I agree on the Uther storming off thing completely. As for Jaina and him staying, I dunno what I'd do after that yet but it sure sounds neat.Angelform said:
As for Muradin, did you know he actually liked visiting Northrend, like, a lot? He was leading expeditions there all the dang time. It was the last one that went sour. That is an interesting idea though, that they were being kept as back-ups. At the same time, we all know that there are more to each race than what unit was represented in WC3, so he wouldn't have just been running in with riflement and mortar teams, it was a whole dang group'a dwarves from Ironforge/Aerie Peak with more dedicated melee units than just himself.
Beyogi
and a fairy
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Sounds interesting, but wouldn't that mean the Orcs under his command simply got slaughtered by the nightelves? They have this truly elvish arrogance after all.torroar said:
When was this again? What effects would it have had anyway?
That's interesting indeed. It would change a lot, but I'm not sure if it would be enough to save Lordaeron.
Reminds me of a crossover where George Weasley gets dropped into the Starcraft world during the original summoning of Archimonde.
The problem here is that it is going to be a guerilla war that he's bound to lose. Not sure if you want to write a tragedy of last stands. Arthas really wants Uther dead after all. He'd need a miracle to do anything against the scourge. Unless he manages to summon an army of Naru I don't think how this could work.
"You're insane girl." Well, Warcraft Canon predicts that that would be the doom of Azeroth.
I guess that would be an interesting beginning, but it mostly depends on what they do afterwards.
Well that would be interesting indeed. A lot more diplomacy, less trouble and an edge in keeping the legion out of Kalimdor.
I don't think that would work. The scourge are demonic minions after all, so why would they clash with demons. Especially in RoC where the Lich King is firmly under control of the Legion.
That might be interesting. Especially if you combine it with the Jaina stays thing. I wonder what Medivh would do in that case.
And takes up Frostmourne?
So the people from the western continent would meet fully battle ready nightelves that actually have their leadership ready. This might actually work out better. Tyrande doesn't seem that dogmatic, Illidan was always the most rational of the bunch and with the druids awake they're not going to cry their eyes out because orcs needed some wood.
Some of these are interesting. With others I'm not sure how they'd work. Others were kinda meh.
Anyway, I hope you finish this story before you begin the next.
Beyogi said:
Oh I will finish this story, don't worry. I just can't set down a large chunk of time to write them yet what with finals. I don't know how to do that bit by bit quote thing. So. In order:
Anyway, the plan with Grom refusing was him having to retreat, leaving the night elves 'victorious', to have Thrall and Jaina come and try to rescue him at the Prophet's blabbing, and it is there that Cenarius see's the rest of the Horde and how the humans work along side them, sort of getting through the whole "ah, they have demon taint in their veins, they are clearly scouts of the Legion" thing.
Kael'thas and the boats was in Frozen Throne. He had to accept Naga help/boats which brought up suspicions by his racist commander, and then got help again later, which was the straw that broke the camels back. Basically, Kael would have less reason to trust the Naga, and would likely not get thrown in the Dalaran Jails, flee to Outland, etc. and instead stay on Azeroth. Maybe.
I don't think he would, but the point isn't saving the Kingdom, it's seeing how Arthas tries to be King. And other things. It was a random idea anyway.
A fic where George does wat?
As for the Guerilla War bit, I don't think so, not really. Numerous groups have proven that against all odds that they can survive against the Scourge, Scarlet Crusade, Argent Dawn/Crusade, Tirion alone by himself, different groups of forest trolls, bandits, the various groups of humans that survived to get pressganged into service by any of those groupse I mentioned. Besides, no matter how much he wants to, Tichondrius and the need for Kel'Thuzad's rebirth are going to take precedence from his bosses both Lich King and Legion regardless of how he whines. Then, well they've got a schedule to keep, and Arthas keeps ranting about Uther, but no we have to go talk to and then summon Archimonde, and then the Natherzim get control over the Scourge, so Arthas is free to try and hunt him down but with severely reduced forces as everyone else is off west to battle the night elves.
Ah, but this is the world of fanfiction, where we could see if Jaina could rally the human nations to fight back instead of stay back, like with Kul Tiras and their apparently uber army from Frozen Throne's bonus campaign and her dad, to Gilneas behind their walls, to Stromgarde who just declined in the background originally. Doom and gloom says canon, maybe not says the fanfic author!
That was the general thrust of it, for the orc thing.
Actually, the Blackrocks refused to surrender to the undead, believing that there could only be one
But if Jaina stayed, and Thrall stayed, then that would be neat, I think.
Uther might take up Frostmourne, he might not, I dunno.
But yeah, I actually think that if the Night Elves were on full war-footing and scouting the land and what not as the Satyrs made their play, feeling demons coming a la Grom, they might find the humans and orcs as they land before they get around to doing stuff and then I sort of ran out of thinking steam.
Not as if the Horde were that much better. The Tauren to be sure, but the rest, not so much. The NE went to alliance cause the Orcs are on the same continent, and they are probably the worst eco friendly of the bunch. The dwarves and gnomes hide in their mountains so they barely do anything above ground of note. And the Humans don't do mass logging on near the scale of orcs.
Huh. Those are some pretty good points, King. I suppose that's true. Ah well, it's not like that's going to come up in this story or any of the others that I may write later.GhostKing 666 said:
Nah, you're right. I still think they could have all been Cenarion Circle-y, but, in the end it all comes down to, like you said, super powers in the world sense.GhostKing 666 said:
Beyogi
and a fairy
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Yeah...Kavris said:
On the other hand I have a hard time seeing the old gods as badguys. I mean they're really just victims of a hostile terraforming by more powerful alien entities (Titans). If I was them, I'd try to recover my homeworld too.
I mean seriously how big an asshole do you have to be to decide that another race's world would make the perfect breeding ground for your little experiments.
Beyogi
and a fairy
- Pronouns
- She/Her
What species are actually there that existed before the Titans? The Naaru? Or the Nathrezim?Kavris said:
I'm not sure what I'm supposed to think about the Naaru and I wouldn't take the Nathrezim as a believable source anyway.
I don't have a problem seeing them as kind of complete soul eating planet destroying civilization hating monsters. because that's what they are. They loved destruction and constant anarchy. furthermore there's more than just the ones on Azeroth there plenty actually out there in the twisting nether is well and they kind of activity in tropic forth across the universe and the Titans really didn't prefer that instead they impose border and built things. I have a hard time seeing people who eat souls in the minds of the living as not being bad guys >.>
Earthen became dwarves, mechagnomes became regular gnomes, vykrul were iron then flesh and their deformed ugly children were dumped out and became humans. Night elves were a group of shadow trolls that settled near the well of eternity. But yeah the old gods inflicted the curse of flesh just so that they could corrupt and eat the victims. That's kinda bad guy ish to me.
Beyogi
and a fairy
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Wait. I always thought Azeroth was a really alien world before the Titans arrived and terraformed it. I figured all the races on Azeroth were basically more or less their creations. With dwarfs and gnomes and maybe Vrykul being corrupted constructs. And trolls, the nightelve subraces (dryads, etc), Tauren, Pandaren and these sphinx thingies being the Titan's direct creations.Kavris said:
How is it possible that there is viable offspring between humans (a degenerated version of curse of flesh affected constructs) and elves (mana-mutated trolls) anyway?
Did they retcon the whole backstory again to get some plot for new dungeons?
I'm on my phone and signal is weak, but I can answer the breeding question: magic! Specifically the well of eternity scale magic, azeroths OG magic source in terms of age and power. The night elves are utterly divorced from trolls from an eternity (heh) of magical influence from the well and breeding amongst the.selves. as far as we know regular trolls could breed with humans.
As to what azeroth was and all that, I can't check very easily.
As to what azeroth was and all that, I can't check very easily.
I should note that the Emerald Nightmare didn't really pop up until after the Burning Legion was defeated. Prior to that point, the druids woke up with regularity to do stuff, as referenced in ROC. It had been ten thousand years since the War of the Ancients, but only a thousand since Malfurion last looked upon Tyrande. This implies that they woke up normally do to stuff every thousand or so. The whole Nightmare thing didn't seem to start until after the night elves lost the protection of Nordrassil and tried to make Teldrassil, within which was a branch of the Nightmare Lord grafted to it's innards during it's creation which is what really got the Nightmare spreading throughout the Emerald Dream as the druids tried to go back to what they had been doing before which was no longer a viable thing to do. But it's not like they knew that at the time of course.
He was empowered by N'Zoth, N'Zoth didn't do anything personally. But he was a pretty powerful patsy. It was his Old God empowered branch that ended up corrupting Teldrassil, growing the Nightmare into a powerful enough force to corrupt Ysera's, the Mistress of the Dream herself, most powerful lieutenants and her consort. Oh, and it trapped Malfurion. That's one powerful twig.
The worst was when I learned that Eranikus was saved, and everything was awesome again, and then in Stormrage he sacrificed himself and was killed in a big explosion in the Emerald Dream.
But yeah, Tauren and Trolls, at the very least, existed before the Titans showed up...I'm not assuming that it was a particularly nice existence at the time, but they were there.
But yeah, Tauren and Trolls, at the very least, existed before the Titans showed up...I'm not assuming that it was a particularly nice existence at the time, but they were there.
Well, the Cataclysm didn't sink Zandalar, it cracked a big old chunk of it in the middle, and it is now 'sliding into the ocean'. They are pretty desperate though, and this is the sort of time when 'absolutely necessary' has become absolutely necessary. They are trying to find a new homeland for all trolls (except the Darkspear who are cool where they are). The Drakkari got pushed out of Gun'Drak, Zul'Aman got slapped down hard and the Amani lost Zul'Jin, and the Darkspear worked with everyone to tear apart Zul'Gurub. The refugees from all those places ended up on Zandalar. Oh and Zul'Farrak is now a 'blasted empty wasteland' thanks to the Catacylsm.
Who knows, maybe they really mellowed out after the Sundering and what not and are now coming back into the cruelty and rage bits because of the whole losing your homeland forever stuff?
Who knows, maybe they really mellowed out after the Sundering and what not and are now coming back into the cruelty and rage bits because of the whole losing your homeland forever stuff?
Chapter Eleven: Victory and Loss
The Order of the Black Heart: Part Eleven
Victory and Loss
A Warcraft III AU
Coughing cleared blood clogged passages, and with that came air. With air came consciousness and with consciousness, Galen Trollbane managed to crack open one eye, the other swollen and purple from trauma. He immediately regretted his reawakening as a tidal wave of pain washed over him.Victory and Loss
A Warcraft III AU
The sensations from all over his body communicated a general signal that felt like death, and was near enough to it to make the comparison a close contest. As he attempted to prop himself up, his arm screamed in protest and collapsed in seconds. Closing his eye, the young man tried to survey his injuries through the thick haze of pain.
The one arm he could feel throbbed from top to bottom, each pulse of pain sending a splash of black dots across his already hazy vision. Galen then attempted to move his legs, and received a bright flash of pain that nearly knocked him unconscious again in response. Finally giving up on moving for the moment, the prince of Stromgarde let his head rest against the crumbled stones that he had woken up in.
He could hear the crack and sizzle of the nearby flames, though the greater amount of noise by far was that of battle. In the distance, he could hear the crash of blades against skin and bone, the screams of men as they fought against the undead and demonic tides. There were the sounds of explosions as an ocean of bombs and explosives were unleashed by the gnomish general Thermaplugg, and the constant swish as gyrocopters pumped lead death into the swarms of gargoyles.
Galen cast his gaze about once more, wincing at the sight of every red armored body that he saw. There were dozens of visible bodies all around him, many crumpled underneath stones, and more often than not the only sign of a once proud son or daughter of Stromgarde was an arm or leg from underneath the rubble. But more than just humans had fallen, the gunmetal grey of Ironforge and weathered skin of Aerie Peak were also present alongside scattered gryphon corpses.
His head turned rapidly, drawing another throb of pain, at the sound of flapping wings.
Landing upon the rubble was a soot streaked gryphon, its snowy white feathers liberally covered with blood that had long dried to a rusty brown. Galen sighed in relief at the sight of a living Wildhammer, though the dwarf didn't look to be in much better condition than himself. The stout warrior scanned around at the bodies, one arm in a bloody sling, the other clutching his storm hammer.
"O-Over here!" Galen weakly called out, getting another round of coughing for his troubles.
The dwarf whipped his head round at the noise before approaching, carefully getting off of his gryphon and approaching on foot.
0o0o0o0o0o0
One Hour Ago, Atop Thoradin's Wall
"This isn't going to be pretty," someone said.
Galen could only nod his assent, gulping deeply at the sight in front of then. For a long two months Stromgarde had held against the undead menace alongside the dwarves of Aerie Peak and Ironforge from atop the Thoradin's Wall. They had faced flesh behemoths that were as tall as the wall itself, endless salvoes from Scourge siege weapons, magical assaults from different Scourge and demon spell casters, and other dark things.
An endless tide of zombies had begun to form piles at the base of the Wall, just trying to achieve enough height to tear at their living opponents. They had succeeded in this over a dozen times and it was only at great cost that such assaults were fended off. Despite the horror that the demons could bring to bear through illusion or the plague bombs launched towards them, there was a specific part of warfare against the undead that was more soul-rending than any other.
The Scourge made no qualms about using the corpses of anyone, man or woman, elder…or child.
Galen knew that he would remember having to hack a snarling five year old girl to pieces for the rest of his life. Her ragged dress had once been lacy and covered in frills. There had been a small bow in her pig tails. It had taken a full minute of work with his sword to keep the little ghoul from trying to bite his throat out, and after that he was assaulted by someone's rotting grandfather.
The mental toll of fighting the Scourge was taxing, and the prince of Stromgarde had seen men and women he'd known for years simply shut down over time and have to be sent back to the Keep. As the days and nights had stretched on as the tireless undead attacked at all hours and moment, more and more dwarves had to reinforce the wall as its human complement began to fail. Even then, the hardy dwarves had begun to falter slightly as they too had to put down the fallen humans of Lordaeron.
Salvation had finally come two weeks ago thanks to the gnomes who had sent their explosion happy General in Sicco Thermaplugg. The wondrous and more importantly emotionless machines of Gnomeregan had taken off immense pressure off of the Walls living defenders, and so the Scourge had been pushed back once more. The Order of the Black Heart had battered fruitlessly at the walls from their command post at Durnholde, Gavinrad the Dire himself acting as commander.
The pendulum of fate had swung in their favor, only to swing back only a few days later when a great roar had echoed out from Dalaran. Those upon the wall had despaired at the sound. As they had watched, great flashes of magical power had been visible even from the Wall in the distant city of mages, but in the end they had all known that it was inevitable that the Kirin Tor fall.
What no one had expected was what came next.
For five days the burning city had gone silent, the Scourge forces there moving themselves to reinforce Gavinrad's forces. The volume alone had nearly broken them were it not for several valiant holding actions. But then the silence was broken.
A great quake had wracked the earth, and then a terrible laugh had echoed out from Dalaran that somehow reached the Wall. From the ruins came a massive demon, a great lizard like beast that wielded a gigantic double bladed sword. A deep corona of fel green flames covered the beast as it sprinted the entire distance from the city, only growing larger as it charged towards the Wall. It was followed close behind by nine of its fellows, smaller in size but no less devastatingly powerful.
Manes of demonic flame served as their hair, and a thick forest of razor sharp teeth filled their maws that had proved able enough to bite through an unfortunate knight's enchanted plate armor. Thankfully their massive wings still proved unable to give enough lift to allow the creatures to reach the top of the wall, but they seemed determined to claw their way up anyway. It took far too many lives to keep them down for each attempt. Each wore a light set of armor, held on with rusted chain. Of far more concern were their massive weapons that burned with demonic power.
All ten had attacked the Wall for hours, tearing at it with muscle and magic and rage. Despite the best efforts of the defenders, they could not be dissuaded from their course as they tore are the foundations. Then, matters worsened with the approach of the traitor King of Lordaeron. Arthas strode down the road towards the gate at the speed of a casual stroll.
Behind the death knight came a brand new army, full of Dalaran's corpses. Dozens of the more powerful members of the Kirin Tor had been transformed into floating Liches, and from their hands came bolts of pure destruction that tore deep grooves and blasted holes into the Wall.
Galen stumbled as another of those bolts struck the wall just beneath him. Rubble tumbled away, but luckily he managed to grab onto the wall before falling to his death. Shouts of alarm greeted his ears before he simply flexed and pulled himself back up and then to his feet. His heart pounded in his chest, but he clamped down on it with steel discipline. Iron hadn't been enough even in the early days of the siege.
Waving off those who came close in concern, the prince turned at the chilling voice of Lordaeron's King.
The death knight stood directly in front of the main gate that had been reinforced a dozen times over. Blue light glowed from within black armor while a flame of the same color covered the cursed blade Frostmourne that was held in one hand. His arms were splayed wide, as a merchant at market trying to convince his customers that his prices were not gouging them completely.
"I am here to offer this chance, to any and all. Surrender, flee for your lives and you shall be spared this day!" Arthas called out, his voice magically enhanced to reach across the entire Wall from north to south.
Galen's eyes scanned about the Wall's defenders. To the last, they held resolute, some even audibly scoffing at the idea of turning coward. He breathed deeply, before delivering his answer.
"Never, traitor! We'll never surrender! Strike him down!" Galen roared.
A cheer echoed out as a veritable hurricane of arrows, storm hammers, explosives, firebombs, and even a few knives were thrown at the King. The death knight seemed to shrug before he was obscured by the incoming projectiles. Galen strained his eyes before groaning as he stood back.
Several spheres of energy glowed as they surrounded Arthas, and Galen looked back into the Scourge ranks to see the same colors of different spheres emanating from various Liches. As they faded, Arthas was revealed in a kneeling position, both hands wrapped around the hilt of his sword. Power swelled within him and the bright blue flame that had covered his blade erupted into a larger inferno whose flames licked across the death knight's armor but did no harm to their creator.
The chill that had raked down Galen's spine returned with a vengeance as those same spheres of energy returned and was then sucked down into the glowing pommel of the blade.
"What is he doing?" Galen whispered, his own grip on his sword turning his knuckles white with pressure.
The answer came seconds later as Arthas stood abruptly, took two steps forward, and then plunged Frostmourne into the earth until the entirety of the blade disappeared into the dirt.
A massive web of cracks erupted from that single point, each growing outwards and widening until they became fissures in the earth. Screaming blue flames and spirits poured forth from those fissures as they spread out across the whole of the base of the Wall. Hundreds of Scourge creatures tumbled into the abyss, but far more simply took several steps back so as to not fall themselves.
On and on they spread, until another great shudder was felt. Galen strode over before gazing down, his expression turning to horror. The cracks had spread themselves beneath the very foundations and had come out on the other side of the Wall.
Even the demons stood back, moving away from the continually widening rips in the earth. Their leader let out an enormous laugh, slapping at its belly at the sight of it, before slamming its blade into the ground and leaning on the pommel to watch.
Galen's eyes widened to saucers.
Thoradin's Wall had been built centuries ago, and was named for the very same Thoradin who had united numerous tribes into Arathor, the first nation of humanity to ever exist. It had served in the Troll Wars and had provided a massive defensive boon against the trolls of what would later be called Lordaeron as well as an enormous construction project that would never have been completed in a timely manner were it not for the assistance of the dwarves. It had taken over two decades to build.
It had been built to withstand the fury of the trolls at the height of their power. It had lasted for nearly three millennia of hardship.
It had not been built to face Arthas Menethil, empowered by the blade of Frostmourne and over twenty Liches of Dalaran. It was already a sixth of the way collapsed in three minutes.
A series of shuddering cracks echoed throughout the air before the part of the wall that Galen stood upon began to collapse. Galen yelled even as the stones began to fall. The vast majority of the soldiers around him tumbled to their deaths over the sides of the wall, but Galen's feet remained steady. He had run along its length as a boy, and it was only that experience that let him sprint for the ramps off the Wall.
He leapt over a crashing beam even as the screams began from the throats of the living and the dead as the Scourge began to pound the falling wall with their siege weapons and magics. Weaving between flailing men and women and ducking beneath a gryphon lifting off, Galen continued to run. Then, beneath his very feet, the walkway simply crumbled off into the abyss.
The last thing the scion of Trollbane saw before being knocked unconscious was the sky as it swarmed over with the flying forces of the Scourge. The last thing he heard was the laughter of demons even as Arthas called out.
"Remember, I gave you a choice!"
0o0o0o0o0o
"Oh, Prince Galen, thank goodness you're alive!" the dwarf said even as he hoisted the prince onto his gryphon.As the beast rose into the sky, the Wildhammer shoved a red potion into the human's mouth, the healing potion immediately setting to work. Three more were drained before Galen managed to speak again even as he continued to down more.
"I don't feel so thankful, personally," he groaned out. The gryphons flapping bounced him slightly, jostling the injured young man repeatedly.
"Feh, you should be. You're the first survivor from the wall I've found, and we're out of time," his rescuer replied.
"T-the first?" Galen stuttered even as he forced himself to sit straighter.
"Aye. It was…bad, lad. We were all watchin' from the Keep when th' Wall collapsed. We tried ta get rescue parties in, but the damned Scourge and their demons swarmed over. Me and me boys managed to approach from the north after swinging 'round, but you were the only one that didn't die as we reached em," the dwarf called back over his shoulder.
It was only after he finished that Galen managed to process what he had heard.
"What do you mean out of….time…," he trailed off, his voice becoming a strangled whisper.
Reaching over to tap the dwarf on the shoulder had allowed him to get a better view as the gryphon broke through the clouds.
The Arathi Highlands….all of it….was filled with demons and undead. Fel green flames burned across the plains, washing over the land and leaving it blackened and corrupted. Great crevices in a giant pattern that was the shape of an outstretched skeletal hand had been dragged across with the longest finger touching the other half of the Highlands, the 'wrist' being formed from the rubble of the Wall. In the direct center of the plains was a great floating Necropolis, a sprawling Scourge base flowing out from it like rot-filled water.
Circles of Liches worked to maintain and widen portals from which spawned an ever growing army of demons that was by now looking to match the undead in number. More creatures like the large four legged demons came, accompanied by hordes of doomguard and snarling packs of felhounds. Among them all walked strange multi-armed demon women, shouting the various groups into organized formations that then went on the march. There was all this and more, demons that Galen hadn't even known existed walking the earth before his very eyes.
"What are we going to do?" he whispered.
"That's not up to me, it's up to the Thane, the Bronzebeard, and yer dad," the dwarf replied.
0o0o0o0o0o0o0
10 Minutes Later
The gryphon landed onto the stones at high speed, claws skittering for purchase. As it stopped, a cautious Galen got down, his hand on his still throbbing sides.
"Galen!" came a voice thick with emotion.
Thoras Trollbane swept up his son and hugged him tight, cracking already broken ribs ever so slightly more.
"D-dad, can't breathe!" Galen gasped.
His words were ignored.
"Shut up boy, this is the first time I've seen you in over two day!" Thoras replied, tears of relief streaming down his face and into his blood stained mustache.
Eventually however the prince was released to cough heavily as his already much abused ribs sent up brand new signals of pain. A hand fell upon his shoulder then, making him look up.
The King of Stromgarde had seen better days. The original red paint of his plate armor had long been replaced with over a dozen new layers of blood, while the metal itself had been dented inwards so many times as to nearly be skin tight. His wild mane of hair had been cut at repeatedly, hacked apart by hastily dodged blades and claws, though a bright and fresh scar marred his face.
But the tabard of Stromgarde was still proudly displayed despite its own rips and tears, and just like it Thoras stood strong, the axe that was his namesake tightly held in one hand.
"I nearly thought you dead, Galen, though you nearly look it," he continued.
Galen managed a smile, before reaching up and giving a far less painful hug to his father with his good arm.
"My arm is broken along with some of my ribs and I've probably fractured a lot of other parts. But I'm not dead just yet, after all, I'm Stromgarde aren't I?" the prince said with a small smile at the end.
The clatter of a crate on the ground caught his attention.
A large number of weary gryphons and horses were being covered with packs and boxes filled with all manner of supplies. The fallen crate had opened slightly, revealing nicked and scratched blades before it was covered once more and the crate was fastened to the gryphon that had bucked it. A small train of peasants carried ever more to the already straining animals.
Galen turned to his father, a questioning look on his bruised face.
"Father…what's going on?" he asked.
Thoras's face turned grim as he turned away to face the walls. Upon them fighting a desperate defensive battle were the last remaining soldiers of Stromgarde remaining in the Arathi Highlands. A blight bomb lobbed by a Scourge catapult landed amongst a group, sloughing off flesh and turning the remaining skeletons against their former comrades. As they did so a group of dwarves intervened, crushing bones to dust before continuing on along the wall.
"We're leaving, boy. The Highlands are lost, and we're retreating," he said flatly.
Galen stared at him in shock.
"Wh-what!?! But, we can't! We are the sons of Stromgarde, the best fighters in all the Kingdoms! Th-this is the site of Strom, the first home of humanity, of Arathor!" he protested.
So visceral was his reaction that he began to cough, harder and harder until flecks of blood began to hit the ground. Thoras turned, and grasped both of Galen's shoulders and forcing him to look up.
"Don't you think I know that Galen?! Do you not think that it burns at my very soul to leave our home to the hand of the Scourge and their demonic masters?" Thoras roared.
The king stomped away before punching a hand into solid stone, smashing through it entirely.
"To think that for all of our vaunted martial abilities, that we could not hold back the enemy, that upon losing the Wall our ancestor built it took a little over two days for the Highlands to be overrun, do you think that it does not hurt me to even say these words!?!" he continued.
Thoras whirled and let loose a wordless yell to the heavens. It lasted for a full minute before ending, his barrel chest heaving. He stomped forward and thrust a metal covered finger into his sons face.
"We will not sacrifice the people of Stromgarde for the Keep, boy. We've been evacuating since the Wall fell and you with it. The Keep is the last resistance in the land, and soon we'll have to be heading over the Span," he growled, rage at the enemy still coloring his voice.
Galen opened his mouth, moved it wordlessly, and then closed it. He bowed his head, his one working hand clenching so deeply that blood began to drop.
"I…I just can't believe that we-," he said quietly.
"Lost? Boy we lost the moment Lordaeron fell and we sent no help. We lost when we didn't try to save Dalaran and Hillsbrad. We lost, and what's done is done. Now all we can do is try to ensure as many people as possible escape to the Wetlands and beyond," his father interrupted.
Another crash brought both of their heads jerking up, and the blood drained from Galen's face as the gate of Stromgarde Keep came crashing down. In a burst of wood splinters and flames came the same leader of the demon commanders that had come from Dalaran's ruins.
"I AM AZGALOR, TREMBLE AND DESPAIR BEFORE ME MORTALS!!!" roared the demon. Its sword swung back and forth, tearing apart the knights that attempted to approach.
Galen found himself picked up bodily and thrown back onto the gryphon he'd arrived on. Thoras nodded before shouting out orders, the packing frantically picking up the pace, many beginning to depart for the south. The land bound evacuees began to head towards the back passages towards the ocean, while the flyers simply lifted up and away.
"Father, what are you doing?!" he cried out.
Thoras looked at him, an unreadable expression on his face. He looked down at his great axe, as if weighing it in his hands. Then he turned his gaze to the frantically but painfully slow movement of his people as they fled down into the tunnels where hopefully ships in the cove would be able to carry them to Menethil Harbor. A bout of cruel laughter echoed out and brought his attention to Azgalor as the demon slaughtered its way through the few remaining soldiers.
The elder Trollbane looked at the sky, then back down, and whispered a few words to himself and giving a faint chuckle. A hand reached back and unstrapped a scabbard that had until now gone unnoticed by Galen, a very distinct name inscribed along the leather in a practically dead language.
"That's-," Galen began before stopping as the sheathed blade was shoved into his hands.
"Our legacy, boy. You take that blade, and you make damn sure you hold onto it," Thoras replied as he walked away.
"Father, what are you doing?" Galen said fearfully.
Thoras gave a deep sigh even as he hefted his axe up upon his shoulder.
"They're too exhausted. Everyone is, they've been going without sleep for two days of constant running and fighting. They aren't soldiers, they're just people trying to live," he said gazing at the citizens of his kingdom, "Too slow and the demons will catch them before they can get out. Too fast and they'll catch the Scourge's attention and be swarmed," the King turned his head to look at his son then, a hard expression on his face, "I'm not going to let that happen."
Galen struggled to get off of the Gryphon, before being held back on by the same dwarf that had saved him. He looked back as the dwarf shook his head.
"Dad! Dad no! Let me fight with you! I can still-," he tried to say even as his head swam with stars. Galen swayed before shaking himself to try and speak again. Thoras walked over, a kind smile on his face.
"Listen to me Galen. You're my son, and it will be up to you to lead our people when I'm gone," Thoras said quietly.
"Dad!" Galen cried out, his working arm still clutching onto the blade given to him.
"I love you Galen. I'm sorry, I wish we had more time," Thoras mussed his sons hair one last time before turning away, "Dwarf, take my son away from here. You make sure he lives through this or I swear I'll rise back up and find you," the king said through gritted teeth.
The dwarf nodded before lightly tapping the gryphon to fly upwards.
"The heart of a nation is not in a building or a castle boy, it's in its people. You keep the people of Stromgarde alive, you keep Stromgarde alive!" Thoras called out as his son ascended.
Galen's response was another cry for his father before he was swallowed up by the clouds. Soon after that the sound of heavy feet intruded into the courtyard accompanied by a heavy tail sliding along the ground.
"Aha! So! We finally find the last pitiful defender of this pathetic people!" Azgalor crowed.
The Pit Lord stomped through the entrance, accompanied by a score of doomguard soldiers. Behind him came Arthas, the death knight followed close behind by Kel'Thuzad and the rest of the Order of the Black Heart. Azgalor looked at the living human king impatiently, waiting for the gibbering terror that he rightfully inspired.
Thoras continued looking up towards the sky, more words whispered under his breath.
"Look at me mortal, I will not be ignored!" the demon roared, slamming his massive blade Spite into the floor.
Thoras deigned to look down before lifting his axe into a ready position.
"Wasn't ignoring you fat one, I heard you. I was just making sure to say an early hello to my wife."
Azgalor sneered. Arthas chuckled but stopped when the demons head whipped around to glare at him.
"How accommodating of you mortal, I will make sure that you are reunited posthaste."
Thoras looked down at his axe, and then held it out as it to present it, a curious expression on his face.
"You know, I never agreed with people calling the axe Trollbane. It never seemed to have gotten the chance to get a name on its own right rather than simply being my weapon of choice," he said.
"I've been thinking….how does Demonbane sound?" he continued.
Before Azgalor could speak, the King of Stromgarde was already sprinting towards him.
"BETTER YET, TELL ME HOW IT FEELS!" he bellowed as he leapt into the last battle of his life.
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Hmm. True. I changed some wording around, tell me if it fits better?Kavris said:
Kavris said:
I actually have to work at making sure that people don't end up knowing things that they shouldn't after all my wiki trawling, so I'm pretty happy that it's workingKavris said:
As for the Aquiri, they didn't win in a climactic battle that smashed them apart, the Troll won a battle of attrition. Even if they had won, their numbers were likely so depleted from that sort of war that had spanned generations that they actually didn't possess the numbers to resist. As for the Magic thing, it was magic powered by the Well of Eternity, which is like, the most uber of magics.