The Curse is a story about a Mutiny in the Forsaken all across Azeroth, forcing Sylvanas Windrunner to retreat across Azeroth. During the attacks, the rebel Forsaken have caused the all ready twisted Garrosh Hellscream to declare war on the Kingdom of Quel'Thalas, the Forsaken and anyone who dare stand in the way of his plans. While the Rebel's influence continues to spread, the remains of the Undead Scourge continue to wreck havoc across Azeroth. When the Forsaken attack, the Burning Legion re-enters Azeroth to finally defeat the mortal races.
- Sylvanas Windrunner
- Varimathras (mentioned)
- Grand Apotheracy Putress (mentioned)
- Garrosh HellScream
- Cairne Bloodhoof
- Lor'themar Theron
- Vol 'jin
- King Varian Wrynn
- High Lord Bolvar Fordragon (mentioned)
- Aduin Wrynn
- Tyrande Whisperwind
- Magni Bronzebeard
- Gelbin Mekkatorque
- Jaina Proudmoore
- Tyera Nightwhisper
- Hevani Sunstorm
- Liroke Dirtwhisperer
- Enchantere the Stealthed (flashback and mentioned)
Part 1: UprisingEdit
Jerl Soulreeper was being dragged slowly through the echoing halls by two Forsaken honour guards. Jerl was an incredibly talented user of demonology and affliction, being a very powerful warlock. The two guards continued to drag him; they passed through the final hall to the royal room where Sylvanas stood. “Lady Sylvanas, we have found this criminal preaching about rebellion and mutiny. What should we do with him?” the left guard asked his master. Jerl watched with no content. Sylvanas knelt down, being face-to-face with Jerl. She then stood back up, “You should-”
“Kneel before me. Guards!” Jerl bellowed. The guards which circled the room lifted their rifles. Sylvanas looked at Jerl, “I believe you know where I’m going with this.” Jerl clicked his fingers, and two Succubuses’ appeared out of thin air. The two guards released their grip of Jerl and went to grab their weapons. The two Succubuses then whipped the axe from the guards and grasp and, with their spiked whips, slashed the Undead’s throats. The two guards held their throats and collapsed, slowly dying. Jerl activated another spell and summoned five Imps. There beady, yellow eyes primed on Sylvanas, she reacted too quickly for them and fired a short burst of arrows into three of them. The tiny creatures perished under the damage of the piercing shot. The surrounding guards then all fired their weapons; Sylvanas ducked and fired another shot, which slammed right into a Succubuses’ chest, killing her. The two Blood Elves then came into the fight and started to duel the guards with their weapons. The Ambassador unleashed a fireball, which impacted so fierce on the target; its head was knocked right off. Sylvanas fired another two shots, eliminating the other two imps. Jerl moved backwards, out of the fighting area, he then prepared a summoning spell, which let out a purple glow. Sylvanas ducked underneath an Undead’s attack and quickly slashed him with her blade. The Undead collapsed and Sylvanas stabbed the weakened soul in the chest, he died. The Ambassador unleashed an icy wave which froze several Undead in their place. But as the Ambassador prepared to create a spiral of arcane, a guard, which wasn’t in the blast radius of the ice, came up behind him and stabbed the Ambassador in the back, heavily wounding him. The Ambassador fell with a thud. The Paladin soon came in and slashed three guards with one swing of her blade. Sylvanas fired a five shot burst from her bow, killing the remaining guards. The Paladin then knelt down and started to treat the wound of the Ambassador with her holy magic. Sylvanas then pulled out her blade. The second Succubus then came in and attempted to slash Sylvanas, she herself reacted and grabbed the un-spiked part of the whip and pulled the Succubus towards her. She looked at the Succubus’ illuminating blue, glowing eyes and whispered, “Say goodbye, bitch.” Sylvanas and then stabbed the demon in the chest. The Demon collapsed under the force of the attack, chocking on her own blood. The skirmish had been won by the Forsaken.
The Victory did not last as Jerl’s summoning spell was complete and two Infernals crashed through the doorway, Sylvanas fired another arrow, it crashed into the Infernal’s chest and stuck there. Sylvanas looked up, the Infernal charged her. He slammed his fist, Sylvanas dodged and rolled over. A pile of dust spread as the Infernal slammed his fist against the floor. Jerl had now summoned even more demons. At-least twenty imps were marching under the command of two Voidwalkers into the room. Felhunters came inside next; Sylvanas fired another shot, killing an imp. A Voidwalker swung its arm at Sylvanas; Sylvanas grabbed its collar, jumped on-top of it, and stabbed it in its head. The Voidwalker dissolved in a small wave of shadow. Sylvanas turned towards the two Infernals again; she leapt underneath the Infernal’s legs and towards Jerl. Sylvanas then pulled out her sword and stabbed Jerl straight in the heart. Jerl collapsed from the blow, gasping for air, until he fell silent. The two Infernals walked over to the Ambassador and the Paladin, before the Paladin reacted, a fist slammed into both of them. The final Voidwalker moved up to the heavily wounded Blood Elf. He punched her straight in the face, finishing her off. Sylvanas shot another three imps before walking back through the hallways. Two of her ex-honour guards pulled out their axes and attempted to kill her. Sylvanas pulled out her own sword and the three clashed. The second guard swung the axe towards her head; Sylvanas ducked and slashed the distracted guard, killing him. The blade then penetrated the skin of the other guard, finishing him off. Sylvanas looked back, a swirling dark magic was beaming over the corpse of Jerl. The swirls then converted to ten separate lines in a circular form around his body. The lines exploded, and the body of Jerl shook. It moved its hand, and then it rose up again, Jerl laughed, “Did you really think you can defeat me so easily?”
Sylvanas gasped and readied her blade. She charged towards Jerl, but Jerl reacted and cast a shield spell, Sylvanas could not penetrate it. “If I were you, my dear, I would leave this place before I got hurt,” Jerl said laughing. Sylvanas knew he was telling the truth, she had to escape the city. She ran through the halls, leaving many dead bodies in her path. Sylvanas crossed the nearest bridge, from here, she could see everything. The Undead fighting each over, Orc warriors were slashing through undead traitors, but the Civilians were underestimated and unleashed powerful spells among the warriors. Sylvanas rushed through the streets; she stabbed an attacker along the way. Rushing towards the bank, Sylvanas, now the enemy of the Forsaken stabbed an archer who was attacking her. Sylvanas made it to the bank, the Spirit banker was duelling with a traitor. The traitor got a good shot and stabbed the Apparition. The banker dissolved and died. Sylvanas ran past the corpse of the dead Bat handler. The bats themselves were fighting warriors. The lifts were still working; the Orcs were keeping a loose hold on them. Sylvanas rushed into the machine. The lift rose up through the air at an increasing speed. Within a matter of ten seconds, the lift had made it to the top, into the ruins. Undead warriors and civilians alike tore each over to pieces, Sylvanas rushed up a set of stairs. She bellowed, “All those faithful to the Forsaken, to the Orb of Translocation!”
Almost half of the civilians rushed towards Sylvanas. Some of the warriors did as-well, “Quickly, the enemy approaches!” Sylvanas called. The group of twenty-five rushed towards the glowing orb, the orb activated, teleporting the group. A Blood Elf mage stood on the other side, Sylvanus shouted to him, “Quick, deactivate the orb. The enemy is enclosing on its position!”
The Mage cast an arcane spell on the orb, the glow quickly dimmed. The twenty-five civilians glared at their leader, they had made it, but how many others will?
Two Dragonhawkes flew over the dusty sands of Durotar. The two Dragonhawkes lowered and flew as quick as a flash through the village of Razor Hill. The formation of rock looked like a jagged piece of shard because of the cracks forming together in the speed. The mounts flew straight over a Tauren’s horns, almost hitting them. A gust of wind swept through the grand entrance to the city of Ogrimmar. The hawks turned left and right through the streets until they reached the Drag. The two mounts shifted and flew straight through the right side of the Cleft of Shadows and exited through the left. The mounts then finally stopped at the front gate to Thrall’s old keep. The Banshee Queen and a Blood Elf Ambassador leapt of the beasts. Garrosh’s honour guards, which had replaced Thrall’s, were standing motionless, soundless, forever staring for enemies. Sylvanas and the Ambassador stepped through the front door; the Keep had grown since Thrall’s reign. The Front Room was like half the size of the Crusader Tournament arena. The moment Sylvanas stepped in, the second she realised how Garrosh had changed the Horde. “You cannot do this mon!” a Troll was telling a Guard. “We demand to see da king!” another said.
“I’m sorry by law of Garrosh Hellscream, all non-Orcs in the city are to be evacuated and removed from the city!” a guard said.
“We demand respect!” a Troll shouted out swinging his axe at the guard. The guard lifted his own axe, which clashed with the Troll’s rusty, used weapon. The Guard held his weapon midway and butted the Troll in the chest, knocking him over. “This be not over!” the troll said spluttering.
“Now please, leave the throne room, we have enough trouble with Forsaken refugees and Tauren survivors who can’t get access to Mulgore,” the other guard pleaded.
“Enough, rise up and strike dem down!” the injured Troll bellowed. The civilians raised there poorly crafted weapons and began to strike the guards. Sylvanas and the Ambassador quickly ran through the fighting guards. The next section of the keep was like a desert courtyard to the Throne Room. It was filled with Forsaken refugees and wounded. Sylvanas stared in horror of the state of her people. A person sat next to a wall, coughing uncontrollably. A female Forsaken came over to him and gave him a piece of bread, then sat down next to him. Sylvanas walked through the poor, sick and wounded and up to the stairs. Several Tauren druids were on their knees begging for protection. “Why can’t Garrosh muster the nerve to engage in negotiation with us?” the Druid questioned. The Guard sighed. Even the Guard knew that none of this would be happening if Thrall was still in charge. Sylvanas walked through the pathway, the Forsaken overjoyed that their Queen was safe and undamaged.
“Our Dark Lady,” a Forsaken called.
“She lives,” interrupted another Forsaken.
“I can’t believe it!” the coughing undead spluttered.
Sylvanas continued to walk through the area; she walked straight through the Druids. She cleared her throat, “Allow me to speak with Garrosh this instant!” she ordered.
“I’m sorry, even you cannot speak with the King, Banshee Queen.” The guard assured.
“Perhaps you misunderstood my sentence, I wasn’t asking. Let me speak with Garrosh Hellscream.” Sylvanas said, staring directly into the guard’s eyes. The guard dared not stare into the red, glowing eyes. He gasped for air, “You cannot speak with the King.” He stared into her evil, crimson eyes; his body was overtaken by fear.
“Well, that’s too bad. I suppose you’ll have to accept my… murder!” Sylvanas whispered, pulling out her blade.
“Wha-” the guard said as the blade penetrated his skin. The guard gasped, he felt his soul draining from his body. After three seconds, the guard gave up his fight, and collapsed to the ground. “Wait, you can’t do-” the other guard said as Sylvanas slashed him in the throat with her blade. She looked down towards her people, “The time of judgement is at hand, Garrosh must allow the Forsaken safety in this time of need!” With that message uproar of cheers volleyed towards Sylvanas. The Ambassador suggested going through the door. The Dark Lady turned around and slowly walked inside the Throne Room. The second she entered, there was hundreds of slain horde scattered across the room. Trolls, Blood Elves, Forsaken and even Tauren Warriors lay down, breathless. A blood elf sorcerer stood in front of Garrosh. “You must speak to us, this is urgent!” Garrosh did not listen and he swung his left axe at the elf. Her fragile, weakened body silently fell to the floor. Garrosh turned and sat back down on his throne.
“Garrosh,” Sylvanas bellowed across the room. Garrosh’s eyes widened. “What do you want, undead?”
“You cannot deny the sick and wounded. Another uprising has occurred in the Undercity. Jerl Soulreeper is planning to attack Ogrimmar!” Sylvanas called.
“I do not believe that the puny undead can penetrate these walls; besides, how do I know you are telling the truth?” Garrosh said slowly lifting himself up.
“Because the Blood Elf scouts have informed me that the rebels have taken over the Zeppelin towers,” Sylvanas explained.
“Elves eyes are green and glowing; I don’t even think they can see five foot in front of them.” Garrosh countered. Sylvanas slowly moved closer; the ambassador moved to the side of the room. He accidentally tripped over a dead Tauren.
“You are an incompetent buffoon, Garrosh.” Sylvanas insulted. Garrosh stood up fully and went to grab his axes.
“Do not toy with elf; I know your kind, thieving, magic sucking creatures.” Garrosh shouted calmly. Sylvanas slowly grabbed a long, oak wood arrow from her quiver. The Ambassador grabbed the body and stood up again. “I am no Blood Elf, fiend. I was a high elf, the gentle and true species.” Sylvanas spat.
“It no longer matters, Banshee Queen,” Garrosh growled. Garrosh charged Sylvanas, she retaliated and fired her arrow directly at Garrosh, hitting his left axe and snapping it in half. Sylvanas grabbed her long, glowing blade and parried Garrosh’s attack. Garrosh swung once again, but his axe was no match for Sylvanas’ skill with a blade. Sylvanas quickly pushed him back with her blade. She grabbed another arrow and shot, hitting Garrosh’s other axe, this time only pushing it out of his hand. Garrosh grunted, “Soldiers of the Horde, attack!”
The Ambassador spoke, “Sylvanas, I will deal with the soldiers, do not lose attention while fighting Garrosh!”
The Ambassador rounded up the guards together, then his hands turned illuminating blue. A circle of ice exploded from underneath his feet, freezing the guards within place. It shattered their armour almost completely shattered. A blue, swirling circle then appeared in the area of frozen Orcs, thick shards of frozen ice barraged the area, slicing through the guards individually.
Meanwhile, Sylvanas leapt backwards, dodging another of Garrosh’s strikes. She fired once again, this time it hit him in the shoulder blade; bouncing off the saronite armour. Sylvanas ducked and jumped onto Garrosh’s axe. She leapt onto his shoulder blade and jumped towards the throne. The dying blood elf sorcerer was almost stepped on by Sylvanas. She bellowed from the highest point in the room, “Civilians of the Forsaken, destroy him!”
With that command, Forsaken littered the room with their poorly crafted weapons. Garrosh swung his axe, and one of the Undead’s jaws flew through the air. A Forsaken ran up to Garrosh and head butted him. The remaining guards clashed with the Forsaken. Darkspear Trolls then finally made it into the room. The druids then flooded the room and entangled the guards with roots. Sylvanas fired another arrow, which sliced Garrosh’s axe in half. Garrosh’s veins almost burst and he shouted, “That’s enough!” He then activated a hidden defence system of Thrall’s inside the room. A small shield encased the Throne and Garrosh. The Ambassador knew what was happening and rushed towards the Dark Lady. Suddenly, bolts of Lightning randomly fired across the room. A druid shouted, “We have been cheated!” A lightning bolt ripped straight through her chest, killing her. Trolls were falling, and the Forsaken all decided to join their Queen and retreated either out of the room or to Sylvanas. The lightning then became more violent. One strike then hit the floor next to a troll. It shocked the creature and spread to all the others. A beam then struck the shield, but it was absorbed completely by it. The electricity then faded, and all the Trolls and Druids were dead. The purple, flickering shields then deactivated. Garrosh laughed in victory until he turned back to his throne. His eyes widened once again.
“You, why do you still have the nerve to live, Sylvanas” Garrosh screamed to Sylvanas. Sylvanas lowered her bow, “You are defeated Garrosh, I will spare your life, however.”
“Why, creature of death?” Garrosh asked in confusion.
“Because when the invasion arrives, nobody will help you…” Sylvanas said as the Ambassador opened a portal to Silvermoon. Sylvanas stepped through; the Ambassador pulled the dying blood elf through. The portal shut behind them. Sylvanas knelt down next to the dying sorcerer, “We will help you. You are going to live.”
“No, I wont,” the sorcerer said coughing up blood, “I’m too weak to manage it.”
The Ambassador knelt down as well. He spoke as gentle as possible, “What do you know of the invasion?”
The Elf was losing colour in her skin, “The invasion…” she coughed up more blood, “it is happening… now,” with that breath she died. The Ambassador closed her dimming eyes. The essence of life was slowly degenerating. Sylvanas placed her hands underneath the corpse, “She will live, Ambassador, she knows almost everything we need.”
Meanwhile, Garrosh huffed, “There won’t be an invasion.” He walked outside the throne room, through the area of dead Forsaken refugees, and through the final area where dead trolls were litter. Outside the keep, Garrosh looked in surprise as a barrel of Plague landed on the entrance to the drag. Hundreds of Forsaken shadows stood on the Plague area. Orc shadows collapsed, and most rose again. Garrosh realised, too late, that Sylvanas Windrunner was right, and that nobody was going to help him.
The Great EscapeEdit
The Undercity was littered in wreckage. The city of the sewers was almost destroyed by the rebellion. Overall, 97% of the Undercity was under the control of the evil warlock Jerl Soulreeper. The forsaken up risers were better equipped than the faithful. The only sub faction that wasn’t under Jerl’s control was the Royal Apothecary Society- the Science loyal to the Forsaken and their dark lady.
A loyal undead within the Apothecary chamber touched the tense skin of the fallen Orc warrior. He felt much shame for the events that had taken place. He administered a vial of dull green liquid and inserted it in the corpse. Several of the human slaves had been killed during the raid of the Apothecary. This undead was known as Faranell, and he was the leader of the Royal Apothecary Society. Faranell inserted a human corpse with the same residue. Faranell continued to insert the various corpses of humans, undead and orcs alike with the injection. The rebels outside knew he was in there, and Faranell had to act fast. He and the other apothecary survivors had to survive and escape the Undercity. Faranell looked towards Apothecary Helen, “Helen, I want you and Cutress to rebuild that half repaired Abomination, along with the other Abominations.”
“Yes sir,” Helen and Cutress said. The two women walked off and began to work with the husking body. Faranell turned towards Apothecary Jefferson, “I need you to finish injecting the Orc soldiers with the plague,” Faranell ordered. Jefferson took the equipment and began to work on the non-infected bodies. Master Apothecary Harvon called out, “What should I do, sir?”
“I need you to prep the newly formed undead with our captured weapons. I need your rouge skills to add a little deadly addition to the ‘equipment’,” Faranell answered. Harvon nodded, and pulled out a vial of poison. Harvon slowly moved towards the scattered weapons. Faranell then turned to the only other Apothecary, “I need you to check whether you can hear enemy forces trying to find us.” The frail, undead elf sprinted towards the barricaded door. Faranell turned around and sat down, feeling to weary to move at the moment. Soon, a dead body of an orc reanimated and twitched his hand. “Welcome back, orc,” Jefferson spoke softly. The reawaken orc sat up, “Where, where am I?”
“You are in the Apothecary quarters of the Undercity,” Jefferson spoke.
“But, but the last I saw I was lying next to a bridge chocking on my blood,” the confused orc spoke.
“I know, I witnessed your demise.” Jefferson spoke again.
“So, how did I end up here? Why am I here?” the orc asked.
“You are now undead, my friend, your welcome. Now we need you to serve the Horde once more by helping us escape the Undercity,” Jefferson explained.
“How, I am now not worthy of fighting if I fell in battle,” the orc stated.
“You must fight for us to ensure that this revolution is won, you can rebuild your honour, I promise,” Jefferson spoke.
“Ok, where is the nearest weapon that I can wield?” the orc asked assured.
“Try finding Harvon, he’s the member assigned to ‘fix’ weapons,” Jefferson answered as he turned towards more rising dead. The orc moved towards the rouge skulking around the room. “Hello, I was told you were the weapon master around here?”
Harvon stared blankly at the orc, then answered, “Yes, please, come through here.” The orc obeyed and walked through the open, gloomy room. Harvon, who was paying attention to the hidden blade in his sleeve, slowly made his way to the weapon table. Harvon turned around, “Now my dear orc, what weapon would you like to muster?” The wooden, broken table was littered in various weapons. The Orc placed his hands on the clear section. He looked towards the right; several shiny, used axes and blades lay there, waiting for somebody to slice through another with them. The orc immediately grabbed the Crippling Poison axe. Several other undead were rising now. Elves, orcs and humans were all rushing between Jefferson and Harvon. Rarely any orcs grabbed a bow, mainly elves tended to them. A high elf undead came over to Faranell, “Grand apothecary, what are we actually doing?”
Faranell placed his sharp, claw like fingers on his head and sighed, “We are going to serve your new leader, the Dark Lady, by breaking out of the Undercity. It is too dangerous to remain here much longer.”
“I see, apothecary,” the high elf whispered turning away. Faranell then decided to stand up and began to lay out a map devising the escape. A grey-green human approached Harvon, “What do you mean there isn’t anymore shields?”
“I’m sorry young madam, but we do not have many shields. If you want I can give you two weapons of your choice,” Harvon said with a deep sigh. He always hated complaints.
“Fine, I want the Long sword and the Dagger,” the human explained.
Harvon turned his back to her and picked up the Long sword and administered a Mind-Numbing poison to it. He carefully made sure he didn’t pour too much on the blade or the user would be at risk. Harvon’s mind-numbing poison causes brain damage should it penetrate the skin. Harvon brought the sword to the human; she snatched it straight out of his hand. “Now, my dear, what poison do you wish to enter our enemies?”
“I want something to stop them from running,” the human said indicating the glowing green liquid.
“Ah a fine choice, I like your style,” Harvon said joyfully adding the poison to the dagger. “You crippling poison is ready, my dear,” Harvon said handing the dagger to the undead. The undead turned her back and moved towards the other armed soldiers. “So, how long do we have to stay here?” a high elf asked.
“Yeah why do we have to wait here when we could be slicing our way through our victims?” an orc called out.
“We demand action!” a Blood elf called.
The crowd then started to speak in angry tones and called out to the Apothecaries. Faranell then administered the final piece to his plan and pulled the map out to the front of the room. “Friends, new arrivals, apothecaries, the time to escape is nigh. However we cannot underestimate our foes, they outnumber us one hundred to one. They are better equipped. They are better organised. They are better tacticians. So every step we make has to be planned out accordingly or we will undoubtedly be slaughtered by their oncoming forces.”
The group spoke in hushed tones to each over before Faranell spoke again. “When we lower the barricade and step out of the Apothecarium, we will have to exit through the sewers. The enemy controls and patrols the centre area heavily for intruders and reclaimers. So we will have to silence the small patrol outside of the stairs. Then one of us will take this rope, unlock the door, and relock it so nobody calls the guards. Afterwards, they will through the rope down to the floor where all of us will climb up.”
A high elf interrupted him, “I can see a flaw in your plan, why do we have to close the door rather than all of us walk through it?”
“Interesting question young lady, but the reason is, is because the door has been enchanted by Jerl to warn his demon minions if it is open for more than it’s required time,” Faranell explained.
“So when we climb the rope, I will call the bats I reanimated during the battle. Once we get picked up we will be forced to fly low to escape anti-air infernals. Once we exit the sewer, we will fly towards Tarren Mill, the only safe place in Hillsbrad, let alone Lordaeron the rebels have not invaded.” Faranell devised.
“But what about the Orb of Translocation?” a blood elf asked.
“The Orb was deactivated following Sylvanas’ escape. Now we cannot even come into contact with Quel’Thalas.” Faranell explained again.
Faranell wheezed and continued, “From Tarren Mill, we will gather supplies and fly towards Menethil Harbour and board one of their ships. We will then drive the boat to Eversong Woods to return to Silvermoon and find protection.” Faranell concluded.
The group of fifty seven undead stared in front of them in amazement. An undead high elf stood up, “I do have a question Apothecary.”
“And what might that be?” Faranell asked.
“You said that they outnumber and out equip us, so what if we are caught?” the high elf asked worried.
“If we are caught we will have to kill whoever finds us and ran for it I suppose,” Faranell answered. He looked towards everyone again, “Are you ready?”
“Yes we are!” they all shouted.
“Ok then, lower the barricade,” Faranell called. The apothecary brought down the barricade. The new forsaken moved silently through the door one by one. The large group moved towards the bridge out of the Apothecarium underground. The undead Leper Gnome sat at his seat, eating something that he just killed. He turned his head and could see the large group; he dropped the food and pointed at them, “Help! Intrud-” but an Orc grabbed the puny creature and snapped his neck. The lifeless corpse was chucked into the jade green liquid. The splash sprayed onto the edge of the bridge, and began to sizzle. “Don’t worry, it won’t burn through,” Faranell assured. The group continued to walk through. They discovered the staircase to the Sewers. Harvon, carrying the rope, stealthed on the spot; he started moving up the staircase as silent as possible. An Abomination stood guard by the door. Harvon grabbed a small vial of poison and literally poured it into the Abomination’s stomach. The creature collapsed and died. Harvon opened the door, which closed almost instantly afterwards. Harvon moved towards the large hole in the Sewers and exited his stealth. He stepped on the rope and chucked the strand down towards the group. Faranell grabbed the rope with his icy, dagger fingers and tugged. He climbed, and the others began climbing as well. The undead orc nearly pulled the rope down with him as he climbed. Harvon called, “Someone help me pull the rope!”
Two high elves grabbed the rope and pulled with all their might. The orc leapt from the rope and grabbed the sewer pipe; he lifted himself up from there. “Ok now there’s just one more to go!” Harvon told Faranell. Suddenly, an Undead Guard wielding a rifle called out from the sewers, “Guards, intruders!”
With that at least five guards rushed into the area and aimed their rifles at the human climbing the rope. They began firing at her. Four arrows flew towards the guards and sliced one of them in half. The guards aimed up towards the Bowmen. One arrow flew through the air like an eagle and entered the Rifle and sliced through its wooden handle, slicing the poorly crafted gun in half. An undead fired his rifle, the bullet striking an apothecary in the foot, “Ah!” he cried out in pain. Harvon grabbed him by the wrists and pulled him back. A high elf grabbed the rope and leapt down and she pulled herself towards the wall. As she reached the wall, she pressed her feet against it and kicked so hard that she almost span in the opposite direction. She pulled out her sword and slashed a Guard in heart, killing him.
A guard tightened his grip and tried to but the Elf with his gun. She parried the gun with her blade and kicked the guard in the stomach, pushing him back. She quickly took the advantage and signalled the others to fire on this guard. The guard whimpered and looked towards the pipe. Three arrows slammed into him; the impact was so powerful the arrows pulled him towards the wall. His head cracked upon impact. The guard next to him chucked the rifle at the elf, it whacked her in the stomach and she collapsed to the floor. He grabbed his axe and tried to strike her down; she parried his attack as well and pushed her sword, disarming the guard. The guard ducked the attack and tried to grab his weapon in the process. Two arrows then flew through the air at athletic speeds and sliced the Guard’s torso in half. The last guard whimpered and dropped his gun. The high elf moved up to him and softly whispered, “Boo”
The guard’s eyes then rolled up into his head as the sword swiftly moved through his chest. Faranell shouted, “Hurry girl, stop showing off and let’s go!”
The high elf grabbed the rope and climbed it in a matter of seconds. Faranell looked at the group, only minor injuries, and no casualties. Good, he thought. He turned around, “Come, the bats wait.”
He grabbed an object which appeared to be a Dog whistle. An orc spoke, “Why are you holding a Dog Whistle?”
Faranell smiled, “It’s not a Dog Whistle, it is a Bat caller. All bat masters use one, and let’s say I ‘borrowed’ it from our deceased friend.” Faranell let out a chuckle. He took in a deep breath and blew into the whistle. With that, fifty bats flew through the sewers and landed in front of the group. Faranell boarded the largest, strongest bat. An orc looked at the fury creature, it stared back at him, and unwillingly he forced himself onto the back of the creature. A high elf leapt straight from the ground onto the back of the beast. It only took a couple of minutes until everyone was onboard one of the creatures. Apothecary Helen called to the others, “Are we ready?”
Uproar of ‘yeses’ flew towards her. She nodded to Faranell and the entire group rose up from the ground. The bats turned right as the pipe’s figure changed. The bats flapped their wings and pushed themselves to the limit to catch speed. It was only twenty seconds before Faranell could see the darkness of Tirisfal Glades. The bats flew out into the dark, unforgiving woods of Tirisfal. The Scarlet Onslaught members at the towers attempted to shoot them down, but couldn’t manage to hit one of the bats. The bats diverted and flew straight over the brown, dusty mountains bordering Tirisfal Glades and Silverpine Forest. It flew through and crossed the border. Harvon looked down and could see loyal Forsaken performing hit and run acts against isolated rebels. I salute you good men, Harvon thought. The bats were no longer above dark green ground as they reached calm blue water as they flew over the lake. The bats dodged numerous trees as they entered the Alterac Mountains, land of the Syndicate. The bats rushed towards the dimming shield of Dalaran and sliced straight through the weakened shield. It flew out of the other end and straight over the Interment Camp. The bats dived and entered Hillsbrad Foothills, where Tarren Mill resided.
The bats twisted and landed just outside the village. The group exited there mounts. A forsaken waved his hand to the group, he was a bat handler and he led the bats towards the nearby pool of water for them to drink. Tarren Mill had been greatly changed; all civilians had been evacuated and transported to the newly conquered Arathi Basin. Everyone in Tarren Mill was either a soldier or an evacuee of the Royal Apothecary Society. They were stripping the area of all supplies and gathering personal belongings left behind. Faranell looked towards the Chapel, two guards were carrying a pile of belongings, and one was a dusty collection of books. Faranell asked the guard, “Excuse me sir, may I take them books?”
“Oh, ok,” the guard said taking the books out. Faranell blew the dust off the book, and it revealed something that Faranell did not want to know. The book was entitled Grand Sorcerer Measme, proud sorcerer of Lordaeron. Faranell took the book with him and sat down in the abandoned inn. He opened the first page, getting a thin paper cut on his finger, “Ah, damn it!” he said in disgust.
The book read,
‘‘Measme, Grand Sorcerer of Lordaeron’’
Terenas “Measme” Haverson was born four years prior to the Second war arrival through the Dark Portal. He grew up in Lordaeron and researched the Arcane Arts. He became an incredibly powerful mage and enlisted in the Lordaeron army, where he was rivalled by the magically superior High Elves. Measme practised new spells, one of which accidentally aged him to the age of sixty three. When the Third War began, Measme had earned enough respect to be given his own Quarters in the city. Soon, he came to the land now known as the ‘Western Plaguelands’ and took up residence in the town of Andorhal. In just three weeks of rest in Andorhal, plagued grain was sent to Andorhal by the newly formed undead scourge. Unlike most of the town, Measme discovered it had been plagued and warned the people who hadn’t eaten it to leave before the Plague of Undeath took over the civilians. Upon that he began to head back to Capital City. On the way, he discovered Andorhal had been converted to mindless undead and that several Ghouls were attacking Prince Arthas Menethil and Lady Jaina Proudmoore. He caught the Ghouls by surprise and killed them; he received Recognition from Arthas and he teleported back to his sanctum in Capital City. Soon, the Plague spread throughout Lordaeron and Measme heard news that the cultist Kel’Thuzad had been slain by Arthas, but also that the entire city of Stratholme had been killed. Arthas, along with his trusted bodyguards Falric and Marwyn headed to Northrend to slay the Demon Mal’Ganis. Measme had learned news from a Mage who escaped via portal back to Lordaeron that Arthas had slaughtered his entire squad and raised them as Undead. However before Measme could tell King Terenas Menethil, Arthas, Falric and Marwyn entered the room and Arthas slew King Terenas. Measme watched in horror as Arthas gave the order for the slaughter of the whole city, he set fire to King Terenas’ body and teleported back to his sanctum before Falric and Marwyn could catch him. Unfortunately for Measme, Falric and Marwyn knew where his Sanctum was and slaughtered all civilians and soldiers on their way to the Sorcerer’s sanctum. Falric and Marwyn massacred all the civilians taking refuge in his sanctum and fought Measme himself. This was an unfortunate loss for the bodies of the two Death Knights and Measme defeated both of them and burnt their bodies. When Arthas returned to Capital City, he discovered survivors, which disgusted him until he reached Measme’s sanctum and discovered his greatest guards slain and burnt. In a very long and expanded fight, Arthas finally slew Measme and therefore the final guardian of Capital City and in turn Lordaeron. He then raised Falric and Marwyn from their bodies as spirits, were they would later go on to serve in the future Halls of Reflection. While Arthas had a defiant hatred for Measme, he realised that he almost lost his life fighting him, and he could be a true power for the Lich King. He brought Measme’s body, as well as the Necromancer Kel’Thuzad’s body to the High Elf kingdom of Quel’Thalas where he laid siege and killed 80% of the High Elf species. At the Sunwell, he placed the body of Kel’Thuzad, while the Ghostly Falric chucked Measme’s body into the Sunwell. The power resurrected both of the Magic Users as powerful Liches of the Scourge. While Kel’Thuzad was welcomes, Measme immediately left the Isle of Quel’Danas and travelled to Kalimdor to begin the plague there. Measme was later replaced by another Lich to oversee the Scourge in Kalimdor. Currently, Measme has been freed by the Banshee Queen Sylvanas Windrunner from the Lich King’s grasp. He is the only identified Lich in the Forsaken.
The next part of the book appeared to be have written just days before.
Measme is currently residing with the Dark Lady in Silvermoon City where he trying to perform a ritual with the Dark Lady to bring an unidentified Sorceress back to life as a Unique Undead much like Sylvanas herself.
Faranell slammed the book shut, “Well, at least he’s in our side now.” Faranell chucked the book into a nearby fire. Its pages started to change colour. Faranell stepped outside the dusty, abandoned inn. He then moved towards the building directly next to it, the old Apothecary. The room was wrecked, scavenged by the Apothecary dedicated to creating the New Plague. There was but one small, dull vial which Faranell took an interest to. He picked it up, and noticed what he truly wanted off the Apothecary in the first place. It was an Elixir of Subtlety, a potent vial of disease which will slowly spread through the body. There is no sign of the disease and a single drop can kill; this is what the Apothecary needed for those not killed by the New Plague.
Although Faranell no longer needed Apothecary Lydon, he did need the poisons he had created. Faranell tipped over the table and discovered Umpi, the test subject Faranell had gave to Lydon. Umpi had been killed many times, he could tell by the stitching done after reanimation; particularly the scar Umpi had on her left eye. Faranell then made a scowl as he discovered Umpi was dead for good this time. A small note then landed next to the limp, jade green creature, Faranell picked it up and read. The note read, ‘’Dear Master Apothecary Faranell, it has been five years since you have asked me to create poison for you. As you probably know I am one step ahead with my so called depression. I have created hundreds of poisons and potions which I have stashed in the city of Silvermoon. If you need further assistance finding it you will find another note. I assure you that the note and the poison you may want is in Silvermoon.
Faranell’s cold heart almost cracked as he was angered by the cowardly Apothecary. Every Apothecary knows that if the poison is not explained nobody can use it. Faranell sighed. Now Lydon is now somewhere, torturing all that live near him, while Faranell is left on his ass waiting for an explanation. Faranell left the building, leaving Umpi’s various deaths behind. Faranell rushed out of the building, “Forsaken, get ready, we’re leaving!” The High Elves were nimble quick and arrived in mere seconds by the pond. The others followed soon afterwards. “Are we ready and we are not stopping until we reach Silvermoon!”
Several yeses responded and the group began remounting the bats. “Oh I don’t like these foul beasts,” an Orc complained.
“That’s too bad, we are not stopping until we reach Quel’Thalas,” Faranell countered. The bats exited their slow rising and darted through the air of Hillsbrad. The bats exited the evacuating town of Tarren Mill and over the countryside of Hillsbrad Foothills. The bats diverted numerous mountains. An orc shouted, “This is why, I… I don’t like ba-” the green skinned creature vomited over the side of the bat. The bat made a noise of irritation. A High Elf chuckled, “Baby.”
The bats soon flew over the snowy hills of Alterac. The Ogres bellow boomed, “Fire at da fury flying people!” Several clubs flew up through the air, but not near high enough to even touch the bats. The bats quickly lowered and escaped the Ogre threat. The bats had entered the war filled zone known only as Alterac Valley. A Dwarven Cannoneer called to his men, “Fire at the Horde! Die ye scoundrels!”
“Aye, commander, fire!” another dwarf spoke. Cannons flew fired at the Bats. Faranell’s bat twisted around, dodging a Cannon. Unfortunately, a cannon ball whacked one of the bat’s wings, causing it to go into a spiral. However, the falling bat was in luck as Drek’Thar and his Frostwolf armies were already invading Dun Baldar. “Lok’Tar Ogar sons of Frost Wolf, we finish this battle today!” The group watched as the orcs were cut down by the hail of bullets from the Dwarves. The Bat plummeted and crashed into a nearby mountain nearby the Stormpike Graveyard. The group then exited and entered the dreaded Western Plaguelands. The land was starting to get a little greener, but the Plague of Undeath still refused to leave its lands. Members of the Scarlet Onslaught and the Argent Crusade clashed at the liberated town of Andorhal. The bats saw this as a threat and rose further up into the air and flapped their wings at an increased rate. The bats escaped the source of battle, until they could see Scarlet Onslaught being slaughtered by Scourge reclaimers in Hearthglen. The bats then flew straight over the mountains flying into the Eastern Plaguelands. While the West was showing signs of new life, the Eastern remained a cursed place of Undeath and violence. The bats flew low to avoid being spotted, they turned left and right as they dodged mushroom-like trees. They turned upwards after exiting the Blackwood and flew straight over the High Elf lodge below. The bats flew into the border between Lordaeron and Quel’Thalas and entered the Ghostlands.
The bats flew low again as the armies of the Blood Elves sliced through the scattering undead. Without Dar’Khan Drathir and his Lieutenants, the undead were lead by the two Abominations Knucklerot and Luzran. While strong, the two Abominations were not good leaders and only remained in charge due to being the strongest undead in the land. Faranell looked down and could see two Blood Knights charging a group of seven Ghouls. One knight flung her sword and killed two Ghouls. The other Knight brought down a judgement upon another four Ghouls, which split the poor creatures in half. The second Knight struck again with her blade and decapitated the final Ghoul. Soon, a single Abomination came over to the Knights and was quickly annihilated by the women. The Bats flew over the village of Tranquillen, which had been heavily reinforced and filled with soldiers. The bats then flew over the Dead Scar, and moved so quickly that ripples appeared in the shallow river separating Eversong Woods and the Ghostlands. The Bats still followed the Dead scar and quickly flew up the centre land of Quel’Thalas. The group noticed a couple of changes in the area. Fairbreeze village had been overrun by the Wretched. While the Wretched appeared to be successful in taking over Blood Elf scout locations, the Blood elves themselves were putting more effort into destroying the Scourge threat in Eversong. The effort, however, was not going as quick as planned. A Blood Knight fired a beam of light in a Skeleton Mage’s direction. However the mage reacted and dodged the beam and fired a frost bolt at the Knight. The azure blue bolt engulfed the Knight and pushed against her with such force, she catapulted into a nearby tree. Two Ghouls charged and murdered her. Vrykul necromancer limped towards a few of the rangers with a couple of zombies in the lead. The zombies clashed with the Ranger’s bows. The Vrykul chucked a bolt of shadow towards the two Rangers. The bolt snapped the bow in half; the other ranger had dodged the bolt. The bats the finally flew towards the grand capital of Quel’Thalas. Silvermoon City, the bats lowered and twisted left and right to enter the city. But then the one thing that the group didn’t want happened. Mindless minions of the Scourge were clashing with the Blood Elves and Forsaken alike. The bats then quickly landed behind the barricade and the group departed as quick as a flash.
Harvon ran over to a high ranking Forsaken, “What is going on here?”
“The Scourge has breached the walls of Silvermoon; they are trying to reclaim Quel’Thalas as their own again!” the Forsaken said firing his rifle.
Harvon rushed over to Faranell, “Jefferson and Helen will lead the others in defence of the city, lets run quickly to the Dark Lady!”
At that moment a plague boulder crashed right next to Harvon and Faranell. Plague leaches then detached from the boulder and moved towards the two Apothecaries, “Run!” Faranell shouted.
The two ran straight through to the door to Murder Row. Several Ghouls were outnumbering the Silvermoon City Guardians. There javelin like spears sliced through a zombie’s stomach and pushed the being back into a Ghoul, knocking them both over. A Ghoul then whacked the spear out of the Guardian’s hand and they began to rip him apart. Eventually, the Guardian died on the spot, ripped to shreds by the never ending ghouls. Suddenly, four bullets flew through the air and cut through the remaining Undead. Two Forsaken Soldiers moved up towards the massacre point. The Male noticed the Apothecaries, “Go, the Dark Lady is waiting!”
An arm then broke through the floor and grabbed the Forsaken’s leg. The other then shot the arm back into the ground with her rifle. Harvon and Faranell rushed past them at a great speed. Suddenly, two hunters stood at the fountain and began to rapidly fire arrows in all direction, not missing a single time. Harvon jumped on top of a dead Ghoul and leapt off it, leaping straight into the Farstrider Enclave. The two Apothecaries rushed through the battling Blood Knights. Two Guardians protected the doorway to the former Battleground base of Silvermoon. The basement of the building where Mages used to chant had been converted and inaccessible. The moment Faranell and Harvon stepped through the door, Faranell could see an incredibly magical being. The Lich Terenas Haverson, or commonly known as Measme. Terenas floated next to Lor’themar Theron, the Regent Lord of Quel’Thalas. Lady Liadrin, lead Blood Knight of Silvermoon. Sylvanas Windrunner, Banshee Queen of the Forsaken and unusually, Jaina Proudmoore, co-leader of the Alliance in Kalimdor. The group was surrounding a corpse floating in mid air. The body was being channelled upon by nearby Mages to keep her in mid air. Harvon and Faranell moved up the opposite staircases. Terenas began speaking, “This women must be tended to delicately. If we are to ensure nothing goes wrong, we need to take every step as careful as a Necromancer creating a Frost Wrym.”
Terenas raised his bony, pale hands and a black energy exited his finger tips. The black energy moved slowly through the air towards the body. As it neared the motionless body, it began to ‘sizzle’. Then as the energy entered her body, a chaotic black explosion exited her. The explosion spread out and nearly knocked off the mage’s concentration. “Is that meant to happen without the use of a Death Knight? Lady Liadrin.
“Yes, yes young paladin. This is how it happens without a Banshee Ritual,” Terenas explained.
Then a shout was heard outside and the sound of a thud echoed the walls. Then it was repeated. Suddenly, hundreds of hands reached up through the ground. The hands became bodies and legs as Ghouls emerged from beneath. Tens of Skeletal Mages entered through the front as well as Vrykul Necromancers. Then two Abominations came in to finish the entrance. Lady Liadrin turned to Terenas, “Is that meant to happen?”
Half of Ogrimmar was burning. The surprise attack had made a decisive blow to the grand city. Legions of Forsaken Warriors patrolled the streets searching for survivors. Thousands of Undead Orcs wandered aimlessly across the streets. Two Warlocks walked across the Cleft of Shadow. These Warlocks often acted out the art of Necromancy. The first Warlock lifted her hand and fired a beam of Undeath. The beam separated into ten separate beams which entered the corpses of dead Trolls. The Troll’s skin slowly degenerated as they rose from their dead state. A Patrol of ten Forsaken moved across the street, the houses were burning a majestic orange. Suddenly, a murmur came from an untouched house. The Forsaken stared blankly at each over. They were former Deathstalkers. Rogues who had no need to eat, drink, sleep or even breathe. They silently lowered down to the ground and feigned death.
“Go check outside, is there a patrol?” a mother whispered to her husband. He peaked over to the window, only dead orcs and ‘seemingly dead’ Forsaken scattered the area. The husband spoke, “No, it is all clear.”
“Should we head to the Barricade in the Valley of Honour?” the wife asked.
The Forsaken listened in to the conversation. “Yes, we should head there.” The husband replied looking for any more patrols.
“Brok, open the door, quietly,” the wife said. The teenage Orc slowly opened the old, oak wood door. The door finally opened and the family of three crept out of their old home. The Orcs tried not to tread on the corpses, although they did not care about stepping on the Forsaken. The Orcs crept over and looked around for patrols. They sighed in relief and began to casually walk away. The feigning Forsaken then began to rise from their act. They crawled towards the family. One reached the Father Orc who was the furthest behind the other two. He then leapt up and grabbed the Father’s mouth, silencing him. He silently whispered, “Should’ve checked a little better.” The Forsaken slit the Father’s throat and made sure he remained silent. The Forsaken laid the corpse to rest. Another grabbed her long, dark bow and fired an arrow. The arrow struck the son in the back of the head, silencing him instantly. The Wife continued to walk towards the Valley of Honour. She was walking by a wall, which was being scaled by a Deathstalker. The Deathstalker then leapt down in front of the wife. She screamed, “Help!” The Forsaken struck her kidney with his fist. She staggered and tried to run back, she then saw the dead bodies of Brok and her Husband. She gasped as a blade sliced through her back.
The murdering Deathstalker spoke, “Well at least we know where the creatures hide.”
The other patrol members continued to walk on through the burning remains of the Drag.
Garrosh Hellscream walked thoughtless across the Valley of Honour’s battle room. “I do not understand it,” he spoke, his voice almost echoing in the room.
“You do not understand what?” another Orc spoke.
“I do not understand that, that…” Garrosh struggled to say.
“That Sylvanas Windrunner was right?” the Orc interrupted.
“I will not accept that!” Garrosh bellowed lifting the Orc up into the air. “That filthy, rotting Banshee will never be the better of me. Do you understand that?”
“No…” the Orc spoke as he was launched across the room.
“Well there is one thing that creature can tell us,” Garrosh said sitting himself down.
“And what is that?” another Orc spoke.
“How she knows where these rotting undead are going to go,” Garrosh huffed.
“Bring in the Prisoner,” Garrosh spoke. The Orcs hesitated, “Now!”
Sounds of struggle spread around the room. “What are you doing I demand you let me go!” a call cried.
The Guards ignored the struggling Undead. This Undead was loyal to his Dark Lady and not the Dark Demon that was Jerl Soulreeper.
“You; I have a task for you,” Garrosh unusually said calmly.
“What is it you want from me?” the Forsaken said. Garrosh raised his hand and the Guards dropped the bony creature. Garrosh spoke, “I have a simple task for you. I want a portal to your ‘Dark Lady’ and I want it now.”
“And why should I do that?” the Undead questioned. Garrosh came face to face with him, “Because if you don’t I swear I will break every bone in your corpse with my bare hands!”
The Forsaken grabbed a Rune of Teleportation from his robes and began to chant under his breath. As his hand began to glow like a crystal, the stone began to crumble. An almost holographic energy began to emerge around him. They united in a circle and enflamed around him. As the last of the Rune disappeared into arcane energy, the Forsaken directed the energy directly in front of him. The Energy flew like a projectile from his hand. The mini arcane pieces separated into a circular opening. In the opening was the image of Silvermoon City, the pride of the Blood Elves. The Enflaming arcane around the Forsaken slowly died down and eventually disappeared. Garrosh smirked. “Good job, corpse. Kill him.”
“Wait what. No, we had a-” he was interrupted by an axe being flung into his stomach. The Undead collapsed gasping on the floor. Garrosh laughed, “Well, that’s one undead down.”
“Only the entire army to go,” a Guard said.
Garrosh and the two Guards entered through the portal. The moment the portal closed behind them that Garrosh realise that they had been cheated. Hundreds of mindless Ghouls ran through the streets, slaughtering cowering civilians. Garrosh was unfamiliar with the High Elven city. “Stand firm men, we are here to find the Banshee Queen and it looks like we’re not going to be able to leave without her.” Suddenly, a scarlet red Ghoul leapt towards Garrosh, he swung his left axe and decapitated the creature. Garrosh readied his axes and charged down the steps, annihilating any undead that stood in his way. At the entrance to Farstrider Square, he could see Forsaken loyalists firing upon the undead. They noticed Garrosh and his guards, “Garrosh Hellscream, protect the Dark Lady at all costs!”
They fired their rifles at the guards. Garrosh leapt behind the Fountain border. He grabbed a throwing axe and chucked it through the air. The axe snapped the jaw straight off of a Loyalist. The undead collapsed grabbing his dislodged jaw. The guards charged the undead. The Undead were no match the berserk giants that stood before them. As the final Undead was about to be killed, Garrosh rose and charged the undead. He sliced the Undead’s chest. “Everything I did was for the protection of the Dark Lady…” he died. The Scourge presence had been redirected into the safety room of the Dark Lady and her comrades. Garrosh slowly walked down the steps and could see Blood Elven blacksmiths slicing through Undead Hordes. The three Orcs continued to walk down the brightly lit steps of Silvermoon. Garrosh turned to his right; Blood Elven Farstriders redirected their focus to the Orcs. Garrosh ducked as several arrows flew his way. His Guards charged with their axes and waged war on the Elven Bowmen. A Farstrider barely managed to parry the Orc’s attack. However, the Orc was too strong for the flimsy elf and his axe almost slammed straight through the creature. The Orc then chucked his axe at a nearby Elf, which decapitated the Farstrider instantly. The last two Elves then both dodged a guard’s swing and both proceeded to stab him in the heart. The Orc staggered and lowered to the ground, trying to cover his wound.
The Other Guard charged and slashed the nearest Elf to him, instantly killing him. Before the other could react an axe flew through his head. Garrosh gasped and rushed over to the dying guard. “Lok’Tar my friend, you have served the Horde well,” Garrosh sadly stated as the guard went limp. The other guard proceeded to mourn. Garrosh growled, “That Banshee will pay. For all she has done!”
Garrosh looked at the curtain door to Sylvanas’ domain. The other guard stood up but Garrosh denied him, “I am sorry, my friend. I want to face her… alone.”
The other guard understood and slowly picked up his deceased comrade. Garrosh huffed as he slowly walked towards the curtain. Several beams of fiery light flashed from the room, as Garrosh came towards the entrance, the transparent, azure blue curtain was set alight by a misdirected fireball. Garrosh raised his axes and entered the room. From the hallway he could see hundreds of undead being defeated by hundreds of flashing lights of holy and arcane magic alike. Garrosh sprinted into the action and began to slaughter the undead in his way. He drove an axe straight through an Abomination’s back; it shredded through it. Three Ghouls collapsed with a single blow. Garrosh shredded his way through a group of Vrykul necromancers. Several Skeletons were cut in half as Garrosh’s axes became scarlet red. Now only twenty undead remained, just scattering Ghouls. Nonetheless, the Blood Elves and Garrosh continued to burn smite and chop through the scourge in the building. As the final Ghoul collapsed to the floor, Garrosh let out a battle cry. The Blood elves then noticed him. Garrosh then called out, “Sylvanas Windrunner, after all these years of destruction and misery in the Horde caused by your faction of Apothecaries, Warlocks and Rogues, the time has come to end it all. Today is the day that you shall die!”
Sylvanas appeared just at the balcony, “Orc filth, why do you continue to hunt us down?”
“You have caused thousands of innocent Horde soldiers and civilians to die an underserved and dishonourable death. You and all your kind will die. And I will kill all who stand in my way!” Garrosh barked.
“The Forsaken are not the true evil in the Horde. Do you not realise that it is never the true Forsaken who disappoint the Horde?” Sylvanas questioned. Garrosh lost his temper.
“Enough Questions, your end has come!” Garrosh raised his axes.
Terenas the Lich opened a portal to the barricade at the front gates. “Dark Lady, quickly, we will hold off this monstrosity!” Terenas explained. Lady Liadrin called out, “Defend the Dark Lady with your lives!”
Sylvanas turned towards Harvon and Faranell, “You two, come with me!”
“Yes ma’am!” they replied rushing into the portal. Terenas quickly closed the portal and called out to Garrosh, “Sorry, young Orc. But to get to the Dark Lady, you will have to come through us!”
Suddenly, a violent wave of air pushed through the room, causing the walls to crack slightly. A Portal from Orgrimmar opened. Several of the surviving Orc soldiers rushed through the portal. Garrosh called a rallying cry, “Lok’Tar Ogar sons of the Horde, attack!”
The Orc berserkers charged towards the Paladins.
Meanwhile, Sylvanas, Harvon and Faranell exited the portal. They were back at the front barricade. Faranell cleared the dust off of his robes, “How much more do we have to suffer?”
“Apparently a lot,” Harvon stated as five portals from Orgrimmar surrounding the three Forsaken. Sylvanas readied her blood coated blade, “Stand firm, loyalists. We will prevail!”
The portal shifted as the hulking body of an Orgrimmar citizen came rushing through, “Please, you must help us!” More Orgrimmar citizens exited through the portals. As the dozens of sickly Orcs entered the city, a Forsaken Mage appeared. With the mage came the tortured person of the Mage who had lead Garrosh to Silvermoon. His body was brutally damaged. He had an axe blow to the stomach, as well as many blade marks across his back, ripping straight through his robe. He had several blows from a blunt weapon in the chest and legs. He knelt down on the ground and began to uncontrollably cough. Sylvanas looked into the eyes of the Civilians begging at her knees. All fifty five of them kneeling down and pleading. Sylvanas fed on their desperate attitude. Faranell whispered to his Dark Lady, “You’re not actually going to help these abominations? They are the ones that will likely betray us for their master.”
Sylvanas looked at the crowd and back at Faranell, “No, I have plans for these creatures.” Sylvanas smirked and turned back to the Orcs, “Of course I would love to lend aid to my allies.”
Uproar of cheers came from the orcs. Faranell whispered into Sylvanas’ long, dark ear, “How do you think we’ll dispose of them?”
Sylvanas stared at the cheering crowd and noticed a most notable figure in the group. Kel’Dra, an incredibly powerful shaman, presumed to have survived a Shamanistic battle with Thrall, warchief of the Horde. Sylvanas thought to herself, Perhaps I can use this Orc. Soon, the portals startled to ripple and twirl as they evaporated into a small, sparkling arcane cloud. The clouds slowly disappeared into the air. Sylvanas turned around, looking for a notable individual. She eventually came to the right subject. Helena Darksorrow, grand Shadowmaster Priest of the Forsaken. Sylvanas casually moved towards her, Faranell quickly asked, “Where should I take them?”
“Take them to the inn just behind us. But leave Kel’Dra behind, I have plans for him…” Sylvanas said walking further away from the group. Faranell looked confused; however he obeyed his Dark Lady and signalled the refugees to follow him. With that the area quickly emptied. With sounds of fighting from outside, Sylvanas could only presume the Scourge was being beaten back. Helena Darksorrow was a very dark and mysterious women, she wore the dark robes of the chaotic Kel’Thuzad before he became a Lich. She was a master shadow priest and could cause the light of a room to disappear in milliseconds. She was surrounded by a thin coat of dark, shadowy, evil essence. An astonished look on her face appeared as Sylvanas approached her. She knelt down before the Banshee Queen, “I am yours to command, my Queen,” she loyally spoke.
Sylvanas smiled again, “Helena, I need your assistance.”
“Anything, my liege,” Helena spoke in excitement, “What do you wish?”
“Do you see that Shaman over there?” Sylvanas said pointing towards Kel’Dra.
“Yes,” Helena spoke.
“I want you to dominate his mind, forcing him to be at your command,” Sylvanas explained.
“Of course, but this will be difficult. His will is strong,” Helena said. Sylvanas indicated Helena to follow her. They approached Kel’Dra. Like Drek’Thar, Kel’Dra covered his eyes in a blindfold, and trusted the elements to guide him. Sylvanas spoke to the ancient shaman, “Stay here my friend. We will be moving shortly.” Sylvanas whispered to Helena, “Start now.”
Helena began. An essence of shadow appeared above her hands. She passed her left hand to her right and the essences combined. She then engorged the bolt and sent it flying towards the shaman. Shadowy rippled appeared around the shaman, creating a shadowic bound around him. The shaman could not use his abilities while surrounded by the essence. The beam disappeared as the final section turned into ripples. Helena called upon more essence and directed it towards Kel’Dra’s head. At this moment he realised something was wrong, “If you want to take me down, I’m going to give you hell!”
Kel’Dra attempted to pull the earth from under his feet, however the shadow clouded his mind and he couldn’t think of the spell. Helena kept a tight hold on the channelling spell, “I’m about a quarter of the way through his will!”
Suddenly, a totem appeared from the ground and it began to filter the spell disturbing shadow. Sylvanas fired a black, oak arrow at the wooden object, shattering it. The captured shadow released and rebuilt the barrier. The glow around Helena’s hand began to pulse. Kel’Dra began to falter, “Will, lowering, must… fight on.”
Several more totems, this time fiery, appeared from the ground. They began to charge a fiery wrath. Sylvanas rapidly fired arrows in the direction of the totems. Hitting still objects is too easy, she thought to herself. The totems splintered into thousands of pieces. Kel’Dra began to struggle to stand; he collapsed, keeping himself up with his hands. The pulsing glow around Helena’s hand began to grow and formed a spherical form completely enshrouding her hand. Helena could feel his will breaking. She was feeling crippling resistance from the Orc. Kel’Dra spluttered, “Element of water, please… uh”
Several water totems appeared from the ground, suddenly, a small wave exploded from the mouth of the totem, pushing Sylvanas backwards five feet. She quickly fired a piercing shot into the totem, disintegrating it. Helena’s shadow orb began to fire ripples of it’s own around its perimeter. Her arm was in serious pain from the will of the orc. Kel’Dra’s blood gushed around his body at ever increasing speeds. He was struggling to collect his thoughts. The Elements of Air, Water and Fire had failed to defend him. Suddenly, as his will began to break, an explosion of powerful earthen power erupted throughout the city. Sylvanas was knocked over, the walls began to crack and Helena almost lost concentration. Violent shock waves penetrated the constructs and walls. They began to crumble. The shadow layer surrounding Helena began to spin around hastily. Finally, Kel’Dra collapsed to the ground, a small cloud of dust enveloping. The shadow ripples slowly returned to rebuild the Shadowform. The mind control beam evaporated into shadowy vapour. Helena collapsed to the ground, holding onto her head. Sylvanas, now flung over a nearby column, slowly rose herself up. She witnessed a presumed unconscious Kel’Dra and an injured Helena clutching her head. Sylvanas crawled swiftly towards Helena. Sylvanas knelt down next to her, “Was it… complete?”
Helena’s eyes had turned from a cats-eye’s yellow to a glowing scarlet blood red. She paused before opening her mouth, “The power…”
Helena took in a breath, “Is beyond my imagining.”
Success, Sylvanas thought to herself. Helena lay down on the dusty, cracked, ruined floor. Sylvanas slyly walked towards Kel’Dra. She knelt down next to the grand shaman. “If the spell was a success, then our friends will be dealt with swift and mercilessly,” she paused, “But if not, we have made a powerful enemy.”
Helena gathered the strength to stand up and she limped towards Kel’Dra. Like Sylvanas, she knelt down next to the Orc. Suddenly, a breath was heard by the two Forsaken. Kel’Dra lifted his arm in the air and slammed it into the ground near him. As he slowly rose, Helena and Sylvanas began to stand up. Finally, Kel’Dra stood up, his back towards the two undead. He turned around and the bandage was torn. It almost exposed his eyes. Even though Sylvanas and Helena could not see them, they both knew his eyes had become what they had expected. Darkened. Kel’Dra stared blankly, breathing heavily but silently. Kel’Dra then raised his head and stared directly at Helena. He spoke, almost a whisper, “How may I serve you, master?” At that moment Helena and Sylvanas had a smirk on their face.
The orc crowd confusingly called out to Harvon and Faranell. Questions of what’s happening and what is going to happen literally implanted on the minds of the two Undead. Harvon whispered to Faranell, “Grand Apothecary, these mindless drones are not worth the pity. Why can we not just kill them now?”
Faranell turned to Harvon, “Because the Dark Lady has her own plans, why do you think they were vibrations going on outside?”
“You make a good point, my friend,” Harvon said slowly moving towards the balcony, “But, I am starting to believe these aberrations aren’t worth the services they offer.”
The vibrant purple curtain dispersed as Sylvanas, Helena and Kel’Dra moved through. Harvon immediately turned around back to the four. The five remained silent as Sylvanas, Helena and Kel’Dra moved towards the brink of the balcony; at an instant, Kel’Dra rose himself into levitation with the element of the air. Sylvanas nodded to Helena. Helena then silently whispered into the ancient Orc’s ears. The crowd of Orcs looked in delight at their saviour. The smiles on their faces suddenly changed as the grey air turned into a rippling dark shadow. Sylvanas whispered to Harvon and Faranell, “Hold onto something; I don’t want you to get hurt.”
Suddenly, the ground began to shake in the room. The orcs began murmuring to each over, questioning. Sylvanas, Helena, Harvon and Faranell were then lifted into the air by Kel’Dra. They levitated ten feet off the ground. Sylvanas stared down with a smile that spelled deception. Most of the orcs noticed this and called out to run. “We’ve been deceived, let’s go!”
The shaking of the earth stopped as totems surrounding the group appeared from the ground. In between the totems the ground shook and the group couldn’t move. The shaking began getting more violent. The orcs stared in horror as a swirling tidal wave of water came booming in from the balcony. The water fell down the balcony, rushing towards the pinned orcs. The wave crashed against the orcs, tearing them apart. The oncoming waves were about half a foot underneath Sylvanas and the other’s feet. As the water died down, the surviving orcs began violently coughing up gushes of water. Twenty six orcs lay dead.
They looked up at their murderer. An orc cried, “Why? Why?”
He gripped the dead arm of his wife. Kel’Dra opened his mouth and spoke in almost a whisper, “Because you are not worthy of our new master’s judgement.”
Two Forsaken Necromancers entered the room behind Sylvanas and the group. Kel’Dra spoke again, “So, as you cannot serve the queen in life…”
A rumbling shook the ground underneath the survivors. “You will serve her, in death.”
As he finished an eruption of water spew through the room rapidly, drowning the unfortunate survivors. The Necromancers were lifted by Helena’s Darkness of the Shadow spell. Slowly, Sylvanas, Harvon, Faranell and Helena slowly lowered to the ground as the element of air worn off. Darkness formed around the Necromancer’s hands. A dark purple beam launched out of their hands and towards the ground. The beam separated into multitudes and penetrated the soft skin of the orcs. Their skin began to lose colour. They eventually turned into a dull grey. At that moment, their skin began to deteriorate.
Meanwhile, back in Farstriders Square, Garrosh Hellscream sliced straight through a Blood Knight’s shield. The Knight writhed in pain as the bludgeoned shield plummeted to the floor. A sorceress fired a molten ball of magma towards an Orc soldier. The soldier dodged it. Garrosh charged up the stairs as the Sorceress narrowly dodged the mortal strike. She launched a frostbolt at the mighty Orc. Suddenly, Jaina Proudmoore bellowed, “Stop! Stop! It’s bad enough Varian has declared war on the Horde, now the Horde is tearing itself apart.”
Garrosh prepared to strike her down as Jaina caused a violent hail of frost to erupt all around her. The entire room bar Jaina was covered in ice from foot to chest. Jaina blocked the Sorcerer’s chances to cast their spells with azure blue mana generators. Jaina silently spoke, “This is not how I am going to see Thrall’s horde; the redeemed Horde, to disperse.”
“Be silent, little girl. We all know this is the Forsaken’s doing. That witch and all who support her will fall, even if I have to take Quel’Thalas with me,” Garrosh spoke.
Terenas began to silently chant to himself. Jaina spoke, “Without Thrall and his Horde, his plan, you would have never come to this world.”
Garrosh spat, “It is not Thrall’s horde. It was my father’s horde before him. Thrall is too weak to be the supreme ruler of his faction.” The ice concealing Garrosh slowly began to rise, shard by shard. Terenas looked at Jaina, who made a distinct nod at him. Terenas reached inside his robe and grabbed a rune out of it. His skeletal fingers etched slowly across it. Garrosh looked at Jaina, “I am the solution to the Horde. I am going to do what Thrall never had the guts to do.”
Garrosh’s entire chest was covered in ice, “Banish the Forsaken and the Blood Elves from the Horde. And if that means their extinction, so be it.”
Terenas fired the arcane beam from the crumbled rune behind the group. The energy transformed into a Portal from an unknown location. Emerging from it was the shaman Thrall, warchief of the Horde. Terenas made a chaotic laugh. Thrall looked up at the battle scene, “Jaina, what is it? What’s wrong?”
Jaina pointed to Garrosh, “See for your self, Thrall.”
Thrall walked slowly towards Garrosh and noticed a distinct pool of blood, one that could only come from a Forsaken. Thrall looked at it and looked straight back to Garrosh, “Where is she?”
Garrosh tried to spit but he couldn’t bring the energy, “Where is who?”
Thrall moved straight up to Garrosh, whose neck was halfway covered by the ice. Thrall growled at him, “Sylvanas Windrunner.”
“She,” Garrosh coughed violently, “escaped along with her little apothecaries. The Lich lead their escape.”
Thrall faced towards Terenas. Garrosh’s assistants came into the room, Troll Mages. The first shattered Garrosh’s ice prism. The second opened a portal to the entrance of Silvermoon. The two mages channelled it. Garrosh, “But can you not see the true purpose of my operation?”
Thrall looked at Garrosh. Garrosh continued, “The Forsaken and their Blood Elf allies only seek to cause harm to our faction. I am going to finish what the Scourge started.”
Garrosh faced the portal, “Sylvanas Windrunner’s death draws near.”
Jaina fired a frostbolt but Garrosh entered the portal too quickly. The two Troll mages quickly froze Jaina and freed the orc soldiers, who all entered the portal. The mages entered and closed the portal behind them. Terenas shattered Jaina’s bound. She activated a spell and the ice prisms around the Blood Elves shattered. The shards all moved back towards Terenas’ hand. They levitated above it, swirling around. Jaina moved up to Thrall, “You’re not joining him. Are you?”
“No. Now I realise how contempt with power he is. I hate to admit it but, Sylvanas is now a more trustworthy member of the Horde than Garrosh cold ever amount to,” Thrall answered.
Jaina smiled for the first time since Varian showed respect for Varok Saurfang atop the Spire. Her golden hair was pushed aside from her face as she spoke to Thrall, “So, what do we do now?”
Terenas moved closer behind Jaina and glared at Thrall. Thrall, “I think we should save Sylvanas before Garrosh reaches her.”
Jaina nodded as she turned to Terenas. The Lich stood chest, shoulders and head above Jaina and lowered his long, skeleton arms towards her. The shards of ice were forming together as it created a frosted rune. Terenas nodded as Jaina gripped the rough, sharp rune with her soft, nimble fingers. Jaina could immediately feel the chill that it produced. She smashed the rune with a powerful arcane spell, the rune shattered into a circular form. The individual shards of ice acted as the perimeter of the portal. The Blood elf sorcerers and sorceress’ were first to step through the unique portal. Jaina paced towards the portal and was enveloped by the arcane energy. Terenas ‘floated’ into the portal, and was quickly followed by Thrall. The time of redemption was now.