War of the North
Chronicling the events of the Wrath of the Lich King
Chapter 1
The Board is Set
The city of Stormwind had been attacked as any other by the Scourge necropoli, but the people of the Alliance had suffered more from the plagued grain that had been distributed throughought Azeroth than the direct attacks. The Argent Dawn, paladins and priests of the Light, had quickly responded, moving to aid the infected. Unlike the original plague unleashed by the Cult of the Damned, this plague was curable through their spells, but over time, the plague had grown stronger and more resistant. The bodies in the towns had been piled and burned, but ghouls still swarmed across the lands.
The Argent Dawn had enlisted aid from both Horde and Alliance in Shattrath City with significant assistance from the naaru and the Royal Apothecary Society of the Undercity. The head of the Society, a Forsaken called Putress, had managed to counteract the new plague and the cure had been spread. Yet the suffering was not completely healed and many still worked feverishly to stave off the last of the sickness from the infected.
Feneril Fincahre, Knight of the Silver Hand and leader of the Shard of the Silver Hand had been gathering paladins to return to the Order under leadership of Tirion Fordring. The paladin had made a name for himself around Stormwind during the chaos, drawing attention to his growing guild and aiding in both combat and healing as best they could. As the sun climbed to its height and the chapel clock chimed noon, Feneril was escourted from the Petitioner's Chamber, along with others, to the king's audience chamber. Other notable guilds ahd come to the discussion, such as Hanstall Kierstead, Black Knight of the Order of the White Tower, Rikealus of the Hand of the Faith, Bolia and Karout of Restless Spirits, and a handful of others.
"Thank you all for coming," the commanding voice of Bolvar Fordragon filled the room. All eyes went to the paladin, who stood beside the king's seat. Varian Wrynn sat back in his seat, letting formalities pass. "Lady Whisperwind, King Bronzebeard, we humbly thank you for your presence."
"Y'knew we would come, now let's get started. This is too important for us t'be wastin' a moment on pleasantries." Magni Bronzebeard had closed the gates of Ironforge for the first time since the Second War during the plague outbreak and he had been noticeably irritable after having made the choice.
"I agree, Magni." Varian Wrynn stood as Bolvar took his seat. The king still gave a strong aura of confidence after everything that had happened under Onyxia's control and the full king's absence. To his left sat Valeera Sanguinar and Broll Bearmantle aside Tyrande Whisperwind. His right was positioned with Bolvar, King Magni, and Thorgas Anvilmar. The prophet Velen stood to the side, having chosen to stand and watch everyone's reactions rather than take a seat at the discussion. Among the guild leaders, seated at the opposite end of the table, was Jaina Proudmoore of Theramore. "Arthas has grown bold and attacked us once again. The last time the Scourge necropoli attacked, I was not in command of my senses. This time, however, I intend for us to do what we should have long ago. I propose we no longer hide behind the gates of Stormwind, the doors of Ironforge, or the defenses of Teldrassil and fight defensively. I propose that we unite our forces and strike at the Scourge in their home."
"To attack Northrend, lad?" Magni asked as if in disbelief, but there was a fire in his eyes that suggested he meant the question as a supportive declaration.
"Yes. The Lich King has been left unchallenged for far too long."
"Varian, the might of the Scourge in Northrend-" Jaina started to speak, but was interrupted.
"Has not been enough to deter the Kirin Tor to move all of Dalaran to their very gates."
"Has this had any impact on your decision to reconstruct a harbor for Stormwind, sire?" Hanstall asked.
"I have indeed been considering this course since I first learned of the Scourge attacks," the king replied. Having sought to amend past misdeeds, the king had overruled the House of Nobles by declaration of soverignty and had freed many of the Defias imprisoned in the Stockades. They were all given reparation payments and tasked with the construction of the new harbor, with a fully established contract with the city. In a time of crisis, it had been a great benefit to the morale of the city.
"Who will lead this attack?" Rikaelus asked.
"Attack? This is no attack," Stormforged spoke from beside Hanstall. "It's an invasion."
"It will be," Bolvar replied. "If we sail on Northrend, it will be an invasion. It will be a hard fought battle every step of the way. Make no mistake, this will be nothing short of a war. King Wrynn and I have discussed this at length."
Feneril listened to the discussion quietly. He noted that none seemed to disagree with Wrynn's assessment that the time to attack Northrend had come. The attrocities of the latest attack and th enew plague outbreak had everyone looking for justice, or for vengeance. Feneril had seen the horrors firsthand more times than he cared to remember, and that had been facing the Scourge in Azeroth. Everyone was now looking to face them in the land they controlled. He said nothing to deter them, knowing he was fully intent on sailing with the Alliance forces and expecting the Argent Dawn and Order of the Silver Hand would join the battle. The paladin's thoughts were drawn to the discussion again as Broll finally spoke.
"What about the Horde? Will they take up arms against Arthas?"
"I can speak with Thrall," Jaina answered.
"Regardless of their plans, we will take the fight to Arthas," Wrynn answered, seeming certain of the Aliance's course now that the other leaders had lent their agreements.
"And if this is indeed our course, we must again ask who shall lead the assault," Tyrande replied.
"I will be closely involved in our strategy to land, but at Bolvar's endless pestering, I will not lead the charge," Wrynn replied with clear irritation.
"After your absence and the dragon's manipulations, it would be a bad time for you to be gone again," Bolvar answered. "I will be leading Stormwind's forces myself."
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The Horde had also taken note of the latest attack on the living b y the Scourge and their necropoli. Sylvannas Windrunner had particularly in-depth knowledge of the Scourge as she and her people had once been slaves to Arthas' will. That deep knowledge also settled within her a deep hatred. The banshee queen and her Grand Apothecary had journeyed to Orgrimmar to meet with Thrall and discuss the Horde's best move.
Near the warchief's hut, where Thrall discussed matters with his advisors and would hear the complaints of his people, the farseer stood silently, looking out over the valley. Thrall turned as the Forsaken leader arrived and offered the elf a salute. With him was his chief advisor, the warrior Saurfang.
"Greetings, Sylvannas," Thrall spoke in the orcish tongue, which had become the common language of the Horde. Sylvannas responded with a nod. "We are awaiting the arrival of one more," Thrall continued. "I have given invitation to their council in these matters."
The gathered leaders talked about the battles faced against the necropoli, but avoided any discussion of what they would do going forward. They didn't wait long before Garrosh Hellscream, son of Grom Hellscream, arrived. The young mag'har orc had once worried he carried not only the same blood as his father, but also the same weakness that led Grom to seek power and be corrupted by the Burning Legion. Hpwever, after Thrall's return to Draenor, Garrosh had learned of his father's final moments in battle, slaying hte demon Mannoroth and lifting the blood haze from his people. Since then, Garrosh had grown more confident and assertive in his leadership of the mag'har.
"Greetings Warchief Go'el," Garrosh said as he walked up, saluting Thrall as he addressed him by his birth-name.
"Good to see you again, Garrosh. Now, let us begin. This meeting is about the recent atacks from the Scourge," Thrall was allowed no further words before Garrosh interrupted him.
"Warchief, your armies stand ready. Let me lead them to Northrend to eliminate the undead menace."
"Yes, Thrall," Sylvannas agreed. "The time has come to kill Arthas. You can take my Grand Apothecary with you. His knowledge could prove invaluable, particularly after his countering of their recent plague, with anything the Scourge will throw at you."
"It would be an honor, dark lady," Putress answered.
Thrall listened, his blue eyes looking to each of them as they spoke. The orc looked to his most trusted advisor in matters of war, the veteran Saurfang. "What do you say, Saurfang?"
"It is indeed clear that Northrend poses a very real and immediate threat, but this is a foe like no other. Caution is advised."
Thrall nodded to the warrior's words. "My shoulder burns for vengeance, but the spirits tell me to think clearly. THe Lich King is a ruthless opponent. One who must be handled with caution. I will send scouts north to survey the land. In the meantime, I will convene with Jaina Proudmoore and see what plans the Alliance has."
"Gragh!" Garrosh's roar of frustration was sudden and with such strength that it startled all present and drew attention from those going about their daily tasks. "I can not take this! While you talk and deliberate, our enemies grow stronger. You seek council with the human mage, seeking her approval? Were it my decision, I would put the whole might of our forces on that frozen rock and conquer it for the Horde!"
Thrall's eyes narrowed at the younger orc. "If this is a trap, I will not walk blindly into it. Do not make the same mistakes as your father, Garrosh."
"My father's mistakes? After all he did for you and your people? Mak'gora!"
"You challenge me?!" Thrall shook his head and waved at Garrosh dismissively. "We don't have time for this!"
"So you refuse? Is the son of Durotan a coward?" Garrosh glared, his words biting at Thrall's honor.
"Inside!" Thrall's eyes flashed as he roared back to Garrosh and turned to storm into the Ring of Valor with the others following.
Word spread quickly that the warchief had been challenged, drawing spectators quickly. Jinbu found himself in a secure position with a clear view of the combatants. Near him, an orc watched with a stern expression.
"I'm surprised you're not gathering bets on the winner, Jinbu," the orc said, his voice with more than a hint of contempt. Most in the Horde knew of Jinbu, the opportunistic troll that traded in everything, had his fingers in everything, and somehow seemed to turn a profit in every situation.
"Not on this, Ohruk. THere be some t'ings even Jinbu don' mess wit'."
The troll knew Ohruk the shaman looked up to Thrall with great respect. That was enough reason to be respectful, but the troll had other reasons to watch the outcome with great interest, knowing the challenge could greatly alter his own future. In the circle, Thrall and Garrosh faced off.
"Let's end this quickly," Thrall said as he drew the Doomhammer from his back.
"Your duties as warchief can wait. Now...we fight!"
The two charged one another with bellowing roars. Garrosh came in leading with his right axe in an overhead slash while his left came in at Thrall's side. The farseer brought the great hammer up vertically to block the axe with the hammer's head. HE let go with his right hand, letting the weight lead the force of his swing to come down on the warrior's left hand. To avoid a shattered bone, Garrosh had to alter his attack into a parry. Thrall struck forward and caught the younger orc in the chest, sending him scrambling back.
Garrosh took a prepared stance as Thrall slammed his hammer on the ground with a resounding boom and a crackling of electricity dancing on the head of the hammer. Thrall's eyes narrowed as he snarled, now moving in with a determined look. Garrosh again answered with a pressing attack. When his attack was parried, the warrior felt a jolt run up his arms before another strike exploded against his shoulder, sending him flying into the air. As soon as he landed, he shrugged off the hit and charged forward again. Thrall stepped back, moving Doomhammer left and right to parry and block the strikes. He took another step back, then another, as the flurry of attacks continued. Eventually, a slash got through, grazing over the black plate armor Thrall wore. He countered, but Garrosh swung downward with both axes, striking the hammer further away. With amazing speed, Garrosh kicked out, catching Thrall in the ribs and sending the warchief rolling.
Thrall gasped as he rolled to his back to see Garrosh coming down on him. He roared as he punched out again and caught the challenger in the chest. Lightning burst from the hammer once again, sending Garrosh airborne for a second time, wind and lightning swirling around him. Thrall got to his feet and gripped his hammer with both hands as Garrosh landed. He was impressed at the warrior's resilience, seeing him already moving forward again, though Thrall could see a slight stagger to his step.
Yet again, the two clashed, but Thrall felt his hammer growing heavier while Garrosh still seemed energized as he growled with each strike of his axes. Thrall drew back for a decisive strike, but Garrosh narrowly avoided the attack, knocking the hammer aside and bringing his second weapon down to strike the warchief in the head with the haft before bringing his knee to Thrall's abdomen and driving his shoulder into Thrall's chest to send him stumbling back. The farseer fell to one knee, still gripping his hammer, grunting as he clutched at his ribs.
Garrosh approached with a grin. "So, son of Durotan, what do you--" the warrior was interrupted as all of Orgrimmar's attention was drawn to the sky.
"Pups of Orgrimmar! Hear me, brash upstarts of the Horde! Tremble, and know your doom, for the Lich King's gaze is fixed upon you!"
Thrall stood as he and Garrosh looked up from the Ring of Valor.
"Thrall!" Saurfang came to the overlook, shouting down to the floor. "Scourge forces are attacking Orgrimmar!"
"Lok'tarosh!" Thrall stood as if new strength surged through him and raced for the exit. He stopped and looked back to Garrosh, who was starting to follow. "We will finish this another time...son of Grom."
Jinbu's perch had given him more than adequate view of the sky as the herald of the Lich King announced Orgrimmar's doom. Frostwyrms descended from the sky, carrying abominations in their talons. The troll was already moving by the time he saw the first one drop, but still wasn't fast enough to get ahead of the attack. Before he was out of the Ring of Valor, the troll could already hear the screams of women and children untrained for combat. Exiting the ring, Jinbu drew his dagger and sword, looking for a target. Only then did he realize Ohruk had already been gone when he started moving.
Ohruk had sensed something was wrong before the attack had come, but hadn't been sure what. The shaman had left the duel, thought the outcome was of great importance to him, and was in the street outside when that chilling voice ahd proclaimed their doom. Before the abominations had been dropped, ghouls appeared along the streets, seemingly teleported into the city by magic.
"Lok'tar ogar!" Ohruk had charged into the first group he saw, alerting others to the attack. The orc's war hammers came down hard on the first ghoul he came across, smashing into its skull and bursting into flames that quickly began to consume the corpse. Withou a pause, Ohruk engaged another group of ghouls, his hammers flying wildly and striking hard with satisfying cracks and crunches until his foes were left unmoving on the ground. The shaman turned in search of his next foe and barely managed to lift his weapons in time to block a powerful strike from an abomination that sent him sprawling back against the wall of a hut.
The abomination didn't get far before roaring out, not in pain but annoyance, as it was struck from behind. Ohruk saw the monster turn, revealing arrows littering its back, the wounds oozing a green fluid. The bow that fired the arrows was unimportant as Garrosh closed in and struck hard at the lumbering creature's legs. Gore flew as the mag'harhacked and chopped through flesh. The abomination fought back with heavy swings of its cleaver, but Garrosh easily managed to avoid them.
"Gargoyles! Take cover!" Thrall's voice seemed to resonate through the valley like a clap of thunder. Garrosh afforded only a brief glance to judge the distance of the winged monsters before renewing his attack with more controlled fury. Each strike of his axe tore through stitching, slowly taking the abomination apart.
Ohruk had recovered and joined Garrosh in finding cover as the gargoyles descended. More ghouls were dropped into the city, but the ones without passenger were a greater threat. The Horde warriors watched as they dropped barrels onto the abominations, the wood breaking and spilling tar or oil over them. Seemingly unaffected, the flesh monsters continued their rampage.
"These fools are doing our work for us!" Pallith Dreadmask, an undead mage, shouted as he began to cast a spell. Heat emanated from his hands as flames began to spark in the air between them.
"Wait, no!" A tauren druid attempted to stop him, but was too late. The fire spell hurtled towards one of the coated undead and impacted its chest, setting it ablaze. With a roar, the abomination charged forward into a nearby building, a tavern, which was shortly filled with explosions as the ale inside ignited. "Cursed fool, they aren't doing this without reason!" The druid snorted as she berated the Forsaken and turned back to their foes.
Others looked up to see the druid's evidence as more gargoyles now descended with torches and burning pitch, dropping them on the ground forces which barreled into anything they could. Fires spread quickly and buildings with gunpowder and engineering or alchemical supplies ignited in explosions through the city.
"We need to stop those gargoyles!" Someone shouted the obvious as the druid made her way through the still battling warriors of the Horde and the undead legions of the Scourge.
"Warchief! Thrall!" The druid shouted with all her might as she pushed towards the orc. Thrall and Saurfang had fallen into formation together, piling ghouls around them and bringing down a number of abominations. Eventaully, the tauren reached them. "Warchief! If you can keep the ground forces busy, I believe we can bring down the gargoyles with a storm."
Thrall regarded the druid a moment, then looked to Saurfang. "Saurfang! Lead our people while we handle the winged vermin!" He looked back to the druid. "Come, then, ah..."
"Togri," she answered.
"Come, Togri, let's handle these." Thrall led the tauren to the roof of one of the nearby buildings where the farseer held his Doomhammer before him, speaking quietly under his breath. "The spirits are with us, Togri. Begin your spell. I will see to it you remain unharmed."
The tauren nodded and began to reach out with her mind, searching for the forces of nature to answer her call. SHe felt them answer and began to conjure them to her aid. Her nerves clawed at her, reminding her who was standing by her and keeping her safe. Her distraction confused the forces she called on, but the sky began to darken as ominous clouds rolled thickly over Orgrimmar.
The Scourge forces didn't seem to notice, wreaking havoc by destroying buildings and attacking any living being they could. The gargoyles, however, did pinpoint Togri and began a quick descent. Thrall, however, was ready for them. As the first neared, it was blasted from the sky by a bolt of lightning that jumped to another and yet another before shooting into the sky. The clouds seemed to swallow it, but began to flash as thunder rumbled within them. The gargoyles continued their attack, but began to strain as the winds grew stronger. Within moments, the gargoyles were tossed around by the raging winds. Some smashed together while others were simply twisted so violently that they went limp and fell towards the earth below. As the storm grew, rain began to fall, the downpour pounding into those battling below and helping to douse the flames.
"You've done it Togri! That takes care of the gargoyles. Now, let's clean up my city."
On the streets of the city, the battle did continue with no end in sight. Sylvannas had lost count of how many arrows she had loosed, but had moved to her blades as she encountered more ghouls. The undead elf made no remarks nor gave any battle cry, but set to work with silent, cruel, determination. She blocked an attack from a ghoul, swatting its claw away and kicked it back, giving an immediate swipe that removed its head. Her feet carried her forward, striking at two more before sliding to her knees to slip between an abomination's legs. In a single, fluid motion, she was up again and drove her left blade into the thick back of the abomination. Using the protruding blade as a step, the agile elf pushed herself up to the monstrosity's shoulder where she brought her sword straight down through the creature's head. Sylvannas drew her bow yet again and fired off two more arrows before the creature had fallen under her feet.
Not far from her, Saurfang roared as he brought a greatsword down in a powerful arc that cleaved a ghoul from shoulder to hip. The orc spun around, leading with the sword to behead another and bite halfway through a second. With a snarl, the warrior put his heavy boot to the undead and pushed it off. The undead seemed to pile around him and none were still coming. His head looked to the sky, the rain falling hard on Saurfang's tusked face, roaring back to it in victory. His roar was drowned out, though by others, as if the sky answered his challenge.
From the clouds came half a dozen huge skeletal dragons on seemingly ethereal wings. The result of raising dragons through necromancy, the frost wyrms were a truly terrifying enemy. The city was already devestated, but looking at the descending creatures suggested it may not stand by day's end.
"Archers, with me!" Sylvannas started down a side street, followed by a numer of sin'dorei, orc, and tauren archers, as well as troll spear throwers. "Putress, command the casters!"
The Grand Apothecary took command indeed, taking mages and warlocks with him. Many remained in the streets to combat the remaining ground units that were only now finally starting to diminish.
"Lok'tar ogar!" Thrall rallied his troops as he once again faced off with the invaders, though his glances to the sky made him unsure of his next tactical move.
The first frost wyrm roared as it opened its mouth to unleash an attack. Its face was caught by a dozen fireballs, though the pouring rain weakened their power, halting its attack. Its wings were ripped by a seemingly endless rain of arrows. Losing altitude, the bone dragon dived and landed in the center of Orgrimmar, its tail lashing about and bringing walls down with its powerful strikes.
"Bring it down!" Garrosh and Saurfang led the charge as others followed behind them. Ohruk clashed his war hammers together three times before slamming them into the ground. Around the shaman, dirt seemed to fly from the earth, followed by rock. Ohruk lifted his hammer high before bringing it down once more. Bursting from the ground, an earth elemental rumbled forward to join the battle with the grounded undead beast.
"Togri!" Another tauren called to the druid that had deverted the gargoyles earlier. The male approached Togri, pulling his hood down against the rain, others following behind him.
"Yes?" Togri looked curiously to the older tauren.
"We need to intensify your storm. All of us together. But we need cold, hail."
"Cold won't slow them, old on," Togri replied, shaking her head in consternation. "They hail from the roof of the world, cold is their nature. They are frost wyrms, after all."
"It's not the cold that will be used against them. You know the power of nature's winds and what they may do with the strength of a hardened projectile at their direction." Togri nodded as she understood his plan.
"Let's find the mages."
By the time the druids had found Putress and the casters he had gathered and explained their plan, the ground forces had defeated the forst wyrm, though Ohruk's elemental was in rubble.
"The warlocks will keep them distracted," Putress said as another volley of arrows tangled in a frost wyrm's wings. "Though it seems our dark lady is doing the same."
The druids began to focus on their spell, working together to intensify their plea to the wild forces of nature and strengthen the storm already pounding down. One had left the group, shifting to the form of a cheetah to race through the street to warn everyone to take shelter. The mages joined the casting, forming a sort of freezing ice barrier into the sky to freeze the rain already falling. In the air, the forming sleet began to clatter off the bones of the undead wyrms.
The druids, though working together, strained to find control of the raging forces of nature, imploring them to aid in battling something very unnatural. The forces of the world itself answered, felt by all as the temperature dropped and ice began to fall from the storming clouds. The wind whipped around the undead dragons, sending larger and larger blocks of hail not only raining on them, bu tsmashing into them from all sides. The Horde below watched from the cover they had taken and let out a resounding sound of victory when the first chunk of hail finally shattered bone.
The druids grimmaced as they struggled to maintain control of the furious forces of nature. The spirits of nature lashed out at the wyrms, furious at the unnatural creatures and their refusal to submit. Again and again they were battered until the last of them finally fell from the sky in pieces.
The Horde forces came out into the streets as the clouds eventually began to part with no small effort from the druids, cheering their victory. The celebration was short lived, however, as the weight of the dead and the destruction settled in. The cries of those for dead family filled the air quickly. Saurfang found his warchief, making his way through the corpses and gore.
"Send our fastest wyverns to Thunder Bluff. Make sure Cairne is safe. I want reenforcements there if there's even one Scourge on the plains," Thrall said. Saurfang nodded, moving to send their fastest runner to carry out the task.
Once word returned that Thunder Bluff was safe and plans were underway to start clearing out the bodies, the leaders reconvened at Grommash Hold. Thrall's chief concern was to tend to the wounded and give proper respects to the dead. Garrosh arrived shortly after, his weapons and armor still stained.
"Well, Warchief? What say you now? Will you send me to Northrend?"
Thrall looked up slightly, peering at Garrosh from under his heavy brow. "Saurfang?"
"Yes, Warchief?"
"Marshal our forces. Contact our goblin shipwrights. The Horde prepares for war!"
"As you command, Warchief."
"Excellent," Sylvannas said from the side. "Most excellent."
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In Stormwind, Varian Wrynn and Bolvar Fordragon had taken an opportunity to inspect the ships being prepared for the assault on Northrend. Along with Valeera and Broll, they had set up a table to review the maps they were relying on.
"Your highness! My liege!" The two looked up as a high elf mage came running towards them with a night elf whose armor indicated she was a Sentinel at his side. Guards moved to stop them, but the king waved them away.
"What is it, mage?"
"It is Orgrimmar, sire," the high elf replied, looking to his darker skinned companion.
"King Varian Wrynn, I am Santil Shadewalker of the Silverwing Sentinels. Orgrimmar is in flames, sir. The Scourge attacked the city."
"Casualties? Does the Warchief still live, the city still stand?" Varian's face did not hide his shock of the report. The brazen attack showed an aggressiveness not yet seen from Arthas.
"From what we can tell, yes. Thrall survived and the Scourge were driven back, but they did suffer heavy casualties."
"We must assume Arthas will target us as well, Varian," Bolvar said. Varian nodded in agreement.
"Alert the guards. Send messengers to Goldshire, Lakeshire, Duskwood, and the Westfall. I don't want to take chances assuming they'll attack here directly. Prepare to close the gates. Put riflemen on the walls at the front gate as well as here at the harbor. I want infantrymen armed and ready. Deploy a full compliment of mages and have priests and paladins from the church ready to respond."
"Aye, sire," Bolvar answered, setting off to start directing the city's defenses.
"Fools of Stormwind! Here me, naive children of the Alliance! Tremble and know your doom, for the Lich King's gaze is fixed upon you!"
"See to your arms! We must protect the harbor or the Alliance's assault on Northrend will be halted before it can even begin!" Wrynn was quick to react, looking to the sky for the first sign of attack.
The forces set against Stormwind attacked much like those that layed siege to Orgrimmar. Ghouls were teleported onto the stone walkway as abominations were dropped into the crowd. Alarms quickly rang out, calling any able to carry a weapon to the harbor.
"About time something happened! I was getting tired of all this talk," Valeera had her daggers drawn as the first of the ghouls attacked. The blood elf dodged their clumsy attacks easily, scoring small hits that quickly began to add up. Though the undead felt no pain, wounds still drained them, eventually preventing the creature from being able to keep itself together and functioning. The rogue's lightning fast strikes quickly wore down the ghouls, leaving them all in a piled heap.
Near her, Broll had shifted to the form of a large bear and was fending off one of the abominations. The druid had scored a number of heavy hits, but had taken a few as well. Surprising the elf, the abomination reeled back suddenly, letting out a grunt of shock and fear, and as close as the Scourge came to fear. Broll glanced back to see Bolvar coming to join him, having struck the monster with a holy spell. Broll grutned a thanks and threw himself at the abomination again.
"The gargoyles and frost wyrms were the greatest threat to the Horde, sire. They--" the elfen mage was cut off as Varian shouted for casters and archers or riflemen to be ready to bring down any undead in the sky as soon as they were in range.
"I don't need to know details so much as what we should do about the problems," Varian said to the mage.
"The gargoyles dropped oil on the abominations to cause fires. Do not let the flyers near them," Santil said, firing at a ghoul. Varian nodded, emphasizing his command to bring them down quickly when they could before drawing his swords to join the battle.
Others began to arrive at the harbor to join the battle and fight off the invaders. While Orgrimmar had been attacked in the city, allowing the Scourge to attack a number of structures, the assault on Stormwind was concentrated at the harbor. While it prevented much of the city from being targeted, it did put the defenders at a disadvantage in having so many enemies in such a small space.
"Leave non standing! No quarter!" Alhena of Stromgarde roared as she dove into a group of ghouls. As she met the forward ghouls, she swung out with both hands, tearing through two at once to bring them both down in an overhead arc that took off the next ghoul's arms before she drove her foot into its chest. The woman didn't follow through, however, as she stepped to her side to attack an abomination. The last lion was brutal with every attack, throwing herself madly into every enemy she saw.
More controlled, but no less deadly, was Hanstall Kierstead. The human carried a sturdy sword with unmistakable skill, but in his other hand he held a shield that not only protected him, but served as another weapon to his skills. The warrior had dispatched four ghouls, but was already dealing with six more. He lifted his shield, a large wall more than half his height with spikes standing from its face, and felt a ghouls claws rake against it. At the same time, his right arm struck out, driving his sword through a zombie's head. The twist of his arm tore the creature's head off, leaving it to fall at his feet. Hanstall was already turning before it landed, swinging his left arm out to smash the ghoul away and deflect another strike from his right. An abomination lumbered towad him, but was halted as ghostly chains, glowing with the power of the Light, grasped the brute and seemed to shackle it in place. Hanstall knew Jaradine was keeping an eye on him, even as he decapitated yet another ghoul.
The undead were relentless, but seemed to crash against a wall as the defenders fought back. Varian stood at the upper level and watched the battle unfold, consciously holding himself back, though he wished desperately to charge in. He scanned the sky, spotting the gargoyled the Sentinel had warned of.
"Casters! Gargoyles incoming!"
"Be ready," a gnome said amongst the casters. "Let them get close enough."
"We know our craft, Xarnlen," a blond haired, bearded man replied, his eyes staying fixed ahead on the sky.
"Well, the undead tend to be resistant, if not immune, to ice spells. And since that's my specialty, I may as well put my skills towards keeping you in line, Bolia." The human chuckled to his fellow mage, looking towards the nearing enemy again.
As the gargoyle drew closer, they began to dive, again carrying barrels of oil and tar. With the warning, though, the Alliance was more prepared. The line of casters unleashed a wave of spells, fireballs igniting the barrels that leaped to the gargoyles carrying them. Some still managed to drop their dangerous cargo, but the mages were prepared. Xarnlen, along with others, cast spells of ice that impacted the barrel and encased it, sending the hard, frozen block hurdling to the ground. Some hit their intended targets, distracting the simplistic abominations while others landed on members of the defensive forces, though the injuries were better than the alternative.
The gargoyles responded with a more direct attack, diving into the mayhem and grabbing Alliance defenders to carry away. Those that succeeded only flew skyward for a bit before dropping them to their deaths. All the while, mages, archers, and marksmen worked to bring them down, as did the ground forces as they were able to reach them. Yet the Scourge, as always, remained relentless, killing any who drew near if even a slight break was found in their defenses.
Feneril had found himself to the battle as well, fighting with all his strength as he tried to not only fight off the undead, but place blessings on his comrades and even heal wounds as he could.
"Is there no end to them?" The paladin blocked a strike from an abomination just as he turned from dodging a ghoul's claws.
"Is there ever?" Stormforged replied. The warrior struck a skeleton with his shield, which staggered back and then collapsed as Feneril's exorcised the creature, driving the unholy power that animated it from its form.
"Less talking and more fighting," called another paladin named Auroa. "i can't keep this up forever. The Light may keep you healed, but even I need rest at some point."
All three looked up as flashes of light and a symphony of explosions filled the sky. The line of casters had spotted a frost wyrm just in range and had unleashed everything on it at once. The undead beast roared in defiance, but fell from the sky, crashing against a harbor wall and to the ground. The mages continued their assaults, felling more of the bone dragons, but as Auroa had said, they would tire while the undead did not.
"Argh! Enough of this!" Varian could no longer restrain himself to merely watch the battle. Throwing his cloak back with a shrug of his shoulders, the king leaped from the upper tier and came down on an abomination, driving his swords through its head. As the behemoth collapsed, Wrynn jumped forward, taking off the heads of two ghouls as he landed. The undead moved in on him, but Varian was too well trained in swordplay. He sidestepped the first attack while parrying to his left. A skeleton brought an axe to bear and Wrynn stepped into the strike, getting close enough that the haft struck his pauldron, the blade finding nothing beneath it. Grunting from the blow, the warrior-king drove his sword under the skeleton's arm and into a ghoul behind it. He released his grip on the weapon and thrust forward to ram his shoulder into the skeleton's sternum to drive it back a step. The skeleton readied another attack, but Varian was too fast in his own. Grabbing its face, the human threw his strength into his push, driving the undead's skull to the hard stone, shattering it.
The king turned as he stood, pulling up the defeated enemy's axe as he did so, and blocked another attack. Two cleaves of the axe split another ghouls head and a slash of his sword layed another low. He hurled the axe forward, embedding it in an abomination's face, then pulled his relinquished sword free to again face the invaders of his city.
The defenders of the Alliance rallied behind the king, pushing hard to destroy the last of the Scourge even as more frost wyrms descended. The ground forces were nearly defeated when they came upon them, swooping over the crowd and grabbing half a dozen fighters at a time, either crushing them in their talons or dropping them to their deaths. The casters that had brought the others down were spent and struggled to mount a renewed offensive.
Suddenly, a loud boom froze everyone in the harbor, followed seconds later by a near deafening explosion in the sky. All looked up to see a headless frost wyrm falling to the water below. Before anyone could react, another blast exploded into another frost wyrm. Cheers drew attention to the center of the harbor, seeming as though Medivh himself had joined the Alliance's cause. The sight was not quite as impressive, but turned the tide none the less. In the center of the harbor stood a dwarvish steam tank, rumbling its anger at the Scourge and snorting smoke in anger equivalent to any dragon. The vehicle fired again, scoring yet another direct hit to bring another wyrm down.
The defenders cheered as the last of the ghouls and abominations were destroyed. All that remained was a final frost wyrm and the steam tank that rolled into position. Roaring in defiance and rage, the undead beast dived for the harbor, clearly intent on destroying the tank.
"Bring it down," cried nearby soldiers. Whoever was piloting the vehicle adjusted, turning the tank slightly and aiming the cannon. The beast grew closer and the tank gave a roar, and then a pop, followed by a billowing trail of smoke from the cannon. Another sound came as a whoosh of steam burst from the tank. The wyrm still neared. Suddenly, the tank again roared and fired its shell directly into the mouth of the bellowing monster.
The explosion rocked the harbor as the wyrm's jaw was blasted in two, its head flying off. The defenders scrambled to get out of the way and avoid the body as it landed hard and skidded forward coming to a stop in front of the tank that had bested it. The tank...which promptly fell apart.
The gears supporting the treads fell off the right, causing the body to fall on its side. Smoke belched from the back as pipes fell free and a panel came open. The head of the tank fell off, the cannon pinning against a tread and tumbling upside down. From the tank's wreckage tumbled two short figures. The first had a large head that seemed too big for his body and equally large ears that seemed to large for the head. In contrast, the gnome had a slender nose that came to a point and thin eyebrows. His hair was thin and showed his scalp at the crown, coming down to a beard that hung from his chin.
"Stripped screw, Maryl, I told you it couldn't take any more!"
Meryl's head popped up from behind a tread where she had landed. Her hair was in tact, thick, and red. Similarly, her lips were painted as if to match it. Like her companion, she had large ears, but they were longer, and pointed at the tips. Her blue eyes stood out brightly against her darker green skin. The goblin laughed as she climbed to her feet and moved towards the gnome.
"You gnomish engineers are all alike, Daryl. Far too cautious!"
"More like sane! If you'd listen to me once in a while, you never would have blown up mom's kitchen!"
"What?! That was years ago!" Maryl replied.
"Well what about all the stuff every year since then?"
"Dad always encouraged us to take chances in the name of..." Maryl looked around and swallowed as the crowd stared at them. "Uh...he did it."
"I'll kill every last one of your pawns, Lich King!" All eyes turned to see Varian standing defiant, his sword pointed to the horizon. "Take your flying fortresses back to Northrend, before I crush them with my bare hands!"
The voice echoed back from the retreating necropolis. "This small victory will avail you nothing! Come to Northrend. Come in all your power and glory! In the end, you will find only death." The haunting sound of the Lich King's Herald's proclamation stole some of the bravado from King Wrynn's boasts, but the cheers of victory still sounded as the necropolis was seen shrinking to the horizon.
Feneril stood silent as he watched the structure fly away, fading from view. His attention was drawn away as he saw Wrynn and Bolvar moving towards the gate into the city. Bolvar noticed the paladin and signaled him to come with them.
"Sir Feneril," Bolvar started. "You lead the Shard of the Silver Hand in league with the Order unde Tirion Fordring, correct?"
"Yes, Highlord."
"Travel north to Light's Hope," Wrynn said as they walked. "Tell your master the Alliance is setting out for war with Arthas."
"You highness, if I may, doesn't this seem like a trap? It's almost as if the Lich King is goading us to fight on his doorstep," Feneril said.
"I suspect you're right, which means we are aware and will be watching for traps. But I still believe we must take the offensive."
"Very well, sire. I will inform Highlord Fordring of your intent." Feneril saluted Bolvar and Varian and set off to the city's gryphon stables.