Oh snap, thanks for directing me to it, I have no corrected it!
I hope the chapter was otherwise enjoyable, I figured this one might be contentious given the content.
New Dominion (Warcraft)
- Thread starter Zam
- Start date
- What if? Fantasy Action
I hope the chapter was otherwise enjoyable, I figured this one might be contentious given the content.
The Winter War: Part 11 - Prison Break
The Winter War: Part 10 - Prison Break
Their motley crew was fifteen strong and as far as Singer could see, would be fine enough folks to kill and die besides.
From the Syndicate's elite casters block, she saw Pai_Stormbringer, as well as Beve's pet pupils, Lisa and Rose aiding the little Wolvar in preparing its ritual. Among those standing guard were elite warriors and raiders, like Gravis_Slipknot and his Henchman_Valik, along with Benedict and a half a dozen bowman.
And finally, there was Kris_Legace, busily setting up her munitions.
Gravis lazily slashed his shimmering blade in the dim sewers, glaring back over his shoulder and muttering, "This green and black stuff you're rigging up. This is that Saronite right?"
"It is, it is," The Wolvar said absently, using a dagger to cut symbols into the stone.
Singer had already known, had felt her heart stirring in its presence, the shadows around her somehow felt more alive but no less familiar.
Valik scoffed, "Didn't think anyone but trolls got their hands on that stuff."
The Wolvar's ears twitched and a low whine escaped its throat, "Rageclaw live generations in Zul'Drak. Of the empire since Frost King Malakk. We are Drakkari; so we have all that the trolls do."
"Done!" Lisa and Rose chimed.
The Wolvar nodded, "Done as well, now as told, take your places and be ready to help Kris make our door, I will remove the magic that blocks our way."
"Can you even use this stuff?" Valik groused nervously.
Pai looked to the Wolvar, "I can assist you; this is more than calling bolts of lightning to awe lay-folk."
The Wolvar giggled like a Gnoll, "I told you, Elder Shaman Moky can do it. Would not have sent me if I could not." They cracked their paws and bared their claws, "I have studied the ways of Word Priests, I know their powers. Be ready."
With an ornate series of runes carved into the ceiling, walls, and floor of the sewer and Saronite nodes jammed into the heart of each, Moky took their place at the heart of the runic ritual.
Paws flashing through movements swiftly, a contorted idol flashing, their words grew strange and alien, sharped tongued troll tones blended with growls and… Something else as the sigils began to shine.
The tunnels around them began to glitter, the arcane light wriggling and shivering as it was drawn forth from the stone as the shadowy light energy began to build and runes burned themselves into the air.
'That darkness… Is at our call…'
Modera glared at Jandice Barov, suspended in the air, held aloft by arcane ringlets that stretched and tugged her body tight, her ruined right leg as stretched and twisted as its kin.
"You have not told us everything yet, Jandice," She intoned, as Kassan lazily twirled his enchanted mace, awaiting the order to strike.
A ragged gasped escaped Jandice's parched throat and with a flick of her staff, Modera lowered her down, scowling as they came face to face. Kassan approached and roughly yanked back her hair, exposing Jandice's throat further for Modera to push her staff against.
"Speak, traitor, or perhaps we need to make our interrogation methods more per…mane..ent?"
Modera and Kassan's gaze were drawn to the circular chamber walls as shimmering magical energies began to pulse weakly, sparkles drifting through the air like shaken loose dust.
"Something… Something is drawing the magic away from the Holds fortifications!?" Modera gasped.
"What about the cells!?" Kassan said, "Those are reliant on magic, without it they are animal pens at best!"
Modera struck Jandice's face, chest heaving, she dragged her forward and growled, "You were hiding other agents from our sight and that damned anti magic mineral, were you not!?"
Jandice's pale features split into a weak grin as she whispered, "Hurting me... Didn't give much reason... To do you a favor, Modera."
Fire near burst from her hand only to die with the pink tinged lights as a surging pulse of… Of something she could not name burst across the Hold, through every stone, steel bar and body.
For one terrible instant.
The magic was silent.
Jandice's restraints failed and she fell to the floor with a cry.
Modera slammed her staff against stone, arcane energies bursting forth, lightning candles and drawing shining crystals back to their pedestals.
But even as light and magic began to return to the chamber, she could hear chaos in the distance.
A Jailer telepoerted into the hall in a burst of light, his arm shattered and blood pouring down his face, "Kassan… They're free!" Before doubling over and crashing to the floor as blood spewed from their lips.
'There are enough nightmares in this hold to tear half of Dalaran to shreds!'
Kassan was already running to the door as it burst open, footmen and mages shouting was drowned out by a warped, draconic roar.
"You made me! YOU MADE ME!"
Fire washed over the crowd and before it even cleared a mangled nightmare of skin and scales, claws and fangs bursting from too small hands and mouth ripped through the footman. It slammed a mage against a wall and ripped out her throat in one bite.
"No!" Kassan's mace blurred and crashed against the monster's side, making them wail like a child.
From over his shoulder Modera let loose a bolt of arcane energy that clipped a malformed wing before it scuttled back into the halls, still screeching for its maker.
More howls and shouted spells echoed from all around her, bouncing off the walls and tearing through stone as the Hold began to rumble with the sounds of battle.
"Kassan, take the North Wing, I shall take the West Wing!" The man was already on the move.
Glancing down a Jandice she spat, "You do not get to die yet," before surrounding her in arcane magics and hurling Jandice into a penned cell before racing out the door.
It was then that she felt an explosion rock the Violet Hold to its foundations.
Dust and rubble flooded the air, but Singer cared not as she raced through the gaping wound they had carved in the Violet Hold's floor. A faint hum on her lips and feeling more alive than she ever had.
"The interrogation chambers are this way!" Pai shouted, a bolt of lightning escaping her finger tips and frying an armored guard in his suit.
Slim daggers slipping from her dress's sleeves, Singer whirled around like a dancer as she let them fly towards several more approaching footman. Each blade gliding between their helmet's eye slits and right into their skulls.
She dipped into shadows and burst free, weaving around mages spells to appear at their backs. Just in time to watch her allies dispel the duos shields, that she could draw her long and short daggers and run them through the guards backs in one fell motion.
Nary a moment passed before they were ducking down another hall, the Wolvar, Moky letting loose a bolt of lightning from a copper idol in their paws that ripped through the enchanted boundary, letting them into the next layer.
The new hall was wider, and a marshalled platoon awaited… Not them evidently, as a nightmarish spider woman with bony wings skittered and lurched across the walls, shrieking for blood.
Her many eyes gaze turned to their party, but Singer let the shadows of the Saronite suffuse her and willed her mind to brush up against the monsters. They followed her gaze to the rallying guards and with a shriek she pounced, ripping through their vanguard in one chaotic strike.
Leaving the monster to her business they barreled forward as roars and howls echoed in the halls.
Malakk looked to Seer Ixit intensely. The capital library had been cleared of all distractions leaving nothing but pristine white stone and arcane powder throughout as the Nerubian and his followers worked their magic.
A rippling proto portal shone intensely at the heart of the Nerubian and Troll fueled ritual. The Nerubian at the helm whispered, their voice echoing across the chamber and rebounding off the walls.
"They have breached the prison, we felt it; their defenses lay weakened and when our allies return to us, we shall be able to break through the spellwork's and secure their escape."
Malakk nodded, Zerat clenched in his hand tightly, healers and elite warriors on standby.
'It is not the escape that worries, but if the magus can harness the wound we leave behind.'
But it was a risk he would have to take to keep his word and protect his allies.
Before the final door to the interrogation chamber even opened, Singer was within. Bursting from darkness and driving a shadow infused dagger into a water elemental's bracers. It gargled in its alien tongue and vanished in a spray of fine mist, too think and light to even be mistaken for blood.
The doors burst open and before its partner could strike her, a barrage of arrows and spells scattered it to mist in seconds.
"Spread out, guard entries, we free her!" Moky ordered, as sword wielders and bowman scattered along the walls and Singer guarded the casters backs as they began to rip away the crackling bars that bound Jandice.
'She will never walk again,' Singer mused, seeing her discolored leg, barely hanging on by a thread.
The woman's eyes were glazed, and her entire body twitched and spasmed weakly, too pained and paranoid to sleep, but too tired to move.
"Dying… Hurts… Wild…" She gurgled.
That was when the West doorway exploded. The dual guards howled for but a moment as one had his head incased in ice and the other was blasted to patty along the walls in a burst of fire.
The purple, blue and gold lined robes marked her as an Arch Magi, and with a sneer she said, "I sensed your coming, like moths to the flame."
Bolts, grenades, and knives hurtled towards her, but with a sharp burst of arcane power she sent each item rebounding back upon its wielder.
"I can take her!" Pai cried, staff crackling with the lightning.
"You will die, traitor!" The arch magi answered, fire writhing at her staff's tip and summoning an explosion at Pai's feet, sending her fleeing backwards.
In a flash Rose and Lisa let loosed dual dispels and the flames ebbed, drawing a snarl from the arch magi who levelled her stave and unleashed a gout of ice, while arcane bolts burst from her back towards the pair.
Pai met the ice with an arcane barrier, it held for a moment, but at the last instant, the energy shattered, and she was launched to the floor, Rose and Lisa screaming as they feebly shielded themselves against the arcane barrage battering their bodies.
Ignoring Pai's cursing and efforts to rejoin the fray, Singer burst from the Arch Magi's shadow, daggers diving towards her heart and throat!
Only for the woman's body to flicker in rippling purple before she flashed a foot away, a burst of air escaping her palm, launching Singer away. Only with a sharp roll and dragging of daggers on stone did she avoid striking the wall.
Paying her no mind, the mage leveled her stave at the prisoner again, a bolt of crackling arcane energy loosed with nary a motion.
That was when an idol, not even a Saronite idol but some strange totem, was lobbed into it and cancelled the spell with a flicker.
"No, no," Moky intoned, from the roof where their claws dug into the stone. "Release Jandice and escape, that is the plan. I, will fight!" Moky drew another idol from their robes.
Modera was seething, "You traitors take orders from a beast, you betray your nations and let loose a host of monsters upon the good people of Dalaran, just to save this worm!?"
She let loose another flash of arcane bolts which the creature did not even try to counter; instead, it released its grip a second before her bolts struck leaving them to blitz the ceiling as her target fell to the ground with nary a sound.
"Original plan was so elegant, so sneaky. This is so messy, how sad," the creature intoned as they toyed with what looked to be a red steel ball in one paw and a carved idol in the other. "Still, you pushed our paw and so we must do things this way."
They jumped back, orbs of lightning crackling to life and forming a shield as they barked, "Come, Archmagi! You fight Elder_Shaman_Moky of the Rageclaw, I shall not let you pass!"
Modera spat, "I will not honor a beast with a damned duel!" Launching a trio of writhing of arcane orbs, each one an explosion blended with a dozen arcane blades locked within it.
'Even their anti-magic metal can only absorb what strikes it!'
The orb descended on the intruders only for the beast to lob a red metal orb the size of her hand at the closest.
Arcane energies ripped it asunder in an instant, but her pride floundered as the spell was lost beneath a surging sea of white foams that only grew and grew as it greedily drank the magic in the air and cut her foes from her sight.
"What is this!?" She roared, arcane barrier battering the swelling foam aside as it washed over the chamber like a wave.
"Elder_Shaman_Moky is very skilled, you come for me, you best be ready for tricks!" The creature cheered from out of sight.
Fire writhed at her feet and with a slash of her stave, Madora burned through the foam, only to be greeted by hissing steam filling the chamber as it was burnt away.
The steam began surging and whirling around her, a burning, hissing mass of elemental fury that would blister away every layer of skin if she let it get close.
Stave and arm crossing over her chest in a sharp X, one single word echoed in her mind, 'Disjunction!' The surge of arcane magic disrupted the bonds of supernal energies infusing the mist.
Stone floors slick with water and her vision still barred, she slammed her stave into the ground and a wave of arcane power parted the remaining mists in one swift motion.
To reveal an empty chamber.
'No, no!' She raced forward, seeking them, the distant sounds of battle crashed and echoed in her ears.
Gaze snapping to a side door, the faint trails of footprints and lingering magic in the air.
"I am ending this, now!"
The unfinished portal had suddenly burst to life and was followed by the distorted sounds of breaking stone and shouts. Malakk and his guards braced before orange masked humans scrambled through the gate, carrying the limp and sickly form of Jandice Barov between them.
"Healers," Malakk barked and the robed priests and shamans raced forward, delicately taking her limp frame from the stunned humans and laying her on a large stretcher.
His guards helped guide escapees from the portal as more of their kin came through, but he could hear crackling shouts and roaring flames and waters in the distance.
In a flash of light, the trio of mages and Moky fell through the gate, all looking a little worse for wear but alive as they were rushed out of the ritual circle and the arcanists began to seal the gate.
"Do not!" Moky snapped.
"What happened Elder?" Malakk asked, kneeling before the shaman.
"Complication!" They yipped, tail thumping against their back frantically. "Archmagus, fought, distracted, tracked us!"
Malakk's gaze snapped to Ixit who clicked, "She holds the portal now, but it can be closed."
"Can the rift recover in time, or will I be expecting bombs and mages at any moment?" Malakk asked, brow arched.
The Nerubian did not answer for some time, which said all Malakk needed to hear.
"Keep it open," he ordered.
"Clarify," The Nerubian demanded.
"Keep the portal open and under your control," He answered, "Gathered in this palace is a Legion of Gundrak, an elder shaman and elite arcanists while on the other side is a fortified prison."
Bith'sa looked to him warily, "Do you mean to hold the prison?"
"Yes, we have no choice," he said, grasping Zerat in one hand and thumping his chest with the other, "We have lost the element of surprise and our sabotage plan cannot go forward. If we lose this chance, they will bunker down and drag this out for years. We must keep them distracted and off balance."
Bith'sa and Kutube'sa knelt before him, "We shall lead this strike force!"
"You shall not," he barked with an almost jovial laugh, "You are my guards, you go where I go, and I shall lead this mission!" He slashed Zerat through the air, making it howl as rippling firelight danced on the blades tip.
'I need to knock the rust off anyhow.'
"Summon Moorabi and his elite escorts if he has not yet left me, they shall join us, but leave the city watchers and guard as they are."
"We can hold the gateway," Ixit whispered in his ear.
Malakk bit back a scoff, "Seer Ixit! Your people wanted the secrets of Dalaran? Then you'd best be ready to fight for them!"
The Nerubians looked to one another warily, before a hiss rose up and Anok'suten lurched forward, dual blade stave in hand, "Then lead us well, or suffer the consequences."
"That is the spirit!" he raised Zerat high, "Heroes of Zul'Drak, with me!"
His warriors cheered, shaking the densely packed chamber, and drawing an angered hushing from the healers. Ignoring the flash of embarrassed guilt, Malakk raced forward, Bith'sa managing to leap just a little ahead of him as Kutube'sa fell in at his side.
In a flash the entire world became a wildly chaotic, writhing mass of color and sensations, before just as quickly it ended, and they burst forth into a dimly lit stone hall with fire and arcane bolts raining upon them.
Bith'sa raised her shield and a barrier of ice formed, melting and cracking under the destructive wave, but blocking the attacks path.
Kutube'sa howled as he leapt off Malakks back and flipped over the two mages behind them, sword ablaze.
Malakk's eyes widened and his spirt sang as he saw the woman before him, power, and rage rippling from her frame and he grinned, 'The Archmage!'
He charged through Bitha's fading defense and slashed Zerat against her defensive barrier. The blade warping and breaking the magical bubble-like tough leather, letting him hook Zerat in and tear it asunder.
Not wasting a moment, she surged backwards, a burst of arcane shaped akin to her body exploding towards him in direct reflection of her path.
Not being a fool Malakk spun out of the way and leapt backwards as it swelled and exploded in a fantastic display of light.
Bouncing off the wall he kicked off it just as fast to dodge another spell of flames and crashed against the next wall, stone crunching beneath his feet before he vaulted towards the floor. A potion flew from his hand and crashed against her next spell, enchanted ichors matched the roaring flame and smothered it beneath a bubbling tide of green.
The roar of his warriors echoed in the halls as they surged through the portal. The arch magus twitched at the sound of her allies fall at the hands of Bith'sa and Kutube'sa. Then, before Malakk could charge her, she grasped a small token on her hip that flashed orange and then pink before she vanished in a burst of blinding light.
'Wise move, if I had known that could hasten teleportation, I would have aimed for it.'
Shaking off his annoyance, Malakk was joined by Moky, Pai Stormbringer and his guards; raising his blade high, he bellowed, "Form war bands, keep together, we must secure all entryways to bar reinforcements, and then crush or capture the remaining foes!"
"Hail Frost King Malakk, as you command!"
Modera materialized outside the Violet Hold, at its very gates which now hung mangled and broken from the reinforced walls. The deep lakes that acted as a moat were tingled with blood from the mangled bodies and her gaze set upon the culprit within seconds.
Occu'thar, the giant, twin headed, eye-stalked covered demon hound must have raced from its cell the moment the spells failed and burst from the walls themselves. Any guards in its way were torn to shred, but by the Lights grace, Drenden and his soldiers had at least arrived to contain the beast.
Roaring, the demon violently swatted and slashed at the bracing footman and knights, tearing some from the ground before its paw strike ground to a halt.
What looked to be a hundred arrows were let loose from all angles, making it snarl.
Drawing back and letting loose accrued fel spells from its many eye stalks as the rangers leapt and weave out of the way.
Modera joined her spell with Drenden's and the other mages to swiftly dispel the demon's magic.
In its distracted state it did not notice the host of knights striking at it from the side, lances jamming into its flanks, making it howl a distorted cry, lurching away from them to try in retreat. Only to back into a wall of ice rising from the city streets by the will of a host of Elite Mages.
Summoning her spare staff, Modera slammed it into the ground and let loose a baleful pulse of heat that made the stone streets hiss and bubble beneath the demon's paws. It reared up, yowling, laying its belly bare for another swarm of arrows.
"Good show, Modera!" Drenden called, letting loose a mighty hail of roiling and writhing ice magic to snuff out the demon's fire breath.
"Where are the others!?" She called.
An explosion from the Violet Hold's peak echoed across the city and she added, "We need more forces here!"
"Would that we could!" Her ally called.
They combined their forces to dispel another wave of demonic curses as the footman bunched together and groaned as one and the demon slammed its gargantuan paw against them, only to draw back at another wave of arrows.
She glared at Drenden who raced to her side, spells never fading, his mind never wandering from the battle, even as he spoke. "Zae'Rathis_the_Mad has rallied captured mages and escaped into the city, and those damn trolls on the coast let loose a barrage on the barrier moments before the Hold fell into chaos."
"So, everyone is occupied!?"
"For now, it is just us," he confirmed.
"Then let us be done with this quickly!"
Crossing their staves, arcane magic began to shine so bright it was blinding, while all around the sounds of battle roared.
'Dalaran, will not fall,' Modera swore beneath the morning sun.
____________________________________
NOTES:
So... This chapter was a lot, so much is coming back to me now that I am editing it, its been so long XD In hindsight I wish I had given Pai more to do and that I'd drawn out the duel more but Moky was aiming to just bail so... I will see if I can address that later.
I can't remember what part of canon made me have Modera be so ruthless, I think it was the fact in that canonized side story it was established she did nothing to stop Garithos ordering the death of the Blood Elves? Also, torture doesn't net information, but WOW uses it all the time so I wanted to throw that out there. The you made me, dragonic experiment is tied to the fact the book on pollymorphing says that Dalaran is understanding about the creation of abominations against nature but that they need to be disposed of quietly... Suffice to say some weren't and are very pissed at their makers.
lead us well, or suffer the consequences is from Visionaries, "Rule me well, or suffer the consequences" was always such a great line to me. Also, if it wasn't clear, portals between locations create passage ways in the Nether, rifts in reality even after the portal closes, not big one's but they are there and like a thread on a sweat they can be grasped and pulled to make a hole. That is what Malakk is afraid of and why he's decided to jump in and try to fight this problem head on, is this a good plan, should he be making this decision unilaterally, is there even a good plan that can be made, who knows!?
I do hope I managed to make everyone involved feel suitably skilled, especially Modera/Dalaran and Moky.
Sorry, still working on the new update, but I was chatting with a friend and had a thought; namely, that I think the way I write trolls and 'humans' perspective on religion informs a lot.
Like, for trolls, a big part of what makes something divine is its intellect. Its why Drakkari consider the Light magic, not holy even if they are being polite about it. But more pointedly, religion is heavily tied to death and the afterlife. IE, you conduct yourself well in life, earn honor and pass on to join the ancestors in the afterlife overseen by your gods. That is to say, conduct in the material plane, while influenced by religion, ties more heavily to what comes after.
In The Holy Light the afterlife is mostly an afterthought, not without consideration as its commonly accepted everyone becomes one with the Light when they die, but even that has some debate about it. IE is all individuality lost, are they becoming a linked consciousness, is it less literal and more the soul living in the Light and its a holy kingdom? Its all discussed but seen as a mystery of the faith. The Light is based primarily about conduct in the material plane.
Like for the Light Worshippers its addressing problems of the material, day to day suffering and a desire for community.
For worshippers of the Loa, religion is built more around long term stuff in regards to what one gains from their service.
They also noted: ""ironically it's a switcharoo from how their real llife inspirations are perceived, with "paganism" as something material and here and now and christianity as one for the long term stuff"
Not sure where I am going with this, but I thought it was interesting.
Like, for trolls, a big part of what makes something divine is its intellect. Its why Drakkari consider the Light magic, not holy even if they are being polite about it. But more pointedly, religion is heavily tied to death and the afterlife. IE, you conduct yourself well in life, earn honor and pass on to join the ancestors in the afterlife overseen by your gods. That is to say, conduct in the material plane, while influenced by religion, ties more heavily to what comes after.
In The Holy Light the afterlife is mostly an afterthought, not without consideration as its commonly accepted everyone becomes one with the Light when they die, but even that has some debate about it. IE is all individuality lost, are they becoming a linked consciousness, is it less literal and more the soul living in the Light and its a holy kingdom? Its all discussed but seen as a mystery of the faith. The Light is based primarily about conduct in the material plane.
Like for the Light Worshippers its addressing problems of the material, day to day suffering and a desire for community.
For worshippers of the Loa, religion is built more around long term stuff in regards to what one gains from their service.
They also noted: ""ironically it's a switcharoo from how their real llife inspirations are perceived, with "paganism" as something material and here and now and christianity as one for the long term stuff"
Not sure where I am going with this, but I thought it was interesting.
The Winter War - Part 11: Family Feuds
The Winter War - Part 11: Family Feuds
Even as morning came and the sun rose, the land remained dim and swallowed in shadows thanks to the thick clouds that swelled in the skies above.
Snow tracks on the slopes to the Hinterlands slowed Aliden and Skarloc's race back to Durnholde. Though thanks to his friends ranks as captain they had been able to acquire a new horse from a nearby watch tower.
Braying, the raven mare kicked snow into the air, the mighty war horse thumped across the planes towards the looming walled city of Durnholde and within it, his cousin.
Aliden had to bite back a scowl at the thought of his self-serving relative, one who had handed his own kin over to the Alliance to help retain his rank and safety.
'Mother trusted you, you bastard!'
But he held back rage back, swallowed the bile and kept his face carefully stone-like in its banal neutrality. 'Blackmoore will get what's coming to him, Skarloc may not see its necessity, but I do. And with his fall, I shall rise again, casting off the shade of treachery that has brought me nothing but ruin!'
"We are almost there!" Skarloc bellowed.
"Good, I rather think I have gone numb!" He Aliden tried to joke, drawing a hearty chuckle from his friend.
The sound was drowned out by a sudden burst of roaring flames.
The blazing orb crashed against Skalrloc's chest and with a blast of stinging heat, launched them from the terrified horse.
Crashing into the snow, Aliden swept his legs around, drawing a short sword and dagger in quick succession as he rose to his feet, eyes already tracing the path of the shot to see…
"Beve…"
Standing atop a thick branch of an ancient elm was his sister, black and purple lines robes flowing in the chill breeze as she leveled her stave at them, expression stiff as stone. From behind a raised bed of stone stepped her bodyguard, bladed-shield and squared off short sword drawn, with fire in her eyes.
"Foul traitors, you think to kill Blackmoore's Spear!?" Skarloc seethed, forcing himself to his feet and drawing his weapon.
That was when a lurid and lazy voice wafted over them, "That title is no longer fitting," Spoke Blackmoore, trotting into view from atop his horse.
"Milord!?"
Blackmoore just tisked, "To think you would betray me, but then you two always were close and yet is it not my symbol you wear upon your shield!?"
"I did not such thing my lord, I came to warn you of their treason!" Skarloc cried, motioning at Beve and Richelle.
Blackmoore swayed in his saddle, "Do not mock my intelligence Skarloc if you were forthright, I might have trusted you, but you hid this from me!" An accusing finger was level at Aliden, drawing a pained cringe from Skarloc.
"My lord, he is-"
Blackmoore spat, "Aliden is a traitor born and bred, he intended to oust me to the Alliance and take my place!" The man's twisted leer turned to Aliden, "Well, have at it boy, but your sister and her pet would like a few words first!"
They were given no more time, a bolt of flames flew at Aliden and he leapt backwards, barely avoiding the blast only to see Beve's form flicker with magic before she surged towards him like a bolt!
Crashing down into the ground she raised her arms in a roar and a blast wave of arcane energy slammed against him like a giant fist as snow was kicked into, the air.
He could barely make out Skarloc's shouting before it was drowned out by Richelle's roar. Her shield crashing against his blade before she swiped at his face with her squared off short sword, forcing him back.
Staggering back, Aliden weaved around another bolt of magic, kicking snow into his sister's face to obscure his frantic charge. Swords glinted and slashed through the air but met her stave with a clang!
His twin strikes won out against her one-handed grasp on her stave but in a flash, she freed the steel beam, letting it blur before him as a dagger slipped form her robed sleeve and slashed across his shoulder, barely missing his jugular.
'She will kill me!'
Catching her staff with practices ease and levelling it at him, another bolt of magic flew, and he was forced to strike it out of the air with his blade, leaving his hands numb.
"Beve do you really want to betray humanity again!?"
"Oh, come brother do not be so provincial," Her faux humorous tone was maligned by the edge if sheer rage.
A burst of flames, he leapt around It and slashed, but his strike was caught on her stave and this time she let loose a spell from her dagger, skimming his shoulder.
His gaze snapped to Skarloc and a horrified choke ripped form his throat as he saw Richelle grasping his face beneath her gargantuan gauntlets before slamming him into the ground.
With a roar he dashed forward, weaving around her first spell, slashing her dagger from Beve's grasp before thrusting his long sword towards her throat.
But at the last second, Beve weaved around it, sweeping at his feet with her staff.
He barely dodged it and made to swing again!
It would have taken her head clean off, had she not released a burst of force from the staff's base.
"Ah!" Pain exploded along his leg, as armor was ruptured by magic and he was thrown to his side, chest heaving, eyes wild as he brought a blade up to defend himself.
"Beve… Please.... I'm your brother."
"You killed our father," she seethed, staff rising high above her head, a blazing ball of fire swelled.
And then Richelle was upon him and in one fell moment there was a sharp thud of pain in his throat, it lanced through his head while everything else faded and then…
Nothing.
Beve clutched her staff so tightly her knuckles went numb, "I had it under control, Richelle."
Richelle spun on her knees and bowed, "Forgive me mistress, but it is my duty to bear the stains of blood wherever I can, not yours."
Sucking in a low breath she turned away from her brothers' body, setting it alight with a snap of her fingers, as Blackmoore's slurred tones echoed across the snow planes.
"Very entertaining ladies, but perhaps we can be done now? I want to be out of this damned cold!" He was still swaying on his damned horse, the ease with which she could kill him... But no... Patience.
Richelle was scowling as she was wont to do, while Beve offered him a tense smile, "Of course cousin." As they strode away towards him, she saw the mans toady had returned with her brothers horse and she quickly claimed.
High on horse back and the vast planes of white capped trees and planes before her and mountains above... Her chest ached, her eyes stung, it all reminded her of home and days gone by.
'It will all be for nothing if we fail here!'
Pushing aside the melancholy that was seeping its way into her muscles and bones, biting down on the anger roiling in her gut, Beve rode alongside Blackmoore.
"So dear cousin, what do you intend to do now?"
The man's response was an ugly snort, "I suppose you will be wanting me to saddle up with this savage king of yours?"
Beve answered with an elegant shrug, "You may do as you wish, his offer of neutrality still stands, so you could simply watch this war glide by."
"Think me a fool?" Blackmoore howled. "Throas is marching to my doorstep and he will take my soldiers when he comes. He will be hungry for land and esteem and I will be left with a camp of slovenly animals. I doubt your king will see a reason to leave me to tend what is mine."
"So, you intend to serve the Alliance?" She plied.
"I am wanting for options, Thoras will cast me down the first chance he gets and after Skarloc…" He ran a hand down his face, somehow sweating despite the cold. "He was my spear, my champion and yet he hid this from me. ME!? How can I trust the others to side with me?"
"He was friends with my brother, perhaps that compelled his betrayal rather than loyalty to the Alliance?" Beve said, keeping her tone honeyed and soft.
Blackmoore swayed in his saddle in thought, "Maybe, but he ruined your plan to smuggle soldiers in all the same and I cannot trust those that remain, not really…"
Richelle snorted, "You expect us to believe you have no criminals or gladiators among your number?"
"Mind your tongue!" Beve said, swiping her staff across her bodyguard's head so carefully as to avoid harming her, but to keep it looking good.
Blakcmoore scowled mightily, forcing himself to sit higher in the saddle, for all the good it did him. "I have many, but not enough to take the Durnholde without help and the orcs are too stupid to be organized so subtly."
Beve was not a seasoned general, but she'd orchestrated her fair share of ambushes, more than her fair share of sabotage, and sat in on plenty of war meetings. So, the potential resolution came to her easily enough.
"But is it they who need to be organized, dear cousin?"
"What's this you're rambling?"
Beve bowed, "You have gunpowder aplenty and the soldiers believe in you well enough, could we perhaps… Call a meeting in the right place…"
"At the right time…" He rubbed his chin, "Yes, that could work." He scowled at her again, "You would still leave me at the mercy of this savage king you love so much."
"Hardly, dear cousin, in truth I think he will welcome you happily and it seems he has little desire to rule when he can plunder. Leaving matters of state to us. Why, he even allows little Lianne and her daughter the right to rule Tirisfal in his name and they are royal hostages," her words tinged with a mocking titter.
She motioned grandly around them, "Think of it, all of Arathi and Hillsbrad in your domain, and with myself ruling Alterac, well…" She gave him a side eyed smirk, "I am sure someone of your ambition can see the potential."
Blackmoore's lost expression slowly grew more assured and cockier as he rubbed his matted beard, "Yes… Yes, there is potential in that… Still, we would have trouble manning the cannons afterwards and Trollbane may suspect something."
"The Drakkari have been sabotaging guard towers, I can send Richelle to him in the guise of a runner and she can say an aerial raid was fought off. As to the walls," She shrugged, "If we do not have enough to let loose the cannons, I may be able to summon some assistance once the mages have been dealt with."
"You may?" He groused.
"It took no small amount of effort to simply get Richelle and myself here ahead of my brother," she bit her lip for but a moment. "But if we compromise the defenses, we may be able to call on more soldiers."
"Hmm," Blackmoore groaned, hands running through greasy hair, "you really think he shall win?"
Beve smirked, "His armies have crushed all opposed so far, even the combined effort of Dalaran and Lordaeron are merely slowing his march, not stopping it."
"And you think to accept a troll as king, even for a time?" He asked.
"We must play the hand fate has dealt us." Beve smirked at him, "but there is no reason we cannot carry cards up our sleeves, no?"
Blackmoore guffawed, "Let us try it then, not as though I can trust Trollbane any more than a troll."
"You are very wise, dear cousin," Beve offered with a flourished half bow.
"Naturally," he chuckled, throwing back a swig of wine as they approached the fortress town of Durnholde Keep, Beve pulling her hood over her head as they went.
'The simple part is done, now we merely have to survive this.'
Midday was fast approaching and even the thick clouds of winter were thinning to reveal cracks of sunlight, each of which was welcomed by the men and women of Durnholde, and even its prisoners. Shivering Orcs packed atop one another in flimsy cabins, draping every last scrap of dry cloth over themselves they could to fight off the cold.
It was a pitiful sight, one many took pleasure in, but that Sergeant had merely grown accustomed to after efforts to procure more blankets had failed. Though, with war afoot, the warriors mind was neglecting the orcs and the weather in favor of turning over his lord commanders' words again and again.
"When Trollbane arrives, he will be taking many of my soldiers, I will not let him use my men to cover himself in glory. I will be joining them and leading them in battle, we shall leave a skeleton crew behind, the Orcs are feeble and even more useless in the cold, but if worst comes to worst." He clapped Sergeant's shoulder and offered a watery grin, "I know I can trust in you to see us through any hardship."
It had been strangely sincere for a man Sergeant had long since come to view as a petty tyrant, more in love with tormenting orcs and servant girls while drowning in drink than anything else.
'The men being left behind might consider themselves lucky,' a treasonous part of him thought, but was quickly silenced as he continued his rounds and took in his remaining forces. Blackmoore had wanted to brief as many of the soldiers he expected to take with him as possible, so many that they were still marshaling in the keep.
'And as expected, I am left with dregs,' He thought bitterly at the sight of Blackmoore's various "Personal hirelings". They tended to range between tough but utterly un-respectable thugs to simpering bootlickers. He recognized a few good souls among them, but it seemed Blackmoore knew well enough his own employees were a useless lot…
'Something in this, does not feel right, a tension in the air,' he thought, looking down upon the Orcs who were peeking out from their huts and body piles as if confused and curious.
"Milord- ah I mean, lord Sergeant?" a youthful voice called.
Turning his attention to a young page, he answered, "Just Sergeant, what do you need boy?"
"Ah, well, some of the men and I had worries about this few of us being left as guards, they hoped you could tell us the strategy." He shoulders slumped and he kicked the dirt, "I am smallest, so they sent me."
Sergeant scoffed, "Lazy louts, they can hear from me once I speak with Thomas the mage and Chaplain Mathers."
A brief look of something flashed across the boy's face as he raced after him, Sergeant unwilling to slow his gait as his concern grew. He took another glance at the keep and its neighboring tower, 'Why are so many of the staff there? It's a watch post?'
The boy piped up, voice cracking, "Sergeant we-. I mean, the men are concerned."
"So am I," he snapped, gaze locking onto the Chaplain's private residence when a flash of something through the window caught his gaze and he took off running.
Steel boots clanking on the cobblestone path, Sergeant kicked in the door to the Chaplain's home and saw one of Blackmoore's Warden's standing over the fallen man's body.
"Shit!" she cursed, letting loose a burning fire light from her stave.
Pain ripped through his chest, his ribs felt to be burning, stretched, and bent all at once, but with a roar he pushed through it and burst forward, ramming his sword through the warden's throat in one strike, and dispelling the pain a mere second later.
But a second was all it took for the boy who followed him to jump upon his back.
Sergeant barely angled away from a lethal blow, cursing as the dagger embedded itself above his ribs. With his good arm he grasped the boy's hair and flung him to the floor; cries for mercy stalled his blade as much as a shout from outside did.
"Sergeant! Sergeant! Thomas is de- Aack!"
He turned to see a towering woman in heavy armor standing behind the private, grasping his head in her metal gauntlet covered hand and snapping his neck in one sharp motion.
"Who are you!?" He seethed.
"Alterac's vengeance," she answered, barreling forward, bladed-shield raised as if to tackle him through the walls!
His blade crashed against her shield, skidded across the steel and swipe across her helmet denting it before she crashed into him. Slamming him against the wall, it shattered, showering them in splinters as they crashed to the ground.
"What's what!?"
"Someone just tackled Sergeant out a wall!"
"Bandits!?"
"We're under attack!"
From behind the Mage made invisibility barrier Beve sighed, the sound swallowed by that of crackling fire in her grasp.
'Really Richelle? Oh well, this will have to do.'
With that she let loose the spell, thrusting her palms forward, a choked roar escaped her lips and a mighty flamestrike burst to life in the gunpowder stuffed basement of Durnholde's barracks.
Beve could hear the explosion roaring to life as the ground rumbled, she and her mage companions threw themselves to the ground outside as a roaring blast of fire and raining brick shrapnel exploded across the air.
Arcane barrier ate up the worst of the blast, but Beve hissed and cringed as scorching pellets cut and bruised her skin.
Pushing herself up, she saw a few of the soldiers who had been approaching the Backs had fallen in the blast, but not all.
Levelling her staff at the staggered soldiers, blades of ice shot forth, jaggedly impaling one after the other as her cousin's agents sprung into action across the keep.
Rogues bared daggers, warriors' swords, while his Wardens and mages let loose spells as they swarmed over the surviving loyalists and the gates slammed closed before even the first civilian could escape.
'We need to end this quickly!'
In the distance, the armies of Stromgarde and Ironforge froze in their march.
The united march of Stromgarde and Ironforge had, for but a moment, ground to a violent halt. Worried whispers and murmurs were washing across the long line of soldiers while Galen glared through his spyglass.
He could see only a blurry pillar of smoke and dust, clear signs of an explosion but little else and drew the only logical conclusion.
"Durnholde has fallen, sabotage, treason or a surprise attack, it does not matter." Valorcall leaned in, a silent question in his gaze, and Galen whispered in his ear, "If my father is wise, we will either fall back or approach with caution."
A sharp ringing bell cut through the air as a crier race down the line on horseback, "King Trollbane and Prince Bronzebeard demand we march with renewed vigor! We must reinforce Durnholde before it is too late! To arms, warriors of Arathi, to glory!"
Soldiers voices rose high in cheer, as Galen sagged in his saddle.
"My prince," Valorcall whispered brushing a hand along his arm, "What do you, wish to do?"
Heart and soul stirred, Galen rose to his full height just as their column began moving and answered, "Get word to my Stromgarde Snipers Company and anyone else you know to be reliable, we will break off over the next hour and return home."
"What then, my prince?" Valorcall asked with anticipation and a grin.
Galen winked, "Let us see what the morning brings."
___________________________________________________
NOTES:
Sorry this one is a bit late, we had an election in my country and suffice to say its been hectic but a huge relief,
All the chapters in this area take place at around the same time, hence jumping from Jail Break to this and so on. I cut one very old line from this, following Beve's provincial jab, she would have said: "Our world is rife with other species and the trolls are hardly the Horde." I like it, but I don't think it flowed with the action scene.
So yeah, Beve and Richelle were flung ahead through no small amount of effort and basically filled Blackmoore's head with a lot of bullshit and wine. After that it was just a matter of heading off Skarloc before they arrived and not leaving enough time to speak. Though if Blackmoore had changed his mind, they'd have likely tried to kill him too and go to plan C.
One thing I am aiming to do is to show a diverse range of people's and beliefs in both the Alliance and the Drakkari. So I hope using Seargent as I did served that role and avoided leaving the Defenders of Durnehold feeling too passive, even if they did ultimately loose out and also why they lost.
So the treason seeds I planted are finally starting to grow XD
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Sorry to ramble about my own work, but writing Blackmoore's scenes again really did remind me just how herculian the task of keeping the Alliance together and the nations stable must have been for Teranas and other willing/competent leaders. Like, I know nations aren't fragile, my own countries spent the last nine years ruled by a ring of incompetent, corruption clods, but still, the burden must have been so heavy.
Because like, even ignoring the costs of the war, here's the pre war/Scourge situation for the Alliance:
Firstly, two of its member states left.
Gilneas has functionally cut itself in half and the Silverpine Nobles were almost universally loathed by their consistence and trade was minimized.
Quel'Thalas has Dar'Khan Drathir, someone so powerful, well connected and informed that he can sabotage their otherwise near impenetrable defenses and would do so at the first opportunity if he thought it'd make him more powerful, essentially gutting his nations power source at the same time.
Then within the Alliance states, things look OK on the surface:
There's Troggs coming out of Uldaman but no one yet knows how bad it can get but we know it can get incredibly bad and Mechano Thermaplugg is willing to go to insane lengths to gain what he feels he's owed.
Dalaran 'seems' fine, but even ignoring the powder keg that is the Violet Hold, one of their former leaders, a mage of incredible power and malice is out and about, rich and free to do as he pleases and knows their leaders identities, knows Dalaran's defenses and tons of their other secrets, wants to be a Necromancer and wants revenge
Stromgarde's own prince is plotting a coup against its king and say what one will about whether he'd be better than Thoras, this certainly shows a lot of tension and lays the groundwork for potential instability.
Kul'Tira's ruling elite are either mired in their own internal scandal or actively plotting to take over the country by force of arms if need be.
Stormwind has its highest none royal position occupied by a malevolent dragon, corrupt nobles and a brewing rebellion; and that's ignoring stuff like Duskwood and the Horde at their doorstep.
And then there's Lordaeron, poor Lordaeron, with some nobles so arrogant they'd order their farmhands to try and fight off the Scourge and get them all killed. High level nobles like the Barovs who oversee a peninsula settlement large enough to secretly house a whole school for Necromancers and close enough to the primary grain distributor to sabotage it. Baron Rivendare, who holds sway in or rules over the largest or second largest city in the nation, along with a host of other nameless noble traitors who signed on with the Scourge n canon. Duke Falravere who bailed on the country as soon as he could and hate the very concept of the Alliance and or its none human members, the latter trait shared by Lordaeron's Grand Marshal and several high ranking church and military officials. Plus Blackmoore, who wanted to raise an army and overthrow the kingdom!
All of that, plus, a noble led insurgency/bandit plague being orchestrated by the leaders of fallen noble houses from Alterac, and with members of the Shadow Council roaming the backwoods seeking to pillage and murder, plus all the Ogre Clans.
Like, sure, many of these people won't take action without impetus but that's the thing, the moment the chance is there they'd jump on it and to devastating effect too, or so I believe.. Keeping all that together and more to the point so stable none of them save the most desperate even made moves to the effect until a powerhouse offered them the means to do so, well, that surely is a credit to the likes to the Council of Six, Teranas, the Proudmoores, Uther and more.
Because like, even ignoring the costs of the war, here's the pre war/Scourge situation for the Alliance:
Firstly, two of its member states left.
Gilneas has functionally cut itself in half and the Silverpine Nobles were almost universally loathed by their consistence and trade was minimized.
Quel'Thalas has Dar'Khan Drathir, someone so powerful, well connected and informed that he can sabotage their otherwise near impenetrable defenses and would do so at the first opportunity if he thought it'd make him more powerful, essentially gutting his nations power source at the same time.
Then within the Alliance states, things look OK on the surface:
There's Troggs coming out of Uldaman but no one yet knows how bad it can get but we know it can get incredibly bad and Mechano Thermaplugg is willing to go to insane lengths to gain what he feels he's owed.
Dalaran 'seems' fine, but even ignoring the powder keg that is the Violet Hold, one of their former leaders, a mage of incredible power and malice is out and about, rich and free to do as he pleases and knows their leaders identities, knows Dalaran's defenses and tons of their other secrets, wants to be a Necromancer and wants revenge
Stromgarde's own prince is plotting a coup against its king and say what one will about whether he'd be better than Thoras, this certainly shows a lot of tension and lays the groundwork for potential instability.
Kul'Tira's ruling elite are either mired in their own internal scandal or actively plotting to take over the country by force of arms if need be.
Stormwind has its highest none royal position occupied by a malevolent dragon, corrupt nobles and a brewing rebellion; and that's ignoring stuff like Duskwood and the Horde at their doorstep.
And then there's Lordaeron, poor Lordaeron, with some nobles so arrogant they'd order their farmhands to try and fight off the Scourge and get them all killed. High level nobles like the Barovs who oversee a peninsula settlement large enough to secretly house a whole school for Necromancers and close enough to the primary grain distributor to sabotage it. Baron Rivendare, who holds sway in or rules over the largest or second largest city in the nation, along with a host of other nameless noble traitors who signed on with the Scourge n canon. Duke Falravere who bailed on the country as soon as he could and hate the very concept of the Alliance and or its none human members, the latter trait shared by Lordaeron's Grand Marshal and several high ranking church and military officials. Plus Blackmoore, who wanted to raise an army and overthrow the kingdom!
All of that, plus, a noble led insurgency/bandit plague being orchestrated by the leaders of fallen noble houses from Alterac, and with members of the Shadow Council roaming the backwoods seeking to pillage and murder, plus all the Ogre Clans.
Like, sure, many of these people won't take action without impetus but that's the thing, the moment the chance is there they'd jump on it and to devastating effect too, or so I believe.. Keeping all that together and more to the point so stable none of them save the most desperate even made moves to the effect until a powerhouse offered them the means to do so, well, that surely is a credit to the likes to the Council of Six, Teranas, the Proudmoores, Uther and more.
Someone on the SB thread wondered what would have happened if Malaka'Raz hadn't been killed and I kinda ran with it, three times over:
Diplomatic Contact:
Soft Power:
'Off the cuff' takes onhow this might manifest:
Diplomatic Contact:
Soft Power:
'Off the cuff' takes onhow this might manifest:
Frost King Malakk (By Julio)
I recently came into a little Ko-Fi money and decided to treat myself to a commission from a fantastic artist by the name of Juleo who has amazing prices and got this done incredibly quickly, highly recommended. I had some sort of pseudo book cover ideas in mind and really love the end result, battle ready, Frost King Malakk everybody!
Interlude: The Birth of a King
Interlude
The Birth of a King
The Birth of a King
Snow falls in a gentle cascade of pristine droplets. The air hums with a discordant song born of the crystalline trees. The sky above in a spectacular display of color and shadow.
No ghost or creature troubles the approaching woman's path, her strides marked with confidence and smooth efficiency. She has aged and yet is just as he remembered, tall of frame, pale of skin like the Sothern skies, with snow white hair in a deceptively simple series of braids. A long fur coat surrounds her, the collar brushing up against sharp features but doing nothing to hide her blooming smile.
"My son!" She cries, racing forward along ancient paths into the welcoming embrace of the prodigal child.
He is taller than her now, and broader as well, two things he somehow never expected; more reminders of how much time has passed.
They stay there in that quiet moment for a time, before she pulls back, beaming; hands clapping against his chest she is giddy. "To think you would make your poor old mother travel all the way out here!"
"And look at you, as tall as your sire now, and with their tusks," She chuckled flicking the tip of the long and only gently curved ivory, so distinct from the traditional Drakkari's, that bend upwards.
He smiles at her, "This one supposes they had to inherit something from their sire, seeing as that one insisted ever on that I carried your sharp wit and sly-"
"Oh bite your tongue," she chuckles, even as a speculative gleam enters her eyes and she casts her gaze around the Crystal Song Forests. "I confess, I thought you would be bringing company, given you chose to invite me here."
He had been expecting this, his mother was a smart woman after all and one did not rise to join the ranks of the Speakers by lacking awareness.
It would be easy, so easy to shrug it off as a flight of fancy, to go home where a comfortable bed and welcoming family await, to a world he's always known but... He cannot.
"I do not bring home a lover as you might expect, mother, but instead I carry with me a mission."
She is growing worried now, staring intently, seeking something familiar and welcome but does not find it. She is beginning to speak and he knows the name she shall say and so breaks the silence first.
"Please mother, do not say that name... It does not fit me anymore," It comes out as more hoarse and desperate than he hoped, like he's still a child wondering why cousin Ek'tal won't wake up.
She swallows, "Have you chosen a new name, or did the Shadow Tribe take it from you?"
"It is what I have chosen," He drops to his knees, hands resting on his legs as he bows his head. "Please mother, wise Soothsayer and honorable Servant of the Speaker, I beseech the... Strike my name from the family registry, so that I may be born anew and do what must be done."
Guiding his chin up so he must face her gaze and see the subtle signs of tears blooming in her eyes, she asks, "And what, pray tell, is that, oh child of mine?"
"I am going to be king."
Whatever she had expected it was clearly not that, and her tone is almost chiding when she says, "Behind bars and buried in shallow graves. These are the shared fates of those who sought the crown of Zul'Drak."
"Because they did not wear it," he steeled himself, "Nor did they seek it for a just and honorable cause."
"And your cause, for which you would cast off your family and homeland?" She asked hotly.
"Peace," He meets her stare resolutely, "Peace in Zul'Drak, safety for all our people's and prosperity for the empire."
"And for this fools dream you must leave me behind?" She asks, maybe pleads, or perhaps her tone is resigned and despairing, he does not know, he dares not ask.
Instead he smiles, "One must be above the noise; beyond the petty bickering-"
"and rivalries of those who are not charged with the states future." She chuckles without humor, "To think you would heed me in this manner."
He can only thank her, but words are not enough, yet for now they are all he has to offer, "You bore me, raised me and taught me-"
"I know all I have done, my son. What I do not know is how a few years with your sire would lead my bright boy down the path of fools and martyrs."
He takes in a long, deep breath, the cool air familiar and welcome, soothing his troubled soul as he speaks. "Our cousins do not live with the same splendor and wealth we do it is true, but so too it must be known that they live in peace. Kinslaying, blood feuds, wars... Such horrors are unknown to them. I would wish they be unknown to those who come after me."
He holds her gaze, his tone unwavering, "To be a king who unites all, I must be of everyone and no one."
She looks away, a low shuddering breath escaping her, "I see now why you were seeking names of rabble rousers and dissidents, not just of our home but others too. Will your court be made up of the unwanted and rejected?"
He clicks his tongue, "Everyone knows there is something wrong with Zul'Drak, mother. For me to feel safer sleeping in a cavern with strangers than in my home; for cousins and kin to kill each other with such ease. Zul'Drak is sick," He insists hotly, "But those who act to cure it openly are rare finds, and they are one's I would seek to hold close."
"Closer than your own family, your own mother?" Her voice is quiet now, lacking in heat or cold, warmth or chill.
He bows low, "I am sorry, honorable Speaker, and truly, eternally grateful for all you have done for me, I will not waste your efforts."
Her hand reaches out to rest upon his head, ruffling his wild lavender mane before drifting away and back into her sleeves. "Then this is where we part ways, stranger..."
And with that, she turns and leaves.
Repressing a shudder, his whole body near spasms in a bid to reach out to her, to take it all back. But even with his heart quaking and everything inside him roiling, Malakk only raises his head and speaks, "It was an honor, for this one, Frost King Malakk, to meet with you."
She calls back, chide and humor dancing with grief and fear in her voice, "Do something worthy of kingship and we shall see. And braid your hair! No one will heed such a wild looking man as monarch!"
He smiles at her and murmurs, "Thank you, mother."
__________________________________________
NOTES:
Sorry this one is a bit late and not a standard continuation, last week was super busy but also had some real high points, and my muse struck with ferocity so I ended up writing this!
I hope you enjoyed this little peek into Malakk's past.
I ummed and aahed about including this segment, but ultimately I felt it broke the flow of the interlude and that it might make more sense for a similar conversation to happen later that night but here's the missing scene:
Honestly two things I forgot to note I like about this piece, seeing Malakk's battle gear in detail compared to the games relatively low poly and finally having an idea of how his Iron Wood crown works! XD
In other thoughts, the next chapter should be out tomorrow, though after that things will be tricky as its basically 12/15 thousand words of big time conclusive stuff and figuring out how to divide that up into a satisfactory read is hard.
Totally separate from all of that, no clue if I even mentioned this before now, but its actually entirely canonical that the Drakkari will take in another troll tribe from the South as they canonically did exactly that with the Winter Axe. Korrak was even organizing the 'games' which had a multi species audience and paid members from other species too, but I digress, it just amuses me to realize they did the thing in canon that was the inception for this whole story XD
The Winter War - Part 12: Building Momentum
The Winter War - Part 12: Building Momentum
Saiden was a man above showing weaknesses before others. Which was not to say he ignored or denied his fears, for only through confronting them could one grow. But he was acutely aware of the fact a leader must remain composed and appear in control at all times. Naturally, this meant he let none of his frustration or anxieties show.
Which was good for there was much to occupy his mind with, even as he distracted himself keeping order in the bustling war camp beneath the Western mountain line. Marshalling troops, overseeing healing stations, and joining the foray against the Trolls stout dragons to keep their raiders off his armies rear guard.
'Our march through the bulwark is stalled by that eyesore of a mobile fortress, but it is just stalled,' he reminded himself. 'Already Hearthglen sends us a new wave of soldiers Tirion should have the Barov's well in hand.'
It didn't feel like enough. Not with Orcs still roaming Eastweld and striking at Internment Camps and Amani raiding Tyr's Bay; Lordaeron's reserves were stretched thin as it was and if this kept on the tethers keeping the nation together might just snap under the strain.
He took in a breath and began marching back to his tent, 'We shall not be stretched for long,' he assured himself. 'Dalaran shall be making ready, Thoras is days away, the Fleet just as close and a new wave of Tirasi soldiers and Stormwind Regulars are closer than than that!'
With such forces at his command, breaking the stalemate and plunging into Tirisfal would be simple. He could spare forces to reinforce the East and Dalaran would collaborate them in a joint strike on the capital, specialized teams ferrying the royal family and other hostages to safety while his forces engaged the Troll army.
'And then, with their power broken, we shall liberate the Monastery and slowly but surely drive them from our shores. Securing this Land for the Light, for Lordaeron and the Alliance.'
He just needed to wait a little longer.
Upon the mountain path, just beneath Heartglenn, where the roads were long and winding, the hill tops hid secret paths and great valleys, a battle was taking place. The sounds of steel and spell ringing out and echoing across the stone, reverberating through the air.
Yet, all these howls of cries were drowned out by a single voice.
'To the war, to the war we march; fear not my friends, for I am here, and you'll have a blessing of glory never ending.'
Hala'Zhi, War Priest and First Servant of the honored Ogoun, god of war and flames, iron and the hunt led the battle. Face painted in powdered bone and lined with shed blood, their staff spun, flames dancing at the tips. Each motion sharp and smooth, flowing into the next as they sang in their own tongue, but were understood by all.
'Know the whole world, shall speak of our name. We stampede through all, chests out and strong.'
Mighty Zul'Rogg and his the Zeb'Antu bled out from the humble tree lines, axes, bow and spear in hand. A host of Dragonhawk Riders and War Eagles descending from on high, their Amani masters voices raised in exultation and bloodlust.
Snarlmane the Bloodgorger, lived up to her name, the hulking Gnoll towered over her Redpine Pack and tore through the field of battle. Her maw dripping red, totemic axes in hand and crackling with a bound storm, the packs voices raised high in chorus.
One could almost hear the song of 'Crushridge Clan, Crushridge Clan' from the chants of warmongers and the chilling jeers of their mages booming. Mighty lord, Mug'thol, savoring the humans strikes against his ringing shield and the sound of his blade cleaving steel.
'The fallen shall rise and with blood in hand, our enemy shall fear, the power we bring.'
But the humans fought, oh they fought, with cold steel, harsh prayers and fire that clung to fur and skin alike. Long since practiced in the arts of flaying these old foes, even the Ogres struggled against the locked shields and and blistering spells.
The cities gates had flown open as the battle grew heated and from its gates spilled canons and militia, in chain mail and bearing humble axes. Gryphons took to the sky, with lance and crossbow, Wildhammer steel leading the charge as knights rose from fallen mounts, bruised but unbroken.
Whispered names from gods far beyond echoed in the dancers mind, Lorik the High Protector who marshalled the people. Durgen, the Cavalier who held fast even as the battle had turned against him. Radley, who took the scattered riflemen to the crevasses and behind the barricades.
'Glory we'll find through battle and loss; fear not my friends, for I am here, and you'll have a blessing of glory never ending.'
Bodies and blood littered the battlefield, the dead and dying sharing the last comforts the welcoming Earth could provide. The battle turned against them, they who would be dubbed invaders but could just as easily say they were reclaimers.
Hala'Zhi raised their staff above their head, the spiraling motions giving way to cacophony of sound as the air rustled and writhed. From the fallen and the dying, blood began to flow, blessed by the divine words and dance, it flowed into the air, swirling in mass.
The cavalier broke ranks, desperate to stop whatever he saw before it could crescendo, but he was too late. Blood faded, to reveal the iron beneath, each sharpened into a black blade that hung in the air by divine right.
'To the War, to the war we march, fear not my friends for I am hear, and you'll have a blessing of glory never ending!'
A single motion sent the blades sailing through the air, each one striking true.
Through steel and spell, be it by chinks in the armor or a thinning membrane of mana, they plunged into their foes and so, it was that the tide of battle turned again.
Hala'Zhi, looked passed their foes, the cunning commanders who had challenged them now laying dead and instead planted stave in the stone and began tp pray.
'You'll have a blessing of glory never ending.'
Priests and Shamans descended upon the field to breath life into those they could and empower those who fought on.
The gates were racing to seal themselves shut, and their army was ascending the mountain path to Hearthglenn.
'You'll have a blessing of glory never ending...'
The land of the Valley and high mountains were all gray and rocky, one could almost compare them to Zul'Drak save it being far barer. Still, with the cold winds had driven swirls of snow under the clouded skies, Lauga, a well experienced trader and Speaker of the Rageclaw, had found their time there affable.
Now though, the little Wolvar was resting after days of careful and tense traversal down those arching slopes. The thin air and grey peaks of the high mountain had long since given way to the more verdant slopes of the lower mountains.
If Lauga were to step from the cave, the Wolvar would no doubt see again the grand, green valley that rested beneath 'Alterac'. Linking the lands of the Barovs, Hillsbrad and the Hinterlands. Marked only by a long, winding river and the remnants of an assuredly once magnificent structure of the Amani, now reduced to sharply cut foundations.
'Explore later,' they thought, turning their full attention back to their compatriots in the smooth cut stone cavern and the conversation at hand. Gathered around them, through no small amount of labor and wordsmithing, were the leaders, or Speakers of nearly every Valley Dweller.
"Nervousness wafts off you, have some Kudiri early if you need it," Giggled the low, but sharp tones of the infamous 'Champion' Frostbite. Mist slipping from her maw with every word
Perking up, a black furred Kobold, still in thick feathered clothes that favored mobility hissed, "Someone needs to worry, Wildpaw. Already we ready for a war we need not fight-"
'Not good, this was resolved, no?' Lauga glanced at the hulking Korrak who rested at the back of the cavern. But the Dire troll did not deign to open his eyes as the Kobold continued.
"And the scouts are still away, if not dead," At that, 'Overseer' Sivvle glanced at the Harpy among them.
In sharp contrast to the hearty leathers of the Winter Axe and Wildpaw, the nearly bone white Snowblind Harpy wore a regalia of enchanted metals. Light blue and lined with gold, signs that Alterac's mineral wealth was not nearly depleted as the humans once thought.
Opening those milky white eyes, the Harpy tilted her head and answered, "The daughters will return when they return."
"If they have not been shot down like our scouting birds," Korrak finally rumbled.
The harpy tittered sharply, claws clicking against stone, "Any Snowblind Ambusher could fare better than some enchanted game."
Lauga chose that moment to pounce, "Concurring, the Snowblind suit the task, and," enchanted eyes shimmering in the low cave light and spied naught but stone and grass. "No sign of army approaching."
Frostbite waved her paw, "See, it is good, humans could not find us if we pissed a trail for them. No," The silver furred Gnoll slashed her paw, "The real fear is the Orcs coming back before we're done."
That drew an ominous rumble from the crowd, even the guards and advisors seemed irked, hackles raised, feathers flared and tongues clicked.
Lauga perked up, eager to please, "Pack-Leader Grimtooth and other Valley Leaders can repel Frostwolves."
The Gnoll snapped her jaws together, "Frostwolves are a problem, an old one now, and with new friends maybe a bigger one but they are not the problem yet.
Lauga did not like where this was going.
Frostbite pressed on, "Hear tell that your king takes in orcs too, no? What if he takes in Frostwolves, do they come before we?"
'Winterax told her, but is this a test, or was I set up for fall!?' Claws tapping along stone, Lauga answered as best they could. "Only local orcs, few at that, Frostwolves rejected Speakers."
"They did," Tuned in the High Mother of the Harpy, "But that can change, there are many orcs, more than us I am thinking."
A low shallow breath escaped Lauga, but they pressed on before Sivvle could add to the pressure. "True, but precedent remains. This war began for Frostmane lands, think we would betray deals of honor on convenience?" Lauga shook their head, tail thumping against stone, "Voice of Frost King, chosen to speak his truth, Lauga's promises are his promises."
Korrak chuckled, "You and yours have gone far for the Frostmane, that is true..." The troll's beady eyes squinted and his ears twitched.
A moment later, a harpy in simpler, lighter armors then her mother entered the cave, "Honored Mother Reine, we return with news."
Reine smiled, pointed fangs flashing in the dim cave, "Speak of what you and your sisters saw, tell us of the human armies."
The scout bowed her head, before falling into a more lax stance, talon feet scuffing the magically shaped stone floor, as she unconsciously eyed Korrak's looming frame. "My sisters and I flew through cloud cover and high mountain peaks. We found the humans across the river, North East, straight flight."
A talon-ed hand toyed with jeweled necklace that began to shimmer and shine as she passed it to the larger Harpy. "We sealed their reflection into this gem, so you can see their camp as we did."
"Excellent," Reine murmured, holding it between dark nails, a thoughtful expression on her face, "Large but not so large."
The scout pressed on as the opal was passed to Sivvle, "We were told to spy insignia and symbols, yes?"
Korrak and Lauga nodded, the latter adding, "Human heraldries, can tell much."
She nodded, "Mixed camp, green and blue tents, golden lions and hooked blades."
"An anchor, like for a ship," Korrak rumbled, possibly the only one present besides Lauga who had seafaring experience. "That means Kul'Tiras and I think Stormwind, lions are their totems.
The jewel was finally passed to Lauga who squinted at the pristine beauty. Like a snow globe polished to mirror shine, the reflections it captured showed camps of with two large green and blue tents surrounded by a host of smaller, paler fair.
"More than us," Sivvle noted quickly.
"We have the high ground," Countered Reine.
"And," Korrak cut in ominously, "we have Bru'kan of the Elements," the thought of the aging, ferocious troll and his mighty twin axes of ice and snow sparked something in the gathered speaker.
Lauga pounced on the silent moment, "Many mighty Whitewhisker Geomancer and Digger, with many more too."
"If they take the bait," Korrak noted carefully.
Frostbite giggled, "If they don't, we harass and hinder, raid and retreat, no?"
Lauga nodded, "Yes, any aid will warrant Frost King Malakk's gratitude, and this is of low risk."
Reine's feathers flared for a moment, "Easy to say when it is not yours who will be fighting and dying, and this plan relies on much trust, not just of you but between us."
Korrak folded his arms, "Let the first to break their word be devoured by the their kinsmen or their people by those that they betrayed."
Frostbite let out a keening noise, "Whitewhisker and Snowblind always friends anyway, only we need fear betrayal from within."
All eyes began turning to Lauga who sucked in a breath and took to their paws. "If it pleases Speakers, honor guards and Lauga can lead charge."
Something subtle flowed across the crowd and finally, a small chest was opened, revealing a collection of powdered squares in an array of colors.
"Kudiri?" Lauga asked, eyeing the substance as Korrak passed out a single piece to each Speaker, "You trade it?"
Low lighter echoed, "What I said is truth, Kudiri is something to trade for, not trade away."
Frostbite bit into the strange, doughy substance, "But gifts are fine."
Reine nodded, "It sooths the mind, it is tradition to take a piece before resolving a dispute," She then tossed back her own peace as did Sivvle and Korrak.
Breathing in the scene, it seemed almost plain, but as the powder touched their tongue and began to bubble and pop, sweetness flowing into their maw, Lauga swallowed. It did not take long to have an effect, muscles eased and tingled pleasantly, the darkness of the cave became subtly fuzzy and a sense of wellness and fullness flowed throughout.
Korrak's voice cut through the malaise, "So, how shall we proceed?"
Caer Darrow had been quiet as the grave for days, all those who struck against the Drakkari Empire laying asleep within the Barov's basement where once the Drakkari Legions had hid, only to be awakened on wars end. Now, the disciplined Gundraki Legions and the Barov's had truly held the fortified peninsula town, minds consumed either duty or worry for lost family.
Gal'darah had done what he could to reassure the Barov's of their dear Jandice's safety, but such worries did tend to go beyond what rationality could assuage and their faith in the Frost King was still un-tested.
'Speaking of faith,' he thought wryly as Caer Darrow quaked and rumbled at the strike of cannon fire against its walls.
Alexi and Illucia scurried behind him, hands on stave and swords as they stared out from a fortified watch post atop their home, cursing at the marshalling vessels surrounding the peninsula, reinforcing the army stationed at the beach.
"Gun-Boats, they brought damned gun-boats, of course they bloody well did!" Barov cursed.
Illucia looked to the tome hanging from her hip warily, "The wards are strong and the Gundraki barriers should hold?" She asked, her tone growing high and unsure in that manner humans did when they were confused.
"Fret not, noble allies," Gal'darah answered, saluting their new foes with his Saronite tipped spear. "You are under the protection of the finest Zul'Drak has to offer, this enemy shall not merely be withstood but routed!"
"Routed?" Alexi gasped, "They outnumber your forces three to one, not counting for the gun-boats-" the island quaked, "Battering at my walls!"
Illucia stared out to sea and grimaced, "How do you intend to defeat them when your forces are, are…"
"Dancing!?" Alexi groused.
Down in the wide village square, atop homes and on the barricades, trolls danced, made offerings, and performed the rights of the faithful. Gal'darah could feel the flow of the world shifting, he suspected Illucia could to but did not yet understand its majesty.
Smirking he said, "We do far more than dance, noble Alexi, I assure you of that."
The man's hands twitched on his sword, paranoia nearly giving way to betrayal before he caught himself.
"Wise decision," He chuckled.
Teeth grinding, the human snapped, "What is your plan? We have risked everything on this, lost our daughter and you simply make grand promises?"
"I do not merely make grand promises," Gal'darah lectured, as if speaking to a young student, impetuous of mind but arrogant in tongue. "I am telling you to keep your faith in our Frost King."
"Faith will garner one a pat on the head from a priest," Alexi spat.
"An honor indeed," Gal'darah chuckled, ruffling the man's hair, and leaving him so stunned he did not even react to it.
"Now then, I must go speak with my foe, if you will excuse me?"
Not waiting for an answer, he leapt from the battlements and raced through the small, but dense and wealthy town to leap into the air and land upon the grand, blocky gate that faced the sole road to the mainland.
Brushing back his pink mohawk and pulling a runic wand from his belt, he span the enchanted idol in his fingers, divine energies suffusing its being he brought it to his mouth and let his voice boom across the divide between he and the amassing military camp along the coast and rocky mountains.
"Hail to thee, warriors, know that you speak to Gal'darah, High Prophet of Akali, Grand Prophet of Zul'Drak, confidant of his imperial majesty Frost King Malakk and commander of the elite, Gundraki Legions! To whom do I speak as a fellow commander!?"
The air seemed to shift and waver as a man suffused with light strode only part of the way down the long path, guards at his side. He raised his hammer and in a distant but still booming voice, he answered, "I am Tirion Fordring, lord of Hearthglen, Paladin defender of Lordaeron and loyal servant of this lands true monarch and royal family! Surrender now and you will be treated honorably!"
Gal'Darah answered airily. "I believe you are trying to offer me mercy where none is needed, but even if it were, I would refuse you. For I have seen the camps, I know this mercy and it is a cruel kindness indeed."
He placed a foot on the raised battlements and added, "You have marshalled quite a force here, larger even than I expected, but it shall not be enough. Soldiers, knights, mages, and paladins, lay down your arms, return to your homes and families. Live in peace with us as neighbors or accept Frost King Malak as your monarch and be equals in the mightiest empire of this age, the Drakkari Empire!"
The Paladin's answer was immediate, a glowing hammer hurtled towards his face but swerved upwards in time to just skim the barrier before hurtling back to the Paladin who caught it and roared. "Lordaeron shall never surrender to the likes of you!"
"Your queen already has," he answered in a perfectly level tone, before leaping from the battlements and back into the town proper.
The Alliance's answer was angry hollering from the soldiers and the paladin turning his back to him, marching away, cape billowing in the wind.
Pocketing his amplification idol, Gal'darah grasped his spear and with a hefty grunt embedded it into the ground before the town gates, before turning to address his fellows.
"They have spat upon Frost King Malakk's mercy, commence the ritual!"
Tirion frowned in consideration, mind mulling over the exchange as his guards spoke at his back.
"To think that woman sold us down the river."
"You think she did so without being tortured or tricked by some magic?!?"
"Rumors from capital escapees say she is the damn monster kings consort now."
"Enough," Tirion said, "I will not stand by and let you impugn the queen mothers honor without proof, besides," he looked over his shoulder, "We have other matters to attend to."
"Milord?"
"The trolls are planning something, and we took more from the front than I would like. We shall not wait them out any longer, nor shall we await reinforcement from the South. We shall break open the gates and retake Caer Darrow. Now!"
_____________________________________________________
NOTES:
The song sung by Hala'Zhi was basically a quick spin on the To the Void Shante which has been running loops in my head for two days. I also really wanted to give Hala'Zhi and their role as a War Priest some focus so I hope that worked as intended. Zeb'Antu roughly translates to (Forest Overseers). I picked it because I decided Zul'Rogg and company were among the Nomadic tribes, whether by choice or not is up in the air, but they watch over the woods all the same.
Kudiri is based on or a direct reference to an Alt History Australia novel where that is a highly prized export that has a similar effect. One thing I decided to go with the Valley dwellers is that they've avoided some of the worst stuff met by their kindred on two continents (or had until canon) and that while the area wasn't large it was fairly rich in resources and otherwise comfortable. Their relationships are reflective of this, they may be rivals, but they aren't blood enemies who kill each other on sight, so they have shared traditions and such too.
In the earlier drafts the Valley Dwellers and even the localized recruits played no role but in expanding on this section of story and others I could weave them in naturally and address some other factors like the Tirasi forces I mentioned and what Sormwind is contributing. I also needed to address what Grom had been up to so this chapter was very convenient. Also Lauga is based on Laura, IE X-23 from Marvel comics, cos there was a Wolvar named Lohgan or the like and I thought this would be fun. Also I renamed Snivvle to Sivvle because why wouldn't I?
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The Winter War - Part 13:The Dance of Death
The Winter War - Part 13: The Dance of Death
Kassan's chest was heaving, deep bruises making every breath a labor, but he hefted his crackling mace up all the same and marched towards the fallen experiment.
Its stretched skin and mangled scales all the more horrifying for the blood that now marred its broken frame. A strangled, almost human hand tried to bar his progress as the experiment gasped and gagged, "Made... Me... Want... Home..."
"This was the only home for things like you," He muttered, before letting loose a single sharp strike that crashed against the broken monster's face and exploded in a flash of lightning, incinerating everything from the neck up.
"This floor is clear, now-"
Choked cries rang out from behind him and Kassan swerved to see the new threat.
Only to find his surviving escorts falling to the floor and a sharp, twangy voice whispering in his ear.
"That was a merciless execution."
Kassan flung his lightning infused mace over his shoulder and let loose a blast of arcane might upon whoever dared sneak up on him.
'Where will they come-' His eyes widened at the shadow before him and he leapt back just in time to see a lean, white haired troll land where he had been standing. Leathers on their frame, and sparkling daggers in hand they blurred forward faster than he could see, and a painful coldness bloomed in his throat.
Kassan could scarcely glance at the blade impaling his neck before the troll whispered, "Sorry, we're in a hurry," and ripped it free.
His last sight was the fallen experiment which he joined on the cold, stone floors and then... Nothing.
Moorabi brushed back a few strands of his pale white mohawk and turned to his forces and said, "Casters, reinforce the defenses, Word Priests, ward against intrudes! Everyone else, fan out and guard against any remaining enemies. Let no one approach this floor, be they mage or monster!"
Fists slapped against chests and they raced to tend to their tasks.
Shamans, Priests and Arcanists of troll, Wolvar, Nerubian and Taunka birth standing side by side. Writhing energy flowing from their hands in a shining display of power as runes began to grow from dim to glowing brightly. Word Priests dragged glittering powder along the outer walls and windows, mangled words spilling from their lips as the symbols began to throb and pulse with an unnatural power.
A War Bands worth of Battle Priests, warriors, Hunters, and skillful scouts scattered across the heart of the chamber and surrounding hallways as Moorabi raced passed them and down the cramped the steps.
He let out a wild hoot at his return to the ground floor; things were growing crowded and loud. The sounds of battle outside had dimmed, and the attention of the mages turned to reclaiming their fallen prison.
Already casters, archers and cannoneers marshalled at the windows and doorways. Of particular note were the mocking calls of Pai Stormbringer, lightning spilling from her staff as she shouted. "Tell me now, that this field of study is worthless!"
'Well at least someone is having fun,' Moorabi mused, understanding well the desire to settle old grudges.
But as a leader he had more important matters to tend to, like his liege. Presiding over the defenses was Malakk, standing tall and proud at the entryway he roared orders and fierce challenges to their foes while the Legions hastened to secure their gains.
Frost Weavers raising icy barricades on the gardens, under the protection of the Water Binders Elementals. Savage warriors brushed shoulders with fierce Invaders, each falling in behind mighty Earthshakers that had to crawl to escape the structure were marshalling in a mighty perimeter around their claimed fort.
Fire Weavers, Oracles and Frost Wardens were raining down high flying spells from behind the warriors backs, matching those flung by the marshalling mages who were surrounding the Hold. Shamans and Priests were scattered across the chamber under the guards of Lancers, ready and waiting to heals, or gathering intelligence through the whispers of god and spirit alike.
Moorabi marched to Malakk's side and did not even need to announce himself before his king turned to face him, subtle relief playing on sharp features. Saluting, Mooradi said, "The final chamber is secure, where do you need me?"
Malakk's gaze met his own and the fierce warrior clapped him on the shoulder, "I need you on the South-West Gates. One of their Arch Magi has circled around to hit us from behind, while the other two remain at our front, marshalling their strength."
"Only three? Arctikus must be keeping them busy," he chuckled.
"Indeed, though they may suspect more cunning plays on our part and so want to avoid walking into a trap," Malakk said, before lobbing a potion over the icy fortification that was struck by a spell from one of the Magus's, only to explode in a blinding flash of light!
"Cunning tricks from us?" Moorabi sang, "How could they think such a thing?" They laughed as he drew his frosty daggers. Saluting, and gliding the blades across the backs of his wrists, "I swear on my honor as Prophet and as one of your chosen, I shall die before even one gets through."
Malakk stared at him intently and spoke, "As your king, I am honored by your devotion; as your friend, I ask you to be careful."
"Always!" Moorabi laughed, as he flipped between a war band of soldiers and ran to his post, daggers trailing behind him and shining sparling white tinged rainbows of magic.
Soon enough he was greeted by a steep drop into a stone courtyard. Alleyways on either side blocked off by now crumbling walls as mages blasted against the magically reinforced stonework and soldiers bellowed out commands. On nearby roof tops he could see archers and gunners perched and waiting to strike.
His own forces conjured defensive barriers and raised their shields in preparation for what was to come.
He nudged the nearest commander, "Spread the word, the barrier will be breached eventually, so be ready to fall back inside, it is more defensible, but make it sting. I will guard the retreat, and," he glanced at the nearby rooftops. "Send word to those up top, the moment the barrier breaks I want the Loa's wrath and arcane fury reigning down on those archers."
"It will be done, Prophet Moorabi!"
Turning his gaze towards the crumbling walls, Moorabi's gaze was guided to a tall, lean magus of advanced ages and a mighty beard. Bedecked in vibrant purple robes touched with gold, riding on a horse and bearing a shining opal stave. His eyes were sharp, expression set in stone and just by looking upon him, Moorabi could sense his power.
'Mam'toth, I pray to thee, give me the fortitude to see this through.'
Shattering stone echoed in Malakk's ears as another blast bomb of fire magic crashed against the Violet Hold, sprinkling them with cracked tiles and dust.
"Frost Wardens, Arcanists, reinforce the ceiling, I don't want this place falling on our heads!"
A percussive boom rang out and he could feel the barrier between he and the outside world thinning, letting a steel mortar shells through.
Bith'sa blurred in front of him, runic stone shield resounding like a gong as it was struck, nullifying the fires, and bouncing the large steel 'bullet into the air.
Kutube'sa, slammed a hand on her back and vaulted into the air, kicking the weapon back out and directly into a second shot. Both metal bullet met with a bang in the courtyard, shrapnel scattered over the broken ice and ruined gates.
Another roaring ball of flame echoed on the air and a shout rang out, "Now!"
The Shamans struck the earth, the streets outside exploded into a hailstorm of rubble and shouts.
The fireball writhed and began to burst, the explosion being forced into the air in a last desperate gambit, but not before its expanding wave of flames washed over nearby towers.
'Dammit, a city is no place for this fighting!'
"Ixit can you disrupt their joint casting!?"
"I cannot," Clicked the Nerubian. "These are members of the Council of Six, too strong, even for we to undermine so openly.
'Dammit, I wanted them on the defensive, but so many here and another at our back door-'
As if summoned like a curse, he heard an explosion from the back of the Hold that shook the halls.
'Dammit what now!?'
He swallowed a gasp as Zerat's energies writhed in the blade, sending arching pang and angry thorns through his essence before his will alone drove the malevolent power back.
"I need a report!"
Malakk watched the streets outside and scowled at the sight of the hard to glimpse Arch Magi casting again. This time crafting a small blast bomb of mana and if his eyes did not deceive him, using their partner to stabilize it while their servants lobbed smaller spells at their defenses as knights knelt before them, shields at the ready.
'Organized and quickly adaptive, Dalaran is not the city of distracted scholars we were led to believe.'
A soldier burst into the main hall, "The rear walls have fallen, their knights advance on us as mages provide covering fire, but Prophet Moorabi plans to hold them at bay!"
"Alone!?" Malakk snarled, barely resisting the urge to race to his comrades' side.
"Yes, Frost King Malakk, he wants his forces bracing for the raid on the Hold!"
Ixit leaned in, "The Hold can withstand more than the outer walls, we can hold them for some time now that we know what to expect."
Malakk hissed, "… I will trust my prophet's judgement, but be ready to aid him should the enemy have tricks up their sleeves!"
"As you command, Frost King Malakk!"
Another blazing ball of fire struck the stone walls and heat washed over his frame, but nothing cracked or rumbled, 'Did they lose power or did our counter spells work?'
His expression remained dour, his mind whirling, 'Moorabi is swift, strong and sturdy, he will not be struck easily, I must have faith in him.'
His grip on Zerat tightened and the swords baleful spirit grew quiet as his mind became focused on the next approaching fireball.
'We just have to hold out a little longer.'
Upon the walls of Durnholde and across the fields of Hillsbrad things looked peaceful enough. But the scent of smoke and the sight of an approaching columns of soldiers would give lie to such a thought.
"This plan of yours had best work, cousin," Blackmoore groused from atop the battlements.
"We may not have had time to call much in the way of reinforcements," Beve conceded as she looked through a spyglass and towards the approaching army. Her focus falling entirely upon Richelle at the forefront in her guise as a messanger. "But we have raiders in the woods, a fort and the element of surprise."
"And you would throw away your pets' life on this plan?" Blackmoore chuckled, "Well that should not be a surprise I suppose."
Steeling herself with a sharp breath, Beve answered, "If anyone can survive a hailstorm of cannon fire it's my honor guard."
Blackmoore scoffed, leaning over the parapets, mumbling, "We could lure them in closer with open gates, I could cut down Trollbane personally then…"
"As pleasurable a sight as that would be, those Dwarven mortar teams would not let the gates close again," Beve answered. Such a shame too, the idea of seeing Thoras fall and then leaving her cousin to be overwhelmed from such a plan was a pleasant one. But then the fort would still be standing, in enemy hands no less.
'And that cannot be allowed,' she thought, eyeing the swelled ranks of Arathi and Ironforge soldiers, spreading out over the ever-widening road and falling into cannon range
"I will tend to the long-range cannons," She said simply, turning and blinking from the battlements to the ground levels where several long cannons were pointed up towards the skies. Robes flicking with her every motion she cast a simple feather weight charm on the canons balls as she went.
Her gaze half fell upon the orcs below who were watching the proceedings with obvious interest and fear. Glancing over her shoulder to the gates where a smattering of them had been armed and huddled around one who Blackmoore insisted would lead them to victory despite his obvious youth and terror.
'Whatever happens, if the gate breaks, they will be the first to fight… Provided they do not do the wise thing and run.'
The silent tension holding Durnholde as a noose grasped a neck was broken by Thoras Trollbane's rough, familiar voice booming over the walls.
"Aedelas Blackmoore, it has been some time!"
He did not sound overly pleased to say the least, Beve thought and her cousin clearly reciprocated.
"Not since I was appointed to my position, King Trollbane, I recall much malignance on the matter,," Blackmoore groused.
'He's still hung over, pathetic.'
"To think those would-be better days," Thoras answered, making a bare minimum of effort to be polite where her cousin was making none. "Now, tell me what transpired here!?"
"What transpired across Lordaeron, King Trollbane, Trolls and their agents! They struck quickly and without mercy," Blackmoore raised his hands high, "They struck by surprise and with-"
"FIRE!"
Soldiers shouted and Beve's senses were bombarded by bursts of fire and explosive sound. From atop the walls and cannon peep holes they opened fire. From atop watch towers and on the grounds, the cannons burst to life and launched their searing payload into the skies.
Beve blinked through the gates and arrived just in time to see soldiers steel shattered and bodies split, ruined like mince across the road and grass. Horses brayed and shrieked, some bucking their riders off as mages raised desperate barrier and knights shouted for order among the screaming chaos
Her gaze fell upon Richelle, not far from the front of the gates as her guard flung herself from her horse and slashed Trollbane's nearest guard's throat; then barely weaved out of the way of a blow from Thoras.
"Traitors!" He howled.
Letting loose an arcane missile on Thoras's side, Beve smirked as Richelle capitalized on that moment to strike him with her shield and launched him down the cobblestone path as another round of cannon fire rang out.
Burning steel balls crashed against hastily barriers, the magic and Light straining and flashing, some held firm while others shattered and the cannon balls crashed against bracing soldiers, sending some to the ground with pained shrieks.
Richelle raced towards Thoras only to leap back and scream, shield clanging as a hammer slammed against it and launched her back towards the gates.
"Blasted traitors!" a finely armored Dwarf yelled, his body cloaked in shining metal; a cannon ball aimed at Thoras was interrupted by the Dwarven Prince who leapt in front of the man, taking the blow with ease as the steel ball shattered against his skin.
Blinking to Richelle's side Beve fumbled for a moment as the warrior cried, "Princess, you have to run!"
Ignoring her guard's pleas, she grasped Richelle's broken arm, watching wide eyed as the Dwarf's blurred towards them like lightning. Magic suffused her being, terror and need coalesced and with a heave.
They vanished.
And reappeared with gut wrenching gasps behind the gates.
The Orcs were beginning to shout, and the Dwarf crashed against the magically reinforce gates, warping the steel and shattering wood in a hail of splinters.
"Fire on him!" Blackmoore howled. His voice drowned out by the ever-increasing wave of cannon fire.
Rising to her feet, Beve leveled her stave at the gate, arcing purple lights flashing from its crystal tip and weaving their way into the gate just in time to bear the brunt of another strike that ripped every last drop of power from her spell.
'He's a monster!'
Through the grating she could see the mortar teams returning fire and professional ranks forming in sharp succession, troops already moving to reinforce the Dwarven prince.
"Aim the long rage cannons at the gate, we can make it a choke point!" Blackmoore barked.
"We need your Wardens reinforcing the gate, now!" Beve countered.
"No, I want mages on the walls!" Blackmoore hollered.
"Mistress," Richelle whispered.
"I know, but we can't leave," Beve answered, not yet they couldn't, "Guard me while I cast."
"As you will," Richelle answered, rising to her feet and broken arm hanging limp she stood with blade raised as fire danced at Beve's fingers, sweat staining her brow.
Another calamitous clang rang out and with a final roar the steel Dwarf exploded through the gate.
Beve thrust her hands out, snarling as the spell-flames scorched her skin and her will was answered when a massive gout of fire exploded at the Dwarve's feet and with that one mighty flame strike he was launched out of the keep.
Sighing in relief she barely saw Throas thrashing and slashing at the Orcs who gave into their renewed bloodlust and charged out through the wound in the gate to attack. Those that remained behind howling "Lok'Tar!" in time with their kin.
Cannon fire continued to roar, but the growing din outside told Beve the army was pushing through despite it.
'They want to save their leader, or they're just desperate, doesn't matter which.'
"Wardens to me!" She roared and was finally rewarded with a handful of staff wielding arcanists racing to her side, "Join your spells with mine and raise a barrier at the gate!"
She could see Thoras and the Dwarf through the cracks as they began marshalling their elite forces, both men now flesh and blood, obviously wounded but damnably alive.
Another stream of arcane energy flew from her hand and was soon joined by half a dozen others, making it swell and writhe. Above them Blackmoore howled with laughter, letting loose crossbow bolts at Thoras and his Dwarf savior.
"Does he not see the fucking army coming at us!?" Snapped one of the Mages.
"If they break through, retreat over the bridge and blast out its foundations, that will buy is time," Richelle ordered.
"Time for what? They can just surround us and reign down mortar fire!"
"Time to retreat to the tower before our reinforcements arrive," Beve hissed.
"Will they be enough?"
Beve tensed as a mortar shot crashed against the walls and flimsy barriers Blackmoore's servants had raised along the walls, the force of it sending her cousin to his knees with a cry.
"If not, they will give us enough time to escape," Beve finally answered, drawing surprised stares from the Wardens. She motioned to her cousin with a sharp nod, "Unless you fancy your chances with him."
Their response was silence as they focused their energies on the gate.
"Lord Falconcrest, the army is advancing on Durnholde!" Baron Vardus hissed
"And it will continue to advance," He answered, happily twirling a dagger in his hand, "At least until enough of their forces are inside that our surprise attack will not be too costly."
"But what about the princess?"
He scoffed at that, "Perenolde and his brood have bungled much of this operation, she knew the risks; now get word to the other cells, I don't want anyone moving without my say so." His bodyguard took that moment to loom over the older man who turned away.
"… Yes, Lord Falconcrest."
Watching him go, the lord turned his attention back to the distant battle, and smiled.
It had taken time, patience and no small number of bodies and betrayals but he was on the cusp be becoming king.
'I just have to wait a little longer.'
The walls had crumbled, and soldiers were reigning down from the streets into the courtyard, racing towards them, "Reinforce our defenses and hold fast, we cannot lose this fort!" Moorabi raced forward, daggers drawn.
Bursting into the fray with white gleaming blade, Moorabi vaulted into the air, "You face the High Prophet of Mam'toth this day!" The divine shout stunning the regular platoons but not their leader who raced to meet him.
Clashing his blades against a golden armored Paladin's hammer, Moorabi vaulted over the man's defiant shout and landed behind him.
In one sharp motion and a single deep breath he reared around to see their hammer swinging and he bellowed a mammoth's cry. The shockwave hit the air and launched the warrior through a wall, crumbling a domed guard station atop him.
Howling soldiers charged him from behind.
Spinning, Moorabi slashed the long spear aside and, cutting an approaching swordsman's neck in the same motion.
Another jab from the side was weaved around, letting him slam the spear's side into his attacker knocking them down before slamming his fist into the spearmen, denting steel, and launching them into the roaring crowd.
Soldiers swarmed around him, even as spears, spells, spiked daggers and arrows hurtled towards them from the fort, but through it all he fought.
Icy spells and bullets at the fore front were cut from the air before he flipped over twin coordinated spear strikes. Mam'toth's power suffused him when he struck the earth and unleashed a tremor, cracking stone causeways and driving the delicate to the ground as the rest staggered or died as they became clear targets.
"Surrender now and be spared my wrath!" He cheered, even as he raced forward at the fastest rallying soldier whose blade slash he contorted around. Delivering a fierce kick to their side and sending them crashing into a dented metal heap against a charging comrade.
Fierce cries of denial met his offer and Moorabi side-stepped around a spell strike, taking off the offender's head in one motion. He contorted passed a backstabbing spear and drove his blade into the helmet's eye slit.
Bullet shots rang out and he ducked low as more soldiers raced in, he slammed his hand onto the ground and flipped over the duo that did not turn around in time before his blade cut through their armor in one blurred strike.
With the speed of a stampeding mammoth he crashed into a marshalling crowd, letting minor nicks land upon his frame that he could launched the soldiers into the air, their bodies clanking and screeching as they struck stone streets.
Spinning around deadly spells he twirled twin daggers and let them fly into his attackers, killing one and launching the other to the ground.
The paladin burst from the ruined house, stained with blood, and shining as they bellowed a shout and charged him, dragging their cracked hammer behind them.
"Such valor!" He cheered, dagger re-materializing in his hands he met the weapon fairly and openly with a crash before disarming the paladin with a swift sweep of his feet. The act was answered with a burst of light he dodged by throwing himself to his back and then driving both feet into the warrior's chest, launching them back into the rubble.
A desperate shout struck his ears and Moorabi rolled aside of the halberd strike before beheading his attacker.
Rolling to his feet, he roared, "Come now, is it custom to send only normal soldiers against a champion of the gods!?"
Crystal singing filled his ears for but a moment before crackling ice encased his blade, dragging it back and binding it to the now freezing ground. The skies whirled with howling blue lights and from them rained jagged icicles.
One blade in hand, Moorabi let loose a roar that dispersed but a few icey blades as he struck and slashed his way through the rest, guarding his head and heart above all else. Even as more and more of the brutal daggers ripped into his body, forcing his breath out in hissing mist.
With a surge of strength, he ripped his arm free, fur and skin tore but already healing as he spiraled around, slashing, and striking his way through the blizzard as a voice called.
"You see Antonidas, only fire will kill them!"
'Antonidas!?'
Them the ground exploded in a wave of fire and melting stone.
Burning pained lanced across his skin, tearing away at it as Moorabi was launched across the battlefield and before he could even pull himself to his feet a spell swirled around him, slowing, and dulling his movements.
The flames slowed too, but they did not stop growing, encompassing his being as he strained against the arcane bonds that held him, shrieks of pain echoing, even as Mam'toth's power suffused him, mending as quickly as the fire took, his eyes blind and boiling in his skull, senses muddled by pain, but he could not stop a mad cackle.
"You Mages know how to make it hurt!" With a burst of power ripping its way through his body the enchantment was cast off and he roared towards the old mage on the horse. His steps staggered but powerful, he cheered and crashed against the man's arcane shield, daggers desperately carving at the magic when a familiar roar hit his ears.
'The soldiers! I could not see them!'
A spear ran through his spine and his blades slipped from his grasp, as magic and might forced him low, Antondias's flames joining his allies as more spears impaled his screeching form.
The Archmages voice rose above the din, "He is their prophet, force him down and capture him!"
As soldiers tried to drag him down, a ragged rasping laugh escaped bubbling lips, "Only one man can bid me kneel..."
A final burst of strength suffusing his muscles that swelled passed peeling skin, he roared, flinging the soldiers off of him.
"Just die!" Someone howled, the flames growing ever more intense!
'To Die to arch magi is not a bad way for one to go,' he thought, bones shaking and skin bursting; with charred arms, he embraced himself, fingers piercing his sides and heart.
'Forgive me, my king, my friend... My-'
Moorabi threw his head back and howled, "I will die! But in my gods embrace, I will not die alone!"
Mam'toth bellowed in his soul and his chest swelled, cracking the spears, and shattering his ribs.
"Fall back!"
"No contain it!"
Through bubbling lips and searing fire, he cheered in exalted pride as his heart burst.
"FOR ZUL'DRAK!"
_____________________________
NOTES:
Well.... That happened, I hope I did a sufficient job with Moorabi for his death to have meaning. As noted previously, breaking up the collective 12 thousand or so words of this story segment is tricky, but this felt like a natural end point; how well it carries forward is less clear.
I originally planned to call this the Duel for Dalaran, but putting that whole segment into one chapter proved too much and would skew the pacing of other events, thus we have what we have here. Also, I took some advice and decided to hint that Falconcrest had a hand in some things but I am keeping it vague.
The fight scenes for this chapter were a real challenge, especially trying to show the difference between even skilled troops and someone like Moorabi, while also making it clear just how damn dangerous the likes of the Kirin Tor are. Also sorry to those who wanted the dragon hybrid to join the Drakkari, its death was long planned though
Arcane Howitzer
Serial Arcanist
- Location
- United States
Malakk: "Be Careful."
Moorabi: "Imma punch that archmage in the face."
"Moorabi no."
"Moorabi yes!"
Moorabi: "Imma punch that archmage in the face."
"Moorabi no."
"Moorabi yes!"
Pfft, this made me cackle, thanks XD and yeah, Moorabi is something of a wild man... Well, was.
Has anyone ever poured way more time and energy into answering a question is absolutely the wrong way?
Cos that's what I spent some time doing this morning when trying to determine the exact size of Mam'toth's blast zone from canon. Oh yeah for anyone uninitiated, Moorabi being the one to self destruct doubles as an Easter egg cos in Wrath of the Lich King, Mam'toth self destructed.
My methods were very scientific, I knew Gundrak (The Temple city capital of Zul'Drak) was comparable to Dalaran, so I layered two maps on top of each other, erased everything but the crater Mam'toth from one and overlaid it on Gundrak.
Fun trivia, if Mam'toth had done that there, only the outer most towers of Gundrak would even still exist and it would be in a ruined state, fun!
Anyway, I wanted to be more precise so I ended up importing two maps of Zul'Drak over the top of old Hillsbrad so I could measure Gundrak and thus the explosion against the size of the Dalaran dome as that's essentially what the Drakkari are fighting under.
Gundred looks a but smaller, more like two thirds as big over an equal, but due to its size and nature its population is similar/greater. Anyway, then once Gundrak was overlaid on top I did the crater, then took several different example pics and...
You can probably guess it was only then that my brain caught up and realized I could just put the crater over top the Dalaran.
XD
Sorry for the low resolution.
Now, obviously that's not an exact translation of what Moorabi just did, he's a powerful Prophet but he's not the Loa's avatar blowing up and he doesn't exactly wanna kill tons of civilians or his own people in this blast.
But still, that should give a good sense of scale for some divine retribution in canon even if this one will likely be smaller scale and more strategically directed towards helping the Drakkari win this conflict over just 'boom'.
Anyway that's how I wasted nearly thirty minutes XD
Cos that's what I spent some time doing this morning when trying to determine the exact size of Mam'toth's blast zone from canon. Oh yeah for anyone uninitiated, Moorabi being the one to self destruct doubles as an Easter egg cos in Wrath of the Lich King, Mam'toth self destructed.
My methods were very scientific, I knew Gundrak (The Temple city capital of Zul'Drak) was comparable to Dalaran, so I layered two maps on top of each other, erased everything but the crater Mam'toth from one and overlaid it on Gundrak.
Fun trivia, if Mam'toth had done that there, only the outer most towers of Gundrak would even still exist and it would be in a ruined state, fun!
Anyway, I wanted to be more precise so I ended up importing two maps of Zul'Drak over the top of old Hillsbrad so I could measure Gundrak and thus the explosion against the size of the Dalaran dome as that's essentially what the Drakkari are fighting under.
Gundred looks a but smaller, more like two thirds as big over an equal, but due to its size and nature its population is similar/greater. Anyway, then once Gundrak was overlaid on top I did the crater, then took several different example pics and...
You can probably guess it was only then that my brain caught up and realized I could just put the crater over top the Dalaran.
XD
Sorry for the low resolution.
Now, obviously that's not an exact translation of what Moorabi just did, he's a powerful Prophet but he's not the Loa's avatar blowing up and he doesn't exactly wanna kill tons of civilians or his own people in this blast.
But still, that should give a good sense of scale for some divine retribution in canon even if this one will likely be smaller scale and more strategically directed towards helping the Drakkari win this conflict over just 'boom'.
Anyway that's how I wasted nearly thirty minutes XD
World Building: Lordaeron's Territories
World Building: Lordaeron's Territories
This post is a brief discussion of Lordaeron's territories post Second War.
This post is a brief discussion of Lordaeron's territories post Second War.
It is a polite fiction that Lordaeron has always been one united and contiguous kingdom. At times it was even called the Holy Empire of Lordaeron before more moderate & peace minded monarchs rolled back imperials ambitions.
As of the end of the Second War, the easiest way to describe territories often associated with Lordaeron would be as such:
There is Old Lordaeron, which has remained fairly consistent and united in culture and faith for over five centuries; it was here the Exergies of the Light was first codified and would go on to become the dominant understanding of the faith, even as regional interpretations would vary. Formed through interconnected marriages, diplomacy and conquest, it was a mighty and martial state that suffused holy ideals into all they did, be it war, farming or politics.
Then we have Eastweld, a land where the summers are long and the sun burning bright; who's people often bare tan skin and pale hair. The great mountains that nearly cleave the land intwain made it difficult for one sole nation to form, as did the influence of the waning Amani Empire and then the High Elves, let alone internal factionalism. It was ultimately this state of affairs that allowed the then Holy Lordaeron Empire to conquer the territory little less than a hundred years ago; after having negotiated neutrality from the Elves and striking during a famine. The war was brutal, and the resistance fierce.
So much so that even when conquered, Eastweld retained influence enough that Lordaeron's Kings would nearly always choose a bride from the East, of whom Queen Lianne is the most recent example. The sheer savagery of the empires legions, most of all at the Siege of Old Stratholme, and its stark contrast to the preaching of the Light is what eventually led to the dissolution of the idea of an empire and a scaling back of imperial ambitions. The people of Eastweld would embrace the Church of the Holy Light and many would rise to great esteem in its ranks; despite this near century long unity however, there are still some lingering nativist sentiments among the people.
Finally there is Hillsbrad, ironically, this land was rarely under the direct control of Lordaeron save the North-East settlements like Tarren Mill. The Northlands beneath Alterac were always occupied by Dalanan who saw little use for the foothills and coastline. This made it prime breeding ground for conflict between Stromgarde, Alterac, Gilneas and Kul'Tiras. Suffice to say the residents got used to changing their flags and noble lines vary between new bloods and old families who can claim heritage in five kingdoms!
Only in the last decade could the land be said to have fallen under Lordaeron's sway in its near entirety, thanks to Stomgarde's waning strengths even before the Second War, Gilneas retreating into isolationism and Alterac's gutting. Kul'Tiras can make a claim to the coast, but having often pillaged those shores during wars, their flag is not always a welcome sight. In many ways, it would be more accurate to claim this land is of the Grand Alliance, than of Lordaeron proper, but such vagaries tend to make people nervous, and thus, Hillsbrad is Lordaeron Sovereignty... Technically.
___________________________________
NOTES:
This is mostly me doing some world building and also trying to make sense of the maps and mixed up lore.
For example, in Tide of Darkness, Hillsbrad is of Lordaeron, but we know not only Dalaran resides there but that Alterac and Stromgarde often feud over territory as though they are neighbors.
Adding to that, during WOW, Southshore is shown to be led by a man from Stormwind and to fly their flag despite not having been hit by the Scourge. Thus I rolled with the idea that Hillsbrad is basically the place people conquer and thus its not really closely tied to any one nation.
The details surrounding Eastweld I have brought up before though be it in less detail, they are partially inspire by the Travelogue, but with my own spin such as the wars being more recent, larger scale and the influence of elves on the region, and the skin tone matter. I have covered it before but as previously noted, several notable figures from Eastweld, or at least heavily tied to it all have pale hair and dark skin, and in WC2 so did Turalyon, so I decided to make it a thing.
I did everything in colors like this and with labels to try and make it easy to understand, I hope it helped and proved interesting!
The Winter War - Part 14: Unstoppable Force
The Winter War - Part 14: Unstoppable Force
The howled cheer of loyalty and defiance struck his ears moments before the explosion echoed on the winds.
The city's foundations shaking as Mam'toth's mournful cry became a gale that deafened the ears and a roiling, writhing spear of light, ripping through the air, launching shrapnel like a blizzard hurled hail.
Malakk's roar tore from his throat, warring against the blasts echo, "Moorabi!"
Only for the sound and fury to fade mere moments later, a cloud of dust and ash cast across the city like morning mist.
Before his stunned foes could react, Malakk loosed potions into the air, voice sharp as a dagger against one's neck, "Tides Surge, unleash!"
With a wide slash of his arm, the ice claws adorning it crashed through the bottles, suffused by the magic within the roiling lake's worth of water was unleashed in one blisteringly cold wave of roaring water.
It crashed against the soldiers, dragging them from the gaping wounds prison's walls, across the charred lawns and frozen moat, to crash upon their charging fellows in the street. The advance broken as as a hundred or more soldiers now lay in tangle heaps or mangled, frozen metal.
"We should fall back to the capital!" Ixit hissed.
"Damn your eyes! We lose this point and we lose everything, hold your ground!" Not waiting another moment, he raced out the entryway. Ignoring his guard's shouts and battering away paltry arrows, he surged into the air, over balconies and towards Moorabi's death site.
What greeted him was ruined earth, shattered buildings, a monstrous crater, and air crackling with lingering energy, marked by writhing mounds of earth and ash.
'The blast... Did hey tried to contain it and redirect it, or Moorabi... Was this your plan?' He wondered even as tears stained his cheeks.
Looking upon the crater, much of the power of that final prayer had travelled Westward in one mighty wave, crashing against Dalaran's defensive barrier and leaving a host of its makers dead along the city's edge.
His knees were shaking, Zerat writhing on his back as Frost and Gale hung heavy in his hands. Only the sounds outside the hollow void slowly encompassing his mind brought him back to reality.
The warriors lay dead where they hadn't been simply vaporized but handfuls of archers and riflemen lived, pulling themselves from collapsing buildings. Two mages materialized, a singed looking elf in red and the human, Malakk recognized him from the gates.
All were moving to congregate around one man in particular, with shouts of "Andontidas!" whose horse lay dead, riddled with a shrapnel of bone, while the man himself could barely stand under his own weight, his staff tip shattered and his robes torn.
At the sight of Moorabi's bones, his last remnants reduced to a weapon in one final act of devotion, any sense Malakk had remaining vanished and he loosed his axes.
As the brunette arch-magi reached the man, Frost and Gale sung as they flew forth and the woman barely brought up a barrier in time. The ensuing wave of icy gales and howling winds scattering soldiers and distracted the Mages.
Malakk crashed down behind the trio and with a violent back hand cracked the brunettes ribs. Sending the magus flying across the heaped earth before they slammed boneless to the floor, unmoving.
Fire was the elves retort, the man cursed him out in Thallassian as a shrieking phoenix clipped Malakk's his side before flying passed to go for another round as their master levelled another spell.
Malakk spun in time with the attack, Word Priests teachings on his lips, suffusing Zerat in warped energies that devoured the elves' spell before it could do harm, then letting him draw then slash Zerat at the summon before it could burn him again.
Rather than turn on the elf or guard his back, Malakk followed through, charred earth sliding beneath his feet he used his free hand to call his twin axes to him and through the elf. The crimson robed magi was distracted for but a moment to defend himself.
It was all Malakk needed as he kicked off from the ground, weathering a blistering arcane strike to his shoulder before crashing the flat head of Zerat against Antonidas's fraying arcane defense.
There was a horrid, thrashing, screech as magic dueled with holy and accursed energies before the mages exhaustion won out and Malakk ran him through in one fell strike. Twisted flames engulfing the man's body in an instant, ensuring there would be no resurrection.
"I will make you scream for that!" The elf howled, fire dancing on his fingertips as his phoenix screeched above.
Malakk drew back with a roar, but felt a distant cry echoing on the winds, a familiar scent filled his senses and he gasped, "Moorabi?"
Mam'toth's power and Moorabi's spirit surrounded his frame in a whirlwind of air, repelling fiery fury as they carried him into the sky. Flying him away from the phoenix and its masters wrath just in time to see hordes of soldiers he had been blind to racing to reinforce the elf.
Landing among his fellows with a swirl of sound and fury, Malakk swallowed his grief, 'I won't fail you again, Moorabi...'
He looked to Bith'Sa and Kutube'sa who fell in at his sides, pain and worry etched in their expressions, as his army watched in wary awe.
He raised Zerat and rejoined the battle-line with a roar, "Hold fast friends, their leaders are falling! We will be victorious this day! For Zul'Drak, for Moorabi!"
In the distance one could almost see Dalaran's barrier begin to fray and crack.
Kael'thas watched the trolls escape with a snarl on his lips, "Damned animal! See if your gods save you from my wrath when next we meet."
His phoenix cawed its last before crumbling into ash and forming into an egg at his feet. 'Stay here, return to me once you have the strength,' He instructed through the mental link.
Looking around he saw soldiers gathering and barked, "Rally your forces and converge on the Hold!"
The soldiers began to muster some sense of order, stepping over the fallen to march on the citadel from which a cavalcade of lights and explosions rang out.
Flicking the dust off his robes, Kael'thas glanced at Madora but shook it off, if she lived her bones were likely dust and she would be unable to help, assuming she lived at all.
"Prince Kael'Thas!" A voice cried from Dragonhawk back, swooping down to his side.
'A Half Elf,' He realized, looking over her familiar armor, and vaguely recalling her name as Finnal… Something...
"Take this message to your commander," He snapped, "We cannot await reinforcements from Ironforge and Arathi, send our defensive magi and encamped forces back into the city to reclaim the Violet Hold now!"
"Prince Kael'thas, we cannot!" She cried.
"What do you mean!? Their number are small and dwindling. We have but to outlast them!"
It was then something crashed against the barrier with a resounding flash of light and seething mana.
Turning his gaze skyward, Kael'thas saw the shadow of a dragoon swooping over the city's defensive dome, a gout of fire escaping its maw before breaking off to join its scattered kindred in the skies above.
His gaze turned to Finnal who saluted, "They marched their Orcs through Silverpine and they've fallen on us from the South-West. They have swarmed over the internment camps and are hitting our marshalled forces and barrier hard!"
His eyes widened, gaze snapping to Madora, "G… Get her to a medic, I will return to the Citadel, convene with the survivors and reinforce the defenses."
The half elf drew back as if slapped at the mention of 'survivors' before swooping down and scooping up the likely dead Madora and ferrying her towards a nearby healing station.
Kael'thas's mind whirled, 'Antonidas is dead, Madora is fallen and if the troll got away from the siege, Drenden must be dead or dying as well!'
Half the Council of Six in one day, it was madness!
Dragons fire crashed against the barrier and Kael'thas surrounded himself in surging arcane energies, teleporting back to the Citadel as the barrier continued to erode.
'We have to fix this! We cannot be defeated by meager trolls!'
Xex'Mon's Legions were swarming across the fields of Hillsbrad.
From his perch on the hill, the wave of his forces swarming against the Alliance's frayed lines looked akin to hordes of insects fighting.
"Dammit, Burx is losing control of his legion, at this rate the camp will burn down in the crossfire," he seethed.
Tossing his Spyglass aside, he rose to his full height and bellowed, "Cannoneers and mounted raiders spread out to bombard and harass the enemy, do not let them organize! Nazgrel!"
"Hail Chieftain!" The Orc barked, his warriors already roaring and waving their weapons as they jostled for position.
"You and your legion shall ride with me; we shall surround the internment camp and divide the enemy ranks further!"
"But the shield!?" Someone shrieked.
"The soldiers are outside the shield, and they are what concern us, organize your ranks, and be ready to charge!"
He raised his hand, waiting not even a whole minute as the stamp of orcish feet began to shake the earth.
In one swift motion he roared, "Forward march!"
Like breaking a floodgate, the Orcs exploded into action, some even knocking kin aside in their mad rush towards the city.
"Drakkari Legionaries, hold tight formations, maintain your defenses and discipline, now march!"
With a single unified chant his personal Legions raced into the battle.
Arctikus bared her fangs in a wide grin as she brought an enchanted idol up to her mouth, "The dragons have arrived, gun boats, pull back, Shamans, make ready!" Her orders echoed and reverberated on the winds to her forces and the response was immediate.
Clapping Barafu on the back she nodded, "You know your duty."
"The defenses shall hold, Great Mother," her companion swore, hand over her heart before she turned her attention back to the coast as another barrage of arcane missiles was be readied by their foes.
That was when a dragon's shriek rang out and Arctikus blinked at the sight of Quetz'Lith's Saronite adorned dragon swooping over the crowd belting flames upon the marshalled mages and warriors who hastened to turn their offensive spells to defensive.
"Fear not dear maidens, for you have friends in high places!" Quetz'Lith cackled.
Barafu and her mages raised their hands high and bursting in shining glory from their palms were pulsating daggers of ice that launched into the air. Quetz'Lith flew around the enemy mages counterattack and with a burst of her drakes' wings soared out of range from the Frostweavers hail of Ice Daggers.
"Magnificent my dear!" she cheered, weaving around a burst of flames from the coastline.
"Fly safely!" Barafu called as her apparent paramour swept around another spell and higher into the air as another wave of drakes came down from both sides to distract the enemy.
Arctikus arched her brow and Barafu chuckled, "What, am I disallowed from romance?'
"No…" Arctikus said slowly, "I just did not imagine someone so rough to be to your tastes for longer than a night."
"As she told me one night, I am full of surprises."
Cackling, Arctikus strode away, waving the younger troll off, "Good for you then!"
She marched two dozen paces back along the ice bridge until she found a break in the marshalled troops who now stood at the read. Shamans lining the outer rims, eyes aglow with power, their words laying atop one another as a powerful din filled the air.
Arctikus roared and with one sharp strike drove her spear into the ice sheet, with a violent, echoing crack the bridge was split and the water of the lake began to seethe and roil with unspent energy.
"Warriors, brace yourselves!"
Aethas_Sunreaver watched warily, staff clutched tightly as the thick sheet of ice bearing trolls split into several massive fragments, as if forming large rafts spread across the lake.
'They mean to attack us with those? Points for ingenuity I…' A strange something niggled at his senses. His ears twitched, but the sound of dragons belching fire upon their fields drowned it out.
"The water lord magi!"
Aethas's eyes snapped down and a gasp ripped from his lips as the waters bubbled and roiled, coiling backwards like a snake rearing to striking the lake heaved and ice sheets began to rise.
"All focus to our defenses, they mean to ram us!"
It was at that moment that another host of dragons descended upon their barriers and the trolls began to chant and cheer as the sound of crashing water roared towards them.
"Hold!"
"Hold!" Arctikus knelt on the ice sheet, clutching her spear tightly as they rode the roiling wave towards the city. Bursts of arcane magic rained down from the city's towers, battering their defenses, leaving her tingling and hissing from the subtle shock, even as it failed to wholly breach.
Wrapping her arm around Barafu, and seeing her warriors support their own magus, Arctikus roared, "Wash over them!" As the waves came crashing down in a cascading blast of force.
Shields strained, seethed, and shattered with the ice as the barrier before them bent and was breached in a burst of purple vibrancy.
The air howled and the world blurred, as Arctikus clutched the magus to her side and crashed into the muddy earth, the sound of warriors shouting as they landed echoing, as metal clanked, and the enemy's magic began to hum.
"Charge!"
She did not pause, pushing Barafu behind her, Arctikus thrust her spear forward and in one swift strike struck through a mage's face. Not slowing for a second she slammed her feet into the muddy ground and heaved; her roar echoing in time with her warriors as they raced to strike. Her spear was torn free and crashed against the charging foot soldiers, sending them flying.
A burst of spell fire shot towards her back, only to flicker and fade as Barufu called, "Magus's, do not let the enemy rally!"
A sharp, baritone rose from the enemy's ranks as a spear of arcane light shot into the air, "Drive these savages form our shores!"
In the distance, Arctikus could hear the roar of the orcish legions and clash of steel.
The Dragons roars boomed across the skies and shook the earth.
Dalaran's Guard Towers crackled and hissed in the air.
The battle for Dalaran would end today.
Durnholde's walls were crumbling down.
Aedelas Blackmoore ran, cuts and bruises lining his frame, making him hiss with every step.
The orcs below were hooting and howling in joy or terror he did not know; some even climbing the walls, but where was Thrall?
Aedelas hadn't seen his slave since their defenses broke and the gate crumbled.
His feet slammed against the stonework bridge that led to his ruined keep and the watch tower, the roar of the army at his back as they tore through barricades and stomped out hastily made fires in their march.
"Blast it!" Beve's voice howled across the din and with the last of his strength Aedelas flung himself from the bridge in time to hear and feel the blazing blast lick at his heels.
Shrapnel rained onto his back as the ground rumbled and the bridge fell into the orc's interment zones, pursuing and escaping soldiers not quick enough screaming as they were dragged to their deaths.
Dirt dug under his nails, and Aedelas staggered to his feet, grasping at his cousin's robes, "Where witch, where are the reinforcements you promised!?"
She looked at him, face too calm for the chaos surrounding them as mortar began to nip at the edges of their tiny island of safety and their few remaining cannons desperately returned fire to keep the enemy at bay.
"It seems," she said delicately, "That Lord Falconcrest hopes I will fall in the confusion and then he will strike, I suppose I should have seen this coming," she shrugged.
"You… You have a way out? That is why you are so calm, yes? An escape, new soldiers, something!?" He asked, words slurring, head swimming in pain.
Her eyes drifted from the tower where his mages were fleeing, before they slid back to meet his and she whispered, "I do, but tell me. What did you tell my mother when she came to you looking for help, Blackmoore?"
His heart froze, electric terror ran through his spine and a sharp sting exploded in his gut.
With quivering eyes, he looked down to see a dagger jutting out of his side. His grip grew weak and he gasped, "Cousin, Beve… Please…"
She raised her staff and slammed it against the ground, in a flash of purple light Aedelas felt a wall of force launch him into the air. He flailed, desperately grasping at nothing as his ruined fortress and crumbling walls fell from sight and the dim, dirty walls of the Orcs hovels swallowed him up.
He struck the ground with a violent crack that robbed all sensation from his body, a feeble wheeze tore from his lips as the world became flashes of color and sound before an Orc appeared before him.
"Thrall?" he hoped, he begged.
"No."
That was the last thing he heard.
Taretha huddled with her mother in the back of their cabin, her father was shouting though the door, "We didn't know! We didn't know!"
But the soldiers outside heard no one's plea, they howled with rage as they tore through the Durnholde, cries of "Traitors!" on their lips.
The door exploded inwards as an Arathi Knight stood before them, chest heaving bloody sword in hands.
Her mother screamed, her father raised an axe in a desperate defense when a green blur appeared from outside and crashed against the soldier, sending him to the ground with a clanking thud.
"Th- Thrall?" She gasped.
The young orcs eyes were wide eyed and frightened, a too small sword in hand as he mumbled, "Got… Got to run, got to hide. New attackers from behind, everyone must go somewhere safe. Now!"
Outside the din of battle grew and smoke began to rise outside the shattered keeps walls as the invaders cries of vengeance became shouts of shock and confusion.
The sound of stamping steel plate rang as loud as ever though and with a tug, Taretha pulled her mother to her feet and they raced out the door with Thrall.
Orcs and other common folk were climbing over rubble and atop the back walls in a bid to escape the throng of chaos as mortar ripped through the air while soldiers and fire spread.
Whatever else they might have all been, they were all united by one goal.
Survival.
Chants and shouts for order echoed across the war camp as Saidan's marshalled his forces.
"I want every soul in this camp organized and ready within the hour!" He roared.
Tents were being torn down and swords sharpened as knights hastened to join their platoons, but there was a growing din somewhere in the distance he could not place.
"When Alexandros lures those invaders out of the pass, we shall fall upon their fort from every angle and tear it open. With their secret weapon broken and Lights Hope shining bright, we shall have broken their morale and when our reinforcements arrive, this war shall be over in a matter of days!"
The cheer that rose lacked the energy and luster it had, had even a day ago, but Saidan could still see the path to victory clearly.
Even if a small kernel of worry burned in his chest; one that had been nursed as more woeful news flooded in from the South.
First when he got words his Tirasi and Stormwind reinforcements had been battered bloody thanks to an ambush by a 'menagerie of monsters' in the foothills of Alterac. Bird women, Gnolls, and Trolls, luring the soldiers in with daring raids and trapping them beneath an avalanche before retreating into the grey peaks.
'The survivors not forced to retreat to Tarren Mill shall be but a handful and it shall be many a day before another host like that can be raised.'
Then there was Dalaran, dealing with a prison break of unprecedent proportions when last Arcanist Doan could call on them.
'Dalaran can withstand a small incursion, of that I am sure.'
Their reclamation plans might stall for a time once they broke the invaders fortress and took the Bulwark, but it could still be made to work.
'Yet why no word from Tyr's Fleet or Trollbane?'
The only rational conclusion was the invaders had moved other forces through Alterac, before the recent ambush even took place and hid them until the right moment in a bid to stymie the second Southern Advance.
'If I am right, the invaders will not hold the armies of Strom and Ironforge for long.'
Of that he had absolute faith.
"My lord! Lord Commander, we need you!"
Turning to face Lieutenant Sanders, Saidan bit back a weary sigh, "Speak, lieutenant."
Sanders knelt before him, "A messenger arrived from Tyr's Fleet, their Gryphon is nearly dead from exhaustion and soldiers are beginning to panic."
"We only get word of Tyr's Fleet now?" Shaking his head, he clapped Sanders on the shoulder, beckoning him to follow.
They raced to the roost lying near the edge of his camp, where dozens, maybe even a hundred soldiers were gathering, full of nerves as a familiar Page from Tyr's Hand stood atop crates and shouted.
"Reinforcements are not coming! Tyr's Hand needs salvation now! Why do we follow Saidan to our deaths while home is being plundered!?"
"What is this!?" Saidan roared, the Light infusing his voice with weight and power enough that some fell to their knees on instinct and silence reigned.
From the crowd came a scraggly and nervous looking messenger raced out and knelt before him, "Forgive me Lord Commander, but I spoke before I could find you."
"Explain what happened, have these invaders launched a surprise attack on the fleet?" He groused, not taking his eyes from the furious looking phage.
The messenger shook his head, "Nay, it is the Amani!"
Whispered curses fell across a gathering crowd, as Saidan bit back his anger, "These trolls are coordinating their forces then?" Surely that was the only way the Forest Tribes could ever do more than harass Tyr's Bay and the fleet.
'To think, we mistook it for mere opportunism!'
"It would seem so Lord Commander, their attack on the bay came days after the fleet left, we thought ourselves able to handle it, but their numbers grew, and we are blockaded."
"Has Tyr's Hand fallen?" He snapped.
"Not yet, but…"
"Then your message of our navy; what of the fleet?"
It was the Page who cut in, his voice tinged with anger and smarm as he marched through the crowd.
"The Fleet has been destroyed, they ambushed our forces between Arathi and the Wetlands, now they move to strike us from behind."
"That is impossible, the Amani have not the means!" Sanders spat from behind him.
The messengers raised his head, "We thought so too, milord, but my kin do not lie, my fellow riders were all who survived. The Amani had some manner of giant cannon atop a new Vessel, bolstered by dozens of regular cannon all equipped as such. They ripped through our defenses and we lacked the room to maneuver and counter attack."
"That accursed metal again," Saidan spat, mind racing as he tried to strike a spark of inspiration and see the light at the end of a tunnel that grew ever darker.
The Page spoke before he could grasp it though.
"Saidan's leadership has been folly and our home is now laid bare for the Amani savages! Do you all wish to stay here fighting an endless battle while those monsters pillage our towns and- Urk!"
Saidan hoisted him up by his shirt and shouted over the growing din of the crowd, "Heed not the words of a damned child! Loyalty to king and country is what brought us here, any who try and refute that do nothing but highlight their own cowardice!"
Kicking and spitting, the boy hissed, "You want us to fight for a traitor queen who sold this kingdom away while Amani pillage the East!"
Saidan tossed the boy to the floor, Light suffusing his being as he roared, "We are far from lost! Already in the East, our Inquisition are putting the Orcs and traitors on the run and shall no doubt be racing to aid Tyr's Hand. With aid hailing from the South soon arriving and Fordring laying low the traitors at Caer Darrow, we can send his army to-"
"Look at the skies!" Someone shrieked.
'Oh Light, not now…'
His gaze turned to the cloudy sky that roiled and rumbled, great fissured forming as the winds howled and rain began to fall upwards.
'What in the world is happening!?'
Battering ram crashed against the gates. Cannons bombarded the walls. Gryphon Rider hammer strikes and Mage conjured blizzards battered against the defenses of Caer Darrow.
All around Alexi trolls chanted, sang, and danced, the air was thick and heavy with incense and burnt offerings as their deep voices rose high.
Upon the battlements was Gal'Darah seemingly uncaring to the dangers outside, he was instead carrying on like a mad conductor to the rising cacophony of sensations that battered the mind and soul.
"I… See here… Gal-" He felt Illucais's hand on his shoulder, she was quaking.
"Don't… Disturb them…" She whispered.
He looked to her, eyes wide and face pale; he grasped her shoulders, "What is happening Illucia, tell me…" She looked up; his gaze drifted upward as well.
The sky was being torn asunder.
Tirion's gaze was torn from Caer Darrow's walls as Wildhammer Gryphon Riders -only what the clan could spare thanks to a Forest Troll offensive on their capital- broke off from the siege. Each among them surging into the sky, hammers raised high.
'What is happening!?' The winter clouds were dark and roiling, mighty fissures carved within that looked ready to devour the lands and seas alike.
"The water!" Someone's howl touched his ears and Tirion's heart froze at the sight.
The oceanic lake surrounding Caer Darrow was receding. It was being drawn into the skies, rising in a great wall of crashing water.
"All forces fall back to the camp! Raise our defenses! Drive your swords into the ground. A tidal wave comes!"
Howling winds and raging rapids cascaded across Gal'Darah's mind.
The will of his god, the pantheon and ancestors kept him strong and grounded, lest his mind and body be taken entirely.
Their presence flowed from him to the Water Binders, Priest and Shaman alike, just as their spirits intern buoyed his strength.
'Your people, so few lamentably familiar with the spirits have left them neglected and angry. Is this providence I wonder?'
Hair whipping wildly in the wind he stood tall, word priests calls and familiar prayers falling from his lips as the energies swelled and surged, for if this was a storm, then he was its heart and mind.
Gal'Darah whispered in prayer to his gods, to his people and his king, the words spilling from his maw like crashing water.
"I come now…"
His hands rose high, drawing back the waves as they roared, hands against their 'backs' he spoke the final words.
"...To wipe this land clean of discord and rebellion."
Grasping the waves, he lurched forward, dragging their essence forward on straining arms, fangs near cracking as he roared, his voice drowned out by the crashing of tidal rapids.
"For Frost King Malakk!"
The tidal waves came crashing down upon them before Tirion and his forces could all make it behind the barrier.
Flinging himself forward, he slammed his hammed into the earth, "Light Protect us!"
Called to his being, the warming, soothing, Light that was suffused to his spirit as his own skin, burst forth from his frame in a dome of pulsing power. It engulfed fleeing soldiers in its wake just as the tidal waves crashed down upon them in a deafening wave of destruction.
Alexi could do little more than watch in awe as the waves parted around Caer Darrow before converging on the coastline.
Mighty titans crashing against one another in a deafening cacophony that put any cannon or storm he had heard to shame.
Shouts, thunder, gunship fire, all lost beneath the cascading roar of roiling destruction that fell upon the Alliance army with such force it let loose something like a thunderclap!
Illucia no longer clung to him, instead she looked near energized by the display, color returning to her cheeks, eyes alight with a giddy, manic sort of energy. Even his own untrained senses told him the air was alive with power that stirred the mind and heart alike.
The waves washed over the coast and crashed against the mountains, white foam and thrashing waters bursting and writhing even as they surged back into the great lake as if pulled by some unnatural force, and with them they took the Alliance army.
Or most of it at least, he realized, seeing scattered remnants from the ruined coast. Watch posts were gone, camps shattered to shrapnel in the waves and he could not count the number of soldiers or ships missing. Sheets of ice and broken remnants of boats and weapons littered the mountains and coastline.
Yet despite all odds, some remnants of the heart of their camp remained, battered, clearly having been breached, even if their defenses bore the brunt of the waves, and upon the path to the coast was a single golden beacon laying sprawled upon the ground.
Yet however miraculous their survival was, a single fact remained.
"We won…"
Tirion gagged as he forced himself to his knees, chest heaving hair matted and wet from the dregs of water that had washed over him in their flight back to the great lake and his strength finally gave out.
"Sir? Lord Paladin?" The few surviving soldiers called, sounding so far away and so few.
His body had not been able to sustain the strain of such divine power. Battered and struck against by gunboats and pressure near insurmountable, the golden shield had shrunk further and further ensuring many he'd tried to guard had been taken by the wave.
Chest heaving, body aching with tension that left every muscle stretched taught, he forced himself to stand, eying the battered heart of his camp when the trolls voice called across the divide yet again.
Gal'Darah let out a sigh, hand slapping against his chest as his heartbeat against his ribs wildly and he tried to catch his breath. "That took more of me than I expected."
He could hear the Barov's shuffling closer to him on the battlements and waved them closer, "Fine timing, noble allies," he said.
Pulling his amplification idol from his robes, he spoke, "Brave warriors, I commend you for withstanding that barrage! But I beg of you to see the reality of your situation and accept Frost King Malakk as your liege!"
The human's leader, Tirion lurched around, howling in the distance, "We will never surrender our honor, our pride or our nation!"
Gal'Darah shook his head, "I spoke not to you, commander, for you are defeated, I speak to those who remain that have families and homes they wish to return to, lives they want to live. Throw down your weapons, forsake these false leaders and you shall be safe!"
The Paladins hammer surged towards his head and with the barrier gone it would be dangerous indeed!
Gal'Darah made to call his spear, but Illucia appeared before him in a flash, arcane energy exploding from her hands and suffusing the Paladins weapon with violet light. The hammer froze and pulsed, throbbing with power before it exploded into slag.
Not missing a beat, he continued, "But all of those so lost in madness they would reject this mercy even now… I can do nothing for one who is bent on spreading death and chaos in my Frost King's dominion; some vessels were merely meant for destruction. Throw down your arms and be spared, for we come to meet you now!"
His warriors chanted, weapons raised, and the gates began to swing open, his rhino roaring and stomping impatiently as the vanguard marched ahead.
Gal'Darah glanced to the Barov's Gal'Darah glanced to the Barov's, "Care to join us?" before saluting and leaping down to land upon Baku's back to join his fellows as they marched to victory.
Alexandros glared at the offending Mobile-Fortress as its masters let loose another barrage of spears and spells. Their beasts and magic lurching the monstrosity forward with such violent haste the wheels screamed and the land quaked.
"The Light shall not yield to such brute force!" He proclaimed, Paladins roaring in ascent, their raised hands letting loose glowing golden hammers that streamed into the barrier and burst forth as a roaring wave of golden fire.
The Trolls at the forefront of the fortress raced back to avoid them even as their accursed metal repelled the rest.
"Milord, a messenger!"
Alexandros could feel his heart racing with dual dread and joy at the thought. Had reinforcements finally arrived, or had disaster struck?
Turning to face the unfamiliar woman, her subtly tanned features and oddly shaped ears marked her of East-Elven descent. She bore shining shield of gold and eyes mired with worry, saluting she said, "I am Holia Sunshield, Permission to speak milord?"
"Granted, Paladin."
Bowing her head she spoke, "The Lord Commander bids you to retreat with all due haste. Tyr's Hand is under attack, Lord Fordring's army has fallen to the trolls wicked magics and our reinforcements were sabotaged by Amani interlopers."
A hush fell across the marshalled priests and paladins, Lights Hope dimmed and flickered even as Alexandros's rallied, mind grasping for hope.
"We… We are to retreat to Hearthglen then, or Andorhol? Shall our forces be divided?"
Holia shook her head, "The hills northward to Hearthglen have been swarmed by Ogres and Gnolls, they will be waiting for us. Andorhol is deemed a chance, but we do not know if we can hold it, even with…" she wilted at his scowl. "I speak only the Lord Commanders words, milord. Our army is fraying, soldiers break ranks to flee East in a bid to save Tyr's Hand."
"Dammit, dammit all! Tell the Lord Commander I shall hold the line for as long as possible that we might evacuate as many souls as possible," Alexandros said.
"… Sir, the Lord Commander insists that you be among the heart of our forces to guard against pursuing raiders and ensure the Lights Hope does not fall into the wrong hands." Every word obviously pained her, but he could see by her squared shoulders and stern gaze that these orders were paramount.
"But, the soldiers, the common folk…" lights Hope shook within his hand, a mournful wail keening high, only to be drowned out by the rolling of wheels and stamping of monstrous feet.
Grasping the crystal, he thrust it forward and roared, "Light Preserve us!" And watched the barrier flare to life. The golden energy shook and quaked with the earth, but held fast, even as another stream of spears and spells rained down.
'Damn him, the monster kept us penned and distracted, sending his forces over the hills to cut off our avenues of retreat and now… My life, this weapon, it should not be worth so many others!'
Shoulders quaking, he heaved a sigh, "Send word to the Lord Commander and beg that he evacuate as many as he can, and I shall do as he bids."
"It is already being done, milord," She answered, tone clipped in subtle offence, before she bowed, "and please, make haste."
"I will, I swear it on my honor and loyalty," Alexandros answered tiredly.
He turned his gaze to the mobile fort and for, but a moment caught the gaze of the black armored troll that must have been its commander, and he mouthed, 'This is not over.'
Raising his voice, he shouted, "Forces, reform ranks and prepare to move Eastward!"
Tari Cogg could feel her stamina flagging as Dalaran's barrier strained under the weight of its attackers. Her arms were numb, her every breath labored and tight as her insides tensed and coiled, just begging for relief.
But she did not break from her stance, arcane energies poured from her hands and infused the rippling dome as soldiers outside clashed with howling orcs.
Warmage Calandra stood at the forefront, arms raised high, as she ordered, "Do not lose control! We must fold the defense in two, letting our soldiers slip through while repelling the orcs. Focus people, we all have to maintain the energy matrix's stability!"
Tari could feel others had collapsed elsewhere already, their energy had been dwindling ever since that terrible explosion wiped out so many Barrier-Magi. With dragon flames beating against the peak of their dome and who knew what else hitting them from the Lake and orcs before her, more and more energy was spread thin to keep everything at bay.
Apprentice Catriona Macrae let out a wretched sob next to her, body lurching as she strained to stay on her feet.
"Hey, hey hang on," Tari whispered, "We can hold this, it will just be a bit longer, I promise."
Something crashed against the barrier, and Catriona staggered to her knees, ears drooping.
"Hold formation!" Calandra howled, magic crackling as she tried to reinforce the barrier.
"I… I can't!" Catriona heaved.
"Just a little longer, please!" Tari begged her.
Eyes squeezed Catriona lurched forward, mana streaming from her hands in a wild, chaotic arc that crashed against the field. Shoulders quaking, she twitched and skidded back as the energies began to writhe and rebound.
"It- It's too much!"
That scream was the last Tari heard of her before the elves magic flashed around her like a bolt of lightning and launched to the ground.
Another battering ram strike broke through the throng of soldiers and strange runes blazed to life, burning away at their magic.
"Hold!"
Another screamed echo and with a burst of light, Battle Mage Crius was hurled back.
"Dragons are breaching the peak!" Someone screamed.
"Let the towers deal with them and reinforce our defenses at ground level!" Calandra barked.
Tari's body screamed at her, she forced more arcane magic than she had ever wielded in her life through her frame, teeth grinding, vision flashing and-
'Too much!'
In a flash of arcing light, power burst from her body and Tari skidded along the ground. As the world faded, she could hear more cries of shock and pain as the world outside the dome became terribly clear.
The sounds of clashing steel and dying screams echoed on the streets. The stench of war fires stung his senses. It was the kind of battle even he had seen only rarely as a child, those that stuck with him even now, all concentrated and magnified into a city too small to bear it.
It was everything Malakk had hoped to avoid and yet for all his rank and power, found himself in the thick of and unable to halt it.
Dragging Zerat through the air, Malakk cleaved through a crackling orb of arcane magic.
Kutube'sa leapt from the streets and rebounded off an apartment to land behind a hastily erected cart barricade and with one flash of his flaming sword cut down the soldiers behind it.
A shot rang out and Bith'Sa was between him and the alleyway bound assassin before the bullet even got close, deflecting it, and unleashing a line of jagged ice spikes that ripped through the shooter in a single blurred moment.
The looming guard tower let loose another screeching ball of arcane energy, this one was met by a Frozen Warlord. She leapt into the air; arms crossed over her chest as enchanted words spilled from her mouth. In one swift motion the crackling ball of lightning crashed against her. Only to be rejected and dispersed with a violent flash of writhing shadows as her arms unfurled and she landed back on the streets with an irate hiss.
"Shamans, disrupt its flow!" Malakk roared.
His shamans answer was a uniform shout of as they danced in motion, fists clamming into the stone streets as they flipped over and crashed one foot after the other down again, forming a growing crescendo of sound and fury.
More distant barricades shook as the ground rumbled and in one cataclysmic roar, the earth beneath the tower surged upwards, tilting the tower as it was torn from its foundations.
Before Malakk could even order an advance, a spell from another street lashed across the air and came crashing down like a glowing meteor of ice that exploded on contact, ripping apart the remaining foundations and sending the arcane tower toppling down.
'No, no!'
Malakk and his forces reared back from the shockwave and dust cloud that followed as another quake rocked the streets of Dalaran.
The tower had collapsed not just on soldiers, barricades, or empty streets, but houses too.
"Commander Gan'Rah, take your war band and search for any survivors!"
"As you say, Frost King Malakk!" She answered, breaking off and dashing down the street, warriors and casters in rank and file behind her.
Malakk, turned from the devastation, eyes flickering across the once pristine city, a scowl etched on his features.
An orc war-band was breaking ranks not far from him, eyes shining in the darkness of night as they crashed against a humble house with boards over the windows.
"Someone, get those soldiers under control!" He roared, levelling his blade at the orcish fighters.
He could see a Chieftain and their retinue rushing to the Orcs side, but his ears could already hear chaos spreading on streets unseen. Fires springing up where there should be none, following in the wake of 'his' orcish Legions.
Iixit shuffled to the front, nursing a bandaged claw, and rasping, "We are wasting time, the battle is chaos, and we must secure the Violet Citadel."
"Quetz'Lith and her dragoons have it surrounded and bombarded with fire," Malakk hissed, "We have time to do this right!"
As he said that a hooting cheer of "Lok'Tar Ogar!" boomed in time with the sound of human shouts. Clearly, they had broken a stalemate and with nary a glance Malakk could see a wave of warriors swarming like water through a funnel down the streets, discipline and order fading fast.
"Frost King Malakk, humans are gathering behind the towers base, they are bracing for a fight!" Someone shouted.
Biting back a curse, he hissed, "Seer Ixit, Commanders of Zul'Drak, take your war bands, secure the tower and these surroundings streets, raise barricades and hold your positions! Bith'sa, Kutube'sa and Third Gundraki Legion, you are with me!"
"As you command, Frost King Malakk!"
He did not wait for his orders to be answered, taking off with his twin guards and a Legion of warriors and casters following in his wake. Malakk was too large to move through the alleyways and was forced to climb over walls and race across rooftops to where the newest center of battle was inflamed.
Bursting onto the city streets, Malakk was greeted to the sight of broken fences and windows, torn up gardens and the sound of screaming.
"Fan out, line the streets if you have to!" He barked, leaping for the closest orcs without a pause for breath.
An orcs fist had rammed through a window as he wildly thrust his spear into a house.
Grabbing the small fighter, Malakk yanked them back and easily caught the spear the warrior tried to lance him with. Snarling they dropped the weapon and made to strike him.
Malakk grasped his shoulder-guards and tossed him into his stunned kin as his guards pushed them back onto the streets.
The sound of splintering wood hit his ears, and Malakk seethed as the door broke in a wail filled the air, drowned out quickly by the Orcs roaring laughter.
It was only a step away, but a step too long in Malakk's mind.
He reached the door and knelt down to bear witness as a mage in simple robes cradling a child, their magic breaking and blood running down their side as the Orc drew back his axe.
Malakk reached into the house grasped the orc around his waste, tearing the orcs from the house and tossed him to the street.
"Why!?" They wailed, snarling they flung themselves to their feet, "Brought us here to fight!"
"I brought you here to fight warriors and arcanists, not houses and civilians, get back in line and-"
A stream of light rained down and struck the streets, ripping through a group of Legionaries in a flash.
"And attack the people shooting at us, NOW!"
Nodding numbly, the Orc staggered back towards the line, before getting swept up in the tide and carried deeper into the city.
"Bith'Sa, heal them and seal the door with ice," he ordered.
A chorus of draconic shrieks filled the air, and Malakk's gaze snapped to the Violet Citadel.
Once resplendent & elegant, the tower now cast a baleful, rippling shadow across Dalaran, for it was in flames.
'I can only hope this ends soon, and that the others are faring more nobly than I,' Malakk thought, rejoining the battle line.
NOTES:
I decided to bit the bullet and do the rest of this segment in one chapter, I hope it worked, the title is a reference to title two chapters ago, IE Building Momentum and thus becoming an unstoppable force.
Thanks to the commenter who suggested Moorabi's bones become a shrapnel weapon, that was neat and helped further drive Malakk's recklessness. Also glad I revised this segment, it went too smoothly the first time I did it and hey, remember that other interment camp the Orcs were told they'd be marching on? Well here it is! XD These chapters are also to show some more of the ugliness of war, and of the danger of allying with the the orcs as casually as Malakk did. I hope that worked as intended.
And finally Durnholde falls and we get an idea of what Thrall will be doing, I liked the idea of him and Taretha having a bond and looking out for one another and so I wanted to hint at that being explored here, along with offer Blackmoore the ignominious death he deserved.
I took some advice and opted against writing the Alterac Ambush, and instead just referenced it happening here, I hope that and the other details like what Grom has been up to made sense. Also, one thing I have been aiming to sell thus far is that Saidan is a good leader and strategist, he's just not perfect and is operating under less than ideal circumstances. Also some of that Eastweld VS Old Lordaeron tension.
Also the Amani's Ambush took place between this super thin line of water that divides the Wetlands from Arathi, which is why they designed their cannon-ships to take advantage of that and why the Alliance struggled to maneuver. A fun comparison that always pops into my head in the JLF's Electromagnetic Shrapnel Cannon from Code Geass. This was also another scene I opted against including cos there was enough jumping around already.
And here's that big ritual magic I promised! Originally I had Tirion fail to save any of the soldiers but that felt disrespectful and I also had Gal'Darah's final lines be: Gal'Darah glanced to the Barov's staring at him quizzically and a might bit shocked. He shrugged, "I said I was tired, not exhausted," before saluting and leaping down to land upon Baku's back to join his fellows as they marched to victory.
But that felt too jokey.
Wanted to emphasize that Drakkari & Malakk are 'big' again, so here he is picking people half his size up like plush toys XD
Also more horrors of war.
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Arcane Howitzer
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Yeah, the orcs have always had a bit of an issue with discipline, and the lingering influence of the Burning Legion certainly isn't helping matters. Battling in open fields or fortifications is one thing, but they'll probably need significant training or re-training before they can safely be sent into urban combat without reverting to the kind of savagery that caused them to be so hated and feared by the Alliance in the first place.
I suppose an appeal to honor might work as a quick patch-job in the short term. After all, what glory is there to be had in killing those who cannot effectively fight back?
I suppose an appeal to honor might work as a quick patch-job in the short term. After all, what glory is there to be had in killing those who cannot effectively fight back?
Yuuup, I imagine going from mostly hunting animals or fighting desperate self defense battle against Ogres with the occasional honor duel scattered in between doesn't leave a warrior culture well adapted for discipline and self control against a hated foe. Add in years of Legion fueled social decay and as you say the Demon blood in their veins and letting them anywhere near civilians was a huge mistake on the Drakkaris's part. Mhm, good insights there, yeah re-training is the ideal option, especially as we know the ideological stuff doesn't vanish with the Cursed Blood either
There's definitely some potential there, I can see that being one of the first avenues Xex'Mon tries, how successful it'd be would likely vary, but I like the quick patch job terminology.
Thanks for the comment
I stumbled on a Height Calculator and I love it XD
I do which they didn't slide people beneath the red line but oh well, just the image of even a regular Drakkari trying to sit on that lounge is hilarious to me XD If this were a comic Lianne & every other human would be fighting for their lives just to get in the panel, meanwhile Trolls are crawling through doors XD
The purple one represents Dark Trolls.
I do which they didn't slide people beneath the red line but oh well, just the image of even a regular Drakkari trying to sit on that lounge is hilarious to me XD If this were a comic Lianne & every other human would be fighting for their lives just to get in the panel, meanwhile Trolls are crawling through doors XD
Arcane Howitzer
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You know, reading words about "Wow they're so tall!" just doesn't have the same effect as having an actual visual comparison. They're not just taller than humans, they're in the upper half of the next Size Category up. The kind of size usually reserved for ogres and small giants who can rip a small tree out of the ground and swing it around as a club.
You know the trolls from Lord of the Rings? The ones that give everyone an Oh Crap moment at the mere prospect of getting within arm's reach of one? The one that Legolas had to stand on its shoulders and shoot it point-blank in the back of the head to kill it, and it still stumbled around for a few seconds after that before it fell? The ones the orcs in the third Hobbit movie used for siege equipment?
That's about how tall your trolls are. Probably not as bulky, but still roughly eye-to-eye with them.
The Buster Sword from ff7 would be a reasonably-sized weapon for them. In fact, that's probably about how big Zerat is.
This is the kind of size difference where the average human flat out can't engage one in conventional melee combat because its arm is nearly as long as he is tall. Uther would have needed to use a step stool or else bring Malakk to his knees to strike anywhere above the belt, let alone stab him through the gut.
Malakk could literally punt a gnome like an American football.
You know the trolls from Lord of the Rings? The ones that give everyone an Oh Crap moment at the mere prospect of getting within arm's reach of one? The one that Legolas had to stand on its shoulders and shoot it point-blank in the back of the head to kill it, and it still stumbled around for a few seconds after that before it fell? The ones the orcs in the third Hobbit movie used for siege equipment?
That's about how tall your trolls are. Probably not as bulky, but still roughly eye-to-eye with them.
The Buster Sword from ff7 would be a reasonably-sized weapon for them. In fact, that's probably about how big Zerat is.
This is the kind of size difference where the average human flat out can't engage one in conventional melee combat because its arm is nearly as long as he is tall. Uther would have needed to use a step stool or else bring Malakk to his knees to strike anywhere above the belt, let alone stab him through the gut.
Malakk could literally punt a gnome like an American football.
Honestly I'm glad to hear its not just me with that problem, I've done several (Purely written) height lists and its still hard to wrap my head around a visual even as I am describing it, this chart really was a blessing.
That's a really excellent description actually, it has a nice fantastical quality while also sounding kind of scientific too if that makes sense? Also yes, the bigger trolls can totally do that with trees, XD
Amusing aside, the RPG's Ogres reach adulthood at about 8 feet, but then just grow randomly by like two feet ever few years, with the largest and ogre can get being EDIT (I got that wrong it was) 25 feet, the RPG was wild (OO)
Huh, yeah that is fitting as a comparison and yeah I tried to sell the oh crap factor a few times like when Drakkari were just resting their arms on top of houses or being on once causes it to collapse cos they are just 'that' big in comparison to their surroundings, and with humans needing to climb up a Dire Troll to stab at it properly during the siege. (I think they did that even with regular trolls.
I forgot they got used as siege equipment, but yeah that fits, and also yeah not quite as bulky or broad, fun mental image. Fun aside, I got a lot of these heights from scattered lore, this is also why the Drakkari & Dark Trolls are taller than the Zandalari here who are the third tallest now.
Oh my gosh that really sells how ridiculous that sword is XD Also yeah that scans well, now I wanna see them clash XD
Mhm, excellent insights there, I wish I'd have this chart sooner and maybe worked to better convey that in combat, like the Alliance switching to long spears and such to at least try and make up the difference. (Of course hacking off an enemies leg can also be effective) Good insight on there, and yea, Malakk was leaning down and partially crouching due to how his attack had been maneuvered against him, and Uther's weapon had a long enough shaft that it could land a good blow.
I shouldn't laugh at that but I mean, you're right XD
Malakk: I would never, outside of combat, & I have no grudge against the Gnomes... I think... Where was that council meeting attendance list?
Honestly a big part of my reasons for tracking down that chart and constantly emphasizing their size was due to annoyance with how the games & art say "X is this tall" and then its like, a couple of heads taller than a human. Like, come one, these are alternate, magical species, show-em off XD
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Arcane Howitzer
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It's actually terminology from the D&D/Pathfinder RPGs. Medium is the roughly human-sized standard: 4'-8', takes up one square and can strike any square directly adjacent to them. Large is 8'-16', takes up four squares in a 2X2, can strike up to two squares out, and has various bonuses and maluses to certain stats and skills. You literally need to re-think how you approach one in combat or else they get a free attack before you can hit back. And yes, reach weapons like long spears are a popular choice when facing a Large opponent.
Huge, the next size up, is 3X3 and has proportional reach, and Malakk is closer to that than he is to Medium.
Huh, I never knew that but it is very cool to learn, thanks for the info, that was a solid breakdown. Honestly I always wanted to try D&D or something like it but (Waves hand) so many hoops. Also I am reminded of an old Order of the Stick joke where an Ogre also has a super long flail that lets them attack like 3X3, so long as he jumps backwards, it was a great strategy until it forced him to jump off a cliff.
Wow, that is good to know, and is another fun way to help put such things into perspective, thanks!
Malakk: You should see my aunt on my fathers side.
Arcane Howitzer
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Yeah, it's actually the system OotS is based on, and that fight/joke was based on the Size/Reach/Attack of Opportunity rules in D&D 3.0.
Well, that and ogres generally not being the sharpest knife in the drawer.