1,554Chapter 14: Volume 1: Chapter 12
Lost Lion
Disclaimer! I don't own wow, blizz does and your soul too.
Volume 1: Chapter 12
***The Black Morass – Orcish Battlefront***
Doomhammer felt uneasy. He was not one prone to feeling uneasy. The air felt different today, familiar and tinging with power. Dark powers. The Horde had not attacked yet, but they had assembled. Across from the Horde were the humans, defiant and proud in their battered gleaming armors, waiting for them. He was not alone, all of the Horde's chieftains were here, and above all of those chieftains was their Warchief, Blackhand. Though, he was surprised to see Draka with Durotan's greatest warriors also in formation.
"Gul'dan." Blackhand's voice rumbled, pulling his second-in-command's attention to him. "Is your Shadow Council ready?"
The warlock and 'spiritual' leader of the orcs let out a peal of cruel laughter as his hand radiated with green Fel magicks.
"We are, my Warchief." Gul'dan bowed low and waited for Blackhand's signal.
"Then–" Blackhand turned to the human's lines. Their army was waiting for the Horde to attack, to test them once more through strength and skill. Unfortunately for them, it would not happen today as Blackhand simply pointed at the human lines. "–break them."
"As you say, Warchief!" Gul'dan, who was normally composed, was now eager as he barked orders to his warlocks. Soon, voices from all along the orcs' lines began to chant foul dark words that permeated the air.
Doomhammer saw green energy waft out by the hundreds from the warlocks, like smoke from a campfire. Their Fel magicks congregated and began to interlace together before floating up into the sky. Almost instantly, the sky above them began to darken, green lighting crackling behind its black clouds.
The humans must have known something was wrong as many of them glanced up, and there was an uneasy shuffling amongst their lines. They were not alone in their discomfort; Doomhammer, along with many other veteran orcs warriors' expressions, turned grim. He remembered this familiar feeling, the tangible power in the air that was infusing his veins and allowing a familiar bloodlust rise from within him. Only once before had he experienced such powers. It was at the fall of Shattrath, the capital city of the Draenei, on the day when the demons were among them and guided their hands to slaughter their enemies.
Gul'dan and his Shadow Council's chant finally reached a crescendo and then, like so many years ago, the sky opened up as green flames fell onto the humans. The humans, to their credit, tried to avoid the fire, some even trying to shield themselves. It did not matter as the flaming green rocks killed many instantly on impact. However, they did not know that this was only the beginning as their doom slowly revealed itself. From where the green fire rocks fell now stood a large towering stone monstrosity, covered in green Fel fire, that let out a frightening, unholy roar.
Doomhammer had to give the humans their due; they were only frozen by the sight of the rock monster for a moment before they attacked it. A glance at Gul'dan told him the Warlock was not done as dozens upon dozens of shadowy portals began to open within the human's lines. From their dark depths, savage red demonic hounds with jutting horns emerged and gored the human soldiers. A few seconds later, balls of Fel magick fire shot out from the portal, hitting those unfortunate to be in the vicinity as groups of demonic imps rushed out, delighting in the pain they were inflicting.
Other shadow portals had creatures that look like humans, both male and female, but with legs like the Draenei and crude-looking wings. The humans were, of course, surprised to see such twisted creatures. Their weapon of choice was a barbed whip and upon the first lash, they serrated through armor and dug out chunks of flesh. The demon males and females were enthralled in ecstasy as they inflicted pain, their perverted desire clearly showing on their faces. It did not take long for the humans to rally and attack the demons. Some of the demonic females' faces twisted in pleasure at being cut down by the humans while others looked indignant.
Finally, from the remaining shadow portals, two types of brute demons emerged. One was called a Doomguard, large towering muscular monsters. They were completely red and unlike smaller winged demons, their faces were piggish and had much larger wings. In one hand was a flaming saber while the other held a spiked whip while other beings holding massive swords also emerged in their wake. Finally the last of the familiar demon creatures exited the portals by the hundreds. The Felguards were known for their bloodlust that even rivaled the most savage of orcs. The two types of brute daemons fell onto the human lines and completely turned it into chaos.
"Doomhammer," Blackhand spoke up to his second in command. It was time for them to deliver the final blow. "Kill them all, let none survive."
"Yes, my warchief!" Doomhammer pounded his fist into his chest. "Rise up, sons and daughters of the Horde! Blood and Glory await us! For the HORDE!"
"FOR THE HORDE!" came the reply as the hundred thousand warriors charged into the broken human's lines. Doomhammer felt the bloodlust sing in his veins as he ran ahead of their army and was the first crashing into the humans. With a mighty swing of his hammer, he crushed the first defender completely with an overhead attack. Not satisfied, he swung at the next human and sent the armored pinkskin flying away with its chest caved in.
"RAAAAAAAAAAARGH!" Doomhammer roared in the ecstasy of his kills as the rest of the Horde joined him.
With the humans no longer able to organize a coherent defense, the Horde spilled in through the holes in their defenses. The position that the Horde had trouble breaking through was now being flooded by orc warriors. The entire area became an all-out brawl and to add to the mayhem, the orcs set the humans' tents on fire to sow even more chaos. There were minor pockets of resistance like the humans in cloth robes trying to use their weak Draenei magicks to hurt the demons, but it was nothing compared to what the Draenei could do.
Doomhammer lost himself to his bloodlust completely and slaughtered his way through the human camp. The death sounds of human soldiers were music to his ears. He bumped into one of the doomguards who merely grinned at him before it tore a white-robed human in two before consuming him. This felt right to Orgrim. Demons and orcs were fighting side by side once more to vanquish a hated foe.
"Lok'tar ogar!" Doomhammer roared to his warriors. His warriors returned the cry even as the human's own defiant answering cry dwindled. The weak sound made him panic when he realized the humans were dying too fast. He wanted to kill more; he needed to kill more!
How long Doomhammer chased after foes to slaughter, he did not know. There was only a dim awareness that his armor was soaked in his enemies' blood, and that his face had not fared any better as it too was red from the splatters. His bloodlust-addled mind would have continued like this if something bright had not struck him. It was familiar magicks, Draenei magicks, and it brought him out of his red haze.
When Orgrim senses came back to him, he realized he was deep in the enemy's lines. A quick glance at his surroundings showed that there were many dead armored humans around him and a young human female in robe clothes with a hand pointed at him. The female was bloodied, bruised with pathetic tears streaming down her face, and shook like a brittle leaf. Below her waist, her dirtied white robe was stained with her cowardice, such that he could smell the sour stench. The Draenei often did the same thing when faced with death.
"Rargh!" Doomhammer swung his hammer at her head and crushed it instantly. A clean kill was a kinder fate than what those demons would have done to her.
Blackhand's second-in-command turned to where the battle was and was about to hurry back before all of the game was killed. At least, he was until he heard something, a chanting of some sort. He could sense the power in the words, almost like what Gul'dan had done when he called forth the Fel. However, where the warlock's magick words felt dark, these chanted words gave off feelings of primal power.
Doomhammer cautiously followed the sound of the chants and realized it was not one voice but dozens! He remained still and tuned out the sounds of battle, soon realizing that the chants were echoing from someplace higher up. Leaving the battle behind, the orc made his way slowly up the mountain, each step seemingly bringing him closer to the chants' point of origin. Eventually, he reached its peak where he was confronted with an odd sight. From his vantage point, he could see the entire human camp and the Horde army razing it. He could even make out the Blackhand banner across the hill from this position. That, however, was not the only odd sight. Instead, it was the humans on the crest of the hill that interested him.
These humans wore different robes than the Draenei-like ones, blue instead of white. They also wore funny hats and were all standing in a circle that had weird symbols that glowed purple. There must have been almost a hundred humans in the circle, but the two in the middle stood out the most to him. They were ancient with long white beards and were waving their hands in the air, chanting louder and louder by the second. However, that was when the old human in the center opened his eyes and looked straight at the snooping orc, his eyes glowing with magick power.
The first thought that went through Doomhammer's mind was that the humans had magick users all along. If so, why did they not use them in the past few days? In fact, why were they not down there helping their fellow humans? What were they doing by holding up here, away from prying eyes? However, almost immediately, he realized the only reason why the humans would hide their magick users was that they were setting a trap. Urgency filled him as he raised his famed hammer and charged the circle, but it was too late as the lead magick user's eyes met his own before he looked to the sky and finished the chant with a raised hand.
The area immediately glowed brightly and was washed in power, a power that was stronger than what he felt Gul'dan unleash. Doomhammer raised his arms up to try and ward off the attack as it swept through him and down the mountain, passing through the battling army to the orcs' encampment. As suddenly as the power swept out, it died down and allowed him to lower his arms. He turned to see the battle was still raging down in the human camp. Did the humans magick users fail? He turned back to the oldest magick user who was looking at him with a soft smile on his face.
"Ragh!" Doomhammer roared and charged at the closest human, swinging his hammer. He expected blood to splatter. What he did not expect was for his hammer to encounter no resistance. The moment his hammer struck, the first human warlock's body crumbled into ash. "What?"
Confused but not giving up, he swung his hammer at the other human warlock and like the first one, they all turned to ash when struck. After mowing down the majority of the humans, he stopped, confusion clear on his face.
"What..." Doomhammer did not understand. What was the whole point of their chanting? His warrior instinct told him something was wrong but nothing felt out of place. At least, not until the air of dark magic was overwhelmed by something else, something far more powerful. "No..."
Doomhammer's attention was brought to the sky when an unnaturally loud thunderclap boomed across the area. The sound was so deafening that it made him cover his ears to mitigate some of the noise. However, the thunderclap was not the only thing in the sky as the green power of Gul'dan seemed to be consumed by something else, something orange. It did not take long for Gul'dan's Fel magicks to be eliminated, and the sky reflected that as orange light danced behind blood-red clouds.
"No..." Doomhammer felt despair as the red cloud parted and from it poured a massive amount of arcane fire right on top of the Horde attackers.
"No!"
+++Black Morass – Human Battlefront+++
It was a lesson passed down from father to son in Lothar's family. The story was one of valor, cunning, and sacrifice in the face of total annihilation. It was the story of how Thoradin, the first king of the unified human tribes, fought Jintha, the greatest troll warlord ever known along with his numerous kind at the base of Alterac mountains, outnumbered ten to one. His ancestor, even with the alliance with the High Elves of Quel'Thalas, had the foresight to realize that the humans and elves could never defeat the trolls through strength of arms. That even combined, their numbers could not hope to match that of the brutal warlord's army. So his ancestor cunningly laid a trap and convinced the proud elven king to go along with it.
One hundred of their learned magis in conjunction with hundreds of elven magisters wove a spell that took days in the making. When their combined armies baited the main troll army to them, they unleashed the spell at just the right time. It was a spell never seen nor used since as the mages of the northern kingdoms, the elven magisters, and even the Conjurers of Stormwind learned to guard against it. Liege lords feared suffering the same fate so they ensured that their mages would always be able to detect such a spell, lest they suffer the same fate as the Amani trolls. However these orcs were new, and they also used a different type of magic. Lothar gambled that the Horde did not know of Thoradin's trap and his intuition paid off.
Lothar watched as balls of fire rained down from the sky onto the orcs. The once vicious attackers were caught off guard and paid for it by the thousands. Many orcs were charred and burned on the spot while others had the magic flames splashed onto them from the errant impacts. Even the foul demons that the orcs summoned were surprised by the rain of fire. The big green fire rock monsters could not weather out the attack as their green flames were snuffed out by orange and red ones. However, none of that compared to the massive funnel of fire that was sweeping through the orc's lines. He could feel the heat from here as it tore through the orcs by the tens of thousands, always following the densest packed areas as Huglar said it would. The rain of fire itself was configured to target anything non-human but could still be hurt if touched by it. Thus, his defenders were safe for the most part or rather, what was left of them.
Unfortunately, the great spellwork came with a heavy price. The expedition force did not have a hundred mages with them nor elven magisters. However, that did not mean it was impossible. Hugarin, Huglar, and the Conjurers of Stormwind would power the necessary spells with their lives as sacrifices for the spell. It would only last a few minutes so Lothar had to draw the entire orcish Horde to him so they could inflict the most damage. So long as the Horde's magis did not detect the spellcast, the plan would work, and judging by what was happening on the field, it did.
'Thank you, my friends...' Lothar thought of the coujurers who gave their lives to remake the spell his ancestors once used against the Amani trolls of Lordaeron. The orcs were now broken before him with the portal that the demons spilled forth from had disappeared. Many of the greenskins were more interested in fleeing the rain of fire than attacking his defenders. Now was the time to strike the final blow against the Horde.
Lothar looked around and saw that there were only a few hundred knights left of the seventy thousand soldiers that marched with him. Knight-Champion Wice was among them, the man having stuck oddly close on the final day.
"Soldiers of Stormwind!" Lothar shouted over the roaring sound of the fiery twister laying waste to the orc's ranks. "Our job is not finished! I need you to follow me one last time, for one final strike at their very heart! Are you with me?!"
The weary knights were instantly energized by Lothar's voice. "We are with you, Lothar!"
Garona's information regarding the orcs had been very helpful. Thanks to her, he knew how to identify the orcs' honor guards, the equivalent of the Kingsguards. Lothar pointed his sword to where a large group of orc warriors, much bigger than his own forces, that had not fled and knew that was where Blackhand was holed up. "For Stormwind!"
"For Stormwind!" the surviving knights replied as they ran toward the last organized orc group since their horses had died throughout the siege.
The orcs saw them coming and barked something before rushing out to meet them. Two armies, one harried and the other weary, clashed one final time on the burning field without thoughts of safety for themselves. The honor guards were surprised by the human ferocity and found it hard to fend them off even with their superior numbers. It did not help that fire was still raining down on them; there was an orc struck directly by a fireball while engaging a human soldier. The splash from the fireball also killed the human due to his proximity when it impacted the ground.
Thanks to the rain of fire, Lothar and his knights were able to split the honor guards' line and pour in through the spot. By unspoken agreement, Lothar rushed forward as his men defended him as best as they could. He saw a few orcs in his way after he broke through. Some were in clothes like their conjurers, looking lost, and others walked around in a daze unsure of what to do. They all died to his blade as he made for the biggest tent, gambling that it was where their leader would be located.
With his sword raised in a combat-ready stance, Lothar made his way inside through a gap he found in the tent, his eyes darting left and right while his senses were heightened. On the floor of the tent, he could see many charred orcs' bodies, some of them like the spell caster he had cut down. He heard a groan, making his eyes snap forward with his jaws set as he moved further inward. It did not take him long to reach a spacious area where a charred body was littered on the ground. None of them mattered as there was still one orc alive in the room. It was the massive one he had seen before with the deadly-looking warhammer and dressed in bone armor, though the armor was cracked in various areas. The orc sat on his throne with eyes closed, his chest rising and falling in stutters while he breathed laboriously. Half of the greenskin's body was charred on one side while green blood leaked profusely from various cracks in his skin.
The orc Warchief, Blackhand, must have been struck by one of the fireballs, Lothar realized. The orc warchief, as if sensing his presence, opened his one good eye and growled upon seeing the intruder. Red blood eyes met steely blue ones for a single moment. Mutual hatred and loathing for each other were made known to the two enemies before the orc warchief made to grab his warhammer. However, the Champion of Stormwind was already in motion as he rushed the orcish throne. With a mighty swing, he separated the warchief's head from his shoulders. The warchief's head rolled onto the ground for a moment until it stopped facing his executioner, revealing the resentment on his face.
Lothar did it. He killed the Horde's Warchief, and if what Garona said was correct, Blackhand was all that was keeping the Horde unified. At the very least, the selection of the next warchief would buy precious time for Llane and Stormwind. He allowed himself a moment as his thoughts reflected that of his life and his regret toward Callan. If he had a second chance, he would have done things differently, he realized. So much time had been wasted over undue resentment toward his son. It was a miracle the boy did not outright hate him.
Lothar banished those thoughts and steeled himself for one final glorious stand with his brothers. He regretted that with their deaths, the Brotherhood of the Horse would no longer exist. He hoped that their deeds would be remembered by the people and that his son would remember him in a kind light. He reached down and curled his hand around Blackhand's hair and walked out of the tent with Ashkandi in his other hand.
The moment Lothar exited the tent, he saw his knights had formed a half circle for their final stand with their numbers greatly reduced. Blackhand honor guards stopped and looked shocked by what they saw in his hand. Seeing this, Lothar raised their warchief's head up high and threw it to their feet before spitting on the ground to show them what he thought of Blackhand. This enraged the orcs, but he didn't care as he readied his greatsword in a tight stance, ready to take as many of the orcs with him as possible.
"Not today, Lothar," Knight-Champion Wice said as came to Lothar's side. In his hand was a grayish-blue rock glowing with arcane power from a weird rune in its center.
"What is that?" Lothar eyed the rock wearily.
"You weren't the only one with a plan, Lothar." The dark-skinned man smiled, his eyes full of respect toward Stormwind's Champion. "The Kingdom still has need of your skill and service. The other commanders and generals agreed."
"What are you talking about?" Lothar asked, but Wice's reply was to raise the stone and, to his surprise, place the stone inside his armor, behind his neck. "What did you do?"
"Conjurer Huglar said it was his life work, a foci for a personal teleportation spell that allowed one person to go back to a ley line rich area." Wice's answer made Lothar's eyes widened as he made to reach for the rock behind his neck even as his body began to glow blue. "Live well, Lothar, and remember us, brother."
Wice's salute was the last thing Lothar saw as his vision was filled with blinding blue light, forcing him to close his eyes to protect himself from the brightness. He felt his body lurch, bend, twist, and unravel until his feet landed on solid ground. The first thing that greeted him was the sound of startled gasps.
"L-Lothar?!" King Llane spoke up, making Lothar open his eyes. "How?"
Sure enough, he was in the throne room of Stormwind City. Llane was not alone as the nobles and other generals were there with Garona nearby. The female orc was giving him a queer look as if not believing her eyes that he had survived. However, all that he could think about was what his men had done, what they and the court conjurers had plotted. His grip around Ashkandi was so hard that he swore he could feel his bones breaking.
'Those goddamn noble fools!' Lothar thought angrily before it tapered off into sadness. Why did they deny him from fighting alongside them? However, he already knew the answer.
"Lothar!" Llane cried out joyously as he sprinted from his throne and clapped Lothar's arms, emotions swimming in his eyes. "How are you here? What happened to everyone else? Are they also back?"
"No." Lothar shook his head slowly and looked around the room. "They are all dead. I am the only survivor."
Lothar saw Llane's eyes fall while the nobles closed their eyes from the loss.
"However..." Lothar began. "We did complete our task."
Llane's confusion was mirrored by the generals and other nobles.
"We destroyed the Horde army in the Black Morass." Lothar allowed himself a small moment to enjoy their stunned expression. Even Garona's eyes widened in disbelief before he continued. "I also personally took the head of their leader, Blackhand. Their chain of command should be paralyzed now."
Pandemonium ensued as they all rushed to him, wanting to know what happened. Only now did Lothar allow himself a small smile.
'You caused this chaos, my brothers and sisters. I will make sure Stormwind's sons and daughters know of your heroic deeds and never forget them. This, I vow.'
*** The Redridge Mountains – Callan's Garrison***
There was a thick tension that choked the air inside the garrison. We knew an attack was going to hit, but we didn't know when so many people, myself included, started to do busy work to take our minds off of things.
One of the few things that we did these past few days was have the surviving engineers build as many catapults as they could. I tried to convey the idea of a trebuchet from Earth, but since I didn't know anything more than what it kind of looked like and what it did, we ended up having to go back to the catapult designs. If only I had a degree in engineering and studied ancient world warfare machines and tactics before I was transmigrated, then maybe I would have felt more helpful.
Rather than mocking my idea, the engineers were quite respectful and nice even when they had no idea what I was trying to convey. The only thing I did get across was that a trebuchet was supposed to be bigger than a catapult and mounted. However, all they did was make a bigger catapult and mounted it for me to see. So, I did what any good transmigrator would do when they didn't have degrees in engineering, ancient warfare tactics, and any feasible helpful idea. I shut the fuck up and stayed out of the way.
Luckily for me, Gavinrad often nudged me back on course for how to be a leader. Turns out all that I needed to do was delegate, stand around, and look pretty.
"Messenger!" A yell came from the top of the battlements.
"Open the gate!" Jenkins ordered as the newly reinforced gate let the messenger in. It was a scout from the 34th.
The messenger's gaze swept over the surroundings before he spotted me. I was already meeting him halfway when he disembarked and gave me a quick salute.
"New orders from Knight-Champion Gregory, Sir Callan." The messenger handed me the rolled-up parchment and waited. I took it from him and unrolled it, well aware that Gavinrad was hovering behind me.
'Master Sergeant Callan Lothar,
News of your victories have reached us and has been an inspiration in these dark times. We have detoured your refugees from Lakeshire into Elwynn and to Eastburg. After conferring with the other leaders, we have decided that we will evacuate Lakeshire and all of the towns of Redridge to Eastvale. I have given the Lakeshire legions and Stonewatch orders to hold out long enough for the people to get to safety. We will then destroy the bridge of Lake Everstill and fend them off on our side of the riverbank.
As such, you will need to hold your position for the people of Redridge to evacuate by acting as the bulwark against the attacking eastern orc forces. As of this letter, I am half a day's march from your position. They said you are in the Light's favor, and I hope that it does so once again for if you fall, we would be caught out of position and the people of Redridge will be defenseless.
Good Luck,
Knight-Champion Gregory'
Well shit, looks like even if I wanted to run, I couldn't. Orders were orders.
"Tell Knight-Champion Gregory that his orders have been received, and we will await his legion's arrival."
The messenger left even as I turned to Gavinrad to make plans, but nothing really came to mind. Though, the man appeared very confident, much more than I felt. That was likely the power of a veteran knight, and it probably helped that his inner paladin was showing more and more everyday to bolster said confidence.
"We will be ready for them, Callan. The Light is with us!"
'Yeah, sure,' I thought as I went to check up on our preparation. Or I would have if my scouts had not returned with news that the majority of the orcs had crossed the midland river.
Fuck.
"Jenkins! Keeshan! Clements!" My two subordinates and my militia man-at-arms walked over to me. The people insisted that half the militia stay with me even as they got the elderly and children away to Lakeshire–well, Elwynn now. Gavinrad and Mara convinced me that I should make the compromise for the people's peace of mind. What about my peace of mind?!
"Sir!" "Orders?" "Yes, milord?" The three said at once making me crack a small smile despite the dire situation. The way they said it made a small wave of nostalgia hit me. However, I quickly shook my head and got to the point.
"The scouts just reported that the main orc army has crossed the midland river." The men's faces went grim. Yeah, I couldn't blame them for it. "He also estimated that the orc's numbers are at about twenty thousand, but he also spotted another sizable force east of the midland river."
"That's much more than what Master Sergeant Wayne reported, Sir," Jenkins said.
"Yes, but we have some good news too," I said. The man's eyes snapped to me questioningly. "The 31st and 34th will be here within half a day's time."
Three pairs of eyes widened and small smiles broke out. We are getting help, but we still needed to hold out, especially against that roided-out orc warlock they got. When I questioned Wayne and Lowell, they believed that there were probably a dozen warlocks with the orc army.
"Jenkins and Keeshan, check and double-check our defenses."
"Sir!" The two snapped a quick salute and made off together.
"Clements, we only have a few more hours of peace. Feed everyone. It will be a very long day, I fear." My adjutant bowed low.
"Yes, Milord, I'll see it done at once."
"Gavinrad." I turned to the man who had a cheesy grin on his face. "What?"
"Nothing," the Knight replied and squared his shoulders. "Your orders, sir?"
I raised an eyebrow at the address. The man outranked me, after all.
"They might have ogres with them. Your knights are the only ones who can counter them without too many casualties."
Gavinrad's expression hardened. Yeah… he remembered those fat bastards, alright. They did a pretty good job holding off those ogres that breached the wall a few days back; it seemed that knights really were their counter for the human side.
"You can count on me, Callan," Gavinrad said as he went off to notify the Brotherhood, I presume.
Now, to talk to my little aces in the hole. I went over to the not-church and felt the Light being used. I was now sensitive to Light usage around me within a certain distance. It was something that I definitely had not experienced early on. My theory was that my constant use of the Light was like flexing a muscle; the more I use it, the more I have mastery over it. It also increased my stamina and came quicker to me, like changing out a gallon gas tank for a five-gallon one.
I made the turn that went around the town hall and saw ten clerics with hands raised to smite the hastily put together dummies in front of the not-church. Smites of varying power struck the lined-up dummies with some even being hard enough to make the dummy spin while others fizzling out upon contact.
"Sir Callan!" One of the young acolytes spotted me, calling attention to my person.
"Yo..." I gave them a two-finger wave and walked over to Mara who chopped down her training dummy with a new sword which was a two-hander similar to mine. She was getting closer in resemblance to the statue of her in Stormwind that I remembered from the game. "How are they, Mara?"
"Slower." Mara grimaced. "But that's to be expected. They're young and not used to wielding the Light in such a way."
"I thought a couple of them were older than you?" My face must have shown my amusement.
"It's a matter of seniority, Callan," Mara explained quickly with frosty eyes. Scary. "Things work differently in the order. Even if you are older in age you could be young in terms of rank seniority."
"I was only giving you a hard time," I told her and earned a glare from her for it. However, after enough fun, I became serious. "The orcs will be here soon."
Mara's face showed the shock she felt. Unfortunately, the others had stopped training when I was busy teasing her and so they heard it too. There were horrified gasps and some clerics were outright shaking.
"However, the 31st and 34th will be here within half a day, so we will only need to hold out for a few hours." My words reassure some of the clerics but I could see the nervousness in their body language.
"Where do you want us?" Mara stood tall and was soon joined by Victoria–who was looking extra milf-licous today–Delilah, Alyson, and Laura. "We await your orders, Callan."
"We'll use the formation I set up last time, only this time I will man the east. I have a feeling we'll be hit hardest there." I then turned my gaze to the other clerics and walked over to them. A quick scan of their demeanor made me realize how green they were. However, Mara and the others were just as green once upon a time. "I don't have much to say to you, but look to your senior sisters in the Light. They came to me just as unsure as the rest of you, but look at them now!"
I gave them a moment to look at the five battle clerics.
"You can be every bit as good as them given time," I continued. A few of them perked up at my words. Good. Believing they can do it was rule number one of Light usage. "Time is, unfortunately, something we do not have so I'll only ask a favor from you all if you'd hear me out?"
"What is it, Sir Callan?" I think it was the cleric called Donovan who replied. "We will do our best, sir!"
"Just take the pressure off of them. Heal the defenders so that Mara and the others can focus on smiting our enemies," I said simply.
"W-We can do that..." Donovan assured me. The other clerics also nodded their heads in agreement. Some were even shooting me a heated gaze which kind of made me feel like an even bigger dick by asking them to risk their lives like this.
"That's all I ask." I turned back to my battle clerics. "Get something to eat, ladies. You'll need the strength in the coming hours."
With that, I gave the clerics a wave and left. I quickly made my final checks and with nothing left to do, I went to the top of the parapet and sat on the wall. The scenery was so peaceful that you'd never know that a horde of murderous dicks was making their way here. With nothing better to do as everyone that had to do something was already doing it, I decided to keep myself busy. Taking out a whetstone and my trustworthy sword, I began to sharpen it.
The hardest part of war, I had heard before but now learned, was the waiting. Dark thoughts tended to flood a person's mind if left idle too long. Back on earth, I lived in the south along the coast; it was an area prone to bouts of hurricane weather. The wait for the orc army reminded me of that. It was the same calm feeling in the sky even though you knew something terrible was out there beyond your sight. All we could do then was wait for the storm to make landfall, just like now. Only, this time, it was a storm of orcs.
I lost myself in the task with my sword and before I knew it, it was a bit after noon. However, that was not what pulled my attention away from the job. No, it was the very soft, almost indecipherable echo in the distance. Anyone would have missed it with how low it was, but with the stillness in the air, I heard it. I wasn't the only one as several of my footmen perked up. The soft thump sounded again. Only, it was no longer as soft or as easy to miss. Gradually, the thumps became louder as time passed, and we all knew what that meant. The orcs were here.
"Everyone!" Jenkins barked. "Man your post!"
Once more, I lined the wall with the defenders and gazed into the distance. Unlike before where the wall defenders were thin leaving gaps, we were now packed shoulder to shoulder. The influx from the legion remnant really beefed up my forces, allowing for a tighter defensive formation. The orcs would have a hell of a time trying to climb these walls. For once, I was beginning to feel good about the situation.
We waited on the wall, standing stone statue still as the sound of the drumbeat got closer with every passing minute. It didn't take long for me to see the first of the orcs show themselves on the eastern horizon. They looked like a large mass of green blobs, and I became distinctly aware of how much more orcs they seem to have compared to us.
"Load catapults!" Keeshan sharply ordered. "Ready for adjustments!"
The adjustment was whatever the designated spotter on the battlement screamed down to the engineers for them to change the firing arc of said siege engines.
"Crossbowmen, ready!" Jenkins shouted as the orcs got closer. "Hunters, if you spot any spellcasters, they are priority targets!"
The orcs continued to close the distances between us, revealing more and more of their numbers. That was a god damn huge army, almost comparable to the ones that had besieged Stormwind.
"Steady!" I reassured the men. "They're more afraid of us than we are of them!"
That elicited some laughter among the wall even though experience had taught them otherwise. We turned our attention back to the approaching horde, ready for them to cross into our kill zone to begin the battle. However, something strange happened just as they were about to enter within range. They stopped. That was new; orcs usually just bum-rushed a fortification to my knowledge. Even their warlocks or necrolytes will have to get much closer to cast effective spells.
"Come on, you bastards," I muttered softly to myself. "What are you waiting for?"
That was when a little scene played out at the orcs' front line as an orc grunt were talking to a group of black-cloaked orcs–warlocks I realized–who were pointing in my direction. The orc grunt moved very animatedly and kept gesturing toward us and pointing at the ground. Was he perhaps a survivor from the failed assaults on the garrison?
When the grunt was finished with whatever he had to say, the black-cloaked figure disrespectfully pushed the orc away and walked alone to just outside my ranged unit kill zone. That allowed me to get a good look at the warlock. The orc was smaller than the grunt that he had just pushed which made sense since magic users were supposed to be smaller than warriors. He had some type of skull cap on his head and had bandages wrapped around his hands. Something about his appearance tickled at my memories. After all my time in Azeroth, I only managed to retain the broad strokes to many things. For the smaller stuff, the details were getting harder to recall.
"That's the one! That's the foul sorcerer that broke the legions!" Lowell pointed his sword at the orc warlock who smiled cruelly in return when he saw he was singled out.
Then to my utter surprise, he pointed to me. "Jiak liwo drepa lat shal ul name ro Gul'dan!"
Wait, did he just say Gul'dan?!
Then with slow deliberate movement, the warlock reached inside his robe and pulled something out, and held it high. It was an orb that was pitch black in color and radiated dark menacing power even from here. Something finally clicked in my distant memory, a small trivia that could be considered a footnote at best. It came hurtling to the forefront of my thoughts. My eyes widened in fear, and horror pooled in the pit of my stomach as I realized no one knew the danger they were in.
"Fire everything we have at that orc warlock now!" I roared and heard the whistling of crossbow bolts being released even as I turned my sights down to the siege engineers. "I need you to fire directly in front of me, roughly two hundred yards now!"
"Aye, milord!" The catapult was whirled in my direction and was probably cranked. "Pull! Pull! LOOSE!"
Ten balls of fire shot out from my garrison toward the orc warlock, but to my despair, the bolts fell a good twenty yards away from the orc position while the catapult's shot was only marginally closer. Even the splash damage from the explosion of their load couldn't reach the orc. The damn orc made eye contact with me and let out a cruel grin.
Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck~~!
"EVERYONE GET OFF THE WALLS! NOW!" I shouted as loud as possible, but it was too late as the orc pointed the orb at a section of the east wall. I felt the gathering of power, impossibly large amounts concentrating just above the parapet before it was unleashed. That section, soldiers and all, was reduced instantly to cinders by green fire, leaving a gash in the wall as if someone had taken a bite out of it.
It really was the mother fucking Ashbringer!
"MOVE IT!" I shouted at the soldiers who were shocked by what just happened. Luckily, my voice cut through their stupor and was able to jump off just in time before the warlock's next attack struck the gate. A lot of the men hurt themselves from the fall but a broken leg or arm was better than being burnt to a crisp I'd say!
The gate groaned and buckled; there was even a burning smell coming from it, but it held. I suddenly remembered that the orc had been killed by a ballista shot in lore which was great to know, except we didn't have any fucking ballistas with us! Fuck, what was I going to do?!
I knew the story of the Ashbringer well, or as well as Blizzard had told it which was very loosely. Some speculated that the Ashbringer was a piece from the Naaru, K'ara, an entity made of Light. Some might even call them angels or gods of Light. They were also gods of darkness too as those wind-chime-looking agents of the Light had an emo dark phase where they channeled nothing but void and shadow. Right now, that piece out there was in the emo dark phase and, in the hand of that orc warlock, was fucking dangerous as hell.
"Abandon the battlements!" Jenkins's warning came too late as another green fiery energy broke one of the battlements on the wall, causing it to fall into the garrison. The crossbowmen on the other battlements saw what happened and rushed to slide down the ladder before it was blown up.
The warlock must have been frustrated when the east wall emptied of defenders, proving no more easy pickings.
"Jenkins, make sure the others are ready to abandon their walls too if the warlock makes his move," I ordered my second in command.
"Get ready," Gavinrad spoke as he drew his sword. "They might rush our fortification now."
Damn, that didn't even occur to me. I nodded my consent and heard the sound of drawn steel. There was a moment of silence as a loud orc voice could be heard saying something, followed by laughter from his army. Swallowing hard, I took deep breaths as I channeled the Light, getting ready for probably the fight of my life.
THOOM!
"What–" It was Keeshan who voiced everyone's thoughts as the reinforced gate shook again. Because of our time for prep, the gate was reinforced with steel, making it much tougher than it was initially. "They're attacking the gate?"
THOOM! THOOM! THOOM!
The gate continued to tremble from the attacks again and again until finally, after what seemed like an eternity, there was a loud gut-wrenching ripping sound as the steel-reinforced wood tore and fell into my garrison. Our main gate, the heaviest fortified structure in the entire garrison was broken. There were the sounds of orcs celebrating in their usual manners with a bestial roar and mocking laughter.
Those crossbowmen or hunters in the battlement further behind the east gate were not idle as they never stopped firing their weapons, but if the east gates couldn't reach the warlock, they stood no chance. The situation went from worse to complete shit. We were outnumbered, and they had fucking Ashbringer on their side. Worse, everyone was looking at me, shocked by the orc warlock's spell, and expecting me to do something about it. What could I do? It wasn't like I had Frostmourne laying around somewhere!
"Callan, should we…" Gavinrad who had been hyped before now appeared solemn. I did not know and shook my head to tell him. If we flee now, they would just tear us apart, but there was a chance that some survivors might make it through. However, if we stayed, we were all dead.
I wasn't the only one who knew that as Gavinrad and my commanders, all had the same look on their faces. It was one where you came to terms with your own mortality. I often wore such expressions in private recently. I scanned all the other faces and all of them were resigned to either fight or flee, but whatever option they chose, it would result in their death anyway. It was when I looked at Mara and her sisters that I saw something surprising. Unwavering faith.
What. The. Fuck. Ladies?! Now was not the time to be making those eyes at me! Look at your fellow clerics! They're scared shitless!
'Stop looking at me with those eyes. You too, Victoria!' I mentally chided them. However, they weren't done. Delilah, Alyson, and Laura all smiled and nodded in my direction. 'Seriously?! Like really, seriously?! Read the room, please!'
"Get ready, boys." Gavinrad's voice brought me out of my chaotic thoughts. All of the soldiers, unlike my five clerics, read the room perfectly. They were resigned to dying, but weren't going to make it cheap. Worse of all, they gave me a look of understanding as if this was all I could do after all. They didn't blame me. That, more than anything, hurt in a way that I did not expect.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuuuuucck!
There must be something I could do right? I had the Anduin cheat, damnit, but that was Ashbringer out there! Ashbringer! How do you even fi–!
It suddenly hit me. Thatwasn't Ashbringer, at least not yet! My eyes shot to the Orc warlock confidently standing outside with his army behind him. They were doing their usual hype song and dance. I then looked at my flag bearer who held the seven-foot pole with the lion banner fluttering softly. A crazy idea began to form in my head. It was a long shot, but it was better than nothing.
"Nate, give me the flag," I told the flag bearer. The perplexed man handed it to me even as I could feel my soldiers' eyes on me. "Everyone, I need you all to stay here."
Well... let's see if my crazy plan pays off. With the flag in my hand, I stood up and saw my battle clerics gaze at me with that same blinding faith while the other clerics had allowed fear to overtake them long ago.
"Callan, what are you planning to do?" Gavinrad's eyebrow furrowed as he watched me begin to walk through the broken gates.
"Something crazy," I said, shaking my head as I left the safety of my garrison.
Exhaling hard, I looked across the battlefield right at the warlock and raised the Lion Flag of Stormwind high to make sure the other orcs could see me. Then, after walking forward a good distance away from my garrison, I slammed the flagpole down hard onto the ground, letting everyone–orcs and humans–hear the impact. Not done, I raised it once more and slammed it down a second time. With that done, I lifted my arm and pointed at the amused orc warlock before I uttered one single word that was the linchpin of my entire plan.
"Mak'goraaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!"
The orcs, down to every single grunt, went silent at my declaration. Their drum beats stopped along with the foot stamping as thousands of eyes were now on me, looking at me, judging me. Even the warlock's face was morphing into one of confusion as if not quite sure if he had heard what I said correctly.
Time to up the ante.
'Come on, orc warrior culture. Don't fail me now!' I thought as I raised the flag high for all to see and slammed it down again. This time, the flag–with my Light enhanced strength–was embedded into the ground. I let go of the flag and walked forward, the wind buffeting the banner–making it flutter behind me–as I walked closer to the orc line. It was suicide, a lone human marching toward the orc's lines of thousands.
Judging that I got close enough so all of the orcs could see me clearer, I pointed to the orc warlock directly.
"Mak'gora!" I challenged again, still pointing to the warlock.
The orcs finally reacted as they really did hear me request an honor duel in orcish no less. The warlock's face pinched in distaste, but the orc leader must have said something as I saw the warlock point to him, in particular his war axe. I wasn't going to let the warlock weasel out on a technicality.
"Mak'gora!" I shouted again and drew my sword with one hand pointing it at the orc warlock. With a smile, I proceeded to stun them by tossing the sword far away from me. The orc leader let out a short barking laugh before letting it turn into a full-bellied one when he witnesses me removing my armor piece by piece and letting it drop to the ground. When the last piece fell to the ground, I was now dressed in simple clothes: a white shirt and blue pants. I raised my hand once more and pointed to the warlock.
"Mak'gora."
I didn't need to shout this time as the orcs were all looking at me and nodding in approval. It was the orc leader who stepped forward, making me think my plan failed when he turned around and spread his arm wide.
"Mak'goraaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!" The orc leader shouted.
"MAK'GORAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!" the orcs responded loudly.
"Callan, what are you doing?" Gavinrad, who I didn't realize was behind me, asked.
"Stay back! Stay far back!" I shouted and waved him and the others back, their confusion clearly on their faces. "This might be our only hope."
"But we can't let you stand alone, Callan!" Mara protested. That bloodthirsty girl!
"We must place our faith in Callan, Mara." Victoria's gentle voice could be heard. Hurrah for the milf hottie who gets it! I heard the sound of metal armor shuffling back toward the garrison. Whew, that was a relief. I didn't want to give the warlock any excuse to back out.
At this time, the orcs were stamping their feet once more, beating their chest again, but this time, they were chanting a familiar word.
"Mak'gora! Mak'gora! Mak'gora! Mak'gora! Mak'gora!"
Peer pressure was a thing in orc culture and with thousands of orcs demanding to see a magical duel of sorts, the orc warlock caving was only a matter of time. It occurred to me that maybe many of them had never witnessed a magical duel before and were curious as to what one looked like.
"Mak'gora," I said one last time while pointing to the warlock. The chant from the orcs' grunts kept repeating, and I saw the warlock let out a frustrated huff.
"Mak'gora!" the warlock spat out and a loud cheer rose from the orcs.
The orc leader, in a show of sportsmanship, barked an order and a moment later, the Horde army began to shuffle back a fair distance. The orc warlock's face twisted as if he had just eaten a very sour lemon. I noticed his warlock buddies were also ordered back by the leader.
Finally, it was just me and the orc warlock standing in the center between our two respective forces.
"Human," the orc warlock surprisingly spoke up in a manner I could understand. "Die soon!"
His beady red eyes showed the rage he felt for me as he held the Ashbringer orb in his hand and quickly pointed it at me.
"Sharakh zaham kirol!"
I let the Light enhance my body and reflexes as I dodged quickly to the left. There was backwash from the green explosion that brushed against me, but the worst of it was avoided. The fact that he had to verbally cast the spell with hand waving gave me all the time I needed to avoid his area-wide attack.
"Sharakh zaham kirol! Zar Kum!" He pointed again in my direction, destroying the spot I was in but got frustrated when I dodged the worst.
"That's all you got, orc?" I tried to sound as insulting as possible. The black energy twisting above let me know that I succeeded as he let loose another yell of anger. Once more, he missed again since–by the time he took to lock onto an area–I had already moved. For good measure, I flicked off my middle finger at him, and while he didn't understand what it meant, the meaning was not lost on him.
"Try your best, you twat!" I continued to zigzag, constantly moving to avoid a fatal hit and was getting a little closer to him every time. On his last attack, I gave him a double bird special.
Perhaps, it was the mocking laughter from his peers or maybe it was my constant taunting. Whatever it was, the warlock spoke some sort of curse before he simply lob powerful dark energy at me. A spell like that, which was cast instantly, tended to be a lot weaker than channeled spells.
That was exactly what I was waiting for.
"Aegis!" I stopped zigzagging and ran straight at him. A flash of golden light let me know that my Holy Word: Aegis was ripped apart from the impact of the spell. It just showed how strong this warlock was, but I kept refreshing the shield while charging the warlock at a dead run. "Aegis! Aegis! Aegis! Aegis!"
The warlock must have realized something was wrong when I was almost upon him. He thrust his hand out with the shadowy orb and made to channel a spell, not knowing that I wanted to get my hand on said orb this entire time.
"Hurrh?" The warlock stopped his spell casting as my hand finally landed on his void orb.
PAIN! SO MUCH PAIN!
The first thought in my head as pain wracked my body was that the Ashbringer comic book did not do Alexandros Mograine's suffering justice. Its shadowy energy burned like nothing I had ever experienced before in any of my lifetimes, and I had been scalded by boiling water before. My hand was blackening before my very eyes, much to the warlock's amusement. His twisted grin became wider, showing his sharpened teeth, as he pushed the orb against my hand to inflict more pain on me.
Thanks, twat.
I curled my hand around it and began to glow golden bright, chanting all the way to amplify the Light energy pouring into me. There was confusion on the orc's face when I grabbed the orb, but that turned to fear when he saw me glow gold.
"Hragghhh!" The orc warlock tried to pull the void orb from my grip, but I refused. He then tried to reverse course and pushed the orb into me while pouring dark Fel energy into it to kill me. However, my Light infused strength was more than a match for his Fel enhanced ones, stalemating us much to his shock.
This was it; this was do or die. In the warcraft lore, a group of priests and paladins got together and kept pumping Light energy into the orb to destroy it. Gradually, they noticed a change in it, and it didn't take them long to realize that its original form was inclined toward the holy alignment. I wasn't sure if I was as strong as them, but unlike the warlock who was wasting his power on trying to kill me, I saved mine and hoped that by pumping everything I had into the shadowy orb, it would do the trick. Green and black energies mixed with my own golden one as I poured every ounce of my holy power into the Ashbringer orb.
"Narrragghhhh!" The warlock roared in pain. Something must have changed in the orb! It was now hurting him just like how it was hurting me! The proof was in his bandaged hand which was now blackened like mine. In fact, I could see that the orb was no longer as dark as before.
"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaah!" I screamed from the pain but kept pouring the Light into the orb. Gradually, the pitch black orb became a lighter shade of black before quickly turning completely purple, then a dark blue, until finally, it became light blue.
"Kil!" the warlock shouted as he fired a Fel bolt of energy at me. I felt it burn me, but I was healed instantly from all the holy energies I had in my body. Seeing that it was ineffective, he balled his fist and brought it down onto my head making me staggered forward but I quickly reoriented myself.
"Fuck off!" I roared as I uppercutted his jaw with my left fist.
It was probably not the most elegant way to fight. He was just trying to bash my head in with his free arm, and I retaliated by throwing hay-makers at his face with my own. In the middle of our fight the light blue orb began shifting to a darker green color. It did not stay on green for long as I noticed the warlock's dark aura became much smaller than my golden one. That must have been why the orb rapidly went from the dark green color to a lighter emerald one.
I looked up and saw real fear in the warlock's eyes as his blackened hand looked incredibly withered and gaunt. It must have been because the nerves in his hand were weakened from the feedback of the orb which allowed me to finally push it forward out of his hand, but I wasn't done. Now, without Fel and shadow energy countering my own Light energy, the orb was able to absorb it fully.
Light green turned into...what the fuck? Red? That was not how the color spectrum worked! Red shifted to orange, but only for a moment until it shifted one final time and became a bright golden color shining in my healed hand.
"Ul mubullat star!" The warlock sounded fearful and worried.
I looked up at the warlock who was backing up in fear, his eyes riveted on the orb in my hand.
"Say hello to K'ara, asshole!" I jumped into the orc's personal space and pressed K'ara against the orc's skin and pumped holy energy into the orb so that it could amplify it into the warlock. The warlock roared in pain but could no longer move as if he was immobilized. Web-like cracks of holy light sprawled out from where the orb touched the warlock's skin until it spread completely throughout his body.
"AAAAAAAARAGHHHH!" The warlock gave out a final scream as I pressed the orb harder against his chest until he exploded. Surprisingly, there was no blood, gristle, or bones. Just holy fire and ashes.
Panting, I held the orb gently and looked at it. It glowed soft golden light and perhaps, it was a trick, but it felt...happy? Suddenly, I felt the energy I expended rush back to me.
"K'ara?" My eyes widened as I realized the source was coming from the orb.
"Callan! Get back!" Gavinrad's shout shook me out of my stupor as I looked up and realized the orcs were charging at me. The leader, who had been so amused before, was now enraged. He must have knew that he fucked up.
Time for me to get the hell out of dodge! With Ashbringer in my hand, we could hold! Just as I made to turn, the air hummed with a familiar power.
"Fear not sons and daughters of Stormwind! Salvation has arrived!" A booming voice echoed through the sky before lightning poured forth from it. It rained down on the orcs, causing chaos. While it killed many instantly, it did not seem like an army killer overall. I quickly realized that was not its purpose. It was made to break the Horde's momentum, to turn their entire lines into a chaotic mess as they try to avoid the lightning strike. As an orc once said in Warcraft 3, they feared no living thing since they could fight and kill them, but when the elements and spirits turned on them? They became scared.
VROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAM!
A loud horn sounded as suddenly, thousands of Stormwind soldiers rushed out from the trees on the orc flank, carrying the banner of the 31st and 34th legion. How did they get here so fast? Why didn't we see them? I had a million and one questions, but from behind me, my own garrison sounded a similar war horn. The battle cry of my soldiers resounded as they poured out to join their fellow Stormwindians.
The orcs, now in disarray, made for easy picking for the combined forces of Elwynn and Redridge soldiers. The lighting continued for a long stretch, seemingly fighting with the soldiers as it targeted and harassed clusters of orc troops. Eventually, it stopped when the orcs broke and ran east with the Stormwind legions nipping at their heels.
'Was that it? Was it really over that easy?' I thought as I stared at the pursuing soldiers' backs. I heard the sound of footstep crunching on the ground approaching me.
"You surprise me again and again, young Callan." A tired but familiar voice came from behind me.
I quickly turned to face Medivh who appeared exhausted from casting the lightning spell. Guess the Guardian can only do so much now that I think about it; the Lighting strike probably killed a thousand while the rest died in the bedlam it created. By his side was also a young mag–wait a minute...was that Khadgar?!
"I came here to save you only to find you in need of none!" The Guardian sounded amused. However I was still staring at the young mage next to him.
It must be Khadgar! And what this? Wa-was mother fucking badass O.G. Khadgar looking at me in awe?
'Dude! I'm in awe of you!' Was what I wanted to tell him.
"W–We talked with your refugees," Khadgar blushed at his stuttering and looked embarrassed by his slip-up. "Is–is it true you beat back orcs ten times your number and brought thousands back from the dead?!"
Before I could answer, Medivh interrupted me with a smile.
"Tales of your valor are being spread by the refugees you saved, my young friend," Medivh said as his eyes seemed to be appraising me before his eyes drifted lower. That was when I remembered what I had in my hand. Shit! Unfortunately, I was too late in hiding it as Medivh's amused expression turned to one of curiosity and greed as his eyes fell onto the orb I was holding.
"Oh, son of Lothar...now, what is it that you have there?"
I'm fucked!
***Past, Present, Future- Cavern of Time***
Chromie was in her cave, thinking about returning to the Western Plaguelands in Lordaeron when she heard panicked cries outside. Said panicked cries were drawing closer to her cave, just in time for her to see that it was her brood brother Sa'at who was making all that racket. However, she saw the fear on his face when he stopped before her.
"It's unraveling! You were right, sister!" Sa'at told her as he picked her up and ran to the window of time, not noticing her overwhelmed expression at being dragon-handled this way.
"What is unraveling? What was I right about?" Chromie asked as she bounced on her brood brother's shoulders. She had many things going on after all, and all of them could be potentially unraveling.
"You were right about the time quakes; you were right to be concerned about the First War!" Sa'at sounded hysterical. She knew that annoying thread was going to come back to bite them all in the tail! She just knew it!
It did not take them long to reach the window of time where several other dragons were looking at the splintered time stream. Chromie's eyes searched for the anchor marks and traced them back. Lich King's rise, Culling of Stratholme, imprisonment of the orcs, the dark portal closing, Lothar's death, the beginning of the second war, and then… and then that was it?
"Where's the destruction of Stormwind?!" Chromie yelled as she searched for the landmark. "What changed?!"
"I don't know!" Sa'at shouted as he looked at the other bronze dragons. "I need everyone's help; I can't find the thread that changed everything alone."
"Of course!" Chromie said as she began combing through the timeline. Her other brood brothers and sisters also did the same.
It did not take them long, but under the combined eyes of her brood mates, they found the thread. They had to prune it now and snuff out that thread. They didn't even have time to search for champions!
"Got it! Let us go!" Chromie transformed into her true form and headed deeper into the cavern of time.
TBC...
AN: First of all as always, Icura, my wordsmith brotha, thanks! Second, thanks for everyone who read and comment! Love the discussion! Now onto my notes.
Yeah, I went there, ya'll forgot about that didn't ya! Admit it! Add to that that hes finally on his greatest fear radar! What is Callan to do? Find out next time on Lost Lion, same time same channel.
Anywho on some other odds notes. I don't know the orcish language, I just use the orcish translator and whatever is spits out I copy and paste. What the orc warlock said to Callan was "I will kill you in the name of Gul'dan." and the second part was "It'can't be, the Dark Star!" For anyone what was curious. As for the spells he used. I have no idea, but that what he chanted in the Ashbringer comic so I copied it there and yes it was an AOE spell.
Anywho, thank you once more for reading:) Feedback and discussion is always welcome and in fact empower me. See ya next time!
To my fanfic readers: I am not sure if you can make it out but there is a thumbnail of Callan now attached to this story. The real picture of Callan a fan art by queenie (Thanks queenie!) is on Spacebattle. For those interested. She promised a couple of more so I will share as it gets sent to me!