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Putting the Craft in Warcraft

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AbZHz101 said:
*Raises hand* Is Alterc burning a good thing?
Click to expand...
Click to shrink...

It's mixed. Alterac fell to treason and would've joined its forces with the Scourge, and it's now embroilled in an extremely messy civil war where the military and those loyal to the Light are trying to purge the Scourge and its servants from Alterac. Unfortunately, the latter are hard pressed at best even as they bog the Scourge down enough it can't move troops around very well.

Alterac is both inconsequential and critical. It divides the North and the South of the continent of Lordaeron through a number of major trade roads and passes through the mountains it controls. Whoever holds it has a nice advantage in consolidating its troops. However, it's also pretty easy to close down the passes, and until the fronts stabilise there's not a lot that's going to do much good even if the Alliance sends reinforcements.

The most and hardest fighting will have to be done outside of Alterac now.



Our best bets are ensuring the Sunwell doesn't fall, and preferably neither does the Arathi lands held under Stromgarde and the Horde.

We should consider involving Kul Tiras in the fighting, but I've the feeling that Kul Tiras, Stormwind and the gnomes of Gnomergan are mobilising to support the North, or at minimum preparing their homefront for the assault, while the Dwarves are likely to decide to bury the hatchet while the homelands of their friends burn. They can continue their feud later.
 
[x] Fate point to Arthi Highlands
[x] Personal intervention elves

Yeah, Black Dragonflight is going to "love" this.
"Oh, by the way, that's your new Boss".

...at least one of them is going to visit for "confirmation".
Remember that bit of Nalice killing us if she thought we were worth the time?
And the "Dont think you are the first trying to redeem us"-bit?

This is going to be hilarious.


Also, relevant


Also, Lost Star, you might want to look at the name of the threadmark.
 
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I would like to try and write something about stromguard but I have trouble finding a map of the era. is this any good?


I assume that Thoras Trollbane is still king since the Syndicate is not a thing in this quest right?
 
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I'm going to be honest, there are far too many characters for me to remember them all. So if they haven't been mentioned, please feel free to think up something.
 
[x] Fate point to Arthi Highlands
[x] Personal intervention elves

so long as the elves don't lose the Sunwell, any other damage can be overlooked. Reserving other fate points for later.
 
[x] Fate point to Arthi Highlands
[x] Personal intervention elves
[x] Fate point on the elves
voting for this to make the most use out of sunwell
aka hoping we can do something like enfuse completely with light.
 
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Well. That might have been why "Get Exalted with all Flights" was a useful pre-requisite to forging and using the ring. Because it would've meant Malygos not losing his shit and ganking us, what with the other Dragon-Aspects being willing to vouch for us.

And wow. Our Personal Intervention took Dalaran from "Total Rout" to "Costly Victory". That's a hell of a change. Was a big part of that because of the ring?

Question: is there any way to get help from the Children of the Sun and Moon? Especially the Night Elves and the Draenei. The former fought the Legion back in the War of the Ancients, and the latter have been hounded by the Legion their whole lives.

If anything, I could see the Night Elves and Draenei deciding to join in now that the Burning Legion has shown up, because that's their ancestral enemies effectively. At the least, the Draenei would definitely get really pissed about hearing about Demons showing up again.

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Musing on other random stuff:

So, hm. We know what happens in WarCraft 3 during the Orc Campaign. Mannoroth shows up again, some orcs get tainted again, and then Grom kills Mannoroth to free the orcs again. But it can't really happen the same way here; the Horde wasn't shattered and the orcs imprisoned, instead half of it came under new management under Jinji and hald under Anduin Lothar and his successor Thrall/Go'el; they wouldn't come into conflict with the Night Elves in the same way because there's already been contact with Kalimdor, etc etc.

In fact the Horde is only fighting against the Scourge and the Burning Legion; it wouldn't really make sense to accept help from the Burning Legion because they are fighting against them.

Still, it'll probably be something the Burning Legion might try to repeat, even if the different circumstances might get the Orcs to say "Get fucked". The only ones I see being tempted by that is the likes of Gul'dans faction... except that, well, those guys seceded and tried to make their way back to Draenor with Gul'dan.

... Honestly I think the Orc Campaign might instead just straight-up have a "hunt down and finish off Mannoroth once and for all" quest-line rather than a "get bloodcursed again, get redemption" quest-line.

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I wonder what Medivh is doing here. Perhaps he's taking a semi-vacation and working out ways to permakill Dreadlords like over in Warcraft Kingdoms. :p

"Attempt #386: Having a Fire Elemental suplex one into an active volcano, while extremely satisfying and effective, failed to permanently put them down... Note to self: maybe get a bigger, magical, volcano..."
 
OMAKE​

The Battle of Eastpoint​


Part 1​


Army of Stromguard Command Post, Durnholde Keep,Hillsbrad Foothills, Kingdom of Lordaeron.​


Thoras Trollbane, King of Stromguard, looked at the maps scattered around and shook his head as he pondered the last reports. After all his efforts of the past decades, all his sacrifices, the victories against the orcs and their Horde, there was a real danger that his beloved Stromguard would end up a ruin after all. It was unbelievable, but the events of the last few weeks made a mockery of a lifetime of sacrifice, careful politics and slow ascension for his nation.


As if he could will away the facts, he bent his formidable mind to the task of finding a way to make this work. Sitting right across him Captain Ironhill, leader of the dwarven fortress of Dun Garok and Lieutenant General Aedelas Blackmoore commander of Durnholde keep were poring over the maps as well ready to give recommendations or advice and shape the tactical plan for the battle to come.


At the beginning this situation had seemed so simple. Sure, Lordaeron had alot of trouble with this Scourge but the best part of the larger Kingdom's army was away at Northrend and Alterac.... Well everyone knew that Alterac was far more bark than bite. Losing to a bunch of jumped up undead seemed par on course for the small kingdom. At least they had held long enough for the messengers to reach Stromguard Keep and for him to gather his army.


He'd force marched his army, twenty thousand souls if one included the militia he raised, over half the levy of the Kingdom for 3 days, passing through the massive but damaged Thoradin's Wall unchallenged by any Lordaeron soldiery and arrived at Durnholde Keep finding two thousand Lordaeron soldiers along with a few hundred dwarves from nearby Dun Garok.


He had expected to arrive at Southshore, maybe clean up a few undead bands and insane cultists and then march north in order to clear out the mountain passes and then strike at the heart of Scourge held lands.


What he had found instead was this pathetically grateful -and drunk, lets not forget drunk- Lordaeron officer that fell over himself to hand over overall command, a grim faced dwarf and as his scouts reported an undead army three or maybe more times larger than his own. The undead had already passed the river and were massing to march southward, rank upon rank of zombies,ghouls and even worse, the multitudes stretching from one horizon to the other, an unbroken ocean of putrid creatures.


Defense was not a real option. The Scourge force was so vast that if he were to close himself in this, admittedly well stocked keep, they had more than enough to coral his army here, while a still large force fell on the undefended Arathi Basin. The civilian casualties would be horrific, Stromguard itself besieged or shacked, the birthplace of humanity defiled and all those corpses in the service of these cultists.


He had to attack here, maybe force them back over the river, do enough damage and kill enough leaders for them to lose cohesion and maybe be defeated in detail. It was a good enough place to try this at any case. Durnolde keep and the mountains would supply an insurmountable obstacle to the North, Eastpoint Tower a perfect rallying point for the mid while the lake would anchor the South.


Messengers had already been sent south, calling for help from New Stormwind and Ironforge and ordering a portion of the forces watching the Horde North. The only good piece of news was that no new undead mobs were pouring down from the passes. Maybe the Alteraci were not completely useless? One could hope.


Thoras shook off his idle musings and turned to his subordinates and allies. He would have more than enough time to investigate after the battle was won.


"Alright my friends. This is what we will do..."


Alliance Command Post,Eastpoint Tower, Kingdom of Lordaeron​


Thoras Trollbane stood on the summit of Eastpoint Tower, the checkpoint that controlled the way to and from Arathi, looking over an ocean of anxious faces. He had done this more times that he cared admit but the feeling of anxiety, the crushing weight of responsibility never got any lighter. Once more he was leading his men to battle, this time not against a foe of flesh and blood, Trolls, Orcs or ogres but pale mockeries of life, freshly risen corpses and abominations powered by fell magic, a foe that likely knew no fear, no pity or mercy.


"Men of the Alliance!" he bellowed, waiting for the general murmur to die down,"Men of Stromguard, Men of Lordaeron and our noble dwarven allies! Once again an impeccable foe is knocking on our gates! Once again the blood of innocents is shed with no reason or purpose! In times before memory it was Trolls seeking to end us all, to drag us to their feasting pits, to slaughter and bloody sacrifice! Yesterday it was the Orcs and their Ogre and Goblin slaves that sought to enslave us, to erase humanity off the face of Azeroth forever!"


Thoras pointed at the visible swarms in the distance, the unbroken ranks of slavering, misshapen creatures that we once human, some of them kin and loved ones of the gathered host, now forced to march against them.


"Now a new, even more terrible foe arises! Look at them! Traitors to humanity and demons, necromancers and warlocks raised the honored dead and march upon us, seeking the death of everything, the eternal damnation and servitude of our bodies and souls! Lordaeron is sorely pressed, Alterac is overrun and now it falls to us to stop these creatures here, to keep them out of Arathi, birthplace of humanity, away from Khaz Modan, from our homes and loved ones! What say you brave men of the alliance? Will you allow those soulless beasts have their way? Will you let them snuff out the history of millenia? Will you let them make eternal slaves out of everyone?"


There was silence for a moment before a roar from the gathered hosts reached the heavens.


"DEATH TO THE TRAITORS OF HUMANITY!"


"SWORD AND FIRE TO THE UNDEAD FILTH!"


"FOR THE ALLIANCE!"


"LONG LIVE THE KING! LONG LIVE THORAS TROLLBANE!"


Thousands of weapons were raised in the sky, thousands of oaths were made to the gods and the light as the shout was taken by everyone present, all hesitation, all fear forgotten as everyone took to heart the words of the King.


Thoras nodded in satisfaction as men begun taking their spots in the line of battle, officers of every stripe shouting orders and sergeants literally beating the soldiers in proper formation.


Dwarven sharpshooters and human bowmen begun marching to the front, followed close behind by the mob of the militia, men drafted as the army marched from Stromguard City to the north from the farms and villages dotting the countryside, from the refugee shantytown around Durnholde keep, armed with hewing axes and iron plated shields, men that had lost everything to the marching undead.


Cavalry, the prized knights of Stromguard scrambled to cover the flanks while footmen, the iron core of every alliance army , heavily armed with massive swords and shields and armored in iron and steel plate formed up right behind the militia mob, the anvil where every foe would break.


Paladins, priests and what few mages were with the army dotted the uniform lines of soldiery while dwarven mortar teams brought up the rear, always ready to rain fire and destruction upon any enemy. Last but not least a small contingent of Griffon riders could be seen darting in and out of the clouds overhead, hammers at the ready.


The stage was set and the largest battle in the continent since the end of the Second war was about to begin.



​
AN: I may have bitten a bit more than I can chew here... I am planning 2 more parts in hopes of mitigating the Scourge curbstomping but I am not optimistic. I guess a sudden cold can ruin even the best plans.
 
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OMAKE​

Battle of Eastpoint​


Part 2​


The Alliance Army advanced slowly, its final formation taking shape. The troops of Lordaeron held the right, led by Lieutenant General Aedelas Blackmoore, with Durnholde Keep strongly garrisoned, dwarf riflemen and mages reinforcing the vital structure and company size detachments covering the small distance to the mountains and the center.

The left was where the great militia mob gathered, led by Captain Ironhill Thane of Dun Garok, reinforced by hundreds of heavily armed and armored dwarven fighters that would supply the practically unarmored troops with a solid core of heavy troops and some mages and paladins.


The center was where the main body of the Stromguard infantry gathered, rank upon rank of heavily armed and armored footmen, many of them veterans of the Second war and practically every single one of them an experienced fighter from the constant border skirmishes with the Trolls and Ogres that infested Arathi.


Several squadrons of knights, often led by paladins were trotting back and fro behind the main line, platoons of riflemen were spreading out in front of the infantry line while several mortars were already making ranging shots.


Right opposite this gathering of martial might, were ranks upon ranks of undead, hordes upon hordes of the misshapen, drooling creatures milling about on both sides of the river. Zombies and Ghouls made up the bulk of the sea of undead, while the ogre like forms of leaking and hurriedly stitched together Abominations could be seen in clumps on various positions. Necromancers, draped with skeletal fetishes and wreathed in black green flame were riding herd over the gargantuan concentrations, their fell presence filling the creatures around them with even more vigor.


More worrying were certain areas in various locations that were shrouded in darkness and gloom, the rays of the rising sun failing to penetrate the obscuring smog and magic.


As the distance between the two armies lessened and the first mortar shells started landing on the massed undead ranks, great clamps of undead broke in to an uneven, ground eating shambling charge. Zombies and Ghouls run forward, the air filled with their inarticulate gibbering, while clumps of waddling Abominations followed close behind, hook studded hands clenching and unclenching, their mad, childlike giggling providing a disturbing counterpoint to their shambling lessers.


The riflemen opened fire by platoon, felling dozens of the lesser undead, their deadly bullets punching fist sized holes in the putrid, reanimated flesh, while the mortars blasted gaping wounds in the undead ranks, wounds that were quickly filled with even more fell creatures. Next came the mages, as fire, ice and arcane spells wrecked untold havoc upon the advancing Scourge ranks. Zombies were immolated, Ghouls reduced to gory chunks of flesh and Abominations were frozen solid but the undead kept advancing, caring naught for casualties of wounds in their eagerness to come to grips with the living soldiery.


Their job done for the moment the ranged units retreated behind the slowly advancing lines of infantry and the mortar teams sought targets further back to avoid hitting friendly targets.


There was an earth shaking impact as the ocean of undead flesh run head first in the massed ranks of the allied infantry. Furious melee erupted all along the left flank, as furious militiamen started hacking away at the undead with their axes, Thane Ironhill laying about him with rune hammer and war axe, limbs and bisected bodies filling the ground around him with every strike.


In stark contrast to the swirling melee of the left, the center was more a case of a nearly unstoppable force meeting an immovable object. The screaming, chittering mass of lesser undead smashed right in to the allied shield wall, failed to achieve any sort of breakthrough and recoiled as the ranks of footmen started hacking them down like wheat before the thresher. Undead rubbery flesh, unnatural fell strength and resilience; reinforced tooth and claw met discipline, heavy armor and sharp steel and came out the lesser. Dozens of undead were falling with every passing moment while here and there an unlucky footman would be dragged away despite the furious efforts of his fellows to protect him.


The battle kept on that tempo for nearly half an hour, screeching undead throwing themselves at the allied ranks, mortar shells raining with clockwork timing on their rear, before the scourge pressure lessened, not because of any hesitation from the undead but because a veritable wall of bodies was stacked in from of the allied shield wall, making any effort to reach the footmen formations problematic at best.


It was then, when the undead opposite the center attempted to reform their milling ranks and the furious melee continued unabated at the left flank that the ranks of footmen parted, allowing squadrons of heavy horse to charge right in to the middle of the undead, proud knights and paladins in wedge formation crashing with devastating results deep in to the reeling undead ranks, great swords and hammers reaping a fearsome toll on the unclean creatures.


Any mortal enemy should have been broken. Orcs mad with bloodlust, trolls in the throes of religious ecstasy, Ogres in magic induced frenzy had broken in past battles, but the enemy facing the allied troops this day was no mere flesh and blood. Ever so slowly the initial charge stalled as the press of putrid bodies became too much, spooked horses unfamiliar with the stench of undeath sought to run away and furiously hacking knights begun to be dragged down to the slavering jaws of the awaiting Ghouls.


Trumpets sounded and the cavalry wedges begun to untangle themselves from the melee as footmen shoved aside the barricade of bodies and begun advancing, closing ranks as the last of the knights got out of the press and the shield wall reformed, denying the furious undead their prey.


It was then, when the lines were still hopelessly jumbled and confused that the undead mages and artillery decided to strike.


From all over the front, shadow bolts struck, stripping unlucky soldiers from their flesh, showers of green meteors battered various points of the line burning and crashing undead and human alike and great war machines, bizarre amalgamations of catapults and butcher carts rolled out of the obscuring haze lobbing acidic pieces of bodies and other putrid substances on the allied ranks. Flesh darkened and withered where the projectiles fell and soon cracks developed in the embattled footmen shield wall.


Cracks that fresh clamps of abominations took full advantage, bulldozing their way past the front lines and striking at the rear ranks of the allied heavy infantry. To make matters worse, dozens of banshees chose that exact time to materialize all along the wavering lines, their shrieks shattering them further as men dropped dead on the spot or tried to run away in terror.


***


King Thoras dodged a wicked hook and with an almost elegant slash of his very well enchanted sword disemboweled the raging abomination, letting his sweating bodyguards finish off the toppling creature. One crack closed yet dozens were still gaping and getting worse. He dispersed a shrieking banshee with yet another slash and in the momentary lull begun bellowing orders to the trailing heralds and messengers.


The day was long and likely to get longer but he still had to play his hand. The battle was wavering on a razor's edge but it could be won.


He would make certain of it.


***​




Trumpets blared and the panic slowly subsided as dwarven riflemen started mass firing on every enemy caster in sight, the reordered cavalry squadrons attacked the abominations enmasse, paladins and priests begun dispersing the specters and carefully hoarded reserves pushed forward closing up the gaps.


Mages and mortars begun countering the Meat wagons and managed to lessen their impact.


The scourge responded by sending even more lesser undead in to the melee, their ranks being continually reinforced by the bridge fording the river, allowing the multitudes to pass unmolested and trickles kept making their way across in various points despite the river current carrying many of the creatures to their doom.


Great flights of gray skinned Gargoyles took flight as the Scourge kept pressing, only to be met in the air by hammer totting dwarven gryphon riders, a deadly ballet starting between the embattles flyers as rune empowered lightning bolts stunned and charred grey flesh and stone hard talons sought to rent the furious griffons to pieces. Bits and pieces of griffon and gargoyle started raining down, crushing anyone unfortunate enough to be at the impact point.


Durnholde Keep beat off a daring undead attack, lordaeron soldiers cheering at the sight of the fleeing and broken undead, Aedelas Blackmoore first among them.It was a hard fought and costly victory in a day filled with such but it did go a long way to restore morale in the bigger kingdom troops.


The sun was well past its Zenith and slowly sinking in the west when Thoras Trollbane decided to employ his carefully hoarded ace.



***​


"Send out the signal!" the King ordered as yet another Ghoul fell to his blade. " It is time! All forces advance! It is time to show these undead scum that they are no match for our steel! Throw them back men of the Alliance! Throw them back in to the river!"


Trumpets blared and flares arched in to the sky catching the attention of friend and foe alike.


"ADVANCE! FOR THE ALLIANCE!"


***​


As the signal went out all allies reserves were thrown in to the fight.


The center begun pushing back the flailing undead, gaining ground a blood soaked inch at a time, slaying the frenzied undead in great numbers and accepting the resulting casualties with grim determination. Paladins and Priests as one called upon the light and mocking their necromancer counterparts cast the greater spell available to them. Dozens of the slain were raised and healed in a single glorious instance, badly draining the casters but adding a badly needed boost in morale and manpower to the advancing lines but the real hammer blow came to the badly flagging left flank.


The sorely pressed militia was slowly pushed back despite the furious efforts of Thane Ironhill to hold the line, despite the dwarves downing 5 undead for every one of their fallen. They had fought and held magnificently for most of the day but the practically unarmored militia was at the end of its rope, its ranks badly depleted, the remaining men exhausted fighting an untiring and impeccable enemy.


When the signal came, all remaining mortars shifted aim and started pounding the undead ranks facing the left, staggering them and then the mages expended the last of their reserves obliterating hundreds of undead in a fierce display of arcane might.


That gave the chance for the militia to open its haphazard ranks and allow one thousand knights to charge, a full half of the Stromguard cavalry fresh and hoarded for this exact moment. A solid wall of barded horseflesh hit the undead ranks like an avalanche, scything right through them, the enraged horses trampling every unnatural creature in sight. The charge covered a full half of the distance to the river before it even begun slowing down, but even then they pressed on, plunging deep in the collapsing scourge ranks, hammers crushing, iron shod hooves obliterating everything around, great teeth tearing chunks of mortifying flesh from the unnatural creatures they faced.


The center was not far behind; their stately advance no less deadly no less impeccable, reaching the halfway mark as well.


It was as the battle was turning and the undead were being just a few hundred meters from being thrown in to the river when they struck.


Out of the concealing gloom they came, dozens of black armored pale forms, riding skeletal mounts with green flames for eyes and armed with great rune blades.


As one they countercharged the struggling allied cavalry and the advancing footmen lines, great blades reaping a fearsome toll on the spent troops. The battle turned back in to a quagmire, a morass greedily swallowing man and beast as the newly arrived Death knights restored the balance with their rune blades and fell magic, turning whole areas in death filled voids, summoning skeletons out of thin air and even pushing the line back in places. The spent paladins and knights did what they could to counter them but they were spent after a full day of fighting.


Still they were close, so very close...


***​


Thoras wiped the blood and grime from his brow, pulling his sword from the carcass of one of these newly arrived Death knights. They could be killed after all but this one in particular had managed to give him what he suspected was a permanent scar. A few more inches and he would have had his eye as well.


He quickly surveyed the battlefield.


The cavalry to the left was almost at the river but they were all but spent, the center was almost locked in place trading dead for undead filth in a rate that was not acceptable , the casters were spent, the riflemen were reduced to wielding their rifles as clubs and the mortars were so hot from overuse that many were cracked right down the middle. It was a testament of Dwarven engineering that none had blown up but they were no going to be firing any time soon.


He had nothing more to throw in to this fight. Everyone was fighting, pushing for just a few more inches of ground. Even the wounded were crawling with swords and knives in hand, eager to strike at least one last blow but even that was not enough...


He was forcefully drawn out of his thoughts as a young man in the livery of a herald pushed his way to him.


"You Majesty! Please your majesty you must hear me before it's too late! D-Disaster you majesty, please-"


Fighting down the bile, King Thoras slapped the hysterical herald. "Calm down! Calm down damn you! What happened? Tell me!"


"Durnholde keep sire" said the young man in the monotone voice of the truly gone "When the General saw the army advance ordered the men to sally forth. He- He was drunk you majesty! He would not listen to anyone! He screamed that yours would not be glory alone your majesty! He took almost all the guards and fell on the undead of the flank. They broke. But it was a trap your Majesty. Once the garrison was almost at the river, spiders the size of horses burst out in the inner courtyard. They were led by a Giant beetle your majesty and undead surged forth in vast numbers. We could not hold them sire. Durnholde keep will soon fall if it has not fallen already..."


He felt the icy grip of dread clutch his heart. If Durnholde keep fell-


"You! Sound the retreat damn it! Do it now. Right now!"


He ignored the baffled looks of the trumpeters and heralds, him mind working furiously. If they slowed for even a moment they would be surrounded with their backs to the sea and then...


No the thought was not even worth thinking.



***​


The allied troops gaped in disbelief as the new signal blared mournfully across the battlefield.


They gaped but were quick to respond, redressing their lines and starting a slow but sure footed retreat.


It should not come as a surprise that they managed to retreat in good order.


Many a battle of the second war were bloody day long affairs, Horde and Alliance troops grinding each other in horrifying battles of attrition only for the side with the fewest men on the field to be forced to retreat.


It did not reduce the heartache, as the remnants of the allied army retreated back, to the imposing ruin of Thoradin's wall.


It was the Scourge that held the field as the last rays of the sun fell on Eastpoint. They held the field and the rich bloody bounty it contained...

AN: /swirly eyed
 
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OMAKE​


Part 3​


Attack on Thoradin's Wall​


Thoradin's Wall.


A huge monument to the ancient Arathi empire, its protector for millenia against the Troll empires of yore and many other dangers besides. A wall that stretched for miles effectively protecting the heartland of the former empire against any threat coming from the north.


A protector that had fallen in disrepair under the weight of millennia of neglect, nearly forgotten, a part of the landscape as unchanging as the mountains. Until now.


It was a sorry sight, the Alliance army that retreated there a week earlier. Exhausted men, many of them walking wounded, hurried by undead every step of the way, they were able to beat back the scourge skirmishers only thanks to the fresh troops that were stationed there for that exact reason.


The casualties had been horrific. A full third of the footmen, their discipline and armor saving them from much worse, two thirds of the militia, most of them fallen during the furious combat and more falling to the undead harassers, three quarters of the cavalry, a force used both in the battle and afterwards in a bloody attempt to stem the undead tide and prevent disastrous encirclement, the entire Lordaeron contingent, cut off and presumably cut down to a man and the list went on and on.


Days of furious activity followed, the specter of a renewed undead attack casting its oppressive shadow over everything. An attack that strangely enough did not come.


The woods on both sides of the wall were striped as the frantic alliance army scrambled for materials and the great gaps in the wall were filled with hastily built barricades, watchtower were erected, palisades to allow the troops to patrol and man it and more.


In the following week reinforcements arrived as Stromguard troops answered the call, the border outposts facing Khaz Modan stripped bare and the forts facing the Horde sucked dry off troops and equipment, more dwarven contingents from the Wildhammer clan astride their prized griffons, militia and workers pressed to service.


Speculation about the reason of the Scourge delay was rampant and wild rumors abounded. We bled them so much that they will never dare attack the Wall the optimists said. They are taking their time raising more corpses and crafting more abominations the pessimists countered. But whatever the reason of the delay, the period of grace was clearly over as the scourge army could be seen from the hastily repaired ramparts, a sea of undead darkening the horizon with their vast numbers.


***​


It was just after the dawn of the seventh day and King Thoras was presiding over his war council when a guard entered the command post. He motioned for the guard to come over, clearly impatient to see what the interruption was all about.


"Well? Spit it out son. What is the emergency?"


"The Undead your majesty" answered the young man " a messenger has approached the wall under a flag of truce and is asking for parley."


The king just stared at the young man, wondering for a moment if this was some sort of joke, before rising from his chair and exiting the command post. He came to the parapet of the massive wall and truly sitting there just outside the effective range of mortar and rifle was one of those newly dubbed Death Knights. He was clad in the black plate of their kind, pale faced, snow haired and riding a skeletal caricature of a warhorse. In his right hand he held the universally accepted flag of truce and in his left a banner depicting a black sword in a field of red.


The king capped his hands and addressed this strange apparition.


"Well? What do you want? I thought walking corpses did not have enough of a mind left to think let alone talk! State your business and then get the hell out of my lawn!"


Laughter erupted from thousands of throats as the warriors lining the wall started cheering for their king and raining abuse on the undead herald, that waited patiently for the commotion to subside. Finally he spoke, his motionless drowning voice carrying disturbingly well.


"Greeting and salutations Thoras Trollbane, leader of Stromguard. The Lich King, my lord and master, bid me bring you the following message.


First he thank you for the great service you offered him. You helped clear out the chaff from his armies, cull the weak while allowing the strong to shine and prove their worth. You offered him a great bounty of fresh recruits of proven value and valor. You proved that humanity is worthy of redemption and the mercy he brings."


Many recoiled at these words and the King himself held on his patience by a mere fingernail. How dare this undead thing-


The creature cocked its head to the side and the subtle green glow of its eyes grew in intensity.


"I assure you King Trollbane that my master speaks only the truth. He does not wish to mock or insult you. You have proven yourself and your people a cut far above the Lordaeron weaklings and the Alteraci traitors. In light of this and to honor your valor my master offers these terms.


Disband your army. Clear the way for the Scourge. Allow his prophets free access to your people.


In return my master guarantees the life and freedom of every living thing in the Kingdom of Stromguard. His patience is infinite and his kingdom unending. All things will join it in time.


Save your people King of Stromguard. Do not shield your enemies. The army you see gathered here, the army you fight so hard and futilely to stop has business with the Horde. Stand aside and either watch as a respected and independent ruler or join us as a honored companion as we scourge the orcs, the trolls and all other lesser races from the face of Azeroth.


What say you King Thoras? Will you step aside and save your people? Or will you seek to resist the inevitable and shield your eternal enemies from their just rewards?"


Silence greeted this declaration for a long moment, every eye on the King, waiting for his decision.


He stood there stone-faced, terrible temptation gripping his heart for a long moment. What did he owe the Horde anyway? Oceans of blood, tens of thousands of dead, untold suffering. Those were the debts owed to them and more. How it would be like if this gargantuan army was unleashed on them? How many debts would be repaind in kind if he allowed the undead to pass through?


But it only lasted a moment.


"Tell your master that Stromguard bows to none creature, be it living or dead. Tell him that this Kingdom has stood for millennia and will last long after he and his twisted kingdom crumbles to dust. Take a good look at this wall creature because it will be the only piece of Stromguard you or any of your ilk will see. Now begone!"


The death knight looked at him for an instance before nodding his head slowly.


"I see. This is an unfortunate turn of events o King, but know this. You and everything else in this world will bow down to the Lich King, in this life or the next."


With this parting shot the death knight spurred his horse back to the Scourge Army and the moment he passed through the first ranks the undead multitudes surged forth and the attack on Thoradin's Wall begun.


***​


Thoras grunted in annoyance as his sword was stuck for a moment in the skull of a zombie and was forced to use a gloved fist to throw the following ghoul over the parapet. He then shielded his face as yet another undead exploded under the thunderous impact of captain Ironhill's hammer, showering him with gore.


"They are not doing it right." Complained the dwarf, ignoring his glare "this is more like digging or hacking down trees damn it."


Indeed they were not doing it right; the king was forced to accept, as he hacked yet another climbing zombie in two. Right after the parley ended, the great sea of undead charged forth, their claws well suited to the task of climbing the great wall without ladder or rope. It might have worked had they done it when the allied army stumbled back here a bled out ruin but as things stood with it bristling with rested and fresh defenders? It was pure slaughter.


Yet the undead kept pressing their charge throughout the morning and well in to noon and a veritable hill of shattered corpes was beginning to form at the bottom of the towering edifice.


Gargoyles were furiously contending the skies with the gryphon riders but the attrition rate was horribly lopsided there as well. the dwarfs were simply too tough, too experienced to be fell by the grey creatures.


All along the wall and watchtowers allied soldiers were hacking the undead to pieces, lighting them on fire, blowing them up and it was only the truly unfortunate or careless that was dragged down every now and then. The only concern was-


"Ha! Don't mind those lad" huffed the dwarf, exploding yet another unfortunate victim with a burst of lightning. " This here wall will not fall to any magic they have. I regret to say it but your ancestors and those snooty elves really did a good job here. Not up to dwarven standards mind you, but no diggers will get behind this nor will those crystals of theirs manage anything but to scorch it."


The king nodded as he absentmindedly kicked yet another ghoul down, keeping an eye at the 5 great green crystals, one larger and four lesser, that the undead were pushing laboriously towards the wall, well outside the range of any human war machine of mage. Said crystals were surrounded by chanting warlocks and necromancers and a nimbus of flickering green flame would leap high from time to time.


Dismissing it from his mind he concentrated on the task at hand. If those scourge lunatics had decided to sacrifice half their army in order to make a corpse ramp big enough for the other half to engage his fighters, then who was he to argue-


That was as far as he got, before daylight was replaced by a green glare and the sky was split in half.


***​


With a final guttural, triumphant chant, the great crystals flared bright green, the chanting warlocks and necromancers consumed in magical, fel flame, the sky was rent giving way to a multihued hellscape, while four great portals opened right in front of the four lesser crystals.


Terrible and fantastic forms began marching out of those portals. Giant four armed women, their eyes burning with green flame and their hair writhing living fire, lesser but still giant axe armed horned horrors, succubae, giant imps and many more.


But all those paled in front of the rain of giant green meteors that started impacting the area in front of Thoradin's Wall, filling it with green fiery craters. A rain that had only one equivalent in living memory. Stormwind.


***​


Thoras gaped for a moment at the impossible sight. Not again. Not here!


"Ancestors damn those cheaters" grumbled his dwarven companion pointing at the titanic infernals climbing out of the crater. "This is not the proper way of doing things! Mortars! Damn you ya lazy buggers! You have targets! Take them down! Now!"


Mortar fire started raining on the giants, staggering a few, but did little to keep them from swinging their burning fists at the wall... Which against every expectation held! Well the original portions held. Gigantic breaches were opened in those portions that had been hastily reconstructed, sending dozens of men falling to their doom.


Thoras turned to scream for his mages to do something, anything only to stop at he say them, all of them gathered in a circle, chanting hurriedly as the wall shuddered for the infernal hammer blows.


Much speculation followed the fall of Stormwind and the nature of the gigantic attack. Some sort of mass summoning reasoned scholars and mages. And all towers began projects on how to counteract such a thing happening again. What the king saw now was the product of the Tower of Stromguard city. A great disk of blue luminous energy formed, devouring some of the mages that tried to control it and was fired like a cannonball.


It hit the greatest of the green pillars straight on... And after a moment the great pillar crumpled to dust, the rent in the sky slowly shrinking and closing... Leaving behind a score of pissed off masses of green rock and fire and the lesser portals intact.


"Give the signal light damn you" roared the king to the trailing heralds." Summon the reserves! Have the close the breaches or we are lost!"


Trumpets blew and from camps built behind the great wall burst companies of men, rushing to the breaches that even now were attacked by all manner of undead and infernals.


***​


It was much later that night that King Thoras made his final decision.


They had held. Somehow they had held.


The Infernals had finally been snuffed out, every great beast taking scores of men to put down, the undead beat back but the cost...


His army was a ruin. The dead and the dying filled the breaches, marking the spots that the defenders payed dearly for just another day, most of the living were walking wounded and everyone was so exhausted, so bone weary that fully armed and armored men were falling asleep with their eyes open.


And in the distance he could see the strange creatures summoned from the portals forming up, block upon block of demonic flesh, bringing the undead to heel, as the shambling creatures had lost all cohesion with the death of so many of their handlers during the summonings.


He could see batteries of cannons being readied by strange shambling creatures, half demon, half machine and so much more.



He sighed touching his ruin of a left arm. Yet another souvenir of a day filled with death.


With great effort he pulled off his signet ring and handed it to his personal page, a young man barely in his teens.


"Listen my boy and listen well. You are to leave with the caravan of dispatches to Stromguard. Give this to my son. Tell him to ready the city for a siege. Tell him to make certain the people are evacuated to Khaz Modan or Stormwind or even the Hinterlands. Tell him that he has my blessings and full authority."


"B-but your majesty." his page objected " We beat them back! Reinforcements from Ironforge and Stormwind could be coming at any time. Why not retreat to Stromguard or the Hinterlands? Even the Horde-" he paled at the glare of his sovereign-


"Retreat and go where boy?" growled the maimed king. " Look at them. If they catch us in the open we will be butchered like sheep. At least here we have a fighting chance. We may even hold on for a few more days. As for reinforcements? If they come they will come, though I very much doubt they will reach us in time to do anything even if they are already on their way. As for the Horde... Well my son has my full authority and will be king soon enough I suppose. If he sees fit to beg those beasts for assistance... That is his choice and his alone. Now leave me. Go."


The page stumbled out lingering just long enough to steal one last glance at his king.


"Were you not a wee bit too harsh on the lad" asked his dwarven fighting companion, puffing a ring of smoke from his pipe "What he said made a bit of sense after all?"


"Sense? I suppose it did" admitted the king " But I am old my friend. Old enough to choose where and when I will die. Old enough to be set in my ways. I don't care if they call old Lothar their war chief. I will never beg those beasts for help. Too much blood I have shed. Too many friends have I lost. If this is to be my final battle then so be it. I have no regrets. I have fought to the best of my ability. I will shed the last drop of my blood for my people. That will have to be enough."


"Hah! I like you human." guffawed the dwarf and raised his mug." to one last glorious battle then!"


"To one last glorious battle."


AN: And done.
 
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The Horde need either an Omake or a Fate point. We can't let the Burning Legion get to the Dark Portal.

Maybe an Omake where Thrall stalemate them by destroying the rebuilt bridge with his bullshit Super Shamanism ? He can call earthquake on demand after all.
 
All righty, one more fate point thanks to that long omake! And the Horde begin fighting soon.

On a different note, people don't seem to be voting. Don't like the format I'm guessing?
 
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