New Dominion (Warcraft)

The Crushridge ogre clan were formed from the remnants of the Stonemaul following their enslavement and use as shock-troops. The majority of surviving ogres headed off to find a new home in Kalimdor, while those remaining moved south to occupy the ruins of the fallen Alterac kingdom.
It's detailed at the top of the linked wowpedia page.
Crushridge

Rexxar is the most famous and last of the 'Mok'Nathal', which were an entire clan of half-ogres, they have always existed within any force of mixed orcs and ogres. Rare but present, as there were multiple mok'nathal (uncapitalized refers to the hybrid and not the clan) in the new horde by the time of Warcraft 3.
Huh, I didn't know they had ties to the Stonemaul, given Mug'thol is implied to have connections with the Boulderfist clan via Or'Kalar... Well that raises interesting questions.

Sorry for being unclear, I meant the last Mok'Nathal on Azeroth, my bad XD
 
Huh, I didn't know they had ties to the Stonemaul, given Mug'thol is implied to have connections with the Boulderfist clan via Or'Kalar... Well that raises interesting questions.

Sorry for being unclear, I meant the last Mok'Nathal on Azeroth, my bad XD
The Boulderfist are an entirely seperate clan, with Or'kalar simply under the seeming command of Mug'thol, while the Crushridge Clan are a descendant clan of the Stonemaul. The Boulderfist have claim to Arathi while the Stonemaul held chunks of Lordorean, with the Crushridge spawning in Alterac following Lordorean becoming a hellzone of undeath and plagues. XD
 
The Boulderfist are an entirely seperate clan, with Or'kalar simply under the seeming command of Mug'thol, while the Crushridge Clan are a descendant clan of the Stonemaul. The Boulderfist have claim to Arathi while the Stonemaul held chunks of Lordorean, with the Crushridge spawning in Alterac following Lordorean becoming a hellzone of undeath and plagues. XD
That's true, I'm mostly wandering if Mug'Thol was trying to strike up an alliance with the Boulderfirst via Or'kalar, or if they had previously established dealing established sometime, though given Mug'thol was mind controlled for awhile that is unlikely.
 
That's true, I'm mostly wandering if Mug'Thol was trying to strike up an alliance with the Boulderfirst via Or'kalar, or if they had previously established dealing established sometime, though given Mug'thol was mind controlled for awhile that is unlikely.
Given that the Crushridge are in an ongoing war with the Syndicate in Alterac, they might simply be in a military alliance with Or'kalar to ensure that they don't have to worry about the Boulderfist getting handsy from their north.
 
Given that the Crushridge are in an ongoing war with the Syndicate in Alterac, they might simply be in a military alliance with Or'kalar to ensure that they don't have to worry about the Boulderfist getting handsy from their north.
Definitely possible, whatever the case the fact these relatively distant ogre clans implicitly communicate is a fun concept to play with to be sure.
 
So recent discourse and chapter editing has led me to consider an interlude that would be a series of snapshots of characters and events that aren't central to the story but will either become more important over time or will help establish other major story factories.

Among them would likely include:
At least one interned Orc.
Whitemane & Slad'Ran talking.
Maybe show some ogres or the Shadowglen taking advantages of the chaos.

Thoughts?
 
I definitely like the ideas. A sort of look into how others are looking at recent events, given how much has changed. If I may suggest, would it be possible to get a Sylvanas or Quel'thalas viewpoint? Trolls have long been a big foe and threat to them, and the driving force for them teaching humans how to do magic, so the idea of a massive Troll Nation invading a nearby kingdom should definitely be sending shockwaves through their political and military class.
 
I definitely like the ideas. A sort of look into how others are looking at recent events, given how much has changed. If I may suggest, would it be possible to get a Sylvanas or Quel'thalas viewpoint? Trolls have long been a big foe and threat to them, and the driving force for them teaching humans how to do magic, so the idea of a massive Troll Nation invading a nearby kingdom should definitely be sending shockwaves through their political and military class.
Fantastic, thanks! Good breakdown on what I am going for here, the snapshots framing device also helps me not have to drag things out 'too' long for any specific scene.

Oooh that is an interesting idea, on one hand info travel isn't as fast here as later WOW, but by this point in time I think they'd have to know. I think maybe Sylvanas performing some kind on inspection at Sunsail Anchorage and demanding to know how they missed this might be a good start?
 
Oooh that is an interesting idea, on one hand info travel isn't as fast here as later WOW, but by this point in time I think they'd have to know. I think maybe Sylvanas performing some kind on inspection at Sunsail Anchorage and demanding to know how they missed this might be a good start?

The sylvanas thing at Sunsail certainly sounds like a good start!
I know messages don't travel exactly as fast as in WoW, but this is still an era of fast couriers on enchantment boosted horses, griffon-mounted messengers, and even magical mail relayed through Dalaran. Plus Gnomes and their new flying machines.
 
Oooh that is an interesting idea, on one hand info travel isn't as fast here as later WOW, but by this point in time I think they'd have to know. I think maybe Sylvanas performing some kind on inspection at Sunsail Anchorage and demanding to know how they missed this might be a good start?
I imagine info travel, at least in this period, is entirely dependent on how important the info is and how much you are willing to pay. I can definitely imagine that a massive Troll army launching a stealth invasion of the coastline of the kingdom right next door to you would be the sort of thing that results in panic.

I think my favorite Sylvanas pre-Banshee presentation was from a WC3 AU where Arthas takes his time and builds his forces before hitting Quel'thalas, where she is just completely done with the idiots back in the city who have no idea how bad things actually are, and struggling to put up a resistance. I can imagine a whole story post of her trying to convince people to pay attention to this invasion, while being met by handwaves of "Well, of course those humans are getting invaded, those weaklings", and her just recruiting whoever she can get to shadow the Trolls in case of an attack.
 
I can imagine a whole story post of her trying to convince people to pay attention to this invasion, while being met by handwaves of "Well, of course those humans are getting invaded, those weaklings"

"Sir, the humans are being CRUSHED!"

Snooty elf scoffing.
"Yes yes, the trolls are quite a heavy bunch aren't they... I suppose it's just the Amani getting ornery again.
Hfnah~, Hfnah~, Hfnah~."
 
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I imagine info travel, at least in this period, is entirely dependent on how important the info is and how much you are willing to pay. I can definitely imagine that a massive Troll army launching a stealth invasion of the coastline of the kingdom right next door to you would be the sort of thing that results in panic.

I think my favorite Sylvanas pre-Banshee presentation was from a WC3 AU where Arthas takes his time and builds his forces before hitting Quel'thalas, where she is just completely done with the idiots back in the city who have no idea how bad things actually are, and struggling to put up a resistance. I can imagine a whole story post of her trying to convince people to pay attention to this invasion, while being met by handwaves of "Well, of course those humans are getting invaded, those weaklings", and her just recruiting whoever she can get to shadow the Trolls in case of an attack.
Mhm that scans pretty very well, in that context I imagine the various leaders know the gist of what's going down rather quickly, but then getting that info to their various nobles, generals and retainers takes a bit more time and then them responding back and then finally raising a host. Its definitely a case of 'super fast in some cases' and yet can still lead to drawn out dealings.

Yeah that scans pretty well, she often came off as one of the token sensible people in their government, with limited ability to effect change.

"Sir, the humans are being CRUSHED!"

Snooty elf scoffing.
"Yes yes, the trolls are quite a heavy bunch aren't they... I suppose it's just the Amani getting ornery again.
Hfnah~, Hfnah~, Hfnah~."
XD
 
Interlude: Moments in War
Interlude: Moments in War
Burx hadn't had an easy life.

Plucked from obscurity in the camps and kept by the Agamand as something between a guard dog and be-loathed pet.

His name had been 'berk', an insult he found out from his brief passing's between the house and the labor camp where a kindly old orc whispered to him the secrets of their tongue.

'Berk is an insult to them yes, but it sounds like Burx, no? To us that is one who is sturdy, doesn't wail or whine when danger comes, someone with a stiff jaw. It fits you well, young one.'

Since then, he had taken to the name, even if only in his own mind. Any efforts to assert himself in the home left him at best, battered or covered in waste and worst, left outside in the rain and cold, as well as wounded.

A stiff jaw wouldn't help him if he died, but some days he had thought to welcome it.

Death had always seemed restful, but fate had never been so kind.

Until the day the Drakkari arrived.

They came with great ceremony, with songs and shrieks that echoed across the mountains, in ships that loomed as large as those of the Horde of old!

The humans tried to fight, but all their shining steel and black bullets could do was amuse the giants who rained down fire and fighters from the sky.

Burx had seen the militia men burnt and broken with contemptuous ease and could smell his owners house burning.

When Devlin tried to flee with him, intent on using Burx like a guard dog, he did not wait. He grabbed the boys head and snapped his neck. Then, took up the fool's mace and freed himself.

What followed was done almost in a daze, maybe it was a vision from the ancestors, maybe he was just drunk on the fumes of alchemical flames.

He wandered outside, bloodied and deaf to the quieting fighting and roaring flames. He ignored the captured humans and the trolls investigating the camps.

He found the first Troll he could, barely aware of their startled expression as he tugged on the metal collar around his neck.

It was pathetically feeble, but he did not care, and neither it seemed did the troll, as a sort of disgusted horror spread across those sharp features and was directed at the fearful humans.

The next thing Burx knew the troll was grasping the heavy black metal and there was a strange squealing, screaming sound followed by a thrum as they ripped his collar off.

Burx had never felt so light, and he had never stood so tall as when he collapsed against the troll sobbing and howling, because for the first time in his life.

He was free.


Sylvanas_Windrunner remained austere within the elegant carriage taking her through Eversong.

"We are speaking not of savage orcs, but trolls, do you think they would leave us be?"

"That is not even a question, these are not Forest Tribes so we needn't be concerned."

"A troll is a troll, shall we repeat the mistakes of the Second War a second time?"

"Mind your tone and recall that we all agreed to withdraw from that farcical Alliance."

"Some under justified protest, I would note!"

"If we are to sally forth south and render aid, we should ensure we are duly compensated. The Eye of Dalaran, or perhaps the Book of Medivh?"

"We have barely begun to recover from the Second War, we cannot afford such an act, not with the Amani skulking at our border."

"Another shameful failure that should be remedied."

"A fine thing for your family to speak of failure-"

Even now she resisted the urge to massage her forehead at the memory of that disastrous council meeting. "I swear to the sun, I must be losing my mind for I am certain history is repeating itself before my eyes," She muttered to the two men across from her, each reclining against the plush gold cushions.

Lor'themar_Theron hummed, "Is there not a Human saying to that effect about repeating a failed course of action and yet expecting a different result?"

Sylvanas snorted, "What would you have me do, slaughter the fools among them?"

Halduron_Brightwing chuckled, "It would make our lives easier, no?"

"Do not tempt me, I already want to bludgeon the fool that let these beasts pass, speaking of whom," She cast her gaze upwards at the elegant, domed structures of Sunsail Anchorage.

Pristine marble and blue sapphire roof's resting comfortably on cobblestone streets of elegant and intricate star-like patterns.

In the distance and along the coast she was surprised to see as several frigates clearly taken out of storage and being prepared for use.

The journey to the lords house was surprisingly swift as they pulled up outside the central hub of the anchorage and were politely welcomed outside the oval structure. Though Sylvanas was disappointed to be greeted by Lord_Saltheril the younger.

The preening redhead bowed graciously, "Truly we are privileged to receive you, honored Windrunner and your noble retainers of course. The house of the Sailing Sun shall do all we can to fulfill your every need for so long as you are our honored guests."

Biting back her first question, Sylvanas pulled back her blue hood and nodded to the smaller elf, "I am honored to be received with such grace and dignity. Never let an ill word be spoken of your manner young lord, for we are humbled by your grace and by your beautiful home."

Preening shyly, the youth ducked his head, "The house of Sunsail thanks our beloved Ranger General and if it pleases you, my elder brother shall return… Now it seems."

Sylvanas had already heard the heavy foot falls approaching as the much larger brother strode into view and dismissed his guards with a wave.

Broad shouldered and tan in a way only sailor became, with dark red hair that matched his younger brothers in length and severe features, Tirathon cut a far more intimidating figure than his brother.

"Ranger general, lieutenants, my apologies for my belated arrival, the dock is rather busy this day, but I trust my brother greeted you warmly?" His tone was anything but warm, however it did not seem to be malic directed at her and Sylvanas could hardly be said to care.

"He did, however I am certain you know this is not a social call, your lordship," she said, bother Haulderon and Lor'Themar bowing respectfully at her back.

"Indeed not," The man answered, glaring out at the coast. "I would have requested thepatrol ships home to chastise them for their failures already if we had the means to replace them."

"But the council only maintains enough upkeep to manage trade and pirates," She filled in.

Tirathon's expression darkened but he nodded, hands clasped behind his back, "I am restoring what I can to good use with our families' funds. Trade with the South has granted us the funds to do that much; still this is a discussion best had indoors and over tea."

'Away from prying ears,' she mussed, before nodding and following the man inside, "I do not suppose your trade has granted you access to any goblin coffee, has it?" she asked out of habit, that question always threw the stuffier families.

The younger brother however beamed, "In face we do, a shipment arrived just last month, I shall have the staff prepare a batch."

'Well, that's my second pleasant surprise this afternoon,' she mused, as the sprightly noble left their company, while Tirathon led them through the dimly lit, martially decorated house.

Blades and beast heads adorned the walls, even a troll tusk could be seen on display; it was not a surprise, like the Farstriders and Rangers, the navy had never quite lapsed into peace as the mages had. There was always something or someone to fight on the open seas, which was perhaps why Tirathon was more sensible than the insulated magisters and other city dwellers.

Still, would it be enough? Merely fastening their belts and arming themselves?

She would ferry any volunteers she could South but that would be but a handful.

Yet until the council saw reason there was little else could do but brace the nation as best, she could.

Sylvanas was not one given to prayer. But if she was, she would pray her efforts be enough, pray the council is convinced before Vereesa comes to harm and most of all, pray that it all be unnecessary.

But fate was rarely so kind.


Precision and planning were not often things sung of in the tales of bards and poets in tales of gods and fate.

Oh, one might dedicate several stanzas to the swing of a blessed blade or the scheming of a clever but heroic thief.

But rarely would more than a single sentence be dedicated to matters like carefully managed food stocks or the building of a dam.

To Krag'jin, this was a shame.

It was thanks to he and his Shadowglen factions forbearers precise planning that their ancestors had survived the fall of the Amani Empire and with it their place as the state of Zul-Ashar.

It was the forward thing and careful plotting of his own forbearers that predicted the oncoming invasion of the Arathi Empire and led them to securing as many of their number as they could in the mountains.

Keeps, halls, forts and home alike were crafted as a refuge for the nation of Mac-Asha, from which their own descendants had watched the ill fated stand of King Montgomery and the fall of Gaval_Mochto a cursed ruin.

Who cursed it none can say and the Shadowglen certainly would not be sharing.

It was because of those generations of work and cunning, that he and his kin still had land and forces to draw on, a fact which they were now using to devastating effect. Krag'jin, like his kin rode upon the back of the long lived Giant_Sea_Turtle across the western coast, bathed in the morning suns light

The war-lord cast his musing from mind, returning to the moment as a particularly strong, and chilly breeze washed over him. His dark leathers did more to guard against spells and axes than they did the cold, but the stinging scent of salty air was more pleasant to him than a trial.

Of course, his good mood my have been bolstered by the day's success.

The lighthouse and humble docks of North_Tide's_Run was now a smoldering ruin and any guard towers and settlements nearby assailed by ogres he had hosted through the winter over several years.

They were not subjects, but they were happy to be directed at places to raid and pillage that would spare the Shadowglen work and with the Alliance distracted, there was little fear of reprisal.

If all went well, those ogres and a smattering of local Gnolls would play merry havoc with the North; none among them were fool enough to try their luck against Fenris Keep and Krag'jin was hard pressed to blame them.

'Still, it shall be enough, even if the Drakkari lose, the humans hold on this place grows ever weaker, Gilneas cowers behind its wall and Lordaeron shall be too bloodied to strike back.' It was a hasty plan, especially by Shadowglen standards, but one mused on for the last six months, as Drakkari shared tales of their land, people, and stratagems.

Besides, it was clear no one cared much for these forests anymore, Gilneas was proof of that!

Despite more than enough blood and names shed, lost or stolen over the generations to suggest otherwise, it seemed that the humans and even other trolls cared little for the hardy, rugged forests.

This was just fine to Krag'jin and his people; they knew the land could be worked and ruled well in the right hands, 'Our own survival says that much if nothing else.'

The war-lord was drawn from hi musing as a voice whispered on the winds, 'Alliance vessel from the North, sailing in haste!'

'The Drakkari must have let one slip away,' he answered back, before raising his arm and flicking his fingers through a simple code.

Within moments, magic washed across his being, suffusing his lungs with divine blessings.

His mount dived deep below the surface, the salty water breathing to him like air, his kindred following suit and soon enough the depths were filled with troll on turtle back. Hooked spears and axes shone with old enchantments and new runes, gifts from the Drakkari and their Nerubians.

'Everything comes down to precision,' he mused, watching as the distant Alliance frigate sailed South in a hurried manner. No doubt desperate to reach Fenris Keep or Kul'Tiras.

That could not be allowed to happen.

Not if they wanted the Keep as weak as possible when the Drakkari arrived, to ensure the Shadowglen could safely claim their prize while the Ice Trolls bombarded the coastal defenses.

The ship was nearing, and his mount snapped its jaws, "Yes my Ka'bak, its time," he cooed.

Clinging to aged leather saddle, Krag'jin and his forces surged towards the ship, writhing tides, jaws of steel enchanted weapons at the ready.

When they struck, it was sudden, brutal, and precise. Strong jaws tearing through wood, while hooked weapons dug in deep, their magic blistering and warping the wood, weakening the hull.

The shouts from up above were muffled, but soon enough their work was done; ensuring that another Alliance frigate would join its fellows at the bottom of the sea.

Drifting to the surface amongst driftwood, Krag'jin watched his fellows' gathering supplies from the sunken ship and finishing off any stragglers.

"We have done fine work this day!" he called, earning a cheer, "Now let us gather any surviving supplies, and return home. Tal'Vass is waiting!"

His kin raised steel and staff high into the air and roared with glee, redoubling their efforts to ensure they could return to their hidden mountain homes soon.

Snatching up a barrel of gunpowder, Krag'jin looked to the looming mountains in the South-West, his mind calling to him images of home. Their intricate mountain paths, the mighty rivers and dams that let the Shadowglen secure themselves and their number not just against invaders but starvation.

It was a fine place, a fine city, but there was no end to the appeal of escaping this delicate dance that necessitated turning a bind eye to Olsen's_Farthing, let alone the Sepulcher. Or constantly needing to negotiate Gnoll and Ogres into the role of buffers and distractions without losing their accords.

Precision and planning had taken them far and if the Shadowglen had anything to say about it, they would go farther than ever before.

'If all goes well, I might have cause to use Gaval Moch as more than a secret storehouse.'

It was a nice thought at least.


Thoras swung the training sword through the air, each slash and swing of the blade causing the candles to dance, making his shadow look haunting as he clashed against his imaginary foe.

He was only partially drawn from his practice when the training hall doors swung open, casting the dark stone chamber, lined with weapons, armor, and held aloft by petrified wood pillars in the brighter lights of the keep.

"Ah Galen, come to join me for some training?" He called, as the younger man slipped into the room, his thin ashen hair tied back in a long braid and his riding armor on.

"Actually, father I-"

Thoras tossed him a training sword and rushed the younger man, their crimson armors cast in stark and menacing light by the candles. Thoras landed the first blow with a clip to Galen's side forcing the boy to hop out of the way.

"Fathe-" Galen barely blocked the second strike, or the third and when Thoras saw him scampering back, catching his breath and making it harder to swing as he ducked between pillars he lashed out with a fist.

It was a hard blow, right to the side where the armor connected, the leather strained under his armored fist and Galen gagged as he slammed into a wall before hitting the ground.

"Come on lad, you can do better than that, you should have tried to break through my guard, not scamper around like some fae duelist," he chided.

Galen lashed out with a hasty swing of his blade, forcing Thoras to lean out of the way, and his bid to bring his blade down was countered by a fierce tackle, not to sending him crashing to the ground but to knock him aside.

Galen raced passed him and spun around, teeth set and eyes ablaze.

"There now, got some fire in your belly. Show me what you can do boy!"

Their fight lasted for another hour before Thoras declared their training done.

Now he leaned against the wall, chest still heaving a touch from the battle, but he hardly noticed, too busy admiring his beloved and recently sharpened Trol'kalar. His son sat on a nearby bench, face still drenched from the goblet of water he poured over himself.

"I actually came to speak with you father" Galen finally said.

"Well spit it out boy, we don't have all night," he chuckled.

Sucking in and letting out a low breath, Galen continued, "This plan of yours, to raise a host and march North, I and others are wary of it."

Thoras frowned, "Oh?"

Galen licked his lips and pressed on hastily, "This has been a hard few years for us father. The trolls are always scheming, brigands and ogres grow bolder by the day. We are still reclaiming Tol'Barad and work on our fleet is just beginning in earnest thanks to preferencing Lordaeron and Stormwind. Several of the nobles' houses and even some of the commanders and I fear marching North into a winter war is a waste of resources."

"Is that all, Galen?" He intoned but did not wait for him to continue instead calling out with a mighty boom, "I am disappointed in you, my son. With our bloodline should come gallantry, not this sort of simpering!"

Galen scowled and rose to his feet, "I am thinking about the good of the kingdom father, the Alliance-"

"Is our ally, we must help them, you expect me to leave old Teranas in the lurch?" Thoras snapped.

"Hardly father," Galen hastily retreated from him, "But surely the Stromgarde Defenders would be sufficient? I am certain that a smattering of platoons made up of Spellweavers, Troll Hunters and some Cavalrymen would be enough to fulfill our obligations?"

Thoras waved his blade through the air, watching the metal shimmer, "We are the family Trollbane my son, and you think us to sit on the sidelines?"

Galen sucked in a breath, "I will gladly accompany a smaller force into battle with the blade if it meant you would remain here and lead the kingdom."

Thoras snorted, "Trol'kalar is to be wielded by the king, not a prince pretending to be a warrior."

"I am not pretending, you are!" Galen snapped, "We need a king! We need a king who puts his nation before Lordaeron rather than acting as a piddling client state! A king who doesn't just surrender our money and our people to bottomless pit that is Stormwind's coffers! We need a king, not a wandering warrior father-"

"That's enough!" Thoras snapped and he saw Galen brace as if expecting a strike, "I will not stand here and watch my son shame our proud lineage so. We are Trollbane's, our people art of Strom, we are the strongest, fiercest, warriors in the land. We shall survive a few simpering merchants and speckles of gold fleeing South. But we shall die as a people, a nation if we stand aside and led these barbarians plunder our allies while not doing everything in our power to help!"

"I-"

"Enough of this!" He snapped, "If you are so overflowing with nervous energy invite that Lieutenant you adore so much to your quarters and get it out of your system. But I expect you to be ready to march when I am!"

The door swung open with a resounding boom and a runner knelt before them, "My prince, my liege, word from Ironforge!"

"Ah fantastic!" Thoras cheered, striding out of the training room, and snatching up the missive, barely aware of Lieutenant_Valorcall sliding in as he left, the door slamming shut behind him.

In the dimly lit chamber, Galen glared at nothing, his gaze shouldering, baleful and bitter in equal measure he snatched up his goblet and launched it into the wall. The sound of shattering glass echoing across the stone as Valorcall shifted to his side.

"It went poorly I take it?" the man offered sympathetically, clapping Galen on the shoulder.

Galen let out a heaving breath and ran a hand through his sopping wet hair, "I have not an idea what I was expecting…"

"Do you wish for a whisper of good news, my prince?"

"Anything at this point, and maybe a healer too," He winced, hand resting on his side, "I believe he fractured another rib."

The lieutenant scowled and nodded, "I shall fetch one, but as for the news, Ariana_Thesslocke told me she agrees with your assessment as do many other Stromgarde_Defenders."

Galen nodded, "That makes her, the Stromgarde_Snipers_Company and a smattering of nobles, not that it means much with things as they are."

"It is something," His companion said as he made his way to the door, "Whatever you do, I will be by your side, Galen."

Then he left, the door swinging shut gently, but if one were to glance inside, they would see a small smile on Galen's lips.


"And thusly, we commit our beloved brother to the Earth. But regret him not, for his soul fades into radiance, his energies shall become one with the Holy Light.

Lo and behold the eternal glory of the Light, that which's grace is as endless as its power; through this holy union, all things are possible.

Pray only to The Holy Light, pray fervently to The Holy Light, and lo you shall be rewarded with miraculous illumination.

Pray not to false idols or for miracles born from naught but desire; for the Lights truth is found in you good works.

Know, that we among its glory bear a duty to foster its holiness within ourselves, and to share it with the world.

Thus, stay steadfast in your dedication, refute all evils be they hate or greed or apathy.

And please, join with me in song, to honor our fallen brother.

Uther Pendragon, the Lightbringer."

Sally Whitemane strode purposefully through the halls of the monastery, her head held high and her steps with purpose, hand clutched tightly around her holy stave as she acutely ignored the wandering gaze of the trolls.

'Think not on what thoughts fill the minds of the wicked, nor fear their sinful touch, for all is purified in The Light.'

Still her frown grew at that thought, as each step along the pristine blue and gold carpet, through nearly bronze hallways grew heavier.

Trolls should never be in the monastery.

Uther the Lightbringer should not lay dead in a tomb.

And Sally Whitemane should not have had to oversee his funeral!

She held back a sigh, 'But it is as I told the flock and the faithful. Prayer and desire alone shall not make the world holy or bring about miracles. It is we who must bring The Holy Light into this world, so much that it burns out all that is dark and vile.'

She did not falter in her steps, nor did she let her eyes linger as she passed by the armory. Once a bastion for training and equipment, now the only place entirely barred to them and under fortified guard by trolls, beast-men, and snake alike.

Her mind drifted back to the funeral, she had stayed much longer than intended, to comfort the bereaved and organize what she could. Everything needed to be perfect, for Uther but also for their peace of mind.

Any efforts to circumnavigate his death were for naught, at least for now, but she knew some would ignore that reality, even as her sermon begged they seek other resolutions. Uther's own favored scriptures claimed the same, but even that would not be enough for some.

'I will be having many of the faithful fall asleep in prayer before they realize we must do more here and now before we can hope to have him restored to us… If ever.'

Shaking away that thought, her family's namesake flickering in front of her face, she came upon the library. No longer the domain of Brother_Korloff and students of lore, it was now heavily trafficked by the invading heathens.

'They claim we can still visit if we wish, but they observe every script and tome for enchantments and dangerous 'spells'!' The sheer gall to compared prayers to The Light as mere spells had made her want to find a ladder, reach up and throttle their Grand Prophet!

Unlike the armory, or even dear Uther's funeral, there was only a small number of guards permanently in the long library, their dark visage cast in crimson light by the hanging braziers. Shelves of books built into every wall, while displays and banners showed art and artifacts.

The walls within were more rounded than the sharp angles seen in the rest of the monastery, owed to its much older nature having once been a humble church, before generations of work remodeled and expanded it.

Slad'Ran, one of the heathen prophets and their seeming keeper was there, just as she had been told. Strangely stout by Drakkari standards, he still stood at nearly ten feet, with slicked back pale purple hair, and scaled robes in a dark shade of blue, lined with gold trim and bronze accents.

His tusks were not as gargantuan as some she'd seen, least of all the bulky barbarian kings, but his features were slim and sharp, akin to a snake. A fact which lined up well with all she had heard from the survivors of his battle with Brother Korloff.

The troll had been looking through a bark covered tome and glancing upon the stain glass windows when she approached him, causing him to close the book gently and turn to face her.

"Honored, Priestess Whitemane," he said with a nod, book held against his chest, "Please do not take offence if I say, I hope the last rites went as well as can be expected."

Sally Whitemane was a talented, devout priestess and a practical woman, but a righteous heart still beat within her chest and so she could not help her answer.

"Would that we could have mourned our beloved brother in private, but we made do," Her tone bordered on bitter and something akin to sarcasm, she briefly feared a flash of anger.

However, the troll merely clicked his teeth together, something that took her a week to realize was not actually a threat but how they 'thought'.

Finally, he answered, "You are an intelligent one, so I will not insult you by claiming to the contrary or acting as though you do not know why we made that decision. Instead, I shall simply ask if there is anything you should need, I imagine we are going to be seeing much of each other before this war is done."

'And that thought does not fill me with joy,' she mused, still not wholly sure 'why' the trolls had even chosen her, let alone spared she and her kin. Yes, in the past trolls had shown 'some' regard for healers, to protect their own no doubt, but she could not shale the thought they, or perhaps their hulking king desired something else from the people, or her.

Pushing such thoughts aside, she glanced to the stained glass window the troll had been studying. It was a lovely piece, woven motes of green glass framing the sun, while 'vines' and 'flowers' grew in its abundance.

"I had heard you had taken to studying here, one among your… Followers, even claimed you wished to speak with me," She answered, resisting the urge to toy with her staff to let loose her nerves.

"Ah, yes," The troll said, opening his book again and revealing to her a vaguely similar sketching, "This almanac is a copy of a historic tome held by the Amani. It talks of their holy festivals, in particular the Summer Sun Solstice. I was merely comparing the pair."

"There is no connection," Whitemane said bluntly, "Likely some Amani saw our artistic efforts and made a feeble copy." That was one of the many standards and well-known answers to such ideas, in the old days of the Arathi Empire such an insinuation would have one lashed, now such thoughts were merely impolitic.

The troll chuckled, "Maybe so, but this temple would need to be quite, quite ancient for that to be the truth of things." He tilted his head to the side and clicked his teeth again, "This is an old place though, not the building but the land, an excellent spot for communing with distant gods I am thinking."

Her lips thinned, "It is a holy site of The Light, no idols or self-proclaimed deities can be found within these walls or upon this sanctified land." She ignored the way he glanced at the historic displays and pressed on. "The monk Tobias of Tirina achieved his first communion with the Light on these fated hills and shone brighter than any star in the sky. A signal it was here, that the faithful and the flock would find succor and safety in a still dangerous and untamed world."

Rather than interrupt, the troll seemed genuinely intrigued, humming, and clicking his tongue, those dark snake like eyes watching her intently.

"Fascinating, I would love the chance to hear more of this. I wonder, ah," He stopped himself and seemed to search for words. "I confess Priestess, I had hoped to avail myself of your people's philosophy and history and did desire your guidance in that, if you or one of yours had the time to spare."

'We have nothing but time; though I shall not send one of my faithful into your hands,' she thought while sorting through the rest of his words.

Leaning a little more heavily on her staff, Whitemane answered, "What do you seek to gain from this? The power of The Light will not wane if you know our slaloms or history."

The troll shook his head, heavy earrings jingling, "This is not for war, it is for understanding and education. To chart the birth of a faith, to see and understand its ideals and what has been shared, taken, or lost…. It is a fascinating thing for a scholar and my patron, the mighty Loa Sseratus is indulgent to the scholarly of mind."

"Wait," she held her hand out flat, confusion and the need to divert his attention driving her forward, "Gods, or Loa. You have used both words in this conversation alone and many times before. Why do you not simply choose one?"

Slad'Ran looked almost comically surprised, eyes wide and fangs clacking together as he seemed to struggle with the question a moment before nodding.

"Oh, I see, I would have assumed you would know, as your lands are so close to the Amani's but it seems not."

'Close?'

Slad'Ran was unaware of her confusion and pressed on with a sort of zeal she was accustomed to seeing among priests or scholars asked a question they rarely had the chance to answer.

"You see, Priestess Whitemane, the being we trolls worship are what you might call… Extra-Planar beings. Some can exist within the world, but usually at their detriment," he added, light dancing between his fingers to show the world and stars in simple form. "Most, however, reside outside and beyond it but are still native to it, born from the world or residing in the spiritual planes that surround it, invisible but everywhere."

He held up a single finger and leaned forward, before thinking better of it and just nodding, "These are the Loa, native divines. The gods however, hail from beyond."

His hands went wide, and a cloudy illusion filled the space between them, of a cosmos alight with stars and shadows, as strange phantom faces drifted across the Great Dark.

"Gods are akin to Loa, but they hail from other worlds and dimensions, places far more distant and alien than we know. Because of this, they are often strange and subtle in their manner. No bonds bind them to our Pantheons, but they are revered and given offerings all the same and grant their boons in return."

He closed his hands with a clap, the smoky illusion vanishing between his hands as the Drakkari smiled, "That is why we distinguish between them, it is akin to long distance family or foreign allies to use a mundane comparison."

"I see, thank you," she said slowly, and she did see, which was not ideal for she should not seek an understanding of the faithless and heathenistic.

The troll grinned, flashing his large fangs, "Consider it repayment for your tale of Tobias of Tirina and this temple. Whatever our differences. The chance to study something so different than what one has ever known is quite a privilege, though…" he added, more gently in that slick, slithery tone, "I imagine it is not appreciated from your perspective."

"It is not," she said bluntly, before motioning to the window that started this conversation, "Still, if you are curious about the glories of The Holy Light, I can spare time to educate you." She ignored the trolls seemingly bemused expression and accepted his nod as cause to continue and spoke.

"This window commemorates the life and deeds of one, Bishop Hylan; who, over two thousand years ago codified the first of the Churches doctrines into the first Holy Book. He carried it with him always until parting with it on his deathbed, granting it unto the hands of the Church. To honor his efforts to illuminate the world with The Holy Light, a feast day was organized by the empire to commemorates the anniversary of his birth at the peak of Summer. To quote the old emperor, 'when the light shines brightest in the hearts of men'."

She ignored the speculative look in Slad'Ran's eyes and the fact his marker still rested on the blasphemous page and pushed forward, leading him to the next window.


Nazgrel didn't hate his circumstances, he had never had the energy to hate. Even though he was not so stricken by malaise as so many of his kindred, hunger, labor, and the cold stripped him of his motive.

He resented how humans ate fine feasts in heated forts while he and his kin subsisted on stews and huddled in the cold.

He disliked how loudly and joyfully humans cheered on their orcish fighting ring, even if he was glad to learn to fight, if for no other reason than a break in endless tedium.

He could even be said to hate humans, but not his circumstances.

Humans would be what they were, and Orcs would be what they were.

He had not the power to change this fate, nor seemingly did anyone else.

Then the Drakkari came, filling the camp with a dread and terror, he had never seen.

All of them were forced into their 'lodges' before things truly began, but it did nothing to hide the growing horror.

Nazgrel watched with his fellows as knights raced out and spearmen lined the walls, while their priests and casters became frantic.

Then they heard it, over the shouts and gunshots, the sound of a mighty thump, a massive blow of flesh against wood, once, twice, there was no third for the gate split apart.

Great warriors, feathered beasts and robed figures poured through the gaping wound in the fort, while others climbed up the walls. Steel struck, bones were shattered, and he heard some elders whisper, "Spirits" under their breath, like his mother used to do.

For a time, he had almost feared these howling monsters would come for them too, or simply replace the humans. But when the slaughter was done, a quick inspection of their quarters saw the trolls, the Drakkari, opening the way for them into the forts and houses once ruled by the humans.

Now, the sick were being tended to, food and meat dispensed and some, like Nazgrel found a new energy suffuse them. Only a handful perhaps, but each one all the stronger for fighting off the malaise or a life in bondage that afflicted most of their kind.

Nazgrel knew the Drakkari must see it that way too. For when he approached the local commander with a wood chopping axe he ripped from a stump and offered to fight, there was no jeering amusement of dismissal. Only steely estimation.

Finally, the giant in ornate armor of the iron-tree clapped him on the shoulder and said, "You will need a finer axe than that, young one. Come with me and we shall see you equipped as a Legionary should be."

Now he stood, side by side with Orc and troll alike; having marched across fields of ash and planes of grass, they gathered outside the city of Lordaeron.

'And soon we shall see it fall,' he promised.
_________________________________________________
NOTES:
And that is that!

Wow, this was honestly quite a fun chapter to write. It gave me the chance to explore several characters and scenes I had wanted to for ages but had no time to and even help better set up some stuff to be introduced next chapter.

Thanks to all those whose suggestions led to this and for whose who supported the idea, I hope it proved and enjoyable read and if you have any questions, comments, or feedback, please feel free to share them. I'd also like to thank Pillowsperky for helping edit two of these scenes and helping with Uther's sermon and generally letting me bounce ideas of them.

Some idle additions:
Burx's backstory is honestly incredibly messed up, so I always feel kinda sympathetic towards him, imagine Thrall but worse and with no positive role models.

I did not know Lord Sunsail had a brother till I started writing this and had to hastily adjust, but I like the shift, also I took a lot of cues for elven interaction from the Travelogue.

I ended up expanding on the Shadowglen way more than expected. I always planned for them to be more than just some people hanging around, but I think the world building seen in another work with the forest trolls having fort cities in the mountains of Lordaeron really inspired me. It also meshes well with them raising giant turtles and building dams, you don't do that stuff when your a minor, struggling population and stuff like Gaval Moch gave me plenty of chances to expand on the lore.

I was never much of a fan of how Galen was portrayed after they decided to make him his fathers killer, so I try and add some additional depth and context to his perspective and circumstances. I also felt that given how quickly Stromgarde folded post Third War, they have to have been struggling before Thoras died and this helps justify Stormwind's bloated population a little. Also thanks again to Pillowsperky for highlighting the whole, Stomgarde had a navy thing XD

Thanks to Pillowsperky for helping with the speech about Uther, I also got some inspiration from Fate/Zero's Excalibur scene and just my own stuff. One thing UI was trying to emphasize was that from the churches perspective the Light is not there to serve people's whims, miracles happen but you put in work to create a world where miracles can happen. This is Uther's take at least, hence it being one of his favorites and read at his funeral.<br />
Also Whitemane has some very (OO) ideas about the Drakkari, some born of war in general, some the Second War specifically, some general prejudice and also a decent amount of presumption about what any 'heathen' regardless of species is like. Also the flock and the faithful is born from viewing worshippers of the Light as different than would be clerics of Paladins. Also the comics apparently imply the monastery was abandoned before the Scarlets which was a big ???? to me, I have to assume it was abandoned in the face of the Scourge but that feels weird given what a defensible position it is, so I ignore it.

The Loa/Gods thing is tied to the fact that in Zul'Drak, there are several dead or dying Loa and also several gods, the Loa were all animals we could converse with, while the gods were represented by stone statues and vague vibes. Add in that Hakkar was called a god but also that no one new where he came from and I extrapolated. Also trolls/Drakkari have a rather specific idea of what constitutes holy in their minds, and the Light kinds confuses/weird them out as it doesn't fit their definition, but they are trying to be polite about it.

Nazgrel's segment was a natural cap off point that let me establish times passage and re-establish the next chapter. I went with the decision to make him young as I did, cos I find the idea Thrall was literally the only Orcish child in the camps impossible (Especially given Burx) and Nazgrel not being portrayed the same way various veterans are.
 
Ty for the thanks, and it's a lovely set of interludes to help fill in the world.
NP, thanks again for your assistance and I am heartened you feel that way, this proved quite fun.

I wonder if that was one of Hooktusk's.
"He kept it? Ha! I feel like I should be flattered."
Pfft, I hadn't considered that, clever idea to be sure.
As it is though (Sorry ><) Hooktusk's tusks are as they are cos she's got mixed heritage and her tusks are super small, she basically slapped the hooks on to compensate and be extra about it.
 
Silverpine Map & Ship Sizes
So I recently posted some very cool maps tot he WOW fic thread:

and cos I liked them so much I decided to use one to mark out Shadowglen territory for funsies, I would have done the invasion but they never did a Trisfal map sadly, but I am pretty pleased with this one:

The green is Shadowglen the rest is human, though I forgot to mark that little pier on the coast to Fenris Keep.

I also found this image again which while not wholly accurate as the Drakkari would need something even bigger being more than twice the size of the average human, this is a pretty neat scale reference for ships:

 
Where is the wow fic thread? I would love to read more fics like this one. Its scratching an inch I didn't know I had
 
The Invasion of Rohk'aka Part 5 (Kings Clash - Part 2)
The Invasion of Rohk'aka Part 5 (Kings Clash - Part 2)
Arctikus looked to the capital city with a fierce scowl. The shining white towers and high walls casting her mind back to stories told of her ancestor's kingdom before the Dwarves cast them down, driving them into the mountain crags.

'First we crush your allies, Ironforge, and then we come for you,' she promised. The image of her son's mangled body and severed head flashing in her mind, making her draw back and hiss.

Running her hand through her white mane, she forced herself back to the task at hand. 'I need to report to Frost King Malakk,' she reminded herself.

Turning she gave Hala'zhi a nod and they turned their backs to the barriers of wind and holy magic protecting their army from cannon fire and marched towards the meeting area.

The camp was long since done marshalling.

Shaman and priests chanted, danced and sang, calling forth their divine power for barriers or the riding storm.

Legionaries in their fine armor and blades were at rest, but still in rank lines, ready to rise and charge the moment they were called to action.

Meanwhile the great beasts rallied near the back of the invasion force as artificers and handlers made them ready to break through the walls or enemy fire.

The rest of the camp was the usual ordered chaos, great tents rose and everything from potion to food were being brewed while scholars and advisors shuffled around in haste.

At the heart of it all was Malakk, residing on his mobile throne, bristling in vexation at his wounds, but keeping his mind sure and focused all the same. That little half human, half troll scholar was taking back a scroll from the gargantuan Drakkari as they arrived.

She strode up to the map table laid out before some of the chieftains and higher ranked priests among the legion's leaders, along with the sole Nerubian representative, Seer_Ixit.

"Ah, Great Mother, Hala'zhi, welcome back. How fares the front?" Malakk asked, his good arm toying with a token as he divided his gaze between the magical map of the city before him and its true counterpart.

"Frost King Malakk," She and the Forest Troll saluted, before Hala'zhi spoke.

"Winter remains an ideal time for this invasion, the rains have ensure the lake backing onto the capital is high and the spirits of storm easy to conjure. Your legions need only maintain three camps to contain those within and they seem vexed their canons cannot bypass our barriers." The troll toyed with their furred mane of gold, "Though the fact they are keeping their casters back is odd to this one."

Arctikus nodded and added. "They have bunkered down with barriers of arcane and light but after their canons did not breach they refuse to engage. Their walls are new, high and adorned with powerful enchantments against brute force or piercing strikes."

She was surprised to see the recently arrived Zol'Maz speak up, "Doubtless their best fighters wait for us behind the gate, yes? They know we are acting with haste and can plan around this fact."

Malakk clicked his tongue, glancing to the sky before muttering, "Tis a shame we had to reveal the Dragoons so soon. Quen'Lith did a strafing run and deemed it impossible to break through."

Hala'zhi huffed, "The orcs war did much to prepare the humans for this possibility, Frost King."

Tapping his throne, Malakk nodded before continuing. "If they are still using their Light so casually, they must not have gotten word of our Saronite, or think it an exaggeration."

Arcikus nodded, "The Siege-Breakers think the same, though as they are using it now, even with Saronite, we may only have one chance at tearing through."

"True, true, if we had we could use it for overwhelming force but we traded much Saronite away and used more for armor than spears; such a shame Otembe could not make his cannon idea work," Malakk hummed. "I don't suppose you have any ideas, Ixit?"

The Nerubian swayed as if blown by the chill winter wind, rocking in place as it blinked disjointedly and said, "Your empires use of the cursed blood is your own. We may aid you here, but not at our own expense."

Malakk smirked, "Another way of saying no," He mock whispered, before continuing, "Are the new recruits holding up well?"

Arctikus shrugged, "Commander Xex'Mon says the Orcs are a motley lot, but seem to be doing well enough, though I think they are undisciplined."

Hala'zhi chuckled, "The commander is not wrong, but they are an extra few hundred hands if nothing else."

Malakk's focus had already drifted, looking to Ixit he asked, "You said that your Seers and arcanists were holding up well, is that still true?"

Ixit hesitated for a time, eyes rolling back as they twitched and shuddered briefly, before answering, "Their interference remains strong, the Nether-Ways between the capital and Dalaran are embroiled and twisted. But the Alliance is working to break through and will succeed if given the time. Familiars also report sign of movement beneath the city, they believe a minor evacuation."

Malakk growled, "I cannot let their king escape us, the longer he lives the longer this war will drag on, we must be swift and decisive."

Zol'Maz was scowling, "If so then I think this war should have been conducted faster, or with more preparation."

"We are more than prepared, you merely hoped us to forsake the crusade entirely," Gal'Darah snapped.

"What are your orders then, Frost King Malakk," Arctikus intoned before the fighting to press on.

He looked to the map in thought for a time, before beginning to grin, "The humans have little understanding of Shamans or Loa, still, yes?"

Hala'zhi let out a raspy, feline like chuckle, "On the battlefield in this number? Most assuredly."

Garl'Darah perked up, "The word was the walls were strong but the foundations, perhaps less so?"

Malakk nodded, "Let us pull back our fliers for now and focus our energies on the storm, but relegate more now to shaking the earth, disrupt their foundations and focus."

'"The spirits are at our side for that," Acrtikus mused, looking to Moorabi, "Do your Taunka have anything else to add to the mix?"

Moorabi grinned, "Better suit for battle than spirit mixing sadly, but I can check if they brought bound Earth Spirits with them."

The was a frantic tapping as Elder Shamans Moky tapped their claws on the table, "Something more. Spirit Beasts. Ours, theirs."

That sparked something in her mind, and Arctikus said, "Shall we have our Waterbinders and Siege-Breakers work with them to get our Saronite Spears close enough to disrupt the gates? If we time it right, we can not only sunder their Light but shatter the walls and surge through the opening."

Her liege grinned, "It can be as you say, Great Mother."

"You wish us to adopt an arrow formation then, Frost King Malakk?" She asked.

The giant troll nodded, "Yes, the longer this goes on the more the humans learn to counter our skills, best we strike hard and fast to keep them off balance. If we break through and onto the main road, it will likely be as Zol'Maz said, their strongest force, but also the heart of much of their defenses. Strike at the wall guardians from behind and we can watch their collective spell work collapse and open many new fronts."

Malakk sent his gaze across them. "This will rely on timing and precision, so I leave the specifics in your and the others hands. Quen'Lith and her dragoons can guard our backs so take whomever you need, marshal the legions as needed and split that barrier open."

Arctikus grinned, her gaze drawn to the dark clouds above their heads, her mind thinking of how delicately the city sat upon a raised bed of earth surrounding by waters on so many sides.

'Fragile to the elements, yes, we can work with this!'

"It will be done, Frost King Malakk!"


Dagren the Orcslayer had, had it up to his beard with this war, Garithos's posturing around the common soldiers and worst of all the ignorance of the mage standing in front of him.

"Paladin," The auburn haired man drawled. "I do not know how things operate in Kul'Tiras, but I assure you our wards can more than handle whatever the trolls can bring to bear upon us. These walls withstood the Horde itself!"

Repressing the urge to simply bludgeon the old man, Dagren bit back, "The Orcs had a poultry force of powerful death casters. Their magic was suited for rending flesh from bone, not stone from the earth."

"Be that as it may," The mage answered airily, "We must not divide our attention between the wards and the barriers, lest their dragons return." He gestured behind him to the circle of mages channeling magic from the city square into the swirling barrier of purple above, their magic joining that of their kin along the walls and bastions in the city.

"Now if you shall excuse me, I must make ready for my shift maintaining the barriers from real threats, and not the trolls imagined spirit gods." He turned to leave and Dagren lost his patience.

"Listen to me man!" Dagren grasped those blue and violet robes and dragged the fool close enough to loom. "I am not some wet behind the ears boy who knows not of what he speaks!"

Some of the other mages looked ready to defend their companion, but Dagren's knightly guards trotted forward to stand in their way as he continued.

"I have dueled sea witches, orcs and horrors from the deep and I am telling you, these trolls will not continue blasting the wall if it remains a waste; instead they will seek to sunder it at the foundations. Now can you give me the mages to reinforce them or not!?"

The magus tried and failed to rally his pride and gulped, "I can spare some, but it may weaken the barrier when their time comes."

"The barrier won't be any use if the walls crumble, now rally them so I can get to work."

"Yes... Lord Paladin."


Within the dimly lit escape tunnels of the capitals castle, a huddled crowd startled at an echoing, crackling rumble.

"Did they breach!?" Someone gasped, near stumbling over themselves until Calia placed her hands at their back, gently encouraging them onward.

"No, no that's thunder, must be a freak storm," One of the guardsmen murmured.

"A storm, now of all times?" Arthas hissed somewhere at the front, where he aggressively swiped at the masses of web with his hammer.

"Storms not so bad," Countered the guard captain, "It might stall the invaders a touch, but will make escaping harder once we get to the boats"

Lianne glanced back at the captain, "Are we at risk of flooding?"

The man slowed but shook his head, "Not possible my queen, these tunnels are old but well maintained, there should be a system in place.

Lianne froze and whispered, "If they are well maintained how have they become so overcome with webs?"

Their procession stilled, Arthas cursing as he yanked his hammer free and nearly fell, only to be held up by a guard.

"Shine a beacon ahead of us," the captain snapped.

One of the mages among them did exactly that and they were greeted not by the sight of thicker and thicker webs that almost seemed to glow as they shivered and shook as though filled with thrashing insects.

"The… Storm?" Calia asked hopefully.

"No, no this is not natural," The guard captain hissed.

A voice clicked and rebounded around them in the dimly lit halls, the sound of skittering feet tapping in time with the webs as weapons were drawn.

"Clever little prey, still outside the heart of our webs, but not beyond our sight. We shall send our familiars to entertain you while the city falls."

With that, gleaming eyes swarmed into the room, warped, and mutated spiders twitching violently and hissing like snakes as they charged.

Someone screamed and Arthas called to the Light, their voices drowned out by the crack of thunder.


Nazgrel was used to feeling crowded.

The camps had been cramped and over-stuffed from the moment he'd been forced into them as a child and only death had made room.

He stood among his fellow orcs in the only "Orcish Legion" of the troll's army. It was made up of those who had shaken off the lethargy or like him, never suffered its worst pangs thanks to being young. None had ever told him why that helped.

They all bristled in the face of cold winds and at the galling sight of the human's city, such gleaming, clean perfections and open space while they had been forced into rotting wooden cabins to slave away their lives!

Older warriors snarled and growled, barely holding themselves back, their minds filled with thoughts of avenging a passed defeat. The young among them, as far as Nazgrel could tell were caught between trying to imitate their elders or the severe manner of their liberators.

Nazgrel however was doing neither, his gaze locked upon the robed trolls chanting and dancing, energies radiating from them he could not see yet could somehow feel. He watched as the clouds swirled and writhed around the city, growing heavy and dark, belching out rain and lightning on the magic that protected it as rain began to fall.

'It's like you said mother, there are spirits in the air.'

He stepped forward, he broke ranks, barely hearing the words of his fellows as he stepped forward and felt raindrops splash against his cheeks, wanting to weep and roar.

"Legionnaire, fall in!" Their commander barked.

Nazgrel looked back at the towering troll, "Commander Xex'Mon, there are spirits, you have spirits…"

The troll quirked his brow confusedly, "Aye, these ones are different than we're used to, but eager to speak for so few here have listened. You know of spirits?"

"My…My mother told me of them, before the humans broke her… I never knew if she was right until now."

Striding forward to clap him on the back with a giant hand the troll said, "They are every bit as real as you or I, and with their aid, we're gonna avenge your ma."

Lightning crashed against the city's magic and the ground began to rumble, drawing shouts of confusion from the city's defenders.

"It won't be long now," Xex'Mon murmured.

Nazgrel smiled.


Magroth_the_Defender looked down at the amassed army, his heart stirring with anger ill-befitting of a Paladin. His war star mace clutched so tightly his knuckles almost ached as his chest burned.

"So many, there's so damn many," A soldier murmured.

"I didn't think there were this many trolls left on the planet, let alone an army," another whispered.

"Stand fast!" Garrithos bellowed, "We'll cull their numbers back shortly. This is the armies time to shine, don't let these monsters intimidate you, they will break upon our walls with ease!"

Mograth glanced at the bulky mustachioed man, "You would do well not to underestimate a force that felled Uther the Lightbringer, inspiration is necessary in war, but so too is caution."

Garithos huffed, "Uther the Lightbringer is to be honored, but he clearly was overwhelmed by their numbers. Why there could well be a hundred thousand surrounding our fair city, anyone could be defeated marching into that unprepared."

"You accuse him of carelessness?" Mograth groused.

"No, merely not knowing this enemy," he answered, casually toying with his moustache. "It's as the men said, these beasts should be living in the foothills and caves, not amassing in any real number." The half trained Paladin's smirk grew wide as he jeered, "Look upon what they bring to batter our gate, a mere ballista! Tell me they are anything but a motley crew of animals relying on their numbers?"

Mograth glared down at the distant but growing ballista, surrounded by a parade of water elementals, and enshrined with a reinforced mobile guard tower on wheels, bearing strange runes.

"If they have confidence in it, we should view it as a threat," Mograth counselled.

Only to be waved off, "If you wish to then reinforce the gates then do so, brother, and leave me be."

Cannon fire rained down but was met with powerful waterspouts that softened their speed, letting them rebound off the siege engines and fall to the ground. All while the stout ballista continued its path, a host of trolls and shaggy furred creatures marshalling at its back while great mounted beasts trumpeted and stomped in the distance.

Leaping from the walls, Mograth joined Halahk and they raised their weapons high, "Paladins, students of the Silver Hand, reinforce the gates and show these invaders the power of the Holy Light!"


The pace of the quakes was growing, the storm showed no signs of slowing, the winds howled, and the gates of the city pulsed with lavender and golden light.

Arctikus could feel the rhythm of the battlefield take hold as Shaman's chants and Priests prayers rose high. Offerings to Shango and the Drakkari Pantheon were laid low upon makeshift alters as warriors began chanting, "Dra-Kar-Ri" over and over to the sound of thumping feet.

Zol'Maz at her side, his Iron Tree armor resplendent, his heavy axe in hand and his body pulsing with a crimson light.

The Great Mother clutched her Saronite tipped spear and marched at the back of the siege engine, letting the sounds of mounting war and thrumming energies of battle suffuse her being when-

The lightning comes, the earth shakes, her eyes flew open.

"FIRE!"

The trolls within did not hesitate to obey and with a snap the Saronite infused ballista, shining with emerald runes and tipped with the pulsing black metal was loosed.

It soared with neither resistance nor support from the air, its presence a near figment before it pressed against the barrier, devouring magic, piercing the enchanted gates and rupturing the light.

What followed was like a scream.

Golden flames howled, stone and wood was shattered and splintered as the barriers broke and a blast of force was let loose upon the city's defenders for which none were prepared.

The humans were not granted a moment's respite.

The earth beneath the gates towers ripped and sundered, swallowing and disgorging stone as the world itself seemed to shake apart. The lightning barreled down crackling and lashing around the streets and disrupting the hurried mages bid to block their way.

No order need be given to unleash the second wave, as a horde of screaming elements savage spirits and conjured monsters swarmed around them like howling winds.

But the Alliance was rallying, even as the spectral force burst into the city, clawing, flying and slithering their way up the walls and intent on washing over the marshalled soldiers like a wave-

They were being stopped.

The rallied troops stood ready, mages and priests let loose their spells to defend their brethren on the gates and at the forefront stood twin paladins in resplendent armored robes; star mace and long sword raised high, a golden barrier burned away at all that dared approach them.

"Charge!" Zol'Maz bellowed.

The stampeding rhino behind them forced them to part, its armored frame shaking the earth as well as any spirit and forcing even the Alliance to brace while those on the walls struggled to find purchase.

As it crashed against their shield the world seemed to shudder and shake before a glowing golden mace swung and with an explosive crack obliterated the beasts head. Its riders furious leap to avenge their mount was met with a single slash from the other Paladin and the Drakkari was burnt to ashes in a wave of gold.

"We must take them," Arctikus hissed as she began to run.

"I will take the blade," Zol'Maz intoned, his personal guard racing behind him, while Earth Shaking Dire Trolls at hers while snapping raptors and Frozen Warlords nipped at their heels.

The twin defenders, in their resplendent blue regalia, the mace wielder roared, "Come vile invaders! Face we the Defenders of Justice and the Circle of Holy Light, face Magroth and Halahk!"

The soldiers rallied and the twin paladins braced to meet them, the mages frantic efforts to reinforce the gate not swift enough to stop their charge as Arctikus roared.

"Come then champion, you face the Great Mother Arctikus and the Warlord Zol'Maz!"

Carried on cold winds they vaulted forward, the twin paladins charging to meet them, only to leap between the other at the last moment.

Zol'Maz snarled as the star mace crashed against his heavy axe, their clash tearing at the cobblestone as Magroth's body was encompassed in a golden aura to match Zol'maz's crimson.

Actricus hissed as she weave around sharp slashes of Halahk's blade. Fate seemed to smile as she struck the golden sword with Saronite steel only for the man to use the burst of force to spin around and deliver a blistering cut to her cheek.

All around them soldiers were beginning to clash, the Alliance desperate to stem the tide and Drakkari equally desperate to not let the breach seal.

Few had the strength or speed to survive getting between the champions bouts. Arctikus knew she could do little, but leave the battle to the commanders and chieftains as she braced for another bout.


Cariel Roame was not a commander, she was barely a Paladin, but the trolls outnumbered them -Which still felt like madness to say- and reinforcements were at least days away.

Their commanders had a plan though, to turtle up and wait out the siege, then spill forth and crush the enemy when reinforcements came from all sides.

But as her father often said, only fools have one plan and their commanders were anything but that.

If, if the trolls breached, the elite orders would hold main street and bear the brunt of the invaders mightiest vanguard. If they couldn't wholly force them out, they'd slowly stagger back, allowing reinforcements to strike from the East and West streets.

This plan was bolstered by having sharp shooters and mages on the roofs to rain down death on the enemy; trolls never fought in cities so Lordaeron was at the advantage.

'Working like a charm!' She thought, swaying out of the way of a Dire Trolls swing, its body so wide and muscles to large she practically filled the street!

But it did not save the troll, guttural roar escaping her maw, spearmen pierced her wrists and twisted their blades in. The knights binding the steel to their mounts as her reactions were slowed by mages.

Cariel raced forward, leaping off the trolls knee, her arm and into the air she swung her hammer and watched the trolls head go flying!

The troll fell back towards her kin with a slam and Cariel landed with a huff, 'I wonder if this is how Gnomes feel?'

She had no more time to thin, brushing her drake braids away from her face, she hopped back hastily as dark armored warriors burst onto the field.

'We know of your metal now!' She thought, watching as whips and nets were deployed to bind the trolls so arrows and daggers could be driven through the slots in their armor.

She was drawn from the foray when a scream struck her ears, one among many but-

She cast a glance behind her and her eyes widened as a mage fell from the roof, a snake clinging to their neck. Then watched as a troll burst through the wooden roof of a house and wrapped his giant hands around two archers waists and dragged them down.

Her gaze drifted and she could see more swarming the walls, equipped with climbing equipment like spiked shoes and gloves letting them crawl on walls like spiders.

A snarl caught her attention and she raised her rounded shield just in time to stop a lightning strike as furry little creatures the size of Dwarves began lashing out from the alleyways.

'Maybe we shouldn't have assumed they didn't now how to fight in cities,' he thought bitterly, racing after the leather armored beasts with a pair of footman.

'But that alone won't win you the war!'


Gal'Darah's stood atop the central siege engine besieging the West Towers. At his back was a priest of each of the Pantheon. All accompanied by a Shaman, while a Legion of them gathered at their backs along with the soldiers, chanting and singing and dancing!

HIs vision swam with divine ecstasy.

The world a myriad of shifting, rippling, light and color.

The souls before him, harried and confused were laid bare, while his kin formed a divine chorus.

Beneath his feet the siege tower rumbled, disgorging cannon fire and spears in equal measure at the mightiest towers, while the storm above let loose bolts of lightning and the ground roared.

There was no need to raise new spirits in this place, so long ignored they danced and sang at the sensation of his mind mingling with theirs and roared to be heard for the first time in millennia.

The Legions chanted and cheered, giving their voices to the cause as Gal'Darah swayed and swung his arms; the mad conduction of one possessed with divine mission. Tears of blood spilled from his glowing eyes and in his maw and through his veins a vengeful light shone.

Another chant, another prayer, another roar and ground beneath the tower turned to mud, draining with it the stone slabbed streets and forced fortifications of ice and magic meant to hold them in place.

The tower strained but the chorus of the skies sang their song of death and Gal'Darah's hands lashed out with a single strike and pierced the straining shield. Lightning running along the tower walls side, the brick ruptured and sundered at least and the white tower fell.

Another bastion for the barrier mages gone and with it, the West district lay open to them.

Down bellow Chieftain Krol'Ton roared, "Make for the breach, before their barrier reforms!"


The earth shook, lightning crashed against the city's defenses as cannons roared and the army flooded the streets.

Bloodlust was already beginning to take some of his fellow orcs, but Nazgrel kept his focus on their commander.

The trolls gleaming white armor making him stand out as they barreled through the gaping wound in the cities wall..

"Follow me, to the Grand Garrison!"

Nazgrel raised his war-blade high and roared in time with the thunder.


Dagren the Orcslayer bit back a curse, 'Just another hour to bolsters the streets, if only we'd had some of those damned Water Priests!'

But lamentation did not save lives and so he drew his war glaive and bellowed, "Rally, rally to me and plug that wound in our walls! Reform the barrier from the Grand Garrison!"

In the distance he heard the familiar roars of 'Lok'Tar Ogar!' and frowned, 'Bolstering their forces are they?' If that were the case it was not just a question of trolls but how many enemies the Alliance might face.

As the tide of spirit beasts and roiling elementals stemmed, followed now by a wave of blue and green warriors and casters, Dagren braced for battle, even as his mind plotted far, farther ahead.

'Even if the city falls, the Alliance will not!'


The battle had been slipping away from Arctikus, she wasn't sure how or when. The Drakkari were advancing in yes, but it seemed a dozen duels were taking place on streets and rooftops. The sheer chaos was almost overwhelming!

"Ah!" Another flash of light to her eyes forced her to focus as she deftly dodged Halahk's following strike and skidded along the stone streets.

She could see him charge again and met her spear with his blade but there was no flash of explosive Shadow and Light. Her strike glanced off and he was getting in close, a gash along her belly forced her back and to guard.

He struck.

This time there was a blast, but while he braced for the shock, Arctikus did not and let out a guttural shout as her arm snapped from the force, spear launched free as she was sent staggering back.

Halahk flung himself into the air, golden wings carrying him aloft; Arctikus drew her crystal dagger and braced for battle.

Only for a bulky shadow to leap between them, with shaggy fur and a massive carved totem for a weapon.

Halahk struck but his Light clashed with the spirits of Taunka ancestors and lost, his wings flared as the howling ghosts roared and forced him to drift back.

The strangely deep and melodic calls of the Taunka Shamans filled the air and a host of Spirit Beasts, Shoveltusks, Rhino, Leopards and more surged into the street. Halahk's mages met them with walls of conjured ice as they fell back another block.

They were winning this... Slowly.

Arctikus bit back a hiss as her shattered arm dangled at her side, 'If I find that Paladin again, I shall run him through.'

Meeting the furred face of the Taunka she forced a grin through the grimacing pain, "My thanks," she said, taking back her spear from another.

"Think little of it, Drakkari," The Spirit Warrior intoned, "Where shall we strike?"

Glancing around and only half paying heed to the Taunka shaman trying to set and heal her arm, Arctikus mused that question and cast her gaze to the still purple tinged sky.

"We need their mage force gutted before we can truly take the city," She muttered, eyeing the purple tipped mage tower practically humming with Arcane magic.

'If I waste this spear and we lose it, the castle might become fortified, but if this goes on we'll be worn down!' It was an easy choice to make, really.

Raising her spear high, the spirits lifting her voice aloft. "Saronite Ballista forward, warriors, clear us a path to crack open the mages tower!"

"Hail Chieftain!" the warriors roared, as a mammoth let loose its trumpeting call.


Axes had never been Magroth's primary weapon, but after he had lost his Star-Mace fighting the Drakkari Warlord, he'd had little choice but to take up the injured trolls weapon.

And as he raced up the steps of the wall to see a troll clambering over the edge, only to let the axe loose and bury it in her skull, he decided that decision had been a wise one.

Before her body fell, he yanked the crimson touched axe from her head and beheaded another troll clambering over the walls, their shield not saving them.

All around him the streets were in mounting chaos.

Garithos had been blasted apart with the gates which had undermined command.

Halahk had been driven deeper into the city and making his way to the Market Square to guard the mages.

Light only knew where Dagren was and all the while soldiers on the wall were still trying to blast away at the invaders.

The cannon fire was almost deafening, but it was little compared tot he trumpeting calls of the war beasts.

Grrasping the nearest cannoneer, he bellowed, "Leave the cannons!"

"But Lord Paladin, they are breaching the city!"

He grasped the younger man's shoulder, "They know the shots are coming, these will do no more good. We are falling back to the second layer before they push too deep into the city, and I need help evacuating everyone while the mages ready the secondary barrier!"

That was when Saronite steel struck the great mages tower of Lordaeron, as fire and lightning rained down on the barrier and one too many mages was struck low.

That was when the barrier started to break.


Dagren's battle had seen he and his forces driven further and further back.

A bid to hold the garrison had lasted for a time, but they lacked the numbers and experience to stop the stone turning against them.

Now he duels along the city walls, the 'Drakkari Chieftain', a hulking warrior who had sworn revenge for his murdered mount.

His gold-black armor blazed as he swung his mace, each of them bloodied and battered from the days events but-

The barrier shattered, unveiling to all the stormy skies above and with it, the promise that every Alliance soldier was now a target for the wicked storms.

The Chieftain cackled, "The war is done, Paladin!"

Draconic screeches rose high in the air, the rumbling finally ceased, only for the skies above to crackle as their priests and shamans shifted their attention.

"The battle maybe," He murmured as the troll charged him.

Dagren weaved around the strike, letting it glance against his chest plate and kicked off from the ground, one arm snaking around the blade.

The troll was stunned only now seeing he had been played the fool but too late as Dagren let loose a hammer of light at the chieftain's feet, an explosion of force sending both of them toppling off the battlements and towards the lake below.

'I am a son of Kul'Tiras, I can survive the water,' he thought to himself as the troll desperately struggled after him.

"We die together!" The troll cackled.

"No," Dagren answered, a burst of Light enshrouding his frame moments before they crashed against the water, the bubble absorbing the force while the troll's body snapped.

Surfacing, Dagren kept himself close to the rocky peninsula upon which Lordaeron city sat to keep himself afloat.

'The city is yours, but not the nation, not the Alliance.'


Teranas froze on his throne at the sensation of the air cracking in accordance with lightning.

Like shattered glass and storming gales, the wind cried as the barrier around the city was not just pierced but shredded. Its magic writhing and lashing across the skies before fading like the evening sun.

Pressed against his throne, he bared his teeth as windows rattled and cracked, mutterings, "Guards… Guards!"

Trumpets bellowed and he snapped, "Be ready to die holding this chamber!"


Malakk watched the barrier splint and break with a satisfied nod, letting a wave of magically enhanced wind wash over him like a wave, blasting back his mammoth's fur as the beast bellowed as if to compete with the sound.

Tapping the throne and motioning Moorabi to march them forward, Malakk roared, "Legions of Zul'Drak, descend upon the city, we end this war, now!" On his back, grasped tightly in his left hand, Zerat seethed.

The Legions acted as one.

Be it in the skies,

Quen'Lith smirked, lucky bone necklace intertwined with her fingers as she roared, "Dragoons, descend on the palace, do not let them erect another barrier, Shriekers guard our backs against their Gryphons!"

Upon the earth,

"Our Frost King demands we march, so remember the plan, encircle their church, we cannot let it become a home to resistances!" Gal'Darah bellowed as he and Batu charged towards the capital.

Or within the catacombs,

"Take the royal family, and the elf, now!" Anok'suten decreed, warriors swarming through steel and flames to their targets.

Brushing off his dented armor, Zol'Maz spoke with grim certainty as he motioned his army forward. "Maintain ranks, barriers and shields ready, wear them down and give no relief!"

The mages could not cast in time, the paladins and priests were to spread out, the Wildhammer shamans too few and too distracted. With such losses the walls would hold for only a time on their own.

Waves of legions unleashed their fury upon enchanted stone like a howling hurricane, sundering and shattering the walls as more and more raced through the city gates or climbed over the fortifications.

From upon his mounted throne, Malakk's gaze was set upon the shining palace, unwavering, unyielding and unforgiving as an executioner's blade.


Teranas could not say how long it had been, but surely it could not have been so quick?

It seemed as though one moment their defenses had held, the next it had broken and they were inundated with dragons on the towers and warriors at the walls.

Every magus was in play, every paladin in the fray and every soldier at work trying to hold back the massive assault on the castle, with only a small host trying to hold the throne room doors that creaked and thudded with the troll's assault.

'Surely they could break in elsewhere, but if they want to make this symbolic, let them. The more time it buys the better.'

It was not to be long however; a glint of steel glimmered as it pierced the door and while forced back with a pulse of magical lightning it was but a prelude to the true breaker.

Teranas could hardly believe his eyes as his throne room was split open by a monstrously large beast that could scarcely fit through the grand double doors. Mighty, metal adorned tusks slashed through the air sending soldiers to their backs. A snake like nose lashed out as though a whip and it bellowed at the mages on the balconies surrounding his throne room.

The sound was echoing and booming in the closed hall, windows shattered and a deafening ringing sung out.

Teranas watched, head aching and rising from his throne as three trolls leapt from the beasts' head.

The first was sharp and lean, wielding twin daggers he cackled and pounced upon the nearest mage.

The next was a troll in all crimson regalia, wielding a giant blade of flames that cut down the first guards unlucky enough to rush them.

The other wore thick robes and strange armor; a spear was deflected off her stone shield, and when the knight tried to draw it back, she grasped it. The winds howled, pulling the guard forward and letting her drive her war hammer into his stomach, sending him crashing into a balcony like a ragdoll.

The shock wore off and more troops barreled in from the halls, but it had been too late the moment the doors were breached. Now a blue sea of trolls swarmed into his chambers, filling the halls, and swarming the balconies.

From atop the beast, on a throne of stone rose the tallest among them. He walked gingerly down the bowing beast's head and stepped off ever so lightly. A strange multi-pronged sword in one hand, he seethed, giant tusks glinting in the flashing light outside as his eyes swam with hatred.

The troll kicked a fallen spear to him, hissing in rough common, "Ready a weapon little king, for justice has come and I'd give you a fairer chance than you gave my friend and Speaker, Malaka'Raz!"

'Oh...'

All at once the reason for this became startlingly clear and all of it too late to help them.

Sucking in a breath and rising to his feet, Teranas said, "I suppose solving this in a civilized manner is no longer possible."

The troll scoffed, "You saw to that."

Licking his lips and ignoring the desire to curse his circumstances, Teranas took up a fallen guards spear. 'The longer this battle lasts, the more time my family has to escape.'

"I was never much for fighting, but I will not let you take my home without a challenge!" He shouted, aiming the spear at his foes throat, and racing forward.

The blade writhed as if alive, flashed through the air, in one stroke it cut the spear in twain, but Teranas did not have time to think, as the troll blurred passed him and struck.

He felt a deep, burning pain and then…

Nothing.


The shouts of horror and rage from the Alliance soldiers barely registered to Malakk. He was too busying biting back the surging pain in his side and marched up the steps of the fallen human's dais to sit before his too small throne.

"Crush whatever soldiers remain and find me every record, diplomat and royal you can," he ground out.

"Hail, Frost King Malakk!" His soldiers cheered, washing over the remaining resistance within but a moment and surging through the castle halls like a flood.

Taking deep shallow breaths, Malakk used Zerat to scoop up the king's crown and rolled it between his fingers as the sounds of battle still raged outside.

'Malaka'raz, may you know serenity in this justice, my friend.'
__________________
NOTES:
Well there you have it, the Drakkari accomplished one of their most primary objectives and have also burnt through basically all their surprise bonuses and secret advantages. Because the Alliance now knows how the Drakkari fight, the kind of magic and numbers they can bring to bear and there's no way to pull surprise dragons a second time, so unless the Drakkari leave now or adjust their strategy the war will grow much, much worse as the Alliance forces are rallying.

Much of this chapter was recently written content, discussions with others made me realize I really rushed this chapter and I wanted to both show more of the battle and strategies on display, as well as show the Alliance getting their licks in despite being heavily outnumbered at this stage. Honestly Dagren getting away is a recent shift so we'll see how much if anything that changes, but its rooted in the fact the guy just kept surviving in WC3, so I interpreted him as a serious minded type who knows when to fold-em. Morgrath and Halahk are more fight till the end types but I didn't want to break the flow by dragging that sort of thing out on screen, and who knows they might have been captured.

As to the magic on display, well consider this the Shamanistic equivalent of what the mages did in the Troll Wars; plus as noted the Alliance hasn't had to deal with strong Shaman, let alone an army of Shaman for generations so their wards were ill prepped for these kind of attacks. Also for those who requested it, I tried to include more Taunka and also some Wolvar! Also thanks to Pillowsperky for reminding me the spirit beasts exists, that and Ganonso's work gave me a lot of inspiration for new ways for the Drakkari to use line and siege breakers without taking direct causalities.

Also while not a main thing, one aspect I always feel the need to note is just how stupid big Drakkari are, hence being able to grab people by the waste with one hand or a Dire Troll basically filling a street XD Also I recently learned siege towers mostly held ballista, archers and cannon recently, so that was fun.
 
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Holy cow man. Great story, great continuation. I like how you make it clear that while these tactics work now, it wouldn't necessarily work again since the surprise is gone.

I hope that the alliance can have the presence of mind to understand they brought this upon themselves, like the king did at the end. I doubt it though.

thanks for the chapter!
 
I hope that the alliance can have the presence of mind to understand they brought this upon themselves, like the king did at the end. I doubt it though.

It's certainly a chance for reflection and reduction of their biases, though in certan cases (like the orcs and horde-allied troll tribes) I feel that The Alliance has somewhat earned their paranoia and prejudice.

Not to say that prejudice and bigotry is ever excusable or justifiable, just that it can be understandable considering the near-apocalypse that the Alliance states survived.
 
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Holy cow man. Great story, great continuation. I like how you make it clear that while these tactics work now, it wouldn't necessarily work again since the surprise is gone.

I hope that the alliance can have the presence of mind to understand they brought this upon themselves, like the king did at the end. I doubt it though.

thanks for the chapter!
Thanks so much for the high praise, I really appreciate it and I am glad that aspect came through, cos yeah, this stuff is out of left field, but the Alliance isn't led by fools, they'll start to grock with the patterns sooner rather than later and even with said advantages they aren't weak, ya know?

I think it'll vary, some will develop their understanding of the situation and be mroe reflective, others won't believe it or won't care, or simply not place as much importance on concepts like not killing a diplomat as the Drakkari do.

Thanks for the comment!

It's certainly a chance for reflection and reduction of their biases, though in certan cases (like the orcs and horde-allied troll tribes) I feel that The Alliance has somewhat earned their paranoia and prejudice.

Not to say that prejudice and bigotry is ever excusable or justifiable, just that it can be understandable considering the near-apocalypse that the Alliance states survived.
Its a mixed bag, I think its fair to be paranoid about the orcs, the canals of Stormwind being piled high with the mangled, tortured corpses of civilians will certainly leave an impression. However, when it comes to say the Forest Tribes, that's kind of a monster of their own making.
 
Its a mixed bag, I think its fair to be paranoid about the orcs, the canals of Stormwind being piled high with the mangled, tortured corpses of civilians will certainly leave an impression. However, when it comes to say the Forest Tribes, that's kind of a monster of their own making.

I would not exactly call the forest tribes blameless when it comes to their conflict with the Alliance. They did join the horde in their omnicidal rampage, and they have been in conflict with the human, dwarven and elven kingdoms for centuries.

There has been slaughter and killings on both sides, and the troll tribes don't precisely have the best history when it comes to commiting atrocities. They were enthusiatically taking part in all sorts of horrendous things during the Troll Wars, the Gurubashi conflicts and the 1st+2nd dark portal wars.
 
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