Prologue
"Gather children, for there is a very important tale which I must impart upon you. It involves some of the mightiest heroes the Horde has, and ever will have. Here in the Caverns of Time, we dragons, of the Bronze Dragonflight, are tasked with the purpose of both chronicling and preventing those with ulterior motives from altering the flow. Imagine, if you will, a power-hungry individual goes back in time to make sure that his rivals are killed before they even pose a threat to him. You could not possibly comprehend the infinite number of paradoxes that this would create. It would jeopardize, if not destroy the timeline itself." The small gnome imparted upon the children sitting on the sands of the cavern in front of her.
To the individual not familiar with the cavern, they would take her for what they saw, but to those of them who knew of the Bronze, they would know that the Gnome disguise was but an illusion hiding the large Dragon that was the real Chromie, or Chronormu.
"Although there is more than one hero that contributes to this story--though you could call the trees and air itself the heroes of the story--but this particular story focuses on the acts of a Warlock. Although his heart was, and is tainted by the magicks of the void, it is through his efforts that Azeroth has, and will have prevailed against that which constantly threaten it. He has and will prevail against those who hunt him. I have had, and will have the privilege of assisting him on the journey, and he has and will returned the favor many times over. Peer into the portal to see and hear his story."
A portal opened up in front of the young children. Though they would not understand much of the story, the images would be with them for the rest of their lives.
"It is ironic that a tale must begin at the end, yet this is where this story must begin."
The portal changed from the swirling vortex that it had assumed to the image of a human in his late twenties. The image kept flickering between the image, but with decaying flesh and hollows where the human's eyes were.
"This young human's name has been lost through the time-stream. As you will learn, though mortals may assign multiple names to one being, Time only cares about the name which you will finally be laid to rest with."
"Now, you may not understand the strain the denizens of this timeline will be, and were under. There was a terrible plague, which affected all the races on Azeroth. It not only hastened the death of the infected, but once they died, they were resurrected them in mindless undeath. It came to pass that they would be called the Scourge, as they blighted the very ground itself with their presence. They were controlled by the terrible force known as the Lich King. He grew so much in power that his will alone could influence those not suffering from undeath. Fortunately from the world, this terrible force unintentionally created his own downfall; the Forsaken.
During his invasion of the Sunwell, Arthas Menethil, who will become, and has become, the Lich King, cut down one of the Blood Elves' greatest archers, Sylvannis Windrunner. She was resurrected as a Banshee. Somehow, her will was so strong, even in undeath, that she broke free of Arthas's control, and rebelled against the Lich King. Others who broke free of the Lich King's will rallied under her banner. Due to their state of undeath, they were outcast, and even hunted by their former families and friends. It is important to understand that although the Forsaken was devoted to destroying the Lich King, others among them used the faction for their ulterior motives."
"Now that you know of this event, the story can begin. One day on Azeroth..."
Chapter 1
He was just one step away from attaining a higher power. The mages of the Kirin'tor would no longer be able to ignore his theories. His power would be much greater than that of the three schools which they preached, for he had tapped the power of the Void. It was a forbidden practice due to the corruption it caused in the individual. He scoffed that idea. Many old warnings were placed so that the weaker of wills would obey them like the flock of sheep that they were, and not bow to the evil magicks that the void exposed the invoker to.
But he didn't plan on being bent to any will, quite the opposite in fact. He not only understood the risk involved, but relished it. He knew that sacrifice was necessary in order to gain anything.
His first rite of initiation was to summon his first familiar. As much as he wanted to summon the most powerful demon he could find, even he understood that, as a fresh practitioner to this field, he needed one he could easily subject to his will; this was but a stepping stone to attaining the higher power that he required.
He would summon an imp. In the grimoire he had acquired, the description of the imp had made it sound very weak. It described it as a trickster type of demon, which had little physical power, but it had great power when it came to casting spells. The majority of the time the imp preferred to stay hidden, but when forced by its master, it can provide a powerful ally. Do not underestimate its power by its size.
He knew better to judge demons based on their size. Especially if it were described as a "trickster."
The summoning circle was complete. Being such an inferior demon amongst the Legion, he did not need to lure it to Azeroth with anything but a warm campfire. The summoning circle served three purposes. First, it protected him from harm, in case he got something other than what he summoned. Second, it increased the pull that the demon felt from the fire, much like a moth to the flame. Last but not least, it bound the demon to his will temporarily. He would need a blood pact with the demon to make that demon his. He had read that sometimes it would take a struggle, but with lesser demons it was as simple as coercing them.
He didn't have to wait long before the imp bounded through the fire. He noticed that it was only as tall as his knee, and had large horns that extended from its forehead, as well as a long jutting nose. It carried a green cloud with its form, which was unrelated to its entrance through the flames.
As it emerged, he stepped into the room. With the noise of his footsteps, it realized it had sprung the trap, "Oh shit, I knew this campfire was too good to be true!" It squealed in a high-pitched voice. Before it could escape through the campfire, he extinguished it with a flick of his wrist. It started frantically trying to claw its way out of the Circle, with little success.
"Relax imp, I would not have gone through so much trouble to summon you if I wanted to kill you. I'd like to propose a...bargain with you." He let an evil grin pass on his lips.
"Excuse me? Imp? Who do you think you are bub? You can't just go around calling people by what race they are, that's racist! The name's Ruptai, and why would I want to make a bargain with you? You trapped me in here!" Ruptai's shrill voice screamed at him.
"Well, I have...as they say, an offer you can't refuse. Either make a blood pact with me, or I kill you. Either you cooperate, or I crush you under the boot of my heel without a second thought and continue entrapping other foolish demons in my circle until I either have a pile of crushed skulls, or a familiar." The imp glanced around nervously, as if trying to find an escape route, "You drive a hard bargain mister...just don't hurt me, ok?" The imp seemed to calm down just a little, but still looked as if it were ready to be force-fed molten lead at any moment.
He brought his ritual knife close to the circle. The imp backed up at the sight of it, still not believing that he was going to hold to his word. He removed the glove on his left hand and made a thin slice down the center of his palm, then threw the knife away from him. The imp, finally understanding what he was doing, pierced its own palm with its horn. They both pressed their palms together, the Imp's palm fitting neatly within his palm.
He felt a surge of power, of pulsating wills. He felt Ruptai pushing against his mental barriers, trying to find a spot that could be entered and subjugated. Unfortunately for Ruptai, he had been ready, and pushed back with a force a hundred times that of the Imp's. He felt the imp's will concede the victory.
He had successfully enslaved his first demonic familiar.
He heard a voice behind him clear its throat.
His blood froze. Someone had caught him as a practicing Warlock. "Ruptai, you're dismissed, I'll call on you again later." He watched as the Imp reignited the fire in the center of the circle and leapt through it.
He stood up from his kneeling position in front of the circle and slowly turned around. The town Paladin was standing in the doorway, hammer drawn. He knew that he wasn't corrupted enough by the Void to be much worse affected by the Light than any human that faced its wrath. He was confident in his ability in the mage schools of Arcane, Frost, and Fire to dispatch this Paladin. He decided that after he was finished with the Paladin, he would escape town in search of the group of Warlocks that was rumored to exist in the hills.
"Warlock...surrender now and your infraction against the light will be punished quick and painlessly!" The Paladin intoned. He had the voice of a minister, and his words alone drummed into the back of his skull.
"I wasn't planning on making a sacrifice today...but it looks like the Light has provided me with a volunteer. However can I refuse?" He invoked the power of fire, and threw it towards the Paladin. The Paladin used his shield to block the ball of fire, and pointed his hammer at him in retaliation.
"Silly creature, I don't feel your light. I have transcended the weakness that is the Light, in favor of more powerful allies!" He mocked the paladin as he brought down a cloud of hail above the paladin.
"Oy mate, but you're gonna' feel this!" He heard a voice above him say. After that, his view was consumed by darkness and pain.
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"And with this, he was put to death by hanging. First though, they burned his eyes out with hot coal, and hung him. His neck was snapped, and he was buried within the graveyard of a town that later would be known as Death Knell; a place which would become overrun by the plague. It is there that he acquired the name Xenodyne, which he would use until his Undeath was ended."
"Children, it is this point in the story that he was rising to power. He coerced several more demons in this period:
Bronneri, a succubus with a figure that had lured many men to their premature deaths in their own homes.
Sloogrym, the eyeless felhound whose mouth covered over 1/3 of it body, which could devour any magic that made the mistake of coming too close to it.
Zhar'thak, the blue Voidwalker, who on many occasions helped defend Xenodyne against enemies that he could not match on the physical scale.
Finally, he tamed a fierce demon of the Burning Legion, Felguard by race, Shaathun by name. This demon frequently lost control of his judgement in favor of slaughter, which suited Xenodyne perfectly. When not consumed by his thirst for blood, Shaathun was a terrifying tactician of the Legion. He wielded a double-edged axe--that would normally be difficult for the strongest warrior using two arms to swing--with only one arm."
"But one of his strongest allies was surprisingly not one which he enslaved. In fact, he made this ally shortly after his Undeath. It was a troll mage by the name of Jervan."
Chapter 2
He couldn't believe that he had been so stupid. He had been huddled around a campfire trying to dispel the chill. Unfortunately for him, the chill couldn't be expelled, even when he tried to ignite his dead flesh.
He could not feel heat in his broken body, which was just one of the disturbing side effects of his rebirth. He also couldn't remember much from his previous life, such as his home, or his real name. He had taken the name from a tombstone nearby when he had risen from the mausoleum. "Xenodyne" was an odd name, but he felt it oddly fit his new form. His flesh had decayed in death. The maggots had eaten away the flesh covering his elbows, so the bone was exposed. Most of his body showed signs of decaying. Although his eyes had been burned out at the end of his life, he could somehow still see through the hollows that were his eye sockets.
He had been buried in the covering that his dirty robe had provided. When he awoke in Undeath, he awoke to find his robe full of holes -- most likely made by moths and other cloth-devouring insects. For some reason, he didn't care much about it. After all, he was dead, and there was little he could do to fight the chill that he felt throughout his body.
His capture had been more like an ambush. A group of humans had seen the smoke, and had decided to investigate. When they discovered that it was an undead that they faced, one of them instantly charged him and tried to impale him with a sword. Well, succeeded in impaling, but it didn't have much effect on his corpse, seeing as he was already dead.
"That didn't really hurt, you know..." he had chided the man who had attacked him. They looked bewildered that he had spoken words instead of what he now knew to be the 'common' gargle that most undead could only speak in. Before he had time to react beyond his initial response, they had tied him up and taken him back to the camp, and threw him into a jail cell. They had tied his hands behind his back, which meant that he couldn't cast anything without risking blowing himself to pieces.
Within the first few minutes of his captivity he noticed a troll in the corner of the cell, looking at the trees outside of the human camp.
He decided to make conversation, "Hey, how'd they get you?" He didn't expect the troll to respond, but to his surprise, he was a little startled by Xenodyne's speech. "Huh? An Undead dat can speak wurds? Ahh, you must be one ah Sylvannis's boys, da Forsaeken. Ya ask how I be gettin into dis jail here? Da humans outside not be takin too kindly to da Horde creepin around dair camp. Dat and I stole deir treashaa and deir Cap'n's rubba duckey. So 'mon, how you be gettin captchaad?" the troll's accent was thick, but Xenodyne guessed that all trolls must have accents like this. After all, when he had been a part of the Alliance, trolls were to be killed on sight.
So he told the troll his story, omitting that he was a warlock, only relating that he had been killed by the Alliance, and reborn as a Forsaken. At the completion of his story, the troll responded, "Don't be dinkin I judge ya any diff'rent fer ya magic, Warlock. I be a mage, and ya remember how it be to feel da magic of da beings around ya. I ain't afraid because I been raised 'round da magic ya wieldin'. Da witch doctas be usin dat magic every day fer da weel of da gods. Now, how bout we break outta dis jail and torch da camp? Den we can have a good feast wit' da remains of our captors. Da name be Jervan by da way." With that the ropes that were binding Jervan's hands turned to dust, as did the ropes around Xenodyne's wrist. Hands free, Xenodyne went about throwing curses on the guards. They wouldn't feel the pain until it was too late.
Jervan proceeded to melt the bars, which was when the guards finally noticed the activity in the jail. They drew their swords, and Xenodyne sent a bolt of shadowy magic at them. When it touched them, they writhed in pain on the ground. His curse slowly ate away at their intestines until they were dead, mouth foaming with blood.
Wasting no time, Jervan and Xenodyne moved through the camp, the very image of Horde raiders. They razed the tents, and killed every human they saw on sight.
After the carnage was complete, Jervan used some of the cooking tools that had been brought by the humans. They had decided that Xenodyne would butcher the humans, and Jervan would prepare the stew. Xenodyne had a craving for some brain-food, so he asked Jervan if he knew how to prepare anything with brains. Jervan replied with a, "Ya mon, mah mudda teach me how to be makin da best brain an' hart gumbo dis side ah Azeroth! Bring meh sum brain an sum hart an ya in fer a feest!"
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"And so a friendship was forged that day. They would cross paths many more times in the future, most of the time with the same motive."
"Now we must go later in the timeline, after Xenodyne has risen to power. He journeyed to the Outlands, and in a group effort of both the Horde and the Alliance, destroyed the Naga Lady Vashj, the former Blood Elf leader Kael'thas Sunstrider, and finally, the evil Illidan the Betrayer. It is when he returned to Orgrimmar that he learned of the events that had taken place on Azeroth during the Horde's occupation in the Outlands."
Chapter 3
As Xenodyne emerged from the portal from Shattrath to Orgrimmar, he noticed that a Kor'kron Emissary was waiting for him, "Xenodyne, the Warchief requests your presence at the Orgrimmar Arena immediately. I am to escort you there." Xenodyne wondered why one of Thrall's elite guards would be dispatched to let him know that Thrall needed to see him. He decided that it must be as urgent as the emissary was stressing.
As they made their way toward the arena, Xenodyne asked for the state of Azeroth while they had been fighting Illidan. Apparently Kil'jaeden (the mere mention of the demon's name made Xenodyne's heart stop beating for a few moments) had hatched a plot with Kael'thas that involved using the energies of the Sunwell to bring Kil'jaeden to Azeroth. Thanks to some help from the Blue Dragonflight and the Naaru, a band of heroes had been able to deny Kil'jaeden the right, and had caused a magical backlash to Kil'jaeden which would surely leave him reeling in pain for a few centuries. The emissary also reported an increase in Scourge activity, including a plague which had been unleashed and already claimed a few of the horde denizens. Luckily an antidote had been found before too many people had become infected.
They arrived at the Orgrimmar Arena, where he could tell there was serious discussion going on between Thrall, Sylvannis, Saurfang, and to Xenodyne's surprise, Garrosh Hellscream. He had helped Garrosh out of his indecisive state back in Outland, in Garrosh's home fields of Nagrand. Lurking in one of the corners was a new figure which Xenodyne was not familiar with, who was covered in a green and purple robe, with a hood covering most of his head, including most of his face. What wasn't covered by hood was covered by two leather scraps stitched together to allow clear speach and unobscured sight. Xenodyne didn't know who he was, but his instinct was that something was...off with this individual. He knew him to be of the Apothecary Society, due to his belt brooch, but he had never seen him around the Undercity.
As he approached, Thrall spotted him and briefed him on the situation.
"It was only a matter of time before we would have to deal with the Lich King. He represents a threat to all Azeroth, not just the humans. But the decision to go to war must not be made lightly. We would be fools to rush into Northrend...If only Garrosh understood..." Xenodyne turned to Garrosh. If the Warchief did not want to rush into Northrend, how could he try to tell the Warchief that his decision was wrong?
"My arms grow restless Xenodyne, anxiously waiting to drive my axes into the skill of the Lich King. Thrall would have us wait and let the Scourge continue to grow in strength. If we are to end the threat to the Lich King, we must sail to Northrend and give him the true might of the Horde! The time to strike is now!" Xenodyne knew he couldn't possibly mediate this. This was an argument between Orcs. Although he had helped the Warchief on multiple occasions, he reminded himself he was still an outsider in this type of situation. He turned to Saurfang to see his opinion on this. After all, Saurfang was considered the greatest Warrior the Horde had, and he was one of Thrall's closest friends and advisors.
"I understand Garrosh's desires. The urge for battle is strong with every orc. But the Warchief has proven time and again that a strategy is as imperative as strength in battle. We will set out when the time is right. We are no longer a band of mindless, demon-manipulated savages. This is the new Horde. Though he's become a little hot-headed, I trust that Garrosh won't violate the honor of his father." After Saurfang finished his words, Garrosh spoke directly to Thrall, and his speech made Xenodyne's jaw drop onto the floor. He didn't have time to look to Sylvannis for guidance in the matter.
"Thrall...Warchief...your armies are at your command. Let me lead them to Northrend to remove this undead menace!" Sylvannis then chimed in with her sad and melodic voice, "Yes Thrall. The time has come to kill Arthas. You can take my grand apothecary Putress with you. His knowledge will be invaluable against whatever the scourge will throw at you." The 'grand apothecary' Putress chimed in his agreeance, chiming in that it would be his honor.
Thrall turned to Saurfang, "What say you, Saurfang?" Thrall had to view every possible angle of this argument. He wasn't about to commit his people--nay, the peoples of the Horde-- to a losing battle.
"Warchief, it is clear that Northrend represents the greatest threat to our people, and that we must act against it. But this is a foe unlike any other. Caution is advised." Thrall considered his words for a few moments, then spoke again, "My soul burns for revenge, but the elements tell me to think clearly. The Lich King is a ruthless opponent...one who must be handled carefully. We will send scouts to assess the situation. I will also convene with the Lady Proudmoore and see what plans the Alliance has."
Garrosh all but interrupted Thrall's proclamation, "Gragh! I cannot take this! While you talk and deliberate, our enemies grow stronger! Were it my choice, I would have put all our available forces into that frozen rock and conquered it for the Horde!" Thrall chided Garrosh for this statement, "If this is a trap, it is not one I will blindly walk into! Do NOT make the same mistakes as your father, Garrosh!" Xenodyne noticed Garrosh shaking with a rage that he knew only an Orc could contain, with a hair trigger, "After all he did for YOU and YOUR people? MAK'GORA!" The guards surrounding the area gasped and turned to look at the event unfolding at the entrance to the arena. Thrall responded as if he had been expecting this, "You challenge me, boy? I don't have time for this..." But Garrosh had somehow formed a spine since Xenodyne had helped him realize his heritage and what it meant, "So you refuse? Is the son of Durotan a coward?" Xenodyne gasped with the rest of the crowd that was forming. Although Thrall was usually a peaceful Orc (if such a thing existed), insulting one's family was a death sentence, no matter whose son you were, "Inside!" Thall yelled as he charged into the Arena, Garrosh after him, taking the opposite side of the fork. Xenodyne had to watch this, for it would be the deciding factor of the future of the Horde.
They both leapt into the arena, and started at it. The fight was nothing but brutality. Xenodyne had heard that Thrall was a pit fighter before he escaped the enslavement at the hands of the humans, but judging by his usually peaceful and welcoming nature it was a little hard to believe.
They didn't use practice weapons, Thrall used both of his axes, and Garrosh used his two-handed axe. Thrall fought with the fury of the elements, and Garrosh with the true fury of an Orc. It seemed to Xenodyne that they would kill each other before one would gain the upper hand over the other. Thrall was using his mastery of the elements in his favor, healing his wounds and knocking Garrosh into the air with a flash of lightning and a flurry of wind, while Garrosh was fighting relentlessly for victory. Thall got knocked back and Garrosh looked like he finally had the upper hand, when suddenly, an alarm horn sounded in the distance. "WAIT!!!!" Thrall yelled at Garrosh, and Garrosh stopped in his tracks immediately. Suddenly, a raspy voice echoed throughout Orgrimmar, "HEAR ME, PUPS OF ORGRIMMAR! BRASH UPSTARTS OF THE HORDE! TREMBLE, AND KNOW YOUR DOOM, FOR THE GAZE OF THE LICH KING IS UPON YOU!" Saurfang immediately ran to the edge of the arena, "Warchief! Scourge forces are attacking Orgrimmar!" Thrall quickly shouted over his shoulder as he emerged from the arena, "We will finish this later, son of Grom." The crowd that had been gathering to watch the fight followed Thrall to the outside of the arena. When Xenodyne saw Frost Wyrms, dragons that had been reanimated by the Lich King, littering the sky, his heart missed a few beats. There were more than a dozen. Not only that, but there were Abominations and Ghouls flooding the street.
It was time to start on the defensive of the capital city of the Horde. He saw Sylvannis drawing her bow. She fired a volley of arrows into a single Frost Wyrms, which seemed to dislodge one of its wings. It spiraled toward the ground, where the Orgrimmar Guard instantly tore it to peices. This was the worst time they could have chosen to attack, due to the fact that much of the Horde was still either cleaning up the war they had been in with Illidan, or the Siege on the Sunwell.
Luckily those who had done their part had returned to Orgrimmar in time. Though there had been casualties aplenty, they eventually emerged victorious from the skirmish on Orgrimmar.
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"And so the decision was made for the Horde that day. Young Garrosh was granted permission to lead the Horde army into the frozen wastes of Northrend, and all able-bodied Horde were sent North. As for Xenodyne, he stayed behind to give his report to Thrall, who subsequently sent him North as well. After he arrived, met the new people of the North. He became acquainted with the Taunka, the distant cousins of the Tauren, and with the Tuskarr, the walrus-like fishermen of the North. He assisted the Taunka in their times of peril, and eventually had the honor of swearing their entire race into the Horde. They would need as many allies as they could get for a march on Icecrown Citadel, where the Lich King lurked and plotted."
"And so Xenodyne received a letter from Saurfang, rushed to Dragonblight ahead of him by Saurfang. It detailed the advance on Northrend. It also mentioned that his son, Saurfang the Young, required his help at the Wrathgate north of the small battle camp the letter found him at. Saurfang also advised Xenodyne to burn the letter, as the General in charge of the base was prone to reading mail out loud, and he didn't want any traitorous ears to listen to the location of the Kor'kron vanguard. It was at the Wrathgate that Xenodyne would witness one of the most tragic scenes any mortal could witness, even for an Undead."
Chapter 4
Xenodyne despised Northrend thus far. His exposed flesh was showing signs of frostbite, though it would eventually thaw, it was a little hard to move his limbs. Luckily his Dreadsteed's mane was made of fire, which kept his bones from forming into stone. After he had received Saurfang's letter, he made haste to the "Wrathgate" as Saurfang had called it. Because he had named it directly, it must be an important landmark.
He urged his steed across the desolate snowy wastes. His horse could not tire, as it was a demon itself, but he did worry about the footing. He wasn't sure whether or not it could have its legs broken, which would severely hamper both his motion and his ability to stay mobile. His demons followed silently behind, his imp riding behind him, clutching to his robe. They had no trouble keeping up with the steed, despite the speed at which they were moving.
Just as he was getting bored, his Felguard alerted him to the fact that there was a human in the distance. He quickly slowed his steed and dismounted. Him and his group of demons silently trudged across the snow until they were close to him. They noticed that he was building a campfire in the mouth of a small cave. He decided to send his Succubus to go seduce him while he laid the groundwork for the human's demise.
As he watched the Succubus innocently approach the human -- who would be stupid to think she was anything other than a demon, wearing as little as she was in such a frigid place -- he started conjuring magic to siphon the life force from the human. He also cast his curses upon his opponent, which would start inflicting massive pain. Finally, he started siphoning his soul. As he watched the human from the distance, he noticed his hair turning from auburn to a shade of platinum. He noticed wrinkles getting deeper on the man's face. He could also see by the way the man was moving that he was having difficulty carrying the armor that was on his back.
Xenodyne, on the other hand, regenerated some of the flesh that had become frostbitten. He also regenerated a the flesh that was missing from his elbow. Though the effects would be temporary, it was very useful to appear just a little less grotesque.
When he was done with the human, all that was left was a pile of ashes contained in a pile of armor. He opened the pouch on his belt, and tossed the jewel containing the man's soul into the bag. It would be useful later for a ritual or two. The succubus returned to him, quite happy with the distraction she had provided, "Oooh, master, you're looking quite sexy! I may have to make an exception just for you!" She made a pose which exposed some cleavage. He reminded himself that she was a demon, and that she would drink his blood just as soon as any other demon would, at the first chance she got.
"Hush, I know what you're up to, and it doesn't work on me, remember?" She pouted at these words, and faked innocence, "You think little ole' me would do anything like that to youuuu? I'm ashamed that you think of me like that. I thought we'd have more of a...connection by now." She grinned, showing her set of teeth, including the pointed ones which she used to suck the blood of her victims.
Xenodyne remounted and made haste toward the Wrath Gate. He could see it from the distance, as it was supposedly the back door of the Icecrown Citadel: the large, imposing fortress that the Lich King's armies were stationed in.
As he got close, he felt the Chill of Undeath even more. It wasn't just the frost, it was that he was rapidly getting closer to the Lich King. He noticed the Kor'kron camp before he approached the mountain. He saw the guards at the gate, who merely checked to make sure that he could speak. They weren't worried about a single Undead in their midst, they seemed to have more pressing concerns. It appeared as though the hordes of Scourge were massing at the Wrathgate, and that it would not be easy to penetrate the lines, and breach the gate.
Xenodyne rode up next to Saurfang the Young. He turned to Xenodyne and then turned back to the view of the Gate.
"We have secured the help of the Red Dragonflight in assaulting the gate. Although they have the gate secured, we will crush them with the might of the Horde!" As he said this, Xenodyne noticed a sizeable army trickling forth from the Alliance encampment on the plateau opposite the Kor'kron Vanguard. Saurfang noticed this as well, "Xenodyne, can you take my post? It would seem that the time of the attack is at hand!" Without even waiting for confirmation, Saurfang charged off to the barracks, and the War Horn was blown, signaling the march of the forces, "Rise up, Sons of the Horde! Blood and Glory await us!" The Horde forces were mustered out on obsidian riding Wolves, the preferred mounts of the Horde. Xenodyne watched the din of the battle from his viewing post on the rise.
The moment that Saurfang entered the fray, the battle was over. He wielded his father's axe, the High Warlord's Cleaver. He watched as multiple enemies were felled by his axe in single swings. Quickly the scourge were cut down by the combined forces of the Horde and the Alliance. It was an awe-inspiring show of the might of both sides.
When the Wrathgate was cleared, Xenodyne watched Saurfang and a human Warrior approach the Wrathgate. He heard the human challange Arthas, "Arthas! The blood of your father, of your people, demands JUSTICE! Come forth, coward, and answer for your crimes!" Xenodyne felt an icy chill run down his spine.
The Wrathgate opened. It felt as if time itself slowed as it happened. The tundra was completely quiet. Not even the howling wind dared to echo the words that the human had just spoke. The repetitive clanking of the gate being opened echoed across the whole of Dragonblight.
The figure that emerged was a demon which haunted even Xenodyne's nightmares.
The Lich King. Although he had once been a human, the details of his armor were quite visible even from a distance. His pointed helmet, known as the Icecrown, his plate armor, and most of all, his runeblade, Frostmourne. It was said that when an enemy was even nicked by the blade, their soul was torn from their body. It was supposedly that very sword that drove Arthas to raise the Scourge army, and spread the plague.
His voice echoed, although to Xenodyne's knowledge, it didn't sound as if he was yelling, "You speak of justice? Of Cowardice? I will show you the Justice of the grave, and the true meaning of FEAR!" As Xenodyne watched Saurfang the Young charge toward Arthas, he already knew that his fate was sealed. He screamed "NOOOOOOO!!!!!" as he watched his ally get cleaved in half by Frostmourne. Not only did it pass through him, but it shattered his father's axe. He watched as Saurfang's soul drifted from the wound, an iridescent stream, and floated toward Frostmourne. The blade absorbed it as it had so many others.
Without warning, Xenodyne's field of view was interrupted with green barrels being catapulted onto the Wrathgate, amidst the Horde, the Alliance, and the Scourge forces. It seemed to kill anything it came into contact with. Xenodyne's view snapped up to the mountain range above the Horde encampment. He spotted the Apothecary Society, including Putress, and they were flying the banner of the Forsaken. Putress's laughing could be heard throughout the valley, amidst the barrels' impacts, "Did you think we had forgotten? Did you think we had forgiven? Behold now, the terrible vengeance, of the Forsaken! Death to the Scourge, and DEATH TO THE LIVING!!!" Xenodyne's blood suddenly felt warm.
His heart was racing. This was not what Sylvannis had intended. She had not meant to betray the Horde forces, nor to kill all the living. She had been fooled by them, and who would know how many others. Before he could react, a Red Dragonflight appeared before him, "Quick, you must climb on my back before you get afflicted by this plague! Alexstraza has ordered me to take you away from here until it clears!" Without even asking, it picked him and his demons up with its tail and tossed them on its back. It wisked them away from the Wrathgate, to the Wyrmrest temple. As he was flying away, he watched as members of the Red Dragonflight razed the battlements where the Apothecary Society had set up their siege weapons. As much as he wanted to go back and get revenge on the traitorous fools, he knew that he would perish if he took part in that battle.
It was after the smoke had cleared that the Red Drake had taken him back to the Wrathgate. It was there Alexstraza informed him that Arthas had been momentarily weakened by the plague. He could tell that she, the Aspect of Life, was stricken worse than he was over the deaths on this day. He had never seen a Dragon shed tears before, yet he could see the moisture running down from her eyes. She informed him that he should pick up the armor that Saurfang wore, and give it to his father, then report back to Thrall.
He gathered up his comrade's armor. Had he still tear ducts, he knew that this grim task would have blurred his vision terribly. Although he normally wasn't so attached, he now faced the task of presenting the armor to the dead son's father.
As he rode back to the Borean Tundra, he reflected on the misfortune that took place that day. Saurfang had been one of the strongest warriors the Horde had, and yet he had been stricken dead in a single blow. How could anyone stand against such a powerful force? How could any of them hope to win?
The news had not yet reached the fortress in the Borean Tundra. Saurfang did note yet know.
He removed his helmet, revealing his face for the first time in quite some time. He wanted to present his friend with his son's armor with complete ceremony.
He could not stand the good mood at the bar as he walked in, "Quiet, all of you, for a great hero has fallen today! How can you be celebrating when someone so loyal to the horde, and so great a warrior, was felled by the very monster we are here to fight?" The bar was quiet as he continued on to the center of the fortress. He had started the rumor, and now it was time he console his friend.
"Saurfang, my friend," he croaked. Although he was undead, he was having trouble finding the words to tell him the news.
"Today your son has fallen in honorable battle against the very enemy we have traveled here to fight" Saurfang's face was a mixture of horror, confusion, and anguish. "He was felled by the very blade of the Lich King, as is evident on the battle scar that his armor bears." He brought forward the armor that he had been carrying, with the large tear down the center. "He destroyed much of the Scourge Army before he was cut down. Unfortunately, your axe was shattered at the touch of Frostmourne. We will have revenge, my friend. Mark my words." Saurfang took a seat for a moment, glancing over the shred in the armor, tears glistening in his eyes. "Many soldiers fell today, though I am sad to report not at the hands of the enemy, but at the hands of the traitorous Apothecary Society of the Forsaken. I would have extracted their souls unto eternal angish had the Red Dragonflight not whisked me away so that I could live to deliver this news to you. And now I must go to Thrall, for Alexstraza directed me to first tell you, then report to him. I am sorry my friend." As he turned to head toward the Windrider roost, he shot Garrosh a look that could have chilled the Molten Core of Azeroth.
When he returned to Orgrimmar the entire city was on lockdown. It was unnerving, he had never seen absolutely no shops open, not even on holidays. He swiftly rode to Thrall's chambers to see why the city was locked down by the guards.
When he arrived, he was surprised to see Sylvannis in the room, as well as a portal to Stormwind. From the portal, Jaina Proudmoore emerged. She asked Thrall why the King of Stormwind was ready to go to war, and Sylvannis explained about the treachery from within the city, and how Varimarthas was behind it. Xenodyne had always been suspicious of the Dreadlord. After all, they were Kil'jaeden's personal advisors. They tended to manipulate anything they could in order to fulfill the end to their means.
Once Jaina disappeared back within the portal, and it closed, Thrall informed Xenodyne of the assault. He informed him that all the forces Xenodyne could muster would be needed to Assault the Undercity. He beckoned to a portal that one of his mages had opened up, and told him to join in the fight, and that he and Sylvannis would be fighting by his side, "For Saurfang's sake."
As he emerged through the portal, he noticed all of the siege weaponry that was in the courtyard of the Undercity. This was an all out war.
He walked into the halls that he had walked through early in his Undeath. They hadn't changed much, but one could tell that there had been recent bloodshed on these steps. Before he knew what was happening, his Voidwalker absorbed the sword of a Doomguard that had snuck up on them. His minions quickly dispatched the weak demon.
As he approached the elevator, he noticed that it was no longer an elevator, but a pit with spikes at the bottom. Although he was all for the Iron Maiden feel of the elevator, he needed a way down. Suddenly, Thrall jumped down the pit, and cast a spell of air to slow the fall. It acted as a platform, and didn't allow Thrall to even get close to the spikes. Sylvannis was the next one through. So he didn't get left behind, he jumped through. It was as though the air was trying to not allow him passage through the Elevator Shaft.
He emerged into the Trade Center of the Undercity. The bank was empty, the Mailbox had been smashed to pieces, and the moat that usually contained green liquid now contained an angry scarlet fluid that he was not in a hurry to swim in.
Xenodyne knew where Varimarthas was holing himself up in. It had to be the Royal Quarter, where he and Sylvannis had been leading the Forsaken for the last few years. He quickly joined Thrall and Jaina in dispatching some minor Legion minions, and noticed that the demons were getting stronger the closer they got to the Royal Quarter. Suddenly, a Doom Lord appeared, twice the height of Thrall, and started attacking Thrall. Each time the Doom Lord would get close to piercing Thrall with its blade, Xenodyne's Voidwalker would absorb the blow. Eventually, they beheaded the demon, making sure to burn the corpse and the body.
They quickly moved into the Royal Quarter, after finishing off some sentries. He noticed Varimarthas channeling half a dozen Summoning portals, "You fools cannot stop me! My master will be very pleased! He is coming here now to crush you all! Your resistance is futile!" As he shouted these words, waves of demons approached the group. Varimarthas would have to be crushed fast. If he were allowed to channel his portals long enough, they would be dealing with Kil'jaeden. Even in his weakened state, he would be able to crush the group without a second though.
Xenodyne decided it was time to try a little bit of experimental Demonic Magic. He had witnessed one of Lady Vashj's minions turn himself from a Humanoid into a demon, at least temporarily, and Illidan had done so once he saw that his chances of winning were almost nothing. Xenodyne had been studying the trick, and was sure that he had figured out the way it had been preformed.
He drew upon all the shards he had collected recently. He would need a lot of power for this, "Thrall, Lady Sylvannis, protect me while I perform this ritual! If we are going to succeed here, it's the only way!" They agreed, and he laid the groundwork for the ritual. His demons knowingly gave him space, and took their places at the North, South, East, and West directions from his portal. His Imp took place at the center of his circle, being the first familiar he had summoned.
He called upon the many souls that he had in his possession to grant him the power to overcome this Dreadlord. He offered his body as the portal which the energies could flow. With the amount of demonic energy in the room, he felt the power of the spell increase. He channeled it into his shards, and from the shards, into himself. He kept the image of the demon that Illidan morphed into firmly fixed within his mind. He willed growth, in both height, muscle, ability, power, and might. He channeled the sorrow at losing his comrade into the spell, which increased the potency of the spell. Finally, he channeled the rage at having been used by Varimarthas by so long. He bent over in pain, and then he arched his back as if he had been stricken. His body suddenly thrust upward, his arms grew in length and in muscle, and his forehead grew horns. He felt his decayed flesh get replaced by skin the consistency of Demonic Armor, giant leathery wings sprouted from his back, much like the ones his Succubus had, except that they were a much wider wingspan than her non-functional wings. He felt his shadow powers grow. He knew how to destroy the portals.
With the shadowed energy he now wielded, he reached forward toward the portal. Instead of shutting it, he redirected the energy back within it, which created a vortex, making the hole absorb itself and implode. One by one , he started closing the portals, until all that was left was one. With the last one, he redirected the energy into hinself, and hurled himself through the air at Varimarthas. The Dreadlord would be a difficult adversary, but he tapped into the very fabric of the portal to fuel his power. Back and forth the blows rained down. Both wielded shadow energy, but only one wielded courage, not fear. Vengeance, but not subservience. Strength, but not manipulation. Although he had never pictured himself as being one with the Light, he now knew how the Paladins felt when they were on their crusades.
He overcame Varimarthas and knocked him down. He abruptly closed the portal. Suddenly, his power started draining, and his demonic form got weaker, until he was back to his decaying form again.
Varimarthas laughed at him, "Hah, to think I was actually worried! You can't defeat me! You may have weakened me, but you think that you can kill a DREADLORD? Preposterous!"
"He may not be able to," Sylvannis started, "But we can!" his demons finished. He would assist if he had any power left within him, but he was completely drained. He watched as Thrall used the power of the elements and all but destroyed Varimarthas, while Sylvannis made a pincushion out of him with arrows. His demons each took turns kicking him, and his Felguard kept chopping off more of Varimarthas's armor, and eventually, bones.
But it wasn't over yet. Before they could celebrate their bittersweet victory, King Varian Wrynn marched in with his group of Alliance soldiers. He proclaimed war on the Horde, and the battle ensued. Thrall and Sylvannis renewed their battle effort. It looked as if they might actually overcome the large numbers that were against them, until Jaina teleported into the room, "NO, STOP!" She froze everyone in place, "It did not have to be like this..." she said quietly as she teleported all of the alliance units from the room.
Thrall sat on one of the steps of the Royal Quarter and contemplated the renewed conflict between the Horde and the Alliance, "It ends like it began...All that we have fought for in this world is lost. The hopes and dreams carried by my father and mother...by Doomhammer...Gone...If only you were here right now, old friend. You would know what to do."
High Overlord Saurfang emerged from the corridor leading to the Royal Quarter. Although he was still visibly distraught by his son's death, he knew that he was needed by Thrall, "I know what he would do. He would say to you what I am about to say to you: Thrall. Lead your people. Let's go home, old friend." Thrall nodded, and said to Saurfang, "It is good to have you back, Varok, old friend. I'm sorry about your boy."
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"And so the tragic tale ends. Xenodyne's tale is far from over. He still has, and will have much work to do, if he really does take the true path that the timeline foreshadows. Yet there are many choices to be made, and there are already many choices that have been made. Even the Bronze Dragonflight don't know with complete certainty the path that this hero's timeline will take. Only Time will tell..."
-End-
