oscar e Sampedro Lopez
Versed in the lewd.
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Thanks for the chapter. Great story
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Resurgence of the Light [Warcraft]
- Thread starter Kordelius
- Start date
Chatper 29
Kordelius
Things die. Let them.
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So... uh... been a while? Ye I got no excuse honestly, just did not feel like writing this one I guess. Still it's so close to being finished that I just couldn't leave it and will now attempt to finish it.
Syreian strode through the stronghold that her mate's men had erected. Despite his tendency to make excuses and avoid her, she refused to relent. Though he may be of smaller stature, Syreian knew he was a powerful man, and she harbored no doubt that their offspring would inherit both her towering height and his formidable strength.
In her mind's eye, she envisioned a future with mighty Vrykul warriors wielding the Light, crushing unruly clans and uniting them under a single banner. Naturally, she pictured her own children as the charismatic leaders of this formidable force. If only her obstinate mate would overcome his reservations, embrace their connection, and claim her as his own. Frustration bubbled within her, and with each step, her feet struck the ground with unnecessary force.
The nearby men were startled by her presence, and she couldn't help but repress a sneer at what she perceived as their weakness. Why her mate chose to keep them around remained a mystery – perhaps as mere cannon fodder? She scoffed at the thought. As she continued to stomp about, seeking an outlet for her restless energy, her attention was drawn to the Lightforged undead rangers nearby.
Narrowing her eyes at the Lightforged undead rangers, Syreian couldn't shake the impression that they were nothing more than typical undead abominations. Despite this, she had witnessed their prowess in culling the forces of the Lich King, prompting her to reserve judgment and acknowledge their martial skills. In particular, she held a grudging respect for their leader, notably Sylvanas Windrunner, a warrior of formidable capabilities.
However, one figure continued to elude her – the mysterious Light's Chosen. Despite hearing about this person repeatedly, Syreian found herself unable to locate anyone who fit the description. Resigned to seeking assistance, she steeled herself to inquire about the elusive individual.
Spying a woman who appeared unfazed by her imposing presence, Syreian decided to approach. As she halted before the woman, the stranger raised an eyebrow in curiosity, pausing for a moment before inquiring, "Can I help you?" Sally asked, meeting the gaze of the Vrykul woman standing before her.
"Yes, I keep hearing about this Light's Chosen, but I cannot seem to spot him anywhere. Has he left?" Syreian inquired, a realization dawning on her that perhaps the elusive figure was on a mission or undertaking a task that kept him out of sight.
Sally furrowed her brows in contemplation, wondering about the Vrykul woman's interest in the man. "Why?" she asked, refusing to speculate without more information.
"I keep hearing about this impressive person, so I desired to take his measure for my own," Syreian explained, her motive seemingly straightforward. In the world of warriors, following someone required confidence in their worthiness as a leader, and Syreian was determined to gauge the Light's Chosen for herself.
Sally blinked slowly. "Surely you do not mean to challenge him?" Amusement tinged her voice, and Syreian sensed a trace of it, which only served to irritate her.
"And if I am? Uther has proven himself to be capable," Syreian asserted, her gaze sweeping those in proximity before dismissing them with a disdainful sniff. "Even if the others he surrounds himself with seem to be lacking." Sally snorted in response to her observation, but before Syreian could launch into further criticism, the woman extended her arm.
"There, at the top is where you will find him," Sally stated plainly before turning around, clearly uninterested in the Vrykul woman's intentions. If Syreian wished to challenge someone who could effortlessly smite them all, it was no concern of hers.
Syreian huffed in response to the casual dismissal but decided to deal with it later. Finally armed with the information she sought, she knew where to go to find the elusive Light's Chosen.
~~~~
Ascending the path toward the mountaintop, Syreian couldn't shake the nagging curiosity about the Light's Chosen. Why did he choose to seclude himself in such a manner, especially within enemy territory? Was it sheer confidence that, regardless of what the Lich King threw at him, he would emerge unscathed? If the tales she had heard of his deeds were accurate, it seemed a plausible explanation.
As she approached the summit, distant voices began to reach her ears, stirring questions. Had someone else sought out the man? Suddenly, a commanding female voice cut through the air, demanding, "Stop this at once!" Intrigued, Syreian quickened her pace, eager to witness the unfolding scene.
"You do not order me; you have neither the right nor the power to command me. I should kill you where you stand for your failures. The sheer arrogance you have of coming here and believing you can order me is unfathomable," a powerful male voice responded, laced with unwavering resolve.
As Syreian took the final steps, her eyes fell upon the scene unfolding before her. The one attempting to command the Light's Chosen was none other than Eyir, the majestic leader of the Valarjar, the entity who elevated the worthy to the ranks of Val'kyr.
Her mind momentarily froze in awe at the sight of Eyir's glory. However, that awe swiftly transformed into fear as Eyir began to exude power in response to the Light's Chosen's words. "Insolent human! You dare threaten me?!" Eyir thundered, her power escalating. Yet, with a mere wave of his hand, the Light's Chosen effortlessly suppressed Eyir's formidable might. The display left Syreian both astonished and apprehensive, realizing she stood witness to a clash of titanic forces.
"Kneel." The command of the Light's Chosen resonated, compelling both Eyir and Syreian to crash to the ground. As Syreian knelt, she pondered the reason behind her compliance, a realization slowly dawning upon her.
"You were entrusted with safeguarding this world, and you have failed time and time again. Do you think I do not know what dwells in Ulduar? Of Loken's betrayal? You had one job, just the one, and you all failed miserably at it. Were I the one to have created you and had you failed me so completely, I would destroy you." The stern words of the Light's Chosen reverberated, leaving Syreian feeling chastised, though she knew little of the failures he spoke of.
"You do not—" Eyir attempted to interject, but a single word from the Light's Chosen silenced her. "Silence," he commanded. "Here is what is about to happen. Soon, the attack on Icecrown will begin. Those that survive will have become hardened from the hardships and horrors they had witnessed. Once that has come to pass, you will return, and you will seek out Matriarch Liadrin. Speak to her of the horrors that hide in this world." The directive unfolded before them, and Syreian couldn't help but feel a weighty sense of responsibility settle upon her.
"After which, you will assist her in preparing the mortal races of this world to face those horrors and destroy them once and for all. Am I understood?" The Light's Chosen's words were firm, leaving no room for argument, as cold as the surrounding ice and unyielding as steel.
Eyir gritted her teeth and snarled, putting all her effort into the words she spoke. "Why should I?" Eyir questioned, each word requiring a significant effort.
"Because that is what should've been done long ago," a calmer and more somber voice responded. As the words settled, Alexstrasza calmly walked towards the subjugated Eyir and the unyielding Light's Chosen. The arrival of the Life-Binder added another layer of gravity to the scene, leaving Syreian to contemplate the weight of the impending tasks that lay ahead for them all.
Stepping beside him, Alexstrasza laid her hand calmly upon the Light's Chosen's shoulder, causing the pressure emanating from him to lessen. A grateful smile graced Alexstrasza's face. "Alexstrasza," Eyir said slowly as she stood up, a hint of confusion and wariness in her voice.
"Eyir," Alexstrasza responded much more pleasantly. A contemplative silence settled over the area as everyone took a moment to reflect on the situation. "Do you think it wise to trust these mortals?" Eyir questioned, directing her inquiry towards Alexstrasza.
"Yes," Alexstrasza responded after a moment. "The mistakes they've made pale in comparison to those made by us. It is time we fix them. So, yes, I will support them and ask for their help to safeguard this world that was entrusted to us," Alexstrasza continued resolutely, locking eyes with Eyir without a hint of wavering.
"Very well," Eyir uttered before disappearing in a tower of Light, returning to the Halls of Valor. Alexstrasza turned towards the Light's Chosen. "A more gentle approach would yield better results; you know this," her tone held a hint of reproach, but in truth, it bore more resignation.
The Light's Chosen remained silent and unmoving, unyielding in his stance. Recognizing that he would not deign to respond, Alexstrasza sighed before turning her attention to Syreian, prompting her to stand quickly and shuffle awkwardly.
Alexstrasza offered Syreian a small, reassuring smile as she approached, stopping before her. "Best not speak of this," her tone remained pleasant, and her smile warm, but the warning in her words was unmistakable. Syreian nodded slowly, swallowing heavily.
A quick glance was spared at the Light's Chosen behind her before Alexstrasza turned her attention back to Syreian. "Best to leave your inquiries for another time, I believe," there was a hint of amusement in Alexstrasza's voice, but Syreian failed to feel it. Another nod followed, and she turned, departing from the scene. The power she had witnessed and the mysteries that surrounded the Light's Chosen lingered in her thoughts as she moved away, leaving her with much to contemplate.
~~~~
Uther stood in the command center, meticulously scrutinizing the plans for the impending attack. His eyes moved across the details, searching for any possible improvements, overlooked elements, or points of concern. However, as he reviewed the strategy once more, a sigh escaped him, realizing that they were as prepared as they could be.
The weight of anticipation settled on his shoulders, and he sagged slightly. The leaders around him shared in the palpable tension, feeling high-strung and restless, waiting for a decisive word from him. Time lingered, stretching with uncertainty. As they hesitated, doubts crept in—would he give the order to attack, or was he waiting for them to take the initiative? The sense of anticipation became a double-edged sword, building a sense of urgency and questioning among the leaders, eager for clarity in their impending course of action.
Uther's self-imposed seclusion had cast a shadow of uncertainty over the leaders in the command center. The palpable presence of their leader had not waned, indicating he was unharmed and aware of their readiness. Yet, the delay lingered, and doubts began to breed among them. Was it truly Uther who hesitated, or were they the ones causing the delay?
Recalling Uther's own words that he was in charge and brought back to lead, a surge of resolve coursed through him. The time for doubt and uncertainty was over. Uther clenched his fists, dispelling any lingering hesitation.
"Guards!" His commanding voice echoed through the room, prompting the doors to open, revealing two men ready for action. Finding nothing amiss, they turned their attention to Uther. "Spread the word. We attack at dawn," Uther commanded. The two men saluted, swiftly leaving to relay his orders, the announcement finally breaking the tense anticipation that had gripped the command center. The decision was made, and the path forward was clear – an attack at dawn.
A bit of that and a bit of this.
Syreian strode through the stronghold that her mate's men had erected. Despite his tendency to make excuses and avoid her, she refused to relent. Though he may be of smaller stature, Syreian knew he was a powerful man, and she harbored no doubt that their offspring would inherit both her towering height and his formidable strength.
In her mind's eye, she envisioned a future with mighty Vrykul warriors wielding the Light, crushing unruly clans and uniting them under a single banner. Naturally, she pictured her own children as the charismatic leaders of this formidable force. If only her obstinate mate would overcome his reservations, embrace their connection, and claim her as his own. Frustration bubbled within her, and with each step, her feet struck the ground with unnecessary force.
The nearby men were startled by her presence, and she couldn't help but repress a sneer at what she perceived as their weakness. Why her mate chose to keep them around remained a mystery – perhaps as mere cannon fodder? She scoffed at the thought. As she continued to stomp about, seeking an outlet for her restless energy, her attention was drawn to the Lightforged undead rangers nearby.
Narrowing her eyes at the Lightforged undead rangers, Syreian couldn't shake the impression that they were nothing more than typical undead abominations. Despite this, she had witnessed their prowess in culling the forces of the Lich King, prompting her to reserve judgment and acknowledge their martial skills. In particular, she held a grudging respect for their leader, notably Sylvanas Windrunner, a warrior of formidable capabilities.
However, one figure continued to elude her – the mysterious Light's Chosen. Despite hearing about this person repeatedly, Syreian found herself unable to locate anyone who fit the description. Resigned to seeking assistance, she steeled herself to inquire about the elusive individual.
Spying a woman who appeared unfazed by her imposing presence, Syreian decided to approach. As she halted before the woman, the stranger raised an eyebrow in curiosity, pausing for a moment before inquiring, "Can I help you?" Sally asked, meeting the gaze of the Vrykul woman standing before her.
"Yes, I keep hearing about this Light's Chosen, but I cannot seem to spot him anywhere. Has he left?" Syreian inquired, a realization dawning on her that perhaps the elusive figure was on a mission or undertaking a task that kept him out of sight.
Sally furrowed her brows in contemplation, wondering about the Vrykul woman's interest in the man. "Why?" she asked, refusing to speculate without more information.
"I keep hearing about this impressive person, so I desired to take his measure for my own," Syreian explained, her motive seemingly straightforward. In the world of warriors, following someone required confidence in their worthiness as a leader, and Syreian was determined to gauge the Light's Chosen for herself.
Sally blinked slowly. "Surely you do not mean to challenge him?" Amusement tinged her voice, and Syreian sensed a trace of it, which only served to irritate her.
"And if I am? Uther has proven himself to be capable," Syreian asserted, her gaze sweeping those in proximity before dismissing them with a disdainful sniff. "Even if the others he surrounds himself with seem to be lacking." Sally snorted in response to her observation, but before Syreian could launch into further criticism, the woman extended her arm.
"There, at the top is where you will find him," Sally stated plainly before turning around, clearly uninterested in the Vrykul woman's intentions. If Syreian wished to challenge someone who could effortlessly smite them all, it was no concern of hers.
Syreian huffed in response to the casual dismissal but decided to deal with it later. Finally armed with the information she sought, she knew where to go to find the elusive Light's Chosen.
~~~~
Ascending the path toward the mountaintop, Syreian couldn't shake the nagging curiosity about the Light's Chosen. Why did he choose to seclude himself in such a manner, especially within enemy territory? Was it sheer confidence that, regardless of what the Lich King threw at him, he would emerge unscathed? If the tales she had heard of his deeds were accurate, it seemed a plausible explanation.
As she approached the summit, distant voices began to reach her ears, stirring questions. Had someone else sought out the man? Suddenly, a commanding female voice cut through the air, demanding, "Stop this at once!" Intrigued, Syreian quickened her pace, eager to witness the unfolding scene.
"You do not order me; you have neither the right nor the power to command me. I should kill you where you stand for your failures. The sheer arrogance you have of coming here and believing you can order me is unfathomable," a powerful male voice responded, laced with unwavering resolve.
As Syreian took the final steps, her eyes fell upon the scene unfolding before her. The one attempting to command the Light's Chosen was none other than Eyir, the majestic leader of the Valarjar, the entity who elevated the worthy to the ranks of Val'kyr.
Her mind momentarily froze in awe at the sight of Eyir's glory. However, that awe swiftly transformed into fear as Eyir began to exude power in response to the Light's Chosen's words. "Insolent human! You dare threaten me?!" Eyir thundered, her power escalating. Yet, with a mere wave of his hand, the Light's Chosen effortlessly suppressed Eyir's formidable might. The display left Syreian both astonished and apprehensive, realizing she stood witness to a clash of titanic forces.
"Kneel." The command of the Light's Chosen resonated, compelling both Eyir and Syreian to crash to the ground. As Syreian knelt, she pondered the reason behind her compliance, a realization slowly dawning upon her.
"You were entrusted with safeguarding this world, and you have failed time and time again. Do you think I do not know what dwells in Ulduar? Of Loken's betrayal? You had one job, just the one, and you all failed miserably at it. Were I the one to have created you and had you failed me so completely, I would destroy you." The stern words of the Light's Chosen reverberated, leaving Syreian feeling chastised, though she knew little of the failures he spoke of.
"You do not—" Eyir attempted to interject, but a single word from the Light's Chosen silenced her. "Silence," he commanded. "Here is what is about to happen. Soon, the attack on Icecrown will begin. Those that survive will have become hardened from the hardships and horrors they had witnessed. Once that has come to pass, you will return, and you will seek out Matriarch Liadrin. Speak to her of the horrors that hide in this world." The directive unfolded before them, and Syreian couldn't help but feel a weighty sense of responsibility settle upon her.
"After which, you will assist her in preparing the mortal races of this world to face those horrors and destroy them once and for all. Am I understood?" The Light's Chosen's words were firm, leaving no room for argument, as cold as the surrounding ice and unyielding as steel.
Eyir gritted her teeth and snarled, putting all her effort into the words she spoke. "Why should I?" Eyir questioned, each word requiring a significant effort.
"Because that is what should've been done long ago," a calmer and more somber voice responded. As the words settled, Alexstrasza calmly walked towards the subjugated Eyir and the unyielding Light's Chosen. The arrival of the Life-Binder added another layer of gravity to the scene, leaving Syreian to contemplate the weight of the impending tasks that lay ahead for them all.
Stepping beside him, Alexstrasza laid her hand calmly upon the Light's Chosen's shoulder, causing the pressure emanating from him to lessen. A grateful smile graced Alexstrasza's face. "Alexstrasza," Eyir said slowly as she stood up, a hint of confusion and wariness in her voice.
"Eyir," Alexstrasza responded much more pleasantly. A contemplative silence settled over the area as everyone took a moment to reflect on the situation. "Do you think it wise to trust these mortals?" Eyir questioned, directing her inquiry towards Alexstrasza.
"Yes," Alexstrasza responded after a moment. "The mistakes they've made pale in comparison to those made by us. It is time we fix them. So, yes, I will support them and ask for their help to safeguard this world that was entrusted to us," Alexstrasza continued resolutely, locking eyes with Eyir without a hint of wavering.
"Very well," Eyir uttered before disappearing in a tower of Light, returning to the Halls of Valor. Alexstrasza turned towards the Light's Chosen. "A more gentle approach would yield better results; you know this," her tone held a hint of reproach, but in truth, it bore more resignation.
The Light's Chosen remained silent and unmoving, unyielding in his stance. Recognizing that he would not deign to respond, Alexstrasza sighed before turning her attention to Syreian, prompting her to stand quickly and shuffle awkwardly.
Alexstrasza offered Syreian a small, reassuring smile as she approached, stopping before her. "Best not speak of this," her tone remained pleasant, and her smile warm, but the warning in her words was unmistakable. Syreian nodded slowly, swallowing heavily.
A quick glance was spared at the Light's Chosen behind her before Alexstrasza turned her attention back to Syreian. "Best to leave your inquiries for another time, I believe," there was a hint of amusement in Alexstrasza's voice, but Syreian failed to feel it. Another nod followed, and she turned, departing from the scene. The power she had witnessed and the mysteries that surrounded the Light's Chosen lingered in her thoughts as she moved away, leaving her with much to contemplate.
~~~~
Uther stood in the command center, meticulously scrutinizing the plans for the impending attack. His eyes moved across the details, searching for any possible improvements, overlooked elements, or points of concern. However, as he reviewed the strategy once more, a sigh escaped him, realizing that they were as prepared as they could be.
The weight of anticipation settled on his shoulders, and he sagged slightly. The leaders around him shared in the palpable tension, feeling high-strung and restless, waiting for a decisive word from him. Time lingered, stretching with uncertainty. As they hesitated, doubts crept in—would he give the order to attack, or was he waiting for them to take the initiative? The sense of anticipation became a double-edged sword, building a sense of urgency and questioning among the leaders, eager for clarity in their impending course of action.
Uther's self-imposed seclusion had cast a shadow of uncertainty over the leaders in the command center. The palpable presence of their leader had not waned, indicating he was unharmed and aware of their readiness. Yet, the delay lingered, and doubts began to breed among them. Was it truly Uther who hesitated, or were they the ones causing the delay?
Recalling Uther's own words that he was in charge and brought back to lead, a surge of resolve coursed through him. The time for doubt and uncertainty was over. Uther clenched his fists, dispelling any lingering hesitation.
"Guards!" His commanding voice echoed through the room, prompting the doors to open, revealing two men ready for action. Finding nothing amiss, they turned their attention to Uther. "Spread the word. We attack at dawn," Uther commanded. The two men saluted, swiftly leaving to relay his orders, the announcement finally breaking the tense anticipation that had gripped the command center. The decision was made, and the path forward was clear – an attack at dawn.
A bit of that and a bit of this.
Kordelius
Things die. Let them.
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He's not supposed to be, but I think I can see why you would think that.
Ayashi
Connoisseur.
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I think it's less "unhinged and corrupted" and more "I ran out of patience days ago".
Kind of like OMG in Bleach pulling out his famous "Be gone from here! I don't have time nor the patience to teach a mere infant like you how to breathe." quote...
Also,
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Kordelius
Things die. Let them.
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In essence, yes that was what I was going for, the MC is just sick and tired of those that were supposed to act in defense of this world simply allowing shit to happen and when asked - why? Having no answer.
Yep this exactly. He is sick an tired of those that have the power to better the world do nothing.
Also watching those videos reminded me of something I had considered some time ago - from a bosses perspective a player character must be completely horrific. For no matter how many times you kill them, they keep coming back, again and again and again and so forth till you die.
Ayashi
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Reminds me of a nice Humans are Space Orcs postthat goes something like this:
There's overwhelming proof that humans evolved as pursuit predators and can we just take a minute to talk about how fucking terrifying that is?
it's one thing to face down a cheetah, which will ram into you at 60mph and break your neck, it's another thing to run very quickly to get away from a thing, only to have it just kind of show up.
To have it be intelligent enough to figure out where you are by the fur and feathers you've left behind, your footprints and piss, and then you think you've lost it and you bed down for the night but there it is waiting for you, and you split! again! but it keeps following you... always in the corner of your eye... until you just... die.
Chapter 30
Kordelius
Things die. Let them.
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As the first light of dawn pierced the icy veil shrouding Icecrown, a charged stillness enveloped the warriors gathered below. Men and women, their breath forming frosty clouds in the frigid air, stood resolute amidst the snow-covered expanse. Their weapons, were clasped tightly, each grip a testament to their unwavering determination.
Today marked the culmination of their relentless pursuit of justice, the day they would finally confront the chilling menace of the Lich King within the heart of Icecrown Citadel. With every fiber of their being, they were prepared to face the harrowing trials that awaited them, for in their minds, there existed no room for doubt or fear.
As the sun ascended, casting its golden glow upon the icy fortress, a silent vow echoed among the ranks: failure was inconceivable, for today, victory alone would grace their swords and shield their hearts from the icy grip of despair.
In the hushed stillness that had settled over the battlefield, a voice resounded with the commanding authority of a seasoned leader. It was the voice of Uther, echoing with a resonance that stirred the very essence of those who stood amidst the gathering storm.
Even the undead, relentless in their assault, faltered at the sound, sensing the shift in the air. The ceaseless onslaught paused, as if the world itself held its breath in anticipation of what would come next. Uther's words, a beacon of unwavering resolve, pierced through the silence, carrying with them a promise of redemption and triumph in the face of darkness.
"Lords and ladies, warriors and champions of the realm, today we stand on the precipice of destiny! For too long have we cowered in the shadow of the icy citadel, letting fear and doubt gnaw at the very core of our resolve. But no more! Today, we march upon Icecrown with hearts ablaze, with swords raised high, and with a fire in our souls that shall not be extinguished!
Look around you, my fellow brethren! See the faces of those who have stood shoulder to shoulder with you through every trial, every tribulation. They are not just comrades; they are family! And together, as one united force, we shall shatter the chains of tyranny that bind our world!
The Lich King sits upon his frozen throne, a tyrant who would enslave us all to his will. But we are not mere pawns in his game! We are free beings, born to carve our own destinies with the strength of our arms and the courage of our hearts!
Today, we fight not just for ourselves, but for every man, woman, and child who has ever dared to dream of a better tomorrow! We fight for the future of Azeroth, for the light that still flickers within each and every one of us!
So rally, my friends! Rally to the banners of hope and righteousness! Let our battle cry echo across the icy wastes, a beacon of defiance against the darkness that threatens to consume us! For today, we stand as one, undaunted and unbroken, ready to face whatever horrors await us within the accursed halls of Icecrown!
Onward, brave souls! Onward to victory! For Azeroth! For freedom! For the Light!"
As Uther's conviction and resolve reached a pinnacle, an awe-inspiring phenomenon unfolded. Brilliant rays of light emanated from his very being, a manifestation of the purest essence of the Light itself. Such was the depth of his unwavering determination that the Light, in all its boundless power, deemed him worthy of its divine blessing.
As the radiant glow enveloped him, Uther's voice resonated with a newfound clarity and strength, carrying his words like a sacred hymn to all who stood witness. His message, infused with the transcendent energy of the Light, reverberated across the battlefield, reaching the hearts and souls of allies and adversaries alike.
In that moment, amidst the chaos of battle, a profound stillness descended as Uther's words, now imbued with the divine essence of the Light, echoed throughout the land. It was a testament to the unyielding power of his faith and the unwavering resolve of those who stood united in the face of darkness.
As Uther's resonant words lingered in the air like a valiant anthem, a chilling presence descended upon the battlefield, shrouding it in an ominous silence. Suddenly, a gravely voice, laden with the icy echoes of the Lich King, shattered the stillness. The malevolent ruler of Icecrown Citadel had heard Uther's impassioned plea and responded with disdain.
"Foolish mortals," the Lich King's voice reverberated, each word dripping with contempt. "Your words are but fleeting echoes in the winds of destiny. You speak of hope and righteousness, yet you fail to comprehend the futility of your struggle. Icecrown stands as an eternal bastion of death, a monument to my dominion over this world."
Despite the bone-chilling proclamation, the warriors below stood undeterred. The Lich King continued, his voice a sinister melody in the frigid air, "Your bravery is commendable, but it is ultimately futile. You cannot defy the inevitable. I am the master of death, and your defiance only serves to amuse me. Your precious Azeroth will fall, its light extinguished by the darkness that I command."
With an unsettling laughter that echoed like a spectral specter, Arthas's voice faded into the winds. However, instead of quenching the flame of determination, his words only stoked the fervor within the hearts of those who had gathered in defiance. Uther's inspirational words had kindled a flame that now burned even brighter, casting aside the shadow of doubt as they prepared to march toward Icecrown's gates, fully aware that the battle ahead would be an epic clash between the forces of light and the looming darkness that sought to engulf them all.
With his mace clenched tightly in his grip, Uther's gaze pierced through the encroaching ranks of undead, a righteous anger burning within him like a blazing inferno. In a swift motion, he thrust his mace ahead of him, its imposing presence commanding the attention of all who stood in defiance of the darkness.
"CHARGE!" Uther's voice boomed like thunder, resonating across the battlefield with an intensity that shook the very earth beneath their feet.
In response to his call, a cacophony of thunderous footsteps reverberated through the air as the warriors surged forward with unwavering determination. Spells crackled and arced overhead, weaving a tapestry of arcane energy that illuminated the darkened skies. With each stride, they moved ever closer to the looming fortress of Icecrown, their hearts ablaze with the fervent resolve to vanquish the looming threat of death and darkness.
The war between life and death had begun, a clash of epic proportions that would determine the fate of Azeroth itself.
~~~~
As Light's Chosen observed from his vantage point above, a mix of frustration and satisfaction washed over him as he witnessed the resolve of those he had gathered finally crystallize into action. They stood on their own feet now, ready to confront the undead menace and fulfill the purpose that had brought them to this battlefield – the destruction of the undead scourge.
"Took them long enough," he muttered to himself, a hint of exasperation lacing his words. A snort from the side drew his attention, and he turned to find Sylvanas, her rangers silent behind them, regarding him with a mixture of amusement and impatience.
"If you did not wish to waste time, a word from you and this would've been over by now," Sylvanas retorted curtly, her gaze sharp with unspoken reproach.
"They have grown too fond of someone else always telling them what to do, always dragging them towards their own salvation. For this world to survive, that cannot continue," Light's Chosen remarked solemnly, his words echoing the sentiments that mirrored Sylvanas' own thoughts.
A figure caught Sylvanas' gaze, Liadrin, carving through undead with the radiant power of the Light. Sylvanas studied her for a moment, her gaze narrowing in contemplation. "Will she succeed?" she asked simply, her voice betraying no need for clarification.
Light's Chosen remained silent for a time, his gaze shifting to observe Liadrin and her order, a diverse assembly of Blood Elves and Draenei united in purpose. "Alone? No," he replied eventually. His gaze then shifted to another figure, Darion Mograine, wielding the legendary sword that incinerated undead with righteous fire – the new Ashbringer. "But if they work together, they may yet succeed. However, should they fail... this world is doomed," he concluded gravely, his words eliciting a grimace from Sylvanas.
Her fingers flexed as thoughts raced through her mind, but before she could voice them, Light's Chosen uttered a single word that stilled her. "No."
It was a simple word, yet it carried a weight of finality that made Sylvanas abandon the thoughts that had begun to gather in her mind. No matter how much she wished to contradict him, Light's Chosen was right. Whether they succeeded or failed, the fate of the world rested squarely on their shoulders. For life belonged to the living, and it was up to them to determine its course.
~~~~
Krasus approached Alexstrasza, the silent understanding between them speaking volumes as they gazed upon the unfolding chaos of the assault on Icecrown. The time had come for them to play their roles in this grand endeavor, each burdened with their own responsibilities.
"Is everyone ready, Krasus?" Alexstrasza's voice, soft yet resolute, cut through the tense atmosphere as she kept her gaze fixed on the scene before them.
"Yes, my queen," Krasus replied, his tone echoing her unwavering certainty. They had been prepared for this moment for a long time, their preparations meticulous and thorough.
In a moment of hesitation, Krasus enveloped Alexstrasza in an embrace, a silent gesture of solidarity and support. For a fleeting instant, she stilled in his arms before succumbing to the solace of his embrace. Ever since the burdensome ordeal with Malygos and the subjugation of the blue dragonflight, Alexstrasza had carried a somber weight upon her shoulders.
Her decisions and their consequences weighed heavily upon her, haunting her with their implications and repercussions. "It does not do to dwell on the past, my love. The future lies before us," Krasus murmured, his words a gentle reminder of hope and resilience.
Slowly, Alexstrasza turned to meet his gaze, a grateful smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "Thank you," she whispered softly, her gratitude evident in her eyes as she pressed a tender kiss against his lips.
As she broke away from his embrace, a renewed determination gleamed in her eyes. "Will you join them?" Krasus inquired, surprised by her sudden decision to engage directly in the fray.
Alexstrasza's smile widened, a glimmer of anticipation dancing in her gaze. "The future lies before us," she echoed, before gracefully leaping down from their vantage point.
As she descended, a surge of life radiated from her being, a soothing balm that healed the wounded and revitalized the weary. For a moment, Krasus stood in awe, his surprise giving way to admiration as he watched her selflessly tend to the battlefield.
Shaking his head with a wistful smile, Krasus turned to join the others in the relentless assault against the approaching frost wyrms, heartened by the unwavering resolve of his beloved queen and the boundless strength of their united purpose.
~~~~
Velanara grunted as she pushed away another undead abomination, her muscles straining with the effort before she swiftly cleaved it in half with a deft stroke of her blade. Surveying the chaotic scene around her, she nodded to herself in satisfaction. The Sentinels of Light were proving their mettle, their honed teamwork evident in the seamless coordination born of relentless drills imposed by both her and Liadrin.
Their collective resolve and unyielding determination shone like beacons amidst the darkness, propelling them forward with unwavering purpose.
Initially, Velanara had been taken aback when Velen approached her, asking her to join this newly formed order. Having been a part of his honor guard for so long, she couldn't help but feel a pang of anxiety, fearing that she had somehow faltered and was now being dismissed.
Thankfully, Velen swiftly allayed her fears, explaining the vital role he envisioned for this order in the survival of their world. He saw potential in her, a potential that transcended her role as a mere guardian.
As she approached the Matriarch of the order, Velanara found herself under a scrutinizing gaze that caught her off guard. Liadrin's discerning eyes seemed to pierce through her very soul, undeterred even by the reassurances of the Light. No, Liadrin took measure of each individual on her own terms.
Questions upon questions, misdirections, lies, and truths – Liadrin subjected every aspirant to a battery of tests. She tempted them with promises of power, glory, wealth, and pleasures, and those who failed... Velanara winced as she recalled the sight of Liadrin personally cutting down one who had succumbed to deceit and deception.
Later, Velanara learned of the insidious threat that had lurked within their midst – a sect of demon worshippers who had sought to infiltrate and corrupt the order for their own nefarious ends. Liadrin's swift and decisive action had eradicated the threat in a single stroke, their treacherous ambitions laid bare before Prince Kael'Thas and Prophet Velen.
Yet, even this had been a test orchestrated by Liadrin, a test not just for the aspirants, but for the leadership as well. In Liadrin's eyes, the insidious tendrils of evil and corruption could be found lurking in the darkest corners of every soul, and it was the duty of the order to safeguard their world from such malevolence.
Velanara grappled with conflicting emotions, feeling torn between admiration and apprehension at Liadrin's zealous devotion. When she voiced her concerns to Prophet Velen, his laughter caught her off guard. Amidst the echoes of his laughter, he offered a perspective that challenged her preconceptions.
"Why do you think I asked you to join them?" Velen's words resonated with a profound wisdom, shaking Velanara to her core. In that moment, she realized the weight of responsibility that had been entrusted to her, a responsibility that transcended her doubts and fears.
As a broken man once said - The time has come! The moment is at hand!
Let's hope they are prepared.
That said there is three extra chapters on my Patreon So if you want to read ahead that is the place.
That said the story will most likely end by chapter 34 or 35, depending on how I write it.
Today marked the culmination of their relentless pursuit of justice, the day they would finally confront the chilling menace of the Lich King within the heart of Icecrown Citadel. With every fiber of their being, they were prepared to face the harrowing trials that awaited them, for in their minds, there existed no room for doubt or fear.
As the sun ascended, casting its golden glow upon the icy fortress, a silent vow echoed among the ranks: failure was inconceivable, for today, victory alone would grace their swords and shield their hearts from the icy grip of despair.
In the hushed stillness that had settled over the battlefield, a voice resounded with the commanding authority of a seasoned leader. It was the voice of Uther, echoing with a resonance that stirred the very essence of those who stood amidst the gathering storm.
Even the undead, relentless in their assault, faltered at the sound, sensing the shift in the air. The ceaseless onslaught paused, as if the world itself held its breath in anticipation of what would come next. Uther's words, a beacon of unwavering resolve, pierced through the silence, carrying with them a promise of redemption and triumph in the face of darkness.
"Lords and ladies, warriors and champions of the realm, today we stand on the precipice of destiny! For too long have we cowered in the shadow of the icy citadel, letting fear and doubt gnaw at the very core of our resolve. But no more! Today, we march upon Icecrown with hearts ablaze, with swords raised high, and with a fire in our souls that shall not be extinguished!
Look around you, my fellow brethren! See the faces of those who have stood shoulder to shoulder with you through every trial, every tribulation. They are not just comrades; they are family! And together, as one united force, we shall shatter the chains of tyranny that bind our world!
The Lich King sits upon his frozen throne, a tyrant who would enslave us all to his will. But we are not mere pawns in his game! We are free beings, born to carve our own destinies with the strength of our arms and the courage of our hearts!
Today, we fight not just for ourselves, but for every man, woman, and child who has ever dared to dream of a better tomorrow! We fight for the future of Azeroth, for the light that still flickers within each and every one of us!
So rally, my friends! Rally to the banners of hope and righteousness! Let our battle cry echo across the icy wastes, a beacon of defiance against the darkness that threatens to consume us! For today, we stand as one, undaunted and unbroken, ready to face whatever horrors await us within the accursed halls of Icecrown!
Onward, brave souls! Onward to victory! For Azeroth! For freedom! For the Light!"
As Uther's conviction and resolve reached a pinnacle, an awe-inspiring phenomenon unfolded. Brilliant rays of light emanated from his very being, a manifestation of the purest essence of the Light itself. Such was the depth of his unwavering determination that the Light, in all its boundless power, deemed him worthy of its divine blessing.
As the radiant glow enveloped him, Uther's voice resonated with a newfound clarity and strength, carrying his words like a sacred hymn to all who stood witness. His message, infused with the transcendent energy of the Light, reverberated across the battlefield, reaching the hearts and souls of allies and adversaries alike.
In that moment, amidst the chaos of battle, a profound stillness descended as Uther's words, now imbued with the divine essence of the Light, echoed throughout the land. It was a testament to the unyielding power of his faith and the unwavering resolve of those who stood united in the face of darkness.
As Uther's resonant words lingered in the air like a valiant anthem, a chilling presence descended upon the battlefield, shrouding it in an ominous silence. Suddenly, a gravely voice, laden with the icy echoes of the Lich King, shattered the stillness. The malevolent ruler of Icecrown Citadel had heard Uther's impassioned plea and responded with disdain.
"Foolish mortals," the Lich King's voice reverberated, each word dripping with contempt. "Your words are but fleeting echoes in the winds of destiny. You speak of hope and righteousness, yet you fail to comprehend the futility of your struggle. Icecrown stands as an eternal bastion of death, a monument to my dominion over this world."
Despite the bone-chilling proclamation, the warriors below stood undeterred. The Lich King continued, his voice a sinister melody in the frigid air, "Your bravery is commendable, but it is ultimately futile. You cannot defy the inevitable. I am the master of death, and your defiance only serves to amuse me. Your precious Azeroth will fall, its light extinguished by the darkness that I command."
With an unsettling laughter that echoed like a spectral specter, Arthas's voice faded into the winds. However, instead of quenching the flame of determination, his words only stoked the fervor within the hearts of those who had gathered in defiance. Uther's inspirational words had kindled a flame that now burned even brighter, casting aside the shadow of doubt as they prepared to march toward Icecrown's gates, fully aware that the battle ahead would be an epic clash between the forces of light and the looming darkness that sought to engulf them all.
With his mace clenched tightly in his grip, Uther's gaze pierced through the encroaching ranks of undead, a righteous anger burning within him like a blazing inferno. In a swift motion, he thrust his mace ahead of him, its imposing presence commanding the attention of all who stood in defiance of the darkness.
"CHARGE!" Uther's voice boomed like thunder, resonating across the battlefield with an intensity that shook the very earth beneath their feet.
In response to his call, a cacophony of thunderous footsteps reverberated through the air as the warriors surged forward with unwavering determination. Spells crackled and arced overhead, weaving a tapestry of arcane energy that illuminated the darkened skies. With each stride, they moved ever closer to the looming fortress of Icecrown, their hearts ablaze with the fervent resolve to vanquish the looming threat of death and darkness.
The war between life and death had begun, a clash of epic proportions that would determine the fate of Azeroth itself.
~~~~
As Light's Chosen observed from his vantage point above, a mix of frustration and satisfaction washed over him as he witnessed the resolve of those he had gathered finally crystallize into action. They stood on their own feet now, ready to confront the undead menace and fulfill the purpose that had brought them to this battlefield – the destruction of the undead scourge.
"Took them long enough," he muttered to himself, a hint of exasperation lacing his words. A snort from the side drew his attention, and he turned to find Sylvanas, her rangers silent behind them, regarding him with a mixture of amusement and impatience.
"If you did not wish to waste time, a word from you and this would've been over by now," Sylvanas retorted curtly, her gaze sharp with unspoken reproach.
"They have grown too fond of someone else always telling them what to do, always dragging them towards their own salvation. For this world to survive, that cannot continue," Light's Chosen remarked solemnly, his words echoing the sentiments that mirrored Sylvanas' own thoughts.
A figure caught Sylvanas' gaze, Liadrin, carving through undead with the radiant power of the Light. Sylvanas studied her for a moment, her gaze narrowing in contemplation. "Will she succeed?" she asked simply, her voice betraying no need for clarification.
Light's Chosen remained silent for a time, his gaze shifting to observe Liadrin and her order, a diverse assembly of Blood Elves and Draenei united in purpose. "Alone? No," he replied eventually. His gaze then shifted to another figure, Darion Mograine, wielding the legendary sword that incinerated undead with righteous fire – the new Ashbringer. "But if they work together, they may yet succeed. However, should they fail... this world is doomed," he concluded gravely, his words eliciting a grimace from Sylvanas.
Her fingers flexed as thoughts raced through her mind, but before she could voice them, Light's Chosen uttered a single word that stilled her. "No."
It was a simple word, yet it carried a weight of finality that made Sylvanas abandon the thoughts that had begun to gather in her mind. No matter how much she wished to contradict him, Light's Chosen was right. Whether they succeeded or failed, the fate of the world rested squarely on their shoulders. For life belonged to the living, and it was up to them to determine its course.
~~~~
Krasus approached Alexstrasza, the silent understanding between them speaking volumes as they gazed upon the unfolding chaos of the assault on Icecrown. The time had come for them to play their roles in this grand endeavor, each burdened with their own responsibilities.
"Is everyone ready, Krasus?" Alexstrasza's voice, soft yet resolute, cut through the tense atmosphere as she kept her gaze fixed on the scene before them.
"Yes, my queen," Krasus replied, his tone echoing her unwavering certainty. They had been prepared for this moment for a long time, their preparations meticulous and thorough.
In a moment of hesitation, Krasus enveloped Alexstrasza in an embrace, a silent gesture of solidarity and support. For a fleeting instant, she stilled in his arms before succumbing to the solace of his embrace. Ever since the burdensome ordeal with Malygos and the subjugation of the blue dragonflight, Alexstrasza had carried a somber weight upon her shoulders.
Her decisions and their consequences weighed heavily upon her, haunting her with their implications and repercussions. "It does not do to dwell on the past, my love. The future lies before us," Krasus murmured, his words a gentle reminder of hope and resilience.
Slowly, Alexstrasza turned to meet his gaze, a grateful smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "Thank you," she whispered softly, her gratitude evident in her eyes as she pressed a tender kiss against his lips.
As she broke away from his embrace, a renewed determination gleamed in her eyes. "Will you join them?" Krasus inquired, surprised by her sudden decision to engage directly in the fray.
Alexstrasza's smile widened, a glimmer of anticipation dancing in her gaze. "The future lies before us," she echoed, before gracefully leaping down from their vantage point.
As she descended, a surge of life radiated from her being, a soothing balm that healed the wounded and revitalized the weary. For a moment, Krasus stood in awe, his surprise giving way to admiration as he watched her selflessly tend to the battlefield.
Shaking his head with a wistful smile, Krasus turned to join the others in the relentless assault against the approaching frost wyrms, heartened by the unwavering resolve of his beloved queen and the boundless strength of their united purpose.
~~~~
Velanara grunted as she pushed away another undead abomination, her muscles straining with the effort before she swiftly cleaved it in half with a deft stroke of her blade. Surveying the chaotic scene around her, she nodded to herself in satisfaction. The Sentinels of Light were proving their mettle, their honed teamwork evident in the seamless coordination born of relentless drills imposed by both her and Liadrin.
Their collective resolve and unyielding determination shone like beacons amidst the darkness, propelling them forward with unwavering purpose.
Initially, Velanara had been taken aback when Velen approached her, asking her to join this newly formed order. Having been a part of his honor guard for so long, she couldn't help but feel a pang of anxiety, fearing that she had somehow faltered and was now being dismissed.
Thankfully, Velen swiftly allayed her fears, explaining the vital role he envisioned for this order in the survival of their world. He saw potential in her, a potential that transcended her role as a mere guardian.
As she approached the Matriarch of the order, Velanara found herself under a scrutinizing gaze that caught her off guard. Liadrin's discerning eyes seemed to pierce through her very soul, undeterred even by the reassurances of the Light. No, Liadrin took measure of each individual on her own terms.
Questions upon questions, misdirections, lies, and truths – Liadrin subjected every aspirant to a battery of tests. She tempted them with promises of power, glory, wealth, and pleasures, and those who failed... Velanara winced as she recalled the sight of Liadrin personally cutting down one who had succumbed to deceit and deception.
Later, Velanara learned of the insidious threat that had lurked within their midst – a sect of demon worshippers who had sought to infiltrate and corrupt the order for their own nefarious ends. Liadrin's swift and decisive action had eradicated the threat in a single stroke, their treacherous ambitions laid bare before Prince Kael'Thas and Prophet Velen.
Yet, even this had been a test orchestrated by Liadrin, a test not just for the aspirants, but for the leadership as well. In Liadrin's eyes, the insidious tendrils of evil and corruption could be found lurking in the darkest corners of every soul, and it was the duty of the order to safeguard their world from such malevolence.
Velanara grappled with conflicting emotions, feeling torn between admiration and apprehension at Liadrin's zealous devotion. When she voiced her concerns to Prophet Velen, his laughter caught her off guard. Amidst the echoes of his laughter, he offered a perspective that challenged her preconceptions.
"Why do you think I asked you to join them?" Velen's words resonated with a profound wisdom, shaking Velanara to her core. In that moment, she realized the weight of responsibility that had been entrusted to her, a responsibility that transcended her doubts and fears.
As a broken man once said - The time has come! The moment is at hand!
Let's hope they are prepared.
That said there is three extra chapters on my Patreon So if you want to read ahead that is the place.
That said the story will most likely end by chapter 34 or 35, depending on how I write it.
The Radiance's Follower
The Radiance is best.
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Kordelius
Things die. Let them.
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Better a story be finished then a good story remain in a limbo.
Ayashi
Connoisseur.
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Absolutely. Even a rushed ending is better than a fic dead hallway through the climax of the story.
Chapter 31
Kordelius
Things die. Let them.
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Silently he observed as the living pushed back against the tide of the undead. His cloak billowed in the wind, a silhouette against the chaos unfolding before him. Step by step, the defenders gained ground, their determination a stark contrast to the relentless advance of the undead hordes. Despite the casualties mounting among their ranks, their resolve remained unyielding.
From his vantage point, he witnessed the flurry of magic unleashed upon the battlefield. Flames erupted, ice shards pierced through the air, arcane energies crackled, and radiant light pierced the darkness. The explosions and clashes of power rent the air, each spell a testament to the desperation of the living to repel the encroaching darkness. Yet, for every spell cast, there was a sinister counter, as necrotic energies surged forth, accompanied by flames and frost from the undead.
But amidst the chaos, he remained a silent observer, his features hidden beaneath his armor from those who fought below.
"Will you not join them, in this pivotal moment?" A voice, melodious and accompanied by the soft tinkling of crystals, whispered in his ear, reminiscent of the delicate chiming of crystalline bells. "Have they not proved their mettle to you?" The question lingered in the air, its gentle tone masking a subtle challenge veiled in genuine concern, as the voice penetrated through the silence that enveloped him.
He listened, his gaze fixed upon the battlefield below, where the clash between life and death raged on.
Finally, he moved, a subtle shift in the stillness, raising his arm as if in deliberation. His gaze lingered momentarily on his hand, fingers tracing an unseen pattern, before lifting both arm and head to the heavens above.
For a suspended moment, nothing changed, save for the faint stirring of anticipation in the air. Then, as if in response to his silent invocation, the clouds parted, revealing the radiant glow concealed behind. Light, pure and resplendent, burst forth, cascading in brilliant beams towards the earth below.
The first to catch sight of this celestial intervention were the battling dragons, their aerial skirmish momentarily forgotten as they beheld the luminous spectacle unfolding before them.
As the radiant beams struck the undead horrors of the scourge, a miraculous transformation ensued. Where once there had been abominations of decay and death, now there was naught but vapor, consumed utterly by the cleansing fire of the divine light. Those among the living caught in its embrace felt a surge of vitality coursing through their veins, wounds closing and strength returning as if touched by the hand of providence itself.
As the beams of light finally made contact with the earth, the undead horde faltered and fell in droves, unable to withstand the overwhelming power of the divine radiance. Across the battlefield, the living halted in disbelief, their shock palpable as they beheld the miraculous scene unfolding before them. The seemingly unstoppable tide of the undead was swiftly swept away, vanquished by the sheer force of the Light.
But the miracle did not end there. Amidst the chaos and devastation, fallen comrades began to stir, rising once more not as soulless minions of death, but as living, breathing beings restored to life. Their eyes widened in wonder as they beheld their healed bodies, wounds that had once sealed their fates now miraculously restored.
In unison, their gaze turned towards the peak, where they knew he stood, his unseen presence now a beacon of hope and inspiration. Hearts swelled with gratitude and admiration, their spirits uplifted by the knowledge that they were not alone in their struggle against the encroaching darkness.
With renewed vigor and determination, they pressed forward, emboldened by the light of their mysterious ally and the newfound hope that surged within their ranks. The battle was far from over, but in that moment, they knew that victory was within their grasp.
On the mountain peak, he sank to one knee, the weight of his actions bearing down upon him like a heavy burden. Exhaustion seeped into his bones, his body trembling with the strain of what he had unleashed upon the battlefield.
A wave of concern washed over him, not his own, but emanating from the ever-present companion who had journeyed by his side since the beginning. Despite the weariness that threatened to overwhelm him, he reassured the unseen presence with a voice steadied by determination. "I am fine. I still have the strength to stand."
With a determined resolve, he pushed himself upright, his gaze fixed on the task that lay ahead. "It is time to end this," he declared, his voice resolute as he took a decisive step forward. As he crashed into the ground below, a whirlwind of dust and debris enveloped him, obscuring him from view.
When the dust settled, he emerged astride his trusty steed, a majestic creature whose presence radiated strength and grace. With a firm grip on the reins, he urged the steed forward, its powerful hooves striking the ground with purpose as they set off towards the heart of the conflict.
Amidst the chaos and carnage, he rode forth, his determination unwavering as he prepared to confront the source of the darkness that threatened to engulf them all. With each stride of his mount, he drew closer to his destiny, ready to face whatever lay ahead in the name of victory.
~~~~
As Uther ascended the steps leading to the imposing doors of the Icecrown Citadel, each footfall carried the weight of destiny. His grip tightened on his mace, a symbol of righteous fury and determination, as he pressed forward, undeterred by the chaos of battle raging around him.
With practiced ease, he dispatched any undead foolish enough to stand in his path, his movements swift and decisive. The Lich King, in his arrogance, had chosen to unleash a relentless horde of minions upon them, banking on sheer numbers to overwhelm the defenders. And though they fought valiantly, the relentless onslaught threatened to tip the scales against them.
Yet, even in the face of such adversity, a glimmer of hope ignited within Uther's heart as he reflected on the intervention of the Light's Chosen. The display of power unleashed by their mysterious ally had been nothing short of awe-inspiring, a testament to the might of the divine forces at their disposal.
Witnessing the Light's Chosen command the very essence of purity and righteousness to smite their enemies filled Uther with a sense of wonder and reverence. Never before had he beheld such mastery over the forces of light, nor had he imagined wielding such power himself.
As they neared the entrance to the Icecrown Citadel, Uther's resolve hardened, fueled by the newfound hope inspired by the Light's Chosen. With each step, he drew closer to the ultimate confrontation with the Lich King, ready to face whatever darkness awaited within, bolstered by the radiant presence of their enigmatic ally.
His focus fixed on the looming entrance, a presence at his side drew his attention. Sylvanas Windrunner stood beside him, her gaze ablaze with anticipation and a simmering thirst for vengeance. He could feel the intensity radiating from her, a palpable eagerness to confront the one who had wrought devastation upon her life and homeland.
Her fingers tightened around her bow, a silent promise of retribution echoing in the air. "Soon you will face Light's Vengeance, Arthas," she growled, her words more a declaration to herself than to him. Yet, Uther heard her, understanding the depth of her desire for justice. Though their motivations differed, he could not fault her for seeking solace in the destruction of the one who had caused so much suffering.
"Yes, soon this nightmare will be over," Uther affirmed, his tone resolute as they finally reached the towering doors barring their path.
With a firm grip on his mace, Uther drew upon the boundless power of the Light, allowing it to suffuse every fiber of his being until he radiated with its brilliance. With a primal roar, he surged forward, his weapon raised high as he unleashed a devastating strike upon the barrier before them.
For a fleeting moment, a shield shimmered into existence, a feeble attempt to repel the onslaught of Light-infused fury. But it was no match for the sheer force of Uther's righteous wrath. With a thunderous crash, his mace connected with the door, shattering it into splinters and blasting the entrance wide open in a shower of debris.
As the dust settled and the echoes of his assault faded, Uther stood at the threshold of the Icecrown Citadel, his resolve unyielding as he prepared to confront the source of their torment once and for all. Beside him, Sylvanas stood ready, her gaze fixed upon the darkness that awaited within, her thirst for vengeance unquenchable.
~~~~
As Uther and Sylvanas stepped into the frigid and lifeless halls of Icecrown Citadel, a gravelly voice echoed from deeper within, its ominous tone a harbinger of the trials yet to come. "This is the beginning and the end, mortals. None may enter the master's sanctum!"
But the defiant words only served to steel their resolve, fueling their determination to defy the darkness that lurked within. Without hesitation, Sylvanas and her rangers unleashed a barrage of arrows, each shaft finding its mark amidst the rushing tide of undead that sought to bar their advance. Meanwhile, Uther and his companions surged forward, their weapons gleaming in the dim light as they carved a path through the ranks of their foes.
With each step, they pressed deeper into the heart of the citadel, undeterred by the horrors that lurked in the shadows. Their resolve was unyielding, their determination unwavering as they fought tooth and nail to prove their adversary wrong.
At last, as they reached the inner sanctum, a temporary respite was won. Mages, led by the formidable Jaina Proudmoore, swiftly erected a barrier at the far end of the hallway, sealing the encroaching undead at bay. Behind the safety of the magical shield, the weary defenders regrouped, their breaths coming in ragged gasps as they prepared for the final confrontation that lay ahead.
As Uther, Sylvanas, Liadrin, Jaina Proudmoore, Bolvar Fordragon, and Varok Saurfang gathered together, the weight of their mission hung heavy in the air. Each of them, seasoned warriors and leaders in their own right, understood the gravity of the task before them.
"We need to split our forces," Uther declared, his voice grave yet resolute. "The majority will need to remain here to hold this position against any further onslaughts. But a powerful strike team must press ahead. No doubt the strongest of the Lich King's servants lie further within, and it will take great strength and courage to combat them."
His words were met with solemn nods from his companions, each one bracing themselves for the challenges that lay ahead.
"Most of Light's Vengeance will remain here," Sylvanas asserted, her tone unwavering as she addressed the group. "But myself and my best rangers will accompany those pressing ahead. We will provide support and ensure that no foe escapes our sight." None were surprised by her decision, her hatred of their foe was known to all.
As Uther's gaze shifted from Sylvanas to Bolvar and Varok, he spoke with a somber tone, addressing the need for unity even amidst the chaos of battle. "While there has been some cohesion between the forces of the Alliance and the Horde, I believe it would be for the best if you both remained here to keep order."
Bolvar and Varok exchanged a meaningful glance, silently acknowledging the wisdom in Uther's words. With a shared nod, they accepted their roles without protest, understanding the importance of maintaining stability amidst the turmoil of war.
Before further discussion could ensue, Darion and Velanara approached, their resolve evident in their determined expressions.
"I will join the assault further inside," Darion declared, his voice carrying the weight of authority born from his mastery of the legendary Ashbringer. His decision was met with silent approval from the gathered leaders, their confidence in his abilities unwavering.
Meanwhile, Liadrin turned her attention towards Velanara, assigning her a crucial task. "You will need to remain to lead the Sentinels of Light," Liadrin instructed, her voice firm yet compassionate. Velanara nodded in understanding, accepting the responsibility entrusted to her with a determined resolve.
With the division of roles settled, all eyes turned towards Jaina, who had remained silent until now. Uther hesitated for a moment, unsure of what her response would be. But before he could speak, Jaina's voice cut through the silence with unwavering determination.
"I will go," she declared, her gaze meeting Uther's with a steely resolve. "This madness needs to end. Arthas died long ago, and it is time I put him to rest."
Her words echoed with a sense of finality, a shared determination to confront the darkness that had plagued them for far too long. With their roles defined and their resolve strengthened, the companions prepared to face the looming battle ahead, united in their quest to bring an end to the tyranny of the Lich King once and for all.
So the story will conclude with chapter 35, since I posted chapter 34 on my patreon today. Chapter 35 will serve as an epilogue for the most part.
From his vantage point, he witnessed the flurry of magic unleashed upon the battlefield. Flames erupted, ice shards pierced through the air, arcane energies crackled, and radiant light pierced the darkness. The explosions and clashes of power rent the air, each spell a testament to the desperation of the living to repel the encroaching darkness. Yet, for every spell cast, there was a sinister counter, as necrotic energies surged forth, accompanied by flames and frost from the undead.
But amidst the chaos, he remained a silent observer, his features hidden beaneath his armor from those who fought below.
"Will you not join them, in this pivotal moment?" A voice, melodious and accompanied by the soft tinkling of crystals, whispered in his ear, reminiscent of the delicate chiming of crystalline bells. "Have they not proved their mettle to you?" The question lingered in the air, its gentle tone masking a subtle challenge veiled in genuine concern, as the voice penetrated through the silence that enveloped him.
He listened, his gaze fixed upon the battlefield below, where the clash between life and death raged on.
Finally, he moved, a subtle shift in the stillness, raising his arm as if in deliberation. His gaze lingered momentarily on his hand, fingers tracing an unseen pattern, before lifting both arm and head to the heavens above.
For a suspended moment, nothing changed, save for the faint stirring of anticipation in the air. Then, as if in response to his silent invocation, the clouds parted, revealing the radiant glow concealed behind. Light, pure and resplendent, burst forth, cascading in brilliant beams towards the earth below.
The first to catch sight of this celestial intervention were the battling dragons, their aerial skirmish momentarily forgotten as they beheld the luminous spectacle unfolding before them.
As the radiant beams struck the undead horrors of the scourge, a miraculous transformation ensued. Where once there had been abominations of decay and death, now there was naught but vapor, consumed utterly by the cleansing fire of the divine light. Those among the living caught in its embrace felt a surge of vitality coursing through their veins, wounds closing and strength returning as if touched by the hand of providence itself.
As the beams of light finally made contact with the earth, the undead horde faltered and fell in droves, unable to withstand the overwhelming power of the divine radiance. Across the battlefield, the living halted in disbelief, their shock palpable as they beheld the miraculous scene unfolding before them. The seemingly unstoppable tide of the undead was swiftly swept away, vanquished by the sheer force of the Light.
But the miracle did not end there. Amidst the chaos and devastation, fallen comrades began to stir, rising once more not as soulless minions of death, but as living, breathing beings restored to life. Their eyes widened in wonder as they beheld their healed bodies, wounds that had once sealed their fates now miraculously restored.
In unison, their gaze turned towards the peak, where they knew he stood, his unseen presence now a beacon of hope and inspiration. Hearts swelled with gratitude and admiration, their spirits uplifted by the knowledge that they were not alone in their struggle against the encroaching darkness.
With renewed vigor and determination, they pressed forward, emboldened by the light of their mysterious ally and the newfound hope that surged within their ranks. The battle was far from over, but in that moment, they knew that victory was within their grasp.
On the mountain peak, he sank to one knee, the weight of his actions bearing down upon him like a heavy burden. Exhaustion seeped into his bones, his body trembling with the strain of what he had unleashed upon the battlefield.
A wave of concern washed over him, not his own, but emanating from the ever-present companion who had journeyed by his side since the beginning. Despite the weariness that threatened to overwhelm him, he reassured the unseen presence with a voice steadied by determination. "I am fine. I still have the strength to stand."
With a determined resolve, he pushed himself upright, his gaze fixed on the task that lay ahead. "It is time to end this," he declared, his voice resolute as he took a decisive step forward. As he crashed into the ground below, a whirlwind of dust and debris enveloped him, obscuring him from view.
When the dust settled, he emerged astride his trusty steed, a majestic creature whose presence radiated strength and grace. With a firm grip on the reins, he urged the steed forward, its powerful hooves striking the ground with purpose as they set off towards the heart of the conflict.
Amidst the chaos and carnage, he rode forth, his determination unwavering as he prepared to confront the source of the darkness that threatened to engulf them all. With each stride of his mount, he drew closer to his destiny, ready to face whatever lay ahead in the name of victory.
~~~~
As Uther ascended the steps leading to the imposing doors of the Icecrown Citadel, each footfall carried the weight of destiny. His grip tightened on his mace, a symbol of righteous fury and determination, as he pressed forward, undeterred by the chaos of battle raging around him.
With practiced ease, he dispatched any undead foolish enough to stand in his path, his movements swift and decisive. The Lich King, in his arrogance, had chosen to unleash a relentless horde of minions upon them, banking on sheer numbers to overwhelm the defenders. And though they fought valiantly, the relentless onslaught threatened to tip the scales against them.
Yet, even in the face of such adversity, a glimmer of hope ignited within Uther's heart as he reflected on the intervention of the Light's Chosen. The display of power unleashed by their mysterious ally had been nothing short of awe-inspiring, a testament to the might of the divine forces at their disposal.
Witnessing the Light's Chosen command the very essence of purity and righteousness to smite their enemies filled Uther with a sense of wonder and reverence. Never before had he beheld such mastery over the forces of light, nor had he imagined wielding such power himself.
As they neared the entrance to the Icecrown Citadel, Uther's resolve hardened, fueled by the newfound hope inspired by the Light's Chosen. With each step, he drew closer to the ultimate confrontation with the Lich King, ready to face whatever darkness awaited within, bolstered by the radiant presence of their enigmatic ally.
His focus fixed on the looming entrance, a presence at his side drew his attention. Sylvanas Windrunner stood beside him, her gaze ablaze with anticipation and a simmering thirst for vengeance. He could feel the intensity radiating from her, a palpable eagerness to confront the one who had wrought devastation upon her life and homeland.
Her fingers tightened around her bow, a silent promise of retribution echoing in the air. "Soon you will face Light's Vengeance, Arthas," she growled, her words more a declaration to herself than to him. Yet, Uther heard her, understanding the depth of her desire for justice. Though their motivations differed, he could not fault her for seeking solace in the destruction of the one who had caused so much suffering.
"Yes, soon this nightmare will be over," Uther affirmed, his tone resolute as they finally reached the towering doors barring their path.
With a firm grip on his mace, Uther drew upon the boundless power of the Light, allowing it to suffuse every fiber of his being until he radiated with its brilliance. With a primal roar, he surged forward, his weapon raised high as he unleashed a devastating strike upon the barrier before them.
For a fleeting moment, a shield shimmered into existence, a feeble attempt to repel the onslaught of Light-infused fury. But it was no match for the sheer force of Uther's righteous wrath. With a thunderous crash, his mace connected with the door, shattering it into splinters and blasting the entrance wide open in a shower of debris.
As the dust settled and the echoes of his assault faded, Uther stood at the threshold of the Icecrown Citadel, his resolve unyielding as he prepared to confront the source of their torment once and for all. Beside him, Sylvanas stood ready, her gaze fixed upon the darkness that awaited within, her thirst for vengeance unquenchable.
~~~~
As Uther and Sylvanas stepped into the frigid and lifeless halls of Icecrown Citadel, a gravelly voice echoed from deeper within, its ominous tone a harbinger of the trials yet to come. "This is the beginning and the end, mortals. None may enter the master's sanctum!"
But the defiant words only served to steel their resolve, fueling their determination to defy the darkness that lurked within. Without hesitation, Sylvanas and her rangers unleashed a barrage of arrows, each shaft finding its mark amidst the rushing tide of undead that sought to bar their advance. Meanwhile, Uther and his companions surged forward, their weapons gleaming in the dim light as they carved a path through the ranks of their foes.
With each step, they pressed deeper into the heart of the citadel, undeterred by the horrors that lurked in the shadows. Their resolve was unyielding, their determination unwavering as they fought tooth and nail to prove their adversary wrong.
At last, as they reached the inner sanctum, a temporary respite was won. Mages, led by the formidable Jaina Proudmoore, swiftly erected a barrier at the far end of the hallway, sealing the encroaching undead at bay. Behind the safety of the magical shield, the weary defenders regrouped, their breaths coming in ragged gasps as they prepared for the final confrontation that lay ahead.
As Uther, Sylvanas, Liadrin, Jaina Proudmoore, Bolvar Fordragon, and Varok Saurfang gathered together, the weight of their mission hung heavy in the air. Each of them, seasoned warriors and leaders in their own right, understood the gravity of the task before them.
"We need to split our forces," Uther declared, his voice grave yet resolute. "The majority will need to remain here to hold this position against any further onslaughts. But a powerful strike team must press ahead. No doubt the strongest of the Lich King's servants lie further within, and it will take great strength and courage to combat them."
His words were met with solemn nods from his companions, each one bracing themselves for the challenges that lay ahead.
"Most of Light's Vengeance will remain here," Sylvanas asserted, her tone unwavering as she addressed the group. "But myself and my best rangers will accompany those pressing ahead. We will provide support and ensure that no foe escapes our sight." None were surprised by her decision, her hatred of their foe was known to all.
As Uther's gaze shifted from Sylvanas to Bolvar and Varok, he spoke with a somber tone, addressing the need for unity even amidst the chaos of battle. "While there has been some cohesion between the forces of the Alliance and the Horde, I believe it would be for the best if you both remained here to keep order."
Bolvar and Varok exchanged a meaningful glance, silently acknowledging the wisdom in Uther's words. With a shared nod, they accepted their roles without protest, understanding the importance of maintaining stability amidst the turmoil of war.
Before further discussion could ensue, Darion and Velanara approached, their resolve evident in their determined expressions.
"I will join the assault further inside," Darion declared, his voice carrying the weight of authority born from his mastery of the legendary Ashbringer. His decision was met with silent approval from the gathered leaders, their confidence in his abilities unwavering.
Meanwhile, Liadrin turned her attention towards Velanara, assigning her a crucial task. "You will need to remain to lead the Sentinels of Light," Liadrin instructed, her voice firm yet compassionate. Velanara nodded in understanding, accepting the responsibility entrusted to her with a determined resolve.
With the division of roles settled, all eyes turned towards Jaina, who had remained silent until now. Uther hesitated for a moment, unsure of what her response would be. But before he could speak, Jaina's voice cut through the silence with unwavering determination.
"I will go," she declared, her gaze meeting Uther's with a steely resolve. "This madness needs to end. Arthas died long ago, and it is time I put him to rest."
Her words echoed with a sense of finality, a shared determination to confront the darkness that had plagued them for far too long. With their roles defined and their resolve strengthened, the companions prepared to face the looming battle ahead, united in their quest to bring an end to the tyranny of the Lich King once and for all.
So the story will conclude with chapter 35, since I posted chapter 34 on my patreon today. Chapter 35 will serve as an epilogue for the most part.
Ayashi
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With protag having literally deleted the entire Scourge armies that were outdoors ICC there's no real reason why the invading army of the light would need to stop at the entrance...
Also, in canon Arthas used the Icecrown citadel as a test/filter so the small group that'd end up reaching him through all those fights were, in his words "Azeroth's greatest champions". So that he could kill and then rez them as the very best Death Knights. Shouldn't protag be aware of that "masterplan", and already worked to prevent it?
Also, in canon Arthas used the Icecrown citadel as a test/filter so the small group that'd end up reaching him through all those fights were, in his words "Azeroth's greatest champions". So that he could kill and then rez them as the very best Death Knights. Shouldn't protag be aware of that "masterplan", and already worked to prevent it?
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Kordelius
Things die. Let them.
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He didn't kill everyone just enough that his allies would not be overwhelmed. So there is plenty of undead left, they just pushed through to the Citadel.
Sure it is a trap, but what else are they supposed to do? They are here to stop him, some traps have to be sprung to get anywhere.
Chapter 32
Kordelius
Things die. Let them.
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As the attacking force turned towards the barrier to proceed further into the Icecrown Citadel, a welcome presence greeted their gazes—Light's Chosen stood before the barrier.
As stalwart as he had ever been, his presence assuaged many of their fears of facing what awaited them, but he was not alone. Another stood beside him, one whose presence was also most welcome—Alexstrasza, Queen of the Dragons.
As she looked towards Uther and those who walked behind, she gave an encouraging smile. "I would join you, I hope you do not mind." A small teasing lilt in her tone served to bring some levity to the heavy atmosphere.
Uther released a brief laugh. "Rest assured, my lady, your presence is most welcome." Alexstrasza simply smiled at his answer, while Light's Chosen merely turned his head to gaze at Uther, his helmet-covered head betraying none of what he might be feeling.
"Are you prepared?" he asked simply, as if they were not about to travel further into the citadel of horror. Uther gave a resolute nod, followed by others. "We are."
For a moment, Light's Chosen's gaze remained upon them, as if silently testing them and their resolve, before his heavy gaze turned once more forward. Without hesitation, he walked forward, ignoring the barrier that had been repelling the undead.
Under the sheer weight of his presence and power, it shattered like glass, and his radiance purged the undead that sought to use this opportunity to surge forward.
Like bugs, the undead died in droves, unable to withstand his mere presence. The others simply followed in his wake, paying no heed to the death screeches of the undead. For many, this was a sight they had witnessed before—only the truly powerful undead could withstand the mere presence of Light's Chosen, and they could see one such creature at the end of the hall.
A twisted amalgamation of bones infused with necromantic magic that allowed it to move, it was truly the stuff of nightmares. Wielding its massive axe, it was to be their first challenge in these cursed halls.
Two pathways lay to the left and right, leading further into the citadel, but it was obvious to all that they would need to deal with this creature before they could proceed. Or at least, that's what they believed. In an unexpected turn of events, Light's Chosen veered towards one of these pathways, completely ignoring the bone wraith.
"Darion, deal with this pest," was all Light's Chosen said as he continued to walk forward. Even the necrotic monstrosity seemed surprised at the sheer audacity of being ignored, for it did not immediately attempt to bar Light's Chosen's path.
"HAHAHA, what an audacious mortal you are! To ignore Lord Marrowgar." The now-named abomination cackled before changing its stance and calling out, "BONES STORM!" It began to spin with its massive axe, generating a vortex of wind as it approached Light's Chosen, who still did not deign to stop or even turn his head towards it.
Darion broke free of his stupor and, with a roar, charged the undead abomination. The Ashbringer glowed brightly in his arms, stopping Marrowgar's whirlwind of death in its tracks. Sparks flew as the blessed blade met the cursed axe, the sheer force of their clash shaking the very foundations of the hall.
Uther was the next to move, his hammer radiating with holy light as he swung it at Marrowgar's skeletal form. Each strike he landed sent ripples of divine energy through the abomination, causing it to stagger momentarily.
Jaina, standing a short distance away, began to weave her hands in intricate patterns, her eyes glowing with arcane power. She sent shards of ice towards Marrowgar. The ice struck true, coating parts of the abomination in frost and slowing its movements. She followed up with a series of fire blasts, each one melting away the frozen sections and causing bursts of steam to rise from the creature.
Liadrin, her eyes alight with the fervor of the Light, dashed forward with her blade gleaming. She struck with precision, her blade dancing around Marrowgar's defenses and finding the gaps in its bone structure. Each hit was punctuated with a burst of holy energy, weakening the necrotic bindings that held the bones together.
Alexstrasza, in her humanoid form but still exuding the presence of a dragon, unleashed a torrent of fire. Her flames engulfed Marrowgar, the intense heat causing the bones to crack and splinter. As the fire roared around the abomination, she shifted her focus, calling upon her draconic powers to heal and bolster her allies, ensuring they could continue the fight without faltering.
The battle was fierce, the air thick with the clash of metal, the roar of flames, and the crackle of arcane magic. Marrowgar fought back with relentless fury, swinging its massive axe with wild abandon. It summoned waves of bone spikes from the ground, forcing the attackers to stay on the move.
Darion, wielding the Ashbringer with unmatched skill, parried Marrowgar's strikes and cleaved through the bone spikes. "For the Light!" he bellowed, each swing of his sword accompanied by a burst of radiant energy that shattered the dark magic animating the bones.
Liadrin, ever the stalwart defender, used her shield to block Marrowgar's powerful blows, giving her allies openings to strike. "Together, we stand!" she shouted, her voice a beacon of hope amidst the chaos.
Jaina continued her barrage of spells, switching between frost to slow and fire to damage, her precision impeccable. She created barriers of ice to protect her allies and used blasts of arcane energy to destabilize Marrowgar's movements.
Uther moved with grace and deadly efficiency, his mace a blur as he struck at the joints and weak points of Marrowgar's form. "The Light's justice is swift!" he declared, each strike weakening the creature further.
Alexstrasza's flames intensified, turning from orange to a brilliant white as she called upon her full power. "Feel the wrath of the Dragonqueen!" she roared, her fire consuming Marrowgar and leaving charred, brittle bones in its wake.
The combined might of Darion, Uther, Jaina, Liadrin, and Alexstrasza proved too much for Lord Marrowgar. With a final, thunderous clash, Darion drove the Ashbringer through one of the skulls of the abomination. The necrotic energy that once sustained it vanished, leaving only bones that began to slowly turn to dust behind.
True to prediction, by the time Sylvanas and her rangers caught up to Light's Chosen at the top, the bone wraith—Lord Marrowgar—had been bested. Darion stood over the remains, pulling his sword from the last skull, the Ashbringer's glow slowly fading as the victory settled in.
Turning her attention forward, Sylvanas beheld their next obstacle. For a moment, her brows furrowed as she could not believe what she was seeing. It looked like a classroom, with rows of tables and chairs, men and women sitting in them while a Lich floated at the far end of the room like a teacher.
"What is this disturbance? You dare trespass upon this hallowed ground? This shall be your final resting place!" A raspy female voice came from the Lich as she caught sight of them.
"Students, prove your worth and be rewarded upon your victory, or be punished should you fail!" The Lich screeched, and upon her command, her students rose and turned to face Sylvanas and her rangers, who had already drawn their bows and notched an arrow.
Many did not even manage to rise before arrows of Light filled their bodies, falling to the ground dead.
"Focus fire on the students!" Sylvanas shouted. She fired an arrow, its light searing through the darkness and striking a student in the chest, causing them to crumble into dust. Her rangers followed her lead, their arrows flying true and eliminating the remaining students
Lady Deathwhisper screeched in fury. "You dare defy me? Very well, face the true power of the damned!" She gestured towards the fallen students, dark energy enveloping their bodies. "Arise, failures! Serve me in death as you did in life!"
The fallen students rose, their bodies now twisted and corrupted by necrotic energy. Their eyes glowed with an unholy light as they turned once more to face Sylvanas and her rangers.
"Do not falter!" Sylvanas commanded. She unleashed a volley of arrows, each one imbued with purifying light, striking down several of the reanimated students. Her rangers followed her lead, their arrows finding their marks with deadly precision.
Lady Deathwhisper chanted incantations, her dark magic weaving through the room and bolstering her undead minions. "You are all failures! Serve me better in death, or suffer eternal torment!"
Yet even bolstered they were no match for Sylvanas and her rangers one by one they fell till none were left, not even their dead bodies all had been purged by the Light.
Lady Deathwhisper, enraged by the swift demise of her students, began to chant, her skeletal hands weaving dark sigils in the air. "You shall all suffer the wrath of the Cult of the Damned!" she intoned, unleashing a wave of shadowy tendrils that snaked across the room towards Sylvanas and her rangers.
"Spread out!" Sylvanas commanded, her voice calm and authoritative. The rangers scattered, evading the dark tendrils with practiced agility. Sylvanas herself rolled to the side, her bow drawn and a glowing arrow already notched. She released it, the arrow streaking towards Deathwhisper, only to be deflected by a shield of dark energy.
"Foolish mortal! You think your light can pierce my defenses?" Lady Deathwhisper cackled, her voice dripping with contempt. She summoned forth an army of spectral apparitions, their ghostly forms gliding menacingly towards the rangers.
Sylvanas, undeterred, called upon her own powers. "Rangers, to me! Focus fire on the apparitions!" she ordered. Her rangers responded with alacrity, their arrows infused with light and shadow alike, tearing through the spectral forms with ease. The room filled with the sounds of ethereal wails as the apparitions were vanquished.
With the immediate threat neutralized, Sylvanas turned her focus back to Deathwhisper. "Now, while her shield is down!" she cried, loosing a barrage of arrows. Each one struck true, and the Lich's shield faltered under the relentless assault.
Lady Deathwhisper snarled, her form flickering as she struggled to maintain her magical barrier. "I will not be defeated by the likes of you!" she screeched, channeling dark energy into a massive shadow bolt aimed directly at Sylvanas.
Sylvanas stood her ground, her eyes narrowing as she waited for the right moment. Just as the shadow bolt was about to strike, she sidestepped with preternatural speed, the dark energy passing harmlessly by her. In that instant, she drew a special arrow, one imbued with the pure essence of the Light, and fired it directly at the Lich.
The arrow struck Lady Deathwhisper in the center of her chest, the holy energy exploding outwards. She shrieked in agony, her form writhing as the Light consumed her. "No! This cannot be! I am eternal!" she wailed, her voice growing weaker.
With one final gasp she rasped out. "All part of the Master's plan... Your end is inevitable..."
Sylvanas advanced, her bow still drawn, another arrow ready. "Your reign of terror ends here," she declared coldly, releasing the final arrow. It struck true, piercing the Lich's skull. The dark energy sustaining her form dissipated, and with one last, despairing scream, Lady Deathwhisper crumbled to the ground, her bones turning to dust.
The room fell silent, the echoes of the battle fading away. Sylvanas lowered her bow, her eyes sweeping over her rangers. They stood victorious, their expressions resolute. "Well done," she said simply, acknowledging their prowess.
~~~~
"Welcome to your doom, trespassers," the figure intoned, his voice echoing across the platform. "I am Lord Frostbane, commander of the Lich King's legions. You shall not proceed any further." These were the words that greeted them as they ascended even further, a death knight barring their way, the doors behind him leading further into the Icecrown Citadel.
As Uther stepped forward, his eyes narrowed as a sense of familiarity washed over him. He knew this man. His eyes shot wide as he finally recognized the boy he had trained. "Edric…" He whispered, yet his voice carried nonetheless.
The death knight regarded Uther for a moment. "Edric is dead, Lord Frostbane, commander of the Lich King's legions, is all that remains." His voice had grown colder, as if the reminder of that life he once had spurred his anger.
Uther gritted his teeth and gripped his mace tighter, righteous anger bubbling within him as once more Arthas demonstrated his monstrosity. Edric was a kind soul, so to see him twisted and warped like this just ignited his anger.
Yet as he made to step forward and finally put his tormented student to rest, Light's Chosen raised his hand and barred his path.
About to snap at him in anger, the calm voice of Light's Chosen quelled his anger. "Let me."
Calmly, he began to walk forward, his steps measured and unwavering, radiating strength and purpose.
"So you are the one." Edric, now Lord Frostbane, commented as he drew his runeblade and prepared himself. "Foolish of you to face me alone; once I deal with you, the others will lose faith and become easy pickings."
With that, he rushed at Light's Chosen, blade raised high, while the Light's Chosen still showed no worry. Light gathered in his arm, and as he raised it, a blade formed in his hand with which he blocked the strike.
Frostbane attacked again and again, each swing filled with power and delivered with precision and speed, yet none managed to connect, all blocked or parried calmly by the Light's Chosen, who had not even moved from the spot he stood.
Till with a flourish too fast to see, Frostbane's sword was sent flying, yet the death knight did not even stop for a moment and wound his fist back and let it fly.
The Light's Chosen caught his fist in his palm, his fingers winding around it, holding it in place, not allowing Frostbane to pull back. The Light's Chosen's other arm struck out, laying his palm upon Frostbane's face.
"Be free of this torment." Light's Chosen spoke as light consumed Frostbane. Once it dissipated, the twisted flesh of Lord Frostbane began to disappear, yet behind stood an apparition, it was Edric.
Who raised his head to look at the Light's Chosen, relief and gratitude etched in his face. "Thank you." He whispered in profound gratitude.
Uther had stepped up beside the Light's Chosen and looked at his once student with sorrow. "I am so sorry, my boy."
Edric spared a broken smile at Uther. "I forgive you." He spoke as he disappeared.
And onward we go.
The story is not finished on my patreon, I will post the last three chapters here after some delay.
On another note, this is now my second finished story. Woohoo
As stalwart as he had ever been, his presence assuaged many of their fears of facing what awaited them, but he was not alone. Another stood beside him, one whose presence was also most welcome—Alexstrasza, Queen of the Dragons.
As she looked towards Uther and those who walked behind, she gave an encouraging smile. "I would join you, I hope you do not mind." A small teasing lilt in her tone served to bring some levity to the heavy atmosphere.
Uther released a brief laugh. "Rest assured, my lady, your presence is most welcome." Alexstrasza simply smiled at his answer, while Light's Chosen merely turned his head to gaze at Uther, his helmet-covered head betraying none of what he might be feeling.
"Are you prepared?" he asked simply, as if they were not about to travel further into the citadel of horror. Uther gave a resolute nod, followed by others. "We are."
For a moment, Light's Chosen's gaze remained upon them, as if silently testing them and their resolve, before his heavy gaze turned once more forward. Without hesitation, he walked forward, ignoring the barrier that had been repelling the undead.
Under the sheer weight of his presence and power, it shattered like glass, and his radiance purged the undead that sought to use this opportunity to surge forward.
Like bugs, the undead died in droves, unable to withstand his mere presence. The others simply followed in his wake, paying no heed to the death screeches of the undead. For many, this was a sight they had witnessed before—only the truly powerful undead could withstand the mere presence of Light's Chosen, and they could see one such creature at the end of the hall.
A twisted amalgamation of bones infused with necromantic magic that allowed it to move, it was truly the stuff of nightmares. Wielding its massive axe, it was to be their first challenge in these cursed halls.
Two pathways lay to the left and right, leading further into the citadel, but it was obvious to all that they would need to deal with this creature before they could proceed. Or at least, that's what they believed. In an unexpected turn of events, Light's Chosen veered towards one of these pathways, completely ignoring the bone wraith.
"Darion, deal with this pest," was all Light's Chosen said as he continued to walk forward. Even the necrotic monstrosity seemed surprised at the sheer audacity of being ignored, for it did not immediately attempt to bar Light's Chosen's path.
"HAHAHA, what an audacious mortal you are! To ignore Lord Marrowgar." The now-named abomination cackled before changing its stance and calling out, "BONES STORM!" It began to spin with its massive axe, generating a vortex of wind as it approached Light's Chosen, who still did not deign to stop or even turn his head towards it.
Darion broke free of his stupor and, with a roar, charged the undead abomination. The Ashbringer glowed brightly in his arms, stopping Marrowgar's whirlwind of death in its tracks. Sparks flew as the blessed blade met the cursed axe, the sheer force of their clash shaking the very foundations of the hall.
Uther was the next to move, his hammer radiating with holy light as he swung it at Marrowgar's skeletal form. Each strike he landed sent ripples of divine energy through the abomination, causing it to stagger momentarily.
Jaina, standing a short distance away, began to weave her hands in intricate patterns, her eyes glowing with arcane power. She sent shards of ice towards Marrowgar. The ice struck true, coating parts of the abomination in frost and slowing its movements. She followed up with a series of fire blasts, each one melting away the frozen sections and causing bursts of steam to rise from the creature.
Liadrin, her eyes alight with the fervor of the Light, dashed forward with her blade gleaming. She struck with precision, her blade dancing around Marrowgar's defenses and finding the gaps in its bone structure. Each hit was punctuated with a burst of holy energy, weakening the necrotic bindings that held the bones together.
Alexstrasza, in her humanoid form but still exuding the presence of a dragon, unleashed a torrent of fire. Her flames engulfed Marrowgar, the intense heat causing the bones to crack and splinter. As the fire roared around the abomination, she shifted her focus, calling upon her draconic powers to heal and bolster her allies, ensuring they could continue the fight without faltering.
The battle was fierce, the air thick with the clash of metal, the roar of flames, and the crackle of arcane magic. Marrowgar fought back with relentless fury, swinging its massive axe with wild abandon. It summoned waves of bone spikes from the ground, forcing the attackers to stay on the move.
Darion, wielding the Ashbringer with unmatched skill, parried Marrowgar's strikes and cleaved through the bone spikes. "For the Light!" he bellowed, each swing of his sword accompanied by a burst of radiant energy that shattered the dark magic animating the bones.
Liadrin, ever the stalwart defender, used her shield to block Marrowgar's powerful blows, giving her allies openings to strike. "Together, we stand!" she shouted, her voice a beacon of hope amidst the chaos.
Jaina continued her barrage of spells, switching between frost to slow and fire to damage, her precision impeccable. She created barriers of ice to protect her allies and used blasts of arcane energy to destabilize Marrowgar's movements.
Uther moved with grace and deadly efficiency, his mace a blur as he struck at the joints and weak points of Marrowgar's form. "The Light's justice is swift!" he declared, each strike weakening the creature further.
Alexstrasza's flames intensified, turning from orange to a brilliant white as she called upon her full power. "Feel the wrath of the Dragonqueen!" she roared, her fire consuming Marrowgar and leaving charred, brittle bones in its wake.
The combined might of Darion, Uther, Jaina, Liadrin, and Alexstrasza proved too much for Lord Marrowgar. With a final, thunderous clash, Darion drove the Ashbringer through one of the skulls of the abomination. The necrotic energy that once sustained it vanished, leaving only bones that began to slowly turn to dust behind.
True to prediction, by the time Sylvanas and her rangers caught up to Light's Chosen at the top, the bone wraith—Lord Marrowgar—had been bested. Darion stood over the remains, pulling his sword from the last skull, the Ashbringer's glow slowly fading as the victory settled in.
Turning her attention forward, Sylvanas beheld their next obstacle. For a moment, her brows furrowed as she could not believe what she was seeing. It looked like a classroom, with rows of tables and chairs, men and women sitting in them while a Lich floated at the far end of the room like a teacher.
"What is this disturbance? You dare trespass upon this hallowed ground? This shall be your final resting place!" A raspy female voice came from the Lich as she caught sight of them.
"Students, prove your worth and be rewarded upon your victory, or be punished should you fail!" The Lich screeched, and upon her command, her students rose and turned to face Sylvanas and her rangers, who had already drawn their bows and notched an arrow.
Many did not even manage to rise before arrows of Light filled their bodies, falling to the ground dead.
"Focus fire on the students!" Sylvanas shouted. She fired an arrow, its light searing through the darkness and striking a student in the chest, causing them to crumble into dust. Her rangers followed her lead, their arrows flying true and eliminating the remaining students
Lady Deathwhisper screeched in fury. "You dare defy me? Very well, face the true power of the damned!" She gestured towards the fallen students, dark energy enveloping their bodies. "Arise, failures! Serve me in death as you did in life!"
The fallen students rose, their bodies now twisted and corrupted by necrotic energy. Their eyes glowed with an unholy light as they turned once more to face Sylvanas and her rangers.
"Do not falter!" Sylvanas commanded. She unleashed a volley of arrows, each one imbued with purifying light, striking down several of the reanimated students. Her rangers followed her lead, their arrows finding their marks with deadly precision.
Lady Deathwhisper chanted incantations, her dark magic weaving through the room and bolstering her undead minions. "You are all failures! Serve me better in death, or suffer eternal torment!"
Yet even bolstered they were no match for Sylvanas and her rangers one by one they fell till none were left, not even their dead bodies all had been purged by the Light.
Lady Deathwhisper, enraged by the swift demise of her students, began to chant, her skeletal hands weaving dark sigils in the air. "You shall all suffer the wrath of the Cult of the Damned!" she intoned, unleashing a wave of shadowy tendrils that snaked across the room towards Sylvanas and her rangers.
"Spread out!" Sylvanas commanded, her voice calm and authoritative. The rangers scattered, evading the dark tendrils with practiced agility. Sylvanas herself rolled to the side, her bow drawn and a glowing arrow already notched. She released it, the arrow streaking towards Deathwhisper, only to be deflected by a shield of dark energy.
"Foolish mortal! You think your light can pierce my defenses?" Lady Deathwhisper cackled, her voice dripping with contempt. She summoned forth an army of spectral apparitions, their ghostly forms gliding menacingly towards the rangers.
Sylvanas, undeterred, called upon her own powers. "Rangers, to me! Focus fire on the apparitions!" she ordered. Her rangers responded with alacrity, their arrows infused with light and shadow alike, tearing through the spectral forms with ease. The room filled with the sounds of ethereal wails as the apparitions were vanquished.
With the immediate threat neutralized, Sylvanas turned her focus back to Deathwhisper. "Now, while her shield is down!" she cried, loosing a barrage of arrows. Each one struck true, and the Lich's shield faltered under the relentless assault.
Lady Deathwhisper snarled, her form flickering as she struggled to maintain her magical barrier. "I will not be defeated by the likes of you!" she screeched, channeling dark energy into a massive shadow bolt aimed directly at Sylvanas.
Sylvanas stood her ground, her eyes narrowing as she waited for the right moment. Just as the shadow bolt was about to strike, she sidestepped with preternatural speed, the dark energy passing harmlessly by her. In that instant, she drew a special arrow, one imbued with the pure essence of the Light, and fired it directly at the Lich.
The arrow struck Lady Deathwhisper in the center of her chest, the holy energy exploding outwards. She shrieked in agony, her form writhing as the Light consumed her. "No! This cannot be! I am eternal!" she wailed, her voice growing weaker.
With one final gasp she rasped out. "All part of the Master's plan... Your end is inevitable..."
Sylvanas advanced, her bow still drawn, another arrow ready. "Your reign of terror ends here," she declared coldly, releasing the final arrow. It struck true, piercing the Lich's skull. The dark energy sustaining her form dissipated, and with one last, despairing scream, Lady Deathwhisper crumbled to the ground, her bones turning to dust.
The room fell silent, the echoes of the battle fading away. Sylvanas lowered her bow, her eyes sweeping over her rangers. They stood victorious, their expressions resolute. "Well done," she said simply, acknowledging their prowess.
~~~~
"Welcome to your doom, trespassers," the figure intoned, his voice echoing across the platform. "I am Lord Frostbane, commander of the Lich King's legions. You shall not proceed any further." These were the words that greeted them as they ascended even further, a death knight barring their way, the doors behind him leading further into the Icecrown Citadel.
As Uther stepped forward, his eyes narrowed as a sense of familiarity washed over him. He knew this man. His eyes shot wide as he finally recognized the boy he had trained. "Edric…" He whispered, yet his voice carried nonetheless.
The death knight regarded Uther for a moment. "Edric is dead, Lord Frostbane, commander of the Lich King's legions, is all that remains." His voice had grown colder, as if the reminder of that life he once had spurred his anger.
Uther gritted his teeth and gripped his mace tighter, righteous anger bubbling within him as once more Arthas demonstrated his monstrosity. Edric was a kind soul, so to see him twisted and warped like this just ignited his anger.
Yet as he made to step forward and finally put his tormented student to rest, Light's Chosen raised his hand and barred his path.
About to snap at him in anger, the calm voice of Light's Chosen quelled his anger. "Let me."
Calmly, he began to walk forward, his steps measured and unwavering, radiating strength and purpose.
"So you are the one." Edric, now Lord Frostbane, commented as he drew his runeblade and prepared himself. "Foolish of you to face me alone; once I deal with you, the others will lose faith and become easy pickings."
With that, he rushed at Light's Chosen, blade raised high, while the Light's Chosen still showed no worry. Light gathered in his arm, and as he raised it, a blade formed in his hand with which he blocked the strike.
Frostbane attacked again and again, each swing filled with power and delivered with precision and speed, yet none managed to connect, all blocked or parried calmly by the Light's Chosen, who had not even moved from the spot he stood.
Till with a flourish too fast to see, Frostbane's sword was sent flying, yet the death knight did not even stop for a moment and wound his fist back and let it fly.
The Light's Chosen caught his fist in his palm, his fingers winding around it, holding it in place, not allowing Frostbane to pull back. The Light's Chosen's other arm struck out, laying his palm upon Frostbane's face.
"Be free of this torment." Light's Chosen spoke as light consumed Frostbane. Once it dissipated, the twisted flesh of Lord Frostbane began to disappear, yet behind stood an apparition, it was Edric.
Who raised his head to look at the Light's Chosen, relief and gratitude etched in his face. "Thank you." He whispered in profound gratitude.
Uther had stepped up beside the Light's Chosen and looked at his once student with sorrow. "I am so sorry, my boy."
Edric spared a broken smile at Uther. "I forgive you." He spoke as he disappeared.
And onward we go.
The story is not finished on my patreon, I will post the last three chapters here after some delay.
On another note, this is now my second finished story. Woohoo
Kordelius
Things die. Let them.
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I think you misunderstood why he faced the Deathknight. It wasn't out of anger, it was pity.
P.S. Why is the website so laggy lately?
Ayashi
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Before the Abiter gets nuked the shadowlands were kinda okay-ish afterlife. You're only supposed to go to The Maw if you are an irremediable monster after all...
Kordelius
Things die. Let them.
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Ye alive or dead, the Warcraft universe isn't exactly a nice place.
It was a working system I suppose is one way to call it. Is good or bad? Well like everything else it had it's bad and good stuff, perfection after all doesn't exist.
Thing is I had intended to cover Shadowlands in a sort of sequel, but it probably won't happen.
Ayashi
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I haven't gone deep in SL Lore but from I could tell, originally the mortal souls would either get a second life if they aligned with one of the Four Covenants, or they'd slowly go to sleep until their souls dissipated into energy.
Sure it's not "Paradise™ for everyone" that some religions try to sell you, but it's faaaar from anything Dark or Grimm for anyone... aside from those that got the Maw, but those are supposed to be deserving that Hell.
If you want a sequel there's a much more amusing tidbit on WoW Lore coming right up: Arathi's Light Emperor (which IMO a WH 40k God Emperor of Mankind expy, though if Blizz actually does make the a new playable race/class as Space Marines I just might re-sub!)
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Kordelius
Things die. Let them.
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Never played SL so all I know about Lore is some yt videos. The covenant system by itself seems like a somewhat fair system with Maw serving as the actual hell, but it all went out of whack obviously.
Personal problem is that the Kirian (not sure if the right name) basically delete your memories. While the Vampire faction are just torturing you to drain you, fits thematically but fuck that haha.
Maldraxxus seems interesting, a good place for those desiring combat. Not sure how Vashj got put into there...
Personally liked the nature place the best, forgot the name. Seems a really chill and calm place.
I will prob never return to retail wow, the whole War Within story seems fun, but I am enjoying Ff14 too much to ever go back to WoW, if i ever do it will only be on a private server, probably Ascension WoW.
Chapter 33
Kordelius
Things die. Let them.
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As they walked through the door guarded by Lord Frostbane, a vast circular room with three distinct hallways leading away from it came into view, each no doubt holding more of the Lich King's most powerful minions.
But the most noticeable feature was the platform held by four walkways above a yawning abyss.
It was obvious, even to those with no magical knowledge, that the space in this place had been warped. There was no telling how truly large all of this was.
Jaina was the first to notice the inactive teleportation pad in the middle of the platform. She furrowed her brows as she glanced at the three hallways.
"You are correct," Light's Chosen spoke up, confirming her suspicions, which made the others turn to him and then to Jaina, noticing that he was gazing at her.
"About what?" Uther was the one to ask the question on everyone else's mind.
"We need to kill whoever awaits us in all these hallways to unlock the portal to Arthas," Jaina explained, gesturing at the inactive teleportation pad and then the hallways.
Grimaces crossed the faces of the others. Already they had witnessed monstrous things, but there was no doubt in their minds that they would witness more.
Still, a pressing matter remained: there were three hallways, and while they were not accosted now, should they choose to depart as a group for one, they could get pincered from behind.
Light's Chosen raised his arm and pointed at the left hallway. "Putricide, the one who developed all ways to spread the plague and his plagued abominations, lies there."
His arm moved to the hallway across from them. "The San'layn, the elves left behind during Illidan's failed assault upon Icecrown, now a vampiric darkfallen sect of once proud High Elves serving the Lich King."
And finally, he pointed to the right. "Valithria, who can still be saved, and Sindragosa, whose bones Arthas raised from the frozen ice of Icecrown."
Each had a different reaction to his words, especially when he mentioned who or what could be found there. At first, there was the surprise that he knew all this, but then his words settled in their minds.
Alexstrasza's head shot towards the right upon hearing of dragons being there, especially Valithria, who could still be saved, and sadness upon hearing Sindragosa's name and learning that her rest had been disturbed.
As for Sylvanas, her anger was twofold: one at Putricide for the horrific things he had done, and another anger filled with sadness for the San'layn, who had been twisted by Arthas in his service. She knew that pain well.
Liadrin had bowed her head and closed her eyes, saying a silent prayer, but she had long since hardened her heart, expecting something of the sort. The Light had warned her that she would find a pain most powerful in these cursed halls.
As for Uther and Darion, they simply set their jaws. Sadly, none of this surprised them. It simply reaffirmed their desire to see this through once and for all.
"Choose your paths," Light's Chosen spoke once they had absorbed his previous words.
Unsurprisingly, Alexstrasza pivoted to the right with Uther signaling for some others to join her. Surprisingly, Darion also joined her.
"I will deal with Putricide. The plague cannot touch me or my rangers," Sylvanas announced as her steps began to take her toward her goal.
Uther spared a glance at Jaina and Liadrin before walking after her. "I will join you. The Light will protect me." A radiant glow surrounded him at his words.
Liadrin and Jaina shared a glance and a mirthless smirk with each other. "Guess that means we will deal with my dark and fallen brethren together," Liadrin remarked.
The first thing to greet Sylvanas and Uther was a monstrously large and plague-ridden… dog. It was a dog, warped and twisted, now naught but an abomination.
A sneer crossed Sylvanas's face; she had faced similar creatures in Naxxramas. "Do not let the spores touch you," she called out to Uther. She could not be sure if this one could do the same, but it did not hurt to be prepared.
In the end, she worried for naught. The beast fell much easier than the one they had faced before, yet it was just a sign of things to come.
Soon, they came upon a door with stairs behind it, yet it would not open. A glance at the two hallways on either side led them to assume that a similar way barred their path. They had to clear out the two hallways.
They could not afford to split any more, so they would have to be careful of attacks from behind.
Traversing one of the hallways, they came upon another door. This one opened before them, even if they could have wished it didn't. For what greeted them inside was the stuff of nightmares, a creature stitched together with flesh and parts of many others.
A single glance at it would turn the stomach of anyone. Fortunately for Sylvanas and her rangers, undeath had numbed them to such sights, yet even so, she could not help the disgust she felt at the sight of it.
"Horrific," Uther muttered from beside her. A glance showed his disgust and anger at what was before him.
"YOU! You killed Precious! You DIE!" A childlike voice came from the abomination, just further horrifying those that beheld it.
As Uther raised his mace and prepared to attack, Sylvanas spotted the upper floor where a figure lurked—Putricide, no doubt. The door shutting behind them made her curse, but for now, they had to deal with this abomination.
Rothface lumbered forward, its massive stitched limbs dragging grotesquely across the floor. Uther surged ahead, his mace glowing with the Light, striking Rothface's chest with a forceful blow. The creature staggered but retaliated with a sweeping backhand, which Uther narrowly dodged.
"Focus fire on its joints!" Sylvanas commanded, her voice unwavering. She loosed a flurry of arrows, each one glowing with the holy light that suffused her and her rangers.
The arrows struck true, embedding in Rothface's knees and shoulders. The abomination roared in pain, a guttural, disturbing sound that echoed through the chamber. Sylvanas's rangers followed her lead, their arrows illuminating the grotesque figure with radiant bursts.
Uther saw an opening and rushed in, smashing his mace into Rothface's knee. The abomination stumbled, one leg giving out beneath its massive weight. Seizing the advantage, Sylvanas fired a precise shot into the creature's eye, blinding it and sending it into a frenzied rage.
Rothface lashed out blindly, swinging its arms in wide arcs. One of Sylvanas's rangers was caught in the path, the blow sending him crashing into the wall. The ranger struggled to his feet, light emanating from his wounds as he began to heal.
"We need to end this!" Uther shouted, dodging another wild swing. He channeled the Light, his entire form glowing with holy energy. "Sylvanas, now!"
Sylvanas nodded, her eyes narrowing in determination. She drew back an arrow, light gathering around it until it blazed like a miniature sun. She aimed for the creature's heart, or where its heart should be, and released.
The arrow flew straight and true, piercing Rothface's chest. Light exploded from the impact, engulfing the abomination in a radiant inferno. Rothface's roar was cut short as the light consumed it, the grotesque body disintegrating into ash and dust.
Breathing heavily, Sylvanas lowered her bow, her eyes scanning the chamber for any further threats. Uther stepped forward, his mace still glowing, but the room remained silent.
From the upper floor, a mocking laugh echoed. Putricide, watching the battle with glee, clapped his hands slowly. "Well done, well done! But you're not finished yet. There's much more fun to be had!"
Sylvanas glared up at him, her hands tightening around her bow. "Your time will come, Putricide," she vowed. "We will see to that."
Uther stepped beside her, his presence a steadying force. "One abomination down," he said. "Let's keep moving. We have much to do."
With grim determination, they prepared to face the next challenge, knowing that their mission had only just begun.
~~~~
After dealing with Festergut, their path to Putricide was at last open. The battles against both Rothface and Festergut had made them expend some of their strength, yet they could not stop now.
No, they had to finish this once and for all.
Ascending the stairs, they entered Putricide's laboratory of nightmares. Vials filled with all sorts of concoctions cluttered the tables around the room. The madman himself stood with his back turned toward them, mixing something at the table in front of him.
"Yes! Yes, yes, this will do nicely, hahaha," he gleefully spoke to himself before turning to face them.
"Good news, everyone! I think I've perfected a plague that will destroy all life on Azeroth!" he gloated, laughing maniacally while holding the vial in his hand, which shattered the next moment as Sylvanas loosed an arrow at it.
A horrific scream tore from Putricide's mouth as his own creation burned his arm.
Rage twisted Putricide's features as he clutched his scorched arm. "You dare! I'll turn you all into twisted minions of my own design!" he shrieked, grabbing several vials from the table and hurling them to the ground. A toxic cloud erupted, filling the room with a noxious green haze.
Sylvanas and her rangers, their undead nature shielding them from the plague's effects, moved forward unflinchingly. Uther, bathed in a radiant aura, channeled the Light to protect himself from the miasma. His eyes were locked on Putricide, determination burning within them.
"Rangers, fan out!" Sylvanas commanded, her voice sharp and clear. The rangers spread out, firing holy-infused arrows at Putricide, who danced nimbly around the room, dodging the projectiles with surprising agility.
Putricide retaliated, uncorking a flask and downing its contents in one gulp. His muscles bulged grotesquely, and his skin turned a sickly shade of green. "Feel the power of my alchemical prowess!" he bellowed, lunging forward with newfound strength.
He swung a massive, alchemically enhanced fist at Uther, who blocked the blow with his glowing shield, the impact reverberating through the chamber. Uther pushed back, his mace radiating holy light as he struck at Putricide's torso, eliciting a howl of pain from the mad scientist.
"Ooze, come to me!" Putricide screeched, throwing another vial to the ground. From the bubbling liquid emerged several green oozes, their gelatinous forms undulating as they slithered towards the group.
Sylvanas, eyes narrowed with focus, loosed a volley of arrows, each one piercing an ooze and causing it to writhe and dissolve. Her rangers followed suit, their combined assault dismantling the oozes before they could reach them.
Undeterred, Putricide hurled more vials, summoning larger, more menacing oozes that surged forward with greater speed. Uther stepped up, channeling the Light to create a barrier around him and his allies. The oozes slammed against the barrier, sizzling as the holy energy burned them away.
"You can't stop my creations!" Putricide roared, downing another vial. His form shifted, growing even more monstrous as pustules erupted across his skin, leaking noxious fluids.
Sylvanas darted forward, her blades flashing with holy light as she slashed at Putricide. He retaliated, swinging a massive, malformed arm at her. She nimbly dodged, her movements a blur as she struck again and again, her attacks precise and relentless.
Uther joined the fray, his mace crashing into Putricide's side with a resounding crack. The mad scientist staggered, his eyes wild with fury. "You will all perish in agony!" he screamed, hurling a final vial at the ground.
A massive explosion of green gas filled the room, but the Light's protection and their undead resilience shielded them from its effects. With a final, desperate roar, Putricide lunged at Uther, only to be met with a crushing blow from his mace.
Putricide fell to the ground, writhing and gasping. Sylvanas stood over him, her eyes cold and unforgiving. "Your reign of terror ends here," she declared, plunging her blade into his chest.
The room fell silent as Putricide's twisted form went limp. Sylvanas and Uther exchanged a grim nod, the battle won but the war far from over.
~~~~
Alexstrasza hurried down the hallway, determined to reach Valithria before it was too late. Too many dragons had already been twisted by the designs of the Scourge, and she would not allow another to fall!
Once she stepped foot in the chamber and saw the chained green dragon being assaulted, she flooded the room with her power, burning the attackers to cinders.
Her hurried steps took her to Valithria's weakened form. Weakly, Valithria opened her eye to see who had given her a moment's reprieve, but upon beholding Alexstrasza herself, her eyes shot open. "M-my... Queen. You should not be here! Flee this accursed place!"
Alexstrasza laid a gentle hand upon her head and allowed the healing power of the red dragonflight to fill Valithria. Even as steps heralded the arrival of more enemies.
Alexstrasza spared a glance at Darion. "She is in bad shape. I must devote my attention to healing her." Darion nodded resolutely. "Fear not, we will deal with these pests."
Darion turned to the others. "Protect them at all costs! Let no cursed abomination reach them!" A roar answered his words as they all prepared to push back and protect the dragons.
Darion's grip tightened around the Ashbringer, its blade glowing with holy light. He positioned himself at the forefront, his eyes scanning the room for incoming threats. The ground trembled as more Scourge poured into the chamber, their grotesque forms eager to strike.
"Hold the line!" Darion shouted, raising the Ashbringer high. Its radiance bolstered the morale of his allies, casting a comforting light amidst the encroaching darkness.
Alexstrasza knelt beside Valithria, her hands glowing with a warm, red light. "Focus on my voice, Valithria," she murmured, her tone soothing. "You are safe now. Let my strength restore you."
Valithria closed her eyes, a soft sigh escaping her lips as Alexstrasza's healing power coursed through her.
The first wave of enemies crashed against Darion and his defenders. With a fierce battle cry, Darion swung the Ashbringer, its divine edge cleaving through undead flesh with ease. Behind him, the other defenders, a mix of seasoned warriors and resilient survivors, fought with unyielding determination.
"Don't let them through!" Darion roared, parrying a blow from a ghoul and swiftly decapitating it. He glanced back briefly, ensuring Alexstrasza was undisturbed in her healing efforts. The sight of her calm focus amidst the chaos steeled his resolve.
A particularly large abomination barreled towards them, its multiple arms flailing wildly. Darion stepped forward, meeting its charge head-on. The Ashbringer clashed with the abomination's crude weapons, sparks flying from the impact.
"Die, monstrosity!" Darion shouted, pushing back with all his might. He ducked under a sweeping strike and drove the Ashbringer deep into the creature's belly. Holy light surged from the blade, consuming the abomination from within. It let out a gurgling roar before collapsing into a heap of rotting flesh.
Behind Darion, the defenders fought valiantly, their coordinated strikes keeping the relentless tide at bay. Arrows flew, spells crackled, and steel clashed against bone as they held their ground. The air was thick with the stench of decay and the cries of battle.
Darion's eyes caught movement from the corner of the room. A necromancer, shrouded in dark robes, chanted ominously, summoning more undead to the fray. "We've got a summoner!" he yelled, pointing the Ashbringer towards the threat. "Take him down!"
A group of rangers broke off from the main defense, their arrows aimed true. The necromancer, realizing the danger, tried to retreat but was struck down before he could escape. With his death, the flow of new undead slowed, giving the defenders a momentary reprieve.
Alexstrasza's voice was steady, unwavering, as she continued to heal Valithria. "Stay with me, Valithria. We need your strength," she urged softly, her hands never ceasing their gentle glow.
Darion stood at the center of the battle, the Ashbringer a beacon of hope. He swung it in wide arcs, each strike a burst of holy energy that purified the corrupted foes. Sweat and blood mingled on his brow, but he fought on, driven by a fierce determination to protect the dragons behind him.
"Push them back! For Azeroth!" Darion's rallying cry echoed through the chamber, inspiring his comrades to press the attack.
Gradually, the tide began to turn. The undead forces, deprived of reinforcements, were whittled down. The defenders, though weary, fought with renewed vigor, their spirits lifted by the sight of the Ashbringer cutting through their enemies.
Finally, the last of the Scourge fell, and the chamber grew quiet save for the labored breathing of the warriors. Darion lowered the Ashbringer, his gaze turning to Alexstrasza.
"How is she?" he asked, his voice steady despite the exhaustion.
Alexstrasza looked up, a gentle smile on her lips. "She will recover. Your bravery has given us the time we needed."
Darion nodded, relief flooding through him. "Good. Then let's move on. We still have much to do."
~~~~
After Alexstrasza helped the recovered Valithria depart through a portal to the Emerald Dream, they pressed on. Sindragosa, once consort to Malygos, awaited them.
As they came upon the next door, a vast balcony greeted them with two frostwyrms there, yet Alexstrasza did not see Sindragosa anywhere. Looking towards the horizon, she spotted her, hovering just close enough to see. Waiting, no doubt, to see if the two here would be enough or if she would need to act as well.
"We will need to put these two to rest before Sindragosa comes. I will... put her to rest myself," Alexstrasza finished with sadness in her voice. Sindragosa's life had ended in tragedy as Deathwing betrayed them, and it seemed even death had not been the end of her suffering.
Darion stepped forward, the Ashbringer held high, its radiant light casting long shadows across the balcony. "Then we waste no time. We will handle these frostwyrms."
The defenders formed a tight circle, their eyes scanning the sky as the two frostwyrms, their bones covered in a thin layer of ice, began to descend. Their chilling roars filled the air, shaking the very ground beneath their feet.
Alexstrasza's eyes narrowed with determination. "Be swift, but cautious. Their icy breath can freeze you where you stand."
The frostwyrms swooped down, jaws open wide as they unleashed a torrent of frost. Darion raised the Ashbringer, a shield of holy light enveloping him and his companions, deflecting the worst of the icy barrage.
"Archers, aim for their wings!" Darion commanded. "Ground them!"
The rangers, now positioned at the edges of the balcony, unleashed a volley of arrows, each one imbued with magic. The arrows struck true, puncturing the delicate membranes of the frostwyrms' wings.
With a thunderous crash, one of the frostwyrms plummeted to the ground, its wings crippled. Darion charged forward, the Ashbringer humming with divine energy as he brought it down upon the undead dragon's skull. A blinding flash of light accompanied the strike, and the frostwyrm's head shattered into fragments of bone and ice.
The second frostwyrm, enraged, lunged at the defenders, its icy breath freezing the air around them.
Alexstrasza, her eyes blazing with draconic fury, joined the fray. She summoned flames from her breath, directing them towards the frostwyrm. The intense heat clashed with the icy undead, causing steam to rise as the frostwyrm recoiled in pain.
Darion and his defenders pressed the advantage, striking at the frostwyrm's legs and underbelly. With coordinated effort, they brought the creature down, its bones collapsing into a heap of ice and dust.
As the last of the frostwyrms fell, a heavy silence descended upon the balcony. Alexstrasza took a deep breath, her gaze shifting to Sindragosa, who still hovered in the distance, watching.
"It is time," Alexstrasza said softly, her voice carrying the weight of millennia. "I must face her."
Darion nodded, stepping back to give the Dragon Queen room. "We will be here if you need us."
Alexstrasza stepped forward to the edge of the balcony, her form shifting to that of a majestic red dragon. Her wings unfurled, and with a powerful leap, she took to the sky, flying towards Sindragosa.
The two dragons, one of fire and life, the other of ice and death, circled each other in the air. Sindragosa let out a roar, her voice filled with anguish and fury. "Alexstrasza! You are fools to have come to this place! The icy winds of Northrend will consume your souls!"
Alexstrasza's voice, though draconic, was gentle and filled with sorrow. "Sindragosa, my sister. I come to end your suffering."
With that, the two dragons clashed. Sindragosa's icy breath met Alexstrasza's flames in a violent explosion of steam. Claws and teeth, fire and ice, the two dragons fought with a ferocity that shook the very heavens.
Back on the balcony, Darion and his companions watched, ready to intervene if needed. The battle raged on, each strike from Alexstrasza filled with the hope of releasing her fallen sister from her torment.
In a final, move, Alexstrasza wrapped her body around Sindragosa, her flames engulfing them both. "Be free, Sindragosa. Find peace," she whispered.
A brilliant light enveloped the two dragons, and when it faded, only Alexstrasza remained, her eyes filled with tears.
"It is done," she said, her voice trembling. "Sindragosa is at peace."
The defenders bowed their heads in respect for the fallen dragon, and then, with renewed determination, they prepared to face the next challenge, knowing that each step brought them closer to ending the Lich King's reign of terror.
~~~~
Jaina spared a glance at Liadrin beside her. Though the woman had attempted some levity before entering this chamber, Jaina couldn't presume to know how she felt about facing these twisted versions of her own people.
Light's Chosen had not expanded much on what lay ahead, but from what little he did say, it was clear the elves they would encounter here would be monstrous.
As they entered the chamber, a pulsing red orb filled with vile magic greeted them. A voice echoed from the shadows.
"Foolish mortals. The San'layn are the Lich King's immortal soldiers! Now you shall face their might combined! Rise up, brothers, and destroy our enemies!" commanded a twisted female voice. Magic exploded from the orb as three male elves rose, a dark thread connecting them to the orb.
Jaina wasn't certain at first, but now she was sure – this was blood magic. Arthas had twisted these elves into blood-hungry creatures.
Liadrin stepped forward, her steps sure and her stance unwavering. She thrust her sword ahead and spoke with conviction. "Cursed abominations! I will put you out of your misery!" Light shone brightly from her blade.
Screams of rage erupted from the three men at her radiance. "Ah! Accursed Light! Traitorous Light! Come to make us suffer once more!" Their voices overlapped with one another in a cacophony of hatred and pain.
The female voice rang out again, filled with venom. "How dare you! You call us abominations, yet you use the same Light that forsook us in our darkest time! KILL THEM!"
Jaina, Liadrin, and the nameless men and women accompanying them readied themselves for battle against the Blood Prince Council.
The three blood princes, Valanar, Keleseth, and Taldaram, advanced with a terrifying swiftness, their forms flickering with dark energy. Jaina immediately began casting protective spells, shielding her allies from the initial onslaught of dark magic.
"Focus your attacks!" Jaina called out, her voice calm and commanding. "We need to sever their connection to that orb!"
Liadrin charged forward, her sword glowing with holy light. She swung at Valanar, who parried with a blade of blood-red energy. "You will find no mercy here!" Valanar hissed, his eyes burning with hatred.
Keleseth, wielding dark shadows, flung bolts of blood magic at the group. Jaina countered with a shield of ice, absorbing the impact and retaliating with a blast of arcane energy that sent Keleseth staggering back.
Taldaram, the third prince, summoned orbs of fire and blood, hurling them towards the group. The ground where they landed erupted in flames. Liadrin's paladins moved swiftly, using their shields to block the worst of the blasts while returning fire with their own holy magic.
As the battle raged, Jaina noticed the pulsing red orb in the center of the room seemed to be the source of the princes' power. "Liadrin! The orb! We need to destroy it!" she shouted.
Liadrin nodded, understanding immediately. She directed her forces to push the princes back, creating a path for Jaina. With the path clear, Jaina began to weave a complex spell, drawing on the power of frost and arcane.
"Protect Lady Jaina!" Liadrin commanded, her voice ringing with authority. Her paladins formed a defensive perimeter, fending off the enraged attacks of the blood princes.
The air crackled with magical energy as Jaina's spell took form. With a final gesture, she unleashed a beam of pure arcane power at the orb. The room shook as the orb shattered, the dark threads connecting the princes to it snapping violently.
The blood princes screamed in agony, their powers waning. Valanar fell to one knee, clutching his chest. "No... This cannot be!" he roared.
Liadrin seized the opportunity, charging at Valanar with her sword held high. "For the Light!" she cried, striking him down with a single, decisive blow.
Jaina turned her attention to Keleseth and Taldaram, who were now weakened and disoriented. With coordinated precision, she and Liadrin's forces pressed the attack, overwhelming the remaining princes. Keleseth fell to a barrage of holy light and arcane missiles, while Taldaram was brought low by Liadrin's relentless assault.
As the last of the blood princes fell, the chamber grew quiet, save for the heavy breathing of the victorious warriors. Jaina lowered her staff, her gaze sweeping over the fallen foes.
"It is done," Liadrin said, her voice soft but resolute. "Their torment is over."
Jaina nodded, a sense of grim satisfaction settling over her. "Let's move on."
~~~~
As they ascended the walkways behind the room, Jaina and Liadrin entered what appeared to be a throne room. There, seated on the throne, was the owner of the female voice they had heard earlier.
While the three princes they had fought before had been changed, they still looked much as they had in life. But the woman before them, Blood-Queen Lana'thel, had been transformed so completely that she possessed demonic wings and looked more like a demon than the High Elf she had once been.
"Pitiful," Lana'thel sneered as she rose from her throne. "Do you think you have achieved anything? All your efforts are in vain. Once I deal with you, I will revive them, and we will destroy all you foolish invaders. None can stand against the Lich King's might."
Her eyes burned with power and anger as she focused on Liadrin. "Your pitiful Light will not save you! It will abandon you as it did our people before. You are foolish to ever place your trust in it again."
Liadrin snorted. "Foolish? The only fool I see here is you. Calling the very abomination that brought such pain and misery upon our homeland and its people 'master.' I would rather die a thousand deaths than ever submit to such an accursed creature." In response to her words, the Light shone ever brighter around her.
She had worried that by coming to this godforsaken place her connection to the Light would be weakened, yet it was as strong as ever. Perhaps it was the simple presence of Light's Chosen that ensured this? She couldn't be certain, but she would use all the strength in her possession to put an end to this once and for all.
"That can be arranged," Blood-Queen Lana'thel spoke in a silky voice full of dark promises.
The battle began with an explosion of dark energy from Lana'thel, sending shockwaves through the chamber. Jaina and Liadrin quickly spread out, knowing that this fight would be far more challenging than the one against the three princes.
Jaina summoned a barrage of arcane missiles, aiming for Lana'thel's wings to try and ground her. Lana'thel deftly avoided the attack, her demonic wings allowing her to maneuver with terrifying speed. She countered with a wave of blood magic that Jaina barely managed to shield against.
Liadrin charged forward, her sword blazing with holy light. "By the Light, you will be purged!" she declared, swinging her blade in a powerful arc. Lana'thel met her strike with a sword conjured from blood magic, the clash of their weapons sending sparks flying.
"You think the Light can save you here?" Lana'thel hissed, her eyes glowing with malevolent energy. She unleashed a torrent of blood magic that knocked Liadrin back, but the paladin quickly recovered, her faith unshaken.
Jaina took the opportunity to launch a series of frostbolts, aiming to slow Lana'thel's movements. The blood-queen snarled as the icy spells struck her, momentarily hindering her agility. "You will not stop me!" she roared, sending a swarm of blood-infused bats at Jaina.
Jaina conjured a barrier of ice, the bats shattering against it. "We will end your reign of terror!" she shouted, her voice filled with determination. She then summoned a blizzard, the freezing winds and ice shards adding to Lana'thel's difficulties.
Liadrin pressed the attack, her strikes imbued with holy light. Each blow seemed to burn Lana'thel, her demonic form smoking where the Light touched her. "Your darkness will be vanquished!" Liadrin cried out, her faith bolstering her strength.
Lana'thel's fury grew, her attacks becoming more frenzied. She unleashed a powerful blast of blood magic, throwing both Jaina and Liadrin across the chamber. "You cannot win! The Lich King's power is absolute!" she screamed.
Struggling to her feet, Liadrin cast a quick healing spell on herself and Jaina. "We need to break her connection to the Lich King!" Jaina yelled over the din of battle. She began channeling a complex spell, gathering the energies needed for a decisive strike.
Liadrin nodded, holding off Lana'thel with a series of rapid attacks. "For the Light!" she shouted, her resolve unbroken.
As Jaina's spell reached its peak, she unleashed a massive surge of arcane energy directly at Lana'thel. The blood-queen was momentarily stunned, her connection to the Lich King visibly weakening.
"Now, Liadrin!" Jaina called out.
With a final, radiant burst of holy light, Liadrin struck Lana'thel's heart. The blood-queen let out a scream of agony as the Light consumed her, her demonic form dissolving into nothingness.
The chamber fell silent, the oppressive darkness lifting. Jaina and Liadrin stood victorious, their breaths heavy but their spirits unbroken.
"It is done," Liadrin said, her voice filled with relief. "She is finally at peace."
Jaina nodded, her gaze fixed on where Lana'thel had stood. "We must continue. The Lich King awaits, and we will stop him."
Together, they gathered their strength and prepared to press on, determined to see their mission through to the end.
But the most noticeable feature was the platform held by four walkways above a yawning abyss.
It was obvious, even to those with no magical knowledge, that the space in this place had been warped. There was no telling how truly large all of this was.
Jaina was the first to notice the inactive teleportation pad in the middle of the platform. She furrowed her brows as she glanced at the three hallways.
"You are correct," Light's Chosen spoke up, confirming her suspicions, which made the others turn to him and then to Jaina, noticing that he was gazing at her.
"About what?" Uther was the one to ask the question on everyone else's mind.
"We need to kill whoever awaits us in all these hallways to unlock the portal to Arthas," Jaina explained, gesturing at the inactive teleportation pad and then the hallways.
Grimaces crossed the faces of the others. Already they had witnessed monstrous things, but there was no doubt in their minds that they would witness more.
Still, a pressing matter remained: there were three hallways, and while they were not accosted now, should they choose to depart as a group for one, they could get pincered from behind.
Light's Chosen raised his arm and pointed at the left hallway. "Putricide, the one who developed all ways to spread the plague and his plagued abominations, lies there."
His arm moved to the hallway across from them. "The San'layn, the elves left behind during Illidan's failed assault upon Icecrown, now a vampiric darkfallen sect of once proud High Elves serving the Lich King."
And finally, he pointed to the right. "Valithria, who can still be saved, and Sindragosa, whose bones Arthas raised from the frozen ice of Icecrown."
Each had a different reaction to his words, especially when he mentioned who or what could be found there. At first, there was the surprise that he knew all this, but then his words settled in their minds.
Alexstrasza's head shot towards the right upon hearing of dragons being there, especially Valithria, who could still be saved, and sadness upon hearing Sindragosa's name and learning that her rest had been disturbed.
As for Sylvanas, her anger was twofold: one at Putricide for the horrific things he had done, and another anger filled with sadness for the San'layn, who had been twisted by Arthas in his service. She knew that pain well.
Liadrin had bowed her head and closed her eyes, saying a silent prayer, but she had long since hardened her heart, expecting something of the sort. The Light had warned her that she would find a pain most powerful in these cursed halls.
As for Uther and Darion, they simply set their jaws. Sadly, none of this surprised them. It simply reaffirmed their desire to see this through once and for all.
"Choose your paths," Light's Chosen spoke once they had absorbed his previous words.
Unsurprisingly, Alexstrasza pivoted to the right with Uther signaling for some others to join her. Surprisingly, Darion also joined her.
"I will deal with Putricide. The plague cannot touch me or my rangers," Sylvanas announced as her steps began to take her toward her goal.
Uther spared a glance at Jaina and Liadrin before walking after her. "I will join you. The Light will protect me." A radiant glow surrounded him at his words.
Liadrin and Jaina shared a glance and a mirthless smirk with each other. "Guess that means we will deal with my dark and fallen brethren together," Liadrin remarked.
The first thing to greet Sylvanas and Uther was a monstrously large and plague-ridden… dog. It was a dog, warped and twisted, now naught but an abomination.
A sneer crossed Sylvanas's face; she had faced similar creatures in Naxxramas. "Do not let the spores touch you," she called out to Uther. She could not be sure if this one could do the same, but it did not hurt to be prepared.
In the end, she worried for naught. The beast fell much easier than the one they had faced before, yet it was just a sign of things to come.
Soon, they came upon a door with stairs behind it, yet it would not open. A glance at the two hallways on either side led them to assume that a similar way barred their path. They had to clear out the two hallways.
They could not afford to split any more, so they would have to be careful of attacks from behind.
Traversing one of the hallways, they came upon another door. This one opened before them, even if they could have wished it didn't. For what greeted them inside was the stuff of nightmares, a creature stitched together with flesh and parts of many others.
A single glance at it would turn the stomach of anyone. Fortunately for Sylvanas and her rangers, undeath had numbed them to such sights, yet even so, she could not help the disgust she felt at the sight of it.
"Horrific," Uther muttered from beside her. A glance showed his disgust and anger at what was before him.
"YOU! You killed Precious! You DIE!" A childlike voice came from the abomination, just further horrifying those that beheld it.
As Uther raised his mace and prepared to attack, Sylvanas spotted the upper floor where a figure lurked—Putricide, no doubt. The door shutting behind them made her curse, but for now, they had to deal with this abomination.
Rothface lumbered forward, its massive stitched limbs dragging grotesquely across the floor. Uther surged ahead, his mace glowing with the Light, striking Rothface's chest with a forceful blow. The creature staggered but retaliated with a sweeping backhand, which Uther narrowly dodged.
"Focus fire on its joints!" Sylvanas commanded, her voice unwavering. She loosed a flurry of arrows, each one glowing with the holy light that suffused her and her rangers.
The arrows struck true, embedding in Rothface's knees and shoulders. The abomination roared in pain, a guttural, disturbing sound that echoed through the chamber. Sylvanas's rangers followed her lead, their arrows illuminating the grotesque figure with radiant bursts.
Uther saw an opening and rushed in, smashing his mace into Rothface's knee. The abomination stumbled, one leg giving out beneath its massive weight. Seizing the advantage, Sylvanas fired a precise shot into the creature's eye, blinding it and sending it into a frenzied rage.
Rothface lashed out blindly, swinging its arms in wide arcs. One of Sylvanas's rangers was caught in the path, the blow sending him crashing into the wall. The ranger struggled to his feet, light emanating from his wounds as he began to heal.
"We need to end this!" Uther shouted, dodging another wild swing. He channeled the Light, his entire form glowing with holy energy. "Sylvanas, now!"
Sylvanas nodded, her eyes narrowing in determination. She drew back an arrow, light gathering around it until it blazed like a miniature sun. She aimed for the creature's heart, or where its heart should be, and released.
The arrow flew straight and true, piercing Rothface's chest. Light exploded from the impact, engulfing the abomination in a radiant inferno. Rothface's roar was cut short as the light consumed it, the grotesque body disintegrating into ash and dust.
Breathing heavily, Sylvanas lowered her bow, her eyes scanning the chamber for any further threats. Uther stepped forward, his mace still glowing, but the room remained silent.
From the upper floor, a mocking laugh echoed. Putricide, watching the battle with glee, clapped his hands slowly. "Well done, well done! But you're not finished yet. There's much more fun to be had!"
Sylvanas glared up at him, her hands tightening around her bow. "Your time will come, Putricide," she vowed. "We will see to that."
Uther stepped beside her, his presence a steadying force. "One abomination down," he said. "Let's keep moving. We have much to do."
With grim determination, they prepared to face the next challenge, knowing that their mission had only just begun.
~~~~
After dealing with Festergut, their path to Putricide was at last open. The battles against both Rothface and Festergut had made them expend some of their strength, yet they could not stop now.
No, they had to finish this once and for all.
Ascending the stairs, they entered Putricide's laboratory of nightmares. Vials filled with all sorts of concoctions cluttered the tables around the room. The madman himself stood with his back turned toward them, mixing something at the table in front of him.
"Yes! Yes, yes, this will do nicely, hahaha," he gleefully spoke to himself before turning to face them.
"Good news, everyone! I think I've perfected a plague that will destroy all life on Azeroth!" he gloated, laughing maniacally while holding the vial in his hand, which shattered the next moment as Sylvanas loosed an arrow at it.
A horrific scream tore from Putricide's mouth as his own creation burned his arm.
Rage twisted Putricide's features as he clutched his scorched arm. "You dare! I'll turn you all into twisted minions of my own design!" he shrieked, grabbing several vials from the table and hurling them to the ground. A toxic cloud erupted, filling the room with a noxious green haze.
Sylvanas and her rangers, their undead nature shielding them from the plague's effects, moved forward unflinchingly. Uther, bathed in a radiant aura, channeled the Light to protect himself from the miasma. His eyes were locked on Putricide, determination burning within them.
"Rangers, fan out!" Sylvanas commanded, her voice sharp and clear. The rangers spread out, firing holy-infused arrows at Putricide, who danced nimbly around the room, dodging the projectiles with surprising agility.
Putricide retaliated, uncorking a flask and downing its contents in one gulp. His muscles bulged grotesquely, and his skin turned a sickly shade of green. "Feel the power of my alchemical prowess!" he bellowed, lunging forward with newfound strength.
He swung a massive, alchemically enhanced fist at Uther, who blocked the blow with his glowing shield, the impact reverberating through the chamber. Uther pushed back, his mace radiating holy light as he struck at Putricide's torso, eliciting a howl of pain from the mad scientist.
"Ooze, come to me!" Putricide screeched, throwing another vial to the ground. From the bubbling liquid emerged several green oozes, their gelatinous forms undulating as they slithered towards the group.
Sylvanas, eyes narrowed with focus, loosed a volley of arrows, each one piercing an ooze and causing it to writhe and dissolve. Her rangers followed suit, their combined assault dismantling the oozes before they could reach them.
Undeterred, Putricide hurled more vials, summoning larger, more menacing oozes that surged forward with greater speed. Uther stepped up, channeling the Light to create a barrier around him and his allies. The oozes slammed against the barrier, sizzling as the holy energy burned them away.
"You can't stop my creations!" Putricide roared, downing another vial. His form shifted, growing even more monstrous as pustules erupted across his skin, leaking noxious fluids.
Sylvanas darted forward, her blades flashing with holy light as she slashed at Putricide. He retaliated, swinging a massive, malformed arm at her. She nimbly dodged, her movements a blur as she struck again and again, her attacks precise and relentless.
Uther joined the fray, his mace crashing into Putricide's side with a resounding crack. The mad scientist staggered, his eyes wild with fury. "You will all perish in agony!" he screamed, hurling a final vial at the ground.
A massive explosion of green gas filled the room, but the Light's protection and their undead resilience shielded them from its effects. With a final, desperate roar, Putricide lunged at Uther, only to be met with a crushing blow from his mace.
Putricide fell to the ground, writhing and gasping. Sylvanas stood over him, her eyes cold and unforgiving. "Your reign of terror ends here," she declared, plunging her blade into his chest.
The room fell silent as Putricide's twisted form went limp. Sylvanas and Uther exchanged a grim nod, the battle won but the war far from over.
~~~~
Alexstrasza hurried down the hallway, determined to reach Valithria before it was too late. Too many dragons had already been twisted by the designs of the Scourge, and she would not allow another to fall!
Once she stepped foot in the chamber and saw the chained green dragon being assaulted, she flooded the room with her power, burning the attackers to cinders.
Her hurried steps took her to Valithria's weakened form. Weakly, Valithria opened her eye to see who had given her a moment's reprieve, but upon beholding Alexstrasza herself, her eyes shot open. "M-my... Queen. You should not be here! Flee this accursed place!"
Alexstrasza laid a gentle hand upon her head and allowed the healing power of the red dragonflight to fill Valithria. Even as steps heralded the arrival of more enemies.
Alexstrasza spared a glance at Darion. "She is in bad shape. I must devote my attention to healing her." Darion nodded resolutely. "Fear not, we will deal with these pests."
Darion turned to the others. "Protect them at all costs! Let no cursed abomination reach them!" A roar answered his words as they all prepared to push back and protect the dragons.
Darion's grip tightened around the Ashbringer, its blade glowing with holy light. He positioned himself at the forefront, his eyes scanning the room for incoming threats. The ground trembled as more Scourge poured into the chamber, their grotesque forms eager to strike.
"Hold the line!" Darion shouted, raising the Ashbringer high. Its radiance bolstered the morale of his allies, casting a comforting light amidst the encroaching darkness.
Alexstrasza knelt beside Valithria, her hands glowing with a warm, red light. "Focus on my voice, Valithria," she murmured, her tone soothing. "You are safe now. Let my strength restore you."
Valithria closed her eyes, a soft sigh escaping her lips as Alexstrasza's healing power coursed through her.
The first wave of enemies crashed against Darion and his defenders. With a fierce battle cry, Darion swung the Ashbringer, its divine edge cleaving through undead flesh with ease. Behind him, the other defenders, a mix of seasoned warriors and resilient survivors, fought with unyielding determination.
"Don't let them through!" Darion roared, parrying a blow from a ghoul and swiftly decapitating it. He glanced back briefly, ensuring Alexstrasza was undisturbed in her healing efforts. The sight of her calm focus amidst the chaos steeled his resolve.
A particularly large abomination barreled towards them, its multiple arms flailing wildly. Darion stepped forward, meeting its charge head-on. The Ashbringer clashed with the abomination's crude weapons, sparks flying from the impact.
"Die, monstrosity!" Darion shouted, pushing back with all his might. He ducked under a sweeping strike and drove the Ashbringer deep into the creature's belly. Holy light surged from the blade, consuming the abomination from within. It let out a gurgling roar before collapsing into a heap of rotting flesh.
Behind Darion, the defenders fought valiantly, their coordinated strikes keeping the relentless tide at bay. Arrows flew, spells crackled, and steel clashed against bone as they held their ground. The air was thick with the stench of decay and the cries of battle.
Darion's eyes caught movement from the corner of the room. A necromancer, shrouded in dark robes, chanted ominously, summoning more undead to the fray. "We've got a summoner!" he yelled, pointing the Ashbringer towards the threat. "Take him down!"
A group of rangers broke off from the main defense, their arrows aimed true. The necromancer, realizing the danger, tried to retreat but was struck down before he could escape. With his death, the flow of new undead slowed, giving the defenders a momentary reprieve.
Alexstrasza's voice was steady, unwavering, as she continued to heal Valithria. "Stay with me, Valithria. We need your strength," she urged softly, her hands never ceasing their gentle glow.
Darion stood at the center of the battle, the Ashbringer a beacon of hope. He swung it in wide arcs, each strike a burst of holy energy that purified the corrupted foes. Sweat and blood mingled on his brow, but he fought on, driven by a fierce determination to protect the dragons behind him.
"Push them back! For Azeroth!" Darion's rallying cry echoed through the chamber, inspiring his comrades to press the attack.
Gradually, the tide began to turn. The undead forces, deprived of reinforcements, were whittled down. The defenders, though weary, fought with renewed vigor, their spirits lifted by the sight of the Ashbringer cutting through their enemies.
Finally, the last of the Scourge fell, and the chamber grew quiet save for the labored breathing of the warriors. Darion lowered the Ashbringer, his gaze turning to Alexstrasza.
"How is she?" he asked, his voice steady despite the exhaustion.
Alexstrasza looked up, a gentle smile on her lips. "She will recover. Your bravery has given us the time we needed."
Darion nodded, relief flooding through him. "Good. Then let's move on. We still have much to do."
~~~~
After Alexstrasza helped the recovered Valithria depart through a portal to the Emerald Dream, they pressed on. Sindragosa, once consort to Malygos, awaited them.
As they came upon the next door, a vast balcony greeted them with two frostwyrms there, yet Alexstrasza did not see Sindragosa anywhere. Looking towards the horizon, she spotted her, hovering just close enough to see. Waiting, no doubt, to see if the two here would be enough or if she would need to act as well.
"We will need to put these two to rest before Sindragosa comes. I will... put her to rest myself," Alexstrasza finished with sadness in her voice. Sindragosa's life had ended in tragedy as Deathwing betrayed them, and it seemed even death had not been the end of her suffering.
Darion stepped forward, the Ashbringer held high, its radiant light casting long shadows across the balcony. "Then we waste no time. We will handle these frostwyrms."
The defenders formed a tight circle, their eyes scanning the sky as the two frostwyrms, their bones covered in a thin layer of ice, began to descend. Their chilling roars filled the air, shaking the very ground beneath their feet.
Alexstrasza's eyes narrowed with determination. "Be swift, but cautious. Their icy breath can freeze you where you stand."
The frostwyrms swooped down, jaws open wide as they unleashed a torrent of frost. Darion raised the Ashbringer, a shield of holy light enveloping him and his companions, deflecting the worst of the icy barrage.
"Archers, aim for their wings!" Darion commanded. "Ground them!"
The rangers, now positioned at the edges of the balcony, unleashed a volley of arrows, each one imbued with magic. The arrows struck true, puncturing the delicate membranes of the frostwyrms' wings.
With a thunderous crash, one of the frostwyrms plummeted to the ground, its wings crippled. Darion charged forward, the Ashbringer humming with divine energy as he brought it down upon the undead dragon's skull. A blinding flash of light accompanied the strike, and the frostwyrm's head shattered into fragments of bone and ice.
The second frostwyrm, enraged, lunged at the defenders, its icy breath freezing the air around them.
Alexstrasza, her eyes blazing with draconic fury, joined the fray. She summoned flames from her breath, directing them towards the frostwyrm. The intense heat clashed with the icy undead, causing steam to rise as the frostwyrm recoiled in pain.
Darion and his defenders pressed the advantage, striking at the frostwyrm's legs and underbelly. With coordinated effort, they brought the creature down, its bones collapsing into a heap of ice and dust.
As the last of the frostwyrms fell, a heavy silence descended upon the balcony. Alexstrasza took a deep breath, her gaze shifting to Sindragosa, who still hovered in the distance, watching.
"It is time," Alexstrasza said softly, her voice carrying the weight of millennia. "I must face her."
Darion nodded, stepping back to give the Dragon Queen room. "We will be here if you need us."
Alexstrasza stepped forward to the edge of the balcony, her form shifting to that of a majestic red dragon. Her wings unfurled, and with a powerful leap, she took to the sky, flying towards Sindragosa.
The two dragons, one of fire and life, the other of ice and death, circled each other in the air. Sindragosa let out a roar, her voice filled with anguish and fury. "Alexstrasza! You are fools to have come to this place! The icy winds of Northrend will consume your souls!"
Alexstrasza's voice, though draconic, was gentle and filled with sorrow. "Sindragosa, my sister. I come to end your suffering."
With that, the two dragons clashed. Sindragosa's icy breath met Alexstrasza's flames in a violent explosion of steam. Claws and teeth, fire and ice, the two dragons fought with a ferocity that shook the very heavens.
Back on the balcony, Darion and his companions watched, ready to intervene if needed. The battle raged on, each strike from Alexstrasza filled with the hope of releasing her fallen sister from her torment.
In a final, move, Alexstrasza wrapped her body around Sindragosa, her flames engulfing them both. "Be free, Sindragosa. Find peace," she whispered.
A brilliant light enveloped the two dragons, and when it faded, only Alexstrasza remained, her eyes filled with tears.
"It is done," she said, her voice trembling. "Sindragosa is at peace."
The defenders bowed their heads in respect for the fallen dragon, and then, with renewed determination, they prepared to face the next challenge, knowing that each step brought them closer to ending the Lich King's reign of terror.
~~~~
Jaina spared a glance at Liadrin beside her. Though the woman had attempted some levity before entering this chamber, Jaina couldn't presume to know how she felt about facing these twisted versions of her own people.
Light's Chosen had not expanded much on what lay ahead, but from what little he did say, it was clear the elves they would encounter here would be monstrous.
As they entered the chamber, a pulsing red orb filled with vile magic greeted them. A voice echoed from the shadows.
"Foolish mortals. The San'layn are the Lich King's immortal soldiers! Now you shall face their might combined! Rise up, brothers, and destroy our enemies!" commanded a twisted female voice. Magic exploded from the orb as three male elves rose, a dark thread connecting them to the orb.
Jaina wasn't certain at first, but now she was sure – this was blood magic. Arthas had twisted these elves into blood-hungry creatures.
Liadrin stepped forward, her steps sure and her stance unwavering. She thrust her sword ahead and spoke with conviction. "Cursed abominations! I will put you out of your misery!" Light shone brightly from her blade.
Screams of rage erupted from the three men at her radiance. "Ah! Accursed Light! Traitorous Light! Come to make us suffer once more!" Their voices overlapped with one another in a cacophony of hatred and pain.
The female voice rang out again, filled with venom. "How dare you! You call us abominations, yet you use the same Light that forsook us in our darkest time! KILL THEM!"
Jaina, Liadrin, and the nameless men and women accompanying them readied themselves for battle against the Blood Prince Council.
The three blood princes, Valanar, Keleseth, and Taldaram, advanced with a terrifying swiftness, their forms flickering with dark energy. Jaina immediately began casting protective spells, shielding her allies from the initial onslaught of dark magic.
"Focus your attacks!" Jaina called out, her voice calm and commanding. "We need to sever their connection to that orb!"
Liadrin charged forward, her sword glowing with holy light. She swung at Valanar, who parried with a blade of blood-red energy. "You will find no mercy here!" Valanar hissed, his eyes burning with hatred.
Keleseth, wielding dark shadows, flung bolts of blood magic at the group. Jaina countered with a shield of ice, absorbing the impact and retaliating with a blast of arcane energy that sent Keleseth staggering back.
Taldaram, the third prince, summoned orbs of fire and blood, hurling them towards the group. The ground where they landed erupted in flames. Liadrin's paladins moved swiftly, using their shields to block the worst of the blasts while returning fire with their own holy magic.
As the battle raged, Jaina noticed the pulsing red orb in the center of the room seemed to be the source of the princes' power. "Liadrin! The orb! We need to destroy it!" she shouted.
Liadrin nodded, understanding immediately. She directed her forces to push the princes back, creating a path for Jaina. With the path clear, Jaina began to weave a complex spell, drawing on the power of frost and arcane.
"Protect Lady Jaina!" Liadrin commanded, her voice ringing with authority. Her paladins formed a defensive perimeter, fending off the enraged attacks of the blood princes.
The air crackled with magical energy as Jaina's spell took form. With a final gesture, she unleashed a beam of pure arcane power at the orb. The room shook as the orb shattered, the dark threads connecting the princes to it snapping violently.
The blood princes screamed in agony, their powers waning. Valanar fell to one knee, clutching his chest. "No... This cannot be!" he roared.
Liadrin seized the opportunity, charging at Valanar with her sword held high. "For the Light!" she cried, striking him down with a single, decisive blow.
Jaina turned her attention to Keleseth and Taldaram, who were now weakened and disoriented. With coordinated precision, she and Liadrin's forces pressed the attack, overwhelming the remaining princes. Keleseth fell to a barrage of holy light and arcane missiles, while Taldaram was brought low by Liadrin's relentless assault.
As the last of the blood princes fell, the chamber grew quiet, save for the heavy breathing of the victorious warriors. Jaina lowered her staff, her gaze sweeping over the fallen foes.
"It is done," Liadrin said, her voice soft but resolute. "Their torment is over."
Jaina nodded, a sense of grim satisfaction settling over her. "Let's move on."
~~~~
As they ascended the walkways behind the room, Jaina and Liadrin entered what appeared to be a throne room. There, seated on the throne, was the owner of the female voice they had heard earlier.
While the three princes they had fought before had been changed, they still looked much as they had in life. But the woman before them, Blood-Queen Lana'thel, had been transformed so completely that she possessed demonic wings and looked more like a demon than the High Elf she had once been.
"Pitiful," Lana'thel sneered as she rose from her throne. "Do you think you have achieved anything? All your efforts are in vain. Once I deal with you, I will revive them, and we will destroy all you foolish invaders. None can stand against the Lich King's might."
Her eyes burned with power and anger as she focused on Liadrin. "Your pitiful Light will not save you! It will abandon you as it did our people before. You are foolish to ever place your trust in it again."
Liadrin snorted. "Foolish? The only fool I see here is you. Calling the very abomination that brought such pain and misery upon our homeland and its people 'master.' I would rather die a thousand deaths than ever submit to such an accursed creature." In response to her words, the Light shone ever brighter around her.
She had worried that by coming to this godforsaken place her connection to the Light would be weakened, yet it was as strong as ever. Perhaps it was the simple presence of Light's Chosen that ensured this? She couldn't be certain, but she would use all the strength in her possession to put an end to this once and for all.
"That can be arranged," Blood-Queen Lana'thel spoke in a silky voice full of dark promises.
The battle began with an explosion of dark energy from Lana'thel, sending shockwaves through the chamber. Jaina and Liadrin quickly spread out, knowing that this fight would be far more challenging than the one against the three princes.
Jaina summoned a barrage of arcane missiles, aiming for Lana'thel's wings to try and ground her. Lana'thel deftly avoided the attack, her demonic wings allowing her to maneuver with terrifying speed. She countered with a wave of blood magic that Jaina barely managed to shield against.
Liadrin charged forward, her sword blazing with holy light. "By the Light, you will be purged!" she declared, swinging her blade in a powerful arc. Lana'thel met her strike with a sword conjured from blood magic, the clash of their weapons sending sparks flying.
"You think the Light can save you here?" Lana'thel hissed, her eyes glowing with malevolent energy. She unleashed a torrent of blood magic that knocked Liadrin back, but the paladin quickly recovered, her faith unshaken.
Jaina took the opportunity to launch a series of frostbolts, aiming to slow Lana'thel's movements. The blood-queen snarled as the icy spells struck her, momentarily hindering her agility. "You will not stop me!" she roared, sending a swarm of blood-infused bats at Jaina.
Jaina conjured a barrier of ice, the bats shattering against it. "We will end your reign of terror!" she shouted, her voice filled with determination. She then summoned a blizzard, the freezing winds and ice shards adding to Lana'thel's difficulties.
Liadrin pressed the attack, her strikes imbued with holy light. Each blow seemed to burn Lana'thel, her demonic form smoking where the Light touched her. "Your darkness will be vanquished!" Liadrin cried out, her faith bolstering her strength.
Lana'thel's fury grew, her attacks becoming more frenzied. She unleashed a powerful blast of blood magic, throwing both Jaina and Liadrin across the chamber. "You cannot win! The Lich King's power is absolute!" she screamed.
Struggling to her feet, Liadrin cast a quick healing spell on herself and Jaina. "We need to break her connection to the Lich King!" Jaina yelled over the din of battle. She began channeling a complex spell, gathering the energies needed for a decisive strike.
Liadrin nodded, holding off Lana'thel with a series of rapid attacks. "For the Light!" she shouted, her resolve unbroken.
As Jaina's spell reached its peak, she unleashed a massive surge of arcane energy directly at Lana'thel. The blood-queen was momentarily stunned, her connection to the Lich King visibly weakening.
"Now, Liadrin!" Jaina called out.
With a final, radiant burst of holy light, Liadrin struck Lana'thel's heart. The blood-queen let out a scream of agony as the Light consumed her, her demonic form dissolving into nothingness.
The chamber fell silent, the oppressive darkness lifting. Jaina and Liadrin stood victorious, their breaths heavy but their spirits unbroken.
"It is done," Liadrin said, her voice filled with relief. "She is finally at peace."
Jaina nodded, her gaze fixed on where Lana'thel had stood. "We must continue. The Lich King awaits, and we will stop him."
Together, they gathered their strength and prepared to press on, determined to see their mission through to the end.
The Radiance's Follower
The Radiance is best.
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TFTC. Great fights as always. I guess only the Lich king is left. Final confrontation going to be easy with these much forces.
Kordelius
Things die. Let them.
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sad to see no one bothering to do the Shadowmourne questline
Ugh, don't remind me.
Thank you, it was bit of a struggle to make them good enough.
Kordelius
Things die. Let them.
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Well, thanks for your kind words.
I suppose people just do not enjoy my style of writing I guess, or maybe it's something else. Can't say really.
mango363
Transhumanist and technophile.
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I'd say it's mostly because here on QQ the nsfw part of the formus has the monopoly on QQ members attention. I'm sure if you reposted it to SB or SV you'd get more readers. Post like a chapter a day until you catch up to what's here on QQ and you're set.