. "The plague," she murmured, "it's spreading faster than we anticipated."
Arthasknew very well that Kel'thuzad wasn't the only one responsible for this. And now that he was out in the first step of his plan, there is another name he would need to prioritize: Mal'Ganis, the Dreadlord. "There are other settlements that are at risk of being infected. We need move out immediately if we are to stop it's spread."
His men, along with Jaina and Falric agreed. Kesalon went back to them and looked up, his eyes red with grief. "There is one piece of news that may... disturb you both," he said hesitantly. "The house of the war hero Archmage Rhonin... it has been ravaged. His family... they did not survive."
Jaina's eyes were wide with shock and horror as she had known Rhonin to be one of the finest Archmages of the Kirin Tor, having the honor to learn from his as both a mentor and a friend. Rhonin had fought with Uther during the previous war. The thought of loved ones suffering such a fate filled him with sadness for the man.
"Rhonin... he has to be informed.", Arthas whispered in sorrow for the man.
Kesalon nodded. "I will send a raven to him at once, Your Highness," he said, moving to collect himself of his thoughts.
Arthas then paused, remembering that Rhonin has a family with Vereesa, younger sister of the as-yet Ranger-General and future Banshee Queen Sylvanas. He had not yet considered warning Quel'thalas of the possible invasion of the Scourge since Kel'thuzad isn't dead and wouldn't be needed to be revived on the Sunwell. The possibility of an invasion is very slim at best, non-existent if they could stop the Scourge now. But still, they have to at least be wary of Dar'Khan Drathir, their traitorous magister, at least since it was his betrayal that allowed his previous life and the Scourge to sweep over Quel'thalas so easily.
"Hold on for a moment...", the group watched as Arthas went away, pulling an inked quill and a parchment where went into a nearby stump to write his letter before he gave it to the mage. "Make sure it reaches Rhonin and his family.", he instructed firmly. "They'll have to at least know what lies ahead"
Jaina and Falric looked in silence, both assuming that Arthas had written a letter of condolence for the Archmage. That was half-true, as he also included a segment where Arthas hoped that would reach Quel'thalas through Vereesa since he could not get there himself, or that it would be labeled as suspicious if sent directly to Sylvanas. Which he hope that Vereesa might have some luck in persuading her sister, who had an unfortunate record of being so prideful that she is prone to making mistakes.
Something that Arthas ruthlessly exploited as a Death Knight who made Quel'thalas fall before him.
As soon as Arthas sent his message, the sound of an incoming horseman approached, growing louder until a lone rider emerged from the trees. He reined in his horse, the creature's sides heaving with exhaustion from the hard ride.
"Your Highness," the messenger called out. "I bring news from Captain Marwyn at Stratholme."
Arthas strode forward. "Speak," he commanded.
The messenger dismounted and offered a salute. "These are the letters from Captain Marwyn, sir," he reported as he handed over the rolled parchments. "He said they were of the highest importance."
Arthas took them and he broke the wax and unfurled the first letter and read them. Falric and Jaina watched him closely, noticing his unflinching attention to the parchment.
The prince's face grew grimmer with each word he read. The second letter was drawn from his belt pouch, the orange wax seal stark against the pale paper, one belonged to the Baron Rivendare. This one bore no insignia as it was personally written by Marwyn himself.
He broke the seal with a snap and read the anonymous letter, his eyes moving rapidly across the page. His face remained calm, but the tension in his jaw was showing his growing concern.
Once he had read the contents, he took sighed and rolled the letters back up. He pulled out his own quill and ink to write his response.
Finally, he sealed the letter with his own royal insignia and handed it back to the messenger along with the other one. "Return these to Captain Marwyn," he instructed. "Inform him that I grant him the authority to do what needs to be done."
The messenger nodded, tucking the letters into his own pouch. "At once, Your Highness," he said, swinging back into his saddle. He spurred his horse into a gallop, disappearing swiftly as he had arrived.
Jaina and Falric look at one another, appearing apprehensive as to what Arthas meant in those words. He looked troubled, and he was not in the mood in sharing what he knew about those letters.
Without wasting a moment, Arthas turned to Jaina and Falric. "We make for Heartglen," he announced, his voice urgent. "Our scouts have reported a massive undead force marching towards it as we speak."
Jaina's eyes widened in surprise. "Heartglen?" she echoed. "But why there?"
Arthas hesitated. "Their grain storages," he simply said. "If they are not cleansed or secured, the infection could spread like wildfire among the populace. We need to evacuate the village and eliminate any risk of contamination."
It was another half truth and a half lie to his part. That intelligence came from his memories of his past life, remembering how he and his men slaughtered the infected populace before holding off a massive invasion from the Scourge until Uther arrived. But right now, their priority is to get the populace to safety.
And while there, he fully expects Marwyn to execute his orders immediately regarding the Baron Rivendare at Stratholme. If things go as planned, he would go for the next major name in his list: Mal'Ganis.
Falric nodded. "The prince is right," he understood his message. "We leave at once."
Jaina was both concerned and confused. "But why do we hurry?" she pressed. "Surely, we can afford to rest before heading into another battle."
"Because," Arthas then turned to her, "every minute we delay, more lives hang in the balance. We have to act swiftly if we are to prevent another tragedy like this one."
He then turned to Captain Valonforth, who was awaiting his orders. "Captain, you are to remain here with your men and secure the city to make sure the survivors are tended with. I have called in for reinforcements from the capital and would arrive here in due time."
Valonforth bowed to the Prince. "As you command, your highness. We will hold the city at all costs", he proclaimed. With a nod from the Prince, they and his companions mounted their horses and prepared to leave the ravaged city of Andorhal behind.
As they rode out, the sun began to rise over the horizon. Jaina couldn't shake the feeling that Arthas' demeanor had shifted since their encounter with Kel'Thuzad. His usual decisive air had been tempered by a newfound restraint, an unexpected quality in a man who had once been driven by the relentless pursuit of his goals. She watched him from the corner of her eye, and he focused on the path ahead.
"You seem... different, Arthas," she pointed out tentatively, breaking the silence that had fallen between them. "More measured in your actions."
Falric nodded in agreement beside her. "Indeed, your Highness," he added, "you've shown a level of foresight and consideration that wasn't there before."
"Perhaps," Arthas said slowly, "it is because I understand the cost of haste and recklessness more clearly now." He glanced back at them. "And that I could not afford to act without consideration to those around me." Arthas rode ahead, leaving Jaina alone with Falric as they rode with their men following behind closely.
Falric kept looking at Arthas as he rode ahead, wondering his superior's words before he turned to Jaina, his expression mirroring her own concern. "What troubles you, Lady Jaina?" he inquired with genuine curiosity
Jaina took a moment to gather her thoughts. "Arthas...his decision to spare Kel'Thuzad," she began. "It was...unexpected. Admirable, in a way, but it felt...as if he's done this before."
Falric frowned. "You suspect something amiss?" he cautiously asked.
Jaina nodded. "He speaks of consequences and the price of complacency," she said, her voice low. "It's as though he knows the depths of what we face, intimately. And his urgency to prevent another tragedy...it's almost as if he's seen it happen before."
Falric remained silent for a beat. "The prince is wise beyond his years," he offered. "Perhaps his experiences have made him more...acquainted with the darker aspects of our world."
"But he's never been one to show mercy," Jaina countered. "And his...his knowledge of the plague, it seems...too precise."
Falric wondered for a moment. "Could it be," he ventured, "that he has been...affected by the plague?"
"No," she whispered, shaking her head. "He would have shown signs. And he hasn't.."
Falric furrowed his brow. "You're right," he admitted. "His focus is unwavering, his strategies unblemished by anger or haste." He paused. "But if not the plague, then what could be guiding him?"
Jaina had the same question in mind. "I've noticed it too," she replied with unease in her tone. "He's been so...so controlled. Almost as if he's fighting against something within himself."
Falric thoughfully nodded. "And those letters from Marwyn," he lamented in a low tone. "He's been secretive about them. What could be so dire that he feels the need to hide it from us?"
Jaina nodded solemnly. "It's as if he's carrying a weight that he can't share," she said. "The way he speaks of the plague, his insistence on preventing another catastrophe...it's eerie."
Falric cast a sidelong glance at her. "Do you think...could it be possible that he's seen this all before?" he asked, his voice hushed as if speaking the words aloud might make the unthinkable real.
Jaina's eyes snapped to Falric, her thoughts racing. "Seen it before?" she echoed. "How could that be?"
"I don't know," Falric shokk his head. "But he speaks with a certainty that only comes from experience. And his urgency, it's not just that of a leader facing a grave threat—it's personal. As if he's trying to change something that's already been written."
The two companions fell silent, the rhythmic clop of their horses' hooves the only sound between them. They knew Arthas well enough to recognize that something was amiss, but the depth of his secrets remained a mystery to them.
"I'll speak with Arthas once we arrived at Heartglen," Jaina declared. "Whatever he's hiding, it's clear it's eating away at him. He's not the same man we knew back then."
Falric looked at her with concern and skepticism. "But, Lady Jaina, the prince is a man of many responsibilities. He may not wish to share his troubles with us," he firmly said to her. "We need to respect his privacy."
Jaina's jaw set. "I understand your loyalty, Falric," she said, "but if what he's hiding could threaten our mission or even himself, then it's our duty to know, as his friends."
Falric took a moment to think then nodded. "You're right," he conceded. "But we have to be careful. Arthas has always been a man of honor, and if he feels the need to keep his thoughts to himself, it's for a reason."
Jaina's gaze softene. "Of course," she sighed. "But we're his friends as well, Falric. We can't stand by while he suffers alone."
Falric's expression grew solemn at that. "Aye," he agreed. "We'll approach him after we've done what needs to be done at Heartglen. Perhaps then, he'll be more willing to speak of what troubles him."
From the edge of the cliff, Mal'Ganis watched them leave. The failure to secure the grain and the capture of Kel'Thuzad was a setback. The Prince's unexpected valor had thrown a wrench in the works.
The Dreadlord's mind questioned the Ner'zhul's choice of his chosen champion, and he couldn't help but question the wisdom of such a move. It is his duty to ensure their success as one of its jailors, but if they wished for the Burning Legion to come to this world, the Lich King needed to have his role fulfilled.
Was there something more to this prince than met the eye? Something that could be exploited, a weakness that could be used to bring him into the fold? Or was he truly a lost cause, a mere obstacle to be removed? Mal'Ganis clenched his fist. The prince's actions had been surprisingly restrained, almost...calculated. It was as if he had seen this unfold before, knew the moves of the game better than they had anticipated.
Startled, Mal'Ganis whirled around to find his superior, Tichondrius, settled behind him. "Report," Tichondrius demanded with his usual, cold glare.
"We've suffered setbacks," Mal'Ganis admitted, his disdain for the other Dreadlord was barely concealed. "The prince and his allies arrived in time to prevent the grain's contamination and secured Kel'Thuzad's capture."
Tichondrius' frown became colder. "The meddling of the living," he mused. "Your grand design is unraveling before it has even begun, Mal'Ganis. And your pet in chains. Have you underestimated this...prince, perhaps?"
Mal'Ganis glared at him but he knew better than to challenge Tichondrius directly. "He is more...persistent than anticipated," he begrudgingly admitted. "But I shall not fail."
Tichondrius leaned closer. "See that you do not," he warned him. "The Legion's patience is not infinite, and neither is mine."
Mal'Ganis' expression grew tight. "You speak as if I have not been diligently carrying out our master's will here. I have bent the will of the Scourge to serve us, and orchestrated the plague's spread to perfection. If there are any missteps, it is because the prince is an unpredictable element—one that I am fully capable of controlling."
Tichondrius' gaze never eavered. "But control is a fickle thing, isn't it?" he challenged which pierced through his subordinate's bravado. "And your 'perfection' has thus far only led to delays and complications." He stepped closer. "Remember, your role here is not to simply perform tasks, but to ensure victory. I have my eyes on other potential pawns, should you fail to deliver the prince to us. Or replacements for Prince if need be"
Mal'Ganis was eager to steer the conversation away from his recent missteps, chose to focus on the broader picture of their grand scheme.
Tichondrius turned to face Mal'Ganis fully. "When the time is right, we will have to call upon Detheroc and Varimathras if things do not go according to plan. But for now, we concentrate on securing our foothold here. The prince's interference cannot be underestimated."
"What of the Blackrock Clan, Tichondrius? Have they proven to be of use?", Mal'Ganis further asked.
"The orcs of Blackrock have lost their favor with the Legion," Tichondrius answered. "Their repeated failures in the service of our cause have not gone unnoticed."
"But they are warriors," Mal'Ganis countered. "Surely their might could be of value?"
Tichondrius waved a dismissive hand. "Their pride is their downfall," he pointed out. "But do not despair. The orcs are a fickle race, easily swayed by the promise of power and vengeance. If the need arises, we shall offer them the opportunity to atone for their past treacheries. They will serve us again, if only out of desperation and fear."
Mal'Ganis nodded thoughtfully. "And when their purpose is...fulfilled?" he asked.
"When their usefulness wanes," Tichondrius began, "we discard them as we would any other tool that has outlived its purpose."
Mal'Ganis knew that he could not afford to fail again, not with Tichondrius watching his every move. He would have to be more cunning, more ruthless than ever before.
"Understood," Mal'Ganis murmured, bowing his head slightly in a show of deference. "The prince will be ours, and the Scourge will march unchecked across these lands."
Tichondrius' glare slightly softend. "See that it is so," he ordered. With a swirl of shado, he vanished, leaving Mal'Ganis to ponder the weight of his words.
The Dreadlord turned his gaze back to the ruined city. But first, the prince... Arthas. To control such a willful soul, is challenging. But if push comes to shove, he would see to it that the Prince be eliminated before he could become a vital threat to their cause.
The divergences will now begin here.
Edited: March 17, 2025
