WeirdBlockPoints: Yeah I can see that. Decided to give Jubei'thos the name 'Wrathjaw' largely because of it doesn't sound that great that I have to come up with that. Regarding the War of the Ancients, I was about to lean in with Antonidas knowing that from Kael (who was at that point, still a Council of Six member) until I decided to change it as it didn't really make sense. Hope they do give Calia's husband a name one day though, and I admit I was initially going for Falric being secretly the father but found out that it didn't line up properly.

Iskendar Hero: I don't know man...I don't think a hold would've suited him at that point depending on the circumstances.


Chapter 19: Tribulations.

In a massive orc internment camp near the ruins of Durnholde Keep called Stonewall Citadel, it was day to day typical activities as Alliance soldiers stood guard on the massive numbers of Orcs that remained in their cells and cages alike with the aid of a few magi of the Kirin Tor. Even after the breakouts made by the late Aedelas Blackmoore's former Gladiator-turned Warchief Thrall and the late Orgrim Doomhammer, there are a few internment camps that remained that were kept under strict secrecy as its prisoners live in isolation and not being able to see the light of day.

"Look at them," one of the human guards sneered, spitting onto the ground as he gestured to the imprisoned Orcs. "Greenskins, all of 'em. A bit sad that their new Warchief must've missed them because they're here. Because after that stunt of his along with his boss who lost, the King should've slotted the lot of you long ago." His comrades only laughed in disdain at the imprisoned Orcs.

"Hush, you fool," another guard warned. "You know the King's orders. Let the mages handle the demon-loving scum. Word is, their new Warchief had wiped out a Kul'tiran detachment at Darkspear Islands."

The first guard only scoffed. "Aye, I heard about that Thrall," he skeptically confirmed. "Some say he's got a new Horde forming, trying to be all noble and declared they changed. But given how they rampaged all throughout Lordaeron and those elf lands, I wouldn't hold my breath of them keeping their word."

His colleague crossed his arms. "If they come knocking at our doors, we'll show 'em why we won the last war. They'll die trying to break out these beasts."

Meanwhile, the Orcs within the cells remained stoic with quiet resentment. When they first heard of Doomhammer and his protegé's escape, they held out hope that they would be able to finally escape. But after they heard of their Warchief's death and his successor escaping the Eastern Kingdoms to lands unknown, they felt abandoned as no rescue was ever made, not knowing that their presence was kept under secrecy. And all they could now, is wait.

Suddenly, they were interrupted by a low rumble that shook their surroundings and they immediately saw that something was terribly wrong.

They quickly went outside the corridor where projectiles fired by Meat Wagons went to the courtyards, spawning skeletal warriors and abominations alike when they spilled over the battlements. At the center, the ground erupted as Ghouls and Abominations guided by necromancers, attacked the soldiers who were training . The human guards quickly went for their weapons in the face of the relentless Scourge invasion.

"Sound the alarm!" one of the magi shouted, firing a fireball at a nearby Ghoul that was incinerated, before a chained hook pierced through his chest by an Abomination before he was pulled by the sheer force in terror. "Get over here!", the creature bellowed.

As this was already happening, the gates of the citadel were breached by an overwhelming force of Blackrock Orcs, led by their Warchief as he called out to his brethren.

"Brothers of the Blackrock!" he bellowed with his voice being heard throughout the camp. "The time for vengeance is upon us! Let no human survive for what they have done to our people!"

The guards desperately fought back as they tried to hold off the onslaught. But the camp of the living was swiftly being overrun by the the combined force of Orcs and of the Scourge. Quickly, the Blackrock Orcs found their imprisoned brethren and broke the chains of their cages as well as the bindings that kept them immobile. Fueled by resentment and rage that had built up, they promptly picked up whatever weapons they could get and systematically slaughtered the remaining guards, even some using their bare hands to rip off the limbs of a few unfortunate guards that were still alive.

In the midst of the carnage, Wrathjaw looked over the chaotic scene before him with satisfaction. His hatred for the humans burned hotter than the fires of his demonic masters that had been present ever since their defeat from the previous war all those years ago

Amidst the chaos, a terrified horseman began to ride to the nearest friendly outpost to try and warn them what was happening. However, three wolf-riding Orc Raider swiftly intercepted him, their snarling beasts sinking teeth into the steed's flank. The horse collapsed, sending the rider sprawling into the mud. The raiders, dismounted and dragged the trembling messenger before their leader.

"Warchief," one of them grunted, dropping the human at his leader's feet. "We found this one trying to flee."

Wrathjaw's looked upon the cowering figure. "What do you intend to do, human scum?" he demanded, raising his broadblade.

The messenger's was clearly terrified. "I...the internment camps...under attack...King Terenas must be warned..."

With a snarl, Wrathjaw swung his blade, ending the man's life with a spray of blood. "Fools," he hatefully spat. "They think to cage us, to break our spirits? They will know the price of their arrogance!"

The Fel Orc Warchief's stood before the Orcs before him that included those who were freed. "Brothers!" he roared. "Today, we stand not as prisoners, but as warriors! The humans who dared to cage us shall feel the size of our resolve! Remember the cruelties they've visited upon our kin, the dishonor they've brought to our names! Our time for vengeance has come, and our salvation lies in their ruin!"

The captive orcs with their spirits ignited, roared in approval as they smashed their way free of their prisons to which they had been brought by their human captors.

With a final, thunderous cry, Wrathjaw called out to his people, "Rise, my brothers! The age of human arrogance has ended! No more weak human Kings to define our destinies! Follow me, and you will never be again be in chains! RISE UP! FOR THE TRUE HORDE!"

His brethren raised their fists and weapons while their undead comrades gathered the slain bodies of their human captors. "BURN IT ALL DOWN! ALL OF THEM!"

Behind the Warchief, he heard a slow clapping of applause as he turned to find Tichondrius where he took in the destruction wrought by the Blackrock Orcs. "I am impressed, Warchief.", he stated. "The Legion will be most pleased with what you have achieved here."

Wrathjaw grunted in acknowledgment. "We fight for our kin," he rumbled. "For our freedom and our vengeance. As the will of our masters of the Legion!"

The Dreadlord nodded in approval. "Indeed," he said, his hand raising to gesture at the countless human bodies littering the ground. "But do not let your newfound power cloud your judgment. These humans have served their purpose, and now they shall serve us in another way."

With a flick of his wrist, a dark, malevolent energy emanated from the Dreadlord, and the lifeless forms of the slain Alliance soldiers began to stir. The dead rose as mindless undead, their eyes now vacant and cold as they now serve a new master.

"With these new...soldiers," he gestured to the freshly risen undead, "Overtaking the rest of the remaining camps will not be a predicament then we set our sights on the capital."

The Blackrock Warchief was intrigued of the possibility of plunging his blade to the human King who formed the Alliance. "My blade thirsts for the blood of those who wronged us," he growled.

"It shall be quenched, Warchief," Tichondrius assured him. "But first, we must ensure Kel'Thuzad's release. Once he is returned to our grasp, then we are sure to move in the next phase of our plan to bring the Legion into this world."

Wrathjaw nodded, watching as his men tore down Stonewall Citadel of everything of value. Everything is going as planned..., Tichondrius thought as he watched.


Back in Lordaeron Palace...

"Father, I understand the importance of continuing our line," Arthas stated to his father as they walked along the palace's hallways when Terenas brought up the idea of him taking a bride. "but I cannot in good conscience bring a wife into this world until we are sure that the threat of the undead and the plague is resolved in earnest."

Terenas looked at him in pride when he saw his son's maturity was clear. "Duty always comes first, my son. And you have been very focused and more considerate in the more delicate affairs in our Kingdom."

"I know," Arthas replied with a sigh, hiding the fact that there is still much more to do after the entire ordeal at Northrend. "But considering the choices I may soon make... I have to be more careful while being firm in the direction that I'm trying to follow."

The King looked over him closely. "Tell me, Arthas...", he began in curiosity "What have you learned yourself? What lessons have you picked up that you may use when the time comes?"

Arthas looked over his side for a moment. "When it came to making the hardest choices, it's hard to say. Do you take the least difficult but more dangerous method in doing what needs to be right not knowing its immediate consequences? Or would you the opposite, being longer but safer in the long run where you could realize the consequences of what might happen?"

"And what do you choose, Arthas?", Terenas asked him.

The Prince took his time to think. "It might be that this idea pertains to how we should think before we act accordingly. To be patient and to think wether or not it would've been good for the people you lead in due time or not."

Terenas studied his son, who had been more or less a different person than the one he knew and raised all those years. "Arthas," he said thoughtfully, "I have watched you grow from a boy to a man in so short a time, it fills me with as much sadness as pride. You fit your father's crown as if it had been forged for you at the very beginning , knowing that you have been responsible as you have been pragmatic of each order you make for our people."

Arthas looked downcast. "If I have, Father," he responded, "it is because I have seen the outcome of such decisions made by fear and anger myself, and how much I try to stray away in doing so."

The King leaned in forward to listen what his heir has to say. "For months, I've grappled with the fear of what could be and the anger for what has been done to us amidst the tribulations we are also facing. I have come to understand that doing so can only bring harm to my friends as I did to my enemies. When I first learned that lesson after feeling none the wiser, I turned back to find that there is no one that I still care for left standing beside me."

For a moment the Prince did not realize the words he had sprouted and how much he had gone off topic. He had unintentionally reflected his own thoughts of his previous life, the decisions he had made before he first made that journey and he expected his father to look puzzled with confusion of his words.

Instead, he only saw the proud smile Terenas had for him. "My son, you are already showing the makings of a great king," he remarked to hin. "To recognize your errors and to learn from the lessons from before is a sign of true maturity."

The prince nodded, casting aside his earlier worries. "But I am not there yet, Father," he admitted candidly. "There is so much I still need to learn, so much I need to understand. And I have to learn to confront such fears more thoroughly if I ever intend to become a leader for our people"

The king's gaze softened. "We all have our fears, my son," he assured him. "But it is our ability to face them, to learn and grow, that defines us. In your case, your journey has only just begun, and I can say in full confidence that you are heading to the right direction."

Arthas looked up at Terenas, feeling the very image of him being stabbed by Frostmourne by his very hands slowly fading away and replaced by the proud visage of Terenas regarding him highly. "I will do my best, Father,"

"Being a leader is not one of solitude," Terenas advised. "To have trust in others, is to share the burden as well as the victories that sprouted from them. That is how a kingdom truly flourishes."

The doors of the palace swung open to reveal Alexandros Morgraine, approached Terenas and Arthas with urgent steps that stopped the two at their tracks, looking at t

"Your Highness," Morgraine announced, bowing before the two, "The necromancer Kel'thuzad has arrived. He is secured within the dungeons, awaiting your judgment."

The Prince felt his blood freeze at what he just heard. "...what?", he uttered dangerously, as if asking Morgraine to repeat what he had said.

This went unheard as Terenas nodded in relief and determination. "Good," he firmly said. "See that he is well-guarded so that he may be brought to justice. A warning to any who dare follow in his treacherous footsteps."

By the Light, what have you done father?, Arthas felt constricted as he heard what Jaina had feared. The necromancer being in the capital was the last thing they needed, where the future ArchLich would be more susceptible in being rescued, which is why he wanted him to remain in the custody of the Kirin Tor, where he might be more secure. But here he was, in the very heart of Lordaeron, where things would go from bad to worse in a flick of a wrist

"Father," Arthas began tensely, "I...I don't think he should be here in the capital. The Kirin Tor are better equipped to handle his kind."

Terenas turned to his son, showing that nothing would change his kind. "This is not about the safety of Dalaran, Arthas," he pointed out. "It's about the safety of our people. By bringing him here, we show our resolve and our morale remain unshaken in the plight that was brought upon. And to bring him here, alive and unable to do anything, would persuade his followers in the Cult to scatter."

Arthas felt like he wanted to grab his father's collar and yell at him, even though he knew Terenas hasn't known the full scope of the necromancer's abilities. Kel'thuzad's capture was not just a victory for Lordaeron; it was also to crush the morale of the Cult of the Damned.

But then this is also the same man who spread the Plague that ravaged throughout Lordaeron like it was the easiest task he could've asked for.

Arthas knew his hands are tied at this moment and he knew better than to argue with his father once Terenas made up his mind. He would have to find another way to make sure Kel'thuzad didn't have to do anything that would jeopardize everything.

"Father," Arthas spoke out in a calming manner despite his inner thoughts saying otherwise. "May I be of any assistance in preparing for the trial?"

Terenas nodded. "Very well, Arthas," he said. "But for now, I wish for you to rest and recover from your ordeal. Given that you have served as a jury for Lord Fordring's trial and the one who apprehended this monster, I will allow it."

His heir gave a curt nod in response, but resisted the urge to curse at his father for bringing Kel'thuzad here. He strode through the halls and to the terrace where he found Jaina, looking alarmed as she rushed to his side after she had teleported in the area.

"Arthas, I have to talk to you," she said in between pants as Arthas held her by her shoulders. "Master Antonidas has released Kel'thuzad into Lordaeron's custody."

Arthas felt his heart drop. He had feared as much. "I know," he replied in a strained voice while gritting his teeth in frustration. "My father ordered it. He is to stand trial here, in the capital."

Jaina's eyes grew even wider. "Here? But why?!" she exclaimed. "His followers could use this as their chance to free him or worse..."

He clenched his fists in response. "I know what he could do, Jaina. But father would not be swayed when it came to things like this," he conceded, cupping his chin in deep thought.

"What can we do?" Jaina asked in uncertainty.

Arthas sighed, clutching his forehead. "For now, what we could do is to wait because he would be closely guarded and would not be able to silence him without just cause, not yet. We'll just have to hope the proceedings would go swiftly before we could deal with him."

If only they knew what was going on inside that man's head.


A day later, Kel'thuzad stood before a group of juries, a crowd of disbelieving and angered crowd as his trial had finally commenced. He looked to find Arthas and Jaina watching him next to King Terenas and gave them a mocking, fatherly smile. Alexandros Morgraine acted as a prosecutor of his crimes, looking miffed and angered at the necromancer. Among the jury was Archbishop Alonsus Faol, Lord Othmar Garithos, Prince Arthas, and King Terenas himself.

The Prince took a moment to look at Garithos. He is still technically a General at this point, not Grand Marshal. And given his own temperament, Arthas hoped he could use it to his advantage especially if the Baron demands that the necromancer be put to death immediately.

Among those who attended are members of the Silver Hand that included Uther, Lord Tyrosus, Lord Commander Saidan Dathrohan and Alexandros' son, Darion. General Abbendis and his daughter Brigitte were also present, but it looked as if they wanted to kill the necromancer themselves but are watched by the others that they only sat back in silence.

Arthas took a moment to think he extent of Kel'thuzad's crimes including that of starting the Plague of the Undeath and causing its spread at Andorhal, infecting numerous farmlands and granaries that would prove disastrous if consumed by the common folk by Lordaeron as most did not know of it being infected. Also adding to his list of crimes is conspiring with Baron Rivendare and Lord Alexei Barov who are present to act as witnesses as well as them being convicted of their own involvement, both of whom are in league with the necromancer in transporting the grain to Stratholme that would have proved disastrous for the people had the Prince had not given orders to seize every grain cache in the city and ordered an evacuation of most of the citizens, sparing most of them from a fate worse than death. So meaning with all the evidence, a swift verdict could be reached.

It was clear that the chamber was filled tension and anger as Kel'thuzad was brought before the jury. The former Kirin Tor Archmage-turned-necromancer is bound in chains that held not only his body but his very essence. Highlord Alexandros stepped forth and recounted the heinous crimes that Kel'thuzad had committed.

"You stand accused of endangering the lives of countless souls, of defiling the very resources that sustain our kingdom, and of conspiring to commit an act of mass murder that would have surpassed any horror we have seen in this war," he declared. "You brought the plague to Andorhal, slaughtered innocents, and sought to repeat your atrocity in Stratholme. As well as personally leading the undead Scourge against the innocent souls of Lordaeron."

The crowd murmured in shock as most did not have the knowledge of what was happening around them before it morphed to anger. Kel'thuzad's smug smile only served to fuel their fury.

"What do you say to these charges, necromancer?", the King bellowed.

The necromancer lifted his chin, looking as if he was amused of his line of work. "Guilty," he spat out. "Guilty as charged, Your Grace. But my work is far from complete. Others even now carry out my will, and soon, you will see fruits of our labors."

The area ended up being a well of shock and outrage, but the defendant was unfazed. "Your kingdom is already lost," he sneered. "You are simply to blind of things that you have not understood one bit."

The jury looked over to one another. Archbishop Faol's eyes narrowed in contemplation, while Lord Garithos's face was a mask of disgust and anger. Arthas and Jaina exchanged worried glances, as if they had a feeling tha Kel'thuzad hid something that they haven't known yet.

"Who are these others you speak of?" Terenas demanded. "What further horrors do you have in store for us?"

"In due time," Kel'thuzad cackled. "In due time, the veil will be lifted. But would I ruin the surprise right now?"


"There's too many of them! We have to-gaaack!?"

"The Orcs have escaped their camps!"

"We have to warn the King! They're marching to the Capital!"

It was a chaotic sight as Lordaeron's outer sentries and scouting bases were being overrun by a combination of Blackrock and Scourge forces. One by one, they were cut down, their warning calls to the capital lost in the cries of the undead and the thunderous war drums of the Orcs growing ever close. From the front, the Blackrock Shaman Mazrigos as he sent bolts of electricity sizzling through their ranks as they tried to flee.

Wrathjaw walked through the carnage as he slaughtered his way, with each swing of his burning broadblade sent sentries flying, their armor shattering against his immense strength. Despite his size, his speed made it difficult for others to keep up with. With a grim satisfaction, he watched as his necromancers descended upon the fallen, whispering foul incantations that reanimated the lifeless into the Dreadlord's army of the damned.

The bells of the Capital City could be heard from there. And he can smell the very blood of those wretched humans from there.


Arthas was growing frustrated, and so is Jaina when it became clear that Kel'thuzad was purposefully dragging out the trial as initially intended. The necromancer kept giving cryptic questions as well as equally cryptic answers, and it seemed to frustrate the King as well enough to call necromancer's two followers of the Cult of the Damned.

Baron Rivendare and Lord Alexei Barov, once esteemed and powerful nobles of Lordaeron, were brought forth to the stand to show how the defendant's influence has run. King Terenas's face was stoic as he addressed them. "Baron Rivendare, Lord Barov, you stand as witnesses to the treachery of this man. Why, with all that you had, would you align with him to fuel his madness?"

Baron Rivendare, being a fanatic to Kel'thuzad, turned to face the king. "He has shown us power, your Highness," he steadily replied . "The kind of power that wealth and titles could never provide. He offered us a glimpse into the abyss, and we found it... liberating."

Lord Barov nodded, equally devoted as Rivendare. "We serve a greater purpose," he declared, "a new order that will cleanse this world of its weaknesses. And we will not be left behind to rot in the decay of the old ways."

The necromancer only smiled in pride. "As you can see, they understand the tides of change, my King. Soon, all will see the truth of my vision."

The court was in an uproar. Jaina and Arthas shared a look of horror as the gravity of the situation grew heavier. Falric stepped closer to Arthas. "Your Highness, shouldn't we act now?"

Arthas's jaw clenched. "Not yet, Falric," he murmured through gritted teeth. "We have to make sure to reach a verdict as soon as possible." The necromancer's words, though damning, were not enough to secure a swift condemnation.

Morgraine couldn't help but ask. "What is it that you gain from the suffering of so many others?", he asked the defendant. "What has led you to commit such deeds?"

Kel'thuzad grasped his hands. "Curiosity."

"What do you mean by that?", Morgraine pressed.

"Is it so different than your own work?", Kel'thuzad asked as if he were spreading the word of wisdom. "You take the lives of men and women, strong in the conviction that their deaths will improve the lots of those left behind. A minor evil, for a greater good? We are the same."

Arthas and Jaina looked bewildered, wondering what is he rambling about now.

However, some were growing tired of this charade. Garithos slammed his fist on the table. "I have heard enough of this madness!" he declared with hostility. "Guilty!" He spat the word like a curse. "Put him and his treacherous lapdogs to the sword!" The crowd roared their approval. Arthas, wanting to see this over with and deal with the necromancer immediately, expressed his approval.

But King Terenas raised a hand for silence. "We will not be swayed by passion," he declared. "We must hear all that he has to say. Only then can we pass a just judgment."

Kel'thuzad chuckled darkly. "Very well," he agreed. "The truth is often more terrifying than the shadows it hides within." He looked around the room, taking in the tense faces of the assembly. "I am but one piece in a much larger puzzle. Cut me out, and you may find that the picture becomes even more distorted."

Terenas leaned forward. "What purpose do you and the Scourge serve, necromancer?", he asked apprehensively.

"Your Highness," Kel'thuzad began, his voice a serpent's hiss, "the Scourge is not a mere tool, nor a beast to be tamed. It is the embodiment of the cycle of life and death." The way he spoke sounded like he was waiting for this for so long. "Like a ravenous tide, it will consume everything in its path, leaving little of the imagination. And should you dare to stand in our way," he continued, looking back to the king, "you will find that for every one of us you cut down, two more will rise to take our place."

The room grew colder, and Terenas was growing weary of him. "Your blasphemies are noted," he said, "but they do not sway our resolve. The crimes you have confessed to are unforgivable, and the fate of Lordaeron does not rest in your twisted hands."

"You speak of a fate that is already sealed," Kel'thuzad said. "Whether you submit or flee, one thing remains certain: the fates that awaited all of us are all the same."


The horizon grew closer, revealing the majestic spires of Capital City gleaming in the morning, a bastion of human arrogance that would soon know the fury of the combined might of the Blackrock Clan and the Scourge.

Tichondrius and Wrathjaw exchanged a knowing look. With a subtle gesture from the Dreadlord, the Orc Catapults and Scourge Meat Wagons at their rear lurched into action. The air was split by the whistling of boulders and the sickening thud of rotting flesh as they rained down upon the city's defenses, heralding the beginning of the siege.


The jury took a few moments to deliberate but their verdict as clear as Arthas saw it. Finally, Highlord Morgraine stood, his eyes unwavering on Kel'thuzad. "In light of your confession and the overwhelming evidence presented, the jury finds you guilty of all charges," he announced.

Baron Rivendare and Lord Barov remained stoic, but Kel'thuzad's smile grew with mali d. King Terenas spoke next with resignation. "By the power vested in me, as the ruler of Lordaeron, I hereby sentence you, Kel'thuzad, Rivendare, and Barov, to death. May your souls find peace in the afterlife, for you shall never find it in this realm."

But the necromancer seemed unfazed. "You speak of peace," he sneered. "But for us, death is but the first step towards a power that transcends your understanding."

The ground beneath their feet began to tremble, resulting in the occupants becoming on guard while the civilians inside were terrified. The doors of the grand hall burst open, and a guard stumbled in, his eyes wide with terror. "My lords," he gasped, "the city is under attack! An army of the damned, with orcs in tow, approaches the gates!"

The room erupted into chaos. Falric and the Silver Hand knights leaped to their feet, drawing their weapons and preparing to defend the city. Arthas and Jaina's gaze snapped to Kel'thuzad, realization dawning in his eyes. "You did this," he growled. "You dragged this out to buy them time to get here!"

"Oh, Arthas," Kel'Thuzad laughed. "Always so quick to assume. Perhaps your time in the Light has dulled your wits. I merely wished to see the look on your faces when the inevitable came to pass. Poor timing, I assure you."

The trembling grew more intense, the windows rattling in their frames as the earth itself seemed to shake with the approaching horror.

"Take them away," Arthas ordered, his voice firm despite the tremble in his hands. "To the dungeons, until we can deal with this menace."

The chains binding Kel'thuzad and his cohorts clanked as they were escorted from the room. As the necromancer disappeared through the doors, his final words lingered in the air like a curse. "This is but the beginning," he called out, his laughter echoing through the hall.

Lordaeron's officials gathered around the King, awaiting his orders. "We have to make sure our people are safe...", Terenas muttered in anger and frustration. "Highlord Morgraine, Archbishop Faol. See to it that our people are in the safety of the Undercity below until we can push the enemy back from the capital. Lord Goodwin and other civilian officials will assist you"

The two quickly complied, with Darion going with them as they began to get their people to safety away from the chaos outside. "I need the Silver Hand and the present elements of the army deployed at once at the front to hold them back. General Garithos, take Captain Bilric and your men with you to reinforce the front lines."

The bearded Baron agreed, brandishing his war axe. "As you command, my King.", he looked over to the guards present. "Move out!"

"The Silver Hand will reinforce the perimeter to make sure no undead passes through the gates unnoticed.", Arthas spoke up. "I'll be joining with Lord Uther to defend the front, while Lady Proudmoore will coordinate with every available mage to support us."

Terenas and Jaina agreed, and they separated. Arthas headed with the Silver Hand to meet the enemy at the gates while Terenas was escorted to safety to coordinate the civilian efforts of the battle in the palace.

It wasn't something that Arthas had foreseen. And now, it was time for him to deal with the consequences.


It was already chaotic outside, filled with screams of the dying and the rage of every combatant. The outskirts were littered by corpses of the relentless march of the Scourge and Blackrock Clan against the frenzied defense of the Alliance forces. Arthas, Uther and the Silver Hand knights charged into the fray.

"To the left, men!" Uther bellowed as a group of Abominations lumbered towards them, their slow speed making it easier for them to go around to destroy them. The knights with swords and maces swung in unison, cleaving through them handily along with the Ghouls who came with them.

Jaina, near the city gates along mages, her eyes alight with arcane power, called forth bolts of frost and fire, raining them down upon the advancing Scourge and Orc forces. Water Elementals summoned by them charged ahead against incoming Orc Warlocks and Raiders that charged against them, stopping their advance.

Falric and the other knights formed a steadfast shield wall around Arthas, their faith giving them the strength to stand firm against the relentless onslaught. "Hold the line!" Arthas roared as Light's Vengeance arcing through the air in a blur of light, smashing into the skull of a charging Orc, shattering it like glass. The creature fell, lifeless, to the ground, and the prince moved on to the next.

"Push them back men!", General Othmar Garithos charged ahead with his loyal right hand, Captain Bilric, on horseback as they cut through groups of Ghouls and Necromancers before meeting the wolf-riding Orc Raiders charging right at them. "Drive these inhuman dogs from our homeland!"

At the other side, Wrathjaw moved with a ferocity that defied his massive size. His burning broadblade spun like a tornado of fiery death, leaving a trail of dead human soldiers in his wake. Each swing of his weapon was resolute, slicing through steel and bone with ease. Lordaeron's troops were caught in a nightmare, with fear taking over them as they struggled to keep up with the Warchief's relentless onslaught.

"By the Light, what is this monster!?" one soldier exclaimed to his comrade as they stumbled back, desperately trying to dodge the whirlwind of flame and steel from the red-skinned Fel Orc.

"It's a demon!" another shouted over the din of battle.

Wrathjaw, seemingly hearing their cries, threw his head back and laughed, a sound that was more akin to the roar of a dragon than any mortal creature. The soldiers, though terrified, knew they had to stand their ground. They rallied together, their shields raised and swords pointed at the monstrous orc. "For Lordaeron!" they screamed, charging forward.

Wrathjaw met their charge with a sadistic grin, his blade carving a path of destruction through their ranks. The ground was painted with the crimson of their blood, and the air was filled with the acrid stench of their burning flesh as they fell to the Warchief's blade.

"This is glorious," Wrathjaw murmured to himself with the same madness that had once consumed his mentor, Blackhand the Destroyer. "The taste of victory is as sweet as the screams of the vanquished!"

The human soldiers redoubled their efforts, throwing themselves at the Fel Orc in a desperate bid to bring him down. But for every soldier that fell, another took their place. His advance was stopped when he used his blade to block the combined attack between Silver Hand General Abbendis, and his daughter Brigitte, looking at the Blackrock Warchief hatefully for the slaughter he had made.

"King Terenas made a mistake letting your kind live!", the elder Abbendis spat at the Orc while his daughter looked at him with disdain.

The Orc's response was a sadistic glee. "Then he will live to see the error of his judgement!"


The battle was going on smoothly as expected. Every human and orc that fell are quickly revived by Necromancers. The humans are holding their line well enough, with dwarf mortar teams raining fire on the Blackrock and Scourge artillery.

Tichondrius looked over Detheroc approaching him. "Kel'thuzad is being moved to one of their dungeons.", he informed his superior, looking over to find the Orcs fighting well than expected. "It seems the Orcs have some use after all, for now."

"Good.", Tichondrius bellow before he began to walk away from them. "I have business to take care of."

Mal'Ganis stepped forward, his curiosity piqued amidst the chaos. "Where would you go, Tichondrius?" he asked,.

Tichondrius turned to him. "I go to ensure that our pawn does not slip through our grasp," he simply replied. "He is too valuable to leave to the mercy of the Alliance. I will retrieve him personally."

Mal'Ganis' eyes narrowed. "And what of the siege?"

"Continue the assault," Tichondrius ordered, his voice cold and commanding. "Keep their attention here. Detheroc will be with you to provide... guidance. I trust you will not disappoint."


The battle raged on outside as Arthas and Uther the Lightbringer led the frontal defense. General Othmar Garithos fought with Captain Bilric at the right, while a Silver Hand vanguard along with royal troops led by Lord Commander Dathrohan and General Abbendis fought undead and orc forces alike resolutely against Wrathjaw. In spite of this, Arthas couldn't help but something is amiss and he turned to his mentor fighting beside him.

"Uther," Arthas called out to him. "I need you to ensure Kel'thuzad remains in his cell." His grip tightened around the handle of Light's Vengeance, the war hammer's head, taking down an Abomination by leaping in and destroying his head..

Uther, his own war hammer raised to parry an incoming Raider's massive blade, looked at his Prince. "He is secure, Arthas," he assured his pupil, his voice strong and steadfast. "Why so?"

"Please," Arthas urged him, cursing the fact that this had to happen when killing him was supposed to be an easy task. "If he escapes...it would have dire consequences."

The veteran paladin paused for a brief moment, looking into Arthas before he nodded solemnly. "Understood. But maintain your ground, lad! This fight isn't over yet!." With that, Uther turned and sprinted back towards the city.

"Uther!", Arthas called out, splitting a Ghoul's body with Light's Vengeance, where the elder Paladin turned to face him. "May the Light be with you."

The veteran Paladin only offered a small smile. "To you as well, lad.", he replied before he ran back.

Arthas watched his mentor go and couldn't help but feel to himself after all these hears. It was as if he knew, deep within his soul, that this might be the last time he would see Uther.

With a heavy heart, he regained focus and returned to the fray, shouting orders to his men and swinging his weapon with renewed vigor. He couldn't shake the sense of foreboding that had settled upon him, but he pushed it aside. For now that is.


Kel'thuzad was led away in chains by the Silver Hand Paladins Ballador the Bright and Sage the Truthbearer as the battle went on. The two paladins exchanged grim looks, as well as their disdain at the man who brought the plague into their lands. "I can assure you, my friends, I have no knowledge of them arrived. Poor timing, I might say.", the necromancer spoke on a sarcastic tone.

"You dare to claim innocence?" Ballador spat in disgust dripping from every syllable as he tightened his grip on the necromancer's chain. "After everything you've done to our people?"

Kel'thuzad's smug smile never wavered. "Innocence is a fleeting concept in these times, Paladin," he replied, his voice a chilling whisper. "But rest assured, the fate of your precious city is sealed."

Sage's eyes flashed with anger. "Silence your blasphemous tongue," he warned, raising his warhammer.

The necromancer chuckled darkly. "You think you can silence such fates?" He leaned in closer to the paladins, his breath hot against their faces. "You are but pawns in a game you cannot begin to comprehend."

The two paladins tightened their grips, with restrained fury. "Your arrogance will be your downfall," Ballador lowly warned.

"Or perhaps," Kel'thuzad mused, "it will be your salvation."

The two paladins hurried through the dimly lit corridors of the dungeon, the clanking of Kel'thuzad's chains echoing through the hollow halls. As they approached the cell where he was to be incarcerated, their steps faltered at the sight that awaited them. The ground was slick with the lifeblood of the slain guards and wardens, their bodies contorted in macabre displays of a slaughter. And there, standing amidst the carnage, was Tichondrius his massive wings, twin horns and hoof-like feet made him unmistakable.

"What an unexpected reunion," the Dreadlord mused. He cast a dismissive glance at the two paladins. "You have served your purpose, and now I shall take my due."

"You will not have him," Ballador declared, raising his sword and shield. Sage echoed his resolve, his warhammer held high.

Tichondrius tilted his head, considering them. "Your lives are meaningless to me," he said, his voice like a serpent's hiss. "But I will spare you, if you but hand over the necromancer."

Kel'thuzad chuckled darkly. "My apologies for the inconvenience," he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Tichondrius, I had no idea you cared so much."

The Dreadlord's smile grew wider. "We still have need of your talents," he said. "You would be wise to reconsider your loyalties."

He raised his large hand, where it glowed in an aura that neither Paladin knew. "If not...then allow me to rectify that."


The dungeon could be mistaken for a slaughter house. The stench of blood and decay was evident as Uther approached the scene of the grisly ambush. He fell upon the lifeless forms of the guards and wardens before he looked at Sage, who lay with a gaping hole in his chest where his heart should be, his eyes staring lifelessly into the abyss. Ballador, the last line of defense, was barely clinging to life, his breaths shallow and pained while Tichondrius' grip tightened around the paladin's throat.

"I'm...sorry... Uther" Ballador croaked, blood bubbling from his mouth before his neck was broken by the grip, with the sound of a unnerving snap echoing the dungeon.

Tichondrius threw Ballador's body to the ground with a careless flick of his wrist behind Uther. He looked at him calculatingly as he regarded Uther. "Your prince sends you to die in his stead?" He hissed. "How...touching."

"The necromancer will not leave this place," Uther declared. "I will see to it that he faces justice for his crimes."

Kel'thuzad chuckled darkly from the side with amusement. "The Light is but a candle in the face of the endless night," he whispered.

"Then let us see if your candle burns bright enough," Tichondrius challenged, his fel-infused hand crackling with dark energy.

Uther raised his war hammer. "May the Light's virtue, guide me...", he prayed.


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