The Winter War - Part 14: Unstoppable Force (Patreon)

The howled cheer of loyalty and defiance struck his ears moments before the explosion echoed on the winds.

The city’s foundations shaking as Mam'toth’s mournful cry became a gale that deafened the ears and a roiling, writhing spear of light, ripping through the air, launching shrapnel like a blizzard hurled hail. 

Malakk’s roar tore from his throat, warring against the blasts echo, “Moorabi!”

Only for the sound and fury to fade mere moments later, a cloud of dust and ash cast across the city like mist. 

Before his stunned foes could Malakk loosed potions into the air, voice sharp as a dagger whispered against one’s neck, “Tides Surge, unleash!” 

With a wide slash of his arm, the ice claws adorning it crashed through the bottles, suffused by the magic within the roiling lake’s worth of water was unleashed in one blisteringly cold wave of roaring water.

It crashed against the soldiers, dragging them from the gaping prison’s walls, across the charred lawns and frozen moat, to crash upon their charging fellows in the street. The advance broken as as a hundred or more soldiers now lay in tangle heaps or mangled, frozen metal.

“We should fall back to the capital!” Ixit hissed.

“Damn your eyes! We lose this point and we lose everything, hold your ground!” Not waiting another moment, he raced out the entryway. Ignoring his guard’s shouts and battering away paltry arrows, he surged into the air, over balconies and towards Moorabi’s death site.

What greeted him was ruined earth, shattered buildings, a monstrous crater, and air crackling with lingering energy and writhing mounds of earth and ash.

‘The blast... Did hey tried to contain it and redirect it, or Moorabi... Was this your plan?’ He wondered even as tears stained his cheeks. 

Looking upon the crater, much of the power of that final prayer had travelled Westward in one mighty wave, crashing against Dalaran's defensive barrier and leaving a host of its makers dead along the city's edge. 

His knees were shaking, Zerat writhing on his back as Frost and Gale felt heavy in his hands. Only the sounds outside the hollow void slowly encompassing his mind brought him back to reality. 

The warriors lay dead where they hadn't been simply vaporized but handfuls of archers and riflemen lived, pulling themselves from collapsing houses and shrapnel. Two mages materialized, the elf looking singed and the human, Malakk recognized him from the gates. 

All were moving to congregate around one man in particular, with shouts of “Andontidas!” whose horse lay dead, riddled with a shrapnel of bone, while the man himself could barely stand under his own weight, his staff tip shattered and his robes torn. 

At the sight of Moorabi's bones, his last remnants reduced to a weapon in one final act of devotion, any sense Malakk had remaining vanished and he loosed his axes. 

As the brunette arch-magi reached the man, Frost and Gale sung as they flew forth and the woman barely brought up a barrier in time. The ensuing wave of icy gales and howling winds scattering soldiers and distracting the Mages. 

Malakk crashed down behind the trio and with a violent back hand cracked the brunettes ribs. Sending the magus flying across the heaped earth before they slammed boneless to the floor, unmoving.

Fire was the elves retort, the man cursed him out in Thallassian as a shrieking phoenix clipped Malakk's his side before flying passed to go for another round as their master levelled another spell.

Malakk spun in time with the attack, Word Priests teachings on his lips, suffusing Zerat in warped energies that devoured the elves’ spell before it could do harm, and letting him draw then slash Zerat at the summon before it could burn him again.

Rather than or guard his back, Malakk followed through, charred earth sliding beneath his feet he used his free hand to call his twin axes to him and through the elf. The crimson robed magi was distracted for but a moment to defend himself. 

It was all Malakk needed as he kicked off from the ground, wethering a blistering arcane strike to his shoulder before crazhing the flat head of Zerat against Antonidas's fraying arcane defense. 

There was a horrid, thrashing, screech as magic dueled with holy and accursed energies before the mages exhaustion won out and Malakk ran him through in one fell strike. Twisted flames engulfing the man’s body in an instant, ensuring there would be no resurrection.

“I will make you scream for that!” The elf howled, fire dancing on his fingertips as his phoenix screeched above. 

Malakk drew back with a roar, but felt a distant cry echoing on the winds, a familiar scent filled his senses and he gasped, “Moorabi?”

Mam'toth’s power and Moorabi’s spirit surrounded his frame in a whirlwind of air, repelling fiery fury as they carried him into the sky. Flying him away from the phoenix and its masters wrath just in time to see hordes of soldiers he had been blind to racing to reinforce the elf. 

Landing among his fellows with a swirl of sound and fury, Malakk swallowed his grief, 'I won't fail you again, Moorabi...' 

He looked to Bith'Sa and Kutube'sa who fell in at his sides, pain and worry etched in their expressions. as his army watched in wary awe. 

He raised Zerat and rejoined the battle-line with a roar, “Hold fast friends, the Arch-Mages are falling! We will be victorious this day!”

In the distance one could almost see Dalaran’s barrier begin to fray and crack.

_______________________________________

Kael’thas watched the trolls escape with a snarl on his lips, “Damned animal! See if your gods save you from my wrath when next we meet.”

His phoenix cawed its last before crumbling into ash and forming into an egg at his feet. ‘Stay here, return to me once you have the strength,’ He instructed through the mental link.

Looking around he saw soldiers rallying and barked, “Rally your forces and converge on the Hold!”

The soldiers began to muster some sense of order, stepping over the fallen to march on the citadel from which a cavalcade of lights and explosions rang out.

Flicking the dust off his robes, Kael’thas glanced at Madora but shook it off, if she lived her bones were likely dust and she would be unable to help, assuming she lived at all.

“Prince Kael'Thas!” A voice cried from Dragonhawk back, swooping down to his side.

‘A Half Elf,’ He realized, looking over her familiar armor, and vaguely recalling her name as Finnel… Something...

“Take this message to your general," He snapped, "We cannot await reinforcements from Ironforge and Arathi, send our defensive magi and encamped forces back into the city to reclaim the Violet Hold now!”

“Prince Kael’thas, we cannot!” She cried.

“What do you mean!? Their number are small and dwindling. We have but to outlast them!”

It was then something crashed against the barrier with a resounding flash of light and seething mana. 

Turning his gaze skyward, Kael’thas saw a dragoon swooping over the city's defensive dome, a gout of fire escaping its maw before breaking off to join its scattered kindred in the skies above.

His gaze turned to Finnel who saluted, “They marched their Orcs through Silverpine and they’ve fallen on us from the South-West. They have swarmed over the internment camps and are hitting our marshalled forces and barrier hard!”

His eyes widened, gaze snapping to Madora, “G… Get her to a medic, I will return to the Citadel, convene with the survivors and reinforce the defenses.”

The half elf drew back as if slapped at the mention of ‘survivors’ before swooping down and scooping up the likely dead Madora and ferrying her towards a nearby healing station.

Kael’thas’s mind whirled, ‘Antonidas is dead, Madora is fallen and if the troll got away from the siege, Drenden must be dead or dying as well!’

Half the Council of Six in one day, it was madness!

Dragons fire crashed against the barrier and Kael’thas surrounded himself in surging arcane energies, teleporting back to the Citadel as the barrier continued to erode.

‘We have to fix this! We cannot be defeated by meager trolls!’
__________________________________________________

Xex’Mon’s Legions were swarming across the fields of Hillsbrad. From his perch on the hill, the wave of his forces swarming against the Alliance’s frayed lines looked akin to hordes of insects fighting.

“Dammit, Burx is losing control of his legion, at this rate the camp will burn down in the crossfire,” he seethed.

Tossing his Spyglass aside, he rose to his full height and bellowed, “Cannoneers and mounted raiders spread out to bombard and harass the enemy, do not let them organize! Nazgrel!”

“Hail Chieftain!” The Orc barked, his warriors already roaring and waving their weapons as they jostled for position.

“You and your legion shall ride with me; we shall surround the internment camp and divide the enemy ranks further!”

“But the shield!?” Someone shrieked.

“The soldiers are outside the shield, and they are what concern us, organize your ranks, and be ready to charge!”

He raised his hand, waiting not even a whole minute as the stamp of orcish feet began to shake the earth.

In one swift motion he roared, “Forward march!”

Like breaking a floodgate, the Orcs exploded into action, some even knocking kin aside in their mad rush towards the city.

“Drakkari Legionaries, hold tight formations, maintain your defenses and discipline, now march!”

With a single unified chant his personal Legions raced into the battle.

__________________________________________________

Arctikus bared her fangs in a wide grin as she brought an enchanted idol up to her mouth, “The dragons have arrived, gun boats, pull back, Shamans, make ready!” Her orders echoed and reverberated on the winds to her forces and the response was immediate.

Clapping Barafu on the back she nodded, “You know your duty.”

“The defenses shall hold, Great Mother,” her companion swore, hand over her heart before she turned her attention back to the coast as another barrage of arcane missiles was be readied by their foes.

That was when a dragon’s shriek rang out and Arctikus blinked at the sight of Quetz’Lith’s Saronite adorned dragon swooping over the crowd belting flames upon the marshalled mages and warriors who hastened to turn their offensive spells to defensive.

“Fear not dear maidens, for you have friends in high places!” Quetz’Lith cackled.

Barafu and her mages raised their hands high and bursting in shining glory from their palms were pulsating daggers of ice that launched into the air. Quetz’Lith flew around the enemy mages counterattack and with a burst of her drakes’ wings soared out of range from the Frostweavers hail of Ice Daggers.

“Magnificent my dear!” she cheered, weaving around a burst of flames from the coastline.

“Fly safely!” Barafu called as her apparent paramour swept around another spell and higher into the air as another wave of drakes came down from both sides to distract the enemy.

Arctikus arched her brow and Barafu chuckled, “What, am I disallowed from romance?’

“No…” Arctikus said slowly, “I just did not imagine someone so rough to be to your tastes in the long term.”

“As she told me one night, I am full of surprises.”

Cackling, Arctikus strode away, waving the younger troll off, “Good for you then!”

She marched two dozen paces back along the ice bridge until she found a break in the marshalled troops who now stood at the read. Shamans lining the outer rims, eyes aglow with power, their words laying atop one another as a powerful din filled the air.

Arctikus roared and with one sharp strike drove her spear into the ice sheet, with a violent, echoing crack the bridge was split and the water of the lake began to seethe and roil with unspent energy.

“Warriors, brace yourselves!”

_______________________________________________________

Aethas_Sunreaver watched warily, staff clutched tightly as the thick sheet of ice bearing trolls split into several massive fragments, as if forming large rafts spread across the lake.

‘They mean to attack us with those? Points for ingenuity I…’ A strange something niggled at his senses. His ears twitched, but the sound of dragons belching fire upon their fields drowned it out.

“The water lord magi!”

Aethas’s eyes snapped down and a gasp ripped from his lips as the waters bubbled and roiled, coiling backwards like a snake rearing to striking the lake heaved and ice sheets began to rise.

“All focus to our defenses, they mean to ram us!”

It was at that moment that another host of dragons descended upon their barriers and the trolls began to chant and cheer as the sound of crashing water roared towards them.

“Hold!”

_______________________________________________________

“Hold!” Arctikus knelt on the ice sheet, clutching her spear tightly as they rode the roiling wave towards the city. Bursts of arcane magic rained down from the city’s towers, battering their defenses, leaving her tingling and hissing from the subtle shock, even as it failed to wholly breach.

Wrapping her arm around Barafu, and seeing her warriors support their own magus, Arctikus roared, “Wash over them!” As the waves came crashing down in a cascading blast of force.

Shields strained, seethed, and shattered with the ice as the barrier before them bent and was breached in a burst of purple vibrancy.

The air howled and the world blurred, as Arctikus clutched the magus to her side and crashed into the muddy earth, the sound of warriors shouting as they landed echoing, as metal clanked, and the enemy’s magic began to hum.

“Charge!”

She did not pause, pushing Barafu behind her, Arctikus thrust her spear forward and in one swift strike struck through a mage’s face. Not slowing for a second she slammed her feet into the muddy ground and heaved; her roar echoing in time with her warriors as they raced to strike. Her spear was torn free and crashed against the charging foot soldiers, sending them flying.

A burst of spell fire shot towards her back, only to flicker and fade as Barufu called, “Magus’s, do not let the enemy rally!”

A sharp, baritone rose from the enemy’s ranks as a spear of arcane light shot into the air, “Drive these savages form our shores!”

In the distance, Arctikus could hear the roar of the orcish legions and clash of steel.

The Dragons roars boomed across the skies and shook the earth.

Dalaran’s Guard Towers crackled and hissed in the air.

The battle for Dalaran would end today.

_______________________________________________________

Durnholde’s walls were crumbling down.

Aedelas Blackmoore ran, cuts and bruises lining his frame, making him hiss with every step.

The orcs below were hooting and howling in joy or terror he did not know; some even climbing the walls, but where was Thrall?

Aedelas hadn’t seen his slave since their defenses broke and the stone gate crumbled.

His feet slammed against the stonework bridge, the roar of the army at his back as they tore through barricades and stomped out hastily made fires in their march.

“Blast it!” Beve’s voice howled across the din and with the last of his strength Aedelas flung himself from the bridge in time to hear and feel the blazing blast lick at his heels.

Shrapnel rained onto his back as the ground rumbled and the bridge fell into the orc’s interment zones, pursuing and escaping soldiers not quick enough screaming as they were dragged to their deaths.

Dirt dug under his nails, and Aedelas staggered to his feet, grasping at his cousin’s robes, “Where witch, where are the reinforcements you promised!?”

She looked at him, face too calm for the chaos surrounding them as mortar began to nip at the edges of their tiny island of safety and their few remaining cannons desperately returned fire to keep the enemy at bay.

“It seems,” she said delicately, “That Lord Falconcrest hopes I will fall in the confusion and then he will strike, I suppose I should have seen this coming,” she shrugged.

“You… You have a way out? That is why you are so calm, yes? An escape, new soldiers, something!?” He asked, words slurring in his desperate fear, his head swimming in pain.

Her eyes met his and she whispered, “I do, but first, what did you tell my mother when she came to you looking for help, Blackmoore?”

His heart froze, electric terror ran through his spine and a sharp sting exploded in his gut.

With quivering eyes, he looked down to see a dagger jutting out of his side. His grip grew weak and he gasped, “Cousin, Beve… Please…”

She raised her staff and slammed it against the ground, in a flash of purple light Aedelas felt a wall of force launch him into the air. He flailed, desperately grasping at nothing as his ruined fortress and crumbling walls fell from sight and the dim, dirty walls of the Orcs hovels swallowed him up.

He struck the ground with a violent crack that robbed all sensation from his body, a feeble wheeze tore from his lips as the world became flashes of color and sound before an Orc appeared before him.

“Thrall?” he hoped, he begged.

“No.”

That was the last thing he heard.

__________________________________________________

Taretha huddled with her mother in the back of their cabin, her father was shouting though the door, “We didn’t know! We didn’t know!”

But the soldiers outside heard no one’s plea, they howled with rage as they tore through the Durnholde, cries of “Traitors!” on their lips. 

The door exploded inwards as an Arathi Knight stood before them, chest heaving bloody sword in hands.

Her mother screamed, her father raised an axe in a desperate defense when a green blur appeared from outside and crashed against the soldier, sending him to the ground with a clanking thud.

“Th- Thrall?” She gasped.

The young orcs eyes were wide eyed and frightened, a too small sword in hand as he mumbled, “Got… Got to run, got to hide. New attackers from behind, everyone must go somewhere safe. Now!”

Outside the din of battle grew and smoke began to rise outside the shattered keeps walls as the invaders cries of vengeance became shouts of shock and confusion.

The sound of stamping steel plate rang as loud as ever though and with a tug, Taretha pulled her mother to her feet and they raced out the door with Thrall.

Orcs and other common folk were climbing over rubble and over the back walls in a bid to escape the throng of chaos as mortar ripped through the air as soldiers and fire spread.

Whatever else they might have all been, they were all united by one goal.

Survival.
__________________________________________________

Chants and shouts for order echoed across the war camp as Saidan’s marshalled his forces.

“I want every soul in this camp organized and ready within the hour!” He roared.

Tents were being torn down and swords sharpened as knights hastened to join their platoons, but there was a growing din somewhere in the distance he could not place.

“When Alexandros lures those invaders out of the pass, we shall fall upon their fort from every angle and shatter their fortress. With their secret weapon broken and Lights Hope shining bright, we shall have broken their morale and when our reinforcements arrive, this war shall be over in a matter of days!”

The cheer that rose lacked the energy and luster it had, had even a day ago, but Saidan could still see the path to victory clearly.

Even if a small kernel of worry burned in his chest; one that had been nursed as more woeful news flooded in from the South. 

First when he got words his Tirasi and Stormwind reinforcements had been battered bloody thanks to an ambush by a 'menagerie of monsters' in the foothills of Alterac. Bird women, Gnolls, and Trolls, luring the soldiers in with daring raids and trapping them beneath an avalanche before retreating into the grey peaks. 

'The survivors not forced to retreat to Tarren Mill shall be but a handful and it shall be many a day before another host like that can be raised.' 

Then there was Dalaran, dealing with a prison break of unprecedent proportions.

‘Dalaran can withstand a small incursion, of that I am sure.' 

Their reclamation plans might stall for a time once they broke the invaders fortress and took the Bulwark, but it could still be made to work. 

'Yet why no word from Tyr’s Fleet or Trollbane?’

The only rational conclusion was the invaders had moved other forces through Alterac  before the recent ambush even took place in a bid to stymie the second Southern Advance. 

If that were true, they would not hold the armies of Strom and Ironforge for long.

Of that he had absolute faith.

“My lord! Lord Commander, we need you!”

Turning to face Lieutenant_Sanders, Saidan bit back a weary sigh, “Speak, lieutenant.”

Sanders knelt before him, “A messenger arrived from Tyr’s Fleet, their Gryphon is nearly dead from exhaustion and soldiers are beginning to panic.”

“We only get word of Tyr’s Fleet now?” Shaking his head, he clapped Sanders on the shoulder, beckoning him to follow.

They raced to the roost lying near the edge of his camp, where dozens, maybe even a hundred soldiers were gathering, full of nerves as a familiar Page from Tyr’s Hand stood atop crates and shouted. 

“Reinforcements are not coming! Tyr’s Hand needs salvation now! Why do we follow Saidan to our deaths while home is being plundered!?”

“What is this!?” Saidan roared, the Light infusing his voice with weight and power enough that some fell to their knees on instinct and silence reigned.

From the crowd came a scraggly and nervous looking messenger raced out and knelt before him, “Forgive me Lord Commander, but I spoke before I could find you.”

“Explain what happened, have these invaders launched a surprise attack on the fleet?” He groused, not taking his eyes from the furious looking phage.

The messenger shook his head, “Nay, it is the Amani!”

Whispered curses fell across a gathering crowd, as Saidan bit back his anger, “These trolls are coordinating their forces then?” Surely that was the only way the Forest Tribes could ever do more than harass Tyr’s Bay and the fleet.

'To think, we mistook it for mere opportunism!'

“It would seem so Lord Commander, their attack on the bay came days after the fleet left, we thought ourselves able to handle it, but their numbers grew, and we are blockaded.”

“Has Tyr’s Hand fallen?” He snapped.

“Not yet, but…”

“Then your message of our navy; what of the fleet man?" 

It was the Page who cut in, his voice tinged with anger and smarm as he marched through the crowd.

“The Fleet has been destroyed, they ambushed our forces between Arathi and the Wetlands, now they move to strike us from behind.”

“That is impossible, the Amani have not the means!” Sanders spat from behind him.

The messengers raised his head, “We thought so too, milord, but my kin do not lie, my fellow riders were all who survived. The Amani had some manner of giant cannon atop a new Amani Vessel, bolstered by dozens of regular cannon all equipped as such. They ripped through our defenses and we lacked the room to maneuver and counter attack.”

“That accursed metal again,” Saidan spat, mind racing as he tried to strike a spark of inspiration and see the light at the end of a tunnel that grew ever darker.

The Page spoke before he could grasp it though.

“Saidan’s leadership has been folly and our home is now laid bare for the Amani savages! Do you all wish to stay here fighting an endless battle while those monsters pillage our towns and- Urk!”

Saidan hoisted him up by his shirt and shouted over the growing din of the crowd, “Heed not the words of a damned child! Loyalty to king and country is what brought us here, any who try and refute that do nothing but highlight their own cowardice!”

Kicking and spitting, the boy hissed, “You want us to fight for a traitor queen who sold this kingdom away while Amani pillage the East!”

Saidan tossed the boy to the floor, Light suffusing his being as he roared, “We are far from lost! Already in the East, the Inquisition are putting the Orcs and traitors on the run and shall no doubt be racing to aid Tyr's Hand. While aid hailing from the South soon arriving and when Fordring has laid low the traitors at Caer Darrow, we can send his army to-”

“Look at the skies!” Someone shrieked.

‘Oh Light, not now…’

His gaze turned to the cloudy sky that roiled and rumbled, great fissured forming as the winds howled and rain began to fall upwards.

‘What in the world is happening!?’

__________________________________________________

Battering ram crashed against the gates. Cannons bombarded the walls. Gryphon Rider hammer strikes, and Mage conjured blizzards battered against the defenses of Caer Darrow.

All around Alexi trolls chanted, sang, and danced, the air was thick and heavy with incense and burnt offerings as their deep voices rose high. 

Upon the battlements was Gal’Darah seemingly uncaring to the dangers outside, he was instead conducting himself like a mad conductor to the rising cacophony of sensations that battered the mind and soul.

“I… See here… Gal-” He felt Illucais’s hand on his shoulder, she was quaking.

“Don’t… Disturb them…” She whispered.

He looked to her, eyes wide and face pale; he grasped her shoulders, “What is happening Illucia, tell me…” She looked up; his gaze drifted upward as well.

The sky was being torn asunder.

_______________________________________________________

Tirion’s gaze was torn from Caer Darrow’s walls as Wildhammer Gryphon Riders -only what the clan could spare thanks to a Forest Troll offensive on their capital- broke off from the siege. Each among them surging into the sky, hammers raised high. 

‘What is happening!?’ The winter clouds were dark and roiling, mighty fissures carved within that looked ready to devour the lands and seas alike.

“The water!” Someone’s howl touched his ears and Tirion’s heart froze at the sight.

The oceanic lake surrounding Caer Darrow was receding. It was being drawn into the skies, rising in a great wall of crashing water.

“All forces fall back to the camp! Raise our defences! Drive your swords into the ground. A tidal wave comes!”

_______________________________________________________

Howling winds and raging rapids cascaded across Gal’Darah’s mind. 

The will of his god, the pantheon and ancestors kept him strong and grounded, let his mind and body be taken entirely. 

Their presence flowed from him to the Water Binders, Priest and Shaman alike, just as their spirits intern buoyed his strength.

‘Your people, so few lamentably familiar with the spirits have left them neglected and angry. Is this providence I wonder?'  

Mane whipping wildly in the wind he stood tall, word priests calls and familiar prayers falling from his lips as the energies swelled and surged, for if this was a storm, then he was its heart and mind.

Gal'Darah whispered in prayer to his gods, to his people and his king, the words spilling from his maw like crashing water. 

“I come now…” 

His hands rose high, drawing back the waves as they roared, hands against their ’backs’ he spoke the final words.

“...To wipe this land clean of discord and rebellion.”

Grasping the waves, he lurched forward, dragging their essence forward on straining arms, fangs near cracking as he roared, his voice drowned out by the crashing of tidal rapids.

“For Frost King Malakk!”

_______________________________________________________

The tidal waves came crashing down upon them before Tirion and his forces could all make it behind the barrier.

Flinging himself forward, he slammed his hammed into the earth, “Light Protect us!”

Called to his being, the warming, soothing, Light that was suffused to his spirit as his own skin, burst forth from his frame in a dome of pulsing power. It engulfed fleeing soldiers in its wake just as the tidal waves crashed down upon them in a deafening wave of destruction.

_______________________________________________________

Alexi could do little more than watch in awe as the waves parted around Caer Darrow before converging on the coastline.

Mighty titans crashing against one another in a deafening cacophony that put any cannon or storm he had heard to shame.

Shouts, thunder, gunship fire, all lost beneath the cascading roar of roiling destruction that fell upon the Alliance army with such force it let loose something like a thunderclap!

Illucia no longer clung to him, instead she looked near energized by the display, color returning to her cheeks, eyes alight with a giddy, manic sort of energy. Even his own untrained senses told him the air was alive with power that stirred the mind and heart alike.

The waves washed over the coast and crashed against the mountains, white foam and thrashing waters bursting and writhing even as they surged back into the great lake as if pulled by some unnatural force, and with them they took the Alliance army.

Or most of it at least, he realized, seeing scattered remnants from the ruined coast. Watch posts were gone, camps shattered to shrapnel in the waves and he could not count the number of soldiers or ships missing. Sheets of ice and broken remnants of boats and weapons littered the mountains and coastline.

Yet despite all odds, some remnants of the heart of their camp remained, battered, clearly having been breached, even if their defenses bore the brunt of the waves, and upon the path to the coast was a single golden beacon laying sprawled upon the ground.

Yet however miraculous their survival was, a single fact remained.

“We won…”

_________________________________________

Tirion gagged as he forced himself to his knees, chest heaving hair matted and wet from the dregs of water that had washed over him in their flight back to the great lake and his strength finally gave out.

He did not look around for those who had been in the shield with him. His body had not been able to sustain the strain of such divine power. Battered and struck against by gunboats and pressure near insurmountable, the golden shield had shrunk further and further until each of those within was taken by the wave.

Chest heaving, body aching with tension that left every muscle stretch taught, he forced himself to stand, eying the battered heart of his camp when the trolls voice called across the divide yet again.
___________________________________________

Gal’Darah let out a sigh, hand slapping against his chest as his heartbeat against his ribs wildly and he tried to catch his breath. “That took more out of me than I expected.”

He could hear the Barov’s shuffling closer to him on the battlements and waved them closer, “Fine timing, noble allies,” he said.

Pulling his amplification idol from his robes, he spoke, “Brave warriors, I commend you for withstanding that barrage! But I beg of you to see the reality of your situation and accept Frost King Malakk as your liege!”

The human’s leader, Tirion lurched around, howling in the distance, “We will never surrender our honor, our pride or our nation!”

Gal’Darah shook his head, “I spoke not to you, commander, for you are defeated, I speak to those who remain that have families and homes they wish to return to, lives they want to live. Throw down your weapons, forsake these falser leaders and you shall be safe!”

The Paladins hammer surged towards his head and with the barrier gone it would be dangerous indeed!

Gal’Darah made to call his spear, but Illucia appeared before him in a flash, arcane energy exploding from her hands and suffusing the Paladins weapon with violet light. The hammer froze and pulsed, throbbing with power before it exploded into shrapnel.

Not missing a beat, he continued, “But all of those so lost in madness they would reject this mercy even now… I can do nothing for one who is bent on spreading death and chaos in my Frost King’s dominion; some vessels were merely meant for destruction. Throw down your arms and be spared, for we come to meet you now!”

His warriors chanted, weapons raised, and the gates began to swing open, his rhino roaring and stomping impatiently as the vanguard marched ahead.

Gal’Darah glanced to the Barov’s staring at him quizzically and a might bit shocked.

He shrugged, “I said I was tired, not exhausted,” before saluting and leaping down to land upon Baku’s back to join his fellows as they marched to victory.

_______________________________________________________

Alexandros glared at the offending Mobile-Fortress as its masters let loose another barrage of spears and spells. Their beasts and magic lurching the monstrosity forward with such violent haste the wheels screamed and the land quaked.

“The Light shall not yield to such brute force!” He proclaimed, Paladins roaring in ascent, their raised hands letting loose glowing golden hammers that streamed into the barrier and burst forth as a roaring wave of golden fire. 

The Trolls at the forefront of the fortress raced back to avoid them even as their accursed metal repelled the rest.

“Milord, a messenger!”

Alexandros could feel his heart racing with dual dread and joy at the thought. Had reinforcements finally arrived, or had disaster struck?

Turning to face the unfamiliar woman, her subtly tanned features and oddly shaped ears marked her of East-Elven descent. She bore shining shield of gold and eyes mired with worry, saluting she said, “I am Holia_Sunshield, Permission to speak milord?”

“Granted, Paladin.”

Bowing her head she spoke, “The Lord Commander bids you to retreat with all due haste. Tyr’s Hand is under attack, Lord Fordring’s army has fallen to the trolls wicked magics and our reinforcements were sabotaged by Amani interlopers.”

A hush fell across the marshalled priests and paladins, Lights Hope dimmed and flickered even as Alexandros’s rallied, mind grasping for hope.

“We… We are to retreat to Hearthglen then, or Andorhol? Shall our forces be divided?”

Holia shook her head, “The hills northward to Hearthglen have been swarmed by Ogres and Gnolls who, they will be waiting for us. Andorhol is deemed a chance, but we do not know if we can hold it, even with…” she wilted at his scowl. “I speak only the Lord Commanders words, milord. Our army is fraying, soldiers break ranks to flee East in a bid to save Tyr’s Hand.”

“Dammit, dammit all! Tell the Lord Commander I shall hold the line for as long as possible that we might evacuate as many souls as possible,” Alexandros said.

“… Sir, the Lord Commander insists that you be among the heart of our forces to guard against pursuing raiders and ensure the Lights Hope does not fall into the wrong hands.” Every word obviously pained her, but he could see by her squared shoulders and stern gaze that these orders were paramount.

“But, the soldiers, the common folk…” lights Hope shook within his hand, a mournful wail keening high, only to be drowned out by the rolling of wheels and stamping of monstrous feet.

Grasping the crystal, he thrust it forward and roared, “Light Preserve us!” And watched the barrier flare to life. The golden energy shook and quaked with the earth, but held fast, even as another stream of spears and spells rained down.

‘Damn him, the monster kept us penned and distracted here, sending his forces over the hills to cut off our avenues of retreat and now… My life, this weapon, it should not be worth so many others!’

Shoulders quaking, he heaved a sigh, “Send word to the Lord Commander and beg that he evacuate as many as he can, and I shall do as he bids.”

“It is already being done, milord,” She answered, tone clipped in subtle offence, before she bowed, “and please, make haste.”

“I will, I swear it on my honor and loyalty,” Alexandros answered tiredly.

He turned his gaze to the mobile fort and for, but a moment caught the gaze of the black armored troll that must have been its commander, and he mouthed, ‘This is not over.’

Raising his voice, he shouted, “Forces, reform ranks and prepare to move Eastward!”
_______________________________________________________
Tari_Cogg could feel her stamina flagging as Dalaran’s barrier strained under the weight of its attackers. Her arms were numb, her every breath labored and tight as her insides tensed and coiled, just begging for relief.

But she did not break from her stance, arcane energies poured from her hands and infused the rippling dome as soldiers outside clashed with howling orcs.

Warmage_Calandra stood at the forefront, arms raised high, as she ordered, “Do not lose control! We must fold the defense in two, letting our soldiers slip through while repelling the orcs. Focus people, we all have to maintain the energy matrix’s stability!”

Tari could feel others had collapsed elsewhere already, their energy had been dwindling ever since that terrible explosion wiped out so many Magi. With dragon flames beating against the peak of their dome and who knew what else hitting them from the Lake and orcs before her, more and more energy was spread thin to keep everything at bay. 

Apprentice Catriona_Macrae let out a wretched sob next to her, body lurching as she strained to stay on her feet.

“Hey, hey hold on,” Tari whispered, “We can hold this, it will just be a bit longer, I promise.”

Something crashed against the barrier, and Catriona staggered to her knees, ears drooping.

“Hold formation!” Calandra howled, magic crackling as she tried to reinforce the barrier.

“I… I can’t!” Catriona heaved.

“Just a little longer, please!” Tari begged her.

Eyes squeezed Catriona lurched forward, mana streaming from her hands in a wild, chaotic arc that crashed against the field. Shoulders quaking, she twitched and skidded back as the energies began to writhe and rebound.

“It- It’s too much!”

That scream was the last Tari heard of her before the elves magic flashed around her like a bolt of lightning and launched to the ground.

Another battering ram strike broke through the throng of soldiers and strange runes blazed to life, burning away at their magic.

“Hold!”

Another screamed echo and with a burst of light, Battle Mage Crius was hurled back.

“Dragons are breaching the peak!” Someone screamed.

“Let the towers deal with them and reinforce our defenses at ground level!” Calandra barked.

Tari’s body screamed at her, she forced more arcane magic than she had ever wielded in her life through her frame, teeth grinding, vision flashing and-

‘Too much!’

In a flash of arcing light, power burst from her body and Tari skidded along the ground. As the world faded, she could hear more cries of shock and pain as the world outside the dome became terribly clear.

_______________________________________________________

The sounds of clashing steel and dying screams echoed on the streets. The stench of war fires stung his senses. It was the kind of battle he had seen as a child, those that stuck with him even now but concentrated and magnified into a city too small to bear it.

It was everything Malakk had hoped to avoid and yet for all his rank and power, found himself in the thick of and unable to halt it.

Dragging Zerat through the air, Malakk cleaved through a crackling orb of arcane magic.

Kutube'sa leapt from the streets and rebounded off a wall to land behind a clumsily erect cart barricade and with one flash of his flaming sword cut down the soldiers behind it.

A shot rang out and Bith’Sa was between him and the alleyway bound assassin before the bullet even got close, deflecting it, and unleashing a line of jagged ice spikes that ripped through the shooter in a single blurred moment.

The looming guard tower let loose another screeching ball of arcane energy, this one was met by a Frozen Warlord. She leapt into the air; arms crossed over her chest as enchanted words spilled from her mouth. In one swift motion the crackling ball of lightning crashed against her. Only to be rejected and dispersed with a violent flash of writhing shadows as her arms unfurled and she landed back on the streets with an irate hiss.

“Shamans, disrupt its flow!” Malakk roared.

His shamans answer was a uniform shout of as they danced in motion, fists clamming into the stone streets as they flipped over and crashed one foot after the other down again, forming a growing crescendo of sound and fury.

More distant barricades shook as the ground rumbled and in one cataclysmic roar, the earth beneath the tower surged upwards, tilting the tower as it was torn from its foundations.

Before Malakk could even order an advance, a spell from another street lashed across the air and came crashing down like a glowing meteor of ice that exploded on contact, ripping apart the remaining foundations and sending the arcane tower toppling down.

‘No, no!’

Malakk and his forces reared back from the shockwave and dust cloud that followed as another quake rocked the streets of Dalaran.

The tower had collapsed not just on soldiers, barricades, or empty streets, but houses too.

“Commander Gan’Rah, take your war band and search for any survivors!”

“As you say, Frost King Malakk!” She answered, breaking off and dashing down the street, warriors and casters in rank and file behind her.

Malakk, turned from the devastation, eyes flickering across the once pristine city, a scowl etched on his features. 

An orc war-band was breaking ranks not far from him, eyes shining in the darkness of night as they crashed against a humble house with boards over the windows.

“Someone, get those soldiers under control!” He roared, levelling his blade at the orcish fighters.

He could see a Commander and their retinue rushing to the Orcs side, but his ears could already hear chaos spreading on streets unseen. Fires springing up where there should be none, following in the wake of ‘his’ orcish Legions.

Iixit shuffled to the front, nursing a bandaged claw, and rasping, “We are wasting time, the battle is chaos, and we must secure the Violet Citadel.”

“Quetz’Lith and her dragoons have it surrounded and bombarded with fire,” Malakk hissed, “We have time to do this right!”

As he said that a hooting cheer of “Lok’Tar Ogar!” boomed in time with the sound of human shouts. Clearly, they had broken a stalemate and with nary a glance Malakk could see a wave of warriors swarming like water through a funnel down the streets, discipline and order fading fast.

“Frost King Malakk, humans are gathering behind the towers base, they are bracing for a fight!” Someone shouted.

Biting back a curse, he hissed, “Seer Ixit, Commanders of Zul’Drak, take your war bands, secure the tower and these surroundings streets, raise barricades and hold your positions! Bith’sa, Kutube'sa and Third Gundraki Legion, you are with me!”

“As you command, Frost King Malakk!”

He did not wait for his orders to be answered, taking off with his twin guards and a Legion of warriors and elite casters following in his wake. Malakk was too large to move through the alleyways and was forces to climb over walls and race across rooftops to where the newest center of battle was inflamed.

Bursting onto the city streets, Malakk was greeted to the sight of broken fences and windows, torn up gardens and the sound of screaming.

“Fan out, line the streets if you have to!” He barked, leaping for the closest orcs without a pause for breath.

An orcs fist had rammed through a window as he wildly thrust his spear into a house.

Grabbing the small fighter, Malakk yanked them back and easily caught the spear the warrior tried to lance him with. Snarling they dropped the weapon and made to strike him.

Malakk grasped his shoulder-guards and tossed him into his stunned kin as his guards pushed them back onto the streets.

The sound of splintering wood hit his ears, and Malakk seethed as the door broke in a wail filled the air, drowned out quickly by the Orcs roaring laughter.

It was only a step away, but a step too long in Malakk’s mind.

He reached the door and knelt down to bear witness as a mage in simple robes cradling a child, their magic breaking and blood running down their side as the Orc drew back his axe.

Malakk reached into the house grasped the orc around his waste, tearing the orcs from the house and tossed him to the street.

“Why!?” They wailed, snarling they flung themselves to their feet, “Brought us here to fight!”

“I brought you here to fight warriors and mages, not houses and civilians, get back in line and-”

A stream of light rained down and struck the streets, ripping through a group of soldiers in a flash.

“And attack the people shooting at us, NOW!”

Nodding numbly, the Orc staggered back towards the line, before getting swept up in the tide and carried deeper into the city.

“Bith’Sa, heal them and seal the door with ice,” he ordered.

A chorus of draconic shrieks filled the air, and Malakk’s gaze snapped to the Violet Citadel. Once resplendent and elegant, the tower now cast a baleful, rippling shadow across Dalaran, for it was in flames.

‘I can only hope this ends soon, and that the others are faring more nobly than I,’ Malakk thought, rejoining the battle line.