Chapter Twelve: Misunderstandings and Bonds
While Ironforge was an amazing city, the one thing Liet disliked about the city under the mountain was that he couldn’t see the sky. The great gates of the city were one of the few places where you could see the sky. As such Liet and many of the other humans who had found themselves at the Dwarven city would find their way to the gates at least once a day if they could. The dwarves were excellent hosts and set fire pits for their weary guests. Today, Liet found himself warming his hands with such a fire with the cold mountain sky above him. And among the four people standing next to him was a being that he had never encountered before.
This soul had purple-blue skin, star white eyes, and was almost a head taller than Liet. This last was impressive since Liet was considered quite tall for a human at six foot seven. This person was a Night Elf. They had come to Ironforge not as refugees but seeking to join the Alliance. In exchange for their membership, they had offered to help heal not only the refugees from Lordaeron but the lands to the south that had been ravaged by war with the Horde. Many of their people practiced a magic called druidism that allowed them to connect with nature. Liet didn’t understand how it worked but it reminded him of stories he had heard of the Gilneas Harvest Witches who would bless the land.
Regardless, this person was a hunter rather than a druid or healer. Rishzaran he said his name was and was part of the entourage that had first come to the city. After giving a demonstration of his ability to heal the land the Archdruid Malfurion Stormrage and the High Elf Krasus choose to leave and return to their homelands. Mages crafted portals that could be used for individual quick transport to the Night Elven lands across the sea and as the Archdruid and the Archmage left dozens of druids and priestesses came through to begin the healing process. Rishzaran had stayed behind as did the priestess Feranda to help where they could.
“How do the dwarves stand being underground all the time,” the hunter asked the paladin. “If I had to live my entire life underground, I think I would go mad.”
“Fortunate that you are not a dwarf then,” said a third person who had gathered at the fire pit. This was a young soldier that Liet had met previously named Daelin Taylor. The Stormwind soldier had been ordered to stop anyone from leaving the refugee encampments and Liet had wanted to return to Lordaeron. Given that Liet was badly wounded even with the Light’s strength if Daelin hadn’t stopped him the Paladin likely would have died. The younger man apologized for stopping him, though, Liet bore him no malice. He was following his orders, Liet could not fault him for that.
“Well not everyone can be a dwarf, lad,” the last member of their little group told them. “There is no need to be jealous about that.”
His name was Thranfold a member of the Ironforge city guards and a sergeant in the Grand Army of the Alliance. He was on duty and as such was in full armor. He didn’t need to warm himself by the fire and Liet had the impression that he was keeping an eye on Rishzaran. That said, he wasn’t being rude or secretive about it and he seemed a rough but pleasant soul.
“Well of course I’m jealous,” Daelin told him. “Who wouldn’t be jealous of such a handsome people.”
Thranfold laughed aloud and Liet smiled. Having once met the man Private Taylor was named for, Daelin Proudmore, he thought that the former Lord Admiral of Kul Tiras would have liked him.
“So, what do you think of our people joining your Alliance,” Rishzaran asked the three of them.
“I think it’s a great thing,” Daelin said quickly.
“Aye,” Thranfold agreed.
Liet thought for a moment before he answered. “Undecided.”
The others turned to look at him. “Really,” Daelin asked. “Even after they sent people to help with the famine.”
“And I am grateful for that,” Liet told the young soldier. “The reason I am undecided is that I note the Night Elves are exceedingly different from the rest of the Alliance.”
Rishzaran looked down at the dwarf and the humans standing next to him and shrugged. “I can’t help being taller than the rest of you.”
“I don’t mean in terms of physical appearance,” Liet suppressed a sigh of frustration. “I mean culturally. I understand that your people follow a moon deity instead of the Light?”
Rishzaran again shrugged, “Her name is Elune. She is described as the mother of our people, our guide, and protecter. Feranda could tell you more about her if you wanted. I’m just a hunter.”
The paladin accepted that with a nod. The Light was not opposed to other religions, at least not the way he and most of his people were taught, in fact the Light embraced all genuine faiths. What worried Liet was that different belief systems meant different mindsets. Could the Alliance, as fragile as it was now, survive a clash of cultures.
“Excuse me lads but I need to return to my rounds,” Thranfold announced as he walked back towards the city gates.
“I’ll join you,” Liet told him. Bidding good day to Daelin and Rishzaran they passed back into the city.
The main courtyard of Ironforge was always busy these days. With thousands of refugees passing through on their way to Stormwind it wasn’t likely to be less crowded anytime soon. So, it was with some surprise when Liet saw an open space in the crowd. Curious, the Paladin and the guard pushed through the crowd and found themselves looking at a giant black cat. Liet had heard of the great cats of Stranglethorn Vale and thought that that this animal resembled a panther. At the moment it was casually walking through the crowd ignoring most of the attention that it was getting.
A couple of children bravely ran up to it with one little girl even attempting to pet it. The panther didn’t seem to mind and even nuzzled the girls face. It sniffed the air and turned to look at Liet in a way that seemed far more intelligent than a normal beast. The panther strode past the children and their nervous parents to stop in front of the paladin. With casual grace the panther changed shape before everyone’s eyes until a Night Elven woman wearing leather garments with a long leaf green cloak stood in its place.
“Liet Ardtel,” she had a more cheerful voice than the paladin expected. “I was sent to find you. The priestesses have encountered a problem with healing a group of human soldiers. A dwarven healer recommended you.”
“I understand. Lead on please.”
With a friendly wink at the children, she turned away from the stunned crowd and walked towards the great forge. Thranfold followed her, curious about what the problem was and likely curious about this person as well. She was constantly looking around at the archways, the forge, and anything else that caught her eye. In conversing with her Liet had the impression that she was more like a kitten than a panther.
“This place is huge. I got lost four times trying to find you. Eventually I went back to that healer who recommended you and asked if he had anything you had worked with. He showed me the house you had been staying in and I used your scent in panther form to find you. I may have been distracted a couple of times but I did find you, eventually.”
“I assume you’re a druid lass,” Thranfold asked politely. “Can all druids turn into animals?”
“Yup, though I am pretty new to this calling,” the druid told the dwarf with a smile. “I actually prefer cats. I can relate to them when I purr.”
While Thranfold laughed Liet didn’t. She frowned at him and turned to the guard. “Are all paladins as grumpy as him?”
“No, he is a special case,” Thranfold told her.
“You said there was a problem with healing human soldiers,” Liet inquired.
“Yeah,” she didn’t make a joke this time. “My sisters were tending to a group of soldiers, and they said they had a problem. Since they were tending to humans, they thought they needed a human healers advice on treatment.”
Liet couldn’t fault the logic, but he was confident that the dwarven healers could have handled it. Perhaps that was just where the Night Elven mindset took them, he thought. It was something to remember for the future.
It didn’t take long before they arrived. An old storehouse that the dwarves had converted into a makeshift hospital. One of the Night Elven priestesses was standing outside of it looking frantic as they approached.
“There you are,” she exclaimed when they came closer. “Did you get lost again Mariv?”
“Hey,” the druid said in a huff, “Just because I got lost four times yesterday doesn’t mean I got lost again.”
“So why did it take you so long to find him?”
Mariv looked down at her feet and mumbled, “I got lost.”
The priestess gave an exacerbated groan as she said, “Druids.” She then turned to the Paladin. “Liet Ardtel, my name is Feranda Brightpaw. My sisters and I have been treating some your people to ease the burden on the other healers of this city. We were treating a group of soldiers, but they seem to have some kind of ailment that we’ve never encountered before.”
“Were these soldiers from Lordaeron,” Liet asked steeling himself if they were and possibly afflicted with the curse of undeath.
“No, and that is the strange thing,” she told him. “They were a group soldiers from Stormwind who came to us complaining about pains, but they do not seem to be injured in any way that we can detect.”
“Wait a minute,” Thranfold interrupted. “Are all of these soldiers’ males? And are all the healers in your group females?”
“Well, yes,” Feranda told him sounding confused. “Does that matter?”
Liet got it. “Oh no. You don’t think…”
“I do,” Thranfold said with an annoyed grunt.
“Do you know what’s wrong with them,” Mariv asked.
“Yes, we do,” Liet grimaced and looked at the sergeant. “Do you want me to deal with it?”
“No, I got this,” with that the dwarf stomped past the priestess and entered the old storehouse.
Liet followed closely behind with the priestess and druid on his tail looking confused.
Inside the storehouse cots were arranged with a couple of dozen soldiers laying on them groaning in pain as the priestesses prayed over them or laid hands on them to ease their discomfort. Liet leaned against a wall as Thranfold walked by cots. Occasionally looking down at the faces of the moaning and groaning young men. Feranda was about to ask what he was doing when the dwarf roared at the top of his lungs.
“ON YOUR FEET!”
Every soldier immediately followed his orders with more than one falling on the floor as they did so.
“RETURN TO YOUR BARRACKS IMMEDIATELY FOR A SPOT INSPECTION! AND IF THERE IS ANYTHING OUT OF PLACE THAT LUMP IN YOUR THROATS WILL BE MY BOOT UP YOUR END! NOW MOVE!”
The soldiers sprinted out of the storehouse as the priestesses looked confused. Thranfold walked to the door and paused long enough to turn to the Night Elves. “It seems the administrations of Elune are truly blessed, they’re cured. Hallelujah. Liet.”
The guard nodded to Liet who politely nodded back with a slight but satisfied grin. The dwarf left to notify those soldiers commanding officers who would take it from there.
“What just happened,” Feranda asked sounding a little shaken.
With a shrug Liet asked, “Do Night Elves not have to deal with puberty?”
With a laugh Mariv got it first. It took a couple of the priestesses a few moments to get it as well, but they did with some laughing like Mariv or grimacing as though they were disgusted. Feranda seemed torn between laughing and looking disgusted.
“So, those soldiers,” Feranda sounded pained as she spoke.
“Were wanting to spend time with a group of beautiful elves and decided the best way to do that was to lie about having an illness,” Liet finished for her.
The druid was now laughing much louder and tried to speak in between breaths. “Well, it could have been worse. At least now we know that humans can be silly.”
“I’m not sure I would describe their behavior as silly,” Liet told her.
“Why not,” Feranda said agreeing with the Mariv. “While immature no one was hurt, and they are being disciplined about their behavior. Actually, I find it reassuring that humans can be silly it’s something that we have in common to bond over.”
Liet thought for a moment. “I suppose so. I hadn’t considered that.”
“And to prove it,” Mariv said with a smirk. “I’m going to sneak into their barracks and ruin it before their inspection.”
“Wait, hold on,” Feranda called out as the druid transformed back into a great cat and bounded towards the door. Mischief clearly on her mind.
At least she did until she found herself in a cage made of light. She gave a mournful meow as she looked at Liet. He wouldn’t show it, of course, but he was laughing on the inside.
Chapter Thirteen: Marshalled Forces
Orcs rarely felt panic. This night was an exception. A peon fled through the low hanging branches and underbrush of Ashenvale. The others of his work crew were all dead. Most hadn’t even had time to scream before their foes were on them. A pair of guards had attempted to fight but were slain in moments. Both had arrows from the front and the back sticking out of them as they died. The peon and a few others had run. This wasn’t the first time the Warsong clan had sent a lumber harvesting team into the great forest but as he heard his fellow workers scream one by one, he was confident it would be his last.
Panting for breath the peon collapsed beside one of the great trees he had been sent to fell. He slammed his fist into the trunk. He knew that it was for the same trees he had been sent to fell that the Night Elves were killing them.
A sound caused the peon to look away from the tree. And there they were. Five of them, silhouetted against the moonlight. Tall, imposing, wearing hoods and masks and each with a bow and arrow at the ready. One of the Night Elves strode forward as she sheaved her bow and arrow and drew a long knife. With no other recourse the peon roared before the knife was the plunged into his heart.
Valn had come to Orgrimar leading a new caravan and was helping to unload supplies when word reached the city. The Tauren listened as a Warsong Clan Orc described the scene of horror that had been found on the boarder of the Barrens and Ashenvale. The bodies of fifty orcs, a work crew that went into Ashenvale to harvest lumber, had been unceremoniously dumped in front of a Warsong clan outpost by vines and branches that moved of their own accord. If that hadn’t been enough, the lumber stocks had been set on fire, more than a month of effort had been lost.
The word spread through the city quickly. Orcs are a violent and aggressive people, in Valn’s opinion, but they aren’t mindless. In fact, many of those he walked past suggested that the attack was provoked. If the Warsong Clan hadn’t attempted to harvest lumber the Night Elves would have left them alone. Mindless or not though, it did not change the fact that fifty people were dead. And a response would have to come.
As Valn was a person of some influence he was asked to join the discussion of what that response should be with the Warchief. Thrall sat in the high seat before a large group of elders and leaders from not only the orcs but trolls and Tauren as well. There were now several Forsaken present, including Clarian. The priestess saw him and beckoned him to stand next to her.
“It’s just starting,” she told him solemnly. In contrast to his heavy leather garments, she wore a light crimson and black robe, the colors of the Horde. “The Warsong elders were explaining what happened.”
“No talk of a response yet then,” Valn nodded throwing a glance at the many members of the Warsong Clan who were present. To say they looked furious would be an understatement.
“High Priestess Tyrande has sent a response,” a herald called out to those assembled and handed a sealed scroll to the Warchief. He read it in silence and without a word handed it back to the herald. The herald read aloud, “The Horde was warned repeatedly not to intrude upon Ashenvale with the intent of harvesting lumber. The Night Elven people do not consider this latest intrusion to be an attack by the Horde itself but rather an outlying group of criminals who sought to disrupt the peace. The criminals have been dealt with, and their ill-gotten gains have been destroyed. We now consider the matter settled and seek no further confrontation with the Horde or any other outlying groups associated with it.”
The room was dead silent as the herald spoke. The silence, in its own way, spoke to Valn of just how angry the orcs were at this situation. Like a dam about to break. And it broke with one word.
“Criminals!”
The room exploded with fury as orcs, trolls, and Tauren roared their anger. Valn also bristled at the word even though a part of him understood the Night Elves meaning. The Warsong Clan were taking lumber from the Night Elves lands, that could not be denied. But what should also not be denied is that Orcs had every right to make a life for themselves and their families. And that they should not be vilified for it.
“Well, I now have a better idea of what this High Priestess is like,” Clarian told him. Valn noted that she remained stone faced regarding the Night Elves response. Many other Forsaken joined in the chants of vengeance for the fallen.
“Do you not think this attack warrants a response,” Valn asked with a steady voice.
“I don’t know,” she shook her head. “But I don’t think my opinion matters much in this discussion. If this is the response from his people, then the Warchief may not have a choice for what he intends to do.”
The Tauren looked at Thrall. He was messaging his forehead with one hand with his eyes closed. Valn had the impression that the Warchief was considering his options. After a few more minutes of letting the room growl, he held up a hand for quiet. It took a moment before they obeyed but Thrall was the Warchief for a reason and no one wished to disrespect him.
“The Warsong Clan’s actions have forced a confrontation that I hoped to avoid. But the deaths of so many of our people cannot be ignored. We shall march on Ashenvale. Assemble the Horde.”
A cheer went up among those gathered.
The word spread through the city like a wildfire. The Horde was assembling for a march and possibly a war. Orcs gathered by the thousands to report to their clan leaders for orders. Trolls and Tauren joined with them either reporting to the city guard for instructions or forming small bands of their own. The Forsaken, new to the Horde reported to the city guard and joined the ranks of warriors that were being marshalled together.
Valn, Zentabra, Ughbar, and Clarian stayed together as they and others fell in line with the host. The caravan leader wasn’t certain how many warriors had been gathered but it was a mighty host to see. Wolf Riders made up the front ranks by the thousands, overhead Wyverns and bat riders rested on the walls of the city waiting for the order to set out. And rank upon rank upon rank of warriors stood at the ready before the walls of the city. Shamans and Witch Doctors walked among the warriors’ offering blessings for what was to come. Striding from the gate, Warchief Thrall rode his great dire wolf before the Horde. Looking every bit like the legendary figure he was he called out to the gathered host.
“My warriors. The Night Elves have slain too many of our people. This demands justice. And the Horde shall have it. They will turn over those responsible for this or they will answer with their defeat. We march!”
Astride kudo beasts’ drummers sounded the order to move. The flyers on the walls leapt into the air as the warriors of the Horde marched beneath them. Valn couldn’t help but notice that while the display seemed to embolden the hearts of many of those in the Horde it was a very loud display. The Night Elves would see it coming long before they reached Ashenvale. And he understood that that was the point. Thrall wanted the Night Elves to see them coming. It would give their people time to weigh their options. If they accepted the Warchief’s terms and surrendered those responsible for killing the Warsong work crew, then Thrall would declare that there was justice and recall the Horde. If they did not. Then the army would exact that justice in blood and fire.
The Night Elves did learn of the coming attack quickly. And their scouts easily confirmed what High Priestess Tyrande already knew. The coming army was vast, and the Night Elves were in no position to stop it. Word reached Ironforge soon as well with emissaries presenting the reality of the situation to King Bronzebeard. The king of Ironforge called his counselors together and asked that Feranda be present as well. Feranda stood with those gathered and gave a silent prayer for Rishzaran who had already returned to Kalimdor.
“So, this is how it stands,” the king called out to all present. “The Horde is coming for the Night Elves unless they turn over those responsible for killing their lumber crews. And they are coming with an army that the Night Elves can’t stop on their own. So, what are we going to do about it?”
“They are a member of the Alliance our choice is clear,” called a dwarf warrior in the crowd.
“The Horde must be stopped,” called another.
“The Night Eves started this they can deal with it,” called a third who was promptly either supported or shouted at by the others in the crowd.
“If I may speak,” a human noble woman that Feranda did not recognize spoke loud enough to be heard.
“Go ahead, Lady Prestor,” the king offered with a gesture.
“This entire situation was started by a few individuals,” she spoke with an eloquence that almost hid the venom in her words, almost. “Would it not be better to turn over those responsible to avoid an armed conflict?”
“That wouldn’t work,” the human Paladin named Liet spoke now. When Feranda had first met him, he looked intimidating in simple garments. Now that his armor was reforged by the dwarven smiths he looked like someone who could challenge an army by himself. “The Horde is on the march. They won’t just want a handful of people they will want to make an example, so this never happens again. Besides, this way they can send lumber crews into Ashenvale at any time they want and if the Night Elves defend their lands from thieves the Horde would simply come in force again.”
“Aye,” a dwarven guard standing next to Liet agreed. “If we want to help the Night Elves we’ll need to give a similar show of force. We have an army already assembled. Let’s put it to some use.”
Much of the crowd agreed with him to Feranda’s relief. Having spent some time with that army helping the refugees from Lordaeron she had seen firsthand that it was a great host. More than that it felt good to hear that her people were not being abandoned.
“I appreciate everyone’s fervor,” Lady Prestor seemed aggravated that a plan of hers was being interrupted, “but I would remind both Liet Ardtel and Thranfold Ironbraid that there is an ocean separating our forces from the Night Elves. Even if we managed to gather enough ships to transport the troops any conflict would be over by the time they arrived.”
“We have portals to their territory,” someone in the crowd pointed out.
“And our mages would run out of mana by the time even a tenth of our troops were sent through,” Lady Prestor continued. “Even faster if you expect them to bring any mounts or war machines with them.”
Not to mention any other complications that may arise from thousands of individuals passing through a mage portal from one place to another, Feranda thought with a grimace. In her free time, she had gone to Ironforge’s libraries and learned just how dangerous portals could be. Not the least of which was that the anchor point for the portals might be disrupted. Which meant that any soldiers who passed through an unstable portal could be sent anywhere. The bottom of the ocean. Miles above the surface. Or any number of immensely dangerous locations around the world.
“Then,” King Magni looked to a group of gnome mages with a grin. “We’ll just have to send everyone at once. Signal the army to make ready. We have some work to do.”
Trumpets called soldiers to arms. The camp outside of Ironforge sprang to life at once. The preferred mounts for humans were great equine beasts called horses. Beautiful but strange animals in Feranda’s opinion but they certainly seemed like capable creatures as did their riders. Knights, she had heard them called rode clad in heavy armor and bearing either lances or war hammers. Vast ranks of infantry bearing lighter armor than those worn by the knights but heavier than Night Elf Sentinels moved into parade ground rows with their spears, swords, and shields at the ready.
Ironforge’s garrison was mobilized as well and was just as impressive. Dwarven riflemen marched out in ranks that formed alongside their human allies. A strategy Feranda heard Liet called pike and shot was a new concept that humans and Dwarves had been drilling together to learn. Heavily armored dwarf warriors moved about the army in a loose formation acting as sergeants and making sure the host was in formation while priests and priestesses of the light offered blessings. Overhead gryphon riders had gathered from aeries in great number landing in an empty space in the center of this army.
A loud roar coming from the city gates made Feranda spin around and what she saw made her catch her breath. Great metal war machines drove down the road from the city. They moved on their own with no mounts to pull or push them and they formed a ring around the army at the base camp facing outward.
“They’re called steam tanks,” Daelin Tailor told her, he was walking with her as an escort. “I know they’re loud and they smell funny but there aren’t a lot of things in the world that can stop one of them. Let alone a host of them.”
Feranda could only nod as the last of these steam tanks moved into position. The last rank to join this army was a small group of Gnomes. The priestess had been curious about these beings who made up for their short stature by being exceptionally intelligent. This small group moved about the army drawing symbols of magic into the dirt. Feranda recognized the drawings as the runes for a teleportation spell.
“Your majesty I must protest on behalf of the House of Nobles,” Lady Prestor had accompanied King Mangi as he surveyed the army before him. The young Night Elven priestess thought he had a satisfied look on his face as he listened to her complain. “To send so many Stormwind soldiers into battle without addressing the kingdom is a violation of…”
“I spoke with King Varian,” the king of Ironforge was wearing true armor now instead of the ceremonial armor he had been wearing around the city. It wasn’t shiny or elaborate but Feranda had no doubt that it could withstand almost anything. “He agrees with me that the Night Elves need our support and that we have an obligation to send aid.”
“Still your majesty,” Lady Prestor didn’t give up. “Surely the king would want a representative of his court to accompany the army?”
“Oh, I quite agree,” King Magni’s eyes twinkled. “That’s why you’ll be coming with us.”
“What,” looking startled she noticed that the gnome mages had drawn spell circles around the two of them as well.
“We’re ready your highness,” a mage with pink hair said with a smirk.
“Then my friends, let’s have an adventure,” King Magni called out to the army who cheered as the spell was activated. Feranda braced herself as the light from the spell blinded her. At the same time glad to be going home and knowing that a battle was almost certainly coming.
Chapter Fourteen: Renaming and Proving
The Horde made good time. They marched from Orgrimar in three separate arms. The first arm was an advance scouting force comprised of wolf riders. The second arm was the main body of the Horde commanded by Warchief Thrall. The last arm brought war machines such as catapults and demolishers. Ughbar rode with the wolf riders today along with much of the city guard. Commanding them was High Overlord Varok Saurfang. The elder warrior was a legend among the Horde renowned for his prowess in battle. It was an honor to be led by him and it filled Ughbar with pride that he was doing so.
The scout force reached the border of the great forest first. Their destination was an outpost of the Warsong Clan along the border. The Warsong outpost was manned, and their commander came out to greet the scouts.
“Throm’ka mighty Saurfang,” the Warsong commander cried as the scouts came to a halt in front of him.
“Throm’ka brother,” Saurfang called back. “The Horde marches to seek justice. What news from Ashenvale?”
“The Night Elves are established in the woods near us,” the commander told him. “Two encampments that we know of but there are almost certainly more. They have not gone beyond the forest but will watch us closely if we enter it.”
“Have you lost any more warriors,” Saurfang asked.
“No sir,” the commander declared. “Per the Warchief’s order my garrison has not ventured into the forest, except for reconnaissance. We have not sought battle with the Night Elves, and they have not sought to fight us.”
Saurfang gave him a nod and urged his mount forward. Ughbar and the others were about to follow but with a hand signal they were ordered to hold their position. The veteran leader rode to the edge of where the Barrens met Ashenvale. There were once many small trees and shrubs that grew near the edge of the forest that had been cleared by the Warsong Clan. Now the forest’s edge was defined by a field of grass meeting the massive and ancient woods. He sniffed the air and peered into the trees until he spied something. Ughbar attempted to see what he saw and spied a hooded form darting through the trees.
The High Overlord gazed into the trees a moment or two more before turning his mount back to his warriors. He seemed to be appraising their strength versus their foes. “The Night Elves have a good position. We will wait for the main force to arrive.”
“Sir,” one of Ughbar’s companions called out. “Our enemies are right there. We should go to meet them.”
“Our duty is to the Horde not to satisfy your need for a fight,” Saurfang growled at him. “We will fully scout out the area before the main host arrives and….”
The High Overlord spun in his saddle so fast that he seemed to blur. He swiped with the flat of his axe and knocked away three arrows that were shot at him. A shout went up from the trees and a host of Night Elf Sentinels charged out launching more volleys at Saurfang and his riders. Ughbar smiled as he watched them charge. ‘Whoever gave that order won’t live to regret it,’ he thought as he and his brothers and sisters brought their wolves into formation and charged.
The Orcs closed the distance with the Night Elves faster than the purple skinned warriors anticipated. What followed was brief but brutal as the Sentinels put up a valiant fight. But they were on foot without heavy armor or lances and their foes were all mounted. One managed to scratch Ughbar’s leg with a glaive but no more. Ughbar smashed her head in with his axe and saluted her for her courage. In minutes only a handful of the Night Elves who charged them were left with the survivors staggering back into the forest. Several wolf riders were about to follow them, but the High Overlord called them back.
“Why attack at all,” Ughbar asked his commander. “They had perfect cover.”
“I can only guess why,” Saurfang shook blood from his axe. “Perhaps they crave battle with us just as much as many of our kin crave battle with them?”
“High Overlord,” the Warsong commander and his garrison had rushed to join the battle but without mounts it was over before they could. “Shall I send word to the Warchief?”
“Indeed,” Saurfang smiled as he looked to the many towers around the gulch, they had fought in. “Tell the Warchief that first blood has been drawn. And that the Warsong Gulch remains secure.”
A scribe following the garrison commander wrote out the message and quickly left to find a messenger bird to send it with.
“Is that what this place is called,” Ughbar asked.
“It is now,” Saurfang laughed.
“Who ordered that attack,” High Priestess Tyrande bit out furiously.
“Salva Treehawk,” Shandris told her quickly.
“Send her to me,” Tyrande said with a bitter growl.
“If only I could,” Shandris said with just as much bitterness, “she died in the engagement.”
Rishzaran was on sentry duty near the High Priestess’s command tent. As such it was easy to listen in on the raised voices of Tyrande and the Ranger General. The Night Elves had positioned themselves throughout Ashenvale in a relatively loose pattern of encampments. Not being certain where the Horde would strike to enter Ashenvale Tyrande had ordered her forces to remain on standby and not to engage the Horde. Apparently one junior officer had decided to take the initiative and defy her orders. And gotten herself and a good number of other Sentinels killed.
Reports had been coming in quickly with stories of the Horde army on the march. If the reports were to be believed, then the Night Elves were outnumbered at least four to one. Likely by more with the army divided into different arms. The Sentinel’s and volunteers like Rishzaran were not a small force by any means. But they were without aid from many of their traditional allies. The dryads, mountain giants, chimeras, and many other powerful creatures were refusing to answer the call to arms. Even many druids were choosing not to come further diminishing the forces that the Night Elves could have gathered. Malfurion Stormrage had chosen to commune with the wilds for guidance and was not yet out of his meditation. Staghelm and a few other druids had come but many of them were either inexperienced, like Mariv who seemed to eager to play than fight, or too willful to be of much use in war, in Rishzaran’s opinion.
The hunter’s thoughts were so full of dark mutterings that at first he didn’t hear the noise coming from the main road. As it came closer, and he noticed that others in the camp were wondering what the commotion was he was roused from his thoughts. Many in the camp thought that the noise was the Horde attacking and issued a call to arms. As Rishzaran listened he noted that the sound was coming from the West, away from where the Horde was gathering. Also, he recognized many of the sounds in the noise coming towards them. The sound of music that he heard every morning and evening from an encampment outside Ironforge.
Smiling, he ran to the main road looking West, knowing he was deserting his post but also knowing that it was necessary. Sure enough, as he looked through the trees he saw them. The Alliance had come. Trumpeters announced their arrival, and the human soldiers marched to the beat of drums much faster and sharper than those used by the Horde. Horse mounted knights and ram mounted mountain thanes rode in the vanguard. Dwarven riflemen marched with their weapons pointed to the sky and human footmen advanced in such number that they may have outnumbered the entire Night Elven host on their own. A flurry overhead told Rishzaran that the hippogriffs used by the Night Elves had made way for gryphon riders who descended through the tree canopies by the score to land beside the Alliance army.
High Priestess Tyrande, General Feathermoon, and Archdruid Staghelm joined the many other Night Elves who had come to watch their advancing allies. Someone in the front rank of the Alliance army called a halt which was obeyed immediately. Riding forward on a great ram king Magni Bronzebeard came towards the High Priestess and bowed.
“The Alliance stands with you and your kin my lady,” the king of Ironforge called out to the stunned looking High Priestess. “Where do you need us?”
“I greet you, your majesty,” the High Priestess of Elune bowed to the Dwarf king. “Let us enter my tent and plan out next moves.”
The king dismounted along with Liet Ardtel, a human noblewoman Rishzaran had not met, and others of his retinue. Aside from the noble all of the others were wearing full armor and armed with swords or hammers that glittered in the moonlight. Ferenda was with them as well and she went up to the hunter and gave him a hug, making him blush but she pretended not to notice. Following the others Rishzaran watched as they made plans for the coming battle.
“As far as we can tell the Horde has no idea we’re here,” king Magni said as he surveyed a map of Ashenvale laid out on a table. “If we go to meet them at this gulch, we may be able to catch them by surprise. Perhaps even force a peace.”
“You’re suggesting that we make peace with these mongrels,” Staghelm said with a snarl.
King Magni shrugged, “I’m suggesting that we at least make the effort. From what I’ve been hearing this Thrall is very different from the previous Warchief’s. He may be willing to talk. If we can make peace it would be better than fighting another big war that your people ain’t ready for. Of course, if the Horde just wants to fight, and your people just want to fight, well. The lads and I didn’t get all dressed up for nothing.”
Rishzaran and several of the others laughed. In the little time he had spent in Ironforge the hunter admitted that he had grown fond of the dwarves. Just their attitude towards life was something that he enjoyed.
“Forgive me, your majesty,” spoke the noblewoman from before, Lady Prestor he had her called. “But, why not simply launch a preemptive strike and destroy these vermin?”
“We don’t have enough information about the Horde’s forces to know if we could win outright,” Liet pointed out quickly.
“Nor are we in a position to start an escalated conflict,” General Feathermoon added. “I agree with the King, if possible, we should seek a parley rather than charge the Horde.”
‘And what makes you think that our new allies would even follow such a command from you if the Horde doesn’t want to talk,” Staghelm said with a growl.
King Magni shrugged, “Shall we find out?” He then gestured out of the tent with a bow.
General Feathermoon returned the bow as she walked past him, guards and other members of the retinues to stand in front of the Alliance Army. Without a hint of nervousness and with the weight of centuries of command experience she called out to the soldiers.
“Attention! Soldiers of the Alliance. I am General Shandris Feathermoon, the leader of the Night Elven Sentinels. I thank you for coming to our aid. We will set out soon to confront the Horde. If possible, we will seek to negotiate peace. If the Horde refuses, then battle may commence. Will you follow me in this conflict?”
Without a word every human, dwarf, and gnome in the army saluted with either their hands or their weapons. Gazing at the host, General Feathermoon returned the salute and returned to the command tent. She ignored Staghelm and instead walked to the High Priestess and the King. “With your permission we will set out at dawn to meet the Horde. If we do not wait for the next night we may catch the Horde by surprise. May Elune grant us rest and wisdom for what is to come.”
“They will come to blows soon,” spoke a voice into the mind of another.
“Well,” spoke another, “we did at least try to keep things peaceful.”
“It’s too early to give up,” spoke yet another. “Neither side is fully committed and leaders on both sides are reasonable. We may be able to convince them not to fight.”
“Avoiding a fight altogether may no longer be possible,” spoke the leader of this group. Her voice resounding gently in the minds of the others. “But we may be able to direct the fight in a way that avoids a war.”
The others considered this until one she trusted above all others spoke. “I agree. But I fear subtly will not suffice any longer. We will need a more direct approach.”
“As you say,” she declared. “The two factions will meet at a gulch near the edge of Ashenvale. We will intercept them there and set the stage for what is to come.”
Chapter Fifteen: Parley Interrupted
The march from Orgrimar did not take as long as it felt to Zentabra. The young troll was glad of his boots as they came to a halt near the border or Ashenvale. The red and black banners of the Horde were raised high as the formations of soldiers gathered near the forest. The Warchief chose to let his warriors rest before entering the great forest and a large encampment was made as supply wagons unloaded tents, food, and other essentials. Zentabra stretched his tired muscles as did many of the others who marched under the Horde’s banners were making camp in the early morning mist. Valn and Clarian were with him as he took a bedroll and bag of rations from a kudo beasts’ wagon.
“Are ya sure you don’t want one,” he asked the undead woman and the Tauren brave, offering his own bedroll.
“Thank you, but my people require very little sleep,” she told him kindly as she sorted through the rations and water skins.
“I appreciate the offer but none of the Horde army bedrolls would fit me,” Valn said with a chuckle. He carried a fur blanket that he unrolled and started setting a small fire nearby with sticks and kindling. In moments a warm fire was going and Valn was preparing a pair of rabbits he had caught to roast. The smell of cooking fires throughout the Horde encampment made Zentabra relax.
“Do you think the Night Elves can see our fires,” the troll asked after he took a bite from his roasted rabbit.
“Almost certainly,” Valn had already finished his meal and was taking a long drink from a water skin. “I would be surprised if they weren’t tracking our every move.”
Zentabra swallowed another mouthful. His unit was to be part of the first wave entering the forest that afternoon. He wanted to ask the others a question and he wasn’t sure how to word it. Clarian, watching him, seemed to guess what was on his mind. “It’s ok to be scared before a battle.”
“Really?”
“Of course,” Valn reassured him and passed him a water skin. “Only fools go into battle without any fear.”
“Do you really think there will be a battle,” Zentabra asked after he took a drink.
“There will be if they have any say about it,” Ughbar had joined them at their fire, his wolf mount sniffing hopefully at Zentabra’s half eaten rabbit. The troll smiled as he tossed the wolf the rest, receiving grateful tail wags in return. Ughbar meant the Warsong clan, and the young troll watched their warriors as they covered their faces and arms in ash and war paint. The orc guard saw the younger troll grimace and patted his shoulder.
A sound came from the forest that caught everyone’s attention. Birds were being disturbed beyond the tree line and a series of drums could be heard in the distance.
“Do Night Elves use drums,” Zentabra asked as he and the others stood facing the forest.
“Not that I’m aware of,” Valn’s brow was furrowed.
“I’ve heard drums like those before,” Ughbar said baring his teeth.
“So have I,” Clarian had a strange look on her face. Like she was suppressing a painful memory. “We need to alert the rest of the camp, now!”
But there was no need for them to do so, as orders were already being given and the encamped Horde army roused itself quickly. The wolf riders formed the vanguard with ranks of warriors behind. Wyvern and bat riders circled above with some attempting to observe into the forest. Demolishers were moved into position to confront whatever was coming from the woods. As Zentabra and the others were among the first to come into formation they joined the Warchief, High Chief Cairne Bloodhoof, High Overlord Saurfang and Nulgash of the Warsong clan in the front ranks. Ughbar offered to let Zentabra ride with him so that he could see better.
At first the troll was confused about what might be coming. Then the trees parted. Not from being pushed aside by war machines or cut down with axes. Instead, it looked as though the trees moved of their own accord to let others pass. The first to pass through were Night Elves astride great cats. But they were not alone. In addition, ranks of humans riding horses rode alongside them. Following the riders came Night Elf, human, and dwarven soldiers in numbers that easily matched those of the Horde. Hippogriffs and gryphons flew above the army in giant V formations. Finally, great metal monsters came into view. All of them seemed to be belching steam from chimneys and bore the standards of a bronze hammer. Carried among the human soldiers were gold and blue banners of a lion.
“Ironforge and Stormwind,” Clarian identified the standards and banners.
Zentabra watched the advancing host in awe. He looked to the Warchief and saw that Thrall was studying the soldiers carefully. Saurfang called his attention to a group of riders that advanced ahead of the rest. A Night Elf wearing silver armor and a dwarf wearing gleaming gold and bronze armor were in the lead. The host came to a halt while the small group rode forward.
“I recognize the High Priestess Tyrande but who is the dwarf with her,” Valn asked standing tall even among the mounts of his fellows.
“Magni Bronzebeard, High King of Ironforge. And arguably the current leader of the Alliance,” Clarian told him and the others.
“I’ve faced him in battle before,” Saurfang told those around him. “He is a great and honorable warrior.”
“If that is so, then perhaps we may find way to avoid a battle,” Cairne also walked beside the others.
“Bah,” Nulgash spit out,” why should we avoid battle when the enemy stands before us?”
“If there is a way to avoid spilling the blood of my warriors I will find it,” Thrall spoke to all and rode his wolf forward. The others following close behind.
As the leaders of the two factions rode to meet a series of shadows passed overhead. At first Zentabra thought it was nothing more than clouds or perhaps flying mounts. Then a shout from both armies caused him to look up.
Dragons. Bright red and glittering in the sunshine flew above them. The flyers of the two factions parted quickly as the great creatures descended. One of them, far larger than the others, settled to the ground. Flames surrounded the great creature. Yet the ground did not burn. Instead, flowers seemed to sprout around it. When the flames died away a tall being stood who resembled an elf wearing elaborate red robes and with long horns, like a crown, protruding from her head. A name came unbidden to Zentabra’s mind as he saw her. Alexstraza, the dragon queen. She who is life.
She held her hands out to the leaders of the Alliance and the Horde and called in voice that was soft yet everyone in both armies could hear clearly, “Pardon this intrusion my friends but I would speak with your leaders.”
Riding carefully the leaders dismounted once they came closer to the dragon queen. All of them bowed to her. Zentabra had heard many stories about Alexstraza. He understood that here was a being who was to be revered as much as any deity, spirit, or loa of their world.
“It has been too long Tyrande,” she spoke to the Night Elf ruler as a mother to a child who had traveled far. “I beg your forgiveness for not coming to your aid against the Burning Legion.”
“No forgiveness is necessary,” Tyrande bowed to her again. “I’ve heard of the terrible fate you and your kin were subjected to.”
“And for that, I can only beg your forgiveness, your majesty,” Thrall told her and was about to sink to one knee when the dragon queen placed a gentle hand on his armor to stop him.
“Please stand before me as an equal, son of Durotan,” Alexstraza guided Thrall back to his feet. “Those responsible for my pain are gone. And you have worked hard to build your people a future to be proud of.”
It was a rare thing for orcs to cry and yet Zentabra thought for sure that the Warchief’s eyes were wet.
“I know that it is not my place to interfere directly with the mortal races,” she continued. “Yet, in the wake of the great changes that have come to our world I have chosen to make an exception today. And to ask those of you gathered here to find a peaceful resolution to your conflict.”
“Well,” the dwarf king spoke calmly, “That may be difficult. There has been blood shed on both sides now.”
“This is true,” the dragon queen agreed. “Both factions have suffered. Would it not be better to value the sacrifice of those lost by not seeking further blood though? To acknowledge that both have suffered loss and move toward a better future?”
“Due respect, Great Alexstraza,” a Night Elf druid that looked too proud and haughty to be the legendary Malfurion Stormrage spoke, “but what happens when the next group of thieves come into our woods. Do we simply let them defile our lands?”
“Our people have homes to build and mouths to feed,” snarled Nulgash. “We will do what we must to provide for them.”
“As you can see Alexstraza,” High Chief Bloodhoof’s calm and deep voice interjected before anyone else could speak, “there are strong opinions here. And valid concerns on both sides.”
“I agree,” High Priestess Tyrande spoke again, “While I understand your calling Alexstraza, both factions have cause for battle with valid reasons. Why should any of us withdraw when we will simply be here again in a few months?”
The dragon queen’s gaze passed from individual to individual. Zentabra almost hid when her warm red eyes settled onto him, but she gave him a reassuring smile.
“That is a fair question my friends,” she said after a few moments. “But perhaps we should look to another source for wisdom to find our answer. After all, your people have more in common than you realize.”
“What ancient wisdom would you share with us,” asked a human paladin that stood next to the king.
The queen of the red dragon flight laughed making the clearing feel warmer. “I wouldn’t call it ancient wisdom young knight of the silver hand. More like the wisdom of children.”
She didn’t answer right away as she watched her kin circle above for a moment. “My flight has been observing your people for some time now. Some of us have even been interacting with you whether you knew it or not. And we learned that no matter the people, all of your children have games they play in common. One in particular can help us to settle your dispute for a time. I propose a game of capture the flag.”
Chapter Sixteen: Ten vs Ten
“You’re not serious,” High Priestess Tyrande asked. Liet couldn’t blame her. To settle a territorial dispute with a children’s game sounded ridiculous.
“I am very serious my old friend,” Alexstraza’s smile belied the fact that she was a dragon. One of the five aspects and the Queen of the red dragon flight. It seemed to run in contrast to what Liet had assumed about a being of her stature to suggest something like this. “The rules for this game are these. Each side will choose ten champions. Those champions will then seek to capture the flag of the other. We will place the flags at either end of the field and my flight will set a boundary line. If an individual goes out bounds. Is rendered unconscious or injured. Or, regrettably, is killed then a new champion can be selected to take their place. Aside from that, anything goes. People are free to fight one another to their hearts’ content using any weapons, spells, or tactics they wish. The game ends when the enemy’s flag is captured and brought to the other side of the field.”
“So, we would do this one time,” a very tall figure with the torso of a man and the head of bull asked. Liet had heard stories of the Tauren from the Night Elves. This one was an elder of their people and the paladin observed that he was an insightful being.
“Umm,” Alexstraza thought aloud. “I suppose in the interests of fairness that we should make it a best of three. With two captures to win.”
“What happens if both flags are captured at the same time,” asked a being that Liet had to do a double take when he saw her. It was an undead human, that much was clear from her grey skin and yellow, glowing, eyes. What was more, he recognized her as someone who had been a lady in waiting to a member of the Lordaeron Royal court. Rachel, he thought her name was. How she had come be here and how she and other undead humans had come to join the Horde he did not know.
“Fair question,” Alexstaza considered. “Isn’t it traditional rules that both flags must be present to represent a capture? So, we should go with that.”
“And to be clear,” the Night Elven Ranger General, Shandris Feathermoon, asked, “the winner of this game will receive what?”
“The right to harvest lumber from Ashenvale,” the dragon queen told her. She inclined her head towards the Horde leaders. “Should the Alliance team win, the Horde will not only cease any lumber operations but will aid the Night Elves in replanting those trees that have been felled.” She turned back to the Alliance. “Likewise, if the Horde team wins, the Alliance will take no action against the Horde for their lumber operations.”
Thrall raised an eyebrow and looked to the High Priestess. Tyrande also had a curious look on her face but she seemed to be considering the proposal.
“With no disrespect intended, great Alexstraxa,” Lady Prestor asked in a voice that seemed far too casual for anyone addressing the Dragon Queen, “why should either side agree to such a thing when our armies are already assembled?”
Alexstraza’s gaze made Lady Prestor step back. In fact, Liet thought that the Dragon Queen was looking through the noblewoman. Considering just what Alexstraza was, that might be exactly what she was doing. But her gaze relented, and her smile grew brighter.
“Because none of the leaders gathered here wish to be careless with the lives of those under their charge. And make no mistake my friends, this is a proposal. Not an order. You are perfectly free to refuse and engage each other in open battle if you wish. Neither my flight nor I will take any action against you. I simply offer this as a means to avoid bloodshed.”
“This is the High Priestesses party as far I’m concerned,” King Magni said with a chuckle. “But speaking for myself I like the proposal. I say we do this.”
“As do I,” the Tuaren elder spoke with a gentle rumble that Liet thought was suppressed laughter. “The spirits will surely support such a contest and honor those who take part in it.”
“This is nonsense,” loudly declared an orc wearing warpaint. He ignored the glares that the elders were giving him for speaking out of turn. “We are gathered and ready for battle. Why should we relent because some dragon suggests we play a game instead?”
“Oh, so you’re scared you’ll lose a game if we play,” the slight voice called from Liet’s side. A gnomish mage Liet had met a few times named Lizi Mech. She was smirking at the orc who was many times her size.
“I am Nulgash of the Warsong Clan,” the orc almost roared. “I fear nothing.”
Rather than words, Lizi made a chicken sound towards the orc that seemed to make his green skin turn red. In fact, Liet choose to stand in front of Lizi just in case. The paladin looked the orc in the eye without fear. “If a warrior of the Warsong clan can be baited this easily perhaps he should not be one of the Hordes champions?”
“I agree,” Thrall and another orc commander had walked to Nulgash’s side. The hot-headed warrior relented as Thrall stared him down. “I also agree to the proposal of Queen Alexstraza. The Horde will participate in this contest and will abide by the terms of victory or defeat. Will the Alliance do the same?”
“We will,” Tyrande said with a graceful nod. “Though I would add one additional point to this game. Once it is over, regardless of the victor, both armies will disband and return to their homelands freely.”
“Once again, I agree,” Thrall gave her respectful bow.
Alexstraza beamed at those present and clapped her hands. At the sound of the clap the other dragons landed around the gulch. Forming a border around a space that included part of the forest and a small part of the Warsong outpost. The dragons settled themselves either laying down or sitting as they watched the mortal hosts around them. Alexstraza called out in her voice that reached everyone, “Once your champions have been chosen and assembled, we will begin.”
“Are we really doing this,” Liet asked of King Magni when as they remounted. “This seems so, silly.”
“There is an ancient dwarven proverb, my lad,” the king told him with a grin under his beard. “It’s only silly if it doesn’t work.”
“Hey,” Lizi Mech huffed, “I think your people took that from us.”
“Well,” the king shrugged, “the origin of the quote is in dispute but my point stands.”
“Actually,” Rishzaran had a grin on his dark purple face, “I think this is better.”
“I agree,” Daelin had removed his helmet so he could wipe sweat from his brow. “Better a fight between champions than an all out battle.”
“I’m just worried about how this game is going to play out.”
Liet’s worries turned out to be justified. Both sides chose their champions and the ten warriors from the Alliance and the Horde faced each other. It seemed that Tyrande and Thrall chose their most hot-headed fighters to go first as they were all eager to the chance to battle. A dragon roar and bout of flame signaled the start of the game. And both sides simply ran at each other and started to fight. Humans, Dwarves, Gnomes, and Night Elves clashed against Orcs, Trolls, Tauren, and Forsaken. No strategy. No push for an objective. Just a free for all in the center of the gulch.
Thanks to magic both armies were able to see the fighting as it was projected in the air on great, conjured screens. More than one person was shouting advice or admonishing those in combat.
“What are they doing?”
“Don’t stand in the center you idiots!”
“Go after the flags!”
“It’s just a gnome, punt it!”
Liet found himself shaking his head as he watched the warriors having at each other. They were good fighters; he would give all of them that. But they weren’t thinking of anything besides fighting. It wasn’t long before several of those fighting were wounded and the red dragons would carry them out to be treated by healers while new champions entered the fray.
Thankfully, the new patch of champions had more intelligence. One, a young-looking Troll snuck around the fighting champions and managed to find the Alliance flag. Someone in the Horde encampment blew a horn in triumph that, unfortunately for the Troll, alerted everyone to a flag being captured. The long-haired troll ran as fast as he could to the other side of the gulch while arrows were being fired his way with more than one dwarf or human was charging at him. However, he had too great a lead, and the others were too busy fighting in the center to stop him. The troll reached Warsong outpost and raised the captured Alliance flag.
Several Horde drums sounded, and a cheer went up from their forces as the troll was whisked away from the field. He looked embarrassed by the attention as he was praised by so many.
The next group of champions included Daelin and Rishzaran. The two of them made an impressive team as they worked together to reach the Warsong outpost. Daelin, wearing heavy armor and with a sword and shield was an effective screen while Rishzaran grabbed the flag. With the champions involved being more aware of their objectives the hunter’s journey back was more difficult than it was for the troll earlier. Daelin, despite being wounded in his arm and leg, was able to guard Rishzaran until he raised the Alliance flag near the forest.
With trumpets sounding the effort the both of them were brought back to the Alliance lines with Feranda treating Daelin’s wounds. With a score of one to one, and now that the more hot-headed warriors had been allowed to fight each other, Liet offered himself as a champion to make a strategy for victory.
Chapter Seventeen: Satisfaction
“Well, that was sloppy,” Thrall said with a grimace as he watched the Horde’s champions being recalled.
Clarian could hardly blame him. Both the Horde and Alliance champions had been more interested in fighting each other than going after the flags. There had also been some embarrassing moments so far. The crowning glory of which was a gnome shrinking an orc and Tauren warrior with some kind of device and kicking them to the other end of the field. Both survived, thanks to a red dragon catching them and returning them to full size, but they were clearly humiliated. The Horde did have a saving grace in the last round being Ughbar. The Orgrimar city guard had defeated three Alliance champions and had come very close to stopping the Night Elf hunter from claiming the flag. Only stopped because a human soldier he had been fighting allowed his arm to be broken to stop the orc from advancing. If the other champions had supported Ughbar they might have done better.
Three of the Horde champions had been removed from the field, with one of them being badly mauled from fighting a Night Elf druid. Previously, warriors had jumped at the chance to enter the fray. This time, likely because it would determine the victory, no one seemed as eager to step forward.
“With your permission Warchief,” Valn took his war spear from his back. Thrall gave him a nod and the massive Tauren brave strode towards the battleground.
At first hesitant Clarian chose to follow him. Zentabra, still flush from his capturing the flag in the first round joined the group. Ughbar greeted them as did the seven other champions who had stayed. Nulgash was among them with the Warsong clan warrior looking tired but determined. Another Forsaken was with them, wearing a dark cloak and smelling so strongly of brimstone that even with her dulled sense of smell Clarian almost recoiled. Two other Tauren braves were there and both saluted Valn. Zentabra was the only troll in the group with the others being orcs but he was certainly welcome.
Across the field five new Alliance champions had entered the battleground. The human soldier and the Night Elf hunter had stayed. As did a dwarf mountain thane and two Night Elf Sentinels. Joining them were two gnomes, one wearing the robes of a mage and another with several knives on her belt. Two more Night Elves joined with one being a druid and another being a priestess. The last to join made Clarian swallow hard. She had thought that she recognized Liet Ardtel before. Now that she saw him in full armor bearing a two-handed hammer, she was certain.
“Do you know that one,” Valn asked as he also watched the Alliance gather.
“He was one of Uther the Lightbringers students,” she told him quickly. “Be very careful with him.” The brimstone cloaked Forsaken scoffed, but he was the only one. Even Nulgash seemed to take him seriously. Uther the Lightbringers reputation was such that the prospect of fighting one of his students was a daunting one.
“Well,” Valn said, “I wasn’t planning to attack them head on without a plan. We will spilt into three teams. Clarian and Ughbar will guard our flag. Zentabra, you and I will do our best to sneak through and find our way to the enemy’s flag. Nulgash, you lead the others in doing your best to keep the Alliance’s attention. Everyone agreed?”
“Sounds good,” Nulgash said with a tusked, toothy, grin.
A series of acknowledgements later and the group waited for the start of the game. A red dragon roared and breathed a jet of fire skyward and the game began again. From her vantage point in the rear Clarian was able to see the battleground well. The Alliance had also broken into groups. With three edging along the outside of the gulch Nulgash attempted to intercept them but as his six warriors came to the Sentinels and Mountain Thane, Liet and the Night Elven hunter and human soldier charged in. Nulgash suddenly found himself surrounded and bellowed orders to the other members of his group while he found himself dueling Liet. The Warsong orc was good with his twin axes but every time he almost made contact his weapons would bounce off a golden barrier around the paladin. Meanwhile, Liet’s Warhammer struck the orc twice. Glancing blows so far but Nulgash was clearly out matched. She grit her teeth and cast a healing spell that refreshed the warrior.
“Don’t get distracted,” Ughbar growled beside the priestess. The orc guard wasn’t watching the fight in the center. Instead, he was busy watching the approaches to the flag and positioning himself directly in front of it.
Moving behind the city guard Clarian readied herself for battle as best she could. If she were alive, she could have called upon the Light to cast shields and barriers or heal their wounds with ease. Now it was a painful thing for her to do. However, being undead did have advantages for someone of her calling. Not the least of which was that she could better sense the world around her in ways she couldn’t while she was alive. Including detecting those who were attempting to be hidden.
The first individual she sensed crept slowly through tall grass. It took her a moment longer than she thought to track this person because at first, she thought it was an animal. After focusing on it though she sensed a mind beyond instincts. She subtly tapped Ughbar on the shoulder and inclined her head at the tall grass. He gave a grunt of understanding and tensed his muscles to act.
Springing from the tall grass a panther leapt at the orc. Ughbar hit it in the belly with the haft of his axe sending the great cat to the ground. Another moment and the cat had transformed into a druid then she transformed again into a hawk that flew away. Distracted for a moment by the druid Clarian almost missed the other two souls approaching quickly.
Though difficult, Clarian cast a shield to protect Ughbar in time to intercept two arrows. The Night Elf who fired at them was rushing towards them with a human soldier charging at Ughbar. With a war yell the orc intercepted the soldier while Clarian focused on stopping the hunter from shooting either of them. A scream from the middle of the field caught everyone’s attention for a moment. It seemed that the brimstone smelling Forsaken was in fact a warlock and he had decided to be impressive and summon an infernal. The rock like demon, clad in green flames, crashed into the Alliance group. It would have wrecked worse havoc had Liet not been there. Guarded by the Light he grappled with the demon and brought his hammer onto its head, slaying it instantly as it collapsed into debris. With another swing of his weapon, he caught the warlock in chest sending him flying away.
“Demons, really,” the human soldier exclaimed.
“Well,” Ughbar said with a shrug, “No one is perfect.”
The pair laughed as they dueled, and Clarian couldn’t help but do the same with the Night Elf she spared from afar. She stole a look back at the field and noted that the warlock had been cast from the battleground with a Forsaken rouge taking his place. As chaotic and insane as this entire situation was, she found herself enjoying it. True, the stakes for the battleground would have consequences, but here there were no moral ambiguities, no hopeless battle against great evil, just a fight. In fact, few of those here even seemed to want to kill their foes. The hunter she dueled was clearly aiming for her arms or legs rather than her heart or head. She spied Nulgash purposely pull back from a blow that would have killed the Sentinel he fought now so he could strike a knockout blow instead.
Another arrow almost caught her arm forcing the undead healer to concentrate on the enemy in front of her. She used her right hand to continue to cast a shield and with her left readied a spell to smite the hunter. Clarian knew that many Forsaken favored using shadow magic as it was more pleasant for them to use and was, bluntly put, better at attacking. She had no aptitude with the shadow though. The few times she attempted to use it felt, off, something she couldn’t explain and felt uncomfortable using. It was why she had chosen to focus on potions and non-magical means for healing for a time. Since undertaking the Tauren spirit walking ritual, while calling upon the Light was still painful, it came much easier for her.
The hunter was weaving through the tall grasses with a grace that impressed Clarian. In spite of the Night Elf’s size, he moved so quickly that it was hard to track him. If she had been human, Clarian thought, it would have taken all her focus to keep up with him. And she would have missed the druid returning in the form of a panther to steal the flag. Instead, she strengthened the shield she had been casting and thrust her left hand at the druid just before it took the flag in its mouth. With a growl the panther jumped away from the flag and shook its head in pain. A triple volley of arrows almost broke through the shield but it held long enough for Clarian to prepare another spell. This one would put the druid to sleep for hours.
Before she could cast it a shout from the center of the field drew her attention. A dwarf mountain thane had defeated a troll shaman and was charging towards her. Forced to fight three foes at once Clarian refocused on defense. Not having time to complete the sleep spell Clarian jumped back toward the flag in an effort to guard it. But it was too late. The druid had taken the flag and was running back towards the Alliance held side of the field. The dwarf changed tactics and instead guarded the druid as she ran. The Alliance trumpets she expected to hear blared.
The Horde drums that happened at the same time were unexpected but welcome as she saw Zentabra and Valn racing back toward the Horde side of the field. Both flag bearers at first sought to race towards their allies in the center. When they heard that both flags had been captured, they ran to the sides in an effort to evade each other.
Clarian ran with Ughbar to come to Zentabra and Vuln’s aid. Zentabra was doing well by avoiding fighting with anyone. He had neither the experience nor the ability to attempt to fight an Alliance champion. Vuln, by contrast, easily defeated the gnome rouge and Night Elf sentinel who attempted to intercept the flag bearer. Liet was another matter as the paladin clashed with the Tauren brave with his hammer meeting Vuln’s war spear with a force that Clarian could feel from meters away. Vuln, despite being taller and bulkier than Liet, took a step back from the blow. At first Clarian feared that he might have been knocked back. The reality was that the brave was adjusting his stance and thrust out with his spear, forcing Liet to either block or retreat.
A gust of wind swept through Clarian’s hair and lifted the paladin into the air. An orc shaman had joined the battle as well as, Clarian smiled, Archmage Revarda. The elder undead mage added to the shaman’s spell by casting blocks of ice into the wind further buffeting the paladin. If he were a normal paladin, it may have been enough to stop him, maybe even kill him. Wings of Light emerged from Liet’s back and he glided back to the ground evading the ice as he did so. He landed just in front of Zentabra. The young troll did his best to evade him, but Liet was able to knock the flag from his hands. The Archmage acted quickly and cast a spell that froze Liet’s legs in place. Tossing the flag to his fellow champions, it was caught by a gnome wearing mage robes who seemed to be in many places at once. The Archmage’s brow furrowed as he attempted to figure out which copy was real.
Calling upon the Light for guidance Clarian, gritting her teeth in pain cast a blinding radiance in every direction around herself. Stunned by the flash, the real gnomish mage was the only one of her images that was disoriented. Unfortunately, Revarda was now fighting the Dwarf Mountain thane and Clarian herself felt drained and was on her knees from calling upon the Light as she had been. Thankfully Liet had his hands full with Valn. Ughbar, being the only one who wasn’t fighting someone else, ran to try and stop the little gnome.
A Night Elf, wearing priestess robes, blocked his path as she bowed her head in prayer without raising a weapon at the orc. Despite it being midday, silver moon light enveloped her and looked as though stars were falling onto the city guard. It did not appear to be hurting Ughbar much, or even slowing him down much, but it was enough. The gnome mage recovered and with a blink was gone. She had appeared at the other end of the field and raised the Alliance banner she had helped recover. The red dragons around the field roared and shot flames into the air along with the sound of Alliance trumpets to mark the victory.
Clarian sighed. They had lost. Oddly though, she felt satisfied. Looking around at the other Horde champions it looked like they were as well. That’s when she realized that she had just thought of herself as a Horde champion. Zentabra had walked up to her and offered her a hand up. It felt warm when she grasped it. The hand of a friend.
Chapter Eighteen: How It Began
“Will the Horde honor our agreement,” Tyrande asked. After the game the leaders of both factions met once again. Queen Alexstraza stood between the two groups in the guise she choose for interacting with mortals. Lady Prestor smiled at the show the dragon queen was putting on. Not only the elegant form she adopted but the whole of the flag game she had gotten both sides to play. In the past she had wondered if the only reason the great red dragon was named the dragon queen was due to personal power. The reality was that Alexstraza was proficient in politics and leadership. Far more so than Lady Prestor’s mad father would ever admit.
The orc Warchief carried himself with pride in spite of his faction’s loss. Not that his forces had anything to be ashamed of, Lady Prestor charitably thought. They had fought well. And if the game of capturing the flag been an actual battle it was debatable if they would have lost.
“We will,” the Warchief told the High Priestess. “The Horde accepts this defeat and will withdraw from Ashenvale. Should any member of the Horde attempt to enter the forest without the leave of the Night Elves they will be in violation of this agreement and may be dealt with accordingly.”
Tyrande bowed to the Warchief, an act of respect in this moment of theater, Lady Prestor thought, but a well-executed one. “We will not deny the people of the Horde the right to feed themselves. Hunters and those who seek to aid in the care taking of the land may enter Ashenvale freely. Lumber operations will not be tolerated. We will aid the Horde in finding alternative sources of lumber though.”
Queen Alexstraza inclined her horned head at King Magni, the dwarf looked like he was enjoying himself, which was good Lady Prestor thought. It would make things much simpler to resolve.
“Will the Alliance accept this matter as concluded,” asked the dragon queen.
“Aye,” King Magni bowed to her. “I am glad to see that the Horde had changed. But we will be keeping an eye on them.”
“As we will be keeping an eye on the Alliance,” the Tauren chieftain leaned on his war spear. Not out of need, Lady Prestor surmised but as a sign of relaxing. “We have not forgotten the actions of Daelin Proudmore any more than you have forgotten the actions of Orgrim Doomhammer.”
At first it looked like the King of Ironforge was going to give a nasty retort. Instead, he sighed deeply and nodded. “Nor should we expect each other to forget. The good and the bad.”
The Tauren chieftain nodded as well. Simple act, but one that carried respect.
With that the show seemed to be over. Orders were being given, and both armies were withdrawing. Lady Prestor was about to join the other nobles as they left when she noticed that Queen Alexstraza was staring right at her. What was more, it seemed clear that the dragon queen knew exactly who and what she was. Swallowing hard she choose to approach her and give a bow.
“I greet you, she who is life,” Lady Prestor gave the formal title of the red dragon as she knelt.
“Rise, child,” Alexstraza told her. Lady Prestor noted that another dragon, in the guise of an orc shaman, was striding towards them. As were other figures subtlety detaching themselves from the armies to stand with the red dragons. No one in the Alliance or the Horde seemed to notice. “You have nothing to fear from me or my kin in this place.”
“That is surprising great Alexstraza,” Lady Prestor counted on the confusion of the parting armies to cover any words she spoke. “Considering the past of my kin and yours.”
“I believe in second chances for others,” the dragon queen told her with a kind smile. “That includes the orcs just as it includes others. Did you have anything else to say, child.”
Bristling slightly at being called a child Lady Prestor was able to hold her composure. “I do. Do you really think that this peace between the factions will last?”
Alexstraza laughed, “I would hardly call their situation peace. They have chosen not to war with each other today. And that is a good start. But the Alliance and the Horde are equal and opposite each other in too many ways for there to be true peace between them.”
“Then, I don’t understand the point of your actions,” Lady Prestor said, genuinely confused.
“I know you don’t” the dragon queen said with a sigh. “The world will face many trials. It will need both factions to confront them. The less they fight each other the stronger they will be when the real threats emerge.”
Threats like the black dragon flight Lady Prestor thought with a hidden grimace. “Well, I will accept your wisdom great Alexstraza.” She turned to leave as another dragon in orc form came to his queen’s side.
“Onyxia,” the dragon queen called her back by her true name making Lady Prestor shiver in fear. While she was confident against the mortals she manipulated, she understood the dragon queen was on a different level than she could ever match. Slowly, she turned back to her.
“I do not know what goals you have in Stormwind but I am willing to allow you your second chance among them. I warn you though. Do not attempt to become their master. It will be your end.”
It was said as a fact rather than a personal threat. Regardless, Lady Prestor chose to leave, quickly.
“Do you think she will heed your warning,” Krasus asked his queen.
“I doubt it,” Alexstraza told her consort. “She is too much like her father to not make a play for power if it comes. Still, she deserves a chance to change even if she does not take it.”
“The humans will blame us for not warning them,” Krasus counseled.
“As is their right,” Alexstraza said sadly.
Their gaze turned to a few individuals. A young Night Elf priestess who was attempting to heal a fidgeting human soldier while a Night Elf hunter was laughing about something. A gnome mage who was trying to look innocent while a human paladin and dwarf mountain thane were berating her. It seemed she had turned their tabards from blue to pink. A young druid was nearby in her cat form and was getting ready to pounce on them.
Among the Horde ranks two Forsaken were having an animated discussion with a Tauren shaman with one of Forsaken looking cheerful and another a bit nervous. A pair of orc warriors, one bearing Warsong colors and the other a city guard, were offering the young troll who had been carrying the flags advice. A Tauren brave was laughing at one of his fellows who was punted by a gnome earlier.
“So, what do you think they will say about it,” Krasus asked with a smile. His orc guise was not as refined as his high elf form, but it seemed to make his smile brighter.
“About how it all began,” Alexstraza asked her consort with a wry smile. “Well, I doubt they’ll mention us. They never do.”
“Well, I think they will mention the concept of grand strategies, brave unions, and the idea of diverse people coming together.”
“Naturally,” Alexstraza laughed with him. “After all history loves telling such stories.”
“Of course, if anyone asks me, I will tell them how it actually began,” Krasus chuckled.
“Do tell,” she smiled as he began to sing.
“Why it began many years ago, upon a dusty road. Some a humble priest. Some a feeble rouge. They were the weakest of the weak. The lowest of the low. Yet as they come together. Their legend shall grow. They’ll battle their way from darkened shores to mighty peaks. They’ll face the worst the world can throw them and hold the line for weeks. Until the days of their being weak are firmly in the past. So long as they stand together their bonds will ever last.”
Laughing as she watched him sing, she leapt into the air and transformed back into her true form. Krasus followed her laughing along and the rest of their kin joined in. Flying quickly away they left behind the mortals and returned to their home.
“So, the Horde is going to establish a goblin zeppelin service between Orgrimar and Undercity,” Zentabra asked after he finished taking a long drink, “why not just use ships? I thought the Forsaken had ships?”
“We do,” Clarian was cradling a mug of hot chocolate in her hands as opposed to ale. “Unfortunately, most of them are not seaworthy. It will take time to repair them. And time to set up lumber operations in Lordaeron that will be safe from the Scourge.”
“Still, if you can manage it will ease the Horde’s resource burden,” Feranda added as she picked up her own cup of hot chocolate.
“Remind me again why we can’t just sail directly to Stormwind,” Risharan asked from a table where he sat next to Valn and Ughbar.
“The city harbor still needs work,” Daelin told him. “Menethil Harbor is the easiest access point for Ironforge and from there getting to Stormwind is relatively easy.”
Liet was shaking his head at the whole scene. Only a few days ago most of the people in this small tavern at the Goblin port city of Ratchet had been ready to kill each other. Now, with the armies of the Horde and Alliance disbanded and/or returning home many individuals from both hosts had gathered here looking for a fast ride home on one of the Goblin’s ships. It felt bizarre to the Paladin that members of both factions would be gathered here together like this. The Goblins didn’t mind the visitors, or the business opportunities, as long as everyone behaved themselves. Thankfully, the more hot-headed souls had stayed with the withdrawing armies rather than come here.
“Here you go,” Mariv had brought a round of drinks for his table. The druid had a playful look on her Night Elven face, as usual, making Liet a little leery of taking a drink until someone else at his table did so. Lizi Mech drank first and Thranfold almost as quickly, when nothing happened to them Liet joined them.
“If you are here, can I assume that you will joining the Alliance grand army once again,” Clarian had come to join his table. On the list of bizarre things today seeing someone he knew as a free-willed undead was among the strangest.
“I honestly don’t know,” he admitted. “Most of my life was dedicated to defending the Alliance. Now that the world has changed so much, I’m not sure what to do next.”
“I may have a solution,” Mariv injected. Her playful grin seemed a huge contrast to the Forsaken she sat next to. “I was talking with some of the others here and I had a thought. With the world so changed their need to be groups that can act independently of the two factions.” She pulled a large piece of parchment from her robes.
“This is a guild charter,” Clarian said when she read it. Several others came to read it passing the parchment from hand to hand.
“Think about it,” Mariv said with hands as much as her voice. “All of us have things we want to do around the world, and it will be a better adventure do them together.”
“You have no issue with working with members of the horde,” Valn’s deep voice was laced with amusement.
“I don’t at least,” Lizi Mech said with a laugh. “As long as you guys don’t mind working with us?”
Ughbar and Daelin shared a look then laughed as did many of the others. Liet was still processing the idea when Feranda came to the table and asked, “Can this work?”
With a chuckle Liet laughed as well. The Light seemed to have taken him here after all. “Why not.”
“Alright,” a chorus of the others agreeing echoed around the room as Mariv clapped her hands. “Now the first order of business is what do we call our new guild? I was thinking Fairy Tale.”
As no one else liked that name the debate continued for several hours. Eventually the new guild would have a name to submit to both the Horde and Alliance. It would be one of many. As these first adventurers set out into the world.
