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New Dominion (Warcraft)

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Zam said:
He was smiling, relief dancing in his heart and yet he still asked, like a child, "So you will be there, Chieftain?"

"I'm not going anywhere for some time Nazgrel, count on that."
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The Torrent's of War: Part 6 - King Me
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    • The Torrent's of War: Part 6 - King Me​

    Calia had never before visited Arathi, though she had grown up hearing tales of its bawdy men and wild women. Looking across the crowd she would have struggled to differentiate them from Lordaeron's court, save that beards were apparently quite unpopular here.

    She stood bedecked in a gold lined, pale white and blue dress that cut off to allow for comfortable riding pants, all of which was hidden beneath a furry cloak. All 'gifts' from the Drakkari and done in a blend of their and Lordaeron styles.

    She was just a step behind her mother, who was herself only half a step behind Malakk. Position and presentation being premier for princesses to learn and Calia understood the importance of even their simple stances. Still, as but a princess, it was her duty to quietly observe and politely interact, and so she did. Exchanging tense greetings as seating arrangements were organized and scribes took notes.

    'I was hoping after so long riding we might have the chance to stand, but I suppose it will just have to wait,' she thought. 'I understand Arthas's complaints about riding cross country better now…' Her heart clenched but though her gaze may have wavered for a moment, she did not crack. Taking in a deep, cool breath of crisp air and focusing herself again.

    'A subtle presence, the eyes and ears of a queen are an invaluable resources to their king,' she had so often been told and it was a lesson she had learnt well. Too well in some people's minds as it made her a dab hand at slipping away unnoticed from functions, but this was neither the time nor place.

    In truth there was not yet much to observe, the Stromgardians were uniformly grim and clipped in tone which was relatively typical from her experience. However their weighted stares and the lines of tension in their tones were new. Barring the now ennobled head of a Sniper Company, she knew the names of the nobles present and what to expect from them.

    'Or one would think,' she thought bitterly, looking to Galen Trollbane with a festering, ugly sort of resentment. 'King Thoras may not have been like an uncle as Uther was, but he was a noble man who came to save us. If you were more patient and braver you might have even had my hand.'

    That thought was admittedly an unpleasant one. Even before his treasons she had not been fond of Galen, though she had not hated him. He had simply always bore an undercurrent of bitterness to him that left him contentious and cold. All of which had been inflamed by the loss of Danath with the expedition, leaving a part of her wondering who really raised the man before them.

    'Not that it matters now,' she thought with a sigh as the parties broke and strode to their seats.

    "They're backed into a corner," Barov muttered contemptuously.

    "And cornered foes fight hardest," Zol'Maz whispered.

    "If all goes as planned, they shall be freed from those walls and have no need to fight, yes?" Calia said.

    Malakk chuckled, "Well said, let us liberate them of their woes."

    Taking their seats, the deliberations began.

    Hooktusk, her subordinate captains, allies and Flynn filled her spacious and brightly lit war room atop the deck of Malakk's Might. An incredibly detailed model of their target hewn from enchanted stone rising from the floor between they and their cushioned mats.

    Flynn's casual tones filled the room as he motioned at Stormsong Valley, "The reinforcements for Hillsbrad will have come from here. With that in mind, the main body of Kul'Tiras's fleet will most certainly still be housed at Boralus, along with their forces."

    "None on this Drustvar then?" A Drakkari captain asked.

    Hooktusk chuckled, "It's a mountainous region, they have some small docks and patrols, but they are not the main focus."

    Krag'Jin's forest bride, Seraphine of Winter, was quick to cut in, "The Covens of this land are great and varied, they shall not surrender their land meekly."

    Hooktusk swallowed her surprise and said, "Fortunately then, you are among us and can counter them, or even negotiate with them. Still, for now our goal is the coastline first and foremost."

    Krag'Jin shared a glance with his Witch before looking to Flynn, "You said your allies would deal with the fleet?"

    "They will strike at the harbor and enter the foray earliest, yes. But they will be expecting reinforcement and of course, some Tirasi will be out on patrol; so not every ship shall fall despite us wanting otherwise," he said with an awkward chuckle.

    Hooktusk waved him off, "No plan survives contact with the enemy. What's more, with the other pirate crews slated to attack and riots in the streets, the sabotage is only part of our plan."

    "Lots of moving parts," Her former first mate frowned, the half goblin rocking back in their cushion as they spoke.

    "Maybe so," Hooktusk conceded, "But none are dependent on each other. So long as not everything fails, we should be able to win this; or at least keep Kul'Tiras out of the war for a time and fight-em on an even playing field."

    The discussion was sundered by a ringing of a gong outside.

    Shooting to her feet, Hooktusk leapt across the map, shoving aside captains and bursting from the doors. She skidded out onto the deck to see her lookouts in their fort like crow's nest looking down at her.

    "Captain, we won't be needing the forward scouts!" Biki, shouted, enchanted spy-scope humming at their side.

    "And why do you say that!?" She called back.

    The troll gulped, "Smoke Navarch, the skies of Kul'Tiras are choked with it, we cannot see the fleet yet, but we know fires must be thriving!"

    Hooktusk's gaze shot to Flynn who muttered, "The docks being alight shouldn't cause such smoke."

    "Your captain friends then?" She asked, "Harlane, Eudora, Jolly and Raoul are a rough bunch."

    Flynn's jaw tensed, "Maybe, but I doubt they'd be so brazen to launch the assault before we were in sight."

    "Well clearly something has happened," Her fangs slapped together in a hiss. "Dammit it all, if this turns into another bloody massacre, Malakk will have our heads." Her hand shot high, "Drakkari, your Navarch commands this! Full Speed Ahead!"

    Chants and shouts answered her call, and she barked to her captains. "Back to your ships all of you, fall in behind mine. We'll cut through anything in our way, this is our moment to shine sea dogs, don't let me down!"

    "Hail Navarch!"

    Hooktusk heard them go, her gaze locked onto the horizon.

    Her coat writhed in the harsh winds as the priests, shamans and even Witches in their company invoked air and seas all around them as they sailed to into battle.

    From the depths of Proudmoore Keep's prison one could hear Chief Jailor Smithson's voice booming from the balcony, "Get this rabble under control!" As Tide Sages turned gouts of water on the marshalling mob that was barely held back by soldiers shields and steel.

    "Sounds like it's getting hairy up there," Jamie said, looking to her senior.

    "Never you mind what's happening there, we have a job to do," the old man said, speaking louder so his smoky voice could be heard over the hooting and threats of the prisoners.

    "Just thinking is all," Jamie said, bringing her sword up before her and studying her reflection in it.

    The old man snorted, "If yer nervous lass, just say it. Not every day new recruits have to skeleton crew the cells while a mob rages outside, but it'll blow over."

    "Oh, I'm not nervous about that sir," she said, half turning to face him.

    Whiskers bristling, he looked to her, brow arched, "What do you, ah!" He flung himself back, the blade slashing across his cheek and sending a chunk of ear to the ground. He went for his sword, but a shadow loomed behind and before he could shout again a mace crushed his skull.

    Nodding to her fellow privateer, Jamie glanced deeper into the stunned silent prison as the Scrimshaws were piling on the last guard, the pair stabbing the man over and over until he went limp.

    "You done?" she snapped.

    "Just being thorough," their leader chuckled, lobbing a pair of keys which she snatched with ease, passing one off to her partner as they began racing around the room.

    "Tidemothers Titties, what are you doing!?" Someone howled.

    One of the enforcers chuckled, "Giving you lot your freedom, Don Adams sends his regards."

    The freed prisoners raced to arm themselves, snatching up armor from the dead, those too fearful or horrified quickly cajoled into place or put down when they tried to run. Within twenty minutes, the prison cells were empty, and Jamie levelled her sword at the stairs, "Your freedom lies that way, with nothing but your jailor standing between you and a clean break."

    The lead Scrimshaw raised his arm high, "Down with the Jailor!" before charging up the steps, followed by a roaring band of criminals.

    Glancing to her partner, she heard him mutter, "Is this a good idea?"

    "Too late now, besides, we will be swinging back ale in Booty Bay before things get real bad," seeing him nod she motioned to a barrel in the back of the room. "Now help me with the oil will ya?"

    With a heave and ho, they hefted the barrel from its place and revealed a clean get away to the sewers. Kicking the container over, Jamie watched as the thick gobbly liquid spilled forth and spread across the chamber. Waiting until she heard her partners metal clad feet hit the ground, she took an enchanted candle and as she stepped back, lightly tossed it towards the shimmering liquid.

    As she fell into her partners arms, she could practically feel the heat washing over them as light flared up above them.

    'Time to go, I think.'

    Don Adam wore an ear splitting grin on his face as he leaned upon the balcony, Lil'Friend perched obediently on his shoulder, they looked out across the city.

    He could just barely make out the ruined barracks in the distance. Tide Sages had quenched the flames it seemed and the crowd he had pulled together had broken under the pressure after Smithson's mangled body had been hurled to the street.

    'That got the guards blood pumping,' he thought with a chuckle.

    All he had heard hinted at a chaotic melee springing to life around the man's body as flames spread through the barracks. His forces had retreated and the soldiers had turned their blades and magic heedlessly on the civilians, hastening the spread of chaos and anger in the crowd as they tore off to escape.

    Casting his gaze across the city, Don Adam scratched his pet's ears as he breathed in the putrid scent of oil fires. Plumes of wretched smoke rising into the sky from condemned houses and alleyways all across the capital as screaming filled the air.

    "We win then?" Lil' Friend asked.

    "I think so, but we need to wait for the real fireworks to start before we can be sure," he intoned, looking towards the distant docks. He was just in time to see the flash of gun powder tear across the docks in a roaring inferno, followed by another and another.

    'The ships may be enchanted to resist flames, but the docks, the fishing boats, the people?' He chuckled, 'Well you can't afford to protect everything Proudmoore and we know where your priorities lie.'

    So long as the fires burnt wild and his agents ran wreck loose across Boralus the navy would be weakened, stricken by discord and injuries alike, leaving Kul'Tiras weak and vulnerable.

    The perfect target.

    Daelin stood aboard his flagship, sweat on his brow, shaking hands and the memories of charred flesh, and screaming locked deep within himself as he focused on the task at hand.

    "I want us in formation and the cannons loaded, sailors, Kul'Tiras will not fall!"

    "Aye Aye sir!"

    Hands clasped tight his knuckles creaked as he looked out across his fleet, gaze following the smoke trails rising high from across Boralus that were only now coming under control.

    'Not soon enough, not swift enough, the next stage of any attack will begin any moment!'

    His focus fell upon his Keep and his chest tightened as the memory struck him.

    His family in the lobby, his son shaken, Jaina asking if the war had come for them like Dalaran and promising her magic would be up to the task, and Katherine austere as ever, yet still holding their children's hands.

    "I leave the city under Waycrests watch and our home in yours my wife," They kissed for but a moment as he pulled away, pulling his children into a hug. "Protect each other, in the end, family and friends are all one has, and know I love you both."

    "Father!" His son cried.

    "No fear now," he whispered, a ghost of a smile on his lips.

    They steeled themselves, their youth still clear but their bearings every bit as noble as their lineage.

    "Please father, do not be reckless," Jaina beseeched.

    "I shall endeavor it, and whatever else, remember that I am proud of you both. Always."

    And with that he had dashed out the door and to his griffon, the docks being aflame would not keep him from the seas.    ​

    "Admiral we have sights on distant vessels, not our own, they must have broken through our patrols!

    He could tell not every ship was yet ready, quelling the flames that clung to the vessels, replacing said, ferrying everyone aboard by griffon had slowed them, let alone re-stocking the gun powder. 'The ships survived but our provisions are wanting,' he thought.

    The crow's nest shouted again, "They are not the trolls!"

    Daelin spat, "Traitors or overly cunning pirates then? How are our cannons!?"

    "We are ready Admiral!" His first mate shouted.

    Nodding he snapped, "Let us greet them with a hail of cannon fire then, a true Tirasi welcome to those foolish enough to challenge us on the open seas!"

    "Aye Aye Admiral!"

    'Down on supplies, sailors and sabers alike,' he thought, catching sight of the approaching vessels. 'But we can hold this lot.'

    "Admiral! We have word of troll vessels from the north, it's the flag ship!"

    His mind split, his foes approached from two sides and Daelin made his decision, "Have three quarters of our vessels engage them, we shall hold the pirates here!"

    "Admiral!?"

    "My Flagship can handle a few pirates, now relay my orders!"

    His gaze snapped to the pirates, his hand coming to rest on his saber, 'While I draw breath not a one of you shall set foot on Tirasi shores,' His gaze turned to the Tidesages and he took what may be his last look at home before muttering, "No matter the cost."

    Calia watched as Malakk took his throne across from Galen, the redhead piping up quickly, "As you requested this meeting, it seems only fair you explain your intentions here."

    'He's so desperate to avoid addressing him by name or as king,' Calia mused.

    "My intentions are simple enough but to know them you must understand them," Malakk hummed, motioning smoothly to those around him and before him as he spoke.

    "Great Mother Arctikus and her tribe were chased from their lands, their homes destroyed and their fallen desecrated by the Ironforge Dwarves. It was our efforts to resolve this diplomatically that also led to the execution of my Speaker as you well know."

    The brief flickers of anger were enough to put Galen's blood brother, Valorcall on edge. But even as the self-proclaimed king stayed calmly neutral, though Calia imagined he was cursing up a storm inside his head.

    "I have heard of this. and yet that does not explain what you hope to gain from this meeting," Galen said sharply.

    "I was providing context, if not to yourself then to your nobles, young steward of Stromgarde," Malakk offered smoothly,

    Her mother offered a little motion of her head, not even a nod, but it was an indicator to carry on rather than rankle at the question, fine advice Calia thought. 'He's off balance and may slip up if lured in,' she thought.

    "My intentions are twin fold," he said, holding up two of three digits. "I seek to secure the South against Ironforge's eventual advance, and to halt the bloodshed in this land."

    Galen leaned into his chair, "And how do you intend to do that?"

    Malakk chuckled, "That is what we are here to discuss no?"

    The nobles of Stromgarde looked displeased, while their own side remained calm and at ease, 'We are not the one's on a schedule after all,' Calia mused.

    Evidently the silence, the underlying tension and likely Malakk's pleased grin rankled Galen and he spoke, voice high and regal. "A treaty then, between Stromgarde, yourself and the Witherbark is the intent then?"

    A noble, Claremont she thought, scoffed, "You would need to bludgeon them into submission."

    "Oh, I would never be so gauche," Malakk crooned.

    "They would not accept a treaty out of mere good manners," Galen pressed, "And you've the military force to make them heel."

    'A mistake, you admit to their strength in comparison to yours,' Calia thought.

    "I do," Malakk conceded, "but I am not in the business of adding to strife and forcing my cousins to stand down in what they view as a reclamation would be poor politics."

    "This is our land," Valorcall stressed.

    "And it is theirs," Gal'Darah chimed in, "Something can belong to more than one soul at a time, that is how families function after all."

    A scoff escaped another obscured noble's face, "You want us to join with them? I'd sooner die."

    Her mother waved to speak but did not await for permission. "I believe what the Grand Prophet meant to indicate was for as long as there have been humans in Arathi there have been trolls."

    "To prey on us," Galen said sternly, looking almost stung and his compatriots stunned and embittered by her mother's words.

    'Were they expecting our help at this late stage?'

    "And be raided themselves I am sure," Arctikus said coldly.

    Malakk motioned for silence and leaned into his throne, "If we trace every wrongdoing of history back to its inception, we shall be here longer than any of us will draw breath." Tapping his throne, he added, "I cannot promise something as simple as a negotiated treaty. It would risk violence with my cousins, is unlikely to succeed and," He motioned backwards with his head, "Would not secure the South."

    Galen steepled his fingers and leaned forward, "With the Witherbark driven back I could secure Thandol Span easily enough."

    "But would you willingly hold it?" Malakk asked sharply.

    Galen shrugged, "If it was part of a treaty."

    "Such casual airs for one discussing going to war with such a mighty foe," Malakk chuckled. "I am afraid I would need more than that to trust such a matter to Stromgarde alone, something that does not risk fading should the Bronzebeard swallow their pride and promise you lands and gold in exchange for aid."

    Valorcall nearly growled, "You think he would betray a treaty?"

    'Yes,' Calia wants to snap.

    "For the good of his people and nation?" Malakk asked quizzically, staring right into Galen's eyes, "In a heartbeat."

    A tremor of tension rippled across the Stromgardians but it was gone as soon as it came.

    Galen frowned, "If not a treaty…" Calia could practically see him wanting to tap his foot in frustration. "An accord then… An alliance between our nations. That would certainly be more permanent than a treaty and make we could ensure guarding Thandol Span was a joint affair."

    Malakk clicked his tongue in thought, "A fair idea to be sure, but I fear we would be presented with similar problems." He motioned North, "Already Zul'jin rallies the tribes to his voice, and the Witherbark would be eager to demand a price in exchange for their allegiance." The Frost King lolled his head to the side, "I would be compelled to answer of course but this would be refuting my debt unto him as well as fighting a war against my cousins with whom I would not otherwise fight. Such a decision may well turn the fates against me."

    "Would an alliance with you not still their weapons?" Galen asked, arching his brow.

    Malakk chuckled, "For a time, perhaps forever, but it is no certain thing and given the… Difficulties your kingdom has been facing, this would likely prove a costly and unpopular affair. I know afterall, of your troll hunters, I am aware of your name, your neighbors and much more. You must understand, steward of Stromgarde, how my being willing to send my warriors to die against their own cousins under such circumstances for those who might otherwise hate them would be unsustainable."

    "You speak quite boldly for one who came seeking an audience," Galen said, shoulders stiff and expression thunderous.

    Malakk's easy manner never wavered, "I came for the reasons I assured you, to secure the South and stem the tides of pointless war and woe. Were I a callous king I would leave this matter to be resolved by the Witherbark, their allies and yourselves. Doubtlessly no one is free of sin, so I could wash my hands of this sordid business with a clear mind."

    "And yet you will not accept any offer I put to you," Galen groused.

    "Because you are not making the right offers," Calia said, her tone bland but bereft of warmth or charm.

    "She speaks," One of the nobles across from them said, muttering something about stolen tongues under her breath.

    Galen looked to Malakk who merely nodded, "Please, finish your thought."

    Calia looked to Galen and took a breath, voice level and mind flooding with overheard records and statistics she spoke.

    "You make offers that are to your own benefit alone, cloaked in the guise of mutual aid; to succeed in deliberations you need offer something that cannot be taken."

    "And that would be?" Galen asked, tensing in his chair.

    Calia glanced to the Frost King and received a flicker of a smile, a signal to continue.

    "Stromgarde has been ailing for some time, the Second War struck you hard, entire villages were immigrating to Stormwind and your father refused to adapt to the changing tides."

    "You presume much," Valorcall groused.

    "I observe the truth, were this not the case the Witherbark and their ogres would pose no threat to you and the army marching on Durnholde would not have been so easily bested." Her words were bitter as she locked eyes with Galen, "You acted to take the reins of this nation and change its fate but you were too late, your enemies too prepared." She tilted her head to the side, tone growing sharp, "You are trying to treat with the Drakkari as though you are equals when in truth, this is Malakk's charity."

    "Bite your tongue!" Galen roared, flinging himself to his feet.

    He took a single hasty step forward only to still at Malakk's growled, "No."

    The prince turned traitor king's chest heaved as he drew himself back and barely bit down a hiss.

    Tapping his throne, the Frost King continued, "While harsh her words do ring with truth. Securing the South once you and the Witherbark tear each other to shreds would also be a simpler affair than this."

    "Ironforge-"

    "Would only seek you as an ally if they had no other choice and so will not help you when your kingdom is collapsing. Better they will think to leave the traitor princes to his fate and to place a puppet on the throne when all hope of victory is lost. What's more, your failure here would funnel refugees to them and weaken the Witherbark, while keeping my forces from Thandol Span." The Frost King clasped his hands, "The only way for Stromgarde to survive and to ensure the Witherbark and Ironforge do not strike it low, is to join with me."

    "Join... You..." Galen half whispered.

    Malakk opened his arms and smiled, "Become a part of my empire, retire the title of steward and become a Royal Councilors. As my subjects it will be my duty to protect you and the Witherbark will not tempt my wrath with my people as they would a terse ally."

    "We will not be your people, we are humans!" A noble snapped.

    Malakk shrugged, "Trolls, Wolvar, Tuskar, human and more are welcome in my empire, all are Drakkari, though they retain their cultures and faiths. As my Royal Councilors can well tell you."

    Calia followed in her mother's wake as she and the other Councilors rose to their feet.

    Beve spoke first, voice tinkling with laughter, "He has restored my former rank and expanded my territory, he will do the same for Stromgarde."

    Illucia steeled her shoulders, "He shattered Dalaran to save our daughter."

    Her mother clasped her hands and spoke coldly, but with resolute strength, "Our laws have not changed, our people are not sacrificed, or our faith oppressed." She shrugged, "By all rights, little has changed save who protects the kingdoms borders."

    "And what of your pride as humans!?" A nobleman seethed.

    Illucia scoffed, "Look where your pride has led you."

    Malakk rose from his throne and revealed a scroll which his lazily tossed to Galen; but Valorcall surged in front of his king and snatched it from the air.

    Malakk clasped his hands behind his back "You will find the same terms I offered your contemporaries contained within that scroll. Deliberate as much or as little as you wish."

    Galen's hand lurched to the pommel of his sword when Malakk's back turned, but the little king froze at the next words out of Malakk's mouth.

    "I am not the one pressed for time after all."

    Daelin stared from the deck of his ship, a thousand curses straining to escape his lips as Harlan Sweete and his flagship, Iron-Scythe cleaved through one of his lesser frigates and was surging passed the blockade.

    "Admiral, they will pass us by!"

    Cannons roared to life, but Iron-Scythe kept its lesser ships close, their enslaved crew howling as they were torn to shreds, astheir masters leapt into the water for safety.

    'That was enough, they will break through and rip us apart from the rear then bombard the coast!' Lesser ships had broken through but had neither the means nor the power to harass the coast let alone his vessel. Their crews could be held at bay until he returned. But the Irontide were monsters, even for pirates.

    He looked to the troll vessels and cursed them in the old tongue. Firing from afar, had held them. Cannons and Tidesages turning the waters against them, had held them. But now, with their rear lines under assault, they would not be able to hold them.

    'Our numbers are falling, the pirates are slipping through and mine is the only ship that can stop them!'

    His mind was hazy and hot, the stench of smoke and death assailing his senses. His thoughts flashed to his family and their fate in pirate hands, and he knew what decision must be made.

    "Prepare to abandoned ship, Tidesages, send us surging back, we shall split the Irontide asunder!"

    No one protested, battle was no time to think or question, only to obey, so when his crew howled, "Aye Aye Admiral!" Daelin knew he would be hearing it for the last time.

    'Let this count, let the pirates break and our navy triumph, let me save my family at least.'

    That was all he could hope for in the end.

    It was all he had.

    "Daelin's going to bite it!" The Watch tower howled and Hooktusk launched herself from her command chair, frantically swinging and scaling her way up and shoving the watcher aside to claim the enchanted spyglass.

    "Blimey he is," she murmured, nearly enraptured by the sight of the tides surging beneath the ships, pulling Kul'Tiras's pride and the Iron-Scythe closer and closer.

    She could make out the desperate attempts of enslaved and willing shaman to counter the waves, but when pitted against the best of the Tidesages they had no rebuke.

    Harlan's scheme of using smaller frigates as shields had gotten him far, but even as the last of them was dragged in front of his own It was clear the little speeder would be crushed and Proudmoore's flagship would survive.

    'They'll rip each other to shreds,' she mused, as the cannons were angled, final shots let loose as magic flew wildly and crew flung themselves from the decks only to be sucked into the writhing water, and ground to pulp!

    The pace increased, the sea spray nearly blinding, too late to stop now even if Proudmoore wanted too. The enchanted Tirasi ship rose high on a swell as if to come down like a hammer.

    Unwilling to be outdone even in his final moments Harlan, by some miracle managed to tilt his ship and ride in on the wave that spelled his doom. The Irontides gleaming steel blade striking against Proudmoores bow.

    Magic and metal dueled only for both to give way as one. Harlens' ships crumbled under the weight, hull splintering into a shower of broken beams and flying steel. But not before Proudmoore's ship was stabbed through its heart.

    Crashing down a mighty wave burst forth that would have swallowed Harlen's scream as he was crushed beneath his foes vessel, but it would not save Daelin's flagship, hull splintering and shredding itself as water flooded in, tearing the ship asunder even as it began to sink. Final cannon shots ringing out in a desperate bid to strike even one more pirate, before it split in two, the bow heaving itself into the oceans and close behind it followed the Admiral of Kul'Tiras.

    Drawing back and in a show of not entirely mock respect, Hooktusk pulled free her captains' hat and rested it on her heat, "You were always a bastard to fight, Daelin." It was as close as she could come to showing respect.

    "You think he coulda survived?"

    "No way, never."

    "He's tenacious and has the Tidemother."

    Her watchers were bickering, but Hooktusk ignored their words. Instead clasping her belt, fingers brushing over Gral's sigil, her gaze turning back to the spyglass and the flickering forms of sharks beneath the writing waves.

    Sucking in a breath she stood to her full height and bellowed. "We will press the attack! Daelin's fall has left a whirlpool but if we push forward now, his forces will have no choice but to engage us and let the pirates through. Savvy!?"

    "Aye Aye, Navarch!"

    Galen was glowering at them, which was not unusual, Lianne had rarely seen the youth look happy save for when in Danath's presence, but it had an added layer of near feral vexation it had once lacked.

    'Being laid bare as a Podunk nation will do that to one's pride I suppose.'

    Even still the boy tried to carry himself with some pride as he groused, "You demand we give up our lands to the Witherbark."

    Malakk, sounding more like a bored parent than a king in the moment toyed with a tusk and answered, "Lands you never inhabited or lost thanks with the recent exodus, but in return you shall be gifted lands outside Thoradin's wall, once part of your dominion," He shrugged, "It is a fair arrangement."

    Lianne glanced at Beve, the woman had been all too comfortable surrendering such a vast estate in Hillsbrad to her traditional rivals. 'Was this agreed on beforehand, or does she feel her understanding of Malakk is great enough she will be rewarded for her acquiescence later and if so, how?' Such was a disturbing thought, already her family's territory had been reduced to Trisfal and it was easy enough to see where Malakk may begin trimming in order to keep his collaborators happy.

    Lianne forced the thoughts from her mind, losing focus on the here and now thinking of the future would risk too much.

    Unable to argue with the logic and not in a position to make demands, Galen's sour expression was matched by his nobles. Less for the trading of land and more the fact anything was being given up to trolls she imagined.

    Finally, Galen spoke, "And you think the Witherbark will agree to this, let alone their savage pets?"

    Malakk's manner was easy and he nodded, "The Witherbark are not a popular tribe, the Ogres are not diplomatic to say it mildly. Even were they to join hands with Zul'jin he would not be fool enough to risk a war with me when his holy land lies so far away. Even if the worst were to pass he would merely demand more lenient trade terms or aid against the Elves in some far off future war."

    "Neither of which you are bereft of reason to give him, I take it?" Galen said, impressing Lianne with his quick deduction, but not with his bluntness.

    Malakk clicked his tongue, "A strong neighbor I am friends with is pleasant indeed and the elves do not strike me as terribly companiable, so you are not wrong."

    Malakk let them lapse back into silence, as Galen searched for something else to complain about, finally hitting upon another point. "Why so many of these garrisons?"

    "In case of the Dwarves, as a deterrent against the Witherbark-"

    'And Stromgarde,' Lianne mused.

    "And to oversee the study of these Circles," Malakk motioned to the stone array at his left, which Pai Stormbringer along with several troll and Wolvar scholars were exploring.

    "And your interest in those is rooted in what, may I ask?" The head of Stromgarde's mage league asked, a woman whose youthful appearance belied her age and power.

    "A fair question Magus Quinviere, Gal'Darah if you might?" Malakk intoned.

    The Grand Prophet rose to his feet, hands clasped behind his back and said, "Ever since stepping foot upon these lands our scholars of magic have been able to sense a power running through these sites. For now, our curiosity is strictly elementary, but if the energies within can be harnessed, these sights could become of great use to the empire as magical…" he struggled for a moment and settled on, "factories."

    His words clearly sent a wave of subtle intrigue across the crowd as Malakk added, "Naturally the dividends for this would be divide evenly between the empire and Stromgarde's newly restructured government to do with as you see fit."

    The 'within reason' went without saying of course.

    A brief storm of muttering washed over Stromgarde's nobles, the sounds of faint tapping along steel plating from Zol'Maz ringing in the air, subtle enough to not be a hindrance but loud enough to be heard.

    Finally, Galen turned to face them, swallowing as he stepped forward, Valorcall at his side and his noble's council standing silently at attention he spoke, tone bereft of feeling, "Frost King Malakk of the Drakkari Empire… The noble council of Stromgarde this nation, her people and the royal line of stewards that I, King Galen Trollbane lead… Accept your terms."

    With that he pressed the scroll down on a humble, if ornate oak table laid out between the camps and in sharp, bold letters signed his name and title away.

    "I am no longer king of Stromgarde, rule of the Arathi Highlands, but a Royal Councilor, of the Drakkari Empire."

    Malakk rose to his feet, taking Galen's hand in his own he clasped his shoulder gently, "This act hearkens to a new dawn for this land and her people. Today is the beginning of a long and beautiful era of prosperity for all peoples of the Drakkari Empire."

    "Welcome to the fold, Royal Councilor."

    NOTES:

    Very sorry for the late post, I don't have a good excuse I just got really wrapped up in writing an alt history timeline and forgot what day it was

    Anyway, as promised I reveal Calia's perspective and exploring her use of agency which is nice, plus Jaina is here, in a sense and we see the plans in Kul'Tiras finally enter full swing. Also yeah, Daelin's got some heavy PTSD from his son and fleet being burnt alive, which impacted his decisions. Also wow, thanks Blizzard for introducing a literal pirate fleet, this would be much harder to justify without them, as in I legit could not get away with it XD

    The discourse around Stromgarde was super hard to write, and part of me was wondering id I was going in the right direction, but some of the comments indicated people expected this path which told me I'd done the set up right so I stuck it out. I also wanted to reframe again that Galen can be a bastard but he isn't purely selfish, hence Malakk's observation about why he'd be willing to break a treaty. Anyway I hope the conclusion on that front worked, much of it relied on the fact Galen knows the Witherbark will be coming for him if he says no and that any aid from Ironforge is likely to put him in the same or even worse position than he is currently.
     
  • Threadmarks
    • Its kind of just occurred to me when editing but one thing WOW's world building makes conquest look 'easy'.

    What I mean is, in a lot of RL nations and empires outside of city states and other such sphere, you will usually have several cities, dozens even, that a person can fall back to when invaded to keep up the fight.

    In WOW, that's nominally possible, but much harder, most places have like, one big city and some medium sized towns so taking the capital is a much bigger deal, more akin to when city states warred, with this usually ending the war unless rebels popped up later.

    I imagine one could do some interesting world building on why the populations shook out this way, though broadly its a reflection of the world needing to be shrunk so it can be made, let alone explored in real time, but it does likely influence one's writing on a subconscious level, or at least mine XD
     
    So... The last chapter seems to have done pretty well likes wise and overall comments wise, but its been niggling at me that maybe I have run wild a bit with how things are progressing, Visa V, absorbing Stromgarde and my plans for Kul'Tiras.

    I was already planning on doing a sort of retrospective when this arc and to an extent the story ends, but I wonder...

    Would people like me to edit the last chapter so that Galen was basically using these negotiations as a ploy to force Ironforge to acknowledge him as king and await reinforcements?

    I can't change how the Kul'Tiras battle goes, but I can change the end results and maybe write and extra chapter or two covering it as a sort of falling action and then in the epilogue, use what's happened to set up the potential sequel.

    Overall, I do like what I have, but I can't deny that the revisions I am musing on might make for a more dynamic story, so.... Thoughts?
     
    OK so I ended up trying out that alternative scene cos I was curious:

    Lianne had been quietly observing what she expected to be either Stromgarde's swan song or sublimation with a growing sense of concern, far apart from any discord she might have felt at aiding and abetting such a state of affairs.

    For the Stromgardians had begun the meeting as expected, stiff and stern to the point of belligerence, buoyed by an unshakable sense of pride in their long legacies even as their world fell apart around them. Yet as the hours passed their sense of ease had grown, they did not carry themselves as people counting shadows on the wall, or grains of sand in an hour glass as they rightly were. It left a tension in the air, and she could not place it, save that she did not want her Calia anywhere near it.

    She looked to Malakk, seeking to spark some recognition and perhaps a recess, but his dark, imperial topaz eyes flickered to hers and there was a sense of understanding in his sharp, tattooed features. Without a word of warning-

    Malakk clapped his hands once and all froze, the Stromgardians stiffened, struck with shock and waiting to fight or go in flight, but nothing happened.

    "I believe that the matter is settled, and that we shall be on our way."

    Galen's expression fluctuated madly between shock and offence, and restrained dread, before he forced his neutral mask in place, "Begging your pardon, Frost King, but we have hardly finished speaking of specifics."

    "We have not, and yet we are done, for Ironforge marches from Thandol Span."

    "What!?" Arctikus was seething, shooting from her chair, and several Stromgarde nobles rose as if to fight, Valorcall trying to step between his liege and their contingent but Galen spoke.

    "Then assuredly, we need you aid do we not? They seek to take my lands hostage!"

    Malakk's expression could only be described as droll, his eyebrow arching lazily as he shook his head, "Order then your soldiers stationed at the city to kill those within the Gnomish Submarine that dock at your ports."

    Galen choked, it was but a moment, but it was enough, especially with the expression of some of his nobles; all the while Guinevere shuffled subtly closer, ready to evacuate her liege.

    "You reveal yourself," Malakk intoned, "Are you really so surprised I would find out? Did you really think my empires divine sponsors would let such a betrayal slip by unspoken?"

    "We-" Galen seemed to think better of it as Malakk rose to his full, gargantuan height, casting his shadow across the little king, who grasped his sword hilt, "... Are we to do battle then?"

    "Battle?" Malakk scoffed, "No I think not, we are all too close to reinforcements for it to be anything but a pointless bloodbath and I think you shall be more of a problem for the Bronzebeard than an asset in the coming days. Thus, all there is to say between us is this. Brava."

    The tension mounting among the Strongardians died in an instant, a startled cough escaping Valorcall, "What?" Galen's words were almost strangled with shock.

    Malakk smirked, "It was a masterful manipulation of my better nature, and though it shall not avail you ever again young Galen, it has certainly ensure your nation shall stand as its own," He tilted his head and that smirk became wicked, "So long as Ironforge allow it at least." He then turned to their escort and bellowed, "Travel back by the Witherbarks routes and give unto them my regards, would you?"

    "Hail, Huay Drakanni!" The Legion Chief bellowed, leaping atop Moorabi's mount which had been made ready with none the wiser, and the Gundraki Legions began to march North.

    Pai Stormbringer materialized before them, arcane energies pulsing around her, runes flared across the ground and Lianne braced for the-

    The world was light and motion and swirling sensations of nothing and everything before suddenly, she simply 'was' again, standing in the palace libraries, within the runic circles designed to ease teleportation.

    A Nerubian rattled and crackled, "We strain the nexus ways too much with this."

    "We shall ease up, I assure you," Malakk said airily, striding out of the circle and pitting Pai on the back with a hand so large it encompassed her whole being, "Marvelous timing, very theatrical."

    "I live to serve my liege," The mage chuckled.

    The easy air was broken by Arctikus's hissing, "We were played for fool, Malakk, what was the point of all this just to surrender at the last moment?"

    "I concur, my liege," Illucia added, "Why are you so at ease with all this?"

    Zol'Maz was next, "We have offended our cousins and gained nothing."

    Lianne could see sharp dividing lines forming, and moved to slide Calia and herself from the altercation, but before any would speak in his defense of to his detriment, Malakk spoke. "Now, now, I would hardly say we have gained nothing, one merely needs to view it through a political lens," His voice was sure and steady as stone.

    He turned to face them, arms folding behind his back, "While it surely would have been a pleasure to add Stromgarde as a new Dominion, or leave the lands to the Witherbark, duty demanded an accounting." HE gaze drifted to Illucia "For you see my lady, though your family may have welcomed the destruction of Dalaran, that act has done much to damage our reputation, both here and my own back home. To remedy this, I sought a peaceful note to end this campaign on."

    He motioned to the side with an almost careless air, "That has not happened, but from it we emerge as the righteous, which shall reminded again my followers of the nature of our foe, one that would kill diplomats and betray treaties. What's more, with a treasonous king on the throne and the Witherbark now certain to rally with Zul'jin the South shall be a bitter battle zone we need not spend soldiers on Instead, we can focus on shoring up Thoradin's Wall, though."

    He tilted is head to the side, "I should ensure a tasteful gift accompanies those cannons on their way to the Witherbark, it is only good manners."

    "You... Planned this?" Gal'Darah intoned, his voice growing in adoring praise, "Such a brilliant maneuver your majesty, driving the Witherbark into Zul'jin's arms, and ensuring he is bound to the South in our place and cannot march North as of yet, all while leaving a viper in the Alliance's den!"

    Malakk mock bowed, "It was one of many plans; but still, I must thank you all for your stellar participation."

    Beve's murmured "Magnificent" was just loud enough to hear.

    Before anyone else could speak a Nerubian clicked and clacked, "This is a working station, please leave us, your grace."

    Malakk chuckled, "Forgive us the time we spent lingering, come my friends, let us go and enjoy a night of revelry as we have nothing scheduled."

    With the growing anger and confusion diffused, their party slowly filed out of the chamber and began dispersing across the castle.

    Callia looked to her, "Mother, do you believe that was really the plan?"

    "Whether or not it was, it is what happened, and that is al there can be to it."

    Calia watched her, gaze more astute than ever, as she nodded slowly, "Yes mother."
    _________________________________________

    Malakk nearly slammed into his throne with a guttural groan, claws tracing along the stone as his head lolled back.

    "Not the plan I take it?" Bith'Sa asked, only she and Kutube'sa in his company now.

    "Not even a little," Malakk grunted, "Cunning little devil, I should have simply offered him the chance to surrender, no negotiations, no nothing." Moorabi would have told him to do that, or suggest he just send a Speaker, told him he was growing too flamboyant and flighty, Moorabi-

    Kutube'sa clapped him on the shoulder, "You recovered well at least, I think only some suspect and even then, they can only suspect."

    Bith'Sa nodded, "He speaks rightly, and this shall ease tensions at home I am thinking. So, it is not all bad."

    Malakk chuckled, a hand resting over his eyes, "If you two are in agreement either you must be right, or the worlds end is neigh."

    "We aren't that bad," Kutube'sa cried.

    "We honestly are," Bith'Sa countered.

    "Do not agree with that!"

    Malakk's laugh was low and weak, but it was real and for now that would be enough.
    _________________________________________

    Galen sat upon his throne, and stared down at the Dwarf before him, Vanndar Stormpike was an intimidating figure in his mighty armor and brutal expression. His Gnomish counterpart, a sprightly creature with pink hair by the name of Master Tinker Trini, somewhat less so.

    "I confess, steward, I had thought you would be making good on your word to bring us the trolls king," Vanndar intoned gruffly.

    Galen shrugged, "I cannot be faulted that his spies or his gods, or mere scouts saw signs of your armies march."

    Vanndar's glare intensified, but Trini was the one who spoke, "Whatever the case, you made the right decision your grace to reach out to us your grace; knowing the Drakkari intended to reach so far, helped cooler heads prevail."

    "I am heartened to hear that Master Tinker," Galen said airily, "and though I imagine things shall be tense for a time; I hope that soon we shall be able to move forward with purpose."

    There were few people with them in the throne room, save for Valorcall and his chief sniper, so he did not protest Vanndar's next words, "Just remember Steward, we look right poorly at kin-slaying, no matter what you may claim led to it. Our king shall stand by Stromgarde for the time being, but we shall broker no more scheming on your part."

    Galen could hear the bells ringing outside and nodded, "If things are to be in your hands, I assume you shall be dealing with the army marching to Stromgarde's doorstep?"

    The pair glanced back just in time to see a messenger stride through the sealed doors, "My grace, honored guests, the trolls and their ogres seem to be rallying for a second attempt on the walls."

    Vanndar snorted, "Let us go put the fear of the Light back into these savages- Ah!" The walls rumbled and Galen stiffened at the realization, that somehow his foe had garnered canons, powerful one's by his reckoning.

    "Where n the bloody pits did they get canons?" Vanndar hissed, as they began to marched out the doors, as troops began to rally and his own cannons fired back.

    Sucking in a breath, Galen sighed, "Make ready, tonight, we don't just fight to take this city, but to keep it."

    "Yes my king."
     
    The Torrents of War: Part 7 - Blood in the Water & the Streets
  • Threadmarks
    • The Torrents of War: Part 7 - Blood in the Water & the Streets​

    Priscilla sat, comfortable but not at ease upon the balcony of her coastal home in Boralus; while laid out before her from her position perched precariously on the hills surrounding the city was chaos. Smoke hung in the air even as the fires had been quenched, and the distant sound of cannons and flash of magic told her the battle was still ongoing.

    Knight Captain Valyri practically vibrated at her side, "Milady, news is coming from the front."

    "It is about time," She muttered, placing her teacup down with nary a clink. 'I poured my entire fortune and then some into this war.' The thought of being destitute was a nightmare, but she could not fear, 'When I am queen of Kul'Tiras I shall owe no one anything and claim whatever I wish.'

    She turned to face the mustachioed face of Commodore Calhoun, daggers at his side and hat held over his heart he knelt before her.

    "Report," she said bluntly.

    "As you will madam," A flicker of a smirk on his lips, "Don Adams forces are holed up but far from dead. Captain Hartford, sends his regards and claims Drustvar has been in chaos thanks to the Red Hand and I hear upon the grapevine no small number of witches have taken to the field of their own accord." His smirk grew and he added, "What's more, your pirate friends have made landfall and the trolls are cutting through the rest of Daelin's navy."

    A sharp laugh escaped her lips as she rose to her feet, "Magnificent, let the navy burn I say they never would have joined hands with us and now that Waycrest will be distracted with the pirates we can make our move."

    She froze in her step and added, "Do we know if Daelin is dead?"

    Calhoun nodded, "He sacrificed his ship to destroy the Irontide's before being swallowed in the currents as our scouts report it. If the roiling waters and crash didn't kill him the hundreds of sharks brought by the savages did."

    Huffing, she waved for them to follow her, their march was brief, the ground floor of her summer home crowded with gathered privateers and mercenary captains while outside hundreds more were scattered around in magically cloaked camps.

    Slapping the banister, she cheered, "The pirates have landed, the streets are in chaos and Proudmoore Keep lays open and waiting!"

    "Huzzah!" They cheered.

    "Now we begin our stage of the plan, a full-scale assault on the Proudmoore's last bastion. We shall send that keep tumbling to the ground and with it end their reign. The echoing sounds of their fall shall signal my rise, to queen of Kul'Tiras!"

    "Hail to Queen Ashvane!" They roared.

    She slapped the railing, "Five hundred gold for every Proudmoore brought to me dead and twice that for alive, now rally your forces, our victory is at hand!"

    "Hail your majesty!" Some cheered, as her forces raced out the doors.

    Valyri motioned to speak and Priscilla watched a manic grin spread on the knight captains face, "Does that mean?"

    "Yes," Priscilla chuckled, "tonight we both get to see Proudmoore Keep go up in flames; ready your explosive and my elite guard!"

    "Yes, my queen!" She cheered, racing off.

    "Calhoun stay with me; I may have need of your services before this battle is done."

    The man tipped his hat and chuckled, "Aye aye your grace."

    Jaina bit back a gasp as a resounding boom echoed in the air and the walls began to shake.

    "Is it pirates!?" Tandred called, pressing himself to her side, as she clutched her stave and held it before them protectively.

    "I don't know, Tandred, mother will know what to do though, I am sure," she said hastily, not able to really believe her own words. Not when just days a few weeks ago she had been in the halls of impenetrable Dalaran, now a fallowed husk.

    Tandred nodded, trying to be brave, as Jaina used her free arm to sling around his shoulder as another blast rocked the keep.

    Before Jaina could even make it to the door of the safe room to ask the guards after her mother, the woman herself threw open the door, a thunderous expression on her face and fresh armor adorning her frame.

    "Mother what's happening!?" Tandred cried.

    Kneeling she grasped his shoulders and sighed though it sounded more like seething, "Pirates have landed but we now know why. Ashvane has betrayed us, and her retainers now lay siege to the keep."

    Jaina's eyes were so wide it almost hurt, her staff pulsing with anxious energy as the room began to chill and Tandred gasped, "But she-"

    "Is a traitor now, nothing more, the damned woman will see this nation destroyed rather than let us lead it, but we shall make her pay for every step," their mother assured.

    "Can I help?" Jaina asked, tapping her staff on the ground.

    Their mother spoke slowly, "The Ashvane's know every secret escape hatch and with Dalaran fallen and her mages make teleportation is too unreliable." She scowled, "We will all have no choice but to fight."

    Jaina swallowed, she had only ever wanted to study and now she might be butchered in her own home.

    "But not just yet," Their mother assured, "The wards are holding strong and our cannoneers have great skill, just… Be ready and remember…" Her mother stilled, the words seemingly like a pain to force out, "It is better to sink beneath the waves than to fall into a pirates' hands."

    Tandred looked confused, but Jaina understood and bit back her tears to answer in as steady voice as she could manage, "They will not get to us mother… I promise."

    "Good girl, brave girl," She whispered, kissing each of them on the brow and telling Tandred how strong he was.

    "Wait here, if they come, Jaina you know what must be done and if the chance to escape comes… Take it."

    "Where are you going?" Tandred whimpered.

    Their mother turned, hand on her saber, "To gut Priscilla."

    Lord Arthur Waycrest swooped through the air on the back of his gryphon, the recently arrived trolls on their dragon's proving sturdy if unimaginative foes.

    'Damned things are tough as any dragon though!' He thought, guiding Bertram into a pass by another dragoon and slashing at the beasts' tattered wings before they could sweep out of the way. With a cheer he watched the monster began to careen down even as the battle raged around him.

    A sharp shriek stung his ears and Bertam swerved in the air drawing his gaze to Proudmoore Keep.

    His eyes widened at the sight of a small army marshaled just out of cannon range, arraying cannons, catapults, and explosives in conjunction with magic to encircle the tower. Ripping open the earth to uncover secret passageways as armed and sharply dressed privateers charged on his rear guard.

    "Ashvane, I might have known!" He cursed, gaze flicking to the approaching troll fleet as the screams and shouts of battle echoed below. The rioters from earlier having returned to the fray with renewed vigor thanks to the pirates landing; thus, ensuring the battle lines could not be drawn anywhere, denying him even the chance at turning the ruined docks into a choke point.

    'They are dividing your forces, many will die, it does not have to be…'

    Arthur clasped his Tidemother's tributary dagger and the inky voice from the depths of his mind faded; any good child of Kul'Tiras knew better than to make deals with strange whispers after all.

    'We still outnumber them, if we can get this under control before the trolls arrive, we can hold out, we have to!'

    Raising his sword high he roared, "Champions of Kul'Tiras, fight on! Given them no quarter, show the no mercy!" Before diving back into the fray.

    From her vantage point outside Proudmoore Keep, Priscila frowned, "I half expected the loyal lapdog to come running at the sight of his master's peril."

    Don Adam and his creepy little creature looked to her as the man scowled, "Will that cause a problem?"

    "No, not in the long run," She answered dully, gaze locked on the keep, "the dragoons are quite a spot of good luck if I do say so myself, it would have been difficult to lay siege and fight the Gryphons off at once."

    "Then why plan on it?" He scowled.

    "Because no one deserves to see the Proudmoore's die more than I," she snapped.

    The man huffed, "I can think of many-"

    "Petty criminals?" she snapped, "The poor, the flogged, the children of the hung? You speak of common folk with common pains and base desires. They cannot comprehend the pain the rips its way through my noble heart."

    The mocking look on the man's face made her want to strike him, she towered over him, it would be easy enough but… Knowledge his followers would tear her kingdom apart stilled her hand. 'One day soon, when I am queen, you shall not look so smug,' she promised, before turning back to the Keep as a messenger raced up to her.

    "My queen," the privateer murmured awkwardly, "We, uh, engaged Kathrine Produmoore-"

    "And lost her I take it?" she sneered.

    "Uh, in a sense," He answered, "We sent a force through the tunnels you mentioned… She and her elite guard killed them all and used the dynamite gifted to them by the Knight Captain to collapse the entry way."

    "Damned woman, too cunning for her own good… Still, if she knew to predict that…. Yes, contact the demolition teams, see if we can lure her into a trap. If worst comes to worst all her escape routes will be in tatters and I will get to watch them starve to death or be ripped out as if from a clam."

    "Yes ma'am!" He snapped a salute and raced off before she could correct him and ordered him flogged.

    'Oh well,' she thought fanning herself, 'there will be time for that, there will be time for so much when I am queen.'

    In the distance, the Drakkari Fleet was breaking through the last holdouts in the blockade.

    As the last of Proudmoore's fleet shattered before Malakk's Might, Hooktusk let the gong ring, echoing across the air as they ripped through the lingering wreckage and surged towards Boralus.

    She couldn't deny the sight of the pirate hunting capital of the world in such disarray and devastation didn't stir her heart. Soon the bastion of those would take the sea from the free and hang them to the last would be in the hands of those they so loathed.

    But a much larger part of herself that knew she had a job to do and a lifetime of professional piracy wherein she always put an emphasis on plunder in place of pillaging meant she was rankling at the sight at the sight of Boralus.

    'Getting this under control is going to be a nightmare.'

    "Send word to Flynn, I want him and his crew to spread out among our forces to help corral the Tirasi and the pirates, we want to secure the city not burn it to the ground!"

    "Hail Navarch, but the docks are too crowded!"

    Snarling she tapped her cannon, gaze drifting across the sea, "Send the Shadowglen's Turtle Riders ahead with as many troops as they can carry. The rest of you, order every captain to spread our ships out, form a blockade, one that will keep the pirates in too! Then have the shamans freeze the waters, we'll march on them!"

    "Hail Navarch!"

    Turning back to Boralus she ran a hand along her neck, before hefting her cannon over her shoulder, "Time to finish this, one way or another."

    Stromgarde Keep was not nearly so accommodating as Lordaeron's castle, Malakk was finding. The halls were ancient, if often remodeled. But the foundations laid were not designed to support megastructures and so while it was well suited for humans, it was less comfortable for a troll.

    Still, Malakk was finding it a suitable place to visit, the view of the ocean from the West Balcony was especially lovely, letting him look across the vast seas from the hilltop. Galen was hovering a frown held back just barely as Ojin'ba stood on the other side of the balcony rictus snarl on her lips.

    "You side with these humans over us," she said coldly.

    "I protect my subjects. Within my dominions, all are Drakkari," Malakk said with a gentle but grand tone.

    "Our lands-"

    "Are twice what they were even six months ago," he said bluntly. "They now connect directly to your city in the Hinterlands and will not be touched by human hands again and all this without blood needing to be spilled."

    The fact she obviously would have rathered blood be shed notwithstanding Malakk knew when someone was just being petulant and was fine with waiting out the Witherbark.

    "The other tribal leaders will not like this."

    "Yet they will agree," Malakk chuckled.

    "And Zul'jin?" She asked, waving a recently arrived scroll bearing his sigil.

    "If he had any intent of fighting for this land you would have shared it with us," Malakk shrugged, "Besides, he is not fool enough to expend so much to claim this place when the holy land beckons." Seeing a messenger hawk flying in, Malakk sighed, "Honored Ojin'ba, the war is over, enjoy your winnings."

    "This summer of peace will not last," She intoned, before stalking off, followed by her elite guards.

    Galen shifted closer, "You heard her."

    "Words only mean so much, she is not stupid enough to risk such a war us and Zul'jin would never support it," Malakk said, holding out his arm. "She knows what would be at stake and what would be lost if war were declared. Far more likely she'd try to goad you into landing the first blow, but you are much to canny for that, yes?"

    "Of course," Galen grumbled, marching to the small table, and finishing his tea.

    Malakk took the letter and let the hawk fly but did not break the seal, his ears instead twitching as several foot falls echoed in the hallway and rounded on them.

    "Joyous day, Frost King Malakk!" Gal'Darah cheered, "It seems Xex'Mon has resolved out orc problem."

    "Oh? And how did he do that?" Malakk asked, facing his advisors, in particular Gal'Darah and a very pleased looking Beve.

    "Is this to do with the one's that raided our camps?" Galen asked.

    Beve chuckled, "In fact it is, dear Councilor, it seems the Orcs who laid low your nations internments camp had no connection with our forces."

    "And how is that?" he asked leaning on the balcony.

    "Because," Gal'Darah said, idly toying with a weather beaten scroll. "They were led by Orgrim Doomhammer and some fellow by the name of Hellscream as well an old Shaman bearing the title Frostwolf."

    Malakk arched his brow, "I have studied the histories of the Second War, and only vaguely recognize those names."

    Both Galen and Gal'Darah shrugged, while Beve waved her hand, "Hellscream was one of the raid leaders who struck after the Dark Portal was first reconstructed. He and his clan were left behind; given father worked with the Horde in the past he thought an alliance could be struck but the Warsong clan apparently saw little worth in human allies."

    Galen scoffed but kept his peace.

    Gal'Darah however nodded, "That concurs with what the missive claims. Apparently the Frostwolves were banished orcs from some time in their First Invasion who hid within a valley on Alterac. They used the chaos of our invasion to liberate several camps in a bid to rebuild the Horde, but their numbers were too few and they left so many behind because of weakness."

    "An unlikely path to success," Malakk chided, "If you leave your most vulnerable to die no one has reason to follow."

    "Wise words, Frost King Malakk," Gal'Darah intoned before continuing. "It seems they realized our Orc Legions numbers would be substantial and so sought to lead them astray, ambushing them in Alterac. However, one of Xex'Mon's commanders challenged their leaders to a type of single combat."

    "I take it he won?"

    "He did, at great personal risk and offending the Warsong chief, leading to an unwarranted attack, this displeased the spirits invoked by the Frostwolf and led to dissension among the rebel Horde's ranks."

    Beve chuckled, "Soon enough they were rioting, fighting each other as much as our forces, it was a route. Now this would be Horde is scattered to the wind, with only the Warsong's leader unaccounted for while the rest lay dead in the snow or have surrendered under the guidance of the Frostwolves."

    "And our casualties?" Malakk asked.

    "Last census says some five percent of the Orcish Legions," Gal'Darah answered.

    "A tragedy to be sure, but far less than if the battle had turned into a war and it seems this matter is now near resolves, including to our native ally's satisfaction I take it?"

    Beve smirked, "They are well pleased to have the Frostwolves making ready for Northrend along with the rest of their people."

    "Marvelous, we will still need to be wary of this Hellscream and his followers, lest they become a threat to the good people of my empire."

    Gal'Darah bowed, "Chieftain Xex'Mon has already sent out scouts and trackers though he has not the numbers for a full sweep of the lands."

    "Let the good Chieftain and his followers focus on themselves for now, that we might begin moving them all to Northrend sooner rather than later." he clapped his hands, "As for now, I think for the matter can be declared settled. Thus we can turn all our focus to Kul'Tiras and then finally put an end to this ghastly war."

    "As you say, Frost King Malakk," His councilors intoned, Galen a little behind them.

    "And speaking of Kul'Tiras," Malakk said, finally unfurling the missive he had received several minutes ago he began to read.

    His easy grin fading and Malakk rose to his full height, voice was sharp and cold, "Contact the arcanists, we are leaving for Kul'Tiras."
     
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    The Torrents of War: Finale (Deleted Chapter)
  • Sidestory
    • The Torrents of War: Finale​

    Hooktusk raced across roof tops, soldiers leaping and bounding behind her.

    Tiles cracked and wood strained beneath their weight, but Boralus was built to survive Hurricanes so it could withstand this blizzard of Drakkari.

    A distantly familiar figure in an oversized green coat with golden hair and a saber in his grip was at the head of a horde of toughs who struck a sealed door with a battering ram.

    "Come on loves, open up, be neighborly!" The leader cheered.

    "Jolly!" Hooktusk shouted, leaping from the rooftop, and slammed down onto the bloodied street.

    The lad turned and puffed up his collar, "Its Captain Jolly since the last took a harpoon to the chest. How about you, Hooktusk, haven't seen you since-

    "The Battles of Booty Bay," She finished, "I know and I'm here to tell ya to stop wasting time on the damn banks. We need to secure the perimeter. Move yer forces up to Hook Point ."

    "And leave the banks for you lot?" He scoffed.

    "Like I give a shit about petty gold," Hooktusk snapped, "You got yer orders now move."

    Bristling the little captain spat, "And why should I?"

    Hooktusk flicked her cannon out from beneath her coat and heard Jolly and his crew screech as they made to dodge her shot, only to open fire on the ground between them. The roaring explosion of force and sound battered at her protective charms, while throwing the humans to the ground.

    Marching over to Jolly she yanked him to his feet and said, "Because I am not asking."

    "Ash-Ashvane will hear of this," He seethed.

    "HAHAHA! You think Ashvane will be running this ship when all's said and done? Look around lad!" She shoved him back and threw back her head in a sharp call, "Drakkari, sound off!"

    A resounding chorus of thuds and perfectly in time chants burst across the air as loud as any cannon, "HAIL! NAVARCH!" as they began leaping from the roof tops and lining the streets.

    Pointing towards Hook Point, she reiterated, "Help our forces secure the area and await further orders."

    Snorting, the pirate nodded, "Come on lads and lassies, let's get this over with and get paid."

    "Hey where's Captain Raoul?" she called after the other pirates.

    "Sorry. Not in my job description!" Jolly cackled.

    Huffing she clicked her fingers, "You lot line up along the streets, anyone tries to shank you shank them, otherwise leave-em be."

    A caw rang out and she jumped back just in time to avoid the charred corpse of a griffon cracking on the stone street.

    "And watch out for the weather!"

    Flynn's race into Boralus had become a calm gait as he, half his crew and a legion of Ice Trolls marched into Mariner's Row. Only to find that fighting had clearly been sparse after some well-placed explosives took out the gates.

    The reason why became evident the moment he caught sight of small pointed ears and glowing blue eyes, 'Half Elves and High Elves, well this makes sense.'

    He held his arm aloft and said, "No further, this will be peaceful."

    "You know this lot?" The Drakkari commander he'd been loaned asked.

    "Yes, Thalo'dan's Privateers, a good crew," He cupped his hands and shouted, "I wish to speak with your captain!"

    The assortment of High Elves and Half elves had secured several streets and while carrying themselves as if at ease, their sharp expressions and hands resting on weapons belied the tension and simmering anger. Within buildings civilians huddled together, and the local guard forces not swept away in the gate's destruction lay dead by pirate hand.

    Flynn was drawn from his observations by a gentle, in pirate terms, and smooth voice, richly civilized like imitation silk, "Ah if it is not the gentle Captain Fairwind," Captain Thalo'thas Brightsun nearly sang, striding out of a bar.

    "It is I, captain Brightsun," He said with a bow, "I am glad to see you and your crew well."

    The High Elf flicked his flowing mane over his shoulder and chuckled, "How heartening it is to hear you worry after my health, such a charming lad."

    Flynn most certainly did not flush, he was too old to be taken in by the man's teasing and bare chest, but were he a few years younger… "It is only natural to worry after comrades, besides you and yours are a better lot than most. Still, I cannot help but see you've not moved from the staging area though you've the means."

    A wave of… Something drifted across the crowd, mostly in the ears and subtle flaring of the eyes, among a million other quirks too subtle for a street lad like himself to pick up. Elves were notoriously subtle in their manner and even the half elves among them held this true.

    "Yes, well I am afraid lady Ashvane did not explicitly inform us for whom this battle was being orchestrated, though perhaps the fault lies with me for overestimating her ambition," he sighed.

    Flynn shrugged, "I don't doubt her ambition, but perhaps we all underestimated how much she wished to see Proudmoore and his brood suffer," he had little love for the family that hung his mother but Boralus hadn't needed to burn for her revenge.

    "Perhaps so," Thalo'thas said, looking across the crowd of trolls.

    "Will this pose a problem going forward?" Flynn finally said eyeing the crossbow wielding elves scattered cross the rooftops.

    "Not today," Thalo'thas chuckled, "My crew are swift, strong and smart dear Flynn but even we cannot turn the tides here and though this displeases me I cannot say fighting for Kul'Tiras would thrill me either. Too many bright souls of the seas extinguished by their hand in days long past."

    "I see, in that case we can leave this area exclusively under your command until things calm down and you can take your payment."

    "May that moment come swiftly, this air does my constitution no favors," Thalo'thas said.

    The next moment there was a scream as a dragon careened out of the air; it met the distant street with a crash and a dying roar, smoke beginning to billow into the air.

    "It landed on a home!" Flynn cried.

    "We must get there at once!" The lieutenant answered.

    Nodding, he barely acknowledged Thalo'thas as he and his soldiers raced off towards the Crosswind Commons.

    Watching them go, Thalo'thas quirked his brow and murmured, "What an odd bunch."

    Katherine Proudmoore stood within the main foyer of the Keep, dragon-scale armor adorning her frame and a hand on the pommel of her blade.

    Lord Stormsong stood at her side, resting heavily on his cane, eyes sunken and the usual warmth in his visage faded.

    'The Tidemother's tone has grown distant and discordant he said,' Katherine mused.

    She tried to take her, and her lieutenants minds off the army rallying around the keep, "How's our munitions!?"

    Cannoneer Graves saluted, "Ever since we bombarded the traitors from on high our munitions are… Lower than I would like, but still plentiful enough to put up a fight. It was a dab plan ma'am, using our elevated position to rain down on their own cannons."

    "She had not the time nor the numbers to erect truly worthwhile barriers, would that we had struck Priscilla as well," Katherine groused.

    "All to true, ma'am, still," The stout, long haired man said, "We are ready to give any attacking force the fight of a lifetime. Once they grow a backbone and try again at least, though…"

    "Yes, I am aware, if they make their way past our roof cannons, we will struggle to stall their advance; still, better to take their long-range weapons when we had the element of surprise."

    Graves nodded, as lieutenant Amora raced in and knelt, "Ma'am, we fought off another raiding party from the tunnels, but we had to trigger a cave in to stop their advance."

    "A fair decision, I expect they will make for the East escape tunnel next. Once the next round of charges is rigged, send half your forces there to lay down covering fire, stall their advance for as long as possible."

    "As you command ma'am."

    "We have movement!" Lieutenant Benedict shouted, the bald, armored man was racing down the stairs and promptly saluted her. "It is as we feared milady, they are dividing themselves into tightly knit platoons, using the cover of shield fire and magic; they will try approach the Keep."

    "They must have commissioned a small cadre of powerful casters and senior Tidesages in their employee if that is their plan," Stormsong's words were like a guttural hiss of contempt.

    "One cannot accuse Priscilla of hiring incompetence, nor for failing to learn from her mistakes," Katherine answered, hand on her chin. "They likely have explosives, or perhaps a battering ram. Whatever the case, we cannot allow them to approach."

    "Ma'am?"

    "They have not yet had the time to roll in new cannons, the few remaining cannot get close enough to do more than irritate us." She let a savage smirk play on her lips, "Let the traitors come, and we shall dip our blades in their blood."

    Benedict's chest swelled with pride as he saluted, "As you command!"

    Priscilla watched the battle through her opera glasses, a smirk on her lips as she saw several platoon tearing through the firing line without their courage or bodies breaking.

    'Take her, take her!' She wanted to cheer. The thought of Katherine desperately trying to dig her way-out form collapsed stone, of seeking some little compartment to cower in with her children as soldiers advanced was like fine wine.

    Then the doors of the Keep burst open and Katherine's silver touched hair flashed into sight as she led the charge of green bedecked soldiers and robed Tidesages in a mad charge forward.

    "What!?"

    Her Knight Captain Valyri squinted, "Must not want to waste cannons ma'am, and they've the forces to match what few platoons can break through, for now at least."

    Priscilla barely heard her, gaze locked solely on Katherine and she darted forward like a viper. Tidesages and Hydromancers broke the magical barriers and the advancing platoon began floundering as she crashed against the foremost shield-wall and thrust her blade inside.

    Priscilla couldn't hear the scream of pain, but her husband's howl echoed in her mind; nails drawing blood from her hands.

    "Cannoneers, can we hit her!?" She hissed.

    "No, your grace, at this distance and with their magical support we'd be little more than a hindrance," Valyri said.

    "Then send in more soldiers, send in all of them if you must, overwhelm her!"

    Valyri stared at her wide eyed, "My- My queen, our plan will work, we can wear them out, we can smuggle bombs closer and weaken the foundations as we have been doing, Proudmoore Keep will fall."

    Priscilla grabbed the smaller woman's chest plate and dragged her forward to hiss in her face.

    'I don't want her dead later; I was her dead now. I want her screaming head on a pike after she's watches me bash her children's skulls in on rocks!'

    What fell from her mouth was, "The- The trolls have arrived, which means their king will be fast approaching, we must see this done now, so we can give him a pacified Kul'Tiras. Do what must be done, or I shall find someone who will."

    The hurt look on Valyri's face should have pained her, it might have once but no longer and after a moment the woman nodded and turned away.

    Drawing her sword, she shouted, "The enemy commander had revealed herself; they cannot fire on their own this is our best chance! So, charge with me if you want to see even one copper!"

    The crowd roared, but not with enthusiasm, shields being raised as ranks were formed, some greedy few racing forward, "The fewer survivors the bigger the cuts!" Another crowed and her soldiers began to march.

    Priscilla saw the look of horrified shock flash across Katherine's face and smiled.

    The winds blowing across Malakk's Might deck were raw and humid; the air still stank even as the flames vanished and the screeching battles in the skies began to grow fainter.

    Hackles began to stand on end as the air on deck began to shuffle and roil, weapons were readied as a flash of light burst to life and vanished just a swiftly, leaving a Nerubian standing in its wake.

    "What brings one of yours here?" A soldier groused.

    "I am but the beacon for the portal that shall bring forth the Legions of Gundrak," They answered, voice a gentle hiss in their minds as its claws danced and their body swayed. Arcane runes spiraled in the air and on the grounds as large crystals adorning the Nerbuian vanished into spectral powder, devoured by the hungry spell.

    Behind them, a blistering gateway of white and purple split the air and formed a mighty rift in reality; the sound of marching feet echoing across the deck before the first soldier could even be seen.

    As the glow faded, it was replaced by the sight of Lordaeron's palace. A Legion of Grim faced Drakkari soldiers, Word Priests, shamans, and elite guards marched behind their Frost King.

    "Come my warriors, it is time we put an end to this sordid affair."

    "As you command, Frost King Malakk!"

    Priscilla's grin was earsplitting.

    The cannons had run empty or been broken by her casters and bombers, the battle was nearing its apex, and she had even moved her elite guard forward to better watch the spectacle of Proudmoore's demise as close as she dared.

    Katherine's forces were locked outside their own fortress, terribly aware that they had taken too long to fall back and would not be able to seal the doors. Would not be able to lay waste to enough of her privateers to stop them from pressing against the walls like flood water swarming around a tower in the lowlands.

    Katherine's sword was broken, she lashed out with ruined saber and sharp dagger, unwilling to fallback, unwavering and unyielding to the last. It could almost be called brave, but Priscilla could not comprehend such a thought in relation to her hated foe, so it was mere desperation and arrogance.

    'Soon, soon I'll get to hear you wail as I did!'

    Then, through the haze of blood and smoke a voice rough as stone and sharp as a howling wind tore across the battlefield, freezing every soldier and crushing her heart like a vice.

    "ENOUGH!"

    Ashvane's heart still, she flung herself around, eyes widening as she saw a mountainous troll at the head of hundreds, nay thousands of his kindred; bedecked in royal garments and marching through her rearguards, any in his way moving aside as if pushed by the wind itself.

    "You... You are the Frost King Malakk then?" She asked with a hasty curtsy.

    "I am," he answered tersely, marching passed her command station, arms clasped behind his back, "And what is all this?"

    Confused, but eager, she answered, "I am culling the last remnants of resistance against you, to end this war."

    He looked around, brow arched and arms waving lazily, "The war is already over, Lady Ashvane, the fleet has been sunk, the towns and cities taken, there is no army, no threat to be found here."

    Her mouth opened and closed slowly as she sought the word, "I... Frost King Malakk, the Proumoore family still resides there, as do the head of the Tidesages and other dissidents."

    "I am well aware of that, but to massacre a foe who has fallen to their knees from exhaustion and wounds are actions befitting one desperate and beastly, while I, I am the king victorious and will not see more needless life lost amongst my own forces when these brave soldiers should be celebrating or having their wounds tended to."

    Her privateers march had stalled, stunned confusion washing across the crowd, a fierce vexation flooded her mind, and Ashvane asked, "Do you intend to have them surrender to you and rule in your name!?"

    "Hardly," he countered dismissively, "The noble families, priests and retainers shall be captured without need for further death and moved to Gundrak to be judged either for crimes against honor in war or simply to live as, I believe your term is royal hostages? It is an imperfect translation, but it is suited here."

    "They shall not surrender easily!" She reasoned desperately. He could not take this from her, he could not!

    "No, the streets littered with corpses show that much," the veiled hint of anger did not hang in the air for long but it chilled Ashvane to her bones even as he continued fore carefree. "Fortunately, they shall not have a say in the matter, their king proclaims this keep shall be taken without loss of life and it shall. Gal'Darah!"

    A purple maned troll in ornate wooden armor and bedecked in glowing trinkets came to his side and bowed, "Yes Frost King Malakk?"

    "Our foes are few and their defenses falling, so lull our foes to sleep, that we do not lose any more brave souls this day."

    The troll smirked, "These Tidesages have suffused their defenses with the cursed magics, so this shall be a simple matter." he turned back to the amassing Drakkari army surrounding her own forces and bellowed, "Word Priests, encircle the keep in idols and chant with me!"

    Katherine raised her sword high, "Fall back and brace for a siege!"

    As Priscilla's forces made to race forward a sharp "Cease!" from Malakk cut through their ranks and stilled their step, letting Proudmoore slip away and seal the doors.

    "You can't-" Priscilla froze as something faintly familiar but infinitely ominous danced at the edge of her senses.

    Glowing runes bleeding their way into the air, atop the idols and upon the keep like wounds on reality itself and the sound of deep voiced trolls chanting in words that made her ears ache echoed on the winds before the was an almost audible snap and for a moment a wave of force that was not force washed over the Keep. Priscilla could see its spell work being peeled away as the strange light she could not name flowed through the walls and a sound like a trapped scream in glass brushed her ears and faded just as fast.

    Silence reigned before Malakk spoke, "First Legion of Gundrak, secure those within the tower in my flagship, take Royal Councilor Lianne with you, I want a headcount on who still lives that I know whose kin to contact."

    A sharp bellow, "As you command, Frost King Malakk!" was announced by the soldiers.

    Priscilla was gob smacked to see Lianne, bedecked in colors matching Malakk's own but still bearing the sigil of Lordaeron marching at the head of twin columns that easily parted her tired privateers before ripping the doors off their hinges and hunching over to surge inside. She saw faint flashes of resistance but too few to be called a real battle, whatever the Drakkari had done it had overwhelmed too many for those that remained to fight.

    Malakk's piercing orange eyes drifted to her, his tone almost casual, but not quite so he asked, "I understand Katherine survived and Daelin is dead, can you name any others who have fallen?"

    Choking back a scream of frustration as she saw an unconscious Katherine being carried out of the Keep on a stretcher, she answered, "Lord Stormsong lives, but Waycrest perished in a battle with three dragoons."

    "Hmm, I will need to speak with his daughter, Lucille then, their city is tenuously held in large part thanks to her diplomacy, the Red Hand and local witches, but the Lady Waycrest is… Delicate and I doubt word of her husband's demise will leave her partial to us," He said.

    "And the Proudmoore's? They killed my husband," She insisted.

    "They will be judged in time, but patience is a virtue Royal Councilor. Besides," He added, looking back at Boralus, "I imagine you will have your hands full repairing the damages done here. Laborer's and enforcers shall be provided to aid in this of course, as will a Speaker to ensure Drakkari policy is well enforced."

    She coughed gently, and intoned, "I was given to understand Royal Councilors ruled in your name?"

    "They do, when they have proven themselves both trustworthy and capable."

    She made to speak but his words washed over hers too swiftly.

    "You have aided me, so you are reliable, and I promised you this land and thus you will have it. But I want a thriving and functional empire which means keeping close tabs on places harmed by this war." He cast his gaze across the privateers now just milling about and added quietly, "I can leave this land in your hands alone, but this one would not wish to be trying to hokld a country with only hired hands."

    "Of- of course," she said gently. "the Ashvane know well how to run our business affairs, and so this nation shall thrive under my rule."

    "I am sure," Malakk said neutrally before turning away, "Congratulations, Royal Councilor Ashvane, Kul'Tiras is yours; now tend to your people and your soldiers, we shall speak again soon, but for now I wish to take in my new dominion."

    "As you command, Frost King Malakk," she answered, mind frantically wandering what it was she was even expected to do, and worse, how she was meant to pay so many pirates when half their pay was to be garnered in looted goods!

    'I can make this work, I have to,' she thought, as several captains began approaching her.

    Lianne could not suppress the kernel of worry in her chest as she led her escorts through Proudmoore Keep, eyes wide and searching for Jaina and Tandred.

    "Perhaps the next floor?" Xion'Zal suggested, their pale blue hair flicking as they motioned to the steps.

    "We can only hope," She said, lifting up her skirt, shoes echoing on steps as she moved passed slumped over guards towards the next floor.

    "Wait," Xal'Zin whispered, "I hear something," The troll woman's ears twitching.

    Her guards slid in front of her gently, Xion'Zal casting some protective and cloaking spells as Xal'Zin took to the front, weapons at the ready.

    Lianne followed several steps behind them, but when she heard a gasp, she could not resist pushing forward to peek around them.

    Before her was a young brunette in Kul'Tiran armor, barely more than a girl and still standing on shaky legs, propping herself up with her shield she levelled a sword and spat. "No one… Gets passed… Me."

    "The spell should have knocked her out?" Xal'Zin muttered.

    "A strong will, I think, there's fire in her eyes," Xion'Zal commended.

    The girl weakly drew her arm back, sword shaking as she tried to steady her breathing.

    Lianne spoke, "You are Lorena yes? Jaina spoke of you quite fondly as her favorite escort."

    "Qu- Queen Menethil?" Lorena answered, eyes wide in confusion.

    "It is she, or, I was," Lianne bowed, "I now bear the title of Royal Councilor, we have not come here to harm Jaina or Tandred, merely to move them somewhere safer."

    The look of numb confusion turning into offended horror as Lorena drew her sword back higher, color returning to her cheeks, "No one will touch the Lady and young lord!"

    'So, they are alive,' Lianne thought, breathing a sigh of relief before looking to her guards, "Please be gentle, a guard should not stray from the one they are meant to protect.

    "As you wish," Xion'Zal said, lurching forward and catching Lorena's sword strike on her shield as Zal'Zin let loose a twin blast of cold winds that flung Lorena to the side and then back into the doors.

    Staggering forward she roared, only for Xion'Zal to blur to her side and delivered a sharp strike to the back of her neck, sending Lorena crashing to the ground. Zal'Zin's hands glowed and the light suffused Lorena's body as she tried to rise before going slack and collapsing.

    "Fierce little fighter indeed," Xion'Zal said, hoisting the brunette over her shoulders.

    Lianne moved to open the doors but Xion'Zal shook her head, "Please, allow us, just in case."

    Lianne frowned but nodded, letting the trolls push open the door, and the sight before her caused relief to flood her heart.

    Xal'Zil rubbed his chin, "And the spell held? What an impressive pair of kids."

    Jaina and Tandred were alive, the boy lay unconscious, wrapped in his sisters cloak but Jaina was still standing, her staff pulsing with blue light that matched the great barrier surrounding she and her brother even as she strained to stay on her feet.

    "Thank the Light," Lianne whispered, standing between her guards and waving to the girl weakly, who'se eyes few wide and her barrier flickered from the loss of focus before reforming.

    "Queen Lianne?" She asked quietly, eyeing the two trolls warily.

    Lianne waved off her guards and strode forward, kneeling before the barrier and held out her hand, "'I know you've little reason to trust me dear, but please know that your mother lives, that you will not be harmed if, and that there is more you can do for your land by taking hand here and now than in a battle."

    "... That is, very hard for me to believe dear lady," Jaina said slowly, eyes glowing intensely.

    Lianne bowed her head, "I know, but I swear, whatever may come I will look after you and your mother,' she promised, pressing her hands against the barrier even as it stung and watching as Jaina slowly, slowly but surely drew it back and with one shaking hand took her own.

    "I... I will trust you..."

    "Thank you dear Jaina, thank you."

    Waking came to Katherine swiftly, as if a veil had been lifted from her mind and with it her senses came back to her, but she did not open her eyes, or even move.

    'Wounds? Gone. Hands? Unbound.'

    "Katherine," A familiar voice insisted urgently.

    'Lianne? … Captured.' The thought was a bitter one but not unexpected given she still drew breath.

    Her tongue felt around in her mouth for the stored filling only to find… Nothing.

    A stray finger twitched as she realized her toxic studded ring too had been taken!

    A strong, rumbling baritone washed over Lianne's gentle insistence to say, "You will find the poisoned fillings, weapons or any other means of suicide taken from you, and I must inform you an attempt to take my Royal Councilor hostage would not end well."

    "You must think very poorly of her to suggest that," Lianne said gently.

    "You are the one who described her as a soldier and serious-minded woman," the troll answered lazily.

    Katherine's eye opened a sliver and as the blurriness faded, she saw Lianne hovering at her side, though whatever bed she was resting on must have been exceedingly high given she was up to the other woman's chest.

    The room itself was covered in sharp engravings, with statues, plush chairs and strange crystal looking lights, illuminating the gargantuan figure of a troll who was paradoxically dressed in simple, if elegant robes and seated at a dark wooden desk looking over scrolls.

    "Where are my children?" She snapped, forcing herself to sit up and finding her legs dangling from the massive lounge.

    Lianne smiled, and motioned, "Tandred is sleeping over there and Jaina is with him."

    Katherine 's head sot around and she was hopping off the lounge before wholly processing the sight of Jaina and Tandred half sinking into the plush lounge, her daughters arm aaround her sleeping sons shoulder. On the march over she saw one of the guards, a squire, she'd left to protect Jaina and Tandred disarmed but standing before them. The girl bowed, "My lady I am sorry."

    "Move," was her answer, nearly shoving the girl aside to brush her fingers through her children's hair as Lianne slid up behind her.

    "Jaina are you well? What of Tandred?"

    Jaina nodded, "The spell lulled him to sleep mother, as it did you, but I am well."

    Lianne was at her back, "He is in the same deep sleep you were, but will awaken soon, and neither have been harmed, nor will they be," She said.

    'Traitor,' Katherine thought, glancing over her shoulder and muttering, "Given the fate of your family, your words inspire no confidence in me." There was a sick satisfaction in seeing Lianne's serene façade flash through hurt and anger before a pained sadness settled on her features and was quickly buried beneath regal elegance.

    "Mother," Jaina gently chided.

    "Cruel words will not wash away your frustration, but merely lead me disinclined to heed you, so tread carefully Proudmoore," The troll muttered, finally placing down his scrolls to watch them openly.

    "I do not take orders from you, monster," She spat, turning to face the monstrous figure.

    The troll chuckled, "Monster", an interesting word given the monstrous murder of my Speaker and subjects is what brought me to your doorstep."

    "So, you pay us back ten thousand-fold?" She hissed. "I am not as meek as the Menethil's, Kul'Tiras shall not yield to you!"

    The troll arched his brow, but stilled his tongue at Lianne's call of, "If I may?"

    Nodding the troll turned back to his work as Katherine's mind tried to process the exchange as Lianne rounded on her.

    "I sympathize with your anger but lashing out will not change reality. Still," she said with a sharp and purposeful shrug, "It is clear you wish this to be done so I will return your earlier bluntness."

    She did not lean forward but somehow her presence seemed to loom larger all the same.

    "The war is ending Katherine, all that remains to be determined is the fate of Kul'Tiras in the coming days and as I told Jaina, you shall benefit far more from working with us than stubbornly lashing out."

    There was something there, something unspoken that Katherine's still awakening mind could not yet parse.

    "I have no intention of becoming a pet like yourself, so speak plainly."

    "Because there is no worse fate than to be ruled by another? Truly we must have been a draconian lot."

    "Your humor is not welcome here Lianne."

    "Nor is your bloody mindedness," Lianne retorted.

    Katherine snorted, trying to stare the woman down.

    "Mother," Jaina whispered, "She has a plan."

    That left Katherine arching her brow at Lianne, inviting her to speak.

    Lianne paced around her, "Right now, you are royal hostages. Destined to while away your lives within comfortable quarters in the Temple City of Gundrak. You might, be released by silver tongued diplomats or elite agents, or you might have a voice in matters to come and allow us to resolve this more elegantly." Lianne turned to face her, a humor-less laugh escaping her lips like a whisper, "You were not entirely wrong you know, about Kul'Tiras. In truth, we only hold Boralus, the other coastlines are merely blockaded or negotiated into armistice. Already the assassins dip back into the shadows while witches flee back into the woods or aboard our ships, while the military and nobles rally in forts and cities to strike back."

    That brought a smile to her face, and she sent the troll a sharp stare, "Even with all your ships and pirates and traitors you could not win; you cannot hold Kul'Tiras."

    The troll showed no sign of paying attention, as Lianne drew her attention back.

    "What remains to be seen is how we return it to you, and in what state."

    There was a moment, that stretched on for eternity and less than a second that was but a blank, screaming void before it all fell into place.

    "You are negotiating with the Alliance."

    "What's left of it," Lianne said tiredly, "You have heard of the violence in the Hinterlands perhaps, and the Eastern Coast? It drags on without end t no discernible gains, but it has served to rouse the High Elves."

    That made her scoff, an expression of displeasure shared by Lianne, though as was typical, Jaina added, "Their generosity is appreciated in this moment, I think."

    Lianne's chuckle was lightly at that, before her tone grew somber, "Now, all that is left to do is war until we are all bloodied, exhausted and broken; or simply resolve ourselves to this new reality. One where a troll can be king of man and Amani can sign treaties with Elves. For if this continues," the queen shrugged.

    "It will not last, this unnatural state of affairs," Katherine countered hotly.

    "What was it you once said dear Jaina? When seeking to become a mage."

    Her daughter perked up, her tone touched with sadness even as she spoke. "I told Archmagus Antonidas that what makes us different from animals is that we can change our nature."

    Lianne's soft gaze drifted to her daughter, "Always a wise child, I thought."

    Katherine rejected the bid to soften her resolve, mind sorting through all she had heard, and concluding. "Kul'Tiras shall be returned to us, but its state depends on my cooperation I take it?"

    "With the negotiations, and in ensuring some degree of stability for the moment," Lianne guided her to the window. "Right now Ashvane and her servants are insulated, but if we simply leave, they will fight and may well burn this nation down fighting to keep it."

    Katherine nodded slowly, "But if I cooperate, if I, for example, compel a cease fire, you can call it surrender and her forces will disperse, the negotiations see the nations returned to its proper hands and they be none the wiser it is even happening."

    Lianne's smile was almost a smirk, "The Huay Drakkani had been wanting to entertain his allies in his palace, such a fine pretense to quietly move some people and documents no?"

    Katherine turned to scowl at the troll, "You let that butcher tear through Boralus, then betray her and expect me to trust you?"

    He placed down the over-sized pen and said, "Priscilla's missives merely offered me an open door, she did not detail the means by which it would be opened."

    "As though it makes a difference; or even addresses my point of your trustworthiness, troll."

    "Whether the distinction pleases you is rather besides the point, Katherine," Lianne reasoned.

    The trolls tongue however was clicking and she looked to the gargantuan figure and he said. "It is expected that the greedy and those seeking power would flock to my side even as I seek to surround myself with only honorable sorts like Lianne. But such people are cancers on an empire that must be cut out once the scales are balanced; I would not betray one who has served me well of course, but Priscilla not sworn her loyalty to this one, nor did she conduct herself honorably. Have you never laid low one of your ship captains, Lady Proudmoore?"

    It was true, but she would not give him the satisfaction of hearing it and turned back to Lianne who said, "Negotiations are already being orchestrated through letters. However, if you wish for a voice in these affairs, it shall have to come at the cost of you aiding us in this little deception."

    "Otherwise you leave my nation to the dogs until the Alliance negotiates my release."

    Lianne nodded, "It is not what we wish to do, but pragmatism is a cruel mistress and the Drakkari have nothing to gain by fighting it out here. So what do you say, Katherine, is the cost for a smoother resolution to this sordid war really so terrible?"

    'Our pride is the cost,' nearly fell from her lips, and Katherine's knuckles cracked as she debated just breaking Lianne's jaw, but stilled herself, and sighed. "I want to speak with my children about this matter. Alone."

    "You will be given privacy but not isolation," the troll said, "I cannot risk you and yours causing trouble and making a mess of my office."

    Lianne sent the troll an almost warning look and he threw up his hands theatrically before marching towards the most distant side of the room. Lianne then pushed a rolled scroll into her hands and moved to join the troll where they talked quietly among themselves.

    Turning back to her children Katherine watched quietly, mind a maelstrom as Tandre's eyes began to flicker open and with nary a thought, he flung himself into her waiting arms, quickly joined by Jaina.

    "Mother!"

    Lianne stood at Malakk's side, half inspecting a wall hanging as he asked, "Your thoughts?"

    Lianne glanced back at the woman hushing and hugging her children, Jaina looking over her mother's shoulder ever so briefly to lock eyes with her. Giving the girl a sympathetic smile, she turned back from the private moment and said, "I think she will. Katherine is not fool enough to throw away influence over pride. Granted, she will likely view all that comes next as a steppingstone to gather information for the next war."

    Malakk chuckled, "That should keep me alert."

    "You are not upset?"

    Malakk looked at her and leaned a hairs breath closer, "Did the same thought not occur to you?"

    Lianne had to concede the point, "Initially, though now I believe that would do more harm than good."

    "I am flattered."

    "Please do not be."

    "As you wish," he hummed.

    Idly toying with her necklace, she asked, "So what is your plan for Ashvane? She did deliver on her end of the deal."

    "She gave me a burning city and thousands of corpses," Malakk said, warmth faded but knowing his ire was not directed at her did wonders for letting her reaction be placid.

    "So, will you officially remove her from her position as part of the negotiations, or perhaps rely on assassins?" she asked.

    Malakk's mighty shoulders rolled in a shrug, "I would not be surprised if some were not plotting her death at this very moment, so if they get lucky my life is easier. As to the rest, we shall see. For now, I will let Ashvane and Adams dabble in their petty politics until they can be moved to Gundrak and if nothing has been done by the time the negotiations... I suppose I will have to act."

    "And that will not diminish your honor?"

    Malakk snorted, "Doing me a favor does not free one from the consequences of their actions."

    "Well said, Huay Drakkani, Malakk," the title still felt strange on her tongue but not as much as it had.

    Glancing back at Katherine and her children she saw them seated on the oversized lounge, the Proudmoore woman's eyes dark but considering.

    "If y- we had taken the island, would you have considered making the Proudmoore's Royal Councilors of all Kul'Tiras?"

    "No, I would grant that role to Flynn Fairwind. Hooktusk commended him for saving civilians so he would have a chance at being more well regarded than Priscilla or Adams, but without the background to hold the rank without me." He offered a lop-sided grin, "He shall be the one I leave in charge of Boralus as things move forward, so I suppose he shall be a Royal Councilor until it is time to sail North."

    "I shall be sure to afford him all the due honors I give unto my contemporaries," Lianne said, drawing a sharp, snickering chuckle from Malakk.

    Katherine's voice cut through the conversation, "Shall I merely await the conclusion of this... Display"

    They turned back to the Produmoore's, and Malakk shrugged, "Assuming your own conversation is done, ours can wait."

    Katherine's glare did not abate, "I have other questions about these upcoming negotiations."

    "Naturally, shall we discuss things over a meal?" Malakk asked.

    Lianne smiled encouragingly, "The deep sleeps side effects shall wear off soon and I assure you, you will be famished."

    Jaina and Tandred looked to their mother nervously, as Katherine's lip twitched, before she forced the anger back and muttered, "Let us get this over with then," as she rose to her feet.

    Malakk bowed theatrically, "Then allow me to formally welcome you as honored guests of the Drakkari Empire."

    So a lot happened this chapter, you might not know it but it was originally two chapters; however recent feedback has compelled me to combine them so that it feels less like the Alliance is constantly getting kicked in the face, thus the negotiations begin here.

    Beyond that there's only so much to say as this is very much wrap up so to speak.

    I definitely enjoyed writing the various pirate interactions; and I definitely enjoyed writing Katherine and even Priscilla, though in the latter case mostly for how violently unhinged she's become. I do wish I'd given Jaina more to do, though this new draft is better than the old where she just passed out after raising an arcane barrier.

    Much of the negotiations talk is also new material, but I think it overall works much more smoothly than the Drakkari conquering most of Kul'Tiras off screen just cos Priscilla managed some decent sabotage in a handful of cities. Also I still really enjoy writing Malakk & Lianne interacting, wish I could have woven De'Jana in but I will have to deal with it.
     
  • Sidestory
    • So... Broadly speaking I don't think this newest chapter has gone down great.

    In many respects I think that's reflective of some ruts I'd fallen into, IE trying to get a chapter out every week, being one of the earliest one's I outlined and not adapted sufficiently enough for feedback and just generally being rather repetitive compared to other examples, along with making things too smooth in general and flattening Malakk's character.

    With that in mind and the feedback from someone else, I have a generalized outline for a revised chapter which give Kul'Tiras way more agency, Jaina a much bigger role and generally makes a lot more sense. It will take a bit for me to write it out so the weekly update schedule will fall out of sync but I'm up for it if you all are.

    If you support changing it, feel free to like this post or leave a comment.
     
    The Torrents of War: Part 8 - The Battle of Boralus
  • Threadmarks
    • Opening Statement: So, like many readers I found myself unsatisfied with the last chapter and as a result have essentially scrapped and rewritten it from scratch. I would like to thanks @Mook91 for the suggested outline and @Ebanu8 for editing. I hope that this new update proves enjoyable, thus let me present:

    The Torrents of War: Part 8 - The Battle of Boralus
    "Stand fast! Stand fast sons and daughters of Kul'Tiras! We are the children of the sea, the slayers of giants and dragons! We shall not fall to these invaders! Fear not, fear not, the trolls' fathomless maw; for we are blessed to fight for this city!" ​

    Sarna was neither a warrior like her ma or a sailor like her pa, she was but a humble barber blessed to live in Boralus.

    The woman, nearing middle age, with normally elegantly styled hair formed into a tight bun fastened another gleaming blade to her clothes, her hands twitching with anticipation.

    Warrior she was not, but she was neither coward nor traitor, and she was certainly not about to let pirates and trolls of all things have her home without a fight!

    Forcing open her door she joined the growing chorus in the streets, their voices rising high as they raced to the docks, to the barricades and the invaders.

    The cobblestone streets were slick with soot and ash, the air suffused with smoke and screams as pirates swarmed up from the docks and crashed against the city's defenses.

    "Ram the bloody thing over!" Captain Jolly howled, as his crew heaved and ho-ed a mighty battering ram at the hasty barricade erected by the Tirasi town guards and retreating sailors.

    Other crew mates bearing large shields huddled around them to protect against the returning fire of the soldiers and the barricade started to crash and strain.

    "That's it, that's the way, one more good push and we're in-"

    He didn't see the stone mortar flung from the second story window of an old baker, who howled, "Get outta Boralus you ingrates!" before ducking out of the way of the pirates returning fire.

    The brief break in concentration and order, however, was enough for several slim breaks in the shield wall to let through crossbow bolts and with the shield-bearers dying, the ram bearers raced back, desperate to get out of range.

    Lord Stormsong rested heavily on his cane, eyes sunken and lacking their usual warmth as he absorbed the shameful spectacle before him.

    Pirate ships marshalled in the docks and swarmed into the city from Ashvane territory like locusts, as ice spread from the trolls' fleet and upon it marched waves and waves of soldiers.

    The Sea Gate still stood, Ashvane having simply resorted to leaving ladders and small holes in their great Sea Wall to let the invaders through.

    From his perch atop the gate, Lord Stormsong and his retinue uttered a prayer.

    "The sea shall not abide those who come to do us harm; for the sea is our mother and her love is vast and deep."

    He raised his staff high above his head, clutched tightly between his hands as the power of his goddess flooded his very being.

    "Let the tides rise and rage, let the waters writhe and whirl, let the Tidemother take her fill and swallow these invaders!"

    The staff came down with a violent thunderous crash against the stone and all across the ice bridges, one could hear a sudden, violent crack.


    Hooktusk did not like how the battle was going.

    She put the spyglass up against her eye and growled under her breath, "Damned Tirasi, would that they fall over themselves to run like other cities."

    "Will this be a problem?" Her guard intoned nervously.

    "Hard to say," She muttered, "We got the pirates wearing 'em out for us and they can't exactly leave with the waters all frozen but-"

    That was when she heard a sudden and violent cracking sound; Gral's insignia thrummed with wary sensations, and she braced herself.

    Then the screaming started.

    Great tracks spread across the ice sheet, massive waves picking up beneath them, hoisting warriors into the air and then sucking them into the deep like killer whales.

    Frantically she searched for the source and bit back a screech of fury at the sight of Lord Stormsong leading his people in prayer atop the Sea Gate.

    "Stormsong!? That bitch promised us she'd have him out of the fucking way!"

    "Navarch, some of the pirate ships are trying to flee!?" Her watcher howled.

    'Already? They must have been waiting, but who would-' She caught sight of the sight of a bright burning sun.

    "Thalo'dan's Privateers!? The woman hired an elven pirate crew to help trolls!?"

    Flynn rubbed his chin, "They must have been recent arrivals, I don't remember them as part of the early meeting-"

    "Gral's Guts, they're gonna open fire if we don't let them out," She muttered and where one crew went, others would follow in fear.

    "Nav-"

    "Shut up!" She snapped, "Order all our ground forces and Krag'Jin's to fall back into the ships, we can bombard the city with cannons and dragoons."

    Her ears twitched and her heart sank as word rang out.

    "We got new ships coming, they're Waycrests!"

    "That damned woman said the Red Hand would have them in chaos for weeks," She didn't even have the energy to curse. Turning she barked, "Turn our rear and side guards around, we can't let them hem us in or it will be us being bombarded into oblivion!"

    "Hail Navarch!"

    "The Huay Drakkani-"

    "Will have to suck it up, winning is falling off the table, but surviving's still on the menu."

    She very much did not say something stupid like, 'So long as nothing else goes wrong', but somehow, she feared it would anyway.


    Katherine Proudmoore stood within the main foyer of the Keep, dragon-scale armor adorning her frame and a hand on the pommel of her blade.

    She tried to take her, and her lieutenants minds off the army rallying around the keep, "How's our munitions!?"

    Cannoneer Graves saluted, "Ever since we bombarded the traitors from on high our munitions are… lower than I would like, but still plentiful enough to put up a fight. It was a dab plan ma'am, using our elevated position to rain down on their own cannons."

    "She had not the time nor the numbers to erect truly worthwhile barriers, would that we had struck Priscilla as well," Katherine groused.

    "All too true, ma'am, still," The stout, long haired man said, "We are ready to give any attacking force the fight of a lifetime. Once they grow a backbone and try again, at least..."

    "Yes, I am aware, if they make their way past our roof cannons, we will struggle to stall their advance; still, better to take their long-range weapons when we have the element of surprise."

    Graves nodded, as lieutenant Amora raced in and knelt, "Ma'am, we fought off another raiding party from the tunnels, but we had to trigger a cave-in to stop their advance."

    "A fair decision, I expect they will make for the east escape tunnel next. Once the next round of charges is rigged, send half your forces there to lay down covering fire, stall their advance for as long as possible."

    "As you command ma'am."

    "We have movement!" Lieutenant Benedict shouted, the bald, armored man racing down the stairs and promptly saluting her, "It is as we feared milady, they are dividing themselves into tightly knit platoons, using the cover of shields and magic to approach the Keep."

    "One cannot accuse Priscilla of hiring incompetence, nor for failing to learn from her mistakes," Katherine answered, hand on her chin, "They likely have explosives, or perhaps a battering ram. Whatever the case, we cannot allow them to approach."

    "Ma'am?"

    "They have not yet had the time to roll in new cannons, and the remaining few cannot get close enough to do more than irritate us," She let a savage smirk play on her lips, "Let the traitors come, and we shall dip our blades in their blood."

    Benedict's chest swelled with pride as he saluted, "As you command!"


    Priscilla watched the battle through her opera glasses, a smirk on her lips as she saw several platoon tearing through the firing line without their courage or bodies breaking.

    'Take her, take her!' She wanted to cheer. The thought of Katherine desperately trying to dig her way-out from collapsed stone, of seeking some little compartment to cower in with her children as soldiers advanced was like fine wine.

    Then the doors of the Keep burst open, and Katherine's silver touched hair flashed into sight as she led the charge of green-bedecked soldiers and robed Tidesages in a mad charge forward.

    "What!?"

    Her Knight Captain Valyri squinted, "Must not want to waste cannons ma'am, and they've the forces to match what few platoons can break through, for now at least."

    Priscilla barely heard her, gaze locked solely on Katherine and she darted forward like a viper. Tidesages and Hydromancers broke the magical barriers and the advancing platoon began floundering, as she crashed against the foremost shield-wall and thrust her blade inside.

    Priscilla couldn't hear the scream of pain, but her husband's howl echoed in her mind; nails drawing blood from her hands.

    "Cannoneers, can we hit her!?" She hissed.

    "No, your grace, at this distance and with their magical support we'd be little more than a hindrance," Valyri said.

    "Then send in more soldiers, send in all of them if you must, overwhelm her!"

    Valyri stared at her wide eyed, "My- My queen, our plan will work, we can wear them out, we can smuggle bombs closer and weaken the foundations as we have been doing, Proudmoore Keep will fall."

    Priscilla grabbed the smaller woman's chest plate and dragged her forward to hiss in her face.

    'I don't want her dead later; I was her dead now! I want her screaming head on a pike after she watches me bash her children's skulls on rocks!'

    What fell from her mouth was, "The-The trolls have arrived, which means their king will be fast approaching; we must finish this now, so we can give him a pacified Kul'Tiras. Do what must be done, or I shall find someone who will."

    The hurt look on Valyri's face should have pained her, but she felt nothing in her raging heart, and after a stifling moment the woman nodded and turned away.

    Drawing her sword, she shouted, "The enemy commander had revealed herself; they cannot fire on their own so this is our best chance! Charge with me! Seize your gold! Seize your glory!"

    The crowd roared, but not with enthusiasm, shields raised as ranks were formed, some greedy few racing forward, ready to risk their lives for a few more silvers.

    "The fewer survivors the bigger the cuts!" Another crowed and her soldiers began to march.

    Priscilla saw the look of horrified shock flash across Katherine's face and smiled.


    Jaina could not stand being consigned to her room, and so with some gentle coaxing had managed to compel Lorena to watch over Tandred while she took to the roof.

    The air was still thick with smoke and the sight of enemy ships in the harbor was like something out of a nightmare, but she could not focus on that now.

    All she could do was focus on what was right in front of her.

    On the grounds below she saw her mother and their house guard sally forth against the traitors, blades and spells flashing and filling the air in a cacophony of lights.

    She cast her own magic from on high, sharp bolts of ice crashing against spell walls and woven disenchantment magics designed to disrupt their defenses raining down.

    So lost in her motions and work she did not notice the blood, did not notice the men she felled or the house guards dead, or rather, she tried not to, focused solely on her task.

    That was until a cheer rose up and a cry rang out, the words garbled but she heard a name, "Proudmoore!" On everyone's lips and her gaze was torn to the source.

    It was her mother, she was on the ground, bare feet away from Priscilla, her left gauntlet and pauldron ruined and her body lying motionless on the ground, surrounded by a cadre of loyal retainers.

    "Look away milady," Someone whispered, but their words were nothing to her now, the sight of her mother's charred shoulder and her limp body as Pricilla rose up from her throne with a sword in hand shocking her mute.

    Dalaran was dead, along with her beloved mentor, her father now slumbering beneath the waves and her city was burning, and her mother's life was fading before her eyes.

    It was too much, too terrible and to this she could only scream, magic suffusing her voice and cracking the air, soldiers stilled and even Priscilla's gaze rose.

    Jaina did not notice and she did not care.

    She could not lose anyone else.

    She would not let them take anyone else.

    Her staff's crystal turned a blazing bright blue, like a star it pulsed and surged with power until it became too much and it shattered, scattering into the sky.

    Jaina could barely see it, her eyes shining a blistering blue as power course through her veins, flooding the air with mana.

    The skies rippled and wavered, strange lights and crackling bolts of magic roiled as the false storm seethed and the Elemental planes came to her call.

    Jaina looked down upon the invaders and traitors.

    And upon them she unleashed the storm.

    Priscilla stared up at the roiling mass of magic in the sky, the sound of her jaw cracking ringing in her own head as the spiraling whirlpool of power surged with life.

    'I have to kill her now!' She thought, racing towards Katherine, and howling, "Shoot her, shoot her!"

    But some of the soldiers were already running, others too caught up in battle or bewitched by the sight.

    All were equally unprepared for when it struck.

    Blade of ice as thick as any soldier's arm began to rain down like hail that ripped through steel and spell alike.

    Accompanying them were tendrils of water elementals that seethed and roared like the depths of the ocean, their very presence made her feel like she was drowning.

    Priscilla's charge was stalled, a great wall of ice barring her path to Katherine as her soldiers dragged her scorched frame inside.

    "Ma'am we must retreat!" Valryi cried, tugging at her arm.

    "No! No, I will not be denied my revenge! Stop running you cowards!" She swung her sword at the retreating, cowering soldiers only to feel a sudden chill.

    "Ma'-urk!" Valryi's head lost a chunk to a bolt of ice, just as Priscilla's arm had been cut from her body like it was nothing.

    Before she could even fall, or scream or run, Priscilla felt surging tendrils surround her, oxygen ripped from her lungs as the Elemental encompassed her and she was swallowed into its depths.


    Don Adam's was a smarter man than most, and so the moment he saw the mage start screaming bloody murder he fled.

    For his foresight he had only been clipped a few times by raining blades of ice before escaping the mad girl's range and disappearing into the city streets, chest heaving with each breath.

    "Where... Where the fuck are the pirates, where are my people?" He gnashed his teeth, fumbling for a healing drought as he ducked down another alleyway, Lil'Friend clinging to his back.

    "Hey, hey," He barked, "Sniff someone out, we need somewhere to hide until this blows over," He ordered, finally freeing the glowing red liquid from his hidden pocket.

    "No one around?" The critter asked, massive ears twitching.

    "No, and we need to find-Gu-" Something sharp and cold buried in the side of his neck and was ripped out just as swiftly, and he tasted coppery blood in his mouth

    A blurring little form leapt from his back and snatched the drought from his hand; Lil' Friend rolled across the ground and corked the bottle, "Will be needing this."

    "L... Lil' Friend?" His fell to his knees, the bloodletting enchantment on her knives robbing him of his strength too quickly to fight back.

    "Friends don't buy friends as cubs from markets," She growled. Then, something sharp and wicked spread on her features, "Glad to know your safe number though, die painfully, big friend!" She yipped, before leaping through an open window as Don Adam collapsed to the street, spasming and twitching as his life ebbed away.

    Hooktusk's nails dragged blood from her skin as she muttered, "Now what the fuck is happening?" at the magical spectacle raging out of Proudmoore Keep.

    She felt a sudden, looming presence behind her and turned sharply, "Huay Drakkani."

    Malakk barely even glanced at her, simply staring at the cataclysmic spell even as it began to fade, "That does not look ideal."

    "None of this is, Sire," She confess, "The pirates are being slaughtered or dying, the Keep held, and reinforcements are here or will be arriving shortly.

    He turned his full attention to her, "Can you win?"

    Her jaw cricked and cracked as she tried to find a good answer before she snorted, "No, best I can do is try to drag 'em down with me or scarper."

    Malakk clicked his tongue, "How much of their fleet have we sunk?"

    Hooktusk's brow arched, "Across the war, and with Falravere leaving, I'd say half at least."

    Malakk nodded slowly, "And their docks are certainly damaged."

    That made her snort, "The entire Ashvane district will be a ruin before this is done."

    "A good chunk of their shipbuilding capacity goes with it then," Malakk's head tilted, his orange eyes focused on the keep before he shook his head, "I can envision no victory here, and if you cannot then we are assuredly doomed to fail."

    She couldn't even to argue with that, but her chest tightened, her pride rankled all the same as Malakk pressed on.

    "Order a withdrawal, Navarch. I shall take Krag'jin and Seraphaine; while you shall lead the rest North and fortify at Tal'Vass."

    She cast a glance at her deck crew and barked her order, "The Huay Drakkani says we're done here, ready for a withdrawal and get me Krag'Jin and his witch!"

    "Not gonna get anyone else outta here?" She asked Malakk.

    Malakk rolled his massive shoulders, "The Western Dominion will fracture without them; I would evacuate everyone if I could, but the portals are already straining the Ley Lines, or so the Nerubians tell me," He sent her a significant look, "You knew the risks of this path, Navarch."

    Snorting, she brushed him off, "I know that much, still rankles; what of the pirates and Priscilla?"

    "The pirates are none of my concern, though if some wish to flee with you by all means bolster the fleet; as for Prisicilla..." He glanced back at the city. "If she still lives it does not matter, she never swore her loyalty to me, so I am not responsible for her."

    "How convenient," Hooktusk groused.

    "It is what it is, Navarch."

    Shaking her head, Hooktusk said, "We've already taken losses, and this retreat will be bloody if they don't focus on securing Boralus."

    "I shall marshal as many Dragoons and other reinforcements as I am able to cover your retreat."

    "Whatever floats your boat, now get outta the way, I have a fleet to organize."

    When she moved, Malakk let her pass, his gaze locked onto Boralus, something inscrutable on his features and she pretended not to hear his muttered words.

    "This was a mistake."

    'On that we agree.'
     
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  • Threadmarks
    • Interlude: Negotiations
  • Threadmarks
    • Interlude: Negotiations​

    The Battle of Boralus had gone badly, worse than Malakk had ever expected, even upon his arrival.

    The sudden intervention of Gnomish Submarines had cut off Krag'Jin's escape ensuring his capture, allowing the Tirasi ships to harass them back North.

    Now, only the Loa and Seraphine told him that Krag'Jin lived along with the crew of several other captive vessels, but it was a cold comfort.

    Thus, Malakk was meticulous in who he called on for aid, leaving several key advisors engrossed in their duties where they could not undermine his position.

    His orange gaze trailed across the royal resting room to those he had called: Gal'Darah, Beve and De'Jana, all looking subtly tense and alert as the doors began to open.

    "The War Priest has answered your summons, my liege."

    "Send them in," He intoned, watching as Hala'Zhi marched in, their bone tattooed face doing nothing to hide the subtle consideration in their manner.

    "My friend, what word do you bring?" Malakk asked, adopting the practiced mask of an air of ease as he leaned back into his throne.

    Bowing, they answered, "Mine emperor, mine Warlord, my Loa-sworn sovereign and master Zul'jin bade me bring you fair news, Huay Drakkani. He speaks that he shall accept truce talks with his hated rivals at your request, but it must be known that the scale grows weighty."

    Malakk nodded, "The scales shall be balanced, that I swear."

    He drew a knife and dragged it along his plan, "This I swear on my name, my title and my empire, the scales shall be balanced."

    As his blood began to fade and the wound healed, Hala'Zhi smiled and bowed, "I shall then commune with the Loa and share with them and he this happy news. By your leave."

    Malakk waved them off with a quiet thanks and returned to his advisors and he finally said, "Time to get some more use out of that captured elven diplomat, I think."

    Gal'Darah was the first to speak, "Are we so sure the elves can be of use in this matter? They have shown no interest in aiding the South against us."

    "Only officially," De'Jana added, "Privateers, rogue agents, and let us not forget the Hinterlands battle ground. All these can be tied to the Quel'Dorei's policy and their people not acting as one."

    Beve nodded, "And regardless, we have their prince. That shall give them motive and however cut-off the Elves may be, they hold more sway than many might realize, especially with the Wildhammer. It is likely the best means by which we can ensure a smooth transition to peace."

    Gal'Darah frowned, "Assuming they keep their word."

    Malakk nodded, tongue clicking in consideration, "We are between the blizzard and the ocean. If we let things continue as they are, we shall surely be worn down to a nub and lose many fine souls already captured. If they betray us... Well, then we shall have to resort to methods this one would dislike to stymie their march, but the blame at least would be on them."

    He turned to his advisors, "For now, let us see what the morning brings.

    When morning came to Katherine Proudmoore, it was a surprise. She had not expected to wake when the flames tore across her sword arm and she fell to the ground.

    But she had awoken, in her own bed, arm bandaged, with Tandred at her side, and her daughter comatose. They promised she would recover, even if her hair would remain bone white for the rest of her life – a small price to pay.

    Yet, as Katherine returned home from inspecting Boralus and reassuring the people, her first destination was Jaina's room.

    On the way of course, she was waylaid with politics.

    "Thermaplugg, thank you again for your services," She said with a nod, as the Gnome fell in at her side, atop some machine to keep pace.

    "Not at all milady, the Council is always happy to aid its allies in times like this and we were hardly alone," He added as an afterthought.

    "Yes, I must commend the Young Waycrest girl for driving the Red Hand into the ground so swiftly," They began marching up the stairs, light gleaming in through the windows.

    Thermaplugg was quick to press on, "I have been requested to inform you that the council shall be happy to offer you aid in in the coming days to reinforce your territory."

    "That is most welcome," She said smoothly, "Though I confess I had heard there were troubles back home."

    The Gnome waved her off, "Some primitive, brutish creatures, everywhere like pests these days, but no real threat to any of us. Especially after Stormwind managed to slip through some of their soldiers to stem the tide."

    "That is heartening to her," She shook her head with a sigh, "Rebuilding our fleet to its former strength will take time, so in this your aid is most welcome."

    "In that regard," Thermaplugg said conspiratorially, "We may have some new paths to chart."

    She wanted to press him but as her daughters or came into sight he respectfully left her side and she pushed open the door. Quietly, she asked the first healer she saw, "How does she fare?"

    The Priestess of the Light smiled, "She is strong milady-"

    "I know my daughter is strong, tell me how she fares," Katherine marched forward and dropped down at Jaina's bed-side, Tandred sliding under her arm as she did so.

    Sucking in a breath the woman bowed, and it was Lord Stormsong who spoke next, "She will recover, it may take another few days for the roiling energies within her to settle, but we shall sustain her through it and she will wake."

    Katherine brushed strands of hair from Jaina's face, her daughter's cheeks sunken and her brow furrowed, there was a tremor, a gasp of something before she faded again.

    "She will awaken," Katherine murmured, more like a prayer, or perhaps a command to the world that had taken more than enough from her already. She would not let it have Jaina, she hugged Tandred closer; come hellfire or high waters, she would not lose anyone else, not after Derek.

    The Altar of Zul in the Southern Hinterlands was a place of holy pilgrimage and honor; one that withstood war and age and genocide alike.

    It was also filled with the sounds of chaotic snapping and arguing; trolls of all tribes shouting in fury and offence, bickering atop the great stone ziggurat.

    "Silence," Zul'jin hissed, with such venom the air was laced with toxins.

    "B- But War Lord-"

    "We are winning!"

    "The Elves have-"

    He rested a hand on his tonfa-blades and the voice stilled, as he let his remaining eye glide across his expanded cadre of advisors and subjects.

    Finally, he spoke.

    "Yes, we have done much harm to Lordaeroani, the Wildhammer and the Elves, but they grow wiser and wiser to our tricks by the day."

    He held out a hand forestalling their protests.

    "The Horde carried themselves across the continent, an engine of war and momentum that we let ourselves be swept up in, and for what?"

    "Death!" He snapped, rising to his feet.

    "I will not be made a fool again, I will not lead my people to destruction because we have garnered a few footholds! We have reclaimed many relics, taken much land, and claimed great wealth. Now is the time to secure our holdings, not race forward into the enemies' maw."

    His advisors quieted, thankfully, but some still seemed bitter.

    The aging form of the Witherbark's chief spoke, "Can we trust the Elves of all things to keep their word?"

    Zul'jin snorted, "Not one bit, but they and theirs will hold to it so long as it's convenient for them, and that shall grant us the time we need."

    He sent a significant glance over his shoulder where Daakara and Hex Lord Malacrass stood side-by-side by an ornate crate. Carved from blessed jade to bear the faces of the Holy Five, layered with runes and trinkets, it pulsed with power.

    A quiet dread suffused his follower, the Jintha'Alori looking especially stricken as he smiled at them.

    "This treaty will be ash before long, but through it, we shall secure the final death of our enemy and the restoration of our empire."

    Zul'jin dragged his hand across his blade, his words wreathed with divine power, "This I so swear."

    Pride leads to peril and Malakk had certainly grown all too proud in recent days; arrogantly conflating good fortune with the status quo.

    Thinking that because his turncoats had proven so useful before they would again, even as the shock of one aligning with trolls wore off.

    Thinking that the Alliance would continue to fray and fracture in confusion and shock even as his army strained.

    Thinking that he could win this war, could force the Alliance to fight on his terms only.

    He'd been wrong, so very wrong, and if he did not move quickly the entire Drakkari Empire would pay dearly for it.

    Malakk's gaze locked onto the goblin representative of the Venture Company. Enshrined in a cushy chair in Malakk's study and adorned in a frankly overly perfumed suit of royal purples, the smarmy goblin reclined in his seat, looking almost disinterested at first glance.

    "So, you believe you can do this this for me?"

    The goblin grinned widely, "Oh certainly, Frost King, certainly. The Dark Iron Empire are old trading partners of ours and will be ecstatic."

    Malakk nodded slowly, "You will, of course, impress upon them the nature of this deal I am offering."

    Grizzle nodded, "That won't be a problem, they'll be happy their name was used to get one over on Ironforge. Beyond that," He shrugged, "They'll wait for a time to strike that suits them, but that seems fine with you."

    "It does," Malakk waved his hand lazily, "I merely want some time to get my house in order. If the prospect of the Dark Iron aligning with me is enough to give Ironforge pause, then I shall be satisfied with this arrangement."

    He clicked his finger and two Legionaries brought in a great chest. A thick burnished artefact, it was filled with silver, gold and jewels pilfered from several fallen noble families, or gifts Ironforge had given unto the royal family.

    "I offer the emperor this chest and all within it as a token of my esteem, and of course to you and your Venture Company..." Malakk passed the goblin a slip of paper, "A bequeathment of gold from the royal bank for your services."

    Grizzle's eyes widened gleefully, "Oh this is most generous, Your Majesty! I'll get this delivered unto the emperor in short order, have no doubt about that."

    He offered Malakk his tiny, jewel encrusted hand, "And I hope this can be the beginning of a beautiful friendship between the Venture Company and the Drakkari."

    Malakk smiled back and shook, "In that we are of a mind, Vice-President."

    Katherine strode through the halls of her home with Muradin and Thermaplugg at her sides, her manner tight and brisk.

    "This idea rankles me, to think we would consider a truce," Her hands, coiled behind her back squeezed so tightly she felt bones nearly crack.

    "Aye milady, it disturbs me as well," Muradin muttered.

    Thermaplugg nodded but added, "It is galling, but we need to be pragmatic; Eastweald is near-ready to suffer a housing and crop crisis, the invaders still hold many important hostages, the Thandol Span, and-"

    "I am well aware our peoples are strapped for resources, my own more than many," Katherine cut in. Her strides slowed a little as she passed Jaina and Tandred in the library.

    Taking in a breath she pressed on, "It will take months, if not years to get the fleet back into top fighting form. But all the same, letting the enemy marshal strength sits ill with me and even more for it being the Elves' idea."

    Muradin nodded, "If the Wildhammer are to be believed, there's more to it than just the usual snobbery; something that could let us go on the march sooner, if we just take a little time now."

    Thermaplugg nodded, "We'll see if the elves are as good as their word, but at any rate, this lets us reclaim many integral captives through exchanging our own prisoners."

    Katherine snorted, "Such as that troll you have locked in your submarine?"

    Thermaplugg smirked, "He's most uncomfortable I can assure you, milady, but he's too useful to execute."

    "More's the pity."

    The quiet of Malakk's Royal study was disrupted when Great Mother Arctikus's hand slammed against the table.

    She shot to her feet, shouting, "Huay Drakkani, I beg you to reconsider!"

    "Begging is beneath you, Great Mother," He answered, fingers steepled as he met her gaze.

    "Why, Your Majesty!? Why would you entertain an alliance with the Dark Iron!? They are no better than the Bronzebeards!"

    Malakk leaned into his throne.

    "It is an extended hand, but not one embracing them as a lover. More pointedly," He added sharply, "It gives us someone watching the Dwarves' and Gnomes' Southern flank, something for them to keep in mind if they march North."

    "They would have already considered them," She countered.

    "True, but the prospect of a coordinated counterattack is worse, I am thinking, as the Dark Iron are unusually isolated from news. Besides," He added with a carefully controlled shrug, "It also gives me something else to take off the negotiating table with the Alliance, washout costing me anything."

    "They-"

    He held up a hand and she stopped.

    "Great Mother, it is what it is, all done to protect the empire and secure us for the days, seasons and years ahead. Add your requests to this scroll for what you seek in this treaty and accept it."

    She looked ready to argue, every muscle in her body strained and tensed before she bit back her revolt and bowed, "As you say, Huay Drakkani."

    "Thank you, Great Mother," He added, failing to hide his tiredness, "And please hurry, deliberations begin soon and they will determine the fate of our empire.

    Malakk strode through the royal gardens, all around him his subjects moved with quiet and practiced ease, even the human gardeners who have acclimatized to his presence by now.

    His ears twitched and he slowed his strides to welcome Lianne's presence at his side, the woman bedecked in a slimming, summer blue dress and cloak.

    "So," She said slowly, "The time of treaty fast approaches."

    "Any day now," He nodded.

    She sent him a glance, subtle as it could be given how far she had to look up and added, "I do not suppose my Calia is among those to be sent into Alliance hands?"

    Malakk huffed, "You, in your position as reagent, surrendered willingly to me, and without her I would lose all legitimacy. So no, dear Lianne, she is not."

    Lianne rolled her shoulders in an elegant shrug, "I confess some surprise of that, on the Alliance's side at least."

    To that Malakk could say nothing, because Calia had indeed been requested, but his holding Kael'Thas had been enough to take that idea out of their talks.

    "It is what it is, Queen-Councilor."

    "I am sure, though given the conquest can one even claim legitimacy?" There was something not sharp, but almost teasing in her tone.

    "We could always ask your ancestors," He countered lightly, drawing a chuckle, "See what they think of this whole affair."

    "I am of Eastweld, Huay Drakkani; we were conquered by the capital as surely as it was conquered by you, though it did become typical for royal consorts to hail from the East in return."

    "So the records say," He conceded, "This one supposes Calia and De'Jana could perhaps court one another?"

    Lianne let out a sharp chuckle, "That would cause a riot, but as you say, it is what it is..."

    They stood before the grand water fountain, so tall Malakk could only barely see its tip. Like a shimmering liquid crystal it jutted into the sky, so large and titanic it was from a small child's point of view, and Lianne looked just like a little girl at that moment, innocent of the world's cruelties.

    "This is not where I thought my fate would lead," She sighed, not sounding sad so much as tired.

    Malakk considered answering but decided to let her finish the thought.

    Her shoulders slowly steeled and her head rose, weariness vanishing in an instant.

    "But as ever, fate is not ours to know," She turned to face him, a folded letter sliding from her sleeve, "If I might make a request, would you be so kind as to pass these on to the delegations? For Katherine and Jaina Proudmoore's eyes only."

    Malakk's exhausted mind strained for a moment, before something sparked: Jaina & Arthas, the longstanding friendship of the Menethil and the Proudmoore... Yes, that did make sense.

    "If one of my subjects wishes it, I am honor bound to deliver upon it, provided it shall cause no harm to the empire as a whole."

    "It shall not, you may inspect them yourself if you wish," She held out the letters and slowly, gently, Malakk took them.

    "I assure you, Lianne, you have chosen a fine courier for this task; neither rain nor sleet nor storm shall stop this delivery," Once they had been inspected thoroughly of course.

    His word drew a flicker of a smile from Lianne, a soft chuckle escaping her lips before her gaze returned to the fountain with his own.

    As the Spring sun shone overhead and the soothing sound of rushing water filled the atmosphere, for a moment, just the briefest of moments, they were at peace.

    Under other circumstances, Malakk might have been joyful at the chance to explore the lands of his cousins, to see the grand and glorious vistas of the Hinterlands, so akin to his home but so different.

    Yet all such excitement was subordinated truly to this moment, meeting Zul'jin, Warlord of the Amani Tribe, Emperor of the Neo Amani Empire. And more pointedly, the gravity of the meetings to come.

    'Focus on the here and now, show no weakness,' He reminded himself, taking in Zul'jin.

    The smaller, leaner troll managed to cut an intimidating figure, like a snake, Malakk thought at the white-haired troll's approach. Smooth and swift, every movement measured but at ease.

    "Such a pleasure it is to not merely hear your words but finally greet you in person, Huay of the Drakkari, Malakk," Zul'jin offered his hand.

    Malakk clasped it firmly, "The honor is mine, Emperor of the Amani, I certainly hope all the rumors' and tales you heard left a favorable impression."

    Zul'jin chuckled sharply at that.

    "That depends on who one asks," His one remaining eye drifting to the distant walled city of Shadra'Alor, "But of myself, I am most impressed and thankful to the Loa for your timing."

    "I am assuredly grateful to yourself, Zul'jin; if not for your well-timed interventions, this would still be dragging on and on."

    They turned from the city towards the Valorwind Lake's Southern bank, staring off into the distance of green hills and distant, rising mountains.

    Zul'jin's cloak fluttered in the wind, "It seemed the honorable thing to do, and though it pains me to draw my battles to a close so soon, I must commend your Speaker's skill. Quite the silver tongue on that one."

    "He is a fine orator," Malakk concurred, clasping his hands behind his back and breathing in the rich, crisp air. "I know waiting must irk you to no end, but know that for your commitment to this, I shall be in your debt."

    If Zul'jin was smirking it was hidden behind his cloak, but Malakk sensed the troll was pleased.

    Zul'jin chuckled, "Do not lose sleep over it. For though it pains me to leave things as they are, the chance to compel the Elves into signing the first treaty with trolls in their long and sordid history is almost delicious enough to make it worthwhile. I think I shall have it framed in a museum."

    Malakk snorted, "You think this shall work then?"

    Zul'jin shrugged, "So long as we hold to our convictions and our chits, I see no reason it should not, you doubt it?"

    Malakk clicked his tongue, "This land is still very new to me, and many things and people have surprised me since I have come here, so it pays to be wary."

    "It does, it does," Zul'jin's tone was dusty and dry, truly radiating his age, "But still, they will think themselves as beneficiaries of this peace as we and it spares us all this war turning into a zero-sum game of conquest."

    Malakk nodded, "Well said, I take it we are still meeting at your old staging point?"

    "Hiri'watha, the Elves and Dwarves took it, only to get bogged down in my counter-ambush. We hemmed some of theirs in, giving me more leverage in negotiating a time and place. Besides, it's on the borders of their and my war camps."

    "Then I suppose we'd best go over our notes again."

    "Ah, the part of an emperor's lives that all romantic stories always leave out.

    They both looked to one another and chuckled, "The bureaucracy."

    The air within the command tent was tense, or so thought High Thane Falstad Wildhammer.

    At his side was Anasterian Sunstrider, dressed in resplendent robes and adopting a far grimmer countenance than the Wildhammer Dwarf had ever seen in the Elf-king.

    Across the map table stood King Magni Bronzebeard and Stormwind's own Lady Prestor, representing in absentia her king.

    "How much longer until the meeting place is secured?" Anesterian asked, "I wish to see this matter resolved swiftly."

    "Oh aye," Ground out Magni, "But good help is hard to find these days."

    The Elf-king's eyes narrowed, "More of my people have fought in this conflict than yours, Bronzebeard. Just look across the burnt grasslands and high seas to see the bloody price we've paid."

    "Quel'Danil was barely a part of your nation, and privateers aren't the same as marching with the Alliance Army, which would have been far more helpful for us all. Though even just warning us-"

    "The Trolls circumnavigated our coastlines," The Elf-king snapped, "And recall well that I have no obligation to aid the Alliance – we left it behind."

    Magni huffed, "Yet here you are."

    "They have my son!" Anesterian's fists slammed against the table, his composure near totally lost as mana crackled around his frame.

    "Honorable leaders, please," Prestor intoned, "Though we may not all stand as one Alliance, are we not united here in one purpose?"

    Falstad nodded sagely, though he cast a cautious look towards Lady Prestor.

    "Well said lass, and I would hasten to remind my cousin from the South that we Wildhammer only sent a handful of volunteers to Lordaeron's aid as well," He held up a hand forestalling any counter-argument, "And that whatever the case may be, we are all here now, and will be in the coming days and months as we seek to correct what has been made wrong."

    That put a smile on Anesterian's face, "Indeed, with what is being made ready, these Drakkari and their Amani savages shall soon rue the day they thought to challenge the civilized races of the world."

    Magni let out a low breath, forcing himself to not shake his head, "Indeed, but first we must secure a peace so we can salvage the Eastweald from famine, and return as many captives to our lands as possible."

    On that, everyone who knew was in agreement, and though Lady Prestor arched a curious eyebrow, she did not protest being left out of the loop.

    Falstad tapped the table, "In this, it is fortunate that Saiden and your Gnomes sought to take and keep prisoners, giving us greater leverage for the coming trade."

    Anesterian huffed, "The invaders are stretched thin, they should think themselves lucky to get anything at all save our mercy."

    "A war to the last one standing would benefit none of us, King Anasterian," Magni noted, waving towards the charred grasslands just outside the camp, "Not even the survivors."

    Anesterian rolled his shoulders, returning to his quiet contemplation as the clock continued to tick monotonously over the dreadful din of silence, their agents maintaining a close vigilance over the meeting site.

    Finally, there was a flash of arcane light and Arcanist Doan, Saiden's chosen representative, materialized before them. At his side was the young lady Waycrest, chosen to observe on behalf of Kul'Tiras, adorned in an elegant but crisply professional dress.

    Doan's features were grim but professional as he bowed, "Great kings, High Thane and Milady, the time is at hand and the meeting place made ready."

    Falstad nodded, "Well then, let us get this over with then, no?"

    The half-ruined city of Hir'Watha stood on a great raised platform of squared earth and shaped stones. Long was it in a state of decay when the Amani Empire began to decay, and now much of the outlying walls lay in ruins and the city centre gutted entirely, the lesser buildings ground into dust.

    Thus, only the foundations remained, and so it was here that the leaders of great nations and empires gathered atop what had once been the city hall, laid bare save for a great circular table dividing them all and their retinues from each other.

    On the 'Alliance' side were chairs, somewhat higher than one might expect; on the trolls' side, woven pillows, though still, the Drakkari representatives loomed large over the ancient oak. Malakk made to speak but was surprised when it was the human among them who spoke the first words.

    "Before we begin, I must thank my noble allies and our worthy adversaries for allowing my presence in place of my liege," Lady Prestor began, "And I must commend all who gather here now for their willingness to put aside past prejudices and recent pains, that we might put an end to this bloody conflict."

    Malakk smiled, "Well said, Lady Prestor, on this I think we can all agree, and as with that in mind, I cede the floor to you and yours to make your opening terms."

    It was Falstad who spoke next, chosen to speak for them all for these were his lands.

    "We gather here with intent to ratify a treaty between ourselves, the Wildhammer Nation, the Kingdom of Quel'Thalas and the Alliance with you, the Drakkari and Amani Empires. This treaty would see peace declared, borders acknowledged on all sides and captives from both sides returned to their kindred."

    Zul'jin raised a single hand, "And thus, all participants are to be acknowledged as equals under this mutual, binding law, to which we all agree no? For their can be no fair agreements between disparate parties."

    One could almost see Anesterian repress a violent, disgusted spasm at that, before answering tersely, "Of course, so long as we all concur to respect one another's borders and sovereignty over our own lands."

    Seeing Zul'jin's stare sharpen, Malakk leapt in, grinning, it was a friendly one he thought, as he tapped the table, "In these matters we all concur, thus, our agreement so far. Unto the Alliance, the Wildhammer and the Quel'Dorei, we the Drakkari shall withdraw from the Southern Seas entirely, return unto you captured members of the Silver Hand & Lordaeron Army, as well as offer safe passage from Dalaran to your territories."

    Zul'jin's huff was low, his one eye never leaving Anesterian, "And we Amani shall cease bombarding the Eastern Coast and withdraw our forces from the aforementioned territories in these lands and respect your claims to them forevermore. Generous of us I am thinking."

    "Almost suspiciously so some might say," Anesterian intoned, before cursing at how he stumbled into an obvious trap.

    Malakk leaned back feeling more at ease, his smile fading, "While all sides hold no shortage of leverage, there is something we wished to add to the agreement thus far."

    Magni arched his brow, "Given how much was detailed in letters, I find it suspect you wish to change the terms so suddenly."

    "Merely a precaution," Malakk offered gamely, "You see, many among your nations hold in their hands a great many things precious to us that we would see returned. Amani and Frostmane Relics, the dearly departed remains and their codices."

    Falstad nodded slowly, "The mummies from temples in our lands, battle trophies and the like. Not something I imagine one would like to surrender, but hardly a heavy price."

    Zul'jin tapped the table, "We are people with a great love for our kindred and our ancestors, and thus we hold all that was in high regard. So much so that we would surely know if something were, say… damaged in transit, or was mysteriously broken in the intervening weeks between now and their return to us."

    Magni huffed, "And I imagine some people might then struggle to get back to us if we did not turn over every scrap in pristine condition?"

    Zul'jin shrugged languidly.

    Malakk's interceded with more gentle tones, "For this to work, we must all operate in good faith, but I am sure you can see why, given the circumstances, we might show concern for such things."

    Lady Prestor was quick to speak, "In these matters, could not the Alliance request a return of their own captured artifacts?"

    "If they are wrongly in our possession then assuredly," Malakk smiled, "Of course, as Royal Councilor Lianne had sworn the people of Tirisfal and all that lies within them to me, some claims would no longer be valid."

    Arcanist Doan seethed at this, muttering through gritted teeth, "And yet our military victories are not valid?"

    Zul'jin's tone was like ice, "Your people never sought to sign treaties with us; show me where my ancestors surrendered to you and then we can talk about legitimate holdings."

    Falstad raised his hand to forestall the coming argument.

    "I think we are drifting off-topic, and while we can assuredly draw up a list of items we might request back, especially from Tyr's Temple," Zul'jin flicked his braid as if preening, "We should, for now, focus on the methods the people and the property shall be returned to where they belong."

    "I concur," Malakk said airily, "In this matter, I would think our past discussions regarding a neutral security force, accompanying chosen representatives who can inspect and oversee these matters would still be acceptable?"

    There was a brief pause as hands were raised, and Falstad nodded, "Very well, we shall summon the Trade Coalition representatives from our respective camps and then continue with the technicalities. But first, a point on neutral grounds in case we need to further confer in the future…"

    The debates would carry on for hours, but as the day began drawing to a close, one could claim the war had truly ended… For now, at least.

    "Cheers," Intricately carved jade goblets tapped and were raised high into the air.

    The sun had long since set and Mallak stood with Zul'jin atop the Altar of Zul as celebrations reigned down below, each with a glass of blessed wine in their hands.

    "That went well, I am thinking," Malakk intoned.

    "We worked well together," Zul'jin concurred, "I am doubtful they shall be all that even handed, but so long as those goblins do their work, we can assure some even-handedness to things."

    Malakk pulled his goblet away from his mouth, nodding as he add, "I am sure they shall do fine work, given how much I am compensating them."

    Zul'jin snorted, "Be careful with the Trade Coalition, they are an unseemly and unreliable lot."

    "Sound advice, but whatever happens, I am heartened by your support in this, whatever you may gain from it going forward."

    Zul'jin shrugged, "It shall be well in the end; whatever hopes you have, this peace shall not last, but this gives me more time to put the final pieces onto something that needs a delicate touch."

    Malakks ears twitched, "Oh, so intriguing~ Tell me more."

    Zul'jin shook his head, "Not yet, I like to keep my surprises close to the chest after all, it is more exciting that way, no?"

    Malakk huffed, "Very well, keep your secrets."

    The crowing of a great Dragonhawk rang out above the revelers and golden fire spilled into the air, sparking something in Malakk's memory. "On another matter, before he was captured, Krag'Jin and your Hala'zhi have brought some long not practiced festivals to my attention. It is my hope to see the Summer Solstice Solar Festivities returned to the lands I now rule."

    Zul'jin's usually sharp expression softened, ever so slightly, "To see the golden feathers and silks dance again in lands long since lost would be a joy indeed…"

    The matters of politics and war quieted for the time, the pair turned their attention to the all-important business of living.

    Thanks again to @Ebanu8 for editing, I hope folks enjoy this chapter!

    So yeah, Malakk continues to not be doing good; also with points about him becoming boringly moralistic in mind (Cos seriously, good points there) I decided to lean back into some of his earlier characterization. Malakk still has an honor code, but he's also a politician and he's also willing to break said honor code if given what he deems just cause. IE, if the Alliance break the treaty he's willing to use scorched earth, cos its technically 'their fault' but that's rather contorted logic to say the least.

    I ended up contrasting and comparing Katherine and Malakk's scenes in the first half, I rather enjoyed doing so, sort of a "Not so different" thing. Also yes, Thermaplugg cos he's not gone all atomized yet and it felt unlikely to me the Gnomes would send the High Tinkerer in.

    Zul'jin back and like myself learning from past mistakes, IE, trying to wrap this war up too totally, too soon; also I do genuinely hold said opinion on the Second War and feel Zul'jin would too. Hence him being so leery to sign on with Malakk throughout this, he didn't want to get caught up in the Drakkari's momentum.

    Again, moral and pride compromises for pragmatism cos Malakk is trying to claw his way out of a hole, plus more foreshadowing with Katherine and company. The Dark Iron being isolated is based on RL stuff with nations under embargoes and the like being kept isolated from trade and by extension info, so they get everything months late and through secondary sources, IE Goblin slave traders.

    I still really enjoy writing Malakk and Lianne talking. ALso did you know Zul'jin and Malakk never directly spoke in the first version of this story? Absurd. I figure things would still be tense between the Alliance and none Alliance members, and Anasterian is rather worn out by life in general at this point, let alone fear for Kael'Thas.

    Zuljin's point regarding the lack of treaties is actually based on real history and actual Indigenous Rights and Lan Back movements;. IE, by the standards of war agreed upon many "formerly" colonial states are still essentially squatting on land never ceded to them by any legal means, thus by their own standards they are thieves. The fact Azeroth's wars historically were so all or nothing, IE drive our to kill everyone different than one's self and the general isolation of trolls, Gnolls ETC, indicates to me there's never really been much in the way of truces between these groups. Also this move is how Malakk intends to offset the Frostmane's upset-ness, IE returning tons of their ancestral artifacts to them.

    Ending off on a chat to show this segment of the story has ended, and we are now essentially heading into the epilogue. Also some world building and foreshadowing that may or may not come to pass.
     
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    World Building: Treaty Territories
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    • World Building: Treaty Territories​

    This post will include a map and some of the details about what it means and how the treaty works that aren't super relevant for the cast to discuss right now, but are hopefully interesting/informative, with that in mind:

    The Grizzlemaw did manage to re-snag their former client states the Oneqwa Nations as full on allies in their federation and are also expanding out across Dragonblight's coast. This secured them new allies, some mines and also denies the Drakkari an excellent series of ports and water ways they really wanted, Malakk will be most vexed when he finds out but can't do anything about it.

    The Amani mostly getting the Eastern Sea-Board, though the fact this area was always 'kind' of theirs anyway makes it a minor victory at best, especially as Tyr's Bay can still utilize the waters for fishing and security purposes. Still, this makes it easy for Zul'jin to manage his newly acquired states and observation points/colonies and he's secured the mountain paths into Zul'Aman from Lordaeron as well. Now he needs to fortify and continue investing in his navy if he wants trade to function.

    I decided to separate the Wildhammer & Quel'Dorei from the Alliance color wise, because while they are working together right now they are still very much doing their own thing over being active members again, while still being aligned among themselves. Also if you're wondering why the Wildhammer haven't spread over all of the Highlands, I don't know either but my best guess is that despite being pretty to look at, the land is spiritually sick, and thus colonizing it is the work of generations to steadily purify, unless you want the animals to die and the crops to poison your body & mind.

    In Hillsbrad, the Alliance got the better deal. They have taken Gilnean waters and completely landlocked Stomgarde and can now extract Tarif payments from any and all Goblin ships sailing North. The land being split in half like it is, was done with the next round of warfighting in mind. IE, Hillsbrad is really easy to invade from the coast, but the areas around it are super easy to fortify, what with the high mountains and giant lakes. This makes Hillsbrad easy to conquer but hard to defend; thus letting Malakk stretch his forces outside the defensible areas ensures that when the next war begins he will either have to retreat instantly or fight a losing battle to hold onto these territories.

    Not much to write home about regarding the Drakkari, for all the lives lost their territorial gains have barely changed save absorbing maybe a third and a bit of Stromgarde which had more to do with the Witherbark & the states ailing position pre invasion than anything they did. The lines within are basically signifying the Satrapies/states. IE Tirisfal is overseen by De'Jana/Lianne and Callia, (Plus the Church), Silverpine by Krag'Jin and the Covens, Alterac and Hillsbrad by Beve, Western-Eld is the Barovs, and Stromgarge by Galen. Naturally they all have people beneath them managing territories within their territories as well. Fun fact, Zul'Drak is divided the same way, with about 30 or so states within it. As for the Orcs, Howling Fjord is slightly bigger than Durotar and their population's smaller than Thrall's Horde anyway, so they'll be quite comfortable.

    Beyond that, not much to say, the Gurubashi states (IE, Zul'Gurub is hegemon but not master) are watching all of the happenings in the North with interest, as are the Trad Cartels, Dark Horde and Dark Iron Empires. All of them are feeling things out and making preparations, but they aren't alone in this. Thrall and Taretha and company are all hanging out in that triangle between Amani, Drakkari & Wildhammer territory, still not sure what to do with them or my refugees given how the stories evolved. Any other un-marked territory is either not managed by any unified force, or didn't matter for the sake of the map; Gilneas still exists but they aren't in talks with the Alliance. Yet.

    Anyway, that's all for now, as it is I think I'll change up the epilogue I had planed. Instead of one big epilogue that covers each 'zone' I'm going to do a sort of Alliance and company epilogue, or maybe just an EK based epilogue to finally pay off all my ominous hinting, and then a Drakkari centric epilogue, thoughts?
     
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    • So... I Hate to ask, but I am kind of curious what people want/expect from Thrall at this point as there seemed to be a fair amount of curiosity over his fate.

    I confess the original plan was to just leave his fate ambiguous along side Taretha's but I did like exploring their immediate survival concerns & developments.

    As it is, if he (& likely Taretha) went to join the Drakkari Orcs he'd maybe end up as Nazgre's assistant or possibly be discovered as the heir of the Frostwolf but the latter is very unlikely. Either way, Taretha would deal with a fair bit of discrimination, but might live on the border and work as an intermediary with the Grizzlemaw Nation.

    The brother sister duo could also just go off and do their own thing, or stick with the group that dislikes both the Alliance & Horde and continues to subsist in the mountains as a semi independent commune; or possibly be absorbed by Ravenholdt manor.

    Signing on with the refugees heading West (Who themselves are likely motivated by anger at the treaty and how long its taking refuge to be found) but the Orcs might have trouble there.

    So... yeah, thoughts?
     
    The Torrents of War: Part 9 - The Emerald Treaty
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    • The Torrents of War: Part 9 - The Emerald Treaty​

    The mid-Spring Sun shone brightly across the former capital of Lordaeron, a welcome thing for humans, but not so for any Ice Troll or Wolvar due to the unfamiliar heat. Still, the Shamans begged off making a more comfortable climate to focus on the farms, ensuring that Drakkari in the city remained miserably muggy.

    Arctikus was more used to the warmer temperatures of the South, but with the signing of the 'Emerald Treaty', so named for the forests of the Hinterlands, her mood had been foul. So much so, she largely refused to be around her contemporaries if she could help it; a leader needed composure and her heart was too frayed for that.

    Sitting atop the sloping tiled roof of a tower overlooking the great lake, she was unable to even spy the Alteraci Mountains in the distance. A part of her truly mourned to think home was still so far away.

    Her hand balled into a fist, 'We should have taken Ironforge first, or launched dual invasions, or something!'

    The quaking tension tensing her back faded and she let out an exhausted sigh, Malakk's words ringing in her head, 'It is what it is, but it did not have to be this.'

    Any further thought was shattered by the familiar padding of, "Hail, Chief Rageclaw," She called from the roof, angling her head down to see the Wolvar poking theirs out the window.

    "Hail, Great Mother," They answered coolly, and before she could ask why they sniffed her out, the Wolvar added, "The Relics have arrived. Library."

    Pushing herself forward she surged off the roof, snatched the beam as she began to drop and swung herself in through the open stained-glass window and into the white stone chamber.

    She offered a hasty bow before racing out the door, through the tight winding stairwell and back into the open, cavernous halls of the royal palace. Her foot falls carried her swiftly between Drakkari guards, human staff, and through great doors of ornately decorated oak until she came to a stop at the library.

    Several of her kindred were already gathered and waiting, they all turned and bowed, "Great Mother."

    Swallowing, she nodded, "My children, my family… Let us see what has been returned to us, and what we shall have to remake with our own hands."

    The doors began to ease open with a creak, and a tremor of fear and uncertainty ran through her before she forced herself to march through inside, passing Malakk with a stiff salute as he left them with little fanfare.

    The quiet patter of feet slapping against stone echoed louder than any cannon or storm and finally, someone she couldn't quite place, broke the silence.

    "Look, look, the cleansing jurta!"

    "The last judge's gavel, by the gods, it's still in one piece!"

    "The ancestors Almanac, Loa be praised!"

    Their words began to fade to her as she came upon the store remains, large, hexagonal boxes of stone, lined with inscriptions and worked stone patterns. Her bones and blood ached as she came to one that looked just like the others, and yet she could feel it calling to her and knelt before it.

    She did not hear others seeking their own lost ones, too absorbed in her task.

    Gently prying it open, Acrikus's stomach lurched, her heart hammered in her chest at the mass of troll bones within and the all too fresh, brand new skull, adorned with a familiar set of painted ivory rings.

    "My son…" She muttered, tears streaming down her face, salt tainting her lips, as she pressed the lifeless bone to her brow and sobbed.



    It was rare for Sylvanas that her duties and personal interests aligned, and in truth that was ideal. For one whose life is built around war and bloodshed, finding elements on the battlefield was rarely a joy.

    'Still, if it lets me be here for this, then I am grateful,' She thought, taking another furtive glance around the emerald forests of the Hinterlands from her perch on the remains of Hiri'watha. Down below, several hundred trolls along with a handful of their allies sat in waiting under armed escort, marching down from Eastweld through the Great Ravine.

    'It will be the scheduled time soon,' She stilled and focused her enchanted spyglass, "The Drakkari approach!"

    Her and the Wildhammer forces tensed while several Drakkari let out cheers of joy.

    Sylvanas cast a sharp gaze to High Examiner Tae'thelan, the elf bowed, ornate gold and blue robes flowing as he assured, "The arcane chambers are ready. If these Drakkari have infected our people with so much as a light cold, we shall know before we return them home."

    Sylvanas nodded but kept her gaze solely on the marching trolls. There were guards as expected, but also an escort of Wildhammer Gryphon Riders overseeing their march. The Dalaranese citizens were escorted rode along the back of monstrous mammoths, pulling carts laden with what she supposed were the citizens' goods.

    Her heart skipped a beat at the sight of one woman walking among the Dalaranese; pale white hair shimmering in the golden sun, and adorned in respectable hunters' equipment, walking with a dignified poise befitting a seasoned Farstrider, was her sister.

    "Vereesa."

    The name tore itself from her mouth before she could silence it, and only centuries of conditioning kept her composure as the diplomats exchanged sullied words of peace and honored agreements.

    Finally, after a near hour spent organizing supplies and parting ways with promises of further prisoner exchanges in the coming days, the trolls started to leave under escort.

    Finally, did Sylvanas have a chance to break from her ranks and move as High Priestess Liadrin and Faltad saw to inspecting and organizing the Dalaranese.

    Finally, finally, finally, Sylvanas found her sister alive and well, yet she was almost afraid to touch the younger elf as she began to turn from inspecting a satchel and gasped.

    "Sylvy!" She cried, flinging her arms around Sylvanas.

    The air bursting from Sylvasnas's lungs as relief flooded her frame, and she encircled Vereesa in her cape as when they were children.

    "Vereesa, I knew you'd survive, I just knew," She whispered more to herself than anyone.

    Her sister sighed in relief.

    "I am glad one of us was sure," She squeezed Sylvanas tighter, "Thank you for coming for me."

    "Always," Sylvanas intoned, pulling back enough to look her sister in the eyes and rest their heads together, "I will always be there for you little sister."



    Malakk had been grateful when Dalaran faded into the distance behind him as he rode on dragon-back towards Southshore.

    He was not so much a coward as to ignore the place, but he'd lost Moorabi there, lost much honor there, lost many lives there, a phyrric victory too costly for his and the Empire's good.

    Every time he'd seen the streets, he recalled the hectic battle and how it harkened back to the wars of Zul'Drak which he had sworn to end. He would remember his hasty decisions, his arrogant carelessness and think of just how much it cost – it ached and shamed him.

    Despite the damages though, the city was recovering, slowly.

    The scent of ash had faded, the streets were cleaned, and repairs had begun, temporary shelters erected to house the homeless and destitute. Even still, the city remained a place of tension and turmoil, the locals eyeing them with no small amount of suspicion and loathing.


    Dalaran had not been a city of merchants and record keepers like Lordaeron, but a house of mages and scholars. It seemed everyday he was getting word of some new attack, an explosion, an assassination, or sabotage.

    The Nerubians had been pressuring for more and more draconian efforts at crackdowns and control or to simply excise the Dalaranese altogether, but such an act after his failures would be politically disastrous at the very least!

    It was fortunate then that much of that activity had dried up in recent days as more and more Dalaranese marched East and South for extradition. Only some remained, mostly their few collaborators who would find no welcome in the Alliance, as well as a handful of half-bloods who seemed uncertain they'd fare better anywhere else.

    Besides them, barely even a fraction remained, instead taking their belongings and a sampling of gold from the private safes of dead oligarchs. If nothing else, that would make the Nerubians happy, leaving them to work on their underground laboratories overseeing the frayed Ley Lines. Repopulating the surface city would be in his and Beve's hands.


    'But that is for another day,' He mused, as his dragon swooped in for a landing on a grassy knoll by a small watch tower. The vast plans of Hillsbrad spread out in all directions, and in the distance, he could make out the humble city of Soutshore and those he had come for.

    "Be ready my friends," He called, the forward scouts saluting and linking up with his escorts to await their counterparts' arrival.

    For his part, Malakk strode towards the watchtower and looked upon Prince Kael'Thas. Bedecked in his long robes that blended gold and black, with long hair tied back in a tight ponytail and three emerald orbs circling him, he managed to cut a regal figure despite the circumstances.

    "You shall be returning home in short order, may we never have to meet again under such blood terms," Malakk said.

    Kael practically hissed, small fangs bared, "Know this Troll, you have made an enemy of the Great Houses who crafted Silvermoon from nothing. Know that just as your ancestors did, you shall learn the wrath of the Highborn, and know that if we do meet again, I shall destroy you completely and utterly."

    Malakk felt some of his guards tense, but chuckled in amusement, "Well, as far as goodbyes go, that is memorable, but threats I have faced far worse and more odious than yours."

    The prince scowled but remained silent and as the tension abated, Malakk turned his attention to the approaching procession.

    There was no shortage of Elves, from their great blade-wielding Spellbreakers to Rangers and certain high-ranking figures, such as Rommath, obscured as mere mages or Priests. There were also Gryphon riders of the Wildhammers and the Elves' Dragonhawk riders, the beautiful beasts carrying blue and silver banners between their delicate claws.

    He was somewhat surprised to see several Gnomes in their company.

    Of course, the person he wanted to see most among them was Krag'jin, and he was pleased to see the troll marching under his own power, not escorted like an abused slave. His armor was absent but respectable leather pants and vests adorned his frame, and he offered a cheery wave as his procession came to a halt.

    One of the Spellbreakers stepped forward, flicking golden locks over her ears.

    "We have come to see the Prince of Silvermoon, first and only son of Anestarian, Councilor of Dalaran and he who is blessed by the phoenix restored to our great nation!"

    'That was actually shorter than what I expected, having perused their literature,' Malakk supposed they wanted this over with and so raised his arms.

    "Just as you wish to see one of your beloved subjects returned, so too do I, so let us resolve this meeting in peace and fulfil our oaths as enshrined in the Emerald Treaty!"

    Both entourages parted, and slowly each prisoner began moving through the crowd and towards their own people. Malakk however was surprised to see a Gnome in bright pink glasses, with short, cropped matching hair and a comfortable pressed suit in dark cottons marching alongside Krag'jin.

    'She carries herself too sharply to be anything but a fighter, and there's no better time to betray us than now,' He mused, thinking to his hidden forces stationed a short distance away and the handful of Syndicate agents positioned in Southshore, all ready and waiting.

    Krag'jin and Kael passed one another and for one terrible moment the world stood still, something tense hung in the air just waiting to snap…

    But nothing happened, and the two passed one another by with a shared glance before turning away from the other and continuing their approach.

    Malakk's chest untightened ever so slightly and he forced a smile, "Ah Krag'jin, welcome back to us!"

    "Huay Drakkani, my apologies for you needing to surrender such a choice hostage for me," The troll said with a cheery salute.

    "It was bound to happen with the treaty," He waved off, "Tell me, were you treated well?"

    He chuckled, "It was a tight fit in that submarine, but I managed to make my captors every bit as uncomfortable as myself."

    The Gnome snorted, "No questions there."

    Before Malakk could turn his attention to her, Seraphine strode up to them, "My Forest Lord, I knew you would return."

    "My Harvest Queen, never doubt it," he crowed, as they met closer to the tower, and he took her hands into his own.

    The Gnome fiddled with her glasses, jaw tight, "He was telling the truth about the human woman?" She muttered in a scandalized tone, her cheeks turning red like apples.

    Malakk's brow arched, as he glanced back at the Elves who were fawning over Kael'Thas and subtly inspecting him for glamour and compulsions, his own people doing the same with Krag'jin. Thus, he turned his attention to the Gnome and spoke.

    "Yes, though I am told it is a good deal more complicated than a mere tryst or conventional marriage," Seeing her attention on him, he added, "Should I ask what it was he said?"

    She shook her head, "Too vulgar to bear repeating here, unless such humor is to your tastes."

    Malakk shrugged, "Rarely, so we can leave it. Now might I know who stands before me?"

    She saluted crisply with an undertone of cheerful humour.

    "Kelsey Steelspark, consider my presence here as a bit of good faith on behalf of Gnomeragan's council and," She glanced back at the Elves, "To ensure no one over there gets a hot spell hand."

    Malakk chuckled, "Such a kind gesture, and I suppose if this treaty is to hold, we should begin starting to trust one another."

    "Exactly!" She cheered, "Glad to see that sentiment here, Huay Drakkani. Oh, though while I'm here I must inform you that some of the Dalaranese artifacts returned seem to be forgeries."

    Malakk sighed in exasperation, "I assume you have a list, but I can already assume as to which stock they were collected from."

    Many relics and records had been lost in the fighting, while most had been studied sufficiently that returning the originals was acceptable, but the Nerubians felt differently on several cases. Despite their own treaty being enforced with suitable measures, Malakk knew that was only upheld so much by either party.

    "Your Nerubian friends, I take it?" She said conversationally.

    "A king does not tell, and a diplomat does not ask," He said jokingly, "But I shall lean on those responsible and see to it the matter is resolved as best I can."

    Kesley nodded, "Appreciated, and if nothing else, you could always try and open a line of communication between them and us. I know many arcanists who are positively tripping over themselves in the hopes of gaining a commission for work here to meet with them, now that the North Sea is cut off."

    Malak k shrugged, "This one shall endeavor but can make no promises; the Nerubians are not my subjects after all."

    The Gnome nodded in agreement.

    "I'll pass that sentiment along once I return home," She offered him a crisp salute and at his polite bow added, "Oh and, I'd recommend removing those Syndicate agents from Southshore by evening."

    "They will be gone by noon, now that we are done."

    "Glad to see you are so conciliatory, Huay, good day!"

    Malakk waved her off and smirked, 'I like that one.'



    Malakk was alone, insomuch as he was ever alone, and so sunk into his throne with a groan.

    'These last few weeks have been exhausting.'

    And it was not quite yet done, but with Dalaran now evacuated, his fleet and forces returning and most of his remaining subjects seemingly unwilling to uproot their lives… Well, if nothing else, things were settling into some sort of uneasy peace. How long it would last, who knew, but he would not be dancing on a razor-thin wire at the very least.

    'Even if what awaits me at Gundrak shall be no easier,' He thought, eyes drooping.

    The period of mourning would be long and exhaustive for everyone.

    The anti-war contingents were divided in their ideals, but united in their critique.

    His reputation was marred by Dalaran to say the least; but he could at least lay the blame for Boralus on Ashvane's rotting shoulders.

    As the doors to his study slid open, Malakk waved his Speaker forward, "How fares the Homefront?"

    Zala'Raz offered a curt bow and brushed his white mohawk back, with several stacks of scrolls in his arms and a piqued look on his face.

    "This one is terribly sorry, but there was no convincing the Tuskar of Dragonblight to rescind their accord with the Grizzlemaw nation, and the Furbolgs will not give up the Southern quarries."

    Malakk clicked his tongue and lightly tapped his skull against his throne.

    "For ten thousand years they refuse to leave their forests, but suddenly when its inconvenient for me, they want to become miners," Malakk scoffed, "I should have secured Dragonblight sooner, rather than assume I'd have time or no need of it. Still, the quarries of Jintha'Kalar remains ours, so that is something."

    The boy Speaker released a low breath he didn't realize he'd been holding and added, "They are also content to see the valley between it declared as a neutral zone for trade, but wish for no settlement of the area itself."

    Malakk's brow arched at this, "Good and vexing; I was hoping to organize a new settlement there, but it is what it is. Do you have any other news for me, my young friend?"

    Zala'Raz nodded, placing the scrolls at Malakk's table-side.

    "Yes, Huay. That Flynn Fairwind fellow has managed to secure the loyalty of several pirate ships and seems to be settling in well enough."

    "Good, good, they will prove very helpful in the days ahead and I like the cut of that boy's jib."

    His Speaker flashed his fangs, "You are not alone in this thinking, the Navarch wishes to make him one of her vice admirals."

    Malakk shrugged, "If she thinks he will be a good fit I am amendable, though I do ponder how the orcs shall fit into things given how close they are to the Temple of Gral."

    Another thing for him to be constantly managing.

    "We shall see," Zala'Raz said noncommittedly, tapping at one of the slimmer scrolls, "I do have another matter, rumors mostly, but pertinent."

    "Oh, do tell?"

    "There is word, rumors mostly, coming from western traders of a mighty Magnataur named Grom'thar the Thunderbringer, causing grief for many of the Westerward Taunka."

    "Only one? The Taunka are normally much too fierce for only one to cause such grief," Malak mused, though he supposed with the Nerubians still recovering, the Magnataur might have grown stronger than usual, but so soon?

    "Not quite, Your Grace. Some think he is leading many raids, as word has spread of loot and tariffs being taken to a 'Bloodmar'."

    That made Malakk sit up a little straighter, "Interesting… Bloodmar could be a Magnatur of course, another powerful one like Grom'har, but if it is a place. And their raiders are well organized as well, most unusual. They must have a backer of sorts."

    He tilted his head to the side and chuckled. "Well, I think we have some good work lined up for the Ragelcaw and our scouts when I return home, and a fine chance to begin acclimating the Orcs to some worthwhile responsibilities."

    "A wise decision your grace," Zala'Raz bowed, "Will you need me for anything else?"

    "No, my friend, go and rest and let us see what the morning brings."

    NOTES:

    This chapter was a nightmare, I couldn't decide if I wanted to write it or just rewrite my older epilogues, or what to include or how to structure it but I got there, I finally got there and I hope it was worth the wait!

    Once again, thanks to @Ebanu8 for their amazing assistance with this!

    The first scene is very much meant to be a parallel with the second and also to hearken us back to how we got here and to hopefully give Arctikus some closure. I loved Sylvanas when she was alive and cool and not evil, so I always try and give her some respect where I can. Also, given the varied abilities of magic in this setting it occurred to me that magical sleeper agents are totally possible, so yeah there's checks for that.

    I'm fairly pleased with the structure of this chapter allowing for a steady time skip to show aspects of the treaty in practice and finally covering some lingering plot threads like how impossible holding Dalaran was going to be.

    Thanks to whoever suggested the Grom'har and Magnataur related ideas! Also the thrilling resolution to the Grizzlemaw sub plot XD I think that's everything, hope this was fun, as always, comments, questions and critique are welcome!
     
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    • As peace takes meaning and the embers of war fade, so do other players make their play for power.
     
    Rogue Factions
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    • Rogue Factions
    As the North settles into an uneasy peace, the Southern states make ready to take advantage of the new status quo.​

    A Blade in the Shadows

    The hour was late and Zul'Gurub's people quiet as Shadow Hunter Vosh'gajin slipped silently through the back alleys and side streets. The sound of the city's churning rivers filled the air with a tranquil air, moonlight reflecting off its surface and filling her eyes with silvery light.

    She danced around aging monuments and grand temple towns, their ancient bronze stones interwoven with carefully tended vines.

    Three heads dangled from her hand, not making a sound as they swayed in the night as she rebounded off lush treetops and into the temple of the Spider. Catwalking across the stonework she dropped down into its heart, right behind the towering form of the flame-haired High Priestess Mar'li.

    "Priestess!" One of the others hissed, and Vosh'gajin's gaze flickered to the voice's owner: The diminutive High Priest Thekal

    By his side was High Priestess Jeklik. Both readied for combat and Mar'li tightened her grip on her ivory staff, but she did not act even as the blade rested against her back.

    "Welcome again to my temple, Shadow Hunter, I take it you had happy hunting?"

    Vosh'gajin snorted and tossed the three heads to the floor, letting them rebound off the stone as she pulled away from the towering troll and drew her other dagger, spinning each blade in her hands.

    "You live up to your deadly reputation," Thekal murmured.

    "Kilnara will not be happy her sister is dead," Mused Jeklik.

    Mar'li waved her staff in disregard.

    "It was necessary, they had fallen too deep into the Atali's embrace. This act has saved their souls, even as it damned their bodies," She motioned to the alter behind her, "Let us see what Jin'do the Hexxer, Arlokk and Venoxis recall of their followers, quickly now, before their flesh begins to rot."

    Vosh'gajin watched them work with idle curiosity as the priests placed each head upon the alter; Thekal sprinkled some ground herbs as Jeklik revealed surgical tools. Marli however turned to face her.

    Vosh'gajin tensed, but the troll woman smiled disarmingly.

    "Fear not, Shadow Hunter, there is no place in this story where we betray you. This is a great service you and your… 'Horde' have done for us," She glanced back, "By this time tomorrow, we shall know every one of their lieutenants and proceed to thoroughly purge the Atali from this city."

    Letting her blades idle a little, she smiled and bowed, "Always happy to be of service, when its reciprocal, yes?"

    Mar'li chuckled, her staff tapping against the stone, "It shall be, this one assures you. Once we have purged the heretics, things shall be stable, and Zul'Gurub's War Leader, Mandokir shall be able to marshal the power of every Gurubashi state."

    The woman's pleased smile had a hint of something sharp and predatory, her one open palm slowly closing around an errant mosquito and crushing it as she spoke, "When your Horde marches South, we too shall march North, and together, we shall crush Stormwind and divvy up the lands as we please."

    Defiant

    Edwin VanCleef's office had at different times in his life been a great hall, a royal apartment, and a hidden side room, overlooking an underground lake in the Deadmines. It had also at one point been little more than an old Kobold den, so the Westfall Lighthouse was far from the worst he dealt with.

    His chosen room was in ordered chaos, littered with receipts and records, leases and pocketbooks, and all manner of scribbled notes from spies and musings. To examine it all at once was madness, but Edwin had been a builder before he was a scout or revolutionary, putting things together was a skill he'd honed over decades.

    'And at the heart of it all, Lady Prestor,' He mused, dragging his sharpened quill down the page with such care he sliced through the paper like he was holding a blade.

    He was drawn from his musings by the familiar footfalls of Garn Mathers and Morgaine the Sly, and before they could knock he barked, "Let them in, Avarice."

    The door opened with a low creak and the pair marched in, saluting smartly in their polished leather armor and crimson masks, "Sir!"

    "I take it we have word from Klaven Mortwake?" He answered, lazily saluting back.

    "Yes sir," Morgain said, "He's managed to secure us safe harbor in Booty Bay, provided we can render our services to the city."

    Garn snorted, "Apparently some insane Tirasi nobleman's taken up piracy, calls his little fleet the Bloodsail_Buccaneers and the port could use some, expert assistance in fortifying and fighting."

    "That won't be difficult, still, a shame their leader is some blue-blooded noble; I might have otherwise thought them kinsmen." He shook his head, "Though it matters not, right now I will not be needing a fleet, not for what comes next at least."

    The pair looked at him curiously and Garn motioned at the table, "Sir, do you have… something in mind?"

    Edwin huffed, brushing dark locks behind his ears.

    "I have realized the architect of our recent misfortunes, in so much as any one person can be such a thing."

    For no matter who or what Lady Prestor was, she could not have controlled every detail, but she'd been both his foe and his sponsor through her cat's paw bloc of scheming nobles.

    "Sir?"

    "We are not ready to remove her from play just yet, her or the puerile monarch and effete nobles, but we shall be with time and the right tools." He turned away to brush his hand across a map of the lands, "I think we shall be sending some of our friends North, to gather funds and support for when we return."

    He traced a finger along to Stormwind, "Meanwhile, the other cells will remain in the ground, gathering support for us quietly as proxies and ensure we are not surprised again."

    No more trusting nobles, no more letting anyone but his agents give him sources and even then, trust but verify.

    Turning back to his soldiers, Edwin clasped his hands behind his back, "But before all of that, Brighteyes."

    The two soldiers stiffened as the mysterious assassin flickered into the room with nary a sound, her glowing eyes boring into his as she saluted.

    "I have a job for you and the Riverpaw, something to take care of while Prestor is away, a parting gift you might say and a reminder that the Defias shall return. Interested?"

    He didn't need to ask, the glint in her eyes to know the answer.

    The Blackrock Truce

    And thus, with the signing of this cipher, it is sworn to be that until such time as our enemies fall and we are lord of all we survey, that the Dark Iron Empire and the Horde shall make no war upon one another.

    On the name of my father, my people, and my life, I so swear it, let there be peace between us until all that stands between our nations and their glory are brought low.

    Their charcoal styluses leave their mark and the contract thrums and sings with magic as it binds them, and a low chorus of polite applause ring out from the chamber of black stone, held aloft above lava by dark steel alone.

    Rend Blackhand smiled, "I would say let this peace last forevermore, but that would suggest the Alliance dogs shall survive more than a handful of years."

    Emperor Dagran Thaurissan's gold and red robes flow with his sharp laugh, crimson eyes staring back at the Orc, "A handful? You are more generous than I, Warchief."

    Rend did not cast off his ceremonial robes and armor the moment he returned to Hordemar as he would like. He did not return to his war room, his training hall or his chambers as he might want, instead waving off his escort and marching towards the peak of the mountain.

    Claustrophobic walls of shaped black rock and grey steel surrounded him on all sides, lit by great braziers that released no smoke and cast the air in a quiet emerald light.

    He was not surprised when Voone fell in at his side, graceful and quiet, his leather vest and pants of finer make than his usual fair, as always Voone knew what Rend was thinking.

    "So, I hear we are at peace?"

    "For now at least," Rend smirked, "Given the Dwarves' sense of humor I'd almost be of a mind to negotiate with him again, if Blackrock were something I'd ever concede. But alas."

    Voone's sibilant chuckle echoed as they began passing by Dragonkin and up the more ornate stairways, "A bit of a shock though, pragmatic as it is, they did kill your brother after all."

    That fact still hurt and ached in his chest, but Rend was a Warchief first and a brother second, and as his gaze drifted across the Dragonkin a part of him thrummed with the truth.

    "Yes, well, war is war and I'd be a poor Warchief to put my grudges above the glory of the Horde," He looked back at the crimson haired troll, "Though what of you? Not disappointed I hope?"

    Voone rolled his shoulders, "So long as you give me a mighty foe to test my wits against, I shall ever be satisfied in your service."

    Grand doors of black metal and gold patterns embedded with gems were pulled open before them, revealing a throne room that overlooked the Burning Steppes. It was resplendent and magnificent to the ordinary onlooker, if one lacked a sight for magic. In his eyes, Rend knew it was a dilapidated wreck.

    "My service, you mean," Cut in a smooth, aristocratic voice.

    Reclining on a half-broken throne, pouring over notes was Nefarian, the self-proclaimed Lord of Blackrock and all within it. Bedecked in his human guise, with dull red armor, sharp hawkish features and pale grey hair that hung just below his ears.

    Rend wanted to gut him.

    The pair knelt before him, Voone feigning fear, "Of course, of course, great one…"

    Nefarian's gaze flickered to Rend, "Master, the treaty is signed, and so for now at least, the Dwarves shall not be of concern to us."

    "This should not have been a concern at all with that which I have granted you," He sighed theatrically, "But a mortal mind can only use the glorious gifts I have given so crudely I suppose."

    He kept them waiting there in silence for several minutes, minutes that rankled every scrap of pride and patience Rend had worked so hard to earn in his long-short life. Finally, the dragon spoke.

    "You're still here? Go, run along, prepare for your wars with the humans, but do not act before my spies have given word."

    "As you say master, so shall it be," Rend intoned, rising to his feet and marching out of the chamber with Voone in tow, a silent smirk in his heart.

    'I may not be able to act so swiftly, but the Gnolls I supply, the bandits and trolls? Nefarian, your days as master shall be short indeed if I have my way.'

    As they returned to Hordemar and slipped into Rend's chamber, the long hidden privacy wards flaring as the door shut, Rend saw Voone's ears twitch.

    The troll shot forward, easily catching a playfully thrown knife as he did so, chuckling, "Getting lazy there little one."

    The lean troll woman reclining on Rend's lounge balanced a second knife on her fingertip, "Just taking it easy on you ol' man."

    Rend smile, arms thrown wide, "Ah, our dear girl, Vosh'gajin, you bring good news, I hope?

    The troll woman nodded, "All the bodies that needed to be added to the pyre have been, as they burn, we shall rise to glory upon the smoke."

    "Perfect."

    The Glory of Empire

    Across the mighty Shadowforge City the people stood in endless rows, massed into crowds on every street from the Dark Iron Highway, to The Iron Hall, the Shrine of Thaurissan and beyond.

    Their ashen skin touched by the ever-present glow of magma, the people of the empire stood and waited with baited breath. Their glowing red eyes locked upon the robed forms of the Imperial Preachers, each adorned with weighty masks, carved in the visage of the Great Founder, wreathed in flames.

    Emperor Dagran Thaurissan stood within the grand halls of the Imperial Seat, and gathered all around him were the Shadowforge Senate, chanting as one. He threw his arms wide, magic suffusing his voice as arcane and eldritch energies danced across the black and gold-lined halls.

    "Loyal children of the Dark Iron Empire, your emperor comes to you with grand news!"

    His words bled across hundreds of preachers, echoing from their steel maws, rebounding through the mountain halls to the cheers of his people.

    "With the twin blades of diplomacy and war-craft I have laid low our hated rivals above and compelled them to sally forth South! No longer will their paltry raids pester our patrols, no longer will Blackrock be burdened by nonbelievers!"

    "Hail the Emperor! Hail Ragnaros! Hail the Empire!" Dwarves beat their chests and howled with glee, rapturous applause shaking the cavernous walls like an earthquake, until he held up a hand for silence.

    "Now, my children, my friends, we stand at a crossroads in history! For our long and valiant struggle with the Enemy shall soon come to an end! To the North the cowardly Alliance lies fraying and broken, and the ones who brought them low begged an audience with us. Now, with this accord the rebels begin to fall, no longer propped up by their Alliance masters! The hour soon approaches, the path to glory and dominion is before us, and there is little the Enemy can do to stop us!"

    The streets erupted into glorious revelry and heady proclamations of loyalty, oaths of sacrifice and promised justice.

    "Yet we must be wary! For though the Enemy shall seek to take advantage of our honorable and fair-minded nature to protect their stolen glory, we know better! No longer shall we tolerate their saboteurs and spies in a bid to enlighten them to the true path. No more, I say! Let us cleanse ourselves in holy fire, let us purge that which is not loyal and true, and when we are done, the march North shall begin!"

    Oaths of eternal fealty and adoration spilled out from thousands, hundreds of thousands of mouths, their cries and howls filling the mountain halls.

    An image flickered along Thaurissan's back, a gargantuan, looming presence, blistering and terrible and glorious all at once began to bleed into his body and mind, across every preacher and mask in the empire. Their bodies stiffened and flames spilled from their tongues as skin crackled and the roar of an inferno was twisted into words fill the mountain halls.

    "So, speaks the Firelord! The Dark Iron shall bear the glory of this Empire to the end of this world and the stars beyond. The foes of truth and justice shall break before our armies of fire and steel. Heed this vessel of purest flame and march in the name of Ragnaros!"

    The Holy City

    The Golden Throne was illuminated by dim torchlight, cast in a gentle amber glow as sharp whispers and harsh words flew across the chamber. Rastakhan found exhaustion creeping its way into his senses with this rampant speculation.

    "Every Priest of the Northern Loa, and even Gral have grown silent on the savage tribe; they still share with us their blessings and wisdom, but no longer will they speak of them, the Drakkari!" Yazma's words were sharp, and a rictus scowl was etched onto her tattooed features.

    "I would almost fear vile magic at work," Zul said gently.

    "Lest you have proof, I caution against implying the Loa could be laid so low," Rastakhan groused.

    "Forgive me, My Liege. These are merely… unprecedented times."

    Rastakhan almost wanted to laugh at the obvious discomfort, caused by the eternal thorn in his side.

    "Yes, you failing to predict the invasion and its conclusion is rather new territory. Is it not?"

    Rather than leave the prophet to languish in humiliation, Rastakhan leaned forward on his throne and struck the gold to silence the beginnings of a spat between Yazma and Vilnak'dor, drawing all eyes to him as he proclaimed:

    "We shall send to the savage tribe's petty chief a small troop of priests and a messenger. Their duty shall be to call him to account as we once did with the Amani's failed chief, for beginning a war without their emperor's consent and to assess the worth of their Priesthood."

    Hexlord Raal suddenly pressed his head to the ground, "God King Rastakhan, may your servant speak?"

    Rastakhan inclined his head ever so briefly and said, "I trust you speak in place of Vilnak'dor for a reason?"

    "I do, though I beg a thousand pardons in doing so," the Navarch answered.

    "Then speak."

    "I thank you, God King Rastakhan!" He got up on his knees and said, "With the Northern Kingdoms weakened and an ambitious pretender parading across the continent, I would recommend keeping a close eye on the Gurubashi, lest they be… led astray."

    Vilnak'dor hissed, "You think those mewling Jungle Trolls would betray the chosen tribe, the God-King of our people, for some petty tyrant?"

    Raal swallowed and answered, "Honor, loyalty and obedience to rank and caste, these things are not well-practiced by the lesser tribes."

    Before his general could speak again Rastakhan waved his hand, "They are like children, it is true, loathe as I am to admit. Raal makes a fair argument nonetheless, my general; we shall observe the lesser tribes more closely, and ensure that another mishap like what happened with the forest trolls and their brutish allies does not happen again."

    Turning his attention back to the council he said, "This meeting is done. For now, return to your duties. I must commune with Rezan on other matters."

    They all bowed and began filing out of the chamber in a neat and orderly manner, the lower castes respectfully parting and making way for the higher caste members to leave first before following behind. Then the guards followed behind as well, leaving only his secret honor guard as his protectors.

    Once he was alone on his burdensome throne, as Rastakhan leaned back, he adopted a grim face, his mind filled with frustration as his thoughts frayed, Rezan's presence touching his spirit.

    'Why… Why has this upstart not been struck down for his hubris, oh mighty Rezan?' He thought, 'Why is it that he enjoys rewards and prestige and a greatly expanded Empire, while we languish in solitude and sloth as our own glory slowly fades away? Are you displeased with us, somehow?'

    The Loa had no answer for him, and Rastakhan sank further into his throne.

    Unseen

    In the shadows of the new dominion, in the backwoods and camps of soldiers-turned-brigands, dulcet tones disguised fangs and claws as word of a new order spread.

    The Argus Wake.

    Some say it is little better than a brigand order, fit only to pillage and plunder like countless would be villains set to take advantage of the chaos.

    Some say it is a secret order, made to resist the oppression of the new Drakkari tyrants who lord over their people with inflated entitlement.

    Some say it is nothing but a mere puppet of more diabolical origins, to be used and disposed of according to their masters' whims.

    What no one knew was that it was all three at the same time, here to stay, here to act.

    And they would act to crush any and all dreams of Drakkari glory ascendant.

    That Gate

    "This… Cannot bode well…"

    Watcher Theronus concurred with the junior most of his twin Advisors, if only in the privacy of his own mind.

    The trio stood before the monstrous, gargantuan construct that was the Dark Portal, lifeless stone the size of a fort severed as the mere base of the structure. Statues larger than any monument he cared to name stared out into the distance with pulsing green eyes that burn in stone cloak shadows.

    At the heart of it all was a roiling, pulsing, thrumming mass of arcane energy swirling like the churning heart of creation.

    His other Advisor swallowed, "It has not been so active in near on twenty years, not since Draenor was…"

    "Destroyed," Theronus murmured before striking his staff against the dusty ground, humid air swirling around them he continued.

    "But it is not active, Draenor is long dead, and the portal cannot be opened from one side alone, not any longer. We shall increase our watches, strengthen the wards, and secure this place against any intrusion."

    Nethergarde Keep would not fail in its duty.
    NOTES:
    So, this chapter basically deals with a bunch of the other factions that couldn't really come into focus in previous chapters and are big enough players that they need some attention, especially with how much is changing. Also thanks again to the amazing @Ebanu8 for editing!

    The Priests in Zul'Gurub are weird lore wise, the Zandalari said they sent them but they are clearly Jungle Trolls. In this regard my best explanation is that the Gurubashi are kind of more subservient than other troll nations and as a result of that and proximity could send some of their best to study at Zandalar. Whatever the case, the corruption of Hakkar hadn't encompassed them all yet, but they needed a reliable outsider to deal with their corrupted contemporaries. Vosh'gajin's lore suggests she's supremely badass and I have no issue leaning into that. Also the surgery to learn things via magic brain stuff was inspired by Hunter X Hunter.

    Edwin's still around, I enjoy the prospect of anti monarchial revolutionaries too much to just toss them out and I like characters having agency over being mere stooges.

    Its been noted elsewhere that the Dark Horde & Dark Iron fusing, or one absorbing the other, or even just having a treaty would make some sense. So I decided it would happen here, both groups want Blackrock, but also have far more practical focus's in opposite directions and with the Alliance as it is, both are willing to play the long game.

    Nefarian's throne room being a wreck is based on canon. I always found it weird so I choose to say he surrounds it in illusions most cant see through but Rend's been around long enough and knew how to counter freaking Gul'Dan, so he's not being fooled by base trickery. Also from an RP I played Vosh'gajin is Rend & Voone's semi adopted daughter, XD

    The Dark Iron, from the masks to the speeches were heavily inspired by Travelogue's version. I really enjoyed their portrayal and felt they had a distinct vibe I wanted to bring across here, along with conveying that Ragnaros is something of a big deal.

    I mentioned before the Drakkari & Zandalari have a hat - hate relationship and that's definitely playing into things here. As is the Zandalari's near total isolation from the outside world, IE they're barely aware of what the Amani are even up to cos they haven't thought to ask.

    More Argus Wake and other foreshadowing, not much to say here but I hope it made sense ;)
     
  • Threadmarks
    • As the hour grows late, the shadows grow and new players shall do or die in their quest for power.
     
    Harvest Witches & Forest Lords
  • Informational
    • So, I have been musing on my subtle little background story between Krag'jin and Seraphine a bit, as it wasn't in the initial drafts but has steadily expanded with every revision an rewrite and as a result I had some world building to share. Mostly about Harvest Witches and their history, so let's begin.
    Harvest Witches & Forest Lords​

    The Harvest Witches are, for lack of better words, natural born druids in the same vein that a sorcerer can instinctively use the arcane they can tap into the primal powers of the natural world, they do not perceive Spirits but they can be influenced by them and the natural world surrounding them. In the most ancient days, they were fledging human kingdoms primary spell casters, oh there might have been a handful of Rune crafters or even the odd troll trained Priest, but the Harvest Witches were the only one's with any sense of collective identity and shared lore.

    This made them incredibly useful, they could help crops grow, hasten the return of trees from logging, heal and more; though abuse of their powers or the land could see Harvest Witches losing themselves to the primal impulses, hence the pejorative with being attached to their name. In these ancient days, Harvest Witches also allowed for some safer communication with trollish nations, usually through their Shamans who had respect for the Witches bond with nature and could serve as intermediaries for them when Spirits grew restless beyond a Harvest Witches ability to manage.

    This loose relationship was retained even after the fall of the Amani, humans might not have liked trolls on average but they could see the wonders they built and they power they once wielded. (A real world comparison might be Rome's respect for Egypt or the Greeks views on Persian Magi knowing secret lore). It was only later that humans went from merely warring with trolls to trying to exterminate any evidence they had ever held sway in the lands humans now ruled.

    This development did not coincide with the discovery of the Light, but concerns with 'Amani heresy' influencing human nations did play into the developing ideology. Which also served to bleed into how Harvest Witches were perceived; no longer needed for healing and with Arcane magic and new technologies proving so fruitful, the practical use of the Witches was far outweighed by the limitations they imposed on their powers and the dangers of misusing them. At first this simply led to a steady decline, but this would eventually develop into persecutions and even outright genocide leading many who could to flee to Kul'Tiras, but others could not or would not cross that divide.

    1. Kul'Tiras had a longstanding 'Druidic' tradition, thus their lands remained a beacon of hope for many Harvest Witches; however the arcane and at times brutal nature of their doctrines and the demands to follow their ancient contracts drove many Harvest Witches away. They did not want to merely practice their magic but thir culture after all.
    2. One might think Alteracs harsh environment would encourage them to be more tolerant, however their close ties with Dalaran and ridiculous mineral wealth meant the early monarchs feared not the loss of the Harvest Witches magic and having always found it hard to control disdained it, ensuring the land would be hostile to them for years to come.
    3. Dalaran, as a city of mages viewed the magic of Harvest Witches in the same vein as Shamanism, a primitive magic for people who did not understand the nature of reality that could be discarded once one discovered true magic. In the cities early days they warred with several covens who had long since made use of the Ley Lines, eventually gaining victory over them and expunging their orders for Hillsbrad.
    4. Stromgarde, while having been the home of Harvest Witches' for generations, with their trade ties to Ironforge blooming and ever a baleful enemy of trolls felt that the Harvest Witches ties, even if they were generations apart now, to trollish culture were an offence to their great nation. Thus, they made their existence illegal, an order which persisted to the modern day, with great rewards for turning them in to the lands ruler.
    5. Lordaeron, ever an aggressively holy nation would often see holy monarch leading witch hunts, purges and persecutions. The worst of these took place after the conquest of Eastweld, which still had many Harvest Witches and grew worse as the native population embraced the Light leading them to turn on their former kindred. At other times conversion or banishment were options, but the Tirisfal Harvest Witches have mostly been bled dry, with survivors fleeing into Wildhammer, Elven and Gilnean territory over generations.
    6. Stormwind, as a young nation had little traditional Harvest Witch culture as far as sights and ritual centers went. However many Harvest Witched did live among the immigrants in secret during the cities early days, hoping to find a new land where they could rebuild. This would fair poorly, the religious nation was very intolerant to the witches, even if it did use the opportunistically during the early days of settlement. This led to man fleeing to join roaming bands of nomads already in the South East, most among them would die to the Horde though some still survive to this day, while their kindred withered away in churches, denied the embrace of the earth to their dying breath.
    7. Gilneas has perhaps been the most consistently historically 'tolerant' of Harvest Witches though this would vary as it did in all nations.. However on a practical level, much of the rocky land that Gilneas was built on could be hard to farm, making Harvest Witches perpetually useful in a land so prone to bad harvests. What's more, on a purely political level, Gilneas was founded thanks to a schism in the Church of the Light; an order of priests feeling it was not their place to enter politics or advise kings and that such duties divided them from their holy task. Gilneas's ancient monarchs seeing the benefits to this ideology sponsored it and made her kingdom a safe place for these rebels, thus ousting traditional church authority to centralize control among the nobles and royal line exclusively. Still, it was rare for any to use them as boldly as Genn Greymane had done, but his decision to isolate half his territory from the rest of the world necessitated it.
    However, the final reason Gilnean territory was a popular haven for Harvest Witches was the Shadowglen faction, the trolls of Tal'Vass.

    I have shared their history before but suffice to say, they were once a province of the Amani Empire that became a small nation after its collapse, that would eventually predict its fall at the hands of the ever expanding human nations. Thus, they creative a multitude of great bunkers and fortified mountain keeps, dams and farms to sustain the core of their people and culture in secret even after humans took control of Silverpine. These trolls dislike humans on average, but having often avoided persistent hunting by them or border skirmishing, they viewed human nations more like one views a natural obstacle than a malevolent threat.

    This, along with the Harvest Witches never quite fading from mind ensured a quietly retained connection across generations, that has gone through a multitude of evolutions, especially as the Harvest Witches became more and more persecuted. This quiet partnership led to the creation of a unique blend of cultural practices, religious beliefs and magical teachings that go beyond the mere use of magic and into the realm of ancient contracts and binding others to the land, the forests and the divine. In some select rituals, figures will be chosen to serve as the servant of the woods or great spirits, or perhaps to carry a curse of a blessing with them and many others.

    In the case of the Shadowglen and the Harvest Witches there is a common trend of an arranged marriage between notable figures in their ranks, presided over by spiritual and divine forces that ensure however political the weddings nature, so too shall it bind their peoples. In some rare cases, these powers will themselves join the couple, blessing that which springs forth from their union to be something not quite divine, not quite a spirit, but far more than a mortal. Such children were often born in times of great import for their peoples, or on momentous occasions in the celestial calendar and while not well recorded by human nations, they have left their mark on history, as a trees roots do in the earth.

    A child of the Forest Lord and the Harvest Queen shall be mighty indeed, filled with glorious mission from conception, imbued with the glory of its parents peoples and a living reflection of the land themselves that is blessed by the divines. But what role shall they play in this new era is anyone's guess.
     
  • Informational
    • Naturally, a religion as organised, powerful and aggressive as the Holy Light won't tolerate contests by other religions, and of course the Dalaranians look down on shamanism, not realising it can be just as powerful as the arcane. Too bad the Drakkari can exploit this weakness, netting them great victories.
     
    Ebanu8 said:
    Naturally, a religion as organised, powerful and aggressive as the Holy Light won't tolerate contests by other religions, and of course the Dalaranians look down on shamanism, not realising it can be just as powerful as the arcane. Too bad the Drakkari can exploit this weakness, netting them great victories.
    Click to expand...
    Click to shrink...
    Yup, given its inspiration source faith, total dominance in so many cultures and later lore additions revealing a handful of different or older religions, plus how certain aggressive members of the faith act, it feels natural that the Light would have a bloody history regardless of its current trappings.

    Mhm, that take on Dalaran, IE them thinking nature magic is just a primitive version of 'real magic' was inspired by Travelogue where the MC is a mage who since travelling the word has concluded that stance was nonsense. But yeah, I think it makes sense for a place both so centered on the arcane and seemingly so incurious about other forms of magic to be dismissive.

    Yes indeedy, one thing that played into this story more and more as I wrote was that human nations haven't had to contend with powerful Shamans in large numbers in countless generations. Combine it with them erasing as much of trollish history as they can and the Shamans they do fight often having limited training, numbers and equipment, and it became easy to dismiss such magic, thus leaving them vulnerable to it. This, as with the above being based on everything from varied lore sources such as the RPGs (Them viewing such magic as base and barbaric). To inspired by the Travelogue and general observation (Humans destroying and denying evidence of troll accomplishments) and their general lack of use of it in lore despite the practical benefits.

    Thanks for the comment!
     
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