Krypta priestess voice: "At last...."
The last few days of the journey passed uneventfully, your passage across Tirisfal becoming less cautious as your group moved farther East. As you moved farther away from the ruined capital and the Undercity of the Forsaken, the Tirasians seemed far less dour than before, even joking at times to lighten the mood when it became to oppressive. You still remained somewhat separate, however, since you still weren't wholly ready to count yourself among these people. (A decision Michael lauded)
But there also came a change to the landscape. The ground, previously black and quite ashen in the heartland of Tirisfal, grew harder, denser and more moist with infrequent rain. The soil itself grew pale, and the sky became increasingly overcast by oily-looking clouds that moved almost viscously across the sky. The Plague had struck harder in the East, and it was very clear.
What struck you most, however, was how used the roads seemed. The cobblestone paths seemed well-maintained given the surroundings, and there were lanterns at regular points along them. You hadn't expected a horde of undead monstrosities and abominations against nature - or as the Argent Dawn called them, allies, according to the Tirasians - to use roads at all, let alone keep the existing ones in such good condition. You had to give them credit for their grasp of supply lines.
You took the opportunity to consider the single greatest obstacle to your entry into the Plaguelands: the Bulwark. A joint effort by the Forsaken and the Argent Dawn to prevent Scourge incursions further West, it also technically formed the border of all Scarlet operations according to the Silver Concord between the Crusade for Lordaeron and the Undercity. Under the rules placed in the treaty, the Scarlet Monastery was a violation of the Forsakens' sovereignty, and was exempt from any privilege of reinforcement or resupply. Thus, the presence of the Crusaders in Tirisfal was technically breaking those terms. But they, and you to an extent, considered any "sovereignty" held by walking corpses to be suspect at best.
The Bulwark would be heavily guarded, though it was little more than a palisade spanning the West King's Road, between two ranges of tall hills. If your group was found trying to circumvent it, it would likely lead to a breakdown of the treaty, and more immediately the destruction of all found in violation, likely including yourself. You didn't hold your life to be more important than those of your compatriots; far from it. However, dying was quite uncomfortable, and once was quite enough death for a very long time in your humble opinion. Unless the Almighty planned for it, anyway, given that all things were as He willed them. That would take it out of your hands. But you doubted that He would plan for you to die here so soon.
If only the Saints were able to speak more often. Since your arrival, they had been able to contact you more frequently and directly, but only slightly so. Now, they no longer needed you to be in hearing distance of church bells, which was convenient (you still regretted that time you had experimented with the idea that the closer you were to the bell, the longer you could speak with them. You had been functionally deaf for hours afterward), but they needed to devote most of thir newfound potency to preventing incursions like the one you had experienced in the forest.
You only broke from your reverie when one of the soldiers came over, and said that Phillipus wanted to speak with you on the next ridge.
"-rge are assaulting the place in these numbers? This is irregular, at best. They must know something we don't. That's the only explanation." Phillipus was standing atop the hill, looking down at something in the vale below. A cursory glance revealed that this… camp, was the Bulwark. How the meager defenses had held for this long was a mystery now that you could see them properly. The sharpened logs were rotting from exposure, and there seemed to be only a minimum garrison on duty.
"What is it, Phillipus?" He started slightly at your voice, but calmed admirably quickly.
"There's been a complication. In the last hour, there have been four attacks by the Scourge against the Bulwark." He gestured down to the collection of tents below. "The last occurred only ten minutes ago." Looking closer, you could see piles of grey corpses being burned off to one side.
"I assume this is unusual in some way?" In response, Phillipus nodded vigorously.
"Indeed, but it isn't the attacks themselves. It's the sheer volume of each wave." He leaned against a nearby tree. "There are always reports of Scourge attacks on the Forsaken. It comes with the Plaguelands. However, those attacks are about a third as strong as these at most!" He swept his arm toward the pass. "And so many attacks in such a short time… I can't imagine what pushed them to such lengths."
What, indeed. From what little you had gathered about patterns in Scourge movements (rare as they were), it was that they acted much like a living army, but with no care for losses or damage. The dead had the advantage of being completely immune to pain and fear, and the living were adept enough in dark magic to not need to be present at the front. Often, the only way to break the horde was to kill the necromancer, but they were often placed where only rifles or bows could strike. But at their core, their commanders had goals, and used the army to carry them out. For such an effort to be aimed solely at breaking the Bulwark was disturbing, especially in light of what you had just heard.
"You think we should still take your side route?" You were watching the camp more closely now. It seemed undermanned for such an important position, particularly with its reputation.
"With the Scourge now present in the picture?" Phillipus scoffed. "No question. In fact, we may want to be even more cautious." He looked down at the Bulwark again, and his eyes widened. Pulling out a spyglass, he stared slackjawed at something below. "By the Light, what are they doing?" Well, that sounded ominous. Seizing the spyglass from the limp hand of your compatriot, you looked down. You immediately understood his reaction.
A number of soldiers in the colors of the Scarlet Crusade were in the midst of the latest skirmish, dealing blows to both Scourge and Forsaken. One in particular, a mountain of a man with grey hair and a hammer taller than you were, was casting Light about himself in auras and incantations of healing. Others threw rings of crimson light out like discs, trapping some and repelling others.
This couldn't possibly be allowed under the Concord.
"One of those 'paladins' I've heard about?" It was uncanny. The same Light you had displayed, focused and magnified into something far greater than its base form. And this was the power of an average paladin? It didn't seem possible. And yet there it was, plain as day. It was engrossing.
So much so that you almost didn't see them. Coming over the ridge just to the South, a party of deathguards about twenty strong was rushing towards the Bulwark.
One was only a few feet away.
Suddenly thankful for the tall grass that had sprung up on the hill, you bit back a short litany of curses that surely would have cost you a few extra prayers. Phillipus seemed to be playing dead and just lay there like a slug. One of the deathguards stopped briefly and nudged the sea-preist, but shrugged it off and continued on his way a moment later. Two more patrols passed in short order, the total reinforcement numbering almost fifty soldiers.
"We need to do something." Phillipus was almost hissing. "I don't care what happens with the Bulwark, and the rest will probably agree. But we need to help our fellows out of there!"
"And what makes this group so important?" Something was up. He sighed.
"That's Sir Morlune, miss." He only looked more determined. "Those are my countrymen down there." Well then. That explained it.
Thus, you gathered the Tirasians, and planned to….
[] Attack from the ridge. There was no time for maneuvers or sneak attacks. The Forsaken and Scourge outnumbered your would-be comrades, and you weren't about to fail yet. (Write-in plan specifics optional)
[] Circled around, and reinforced Morlune and his Crusaders from the East. Their prowess and strength in the Light would likely hold long enough for you to sneak past the Bulwark. (Write-in plan specifics optional)
[] Do nothing.
[] Write in
You: Jeanne d'Arc, 8 footmen, two riflemen, three Sea-priests
Scarlet Crusade: Morlune the Mighty, 100 remaining
Forsaken Garrison: ???, 80 remaining, 50 incoming
Undead Scourge: ???, 250 remaining, reinforcements unknown
Sorry about the wait, everybody. Things got hectic for a while.
