A Child of Noble Birth (Warcraft High Elf SI/OC)

[Midas_Man]

It's one thing to be iseakied once.

It's another to be iseakied a second time!

But that's what happened.

A little over a century ago I was yoinked from Azeroth to this New(er) World while I was practicing my portal making talents. I was supposed to end up in Outlands, specifically Shatrath City.

The fact I ended up in a whole different world altogether should be the explanation of how that went.

Unlike my first time, I was hardly being forced to reincarnate as a child. I was an adult (elven at least), and I still had all my powers here. There were other races and people here, who all thankfully spoke my language, so no barrier there either. Hell I could even still magically communicate with everyone on the 'other side' and my hearthstone was still working normally. Meaning I was hardly stuck here.

Might have taken a few (dozen) weeks to get it working, but I finally managed to make a point to point portal between here and Azeroth, with Verana's constant help, so I could go to and from this world at will! So that was neat~

With all that settled, and making the necessary arrangements, I decided to go on a long overdue vacation.

Well vacation in that I got to explore and galivant across a whole new world! Even got to bring along my friends, when their schedules allowed of course.

Places to see, baddies to destroy, loot to be taken from the fallen!

What more could I ask for?

And so that's what I did.

For almost a century I let my wanderlust overtake me. I slew monsters, saved kingdoms, swept maidens off their feet, and went on epic adventures!

…well maybe a little too epic.

You see, the people of this world, regardless of race, were….

How should I put this….

Weak?

No, that's too dismissive.

Underpowered?

Okay that's better.

For a lack of better words, this place was underpowered to an extreme.

Even discounting that I tended to rub shoulders with very important people, and interacted with very powerful champions and entities, this place seemed very fragile. Beyond a few figures, who were incredibly rare, most of these people were utterly underpowered compared to me and the norm for Azeroth.

Now as much as I enjoy a good ego stroke with constant praises and being a household name across the civilized world, it does tend to get a bit much. Especially since it just felt plain weird to get all this attention.

Like I am hardly a stranger to one shotting monsters, but to wipe out whole armies single handed without even digging deep into my mana reservoirs? And when I say 'armies', that's not an exaggeration. I once saved a kingdom from a rampaging horde of fifty thousand beastmen and it only took me an hour of casting magic.

Either something wasn't right in this world, or something was in the water on Azeroth to make me this OP.

I mean, I'm not complaining per say. Having a risk free adventure is fun every now and then, but it does make me worry for the safety of the people here. What if the remnants of the Burning Legion ended up here? Or if someone like me from another world got here?

Thankfully that didn't seem to be the case for the moment.

So keeping an eye open and an ear to ground for any word of such figures showing up, I enjoyed my century long vacation.

Whereas on Azeroth I was just Syllia Dawnguard, Magistrix of the Convocation in Stormwind, a Champion of the Alliance. But here I had a slightly longer list of accolades.

Here I was Syllia Dawnguard, leader of Silver Covenant, the greatest adventurer team in the world. I was the Savior of the Dragon Kingdom, The Pinnacle of Strength, The Silver Knight of Justice, the Slayer of the Tyrannical Elf King, and The Hero King!

A century into this vacation and I was already starting to feel like I was 'back home' in Azeroth.

Maybe even worse! At least on Azeroth even with all my fame, I could at least try and blend into a crowd of high elves given how 'common' my look is. I'm the high elf with blue eyes and blonde hair, really distinct features I know.

But here?

Unless I had an illusion over myself, I was going to get swarmed by a crowd or stared at with reverence and awe. Made even worse when I 'accidentally' got a kingdom and now all my movements are tracked by 'everyone' who's anyone. As far as they were concerned I was either the epitome of heroism or a walking WMD that needed eyes on all the time.

Add on the weight of the aforementioned kingdom on my back, and unfucking it from whatever that idiot Hougan was trying to do, ending the war he started, forging relations with other nations, and maybe I was being selfish but I just wanted to take a break from it all.

Yes, I wanted a break from my vacation. The irony was not lost on me.

So I decided to go back to Azeroth for a couple of years to 'unwind' then pop back.

I was hardly leaving unannounced of course. I could only imagine the reaction people would have if 'The Silver Knight' mysteriously went missing. So I did all the paperwork in the Elf Kingdom to make sure a panic attack didn't grip it, or the rest of the world, when I left.

I just told everyone that I was going off to 'explore undiscovered lands' and that I would be back in a few years.

And so I did.

After all, how much could the situation change in the New World in just a couple years?

Hmph…..

--
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".... and following the attack on the Holy Kingdom, the Demon Lord Jaldabaoth has seemingly been slain by the Sorcerer King who has extended an offer of support to help rebuild the ravaged kingdom," a nearsighted clerk read off the events that occurred after I left.

Given he stopped, I could only assume that he was finally done.

I slumped in my cozy chair littered with piles upon piles of reports.

Apparently, within months of leaving, a lich appeared a established a kingdom around the city of E-Rantel, vassalized the Baharut Empire, re established trade relations with the Dwarf Kingdom and the wider world, established his own competing Adventurers Guild, and most recently drove off a demonic led demi-human invasion of the Holy Kingdom of Roble.

Sure, I expected some stuff to happen while I was gone. But this….

Me and my damn big mouth.

"So let me get this straight," I wanted to make sure I understood what my minister just relayed to me. "Half a year after I leave a monstrous being known as Ainz Ooal Gown appears out of nowhere and carves out his own kingdom. He slaughter tens out thousands in a single battle and took the vital city of E-Rantel from Re-Estize, vassalized the Baharuth Empire, establish a trade relationship with the Dwarf Kingdom, and saved the Roble Holy Kingdom from a demi-human army led by a self proclaimed 'Demon Emperor'. Did I get all that right?"

"Yes, your Majesty."

"...and none of you thought to contact me about all of that?" I gestured to the dozen people in the room. Did no one see the issue here!?

"The Sorcerous Kingdom has made no move towards us," another courtier spoke up, " nor that of our allies in the Dragon Kingdom."

"And given that the more recent events occurred only months ago, with your return near, we believed it was hardly a matter worthy of your immediate attention."

I swear I am going to have a long conversation about what constitutes being worthy of my attention!

"And even should this monster make moves to subdue us, what of it?" another clerk questioned with a sense of smugness, his heterochromia marking him clearly as one of the former king's kids. "As powerful as he is, his magic is little more than parlor tricks compared to your might, my King. And if he were so bold as to take the field himself, against you, it's obvious who the winner of such a contest would be."

This got a lot of approving murmurs from the gathered bureaucrats.

"Indeed, our King destroyed Ainz Ooal Gown and his menagerie of monsters."

"She'd crush his undead hordes beneath her boots."

"He'd be a fool to challenge the most powerful being in the world."

"Even that so-called 'Dark Hero' is nothing compared to the Hero King."

At least invite me out to dinner before you jerk me off guys….

"Enough," I raise my hand, getting them all to finally shut up. "There's foreign power gobbling up land at a rapid pace and headed by an incredibly powerful necromancer. We'll treat this situation with the seriousness it deserves."

"Then, what is your will, your majesty?"

What indeed…

Rather than immediately answer, I glance out the window to Crescent Lake, my private palace, giving me a stunning sight of the city circling the water below. Fifty years ago, this place was a dump. Oh sure it looked nice, but a quick walk down the city's streets would show even the average person just how poorly planned and thought out the layout was. Roads going to nowhere, empty buildings just for show.

The whole place reeked of being some oversize Potemkin Village.

But now, fifty years on and with some substantial help from several Convocation members who I called in favors from, this place finally looked like a proper city. Maybe even a bit like Silvermoon, but that's hardly a surprise given the people I went to for help in urban planning.

But in this situation, something bigger was going on. I could feel it in my bones. Individuals randomly popping up out of nowhere, more powerful than everything else around them, and going on to make great change across the known world?

Gee, didn't that sound familiar…

While my first reaction is to condemn this Ainz Ooal Gown, that's more of a knee jerk reaction about hearing an undead do anything massive. He might have killed thousands in battle, but so did I. He might have carved out a kingdom for himself, but so did I in a sense. He hasn't shown any cruelty I'd associate with the Scourge, but that could all just be some front for his master plan. Or maybe I'm just letting my own bias infect my judgment.

That Jaldabaoth claims to be a 'Demon Emperor' but the way they describe him, he hardly sounds like a creature of the Legion. None of his creatures sounded like fel based demons I know, nor did there seem to be any fel powers in use. If he was an 'Emperor' of something, I certainly didn't know it.

And then there's that new adventurer pair, Momon and Nabe. The mysterious duo who seemed hellbent on speed running their way to beating my record of fame. It's good that he was in Re-Estize to stop Jaldabaoth's attack, but I just couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to him than meets the eye.

Four powerful people, all interacting with one another and appearing in close proximity to each other.

Coincidence?

Or intentional?

…

I needed more information.

"We're going to do our due diligence and figure out what the hell is going on," I decide, returning my attention to the assembled court. "Summon the Bahruth and Re-Estize ambassadors, I want to hear what is going on in those countries from their lips. Also, send word to the Draconic Kingdom's ambassador that I wish to have a meeting with the Queen as soon as she is available."

As the gaggle before me agreed and went on to carry out my orders, I couldn't help but shake the feeling that I might need to call in some help. Not just any help, but the help of 'Silver Covenant' if things went belly up.

Noly will be the easiest, Farstriders have a great deal of autonomy in their actions and I doubt she'd say to not stop a potential danger to others.

Elsia and Verana might be tricky, magistrixs of opposing political bodies, but I should be able to talk them into it, the uniqueness of the situation if nothing else will draw them.

Cera ought to be up for anything that leads to helping people, same goes for Sorlan.

I know for a fact Nastrasz wasn't doing anything, so he's in for sure.

That just left Keno and Antilene.

The short stack vampire should still be with Blue Rose, so I might have to borrow her from them.

As for Antilene….

Well she was going to be a challenge. She might be my friend, but she was also a borderline sociopath. While hardly a person who will go out of her way to harm others unless they're hostile to her (or her targets), she'll also hardly go out of her way to help others. Appealing to her 'better nature' wasn't going to cut it.

Eh, I'll think of something.

I pushed aside the worries about the Theocracy, the Demon Emperor, undead kings, and even that Dark Hero for a later time.

Overall, my first day back to my 'vacation' felt more like going to work then anything. I fell asleep, sinking into the oversized royal bed, overthinking and worrying about that nagging feeling that something bad was just on the horizon.

And sadly, it was rarely wrong.

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AN: Fiddled around with this for a while, decided to finally post it (here).

Set in an future set after the 'story' is over and Silly got bored. Bored Silly is a dangerous thing. Now two universes are about to collide!

Can Silly stop Mr. Gown's wild ride? Or perhaps even save Ainz from himself?

No idea!

At the very least, it won't be such a cakewalk for Nazarick regardless with Warcraft characters being able to come on over and give them a real challenge.

 

[Miho Chan]

Oh my god this is hilarious, I love it

 

[Warmachine375]

I can imagine Ainz's reaction that he's finally not alone when it comes to being Isekai-ed.

Poor guy being all alone in his own show. Faking til you make it all way in attempt to get attention of his friends or any players of Yggdrasil if they're on the world as well.

 

[Brainstorm813]

I thought we got a new chapter, but it looks like the sidestory from SB has finally been posted here.

 

[Reese]

Quoting from TV Tropes: "The Bavarian Fire Drill is a Social Engineering tactic where you get what you need done by acting as if you already have the authority to do it."

Click to shrink...

Well, she's doing that now, but what I was saying is that it seems like there's a significant chance she ends up retroactively a magistrix. Which might still count if it was a goal of hers here, but as far as I'm aware the idea hasn't even occurred to her as a possibility.

 

[TaleMaster Redux]

Say Midas have the people here at SV done something to you why do you torture them with delayed chapters that are months behind the other sites like SB and QQ.

I know the Patreon, Kofi and those sites get a pass but what have the people of SV done to you that they have to be tortured with a release schedule of months behind the other sites.

Or are you emulating FGO with the SB, QQ and SV split by making the other sites have late releases so that they are able to train their Clairvoyance to A rank (FGO NA players have EX rank with them able to predict up to 2 years)

Just curious.

 

[Midas_Man]

Say Midas have the people here at SV done something to you why do you torture them with delayed chapters that are months behind the other sites like SB and QQ.

I know the Patreon, Kofi and those sites get a pass but what have the people of SV done to you that they have to be tortured with a release schedule of months behind the other sites.

Or are you emulating FGO with the SB, QQ and SV split by making the other sites have late releases so that they are able to train their Clairvoyance to A rank (FGO NA players have EX rank with them able to predict up to 2 years)

Just curious.

Click to shrink...

Well the answer is quite simple~

Because I sometimes forget I have an SV account.

Not a complaint to the site itself, merely that most of my activity comes from SB, FF, and QQ. Add in SV and Scribble Hub to the mix and I have 5 sites I need to keep track of for my stories. Eventually, stuff just falls through the cracks. It's not something done maliciously, it just happens.

 

[Midas_Man]

Space Battleship Warcraft 2200 (an original "Anime" series)

Anime Original Story Perspective

In 2193, Earth made first contact with aliens as part of an organization called the "Iron Horde". Despite a peaceful attempt at first contact, the aliens responded with hostility.

War ensues.

While the United Earth Navy desperately attempts to hold off the encroaching alien advance, they are pushed back. Day by day, battle by battle, planet by planet, the outgunned UEN is steadily pushed back to Earth.

On every world and colony, from Ganymede and Europa, to Ceres and Mars, the aliens show not only their technological sophistication and utter brutality, but also the worldly powers they could command that can only be described as magic.

Despite their valor, Earth's defenders fell one after another to the alien onslaught.

It was only after the Second Battle of Luna, where the brilliant Admiral Siegfried was able to achieve the greatest human victory of the war, that the alien advance was checked. But the victory was pyrrhic as the UEN could barely sustain itself after the heavy losses suffered, while the Iron Horde were still capable of bombarding the planet and launching raids to the surface.

A status quo ensued, where the invaders would obliterate cities from orbit or launch ground raids to exterminate or abduct the population, only for these attacks to be met by dogged Earth resistance and repelled.

Over and over the cycle continued.

By 2199, a third of the planet's population is dead, most of the survivors have retreated underground to escape bombardment or abduction by alien raiders, Earth's military forces are exhausted, agricultural output has almost ceased entirely, and only a fraction of her industrial base remains. Projections show that the United Earth Government will be completely incapable of any meaningful resistance by the following year.

Yet as all hope seemed lost a potential game changer revealed itself.

A device of alien origin, yet unlike anything the Iron Horde have shown, arrived on Earth. It brought a message of hope, that told of a way to end the war if humanity could reach these new alien's location, the world of Draenor, on the opposite side of the Galaxy. The device also contained schematics of weapons and designs for a faster than light drive to travel across the stars.

In secret, the UEG retrofitted an old colony ship, the Argos, with the technology as one last 'hail mary' to save the human race.

It is now the year 2200, and mankind's last hope, the Argos, prepares to set out into the void in what appears to be one last gasp of humanity before going screaming into the dark.

All were utterly unaware of the impact this one ship would have on the course of history…

Syllia perspective:

Syllia Dawnguard wakes up one day and realizes her fantasy iseaki adventure has been hoodwinked by a space opera setting that incorporates large swaths of Warcraft lore into its world building. Some events have already happened, some have been rushed to the forefront of the timeline, while others are seemingly delayed for no reason that she can find.

While magic still works as it did in Azeroth, she found that spaceships are powered by magic and traverse the great beyond into vast fleet actions that can best be described as 'world war two in space'.

Everyone's memories seem as if this world was always the case, and even her own memories have blurred to show her what this version of herself was doing beforehand. The people here are the same as they were before, friends, family, and the like, but not a single one of them seem to think anything is out of place.

Apparently she is set to take command of her first ship, the Silver Covenant, and is to be deployed to an active war zone along the Amani-Quel'dorei border.

As she travels to take command of the massive vessel, bemoaning the skin tight space suit she must wear (the traditional grab of any female officer on a spaceship!) she tells herself that it 'can't get any worse, right?'.

Enter stage left, a Earth spaceship called the Argos that's been on its own anime trope filled adventure for nearly half a year. Complete with its own "main characters" and technicolor haired crew.

Syllia and her big mouth….

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A non-comprehensive list of Galactic Politics in the Galaxy (as of 2200)

Super Powers

The Grand Alliance - A federation of multiple interstellar nations, the Alliance consists of powerful cultures and groups bound by their deep commitments to concepts of nobility, honor, faith, justice, and sacrifice. Striving to represent these high ideals, its many different peoples all contribute their technical, arcane, and spiritual wisdom for the greater good. They see themselves as the bulwark of civilization in the Galaxy.

The "New" Horde - A coalition of disparate races and cultures loosely joined in an alliance of convenience against a hostile universe that would see them destroyed.They are outsiders, surviving the obstacles of space by bonding together, fighting as family, comrades, and even uneasy allies. Focused, ferocious, and sometimes monstrous, the Horde values strength and honor and will relentlessly oppose any who threaten their freedom to choose their own destiny.

The Iron Horde - A splinter group of the original Horde who now threaten the galaxy. Driven by Orc supremacist ideology, the Iron Horde attempt to conquer the galaxy they see as rightfully theirs. While initially met with success, the combined might of the Horde and Alliance has ground their war effort at a standstill . Stalled, their fleets now venture into uncharted space to find resources to reinvigorate their war machine and break the deadlock.

Great Powers

The Kingdom of Quel'Thalas - the nation of the quel'dorei (high elves), one of the oldest political entities in the galaxy. An absolute mageocracy, led by the King and overseen by the Convocation, it maintains an isolationist, though cordial, stance on foreign policy in regards to the other interstellar states, even as the Iron Horde draws ever closer to its own borders. It is currently involved in border clashes with the various troll states along its periphery, primarily the Zandalari Empire.

The Zandalari Empire - the oldest and most powerful of the troll nations, the Zandalari see themselves as the protectors of all troll kind. While withdrawn from most interstellar politics, it has grown ever more active following the high elf incursions of its brother nations territories. They maintain active ties with the New Horde via the troll groups who inhabit it.

Darnassus - the home of the kaldorei (night elves), they are the cultural remnant of the ancient Kaldori Empire. They are allies of the Grand Alliance, cordial, if cold, with the Kingdom of Quel'Thalas, and maintain terse relations with the New Horde. They are at war with the Iron Horde.

Middle Powers

The Exodar - a city state formed around the wreckage of the void ship Exodar. It is the home and refuge of the draenei. They maintain strong relations with both the Alliance and Darnassus, friendly ties with the high elves and the Zandalari, but strained relations with the Horde due to past grievances. They are currently at war with the Iron Horde.

The Kingdom of Suramar - the home of the shal'dorei (nightborne). A former province of the ancient kaldorei empire, it isolated itself for millennia following the Empire's fall and the War of the Ancients, only to reemerge to a vastly changed Galaxy. It maintains friendly relations with the Kingdom of Quel'Thalas and terse relations with Darnassus.

The Kingdom of Gilneas - a modestly sized human nation that left the Grand Alliance following disagreements in the aftermath of the Second War. It has since sealed its borders to the wider galaxy, though reports indicate that the nation is embroiled in a brutal civil war alongside strange monster attacks that leave whole cities emptied in their wake.

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AN: Posted to QQ (and SB) a while back, didn't know where to post here, was stuck in my head since.

Essentially I imagined Syllia as a side/major supporting character to a Space Battleship Yamato (or StarBlazers) inspired universe with a Warcraft worldbuilding and coat of paint.

Given I am running hilariously behind in all my works recently (nervous laugh) I decided to post this here as well to show some "activity". Decided to just toss it into the Apocrypha section for good measure.

Also skin tight plug suit uniforms for all the women as per sci fi tradition.

I regret nothing.

 

[Midas_Man]

Quel'Danas, Sunwell Isle.

The island, situated off Silvermoon's northern coast, sat at the center of a vast intersection of ley lines, the largest in the Eastern Kingdoms. A place of quiet contemplation and serenity. Many made the pilgrimage to the isle every day to bask in the warmth of the Sunwell's radiance, and marvel at the font of their people's power.

Yet today was no such day.

While the isle still held some of the calm it was prized for, it was akin to that found before a mighty, but terrible, storm.

Plumes of smoke from the Eversong burning were clear as day to anyone who looked upon the mainland. As were the muted cries of terrified citizens as they attempted to board ships along Silvermoon's massive docks, their voices carried across the narrow North Sea to Quel'Danas and if the windows were open into the Magister's Terrace where Anasterian currently held court.

Or the closest approximation of a court with so many magisters overseeing the defense of the kingdom, or their own estates, his court was reduced to his inner circle and the Grand Magister.

Even here, he was not isolated.

News was constantly flowing into his ears; each tidbit worse than the last.

The kingdom was being ravaged, countless citizens were dead, the military was in shambles and retreating on all fronts, and the undead Scourge would soon reach Silvermoon's walls.

In response, Anasterian had given the order for the gates to be sealed. If there were stragglers still outside, be they citizens or soldiers, they would be brought over the walls by dragonhawk, spell, or whatever means were possible but he could not risk the undead breaching the city. Their flying creatures were already being spotted testing the sky around the city, he would not allow these creatures to pour through the streets.

While his generals gave speeches to the men about the righteousness of their battle, of how Silvermoon's walls had never been breached, fear was rampant in the streets. In some places they were packed with throngs attempting to escape via ship, pushing and shoving in large masses of bodies, trampling over one another for a spot on any ship leaving port. Other streets were silent as the grave, save for quiet prayers and soft crying.

Death came to Silvermoon.

Monsters stalked the Eversong, and the dead rose from their graves by necromancers to slaughter the living. The citizenry claimed first that this was a human problem, not worthy of their attention.

Now some whispered that it was the end of days…

While absent from international matters, his realm was hardly deaf or blind. He may have been mostly bedridden, but his magisters, ambassadors, emissaries, and other courtiers have been keeping him up to date on matters beyond the kingdom's borders.

While listening to reports come in, and pieces moved across a great map to show his forces being driven back in all directions, Anasterian's mind wandered as he wrote new orders and penned letters.

He wondered if his lack of surprise, or reaction at all, from the initial news of the undead plague in Lordaeron or its later fall, was written off as him having an 'off' day. Or that his jingoist rhetoric of hearing the horde march towards Quel'Thalas was merely his mind wandering to a battle fought long ago.

It was no secret that his health was failing, merely how severe it was was kept hidden from the general population.

While a slow decline, decades in the making, it was inevitable.

Even during the Second War he struggled simply ordering his troops about without constant attention and care. Why, just a week ago he could barely hold court let alone be expected to properly manage a war council.

Magnificent as it was, the healing properties of the Sunwell can only go so far, and only stave off the inevitable so long. While most days he felt more skin and bones than truly alive, his mind was as sharp as ever, though in recent years even that has been fading.

Years ago, fearing there would be a time when his health failed him at a critical moment, he had his apothecaries and alchemists brew him a potion to fortify his constitution and allow him to reign as the king his people deserved. They warned such a potion, given his already declining health, would not come without risks to himself.

When he received word of the undead crossing into the Eversong, he drank the elixir. A potion that rejuvenated him to an extent he hadn't felt in over a millennia. For the first time in decades, he held court without his joints aching, with his mind clear as day, and he spoke with all the fire of his youth.

But such rejuvenation merely delayed the inevitable.

They warned him this rejuvenated state would not last.

In a few months, perhaps as many as six, his condition would begin to decline. Rapidly. They spared no detail in how he would rot from the inside out and how he could potentially exist in this state for up to a decade before expiring.

Not that Anasterian feared he was going to live long enough to deal with those shortcomings.

"Your Majesty," a courier spoke up above the rest, his quiet voice betrayed concern and hesitation. "Given the…extraordinary situation, would it not be prudent to evacuate to a more secure location?"

"Are you saying the walls of Silvermoon and the royal navy around us are insufficient?" Anasterian countered, not looking up from the letter he was writing. He had long finished his missive to the Grand Alliance in Dalaran, but the personal letter to his son was proving far more difficult. "Or is it that you doubt the abilities of Magister Fire-Path to hold the walls?"

What forces that could have rallied to the walls of Silvermoon. Her walls were lined and manned with thousands of soldiers and rangers alike. What forces that can't be rallied in good order to the capital, regardless of the status or cohesion, were directed to disengage the enemy and retreat.

To where? Anywhere they could. Preferable the western coastline with their backs to the sea.

There was no point in feeding this undead horde more troops piecemeal.

The move seemingly saved half of his remaining forces.

The other half meanwhile….

"With all due respect, it's not a matter of ability," the courtier approached his dias, stopping several steps before the throne as the royal guard flanking Anasterian glared at him. "Is it not true that the objective of the undead is to defile the Sunwell."

"It is," the king sighed, realizing where this conversation was going. If he was any one beyond his inner court, he would accuse them of cowardice and order them to the frontlines the moment the topic of running was broached.

"If you remain here, your safety cannot be guaranteed."

"I am not decrepit yet, and what of it if I was," dipping his quill for more ink, he finally signed the letter. While hardly satisfied, too brusque for his liking. Though he hardly had the time to properly go into excessive detail to his son about all that has transpired or will most likely happen in the coming months. "Either they shall fall, or I shall. I am the King of the High Home, and I will not see some monster defile Sunwell without so much as a fight."

"But if you…fell your majesty," the man was almost terrified to say the word, as if the very notion was abhorrent to his very being. "To…fall against such a foe that can raise the dead and twist them to his desires, such a fate would-"

"Would be a lot better than if he ran."

A new voice spoke above the throng courtiers: a woman with long blonde hair. She strode into the chamber without even an introduction, even softly brushing aside a courtier who attempted to bar her path. Her clothes, while pedestrian in style, were clearly made of the finest silks and weaves. A large chest floated beside her as she made her way to a nearby couch.

Anestairan goaned.

He was afraid she'd do something like this…

"Excuse me, but who are you?"

"Not important," she replied with glib, reaching for a piece of fruit offered by a servant. Biting into it with a wet crunch, she continued to address the courtier even as she chewed. "What is important is that he doesn't cut and run."

"Do you have no shame?" another courtier spoke up, her face twisting from the woman's tone, attitude, and general appearance. Though it was clear her biting tone had no effect on the jovial expression of the new woman. "To address his Majesty in such a manner."

"Not much," she took another bite. "Now I might be only half as smart as I think I am, but even I know that if the King flees, because that's what it will look like to everyone, what little morale we have left with will vanish. I know this, so what excuse does shorty over there have?"

"Shorty," the courtier puffed up. "You insolent….I'll have you know I am the Lord-"

"Thank you, your excellencies," Anasterian spoke up, de-escalating the situation, "for your council, but I believe a recess would do us all some good. We shall reconvene within the hour."

While they looked among themselves for a moment, the crowd slowly filtered their way out of the chamber. One by one, collecting their belongings and whispering amongst themselves, a few gave the woman disparaging looks, the doors were shut softly behind them. Leaving the king, the Grand Magister, his closest royal guards, and the ancient woman alone.

Siad woman ate an apple like some squirrel with its cheeks puffed out. Looking very pleased with herself.

"Did you have to rile them up like that?" Belo'vir asked, the Grand Magister taking issue with her antics.

"Stupid questions get stupid answers," she wiped lips with the helm of her sleeve. "I'm also a little too old to care about this bullshit."

Hmph…Old she says.

An understatement if the king ever heard it.

The woman was ancient and probably older than the Kingdom itself.

Even Dath'Remar himself wrote of the woman in detail. Of how she helped organize the flight of their ancestors, even determining the placement of Silvermoon itself when they first came ashore all those millenia ago.

As has every king since written of similar interactions. Of how she appeared again and again across high elven history. Always giving almost clairvoyant advice about the future, then vanishing until the next point of conflict where her wisdom would be needed.

When he took the crown, she revealed herself to him. She was the one who urged him to begin cultivating relations with the scattered human tribes. It was her prodding that created the first alliance of men and elves during the Troll Wars.

Yet she also advises of future events. Anasterian was counseled about the Dark Portal and the Horde that would pour from it decades before the actual fact. At that time, she urged him to join the Grand Alliance that would form in the immediate aftermath.

He ignored her that time, though the sly smile she gave him when he claimed he would not join the Alliance all but assured him he would be, in one manner or another. So he was hardly surprised when Anduin Lothar came before him and urged him as the last direct descendent of the Arathi to honor the pact he made with the human's forefathers.

Oh how that woman snickered in the shadows as he publicly devoted the full might of Quel'Thalas to the Alliance he claimed he would have no part of.

So when she appeared before him once again a decade ago, claiming the return of the Burning Legion, the same demonic horde that his forefathers wrote nearly destroyed the world ten millenia prior, was imminent, he took it with all the seriousness such a prediction came with.

Supplies were quietly stockpiled, contingencies were created for the worst possible outcomes, war plans were laid, and, with the utmost secrecy and care, lines of communication were reestablished between the High Home, isolated Suramar, and those tree dwelling kaldorei that drove his ancestors into exile.

And events had proceeded mostly along the paths she foretold.

There was a plague of undeath in Lordaeron.

The crown prince of Lordaeron falling to the darkness and leading the undead to destroy his own homeland.

Even the undead marching on Quel'Thalas next was known ahead of time.

He revealed the information to only his closest advisors, who planned for every possible eventuality.

This foe was the ancient one the high elven people were destined to fight once more. For they alone were capable enough to lead the world against the coming darkness. His ancestors drove the Burning Legion from Azeroth once before. Now it was time for their descendants to lead the charge once more.

They would drive back these demonic invaders from their world with those willing to stand beside them in this great struggle. If not the Quel'Thalas, who would lead the charge against this foe?

The divided humans and dwarfs?

The gnomes?

The greed driven goblins?

The orcs?

He would not even entertain the idea of trolls leading the charge.

Perhaps the dragons, but they lacked true unity and cohesion to hold the burden.

No. Only the high elves were ready for this task.

And so they planned, theorizing and strategizing the best and worst outcomes of such a conflict. If the fate of the world rested upon their shoulders, nothing could be left to chance.

The worst case scenario they could convince assumed half the kingdom would fall in the first fortnight, followed by an advance to Silvermoon by the end of the year and a siege that would last until the end of the conflict. It was even proposed that the city's barrier would be breached and fighting would spill into the city proper. The death toll was expected to climb to truly disgusting highs, but victory was assured.

The true battle would be fought across the sea, in ancient Kalimdor. An expeditionary force had already been prepared, stocked, and has set sail for that distant land using what few maps remain from the first crossing. This force would land and march to Nordrassil to meet this ancient foe with their estranged kin.

This was the conflict they had planned, stocked, and readied their fortifications for.

Yet less than a week into this invasion almost quarter of his people were dead and nearly half his military was dead or dying.

The speed and sheer brutality of the Scourge exceeded the most pessimistic predictions.

"Did you have to rile them up like that?" Belo'vir shot the woman a look, chastising her almost like a child.

"Stupid questions get stupid answers," she wiped lips with the helm of her sleeve. "I'm also a little too old to care about this bullshit. Anyway, you seem chipper than usual Anasterian. Positively radiant even."

"Radiant," he huffed, what an interesting choice of words. "What about yourself? Were you successful?"

"Naturally," her chest puffed up, she kicked the chest across the floor towards Anasterian's throne much to the chagrin of the Grand Magister. "See for yourself."

"Please don't do that," the Grand Magister grumbled, his face twisting into a mixture of fear and concern as the container slid to a halt.

"You think I'd be kicking it across the room if I thought anything could break? These chests are wrapped up in so many enchantments I could literally drop this from the highest spire and not only will the chest be fine, but everything inside will be as well."

"Please don't."

"I mean, we tested it like then when it was just filled with empty vials, so I'm guessing it will work with filled ones."

"Oh Light, have mercy…."

"They're fine. See for yourself," with a smile, she snapped her fingers and the chest swung open. Inside were a set of ten vials, all shone with the flickering light of pure arcane power. Each filled with a sliver of the Sunwell's arcane waters.

"And how many were you able to give our forces before they departed," Anasterian could feel the radiance just by holding his hand near them. A pale imitation of the Sunwell, but capable of creating wellsprings of power in excess to whatever was naturally available to them.

"About twenty chests or so," she shrugged.

"What about our.. Cousins across the sea? What did their High Priestess say?"

"Ah yes," the woman rubbed the back of her neck. "Tyranda said that she 'acknowledges the highborne's return'."

"Oh, she 'acknowledges'," he snorted. Yes, that very much sounded like the woman from the handful of correspondence they shared. Honestly, the way she used that word, 'highborne', in the handful of letters they exchanged made it come across as some sort of slur.

"It's… better than I thought it would be," the ancient woman tried clinging to any positive results. "I honestly thought she'd say no at first just out of spite."

"How do you deal with that woman?" Belo'vir murmured, the magister having read the letters she sent back to Anasterian.

"Easily enough, we go way back. Helps that she doesn't think of me as a 'highborne', or if she does, I guess I'm just one of the 'good ones'," she chuckled.

How she could spark up a relationship with one of those elves he will never know.

In the king's mind, the kaldorei as a whole are a stagnant culture from what little he has heard. They were great once, after all his ancestors came from that land and built Quel'Thalas, but have since become stagnant in every sense of the word. Their customs have not changed, their language has not changed, their views have not changed, millenia have come and gone and nothing changes.

"Should the force expect a battle the moment they set foot on dry land?" Anasterian questioned, knowing too well the animosity that branch of their race held for his own for simply living a different way of life.

"If there is, it's not because she ordered it," she kicked her feet up onto the table, ignoring the dirt and grime stuck to her shoes. "I mean, we're about to see two cultures filled with people who think they are morally superior to one another and abhor the values the other holds are about to come into contact with one another for the first time in millenia. I'll honestly be surprised if nothing goes wrong."

"You mean you don't know?"

"I'm not omniscient," she rolled her eyes, reaching for another apple.

"Clearly," Anasterian mused, unable to hold in the questions he's wanted to ask her for days now. "If you were, you would have told me of the Gatekeeper being compromised by the turncloak in our midst rather than have me waste time and resources organizing this expeditionary force to fight a battle on the other side of the known world."

"....that was different," her voice became somber, losing a tinge of its youthful vigor.

"So did you, or did you not know our defenses were compromised?"

"...yes."

"Yes that you knew or yes that you did not-"

"Yes I knew," she bit into the apple. "It's a damn mess, but I couldn't say anything."

"Were you physically incapable? Did the words die in your throat whenever you uttered them? Did the world render you incapable of saying them?" The frustrations Anasterian had been building up began to bubble over as he vented his anger. "Because I can see no other reason why this news was kept from me when lives could have been saved!"

It wasn't about the Gatekeeper, deep down he knew that. But after days of staying stone faced in the face of so much death, hearing tales of whole communities being slaughtered and raised to fight onwards…

"...it was out of my hands, Anasterian."

"Out of your hands? Really? With everything you can do, this was too much!?" The king vaguely noticed the Belo'vir take a step back from his line of sight. "Crossing the sea to Kalimdor, unearthing Suramar from the depths, predicting events that will happen decades ahead of their time are all easy tasks to you, but THIS, THIS was too damn much!"

"...I understand your angry about the situation-"

"You're damn right I am! Look out the window," he pointed to the clouds of smoke over the horizon. "My home is burning, and my people are dying! Butchered like cattle and the single most powerful being here won't so much as lift a finger to stop it! You knew decades ago, perhaps even more before you told me! And you did nothing! Why!"

"...it's complicated."

"Oh I beg to differ. You either didn't do anything because your just a charlatan or you enjoy watching us suffer for some sick-"

"Watch it," her cold, dead words almost took the air out of Anasterian's gut. It almost reminded him of a disappointed mother scolding their child and just what sort of being he was speaking to. A being who wore the skin of a high elf, but was something far more than that. "You can vent and call me a fuck up all you want, that this is all my fault, but don't you dare say I wanted this to happen."

"Then why-"

"Because it's more complicated than what I want!" she finally raised her voice. The Ancient pointed across the room to an empty corner, "you have no idea how much I would do if I didn't have those guys hovering over me! They'd yank my leash in a heartbeat and then not even the little I can do would happen."

Anasterian looked to the empty space, using his magic to try and see if there was someone hidden before his eyes. Yet he found nothing. The Grand Magister's expression showed he tried as well and was met with similar results.

Yet clearly there was something there, and whatever it said made the woman frown, her foot tapped irritatedly on the table, eyes glaring back at the space.

"Oh shut the fuck up already! Can you just try and not be a cold blooded lizard for five minutes?" Silence rang to the king's ears, though again, the Ancient clearly did not approve of the reply. "Well who asked you anyway!" faster than his eyes could follow, the apple she was eating was thrown and shattered against the wall.

Taking a deep breath to calm herself, she ran a hand through her hair, "look, just take it from me, nearly all the stuff I want to do I can't do."

A short silence fell on the chamber.

Anasterian was the first to break the silence.

"...I apologize, that was uncalled for," the king apologized, his emotions back centered once more. What he said, his loss of emotional control, was unbecoming of a monarch.

"... no. No, it was entirely justified," she replied, swearing under her breath. "But it still doesn't change what I'm allowed to do."

"...so what now?" Anasterian finally broached.

"Now?" she nodded to herself, as if debating it. "Now you will send someone out to recover Sylvanas Windrunner from Fyrestone."

"Fyrestone?" Belo'vir questioned. "I thought the general was in Fairbreeze setting up a new line of defense?"

"She was, then Arthas nearly killed her… nearly," she smiled at the word as if it held greater significance. "You will recover her immediately."

"I'll make the arrangements at once." Anasterian answered, gesturing for a guard to bring in a messenger.

"Also bring in the one who saved her," the Ancient added with a smirk, "she'll have an interesting story to tell."

"As you say," the king nodded.

She looked as if she wished to say more, only for her head to jerk towards the empty corner and growl something under her breath. "It looks like my time here is up."

Grumbling more under her breath she looked to Belo'vir, "make sure more of those Sunwell vials are made and that they're all stored properly in the vaults beneath the island. Lock them down personally to make sure the seals work."

"Why do we need more? The expedition is already away-"

"Look I have to go now," she interrupted him, walking to the window and giving Anasterian one last look. "But you were right, there was more I could do. I've done what I am allowed to do, strained the limits of my leash, and all I can hope is that it was enough."

With a somber expression, she flickered out of existence.

The chamber door opened moments later, a courtier bowed to him, and awaited his commands.

But before he could even speak, a mighty roar shook the windows and foundations of the building.

Out the window Anasterian saw several large red dragons speed in the direction of the city, with another of their kind rising from the city itself to meet them above SIlvermoon's sky. The one who rose from the city began flying towards the Magister's Terrace, while the others began strafing the land beyond Silvermoon's walls with fire.

Anasterian stared at the sight, even more so when the dragon flying to the terrace landed and transformed into a beautiful red haired elf who made her way inside.

His mind raced with possibilities.

Yes….yes they will greatly help the defense.

--
--

The last thing he remembered was a bright flash of light.

Then pain.

Then the cold.

Then nothing at all.

And now he awoke in absolute darkness.

And dirt.

So much dirt.

Everytime he opened his mouth, more of the stuff went down his throat, and when he wanted to nurse his headache, but his arms were held in place by it.

Was he…buried alive?

His inability to move his arms or legs seemed to lean in that direction. Forget about a coffin, the schmucks buried him in a pit! What was this some sort of extreme hit and run!?

He tried to check his pockets to see if his wallet and phone were still there, but of course, he couldn't move either limbs and they were at a weird angle.

Wonderful. Just fucking wonderful….

Seeing no other way out, he started to dig.

Up, down, left, right, didn't matter. He just moved body and pushed soil around him.

And he dug.

And dug.

And dug.

For whatever reason, he felt calm. Probably less calm and more 'in shock'. No doubt the moment he got out of this and into a hospital he was going to have a massive panic attack about almost being buried alive.

So he dug.

And dug.

And dug.

Oh he hoped it wasn't still the middle of the night. It probably was knowing his luck, and the fact he hasn't suffocated down here. Oxygen deprivation can really ruin your brain after all.

Dig.

Dig.

Dig.

Dig.

Dig

Dig.

And then he felt it. His fingertips pierced a layer of dirt and felt cold, frigid air.

He sped up his digging, feeling more like an octopus wiggling its tendrils about as he put his whole body into it.

Then his arm was out.

Then another.

Then a leg.

Then his chest and head breached the surface.

Crawling out of the hole, his first mouthful of air was followed by heavy coughing as all the dirt he swallowed suddenly poured out of his mouth. His mouth was so dry not even saliva was coming out, just dirt.

Finally upright, he patted his sides down checking for his phone and wallet. He swore when he felt nothing. It wasn't just a hit and run, but theft as well?

For fuck sakes! How was he supposed to call for help now? He was lost in the middle of, what looked like, nowhere!

Briefly looking down at his hands, he couldn't help but notice they were a tad… pale.

But before he could focus on that any more, he heard a roar like a jet engine. He looked up to see if it was a plane landing or taking off, maybe an indication of an airport being nearby where he could ask for a phone or something.

Instead, he saw a red scaled monster flying high above.

Was that a… dragon?

…

No…

…a hallucination.

It had to be.

But he was a little out of it, and already filled with adrenaline, so he couldn't think that clearly. So he ran from the 'dragon'. Even as it spewed fire in every direction.

It just… couldn't be real.

Each step he took running was a strange sensation, like his legs were asleep, or that there was a lack of blood flow to them. And yet he still caught up more dirt. He hadn't taken a breath since he started running, coughing up dirt, yet he still felt fine.

He didn't think much of it. He just ran.

Soon enough, he tripped on some monstrous sized root and hit the ground face first into some dank puddle.

Propping himself up, he wiped away the mud that clung to his face and, for the first time, he looked at his reflection in the murky water. He noted the cuts and marks on his hands more closely now, making a note to get them disinfected asap. They looked deep, and could almost swear he saw a bit of bone.

But that was impossible.

SUre they felt odd, but they didn't hurt so it couldn't be that-

Then he saw it in the water. Before his eyes, in his tangled up clothes, with his face, a corpse with dead eyes staring back at him.

And so he screamed.


--------------------------------------
--------------------------------------

AN: Finally!

We get some insight into the King's mindset, some mysterious figure working behind the scenes, very not canon stuff happening, and some completely random guy wakes up (heh) in the Eversong using all sorts of 21st century Earth lingo looking like a walking corpse.

Probably just an oversight on my part~

Also, little aside as to WHY this took so damn long

I wanted to get Defense-III out last month, but due to a whole host of issues on my end, I'm hilariously behind in all my stuff at the moment. So what's new am I right~

So I am going with Plan B: posting the Interlude, that was set to come out after Defense - III, early.

Doesn't really change anything plot wise, might even make more sense in hindsight, but that's the plan for now.

Now all I have to do is finish all the other stuff for my other works.......

 

[Warmachine375]

Before his eyes, in his tangled up clothes, with his face, a corpse with dead eyes staring back at him.

And so he screamed.

Click to shrink...

This reminds me of this scene:

View: https://youtu.be/51DjxGrnZzE?si=cBcPMgz9Xn-lpqu1

 

[Ashaeron]

This is an interesting left hand turn, now we have a Syllia and a pre-Syllia copy of the same person. At least I'm assuming so. Dangerous.

 

[Jiven]

Time travel ~

 

[Pi In The Sky]

Before his eyes, in his tangled up clothes, with his face, a corpse with dead eyes staring back at him.

Click to shrink...

Oh this is the MCs human body that Syllia's mother buried all those years ago when she found her, isn't it?

 

[Reese]

Uh.
Well.
...A... lot, there. Much still unexplained.
I've been enjoying enough of your work enough that I'm hopeful I will continue to enjoy this story. To be clear, I'm not especially concerned the story will get bad, but this interlude seems to indicate it might be very different than I was expecting -- and knowing at present very little about what it will be, it's hard to know how much it'll be to my taste.

Good luck with the writing!

This is an interesting left hand turn, now we have a Syllia and a pre-Syllia copy of the same person. At least I'm assuming so. Dangerous.

Click to shrink...

And the mysterious woman may also be Syllia.

Oh this is the MCs human body that Syllia's mother buried all those years ago when she found her, isn't it?

Click to shrink...

Oh. Oh, yes, that makes sense, thank you!

 

[Warmachine375]

Oh this is the MCs human body that Syllia's mother buried all those years ago when she found her, isn't it?

Click to shrink...

It's gonna be awkward when Syllia sees that body in person and that needs to be get rid of or else a Dreadlord might use it as a Flesh Suit.

 

[Sonic4EverShadow]

I hope Syllia will defend Quel'Thalas enough to evacuate the people. It's impossible defeat the scourge but maybe she can save the High Elves like Jaina Proudmoore did with the Lordaerans.

P. S. You will join into the Horde? Please say yes!!! 😍

 

[Warmachine375]

P. S. You will join into the Horde? Please say yes!!! 😍

Click to shrink...

The Quel'Thalas elves only joined the Horde because of Garithos who decided to be a jerk out of misplaced blame at them for being the reason why his home burned during the Second War.

 

[Nicholai]

The Quel'Thalas elves only joined the Horde because of Garithos who decided to be a jerk out of misplaced blame at them for being the reason why his home burned during the Second War.

Click to shrink...

Another part of the lore, that is sadly hinted at repeatedly but rarely covered, was that the Blood Elves joined the Horde because the Forsaken were able to keep the Plaguelands from spreading throughout their home. (The Tauren Druids also helped.) If you've played the Blood Elf starter zone there's a strip of Blight that runs straight up to and through Silvermoon. That's what they needed help with.

 

[Warmachine375]

Another part of the lore, that is sadly hinted at repeatedly but rarely covered, was that the Blood Elves joined the Horde because the Forsaken were able to keep the Plaguelands from spreading throughout their home. (The Tauren Druids also helped.) If you've played the Blood Elf starter zone there's a strip of Blight that runs straight up to and through Silvermoon. That's what they needed help with.

Click to shrink...

I see but the Blood Elves at the time were in the Alliance before the Forsaken were a thing as the latter became somewhat free when the Icecrown started losing power due to Illidan using a world shattering spell to try wipe out Northrend which Malfurion saw the consequences to be catastrophic.

 

[Reese]

Another part of the lore, that is sadly hinted at repeatedly but rarely covered, was that the Blood Elves joined the Horde because the Forsaken were able to keep the Plaguelands from spreading throughout their home. (The Tauren Druids also helped.) If you've played the Blood Elf starter zone there's a strip of Blight that runs straight up to and through Silvermoon. That's what they needed help with.

Click to shrink...

IIRC, at least in Travels through Azeroth and Outland part of it was also that the Forsaken's leader was someone still prominent and respected among the Blood Elves. I don't know if that's canon or not, though.

 

[Midas_Man]

This is an interesting left hand turn, now we have a Syllia and a pre-Syllia copy of the same person. At least I'm assuming so. Dangerous.

Click to shrink...

Dangerous indeed.

Time travel ~

Click to shrink...

Spoiler: MidasMan

Oh this is the MCs human body that Syllia's mother buried all those years ago when she found her, isn't it?

Click to shrink...

Yep....

I hope Syllia will defend Quel'Thalas enough to evacuate the people. It's impossible defeat the scourge but maybe she can save the High Elves like Jaina Proudmoore did with the Lordaerans.

P. S. You will join into the Horde? Please say yes!!! 😍

Click to shrink...

Defend Quel'Thalas? Yes.

Join the Horde? No Comment. Though she does stay a high elf.

Another part of the lore, that is sadly hinted at repeatedly but rarely covered, was that the Blood Elves joined the Horde because the Forsaken were able to keep the Plaguelands from spreading throughout their home. (The Tauren Druids also helped.) If you've played the Blood Elf starter zone there's a strip of Blight that runs straight up to and through Silvermoon. That's what they needed help with.

Click to shrink...

Ah yes, the Dead Scar! Still gonna be an issue this time around.

IIRC, at least in Travels through Azeroth and Outland part of it was also that the Forsaken's leader was someone still prominent and respected among the Blood Elves. I don't know if that's canon or not, though.

Click to shrink...

At this point, with how Bliz has handled their lore, canon is in the eye of the beholder~

 

[Nicholai]

At this point, with how Bliz has handled their lore, canon is in the eye of the beholder~

Click to shrink...

Warcraft canon is a big ball of timey wimey stuff because the Bronze Dragonflight is locked in a time war with the Infinite Dragonflight and they keep using retcons against one another. (Or the writing staff has changed over far too many times and they haven't had an internal wiki and resident lore officer to keep the writers from breaking things, take your pick.)

 

[World Illusion]

im a little worried about undead-human-mc, and him meeting present-highelf-mc. like, that meeting, with the scourge going on, cannot end well. also, there's two too many of them now, someone has to die off, and my vote is for the one that's dead already P)

 

[Erandor]

21st century Earth lingo looking like a walking corpse

Click to shrink...

Where's the bison YES meme when I need it

I've been waiting for this since you revealed MC's human corpse is still around. Oh the future interactions will be glorious

 

[Midas_Man]

Lor'themar didn't believe the news when he first heard it.

He had known Dar'Khan Drathir for millennia, and while the man was always prideful of his work and capabilities, what magister wasn't to one degree or another, never in all his life did he think the man capable of such treachery.

Was treachery even a strong enough word to denounce his actions?

Heresy?

Insanity?

The last time he had a conversation with the man, beyond pleasantries at a party, was a mere decade ago!

Just a decade.

Too short a length of time for someone to change so drastically; without obvious scars to show for it.

The Farstrider did not know what was worse, that Drathir was all these things long before these recent events, or that the signs had always been there and Lor'thmemar didn't see it. Maybe he had seen it but excused it away as lingering trauma from their shared captivity in Amani territory?

It seemingly took the magister walking into the Convocation with the intent to kill the entire Convocation for everyone else to see it as well.

But after Liadrin sent word of their former friend's betrayal, he set out to see how disastrous the situation was. Something he was already preparing to do, but now with even greater urgency.

With all the information Dar'Khan could have given the human invading them, all the defenses and plans he could have fed his new dark master…

He flew his dragonhawk over the devastated and blighted lands, leaving his troops in Silvermoon to prepare for the inevitable assault to come; his own forces seemingly the only rangers to arrive in good order to defend the capital.

Rather than abject silence, he received a constant flow of news from refugees, soldiers, and others he encountered; normally after saving them from throngs of monsters and other damnable beings.

The tales were mostly the same: cities devastated, populations raised from the dead, armies smashed and scattered, with the only regions relatively unscathed along the eastern coastline, the dead seemingly having no care for anything beyond the path to Silvermoon itself.

He also heard that General Windrunner was preparing a new line of defense near a town named Fairbreeze. It seemed as good a place as any to head towards, if for no other reason than to be directed towards a greater objective than aimlessly wandering about.

But when he arrived, he found nothing but a dead settlement littered with corpses. There had been a battle, that much was obvious, and going by what he found it couldn't have occurred more then a few days prior.

While he found no sign of the General or her forces, he was not willing to write her off as dead yet. It was said that when the undead claimed a settlement, they picked it clean of the dead; bodies were a valuable material for a force led by necromancers.

Since the bodies still laid where they fell, it implied that the General won her battle but had to withdraw.

The question was, to where?

His only leads were the fresh tracks leading out of the city towards the Eversong. Bipedal, marching in good order, all the signs of either the rangers with the General or soldiers who escaped.

Either she went in that direction, or those he found would illuminate him as to where they believed she was.

So he flew, his heart ached at the sight of the once beautiful forests reduced to rotted woodlands, and quickly found the 'where'. A settlement, its walls manned and gates sealed, the kingdom's banners still fluttering along the battlements, and mounds of corpses piled before them in makeshift pits.

His arrival atop the walls, clearly alarmed the guards patrolling them.

"M-My Lord?" a ranger he landed near greeted him, stunned by his sudden arrival. He gathered himself quickly enough, saluting the Ranger-Lord. "Lieutenant Sintor, my Lord."

"At ease," Lor'themar nodded. "Do you know where the Ranger-General is?"

"The General?" he processed the sudden question, then nodded. "Yes. Of course my Lord. I believe she is still recovering from her inquiries."

"Injuries?" The only thing that kept him from overreacting was the prior word 'recovering'.

"Yes, my Lord. She lost a great deal of blood from her duel with that human leading these creatures. Her trollhunter retinue was cut down to the last, and she's only still with the living due to the actions of the magistrix."

"Who?" The magistrix? He'd seen no sign of the royal army in Fairbreeze. A straggler?

"Magistrix Dawnguard, who is also in command of the forces here in Fyrestone," the ranger explained, though Lor'themar didn't recognize the name. "With our position in Breezewind compromised, we followed the magistrix here. That was two days ago."

Theron processed the information, "Who's the ranking Farstrider here?"

"With the General incapacitated, Captain Flareray is in command."

"And where would I find him?"

The ranger pointed to the highest tower in the settlement. "With the magistrix up there. It's where the mage holds her war council, though I'm afraid I'm not privy to the details."

"No worry, I shall ask them myself," with a nod to the man, Lor'themar directed his mount towards the tower in question.

On his way, he noted the dizzying amount of makeshift barricades below him, little more than piles of furniture in some cases blocked off streets. Curious, but ultimately irrelevant.

He landed at the building's entrance with all the fanfare a Ranger-Lord's arrival comes with. Looks and pointing by the common people, mixed with surprise and deferance by soldiers and rangers both.

When he informed the handful of servants who scurried out to meet him of his intent to meet the magistrix, they were less than helpful. Constantly attempting to get him to conform to 'protocol'; to wait until he had been properly announced before being allowed entry into the magistrix's council.

Theron had neither the time nor patience for magisterial theatrics.

He marched through the building without care for the calls for restraint the servants heaped on him. The look of shock on their faces as he tracked mud through the cleaned halls, the sight of his gloves still coated in dried gore from the handful of times he abandoned his bow for his blade, their words and language becoming more insistent as he trekked up to the tower's peak.

Protocol? Procedure? Decorum?

"Do you really think I have the time for this farce," he grunted, growing tired of the constant baying. In a less stressful time, he would have at least 'entertained' their suggestions.

But now? With their homeland in flames?

He eventually reached a large door guarded by a soldier in full plate. The man ignored the servant's calls to bar Lor'themar until they 'at least clean his boots', knocking twice on the door before opening it for him.

The room was 'normal' as magisterial studies go. Only rather than servants silently standing along the walls, there were soldiers, officers, and rangers all huddled around a long central table littered with documents and maps, with a single figure at the far end; the magistrix he assumed.

She looked…younger than he thought she would; no older than five hundred he reasoned. Both her hair and attire were unkempt, with what looked like the onset of dark rings under her eyes.

Whatever conversation was underway before his arrival quickly quieted down as he was 'noticed'.

Staring, the magistrix blinked her eyes as if to make sure her sight was not being deceived.

"I'm sorry but are you Lor'themar Theron," the magistrix mused aloud, seemingly surprised to see him.
"Correct," he agreed, acknowledging the salute by the rangers in the room with a curt nod before turning his attention back to the mage. If she knew who he was, that saved him some time. "And apologies for being blunt, but where is the Ranger-General recovering?"

--
--

To say seeing Lor'Themar Theron wasn't on my Bingo sheet for the day would be an understatement.

I even had to check my eyes a few times to make sure it wasn't my exhaustion playing tricks on me. Getting a grand total of four hours of sleep over the course of several days tends to do that. Dismissing the meeting, I led the ranger-lord to the not-banshee Sylvanas.

I was just happy to finally see someone who was 'higher rank' than me that I could just give command to.

Sylvanas was sequestered into her own room, which I think was the previous lord's bedroom, and had her under twenty-four hour watch. The healers parted when Lor'themar approached her bedside, kneeling to check her over himself. Sure, her face was drained of all color, bandages zig zagged her torso, and only the faintest raising and falling of her chest to indicate she was even alive, but she was alive.


I still remember the panicked calls and faces of everyone in Fairbreeze when I appeared before all those rangers with their bloodied, near dead, leader. They did what they could, first aid and all that, but she needed an actual healer. Deprived of a leader, I suggested that the rangers come on over to Fyrestone than defend the ruins of Fairbreeze to the last.

Not only did it have the added benefit of getting Sylvanas as far away from Arthas as I could reasonably hope, but I was pretty sure a healer was in Fyrestone.

And so it was!

I had the role, honor, privilege(?), of personally getting Sylvanas to Fyrestone ahead of everyone. While rangers could travel fast, I was faster thanks to liberal use of Blink. So I grabbed her and teleported the two of us in a hopscotch manner across the 'no man's land' between the settlements.

And wasn't that an experience.

Not because I ran into any issues, it was actually smooth sailing without any interruption, but because of Sylvanas herself. Halfway through, she starts thrashing around like an eel to such an extent that I almost drop her to the forest floor. And even after she calmed down, she just started rambling names to herself, her sisters, Nathanos of all people, and some guy named Lirath where the one repeated the most.

When I arrived in Fyrestone, the healers claimed it was a miracle she was even holding on by the time I dropped her bloodied mess of a body off.

Once and a while, I did hear that she went into some sort of nightmare/hallucination thing, but beyond that, she was completely unresponsive.

But she was still alive.

I had done it.

Or I did something at any rate…

If only the sights of literal corpse mounds didn't take away from the sense of victory.

"You have my thanks, magistrix," the ranger finally spoke up, clearly satisfied with the state of Sylvanas, "Not only for saving one of Silvermoon's finest, but a friend as well."

"Just doing my little part," feeling a tad awkward from the sudden praise.

"As do we all," he agreed, though probably not for the same reasons.

I quickly looked around, the healers were gone, the guards were outside, leaving just me and Lor'themar in the room. It was now or never I guess.

"So, there's something I need to tell you before we go any further," I waited for the door to close before starting.

"No need, I am aware of how precarious the situation is," he completely misunderstood what I wanted to say. "The situation is deteriorating equally fast everywhere else."

"Yes...I mean, there's that, yes, why was it getting harder to speak the longer I drew this out? "But I was more thinking about the fact that…," I mumbled the words out. I had practiced them so much, so why was it so hard to say them!

"I'm sorry, could you repeat that?"

"I said I'm…um…" she broke eye contact, wringing her hands. "I'm…not actually a… magistrix."

"...pardon?"

"I'm not a magistrix," I repeated, trying to keep some form of eye contact with the ranger, but failing. "I'm just…pretending to be one."

"...pretending?" I couldn't quite make out what his tone was suggesting. The best I could work out was something akin to confusion. I swear I could hear a penny drop from how quiet he went.

"Yeah, well, you know, maybe not pretend in the 'I told them I was one' sort of way," I clarified, wondering now that I was finally saying it outright, just how hard should I rip this band-aid off. "But more like 'no one asked me if I wasn't' sort of way. Like a white lie, or a lie by omission. You know?"

"...I'm sorry, what are you trying to say, Lady Dawnguard?"

"Okay, I did, sort of, say I was a magistrix to get people to listen to me initially that Darth Khan was going to betray the kingdom to the undead."

"You mean Dar'Khan?"

"Yeah him," I nodded. "I just said I was one since no one listened to me that Dar'Khan was a traitor earlier. So I borrowed some clothes from a friend to 'look the part', you know, dress for success and all that. And well things just sort of… escalated from there."

Oh dear I was rambling.

"Escalated?"

"Well, I mean, what else do you call all of this," I gesture around us. "Taking command of forces, leading them into battle, organizing defenses, all of it? I mean, seriously, I am just a student. I should not, in any way, be here right now."

He was quiet for a moment, no doubt processing the insanity of what I just said. I was pretty sure I wasn't about to get imprisoned for my stuff, I did save a not insignificant amount of people, but I was also pretty sure that this was probably going to go on my 'permanent record' or whatever magisters use to record questionable things.

"So you… didn't save the general?"

"Oh, no, I actually did do that. Lost a bunch of my teeth taking a fist to the face, but nothing a little healing couldn't fix," I ran a thumb over the area of my jaw that got messed up real bad from that. After I got Sylvanas to the healers, they had a look at me. Let's just say growing teeth back in a matter of minutes is not the most comfortable feeling.

"Then I am not sure I understand," he frowned.

"Okay, let me say it like this," how do I explain this? "I have no idea about the things all these people are asking me about."

"Things?"

"You know, about logistics, and supplies, and wounded, and manpower, Things. They go on and on, and I'm just sitting there nodding while most of the stuff went over my head," I start pacing a little back and forth, just bleeding off the nervous energy as best I can. "I mean, look, I can barely play chess, and they're expecting me to organize all this shit, with the lives of everyone on the line?"

"So you're saying you did…nothing?"

"Just about," I shrug. "The best move I made was just letting others do what they think is best… Oh sorry, 'delegating'. I delegated the overall defense of the Fyrestone to people who actually know what they're doing. I mean, that makes sense right?"

"That is what a leader tends to do," he countered, clearly not understanding what I was trying to get at.

"No, I mean, all I did was tell people to do their jobs," why was this so hard for him to grasp? Or maybe it was just the way I was saying it?

"So," Lor'themar tried to process what I told him. "If that's the case, who was the one who ordered the civilians to build all those barricades I saw in the streets?"

Oh I knew where this was going…

"Okay, yes I actually ordered that myself," I cut him off, predicting where this question was going. "But before you say it, I do know they are useless. If the walls are breached, the undead aren't going to stop because they tripped over a table or found a bunch of crates in the middle of the street. At best, they'll buy a second or two."

"Yet you ordered them to labor anyway?"

"Well of course I did," I defend myself. "You've seen the streets, they're packed with starving, scared, aimless people. Most of them lost everything when their village or town was sacked by the undead. Some only have the clothes on their backs and what little they could carry to their names. And in the constant flood of bad news, real or fake, it's a breeding ground for depression and hopelessness! "

"And you solved that with barricades?"

"What I did, or tried to do, was give them the illusion of having some control over their lives," I explained. "Every barricade they set up gives them the belief that their labor has made this town just that much more secure. Every scrap of metal they gather is another sword between them and the hordes of undead, every bandage they prepare could be the difference between life and death for a soldier protecting them. Or at least that's what they think. Better than everyone just sitting on their hands doing nothing, or worse, panicking."

"Then I must ask again, Lady Dawnguard, what are we even talking about?" Lor'themar questioned. "You did what you could with what you had."

Oh for the love of!

How was this so fucking hard for him to grasp that I had no fucking clue what I was-

The ringing of bells interrupted our conversation; an alarm that the undead were making a push against the walls.

I look out the nearby window towards the direction of the alarm. Sure enough, a sizable horde of monsters were rushing through the dead treeline. Rangers, mages, and other soldiers readied themselves to repel the attack.

The defenses there were more than sufficient to deal with an attack this size, intellectually I knew that. Maybe if I was still in that stuffy meeting, talking in circles for a few hours about how fucked we are right now, I could put it out of my mind.

But that was the wall Noly ought to be patrolling right now…

"Mind giving me a hand with that," I asked, "we can finish this conversation afterwards."

"Of course," he agreed, "not that I really see a point in going on more about whatever high standards you think you failed-"

Before he finished his comment, there was a mighty roar that shook everything in the building and a lance of fire bathed every undead creature before Fyrestone in a brilliant shower of flames. I doubt any of the creatures even had time to scream in pain, they simply vanished into clouds of ash.

A large, reptilian creature, weaved from the ashy clouds above and dove in for another run, bathing the ground in flames as brilliant as its scales.

A dragon.

A red dragon.

Well that is… different.

Unexpected even.

And going by the surprised look on the ranger, he felt the same way.

"So, I guess he's not with you?" I watch the dragon land atop an abomination, its sheer weight cursing the monster. A mighty claw smacked a host of skeletons apart, it let loose more streams of fire towards the ghouls that swarmed it.

"No," he watched the draconid. While on alert, the ranger was not 'on edge' at the sight. "Though it doesn't surprise me a member of the Ruby Flight was drawn to the devastation brought upon the land."

"Or maybe telling them the Scourge are the Legion's agents got them off their scalie asses," I mumble, knowing full well how little they helped the world in 'canon'.

"What was that?"

"I said it's good to see them helping against the Scourge," I smoothly replied. "I just wonder why he's here though. Specifically, Fyrestone rather than Silvermoon."

"I guess there's only one way to find out," Lor'themar moved to the nearest window and opened it.

"Wait, isn't it a little high up to jump-" he was already out before I finished my sentence. Gracefully parkouring his way down, jumping from rooftop to rooftop to reach the gate where the dragon landed.

That answers that then.

Scooting myself to the edge of the windowsill, my legs handing over the edge, I blinked across the roofs in a rough approximation of the ranger's movements.

He arrived before me, staring at the mighty dragon as it finished off the last of the undead in sight with a victorious roar.

I saw Noly by the front of the slowly gathering crowd, the redhead as flabbergasted at the sight as everyone around her.

"Should we do something?" I heard her comment to no one in particular, looking side to side to see the others' reactions to the dragon.

Blinking down to ground level, approach the wyrm and clear my throat to get the dragon's attention. All the while hoping my draconic wasn't too bad.

"Um…thank you for the assistance," I gave him a weak wave. Even knowing that red dragons were friendly and all, or at least not dickish, it was still a little nerve wracking seeing a massive fire breathing lizard looking down at me with teeth as long as my arm. Well technically I have met a pair of red dragons before, but one was in his elf guise and the other was a whelp, very different from a dragon in their 'natural' form.

The large creature turned and stared at me, blinking, then gave what I assume is the reptilian equivalent of a sigh.

"Oh for the love of…" The dragon replied in Thalassian. It was female judging by the feminine pitch of her deep voice. She angled her neck to look me in the eyes, or as much as a dragon could do to someone on ground level."What are you doing here, dear?"

"Um, fighting for my life?" Was this a trick question? "I'm Syllia, by the way."

"Yes, yes, I know who you are, Syllia," the dragon seemed to roll her eyes in annoyance. "Honestly, I leave you alone for a short while and you end up waist deep in this muck."

"Uh, how do you know me?" I immediately mentally kicked myself, since it was obvious Krasus told this dragon about me. Thought that still didn't explain the familiarity she was clearly implying.

"By all that is… you really don't know?"

"Don't know what?"

The dragon, again, rolled her eyes and groaned. Within seconds her bulky frame was engulfed by a blinding light, when it vanished, the great wyrm was gone and a average sized red haired elf woman was in her-

…

Oh…

…oh.

"There we go," Sitristra crossed her arms, amused by my reaction. "Everything out in the open, no more misunderstandings."

"But I thought…" wait, Siristra wasn't a dragonsworn, but an actual dragon!?

"Later," she promised, turning her attention to Lor'themar who had watched this all unfold. "I suppose you know why I'm here, Ranger-Lord?"

"I don't," the ranger looked at the devastation Siristra wrought, "but I welcome your help regardless. Are you here on behalf of your queen? Does the Life-Binder plan to take to the field in defense of Silvermoon?"

"I'm afraid not, sadly," the dragoness shook her head. "My queen is preoccupied with matters in Northrend, and will be for the immediate future. And while I did come at the head of a small group, we are too few to truly tip the scales of battle in your favor.

"But couldn't you all just fly in and burn Arthas?" I cut in, it seemed simple enough to me.

"If he wasn't surrounded by untold thousands of undead at any given time, then yes," she bit her lip in frustration. "And if that wasn't bad enough, if any one of us falls it would only be to the… detriment of the defenders."

'Because we would be raised as undead dragons' went unsaid.

"But while we're not capable of open battle against the horde, we can, and will, protect the refugees fleeing the undead Scourge," she explained. "With the undead mostly pressing against Silvermoon, we can easily defeat the small bands that have broken off in pursuit of survivors; such as I just did."

"But that's not why you're here," Lor'themar reiterated his previous question.

"No, it's not," she admitted, glancing at me then back to the ranger. "I came for Sylvanas Windrunner. I have been asked to see her safely to Quel'Danas, by the instruction of your King, Anasterian. He wishes to question her as to the state of your people's defenses."

"That might be difficult," I rub the back of my neck.

"Why would that be-" then she realized it. "What happened?"

"Athas happened," I grumble. "He nearly killed her, when I brought her here she was a mess. She's recovered somewhat, but hasn't woken up yet."

"I'm sorry, but you brought her here?" Siristra(?) questioned, with an expression I knew all too well. "Please, pray tell, why were you, my dearest, sweet apprentice, in the middle of a warzone?"

"Well…I…"

"What was that? I couldn't quite hear you?"

"Well…"

"Excuse me," Lor'themar cut in, "while it might be out of place for me to comment on this, I believe the magistrix has done a perfectly reasonable job given our current circumstances."

"The magistrix?" Siristra looked at me, processed what the ranger said, and gained a mischievous glint in her eyes with the tiniest hint of a smile on her face.

Oh no…

"I am not denying she most likely overstepped her rank, but the fact remains that General Windrunner is only alive right now thanks to the intervention of Lady Dawnguard," Lor'themar 'defended' me, clearly not understanding at all what I was trying to tell him earlier!

"Well, in that case," the dragoness hummed to herself, in the same way I have seen her do a hundred times before when she was pretending to think something over. "I suppose her actions can be overlooked, this time."


"But I…I," Do not encourage him! I was trying to set him straight!

"Still, I ought to take Lady Dawnguard along to Quel'Danas as well," Siristra(?) decided, beckoning me forward.

"Wait, just like that?"

"Just like that," she agreed. "The situation here is probably stable enough for you to leave, especially when at the invitation of a king. So come along, no doubt he'll probably want to hear from you as well." She turned back to the assembled soldiers and rangers, "and if one of you could fetch the Ranger General as well, that would be appreciated. I'd rather not have to reach in and grab her out of whatever room you have her in."

Lor'themar nodded, and ordered one of the nearby rangers to do just that. "I'll take her by dragonhawk. It'll be faster than you flying her, no offense, of course."

"Oh, I am offended," Siristra(?) gave a mock 'gasping' expression. "But you are also right."

"With any luck, the Sunwell can accelerate her healing and she can return to the fight," with a nod, the ranger let out a high pitched whistle, and a large dragonhawk responded flying over to him.

So, I guess this is-

"Wait!" A new voice called out. Noly squeezed and maneuvered around the crowd and raced over to me. "I'm going too!"

"Noly," I started before the redhead, the new redhead, cut me off.

"Oh no, none of this 'Noly stay here' crap," She argued. "Last you raced off, you fought that evil human guy leading the undead. Sure you saved the general, but what happens the next time you do something stupid and no one's there to help you?" .

"Noly, that makes no sense-"

"I think it makes perfect sense," Godamn it Sitristra(?). "One should never turn down offers of help if they don't have to. I thought I taught you as much, Lady Dawnguard. More than that, she could offer an insight to the king of Fairbreeze's state before you arrived to rescue them. You were in Fairbreeze before my apprentice arrived, yes?"

…she was never going to let this go, was she?

Before I could even reply, Noly was already talking again.

"Yep," the girl nodded feverishly, Lor'themar seemingly agreeing with this as well given his expression and lack of disapproval. "And don't worry miss… lady… your dragoness," the girl fumbled through what to call the woman. "I'm a ranger too, so I'll be able to pull my weight no problem."

"...trainee," I whisper to myself.

"That's no problem. And please, call me Siristrasza," the dragoness grinned, showing off a fang or two that she let slip in her guise.

Noly was about to reply, but then seemingly realized something. "Wait,I have to get Birdy!" The redhead looked back and forth between us and the town. "I'll be right back."

The dragoness tilted her head at the sight of Noly racing back to town, "who is 'Birdy'?"

"Her dragonhawk chick," I answered.

"Ah."

A silence descended upon us as we waited for both Noly and Sylvanas to appear, all under the curious eyes of all those around us.

"So…" I tried to break the 'ice', looking Siristra(za)'s way, speaking in her native language as a way to avoid 'eavesdropping'. "You're a… dragon?"

"I always have been, Syllia," as if to emphasize the point, her eyes flashed between their 'normal' cerulean hue to a draconic slit pupil.

"..."

"..."

"... so wow, you're really good at hiding in plain sight, you know that."

"Syllia, my guise's surname is 'Everflight'. Ever-Flight. As in Dragonflight."

"I've heard weirder names…" And wasn't that the truth.

"Red is my dominant color," she ran a hand through her hair. Was it even hair if it was her guise form? "Both in hair, makeup, and attire."

"...lots of people here wear red and gold," I cross my arms. "I've told you the times I've been blinded by those sorts of outfits."

"My building is covered in the iconography of my flight."

"... people can be obsessed about things," I shrug, not meeting the woman's eyes. "You could have just been obsessed with dragons. Or a dragonsworn."

"I taught you unaccented draconic…"

"How am I supposed to know that your draconic doesn't have an accent?"

"Why do I get the feeling you're just saying that so I drop it?"

"...why are you being so difficult about this?"

"...because I feel really, really," REALLY, "stupid right now for not seeing it in hindsight." I always considered myself above average intelligence, but right now I was considering knocking myself down a few points from this whole debacle.

"You are a bright girl, Syllia," the red wyrm/woman commented, putting a hand on my shoulder. "Bright, but dense, stubborn as a mule, lackadaisical to an almost detrimental extent, childish at times…"

"Why don't tell me how you really feel…" was this some sort of reverse psychology thing?

"There's nothing wrong with being a child," she insisted. "Or young. You'll have decades to smooth out your edges, and centuries to temper your eccentricities. If you were a thousand, acting like you do right now, I would think you are an overgrown woman child. But you're not a thousand, or even a century. You're barely in your twenties."

'More like forties…' I mumble to myself, though I was actually having a hard time remembering what my exact age was when I died the 'first time'. It's so stupid. How can I remember things as important as my home address from back then and other stuff, not to mention all this Warcraft lore, but not my age?

"Or think about how much you can accomplish in life if you're already a Magistrix at such a young age," the woman teased me.

While I mused about this, grumbling at her teasing, Noly returned.

"Okay, ready!" The ranger had her dragonhawk resting snuggly under her cloak like a baby. The chick's head arcing around back and forth the girl's chin, innocently taking in the sights and sounds.

Not long after, Sylvanas was carried over to us by a pair of rangers to Lor'themar's care.

Siristra(sza) transformed back into her dragon form, letting me and Noly climb atop her back.Thankfully her scales and 'spikes' on her back were arranged in such a way that the two of us had something to hold onto.

The Ranger-Lord flew away the moment he secured Sylvanas. But before we took to the sky, an idea flashed in my head.

"Wait, Siristra, can we just have a quick stop before we head over there?"

"Syllia, this is hardly a leisurely flight," the dragoness countered.

"I know, but it'll be quick. There's someone I just have to let know I'm okay."

"Syllia…"

"It's on the way to Quel'Danas. I'll be in and out, two minutes. Three tops," I ask pleadingly."Please."

The dragon mulled it over, then sighed, "where exactly is this person?"

--
--

"Careful, that stuff's worth more than you!" Amiria swore to herself as another crate fell over, breaking everything valuable within. "What did I just say?"

"S-sorry ma'am."

"Just hurry up," Amiria hissed, passing the rest of her people packing up their belongings and valuables. "I refuse to stay here a moment longer than necessary!"

She poked her head out the front door and frowned.

It's the end of the world out there!

The sky was blacked out by soot and ash that snowed back down, the air smelled like burning and rotting corpses, screams and sounds of battle echoed across the emptied streets, and there were monsters starting to appear inside the city!

They had been smashing themselves bloody against the walls for days now, but it seemed like they had finally figured out a way in. Walking corpses, spider things, and other unholy abominations. Not in any large numbers, yet, but they had been steadily increasing in numbers since the early morning.
Even before that they were hurling hunks of rotting meat over the walls as some sort of artillery. One chunk splattered to the ground not far from her home. The smell alone made her almost throw up her small breakfast.

Spells were raining down from on high, flying monsters crashed into the ground dead fettered with arrows, and no incursion seemingly lasted that long until the creatures were cut down by soldiers. Spell and steel against blood and bone.

While she'd left her home a while ago, making sure to only take her most valuable things she kept in a small chest under her bed when the fighting initially started, even her current location at the brothel was no longer safe. A distance from the walls it might be, but she already had to put down a spider monster that tried to eat one of the working girls.

While the hole it came out of was filled, and being watched, the girl in question had been catatonic ever since; just staring at the bite marks on her arm.

The undead were being put down, but not nearly fast enough. From the few looks she got of the battle from her spyglass, it looked like they were about to fall. All that remained of Silvermoon's vaulted defenses was a thin red line of plate holding off an endless sea of corpses and corpsers.

It was hardly the 'last' line of defense, most of the army had been drawn back from the walls deeper into the city. More barricades along main streets, more lines of defense to block off undead or funnel them into killing fields, and hastily established bastions in key buildings for glorious last stands.

She has no doubt it will be quite a sight for all those people on ships or on Quel'Danas, a front row seat to the death of Silvermoon.

For her part Amiria was packing up and leaving.

Screw the kingdom, she was going to live!

As was her daughter.

Syllia…

She might not have heard from Syllia in over a week, but she just knew the girl was alive. She was out there, maybe alone, maybe not, in the midst of all this, but still alive.

Honestly, Amiria could not tell if it was her motherly instinct from a connection that made her know this, or if this was just a coping mechanism by her mind to fool itself into ignoring the very real reality of the situation.

What made her girl so special to survive while so many others died? Beyond being her daughter…

Survivors flooded in for days, even after the gates were sealed, but that trickle ended days ago…

She had to be.

She had to be…

If not, then what was the point of-

The building shook as something hit the roof; something large.

Was it another corpse slamming into the rooftops? Or was it something worse?

"Damn it!" Amiria slammed the table, frustrated by how fast everything was moving. She checked her pistol to make sure it was loaded."Right, we're moving now. Forget everything not packed up! One of you come with me to make sure whatever's out there is actually dead-"

There was a flash of light, in the midst of the room and a voice.

"Fuck!"

Syllia?

"Who puts a crate in the middle of a room!" Low and behold, appearing from thin air, nursing her shin. She was a mess, haggard, tired, bruised, but alive.

Amiria holstered her pistol as she watched her daughter shove the furniture aside as before quickly noticing the audience her arrival had attracted. "Oh… Hi mom."

"Syllia?" she asked, as if not believing her own eyes. "Are you.."

"Yeah, Mom I'm," she rubbed the back of her neck, "I'm a… I'm okay."

She was about to pull her girl in for a hug, the building shook again, heavy, lumbering sounds reverberating across the structure. It brought Amiria back to reality, drew her pistol and marched her way outside to see what it was.

"Wait, wait, wait!" Syllia grabbed her arm. "It's fine. They're with me," Syllia abruptly stated, holding her hands out in a calming motion.

"'They're'?" Amiria questioned, her gun still drawn, painfully aware of the sounds on the roof. Lumbering and massive

"Look I know what it sounds like, but everything is fine. Nothing to worry about." the girl sheepishly looked to the side, mumbling to herself, "...this probably wasn't the best place to land."

"Land? But you just teleport here."

"Mom, I can only teleport really short distances," the girl chuckled. "So to get back I had to hitch a-"

CRASH

"Ride here…"

Right out the window, she saw it.

It was a dragon.

A bright, red, dragon with rows of razor teeth and claws larger than a grown man. Its reptilian eyes bore down at her, as if judging. Its fall shattered the establishments windows, letting in plumes of dust and soot from outside.

Amiria was prepared to pull Syllia behind her but then she saw a lone figure clinging to the dragon's back, waving.

"Hi mom!'' Was that…Noly on the dragon's back? "Oh, and hi Aunt Amiria! Are you guys okay?"

"Noly, what in the name of all that is holy are you doing on that!" The girl's mother pushed aside the others who stood dumbstruck by the sight, the woman's concern for her child overriding her fear of the creature. "Get down from it before you get hurt!"

"It's fine mom! Siristrasza wouldn't let that happen!" the girl patted the dragon's neck.

"That is correct," the dragon spoke, or she assumed it did at least. The beast's voice was deep but with an audible feminine lilt. "Rest assured, while time is short, I would not take unnecessary risks while flying."

"That's…I…" the woman was at a loss for words. "How…"

"I would also recommend for your own safety, that you all head deeper into the city. The undead are making a concerted push against the walls and I am not sure how long the defenses will hold." the dragon advised, looking towards the walls. The dragon's gaze lingered on Amiria longer than the rest, as if judging her, then turning to Syllia. " And Syllia, keep your conversation short, we must leave soon as well. Remember, this is a time sensitive matter."

"Time sensitive?" She looked towards her daughter for an explanation.

"Yeah Silly, we shouldn't keep the king waiting!" Noly interrupted, much to Syllia's grumbling.

"The King?"Syllia sheepishly met her gaze. "Why are you meeting the king?"

"Noly," the dragon turned its head back to address its passenger, "I don't believe that information was meant to be known."

"Well, I mean, we're going to Quel'Danas. It's kind of obvious. Who else would we be going to see?"

"No one knew where we were going."

"Oh...shit," the redhead looked as if she wished to slink into her attire.

"...you're not going," Amiria grabbed onto her daughter.

"Mom…"

"Don't 'mom' me. You rush off into the jaws of death and now you're about to rush off again?!" And leave me?

"I have to do this, mom."

"You don't have to do anything."

"Then I want to do this," Syllia stated.

Amiria wanted to keep arguing, to pull Syllia with her and leave all this nonsense of dragons and kings and undead behind them. But she already tried that before, and the girl slipped from her arms in a flash of light. She doubted it would be any different this time if she pressed the matter.

"I…," emotion threatened to overwhelm her. "How will you even find me after this is all…over?"

"Mom, you'll probably have to find me," the girl then grinned. "But don't worry, while I am very subtle, I can also be very unsubtle when I want to be."

Amiria registered her daughter's words, then started laughing.

Syllia...subtle?

"Hey it's true!" she defended herself. "Once everything is all said and done, I'll make the biggest scene imaginable. So big, so grand, you'll know it's me, and that I'm okay."

She kept laughing, pulling her daughter in for a tight hug. If she was not laughing, she would be crying seeing her daughter off again with no guarantee of her return. No matter how much her mind told her otherwise, no matter how many parents probably heard the exact same thing from their children only to never see them again, she actually believed her.

Heh….

Motherly instinct…or coping mechanism?

"I'll be fine, trust me," her daughter reiterated, returning the hug. When her daughter finally pulled away, Amiria let her. "Please."

"Okay…" she finally relented. "Just... no heroics please. And come back alive."

"...I can promise coming back alive, no comment on the heroics though," the girl flashed her a smile, then blinked away from her arms.

She gave Amiria one last wave before taking flight on the dragon's back.

As her daughter disappeared in the clouds of ash, Amiria centered herself. Bottling up all those emotions that flooded out of her, joy, relief, pain, worry, all of it into the back of her mind. She needed to stay focused.

She looked back to her people, most still dazed by what they just saw. "What are you standing around for! I said we're leaving!"

--
--

The Magister's Terrace was eerily calm.

You could see the devastation from the shoreline, hear the chaotic sounds carried over the waves, yet there was still a tranquility in the air that I just couldn't wrap my head around.The feeling that all the chaos was 'over there', no need to concern yourself.

The only thing I could think of that could cause this was the Sunwell. While anyone could feel the Well's influence from anywhere in the Kingdom, Quel'Danas was drenched in its energies. Even with ashy clouds darkening the sky, I could still feel as if sunlight was on my skin.

I'd thought my first interaction with Magisterial decorum would have prepared me for how blisteringly fast someone can be made 'decent' to see their social superiors. My robes were changed out for what felt like the third time in a week, proper shoes, I was even offered gloves that I declined, and then ushered into an honest to god waiting room.

When the door opened, I spotted Lor'themar walking out; meaning Sylvanas got here alright. He gave me a quick nod before rushing off to do…something. Probably oversee the defenses if I had to guess.

A courtier bid me and Siristra(sza) forward, while eyeing Noly to stay put. We exchanged quick looks before the doors shut behind me.

The dragoness and I were led down a long corridor, constantly flaked by royal guards, until we reached a massive set of doors.

They opened to reveal the personal study of the King of the High Home, Anasterian Sunstrider, surrounded by a small cabal of guards and courtiers.

The first thought that popped into my mind was just how old Anestairan was. Like really, really old. Graying hair, wrinkles all over. In spite of that, there was a burning fire that made him seem a century younger.

"Lady Siristraza, you've returned. I am pleased your task to find the General was a--" the King stopped short when his eyes laid on me. I couldn't tell if it was in confusion or disbelief.

To be fair, a very reasonable reaction to having some kid walk in who's been claiming to be a magistrix; even if he may not know that bit yet. Maybe he was the first person to immediately see through my 'disguise'?

"Success? Of course," Siristra(sza) either didn't notice, or care, about the king's abrupt cut off. "Lady Windrunner is in the hands of your healers I assume?"

"...yes," he nodded, tearing his gaze from me to give the dragoness his attention. "You have my thanks. With any luck my personal apothecaries, and the Sunwell rejuvenating properties, will see to it that she's back on her feet in a matter of days."

"We're not gonna have a few days," I mumble, craning my neck to see the burning Eversong across the water. "Maybe a few hours…"

"Pardon me, Lady Sitristrasza, but why is… she here," he eyed me with a strange expression.

"Well I assumed you'd want to meet the one responsible for saving Lady Windrunner," the dragoness smiled.

"...she saved her," he questioned. "This is the Lady Dawnguard Lord Theron spoke of?"

"Indeed," she let a hint of pride fill her words. "My apprentice is also the only reason most of your magisters are even still alive right now."

"I'd heard Lord Coldwater was responsible for bringing the traitor into custody," I felt like hiding from the sharp eyes now squarely on me.

"And guess who alerted the Lord of the traitor in the first place?"

"...thank you for bringing this to my attention, Lady Siristrasza," his words were careful and deliberate. "Now if you don't mind, I would like to converse with the… girl in private."

"No problem at all," the dragoness smiled, "I'll remain on the Isle for a time if you require anything else." Giving me a quick pat on the shoulder, she made her way out.

Anasterian looked to his guards and couriters, "...leave us."

They complied, quickly seeing themselves out. The doors shut, leaving me alone with the king of all Quel'Thalas.

And it was…awkward.

He ran his fingers along the desk in a rhythmic pattern, his expression bereft of any tells to what he was actually thinking. Best I could tell was that he was seething about something, or taking a measure of me.

And the silence between us dragged on.

One minute.

Two.

Three.

Yeah this is pretty awkward. I can only imagine what is going through his head right now. Probably wondering 'why the hell is there a kid in front of me'.

After four minutes, I decided to take the plunge.

"So," how does one break the ice with a king? "I think I should explain a few things before we jump to conclusions. I promise everything will make sense, but I need to preface a few things first."

He continued to stare at me, then sighed.

"This goes well beyond your usual theatrics," the king commented, as if trying to calm himself. "But I shouldn't be surprised. Why should I expect anything different from you?"

…

…what?

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AN: Oh dear, awkward conversations inbound~



And for any curious about what comes next: This was the last chapter of the defense arc. The following arc will be the "Sunwell" Arc. Only two chapters long, but brings the Scourge invasion of Quel'Thalas to a close (FINALLY). With an ending I hope everyone will enjoy (in a "what the hell just happened" sort of way).

The chapter following "Sunwell II" will be a singular one (no need to stretch it out over any length of time) which wraps up the loose ends of what happens at the end of Sunwell arc proper. Just to clear up any misunderstanding: the story is not going to end. There's plenty more to the story, the Sunwell arc is just the last Arc I have completely thought out and prepared (along with the chapter that comes after).

My hope is that I can get all of this done by the end of January.