The Invasion of Rohk'aka Part 3
The Duel of Frost and Light Part 1
The first battles were done and now that the coastal enemies military might had been broken, came the much harder part.
Holding the enemy territory.
With this in mind, Malakk had called a meeting of his advisors at North-port, the central hub of their invasion and thus the easiest place to dictate from while their fleet was busy collecting reinforcements and patrolling the coasts.
The buildings were too small to comfortably host a proper meeting of his advisors, even smaller Drakarki couldn't fit through the doors, let alone Malakk.
Thus, they spoke outside town, in breezes that would have been deemed warm in Zul'Drak, as they looked upon the grassy planes, slick with recent rain, that expanded for kilometers on end.
A small human of advanced years, with a trim beard and blue tinged robes hovered alongside them looking nervous to say the least.
Tapping a piece of parchment, Malakk nodded to the man, "With the city and surrounding lands claimed we have been able to expand our reach to the outer farms, and if I read this right, another internment camp. Is that correct?"
The magistrate nodded quickly, "Y- Yes, Frost King Malakk," The title coming awkwardly from his mouth. "Besides taxes we have little to do with the places if I am being honest."
"That is good, Magistrate Bal, given the deplorable state we found things in," Malakk mused.
He glanced at Gal'Darah who saluted and bowed low, "Our acolytes find most of the orcs lethargic and ill, yet not sick. The younger one's seem resilient and a few elders have been stirred by our arrival but only so many."
Gal'Darah clicked his tongue, "We have some ideas as to what it might be, the Loa whisper of tainted blood to us but it is vague. As of now, we've no mind of how to fix it or much motive."
Malakk huffed, "We'll see, unseemly as the camp was, I am not impressed with what I heard of them."
"They are monster, your uh, grace; mindless monsters. If they had attacked us no one would be alive except to be tortured and devoured." The magistrate, stilled and paled.
"Calm, you and yours are not about to be eaten or sacrificed or any such things," Malakk said dismissively. He then arched his brow and added, "We thank you for your cooperation with this, magistrate. With your surrender making it official and records opened we were able to round up any remaining weapons."
There had been more than a few fights in that effort, and a smattering of frightful rebellions and would be assassinations, all quashed quickly. The sheer disparity in everything from size, to magic and arms ensured that. Suffice to say, it had been unseemly, but necessary work.
Malakk dismissed thought thoughts and returned to the present with a click of his tongue and said. "I assure you the curfew will end soon. But for now, tell me, how are the people adapting?"
Bal shrugged, "Um, skittish, your grace? Occupation tends to make one nervous," He chuckled without humor.
"Hmm, that may be a problem if they don't till their fields and the like, I don't want everyone starving under my watch."
He waved for a scribe, and a red-robed Wolvar stepped forward and bowed, "Raq'fah is honored to serve."
Malakk nodded and said, "Take them with you and gather an inventory so we can see how best to deal with this matter while the townsfolk grow 'accustomed' to the situation."
Bal bowed hastily, "Of course, at ah, once." Before awkwardly gesturing for the young scribe to follow him back into the city.
"With that done, is there anything else I should be made aware of before we continue?"
Moorabi patted his daggers from his cushion on the ground and whistled, "The streets are still a mess from all the fighting, and with everyone staying home the whole place is starting to look and smell a wreck. The running water is also…" He shrugged, "I don't like it.
Groaning he waved, "Let us put how to deal with that away for now and just have some
Water Binders clean the streets twice a day. Moving on."
Miorabi chuckled, "What no sauna?"
Malakk snorted, "In this heat?"
That was when the Amani War Priest, Hala-Zhi, spoke up with a feline line hiss of amusement. "If you think this is warm, you poor Drakkari shall melt in the summer-time."
"Thus we invade in the winter, a wise decision on his majesties part," Gal'Darah intoned."
Malakk looked passed his Grand Prophet and to the bulky sky rider chieftain, saying, "Heb'jin, I was impressed with your performance. The Agamand Hills fell easily, with no losses on your end."
The troll bowed but a frown marred his features, "Would that I could boast about this, but there was little challenge. Soldiers did not know we have aerial forces and so charged into danger with no defense and scattered easily."
He traced along the map. "Once we reached the farmlands above, all that opposed us were farmers with no training, goaded into fighting by the heads of their great families." He slapped a fist against his palm "the moment we blew out their 'nobles', most surrendered or fled."
"Whatever the case you performed well," Malakk said, clapping him on the shoulder. "For now, focus on patrols and message running, but keep a reserve force ready for deployment in case of a surprise attack."
The Chieftain saluted, "As you command, Frost King Malakk!"
Nodding, he turned to the rest of his advisors and waved a scroll, "The Juj'tulak tell me that even with the local lumber the project may not be finished in time to siege the capital. In this we will need to make use of cannons, spell and larger beasts."
His gaze fell upon Gal'Darah and the mounted Legionary Chieftains.
The Grand Prophet flung himself to the ground, tusks touching the dirt, "Frost King Malakk, I can offer no excuse for the loss of half my legion in that battle, I-"
"This was not our fault!" A Chieftain cut in, one Krol'Ton, "We were not told of how dangerous these knights were!"
Gal'Darah hissed, "Do not blame the Great Mother and Amani for our failures."
Hala-Zhi hissed, while Arctikus tapped the table, harshly, and spoke without prompting. "We told you of this well and how to overcome them! Use Shaman and spirit callers to turn their mounts against them!"
Krol'Ton retorted, "That only would work for ambushes," Then he went very, very quiet.
Gal'Darah looked to the Frostmane who's expression could be described as 'pinched' or perhaps, 'painfully furious' while Hala-Zhi's claws pressed into their arms. The Grand Prophet finally spoke, "That advice was not merely for unsuspecting riders?"
Malakk wanted to grab someone and shake them, or maybe scream into a large, cavernous hall as the Great Mother answered.
"Of course not. My tribe too great advantage of this weakness whenever we could," she practically hissed.
Hala-Zhi, let out a low rasping noise and spoke through the leather lynx helm, clearly and sharply. "Only the Wildhammer have the wit or awareness of spirits to ward against a true master of the elemental arts."
Hala'Zhi rolled their shoulders, leather lynx-head helmet moving as if a part of them. "The elves accursed ward stones can interfere as well, they do not share their secrets lightly."
Krol'Ton looked like he wished the ground would swallow him up and Gal'Darah ducked his head, "I offer no excuse, we presumed too much and-
"Enough," Malakk snapped, drawing the Grand Prophet to his feet with his gaze alone. "Were this a normal and familiar battle I would have stripped you of command and your rank for such a blunder."
"However," he stressed at the trolls stricken appearances. "It is clear many missed this crucial detail. What is more, rhino's and mammoth may be stronger than their horses, but the Alliance cavalry's speed and maneuverability is greater than expected."
He clapped his hand against the map table with a resounding thud. "I want you all to go over everything we know and experienced in this battle with divine precision and adjust our strategies accordingly."
Seeing Gal'Darah waiting for the other foot to drop he said, "That is all. Now we move on to preparing for their inevitable counterattack, I'll not rush in to assaulting their capital until the numbers are shored up so we must be ready to hold out for a time."
Hala'Zhi tapped the table, "In this I think trenches may aid you, so the Alliance armies cannot march in a lockstep legion."
Arctikus nodded, adding, "Their armies are disciplined, but less adaptive than some; this will also disrupt their mounts, but less so ours."
Moorabi clicked his tongue, "I think we can use mammoth in place of siege weapons and use the rhino for line breaking, and I have some Taunka, who are game to unleash some bound spirits. Storm support perhaps?"
Malakk mused on their words and gestured grandly across the planes, "Should we not also lay cannons and spear launchers behind trenches?"
Several murmurs of assent filled the air, though Slad'Ran tapped the table and was rewarded with a motion to speak.
"We may wish to spread them out, divide and conquer, storms, linebreakers, cannons and more can overwhelm the enemy force."
"You all speak wisely," Malakk offered, a palm against his chest he added. "I shall be overseeing our defenses here with Hala-Zhi and a council of chiefs. Unless otherwise ordered..."
His gaze flickered across each advisor intern, "Gal'Darah, you and Slad'Ran will see to the defenses of the Monastery. Great Mother Arctikus, I would have you join Heb'jin and take your Frostmane contingent to oversee the Agamand Hills as you both see fit, and use the land to your advantage."
His gaze fell upon each of his followers, his words heavy, "Array your soldiers to best guard their lives, lay traps and spells, conjure the spirits who have gone so long unheeded, but above all, be ready."
"The Alliance will be marching upon us soon enough."
A chill wind wafted across the vast planes of Tirisfal Glades and Uther found himself tuning out the sound of his resting army behind to just watch the sunset, hands clasped behind his back.
In the distance he knew, just out of his site was where a battle would soon take place; lovely fields would be stricken with blood as lives were cut short and he was to ensure that his side did more of the killing.
'
War is not evil when undertaken for a just cause, this is a mere execution of duty that more bloodshed may be spared,' He reminded himself, as he did before any and every battle.
Uther was drawn from his musing at the sound of a familiar set of footsteps, accompanied by a splash of golden hair and shining blue eyes,
Mehlar Dawnblade, his first apprentice and now fellow a Paladin.
Mehlar came to a stop at his side, long eyebrows twitching as he surveyed the vista and murmured, "This is a good place for it, Brightwater Lake at our side and vast planes before us. I am certain you will lead us to victory."
Uther offered a faint smile, "Your confidence warms my heart brother, and perhaps I will, but I would rather not have to fight at all."
The elven man frowned, "I take it that is why you sent those knights ahead? I must warn you; trolls do not see us as deserving of etiquette, this may fair no better than honored Lothar's efforts with the Orcs."
"Nevertheless, we must try. I would have gone myself," he began.
"But we would have piled atop you to hold you back," Mehlar smirked.
"Sadly so."
They hung in quiet, contemplative silence for a time, before Mehlar spoke up again, his tone stilted, "Will you not be asking my thoughts on how these trolls circumnavigated Quel'Thalas to strike Lordaeron by surprise?"
Uther shrugged, "I would no more ask you for knowledge you could not possess than I would ask Balor the Bright of the goings on in Kul'Tiras."
Mehlar chuckled, "You would be the first."
"Have there been problems in the ranks?" His tone turned sharp as he cast a glance back at his troops.
Mehlar waved him off, "Nothing too serious, just irksome, though I confess my own confusion as to how this could have happened. My people have rarely been inclined towards the sea in great numbers, but the fleet we have is top of the line and should have noticed something."
A grimace flashed on his handsome features, "I fear they may have been maliciously negligent, but to say so would be… Impolitic, if word of it returned home."
Uther hummed, "I do not envy your position my friend, though perhaps there was no malice and these trolls are simply skillful sailors?"
Mehlar failed to restrain a scoff, "I would doubt it, though I take it you have some concerns and that is why you left the prince at the palace?"
Uther nodded, "Even if this is not a great or terrible battle, I would not want Arthas to experience bloodshed so early into his life as a Paladin."
"I suppose, though I am unsure we should fear so much, no trolls possess the numbers or skills to match the might of the Alliance," the elf said dispassionately, as if by wrote.
"Perhaps, though I would remind you we do not even have the full army of Lordaeron at our back; and while the volunteers from Brill and Dalaran are brave and welcome."
"They are still far from the armies of the Second War," Mehlar finished for him. "I know, but even still, I cannot imagine this to be a long battle."
"Who is to say it is but one battle and not the beginnings of a war?" Uther asked, gesturing to the mountains in the distance. "They have claimed two mountainous regions, one incredibly difficult to march an army into when it is prepared for a siege and the other rife with farms and their people."
He gestured towards the planes, "They hold the coast as well and have apparently secured an internment camp or two, as well as other settlements. Were they fighting like raiders or the Horde they would have pillaged the land and moved on, allowing us to fall upon them from many directions."
Uther folded his arms, "Here though, they are ready and waiting for us. We cannot divide our army into three. Seventy thousand brave and true we may have, but divide that across three fronts, with divided commanders, multiple supply chains and more…"
He shook his head, "Whoever is leading these trolls knows warfare and they are ready to dig in their heels and make us bleed for every step."
"I see, that is concerning," Mehlar offered, still not sounding entirely convinced, "I suppose I have much to learn in the ways of large-scale warfare."
"Hopefully, this will be your last chance, still though…" He mused, hand running across his beard, "Still, I feel something is strange. If smart enough to force us to either divide our forces or face rear line raids, surely they would know we could try and starve them out."
"Maybe that is why the reports hinted they did not slaughter and burn the city, they want hostages perhaps, to lure us in?" Mehlar suggested.
"Perhaps, the reports from the escapees have been… Confusing at best."
Armor that repelled the Light, ships that loomed over juggernauts, strange and varied armor and magics in vast numbers not normally seen among the scattered forest tribes who were meant to be the most numerous of the species.
"Look there, brother, some good news at least!" Mehlar cheered.
Uther squinted into the distance as two shadows appeared, and he smiled in relief at the sight of his knights racing into view, not a wound upon them!
'Thank the Light!' He thought, even as he kept his expression carefully restrained, if pleased, as he and Mehlar moved out to meet with the steel adorned riders, their presence driving the duo to a halt.
"Hail, General, we come bearing news from North Port."
"What is the state of the people?" He asked before anything else.
The two knights glanced to one another and then faced him properly again as they seemed to mull over the words.
Finally, the larger of the two spoke, "Holding well as far as we could see, no signs of slave labor or mutilated sacrifices. There is a curfew in effect and many felled in battle, but the city and her people seem otherwise untouched."
"According to the trolls' leaders and the magistrate," The smaller piped in sounding irritated at the mere mention of both, "The dead soldiers had their ashes returned to their families."
Mehlar frowned, tugging at one of his eyebrows, "This is rather uncharacteristic, I would go as far to say damn near fanciful."
"I thought the same lord Paladin, but our eyes do not lie," answered the smaller one.
The larger of the two pulled out a scroll and offered it to Uther. "Their leader, one calling himself Frost King Malakk has agreed to meet with you at the heart of the fields between our camps and claimed territories. Escorts are permitted but only a handful, watchers may be present but at a distance."
Unfurling the scroll and seeing much the same outlined in a rather strange but easily legible Lordonean.
"Do you intend to go, brother?" Mehlar asked.
"Honor demands no less my friends, but fear not, I will prepare for an ambush, on the chance that they have no honor," he said, passing the scroll to his knights and motioning them back to camp.
"That would be wisest," Mehlar murmured at his side as they trekked back to the array of tents and sparking steel that was the war camp.
'
Wise, but hopefully unnecessary,' he thought, hoping against hope they could end this tomorrow with words and not with bloodshed.
But he would just have to see what the morning brought.
Malakk wanted to be on hand to mediate and organize if need be and thus he had taken to a royal yurt outside North Port. His was one among the many tents as Drakkari spread across the glades, using crystals and magic for light in place of fire.
He was not alone however, even inside the round, angled assembly of steam bent wood and fine wool.
Seated on the opposite side of the yurt to himself, the sole central post of dark metal separating them was Moorabi.
The lean troll sat upon a woven pillow of elegant purple and whites, sharpening his daggers. He was ignoring the plate of food and drink at the center and Malakk himself as he Frost King feigned flicking through some assorted reports.
Sighing he filed his work away in a shelf and said, "Speak your mind old friend. You are glaring a hole in my head and I do not now whether you wish to fight me or have me take you to bed." It was an weak jest for many reasons.
Moorabi snorted, "Are we still friends, my king?"
Malakk sighed, "You do not want me to meet with the Paladin." Malakk dropped down onto his large, round bed, the blue linen wrinkling beneath his weigh.
Moorabi's retort was cold and quick, "They killed Malaka'raz, you promised us an honor-less war, you swore to bring him justice." Moorabi's hands twitched and he dropped his glowing daggers, "Now we fight alongside Nerubians and speak with the humans generals?"
Malakk moved to return his friends daggers, but before he could finish reaching for them, Moorabi snatched them up an holstered them, unwilling to meet his gaze.
Rocking back on his feet, Malakk dropped down to the carpeted floor and looked to the pale blue ceiling.
"I did swear vengeance, I swore a blood oath, Moorabi; those responsible will die. It is not a matter of debate. It will happen."
Moorabi clicked his tongue, "Then why debate with the paladin, when it only puts you at risk?"
"Because I also promised my people peace and prosperity when I took the crown," Malakk said firmly. "I owe it to them, to the children we were to conduct myself with honor and seek a way out of the bloodshed, while still doing my duties."
Moorabi sighed and hung his head, "Another reason to tolerate the spiders," He scratched at his ribs, like something was skittering along his skin.
"We'd kill the one who hurt you a thousand more times, if I thought it would bring you peace, Moorabi."
Moorabi snorted, "You're not that cold. It is why I like you, even if it irks me at times." He ran a hand through white locks and stretched. "I will be accompanying you tomorrow, to be sure there is no sneaky business."
Malakk grinned, "I would have it no other way, Moorabi."
Neither could truly say what they had expected.
A cunningly cloaked party of murderous ambushers?
A hulking monster of a warlord bedecked in bones?
When in fact the truth felt both more mundane and stranger for it.
Uther had little idea what to expect of these Drakkari - Ice Trolls, but a towering, muscular warrior had been prepared for. What wasn't, was the ornately layered robe in rich royal blues, with golden ornamentation and white trim. The troll was waiting patiently, hands clasped behind its back, strange, angular face hinting at a sort of pensive intrigue.
Malakk had little experience with humans, for all his travels and recent fighting, he did not have a true image of his foe in mind. But if asked, he would say the Paladin before him might just be perfect, for all that he did not resemble the Frostmane's brutal tales of faceless tin soldiers. A strong frame, unbowed by age or weakness, with brown locks fading to white and a stern expression that belied the hope they must hold in their heart.
The leaders stood, across from one another on the grassy planes, each bedecked in martial finery of their nations. The wind was weaving through the grass as clouds swirled overhead.
Their twin escorts stepped away as the pair finally came face to face.
Uther had fought many foes, across many fields of battle, he was not intimidated by size alone. But it was hard to deny, few he had faced managed to convey their greater frame than the troll before him, Ogres were clumsy and oafish, while forest trolls were too skittish and dragons too wild or too ponderous. But the Drakkari's stern manner and obvious discipline, gave the impression of looming statues.
Malakk knew size wasn't everything, for all that his own large frame and tusks helped give him mystic. Still, often-times it was easy to forget that fact, when conversing with traders and farmers. Uther however was a stark reminder all on his own. He bore militant manner of a man who had seen war like few others and passed through the crucible unbent and unbroken. When he spoke, his voice conveyed no hint of nerves other than steel.
"I am heartened you agreed to meet with me, Frost King Malakk, and though I am saddened it took bloodshed to bring us together, it is my hope we can end the killing here."
Malakk's smile was a small, flickering thing, but it was there as he answered.
"It is not by ambition or greed I come to your shores, noble Paladin, but grim necessity. Still, a part of me does hope something can come from this meeting."
Uther arched his brow and said, "I am afraid you will have to tell me your motives, for I can think of no grievance between our people's."
Malakk's orange eyes blazed for but a moment before he answered. "Some years ago, your Alliance drove my cousins and kin, the Frostmane from their home in the Southern Mountains. They fled North, seeking aid and relief."
Uther's brow was arched, "If I may, that land has been Ironforge sovereignty for centuries."
"And it was of the Frostmane nation for millennia before that," Malakk countered, before pressing on. "Still, I had hope we could reach an understanding. But when I sent to you my friend, my Speaker and voice, Malaka'Raz. He was imprisoned, he was 'interrogated and killed in a cage."
Malakk's voice did not rise, he did not snarl, but the sibilant, angry hiss escaping his lips could have sliced through stone.
Uther's mind was not frantic, he was too ordered for such a thing, faint memories of minutia coming to the forefront as if from the appendix of a book.
"I remember this," He murmured, hand stroking along his beard.
"But you had no hand in it," Malakk said bluntly. "You would not have been the type willing to come before me honorably if you had overseen such a vile act."
Uther's brow knitted together, "Circumstances beyond my lieges control and past experience with your 'cousins' gave little time for consideration."
Malakk let out a low huff, "Excuses, a king is king or he is not and in either case, one who has committed crimes must be made to answer for them. As Frost King, it is my duty to see justice done and the scale between us balanced."
A howling wind passed between them, their weapons remained sheathed and their words calm.
Yet it seemed both could sense what was coming.
"I can only apologize for the fate of your speaker, this Malaka'raz," Uther said sternly but not unkindly. "What was done to him was wrong, but have you not more than avenged him now with this first wave of attacks?"
The troll warlord shook his head, "The people we fought had no part in Malaka'raz's death, so far as I know, they were fought because they are the warriors of your king and will bar our way to him. Those who do not and cannot fight fight were not harmed."
"That does not answer my question," Uther pressed.
The troll's ears twitched, dark metal ear rings glinting as he slowly tilted his head, as if confused, "I come here to de-fang a wicked foe. But most of all I am seeking justice from those who ordered the deed and carried it out. Anyone else is immaterial to me and if they did not pose a danger to my nation would be left be."
"Yet you occupy the coastal townships, a church and farmsteads," Uther said, "If you speak the truth, why not march upon the capital?"
"Because I am not fool enough to lead those who follow me into death," The troll said, motioning towards him. "There is a fine line between honor and rank foolishness, one I doubt you do not know. Given you agreed to speak with me but have prepared yourself in case of an ambush."
A rumble ran through his chest, even as Uther found himself nodding, "Those who had no part in your speaker's death will still die, as will those who cannot fight, such is the nature of war. But it does not have to be this way."
"Only a life can repay a life and land repay stolen land," The troll said rhythmically. "Such is the way of justice, it is a scale to balance what has been broken to repay a debt. If something was stolen it must be returned and then some. If a life was taken and cannot be restored, why should the killer live gaily and the fallens loved one's languish in misery with no respite?"
"There is a saying in our lands," Uther offered, hoping he was understanding this leader's mind as he did his own lieges.
"And that is?" the troll asked with a light click of his tongue.
"Vengeance, begets, vengeance," Uther said simply, patting the holy book that hung from his hip. "If we all sought revenge for every wrongdoing, then the vengeance itself would need to be avenged in time."
"Wise words," the troll said, nodding his head and looking upon Uther with a pleased expression that no longer struck him as alien as it should perhaps have.
"And yet," they continued, "I do not feel them for us in this moment here. You speak of vengeance, of hot-blooded passion rooted in pain and catharsis. I speak of justice, something meditated and deliberated, extolled so as to put an end to any sordid affair for good."
"So, to avenge one, many more must die?" Uther coaxed, seeing a glint in the trolls' eyes.
"I will make you an offer, Uther Lightbringer," The troll said suddenly, hands open, arms wide, totally exposed. "Send to me your king and the executioner who slew my speaker; I shall duel them both at once, openly and fairly. I shall likely win, and that will be the end of it. No one else in this land need risk death."
Uther shook his head, "I cannot do that to my liege, but I can fight for my king, as I fight in his name and that of his kingdom."
The troll shook his head, looking nearly forlorn, "You committed no crime, you should not have to bear the burden of my justice." Malakk grinned, "Besides, I like you, warrior, I'd rather not see you fall."
"Maybe so, but I would gladly do so if it would spare others from being lost in the course of a greater conflict."
The trolls gaze looked over the knight and mage who Uther had, had accompany him and shook his head. "All your soldiers' fight for your king and in his name; even were I to defeat you they would not surrender. He," The troll stressed, "Would not surrender."
A frown marred Uther's face as he accepted that truth, "You are not wrong, even were we to duel to decide the fate of this battle, I do not think it could stop a war."
"Would that it could," The troll said, his voice strained.
They lingered in silence for a time, before the Frost King spoke again. "It is as we feared, Uther, even if we were to settle this between us, or maybe even I against your king, war is inevitable."
"I am afraid that is how it will have to be if you will not simply leave us in peace," Uther said simply, chest tight, none of this sat right with him.
Malakk chuckled, words low and akin to a sigh, "It is strange is it not?"
Uther met his gaze, hoping he would continue.
"I come here, to this place, to seek justice for my Speaker, whom I loved dearly as a boon companion. Yet he was still one troll and now so many more will die to avenge him. So many of yours who never even knew he died and played no part in his execution will fall as well."
He clutched at the air, "I cannot let an injustice go unanswered, nor neglect the cries of my people be it for his death or those who died fleeing the only home they had ever known. Yet in doing my duty, I will lead more of them into death and pain than those who have fallen.... Or watch all I have built slip through my fingers as a result of my unwillingness to act."
Uther bowed his head, "Such is the nature of leadership I believe; to be granted power and use it well, one is intern bound to those who follow them and the greater tides surrounding them."
"It is a sad thing for a leader, when they care" The Frost King murmured.
"It is agony," Uther answered, hand over his holy book.
"Yet… It is better that we suffer it, better to suffer for one's love than to have never cared at all, better for those who follow us."
"Would that no one have to suffer at all, but that is not the world we live in," Uther said quietly. "Is there no way you can be convinced to leave?" He asked, one last time.
"Were the situations reversed would your king, your people allow such an act to go-unavenged?" Was the answer, the one he knew he would get, but he had to ask.
Uther could only sigh, "Then there is no other choice but to let our armies decide this, regardless of what we may wish."
"Bound by duty and rank we may be, but I promise this to you, Uther Lightbringer. You will have an honorable bout. I swear it."
Malak slowly drew his axe and Uther his hammer; in a single instant they let ice and light forged steel touch, a brief bridge across the divide between their sides before pulling away.
"And you shall have my promise to take this no farther than our own lands, Frost King Malakk."
With all that could be said, spoken, they turned and marched away.
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NOTES:
So, quick personal aside but a lot is going on in my life right now and a lot of it sucks, and also the internet is struggling so yeah, sorry about that but needed to explain why if I suddenly drop out for a little while.
As to the chapter itself, I had a lot to accomplish here and ended up expanding it massively from what it originally was with Hala-Zhi and especially the Uther & Malakk meet up, plus showing the following night, so I hope that all worked. Aslo thanks to those who encouraged me to work in the allies of the Drakkari more, I hope it is working.
One thing I want to sell is that Malakk is definitely smart and knows warfare but is also not like, grand admiral super genius, he has advisors for a reason, many more experienced generals than he, but even they can get tripped up by presumption. Cos yeah, that Shaman and horse thing not baseless.
I pulled it from Lord of the Clans and am choosing to keep it because so much of Thrall's success was reliant on the Alliance struggling with Shamanistic magic. The way I have this make sense in universe is that most human nations and to a lesser extent Ironforge, have not had to deal with armies of highly trained shamans in generation. Oh the odd strong one will pop up in a Gnoll pack, and some of the medium sized forest tribes aren't nothing.
But in the broad strokes, these groups have not the time or resources to train a fully fledged war shaman like the Drakkari do, the Amani, Jintha'Alor and Gurubashi might but they rarely engage with humans. As a result, a moderate mage will usually beat a moderate Shaman and never encounter anything stronger, thus leading to this magic to be largely dismissed as for "Primitive creatures who cannot handle arcane magic." This is further helped by the Wildhammer's isolationist policy.
