Paths of the Dead(Warcraft SI) (Patreon)

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Albrecht(1)

I was brought to my knees. 

My eyes were affixed firmly to the earth, grey and dark from rot. Strong hands held me down, stinking of undeath and unholy energies. While I as a Paladin was immune from disease, I was still Human and therefore with human senses. I smelt the lingering and noxious fumes of corpses now walking, the poisonous gas of abominations that stood in twisted and hulking frames. Above, gargoyles and other inhuman creatures of the night flew high, screeching and cackling. The shadow of the Keep I defended loomed over me, pillars of smoke and rising from the village outside, the screams of the dying mixing with the howling of the dead. 

Heavy bootsteps thumped and echoed its way to me. The closer it got, the more the pit in my stomach formed. I hissed as my hair was pulled back, and I locked eyes with a fallen Prince and Traitor. 

"Prince Arthas," I greeted him, iron control trying to keep my voice level. "I must congratulate you in speed-running the demise of your father's Kingdom. Decades, he fought for this nation. And you ruined it in a few weeks." 

Arthas only sneered. "Spare me the pleasantries and the insults, Albrecht. I have heard far too many from our former brothers." 

I only spat at him. 

The fallen Prince sidestepped it and the spit landed on a all too familiar corpse. My eyes widened as I saw the ruined Silver Hand crests on their armor. 

"You fucking beast!" I snarled. Arthas simply cocked his head. "I am your Prince, Albrecht, and the Silver Hand serve the Kingdom. It is only right of me to call them to my service...and you." 

"I swear, on the Light, that I will end you," I vowed. Frostmourne was raised as Arthas came close. 

"You and so many others," said Arthas, his shadow looming over him. He stopped when he saw the grin on my face. 

"But I am the first on to succeed," I laughed. Arthas looked at me, dumbfounded. "What trickery are you planning!?" He demanded me, taking me by my hair. I looked up at him, speaking with chilling sanguine clarity. 

"Boom," I said simply. His eyes widened as he realized what I meant. He moved to leave but then, the ground shook as a week's long stockpile of gunpowder was set off at one. Scarlet flame flooded my vision as the ground shook. Earth and Stone became towers as high as the sky. Arthas disappeared from view, and so were the remains of my comrades. I sailed high, landing on back. 

My flesh burned, my body was broken. The Light and sheer stubbornness being the only thing that kept me alive. My senses could perceive things, the screaming of the dying still carried itself in the air. As well as the trudging of metal boots. 

"Did you think that was enough to kill me?" came the all too familiar voice of Arthas. I could not see him, but I figured that he looked like a brisket. He certainly sounded burnt. I did not resist, could not resist, as he pulled me up and stared me down. "Far better men than you have tried!" He continued with a snarl, Frostmourne placed directly against my stomach. 

I warned him of his folly. I begged him on my knees not to pursue that fucking Dreadlord. I really should have just crushed his blonde fucking face in and risked getting hunted by Lordaeron if it meant saving the Kingdom. 

I tried to say something but my throat and voice just refused. "Die," Arthas simply said. My eyes rolled to the back of my head as Frostmourne pierced me. 

It was then that what remained of conscious self vanished. Raised as a Death Knight, I served Arthas, all too unwillingly. In his name and of the Lich King, I performed all too many atrocities. I burnt villages down to the ground, I slaughtered innocent people to add into the Scourge's ranks. Far far too many crimes against Humanity, I racked up like a champion. It did not settle into my what I had done when my conscious self and free will returned ever so slowly. 

I was one of the first to reclaim my free will, alongside others. 

And the first thing I did was faux vomit into the ground. 

Who wouldn't? 

I felt warped, changed. I was dead yet I was alive. I 'felt' things but could not feel them. No wonder Sylvanas went mad. But still, I had control of my mind again. The Lich King wasn't whispering to me 24/7. But still, I continued to serve. I couldn't just get out so quickly and easily, not when I could go and make sure that when Sylvanas shot Arthas, she actually killed the fucker instead of poisoning him. 

Night had long since fallen and I went to find the Lady Windrunner. Even in undeath, Sylvanas was still beautiful. Though not in her original body, the former Ranger-General remained a strong personality still. 

"Lady Windrunner," I greeted her. Under her hood, piercing red eyes glowed balefully in the dark. She turned to me, her body showing off all the curves in the right places. I was surprised that I still had such thoughts and desires, considering the fact I should not even have the proper hormones to facilitate such a response. 

The conundrum of undeath. 

"Paladin Albrecht," she greeted back, her voice a pained whisper. There was a sort of camaraderie between us, considering the fact that we were both fucking undead and got fucked over by Arthas but we never really interacted much before, as she was off doing spooky things for Arthas and I wracked up a healthy list of war crimes. 

"Former Paladin, courtesy to our Lord and Master," I sighed, bitterness in my voice. She was quick to latch on to that, her lips curling in a frown. "So, let me cut through the bullshit. You don't hear his voice anymore, right?" 

An eerie presence made itself known as quite a few dozen banshees appeared out of nowhere. Former Farstriders, loyal to Sylvanas, glared daggers at my back. They stood down when their Ranger-General gave them a look. She turned back to me, her bow slung over her shoulder. 

"Yes, the Lich King no longer speaks to me," she nodded. "And it seems he no longer speaks to you." 

"He does not," I nodded. "And I know why," 

That earned a raised eyebrow from the Ranger-General. 

"And how could a Paladin of the Silver Hand know such a thing?" she asked, crossing her arms. I resisted the urge to look at her bountiful valleys, intent to look at her in the eyes. Her very red eyes. 

"It came to me in a dream," I said flatly. "In the Silver Hand, I was known as the Dreamer for a reason. I dreamt about the corruption of Arthas, the fall of the Kingdom...your downfall..." 

Sylvanas snarled at that. I held up a hand. "To my credit, I warned people, you know? I told Uther what was going to happen, I told anyone who would listen and had the authority to do it about the calamity that would befall us, and as you can see," I gestured to the rotten trees around, "No one listened." 

The Ranger-General brooded under her hood. My lips were thin. "I can tell you do not really believe me. So, here's the deal. You will get contacted by the Dreadlords who will offer you an explanation of why we are no longer hearing the Lich King. The reason why is because his powers and the powers of King Arthas is weakening. They will then invite you to a coup attempt over our Lord and Master, Arthas." 

Sylvanas stood there, quietly listening. "And your source for this knowledge is...your dreams?" 

"The source of my information is always truthful, unlike those Dreadlord bastards whose race is known for lying and deception as well as being puppets of the Burning Legion. I will not lie to you however, and my will remains my own. Go and get your invitation, I will wait for you here to return, Ranger-General." 

Not too long, Sylvanas got her invitation. I was seated on a crate, admiring my weapon when the troubled looking High Elf came up, conflict well on her face. "They invited me to a coup," she revealed quietly, not wanting for anyone else to hear about her treachery. 

"And you are going to accept, are you?" I asked, leaning back. 

"But on my terms," she insisted. "I will not be anyone's pawn ever again," I smiled. Oh poor Sylvanas, what you do not know of what Blizzard ha planned for you. Shaking my head, I stood up. "Good thing that we are in the same boat. You want to make Arthas suffer. I want to pulverize his blond face in, as I should have done way back. I want in, Ranger-General. And we are going to do it properly," 

"Properly?" Sylvanas asked with a raised eyebrow. 

I nodded. "Yes, an actual mission of nailing the bastard that ruined our lives. No poisoned arrow nonsense. If you are going to torture the fucker, make sure that he'll be whisked off and not be close in range to get rescued by his Lich lapdog or something." 

"How did you know?" Sylvanas demanded, walking forward. I tapped my helmet with a single gauntleted hand. "Dreamer, remember? I will wait for you to come back with your body which is in Deathholme, by the way. Guarded by that prick Dar'Khan who is also a massive fucking traitor and allowed for Arthas to slip past Quel'thalas's defence." 

If she wasn't already brooding, she became even more so. If there was anything that set Sylvanas off at this moment of time, it was the mentioning of her homeland or anything involved with it. At this stage, Sylvanas still hadn't become a fucking monster like how Blizzard wrote her to be...and she won't be with my watch. "I imagine you would like to recover that, and your bow?" 

She nodded. 

"Then go and do it. Dar'Khan getting brutally murdered would be a blessing as well," I paused to think for a moment. "Getting his head lopped off and kept as a bargaining chip would help you in the long run." 

"What for?" Sylvanas asked me, curious. I smiled. "It will be a surprise tool that will help us later. Now shoo and go do your Ranger work." 

Eventually, the time came for Arthas getting ambushed. It went as it did in Frozen Throne. Arthas escaped  and a bevy of Abominations greeted him as he came out of the gates. He snarled, seeing the lumbering mass of flesh leer at him. "We have no time for this! We must find our way out quickly!" He grasped Frostmourne, preparing to charge at the abominations. 

I and Sylvanas's banshees made ourselves known as we charged. Astride my horse, I rushed out of the nearby woods, my weapon flashing in the light, and against the burning city Arthas left. The nearest abomination I had leapt atop and dug my polearm deep into its head. The banshees did their work as well, some possessing an abomination, the others tearing apart the remaining ones. The abomination I had slain collapsed on the ground and I came to face my murderer and master. 

I pulled back my weapon and knelt before Arthas, showing deference. "My lord," I murmured. 

"Rise and lift your head, you earned it," Arthas commanded. I did so and our eyes met. "We have been betrayed by the dreadlords..." Arthas said darkly. 

"We have been, Great King. As soon as they turned, Lady Sylvanas and I prepared an escape route for you," I said as the banshees floated close to me. 

"Then we must move. I must get to Northrend immediately," Arthas said, his eyes all but telling me how weakened he was. I grunted and hefted my weapon against my shoulder. 

"This way, my lord," I said, motioning for Arthas to follow me. And so we marched, quietly following the original path. The traitor scourge came upon our way. Those we dealt with quickly. Time couldn't be wasted after all. Eventually, we came upon the clearing where it was to be Arthas's grave. 

"This is the place, brethren," one of the banshees announced, her voice eerie. She turned to Arthas. "We will rest here, Great King." 

Honestly, that should have been the sign to Arthas that he was about to get royally fucked. Undead do not rest. But he was too focused on his mission that he simply urged his horse forward and glared at the banshee. "Why here? We must get to Kel'Thuzad before we-argh!" He suddenly cried, grasping at his head. Not a second later, a familiar oozing arrow flew and struck Arthas at his neck. 

It was then I swiftly turned and beheaded Invincible in one fell swoop, the horse had its death throes and collapsed, throwing Arthas into the dirt. The banshees and the possessed abominations, they turned on the other undead with us, slaughtering necromancers and finally putting to rest other undead. In the soil, Arthas simply glared up at me, pushing Invincible off him. Hefting my glaive, I marched to the fallen Prince. From the shadows, Sylvanas walked forward with sashaying hips, her soul now returned to her original body. 

Normally, I would have sent her a appraising look but not this time. I wanted payback. 

"What...is...happening?" Arthas gasped. 

"Payback," I said simply. I looked up at Sylvanas. "Save the monologue for later. Let's take good Prince Arthas with us, yes?" 

"Traitors...what have you done to me?" the Prince croaked. I ignored him but Slvanas simply could not resist herself. Judging from the look on her face, she wanted nothing more but to gloat and lord over the fallen Prince. "it's a special poi-"

"Ranger-General," I interrupted her with her title, my tone all but urgent. "We need to move, now. Kel'Thuzad will be upon us any second!" 

Sylvanas craned her head to glare at me. "Do you have any idea what torment I have been through? What we have been through?"

This fuckin-"I know! But fucking time and place, Windrunner!" I snarled. I turned to the closest abomination. "Lift the fucker up. We are taking him with us," 

"Just...finish me," he hissed. Sylvanas turned from glaring at me to Arthas. As he was lifted up by the abomination, she sneered at him. "A quick death...like the one you gave us?" The undead elf shook her head, chuckling with dark promise. "No, you're going to suffer as we did. Thanks to my arrow, you can't even run." 

Some phantom blood vessel of mine erupted. "Windrunner, for the love of the Light, we need to get moving, the damn lich can strike at any fucking second! We-"

And sure enough, the Lich made himself known, with a blast of ice that utterly froze the abomination carrying Arthas who unceremoniously fell to the ground. "Back, you mindless ones! You shall not fall today, my king!" bellowed the Lich, rather impressive since he spoke in a calm chill voice. Unholy screeching came as undead under his control went forth, charging at our lines. 

FUCKING DAMN IT!

Death Knights are strong. Unnaturally so. With our powers and runed weapons, we could take plenty of hits before going down. But I was not going to fight fucking Kel'thuzad, not alone. Instead

"Undead! Attack! Buy us time!" I bellowed at our troops who mindlessly went on to face the horde. I went over to Arthas and have the fucker a good stabbing, for good measure. "For Lordaeron!" I hissed at him before tucking tail and running. 

Behind me, I could hear our undead dying, and Sylvanas yelling at Arthas that it would not be the last he would hear of her. I ignored that, intent on running and running until finally I came upon a ruined barn and took refuge there. As I sat with my back against the wall, I brooded. It was an activity I was becoming too familiar with and unfortunately for me, I could not help it. 

I felt empty, hollow. I was alive yet dead. Dead yet alive. The closest I could think of this was just...utter and severe depression numbing me yet I could still feel. I closed my eyes, to think. Yet nothing greeted me but darkness and the screaming of shades, the souls of the living I had slain in my service to Arthas. It was then, I felt a presence in the barn. 

Gripping my weapon, I stood up, ready to defend myself. It was then I felt how familiar the presence was and I immediately frowned. "Lady Windrunner," I greeted her, turning to look at the barn rafters and saw the Dark Ranger look down at me, red eyes staring down at me. She dropped down the floor in a mix of shadow and mist. I still looked at her, unimpressed. 

"We had a plan," I said flatly. "Bring the Prince somewhere else to torture to our hearts content. And you just could not resist yourself, did you?" 

Her hands tightened into fists. "I thought you of all people would understand, Albrecht. He ruined my life. He ruined my homeland. How could you not expect me to not get angry, seeing him?" 

I snarled. "Woman, you aren't the only one! Look at this damn barn! My people lived here too, and where are they now!? Fucking dead!" I took in a breath, once more forcing myself to calm down. "We had once chance," I said, trying to calm myself down. "Now, Arthas the traitor is off getting fellated by the Lich and would be well on his way to Northrend by now." 

I sighed, sitting done once again. Despite having no bodily functions left, I 'felt' tired. "From this, he is well on his way to become even more powerful. Prince Kael'thas is going to try and stop him, alongside the members of your more vengeful folk. He will fail, and fall into the path of insanity. Arthas will keep on winning and winning, and he will eventually unite himself with the Lich King, replacing him entirely." 

Standing, Sylvanas's face went through of a mixture of emotions. Surprised that Prince Kael'thas yet lived, and absolutely horrified at the prospect of Arthas becoming the Lich King. "...Where is Prince Kael'thas now?" 

Even after all this time, she was still an elf at heart. I could sympathize with that. "I might be mixing up my dreams but...at this point, he is most likely still here in Lordaeron, assisting what remains of the Alliance. If you wish to go and return to your people, I will cheer you on. But know that you will be judged for the actions you have committed while under the control of Arthas, however unwillingly." 

She hissed at that. "But...I was under the control of Arthas! I was...I was a slave...." she said quietly, mournfully. I looked at her with pity. 

"And so was I. It won't matter to some folks, but there will be people who will accept us, once we don't kill them and act like actual people." I pointed out, knowing how Calia Menethil accepted the sentient undead when she met Alonsus Faol. "As for me, I have to find Princess Calia. If the Alliance remnants must succeed, they must do so under an actual Princess, not under that prick Garithos." 

"So this is what you intend? Fight for a lost kingdom? And what about Arthas?" Sylvanas asked me. I stood up to my full height. "Arthas is off to Northrend and I cannot fight him alone. I will need allies, and the best place to look for that is with people like Tirion Fording, and so many others." That and so many other threats that were bound to show up. Tragedies to try and prevent. After all, what the fuck was I supposed to do? Stare at a wall and eat glue? I spared Sylvanas a glance. 

"You can come with me, you know." I offered to her. "You can choose to go back to Quel'thalas, eavesdrop on Lor'themar. You can also choose to find Prince Kael'thas. You can also choose to stay here in Lordaeron, contend with the Dreadlords who will try to rule this place as their fief. They will try and manipulate you though, because of course they would." 

Sylvanas stood silently. I gave her a look. "So...what will it be?" She looked up at me from her hood. "And if I choose to step away?" 

"Then I will give you my well-wishes and farewells," I told her bluntly. "I got shit I want to do, I have and must do. Restore this Kingdom, and once that is done, hunt Arthas down to the ground." 

For a moment, Sylvanas stood in silence. Then after a moments silence, she answered. "...I will come with you, though you must promise me that we will have Arthas's head on a spike." 

I smiled. "Scouts Honor, Ranger-General." 

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A/N: And so, here is the warcraft fic I promised. How do you fellas like it?

In here, this is already a massive timeline change. Now, why would Sylvanas accompany our wayward hero? At this point in time, Sylvanas is not yet the Dark Ranger Queen we know her to be. She is still the lost and troubled newly reborn undead still trying to figure herself out. And here comes our hero who seemingly looks like he knows what he is doing and offers her a plan and so far, has not lied to her. Sylvanas is also quite alone here, literally, and the other person who has treated her like a person and not an abomination is our boy. 

Time will tell how this will go.