When I get around to animating this. I’ve made some changes to the script - and added in anything that would’ve given me goosebumps the first time I saw it. I’d love some critique if you’ve got the time!
(The scene opens with a sweeping view of the wrathgate. Alliance and Horde forces are entrenched neck and neck, their fires lighting up the frozen wastes. Ahead, the Wrathgate, the main gates of Icecrown Citadel, loom menacingly, seeming out of place in the already harsh landscape.)
(The forces of the alliance are gathered on the road, which is paved with broken stones and skulls. In the distance, a horn sounds - Highlord Bolvar has arrived to lead the charge)
(He rides atop a charger emblazoned with the crest of Lordaeron - and the soldiers cheer. Many of them wear the distinctive lordaeron blue instead of the lighter, stormwind blue - this is a gathering of families. Of retribution. Cheers rise among the ranks.)
Misc.: Highlord Bolvar!
Misc.: For Lordaeron!
Misc.: For the Alliance!
(He rides to the forefront of the gathered forces, a great gate barring the scourge from advancing upon them.)
Bolvar: SOLDIERS OF THE ALLIANCE!I must warn you, we stand before the very gates of damnation. What we will face will be beyond any test you have endured thus far - but we. will. Triumph. We fight not only for ourselves, but for the safety of our families. For our children to grow free from fear. We fight for justice for the fallen! (At this point the army begins to cheer at the end of every statement.)We are the alliance of all those who have suffered under the reign of a fallen king, and today, we unseat him! For the Alliance!
(Bolvar turns, signalling for the gates to open, the army of hardened alliance soldiers steeling into formation.)
Bolvar: (Quietly) For you, Taelia.
(A sea of blue and gold crashes onto the desolate highway, a constant marching chant murmured between the troops as they make their way up the street. The soldiers of the Horde watch quietly, and Dranosh Saurfang looks on grimly. A grunt stands next to him, confused.)
Junthog: Overlord, should we not help them?
Saurfang: (shaking his head) This is a battle they must fight. They are fighting for their home. (He pounds his chest twice.) Just as we always have. (He pauses for a moment, looking up at the riven sky.) We will provide help when they need it. Let them have their moment of glory.
Junthog: Sir, with all respect, they’re being overrun.
(The ground is stirring beneath the soldiers’ feet, and hands reach up and claw their way from the earth. Bolvar shouts, and the 7th legion bundles up into a tight circular formation.)
Bolvar: Back, you mindless wretches!
(Bolvar leaps from his charger and cleaves an abomination in twain. Corpses fall beneath their blades, but a much larger force begins to rise ahead of them. Vrykul, wielding enchanted blades and armor, begins to advance. A far off call of “Fight on, brothers and sisters!” is heard. Dranosh smiles.)
Saurfang: I said a moment, young one.
(He turns to his troops, already assembled and ready. Their worgs’ fur is snow-flecked and all assembled seem anxious to join the fight.)
Saurfang: Rise up, sons and daughters of the Horde! Blood and glory await us!
(Back at the alliance front, things aren’t going well. The giants sweep away dwarves and gnomes with their massive maces, and it’s taking everything they’ve got to hold strong. Bolvar’s eyes widen as a horn sounds to the North.)
(Saurfang’s voice roars over the northern winds, drowning out the sounds of battle completely.)
Saurfang: Lok’tar ogar! For the Horde!
(He’s followed by hundreds of snarling wolf-riders, their blades at the ready and eyes gleaming. A chant of “For the Horde!” is roared in return as the worgs leap upon the Vrykul. With this added force, the alliance is able to finish them off.)
(Bolvar is fending off two vrykul when a throwing axe buries itself in one’s chest, and the other’s head flies off with a sweep of silver and red, Saurfang standing atop it. He helps Bolvar to his feet.)
Bolvar: I was wondering when you’d show up,
Saurfang: I couldn’t let the Alliance have all the fun today, could I? (He lets out a roar and bisects a charging Vrykul.) Come, warrior. Let us bring honor to your ancestors!
(Bolvar nods, grinning, and the two of them cut a swath through the undead. Atop a cliff to the right, forsaken archers are providing support. We’re focused on one, who’s intently making sure Saurfang and Bolvar aren’t facing too many enemies at once.)
Terrin:(Under his breath)Make them pay for what was done to us, highlord.
(He hears a sharp cry, and the sound of a blade being drawn from flesh. The sound of other arrows firing has slowly been diminishing. He turns -)
Terrin: To arms, Forsaken! We’re being -
(His voice catches at the sight of his fellow archers lying slain before him, Putress clutching one’s throat as he withdraws a knife. He’s surrounded by his followers, and abominations are pushing the plague launchers up the hill.)
Terrin: What are you -
(Putress tosses a small vial onto the ground, unleashing a small dose of the plague. Terrin breaks into a wracking cough, clutching at Putress’s tattered robes.)
Terrin: (weakly) But…why?
(Putress looks down at him, gray eyes visible through the absinthe-green glass of his gas mask. He leans down to the archer as his skin starts to wither, like dry leaves.)
Putress: Payment, brother. For what was done to us…(he looks out at the battlefield, sneering.)…by all.
(Back at the front, Bolvar and Dranosh stand side by side. Dranosh gives Bolvar a grim look.)
Dranosh: Are you ready, brother?
(Bolvar takes a deep breath and nods, striding forth.)
Bolvar:Arthas! The blood of your father, of your people, demands justice. Come forth, coward, and answer for your crimes!
(The call echoes across the wastes, and for a moment all that is heard is the wind. Then, a horrific grinding is heard. It begins as a mechanical screech, that almost transforms into a human scream, before the jaws of Angrathar fall. Darkness is all that is seen.)
(Panning over the faces of Horde and Alliance soldiers - everyone’s tense. A dwarf visibly sweats, and an orc tenses their jaw and grip. Bolvar narrows his eyes. A single footstep is heard, and both armies flinch.)
(Step by step, Arthas makes his way out into the court. He is unarmored from the waist up - instead he wears a twisted version of his father’s royal raiment. He wears the helm of domination, and Frostmourne is sheathed. Saurfang stirs restlessly.)
Arthas: You speak…of justice? (The words are layered with spite and mockery, and seem to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. An unearthly echo seems to ripple to the back of the armies’ ranks. Arthas takes a step down the great stair.)
Arthas:Of…cowardice?
(He begins walking down, and the snow around him freezes and makes way for him. When he finally stands at the floor of the court, he unsheaths frostmourne and drives it’s tip into the ground, the noise somewhere between rung metal and a whisper.)
Arthas: I will show you true justice - the judgement of death, and from it, you will know the true meaning…of fear.
(Dranosh begins laughing, breaking the tension built by Arthas)
Saurfang: Bold words for an outcast prince! Let us see if you can follow them up!(He looks to Bolvar)You do not fight alone, brother. (He raises his axe)For honor!
Bolvar: (nodding, steeling his gaze on Arthas.) For Justice! (he raises his blade, and the two rush at the lich king.)
(For the first stage of the battle, Arthas indulges them. He lightly parries both of their blows, making a show of it. Bolvar and Saurfang slowly grow more coordinated, until finally Saurfang lands a glancing blow on Arthas’s shoulder. The great ebon cloak falls, and Arthas looks aside for a moment. Saurfang roars and rushes forward.)
Saurfang: Come then - let it be finished!
(He takes a mighty swing at Arthas - and time seems to slow down. Saurfang’s eyes follow as Arthas, moving normally in this slowed moment, jerks frostmourne into his axe, shattering it. With a single arm, he grips Saurfang by his gorget, and slams him behind Arthas onto his back. Time returns to normal, and as Saurfang rises with a roar, Arthas spins his sword and drives it behind him, through Dranosh. The entire time, his eyes are focused on Bolvar, not even paying the orc mind. Dranosh grunts, struggles a moment, then falls limp. Arthas rips his sword out, and once again holds it point down.)
Bolvar: (voice shaking) You will pay…for all the lives you’ve…(breaks) stolen, you TRAITOR! (He yells, and begins to run at Arthas. He pops Avenging wrath, and arthas allows a small grin.)
Arthas: Boldly said, but there is nothing you can do. I…(He death coils Bolvar, then Asphyxiates him, pulling him into the air.) am death itself! (He brings the highlord closer, almost face to face. The next phrase is a whispered taunt.) I am inevitable.
(Bolvar closes his eyes, and in an infusion of light, he breaks free from Arthas’s grasp. They’re about to trade blows when a strange whistling is heard above the wind - followed by an explosion, and screams. For once, Arthas’s concentration is broken, and he stares up to the cliffs.)
Arthas: What trickery…
(More plague barrels burst upon the ground, and he narrows his eyes at the insignia upon a broken one. A pale mask, shattered by an arrow. He scoffs angrily.)
Arthas: (spitting the word) Sylvanas…
(A barrel nearly lands on top of him, but he tries to bat it away with frostmourne. Instead, it splits atop of him, and he recoils, retching.He shoots a glare to Bolvar.)
Arthas: This…isn’t over… (he gives a sharp whistle, and a creature of bones, hooves, and wings - invincible, rides to his side, and carries him back through the wrathgate. Bolvar wastes no time trying to help his forces organize.)
(We shoot back to Putress and his group - his monologue is more to himself than to the armies below. His masked followers quietly load and fire barrel after barrel of plague into the roads below.)
Putress: (muffled) Did you think we had forgotten? Did you think we had forgiven? (He tears off his mask, revealing a scarred and stitched face, sunken with pocked. He yells the next line out into the wind.) BEHOLD NOW THE TERRIBLE VENGEANCE OF THE FORSAKEN! DEATH TO THE SCOURGE, AND DEATH TO THE LIVING!
(His troops give a cheer as the sky is filled with streaks of sickly green smoke.)
(On the ground, everything is chaos.Exposure to the plague shrivels people into husks that fall and crumble. Bolvar is trying to help an ailing soldier while covering his mouth.)
Bolvar: Alliance, Horde - Fall back! Save yourselves! (The soldier in his arms falls limp, and everything seems to grow quiet around him.)
Bolvar: (to the soldier) Come on, don’t quit on me yet. We’ll get you home. We’ll make this right. We’ll-
(The arm he’s holding onto falls into pieces of armor, grey dust flooding out in a gasp. Bolvar stares at it, hopelessness etched in his eyes - and he looks around him. Soldiers of both factions are coughing and screaming around him as the gas grows thicker. He looks down at his hand and notices the skin beginning to crack and blacken. He falls to his knees, staring up at the sun.)
Bolvar: (to himself) We’re finished…there’s no escape…(he shoots a forlorn look to the forsaken cliff)for any of us now.
(Bolvar lowers his head, but something obscures the sun’s light. A pass through storm clouds and snow reveals the red dragons, their eyes narrowed in determination. Alexstrasza leads them, and her voice ripples among them.)
Alexstrasza: Death itself has brought these brave mortals low…let us show it that hope…BURNS ETERNAL!
(The dragons spew fire upon the gaseous landscape, burning away the scourge chasing the survivors, and igniting the plague. Soon all that remains is embers and smoke.)
(we cut back to Putress, looking disappointed upon the cliff. He straps his gas mask back on, and turns.)
Putress: Now…all can see…this is the hour of the Forsaken.
(He and his troop stalk off into the coming night. We pan over the scorched courtyard, over bones and melted, scorched weapons and armor - to a blackened hand. Embers still writhe within it - but it twitches - before being dragged away.)