War of the Greys: Lordaeron [Open RP]

[Darced]

Darced nodded to his servant, "We must hold off the traitors until the time is right." He turns towards the Banshee Queen and repels her and some of the Forsaken with a burst of energy. They are knocked back and the lich motions for his few remaining minions to rally. "I give you my remaining soldiers Ian, destroy the incoming catapults and hold off the Forsaken. I will deal with the Banshee Queen; be swift and true, for the Scourge rule today!"
Just then, rebel catapults mount on the hills above them and squadrons of elite Forsaken troopers guard them, awaiting the assault. "Hold your ground Forsaken! Fordring must be freed!" The plague barrels fly towards the void tank and Darced casts a barrier to block them, "Hurry my friends!"

Many of the crusaders had made their way back into the hold and Tyr's Hand was being filled to the brim. Argents began to fortify the fortress and line the walls awaiting the Scourge siege. "On the wall! Scourge approach!" Undead Nerubians swoop down onto the archers and thrust some of them into the courtyard. More Nerubians come from the ground and begin attacking the wounded.
"Lord Causis! We need help, Nerubians come from below!" Aldean and Causis turn as the crusader yells for help. Aldean returns his gaze to Causis, "I believe you, but I hope you're sure about staying father." The paladin nods, "Indeed, the crusade will fight on and I hope to see the end." The two Greys jump down into the courtyard and engage the undead Nerubians, "Protect the wounded! We are under attack!" The horns sound from within the cathedral signalling for everyone to get inside.

Darced turns toward the sound, "Well, the fortress will fall soon. What will you do now Banshee Queen?" Sylvanas stares at the lich, intent on putting an arrow between his eyes. "Improvise."

[Mengucekli]

Ralof gently pulled strings as glider landed on the courtyard of the ancient keep. "Tyr's Hand." he murmured, as he remembered his childhood memories of the tales his mother told him, about the mighty Tyr and how he sacrificed his arm to protect their world from evil. This place was where many people spilled their blood to stand againts evil, and everytime he went there he felt this strange feeling of compassion and respect. Maybe that feeling was what held him from turning his back.

He gathered his glider back into his backpack, meanwhile remembering what just transpired minutes ago. "I should not do that again, i almost got myself killed as a wyrm bait." he mumbled. He reloaded his guns and checked his equipment, everything seemed fine, he lacked some splinter shot cartridges but that was not a huge case after all, he would not be able to stop a flood of undead even with cases loaded of ammo, where he had only two pockets. He rose up and looked around, then he heard forsaken horns over the hill. It seemed like Sylvanas was assaulting the scourge with her forces. "About damned time someone took action againts those reckless maniacs. What do they think, after all, that they could destroy Horde and Alliance?" he thought, although he was not at ease because of his hatred towards the Dark Lady. He would much more like to have Alliance armies of Stormwind reinforcing them at that moment, but they were late as always. "Maybe they won't even bother coming." he told himself, giving in to bitterness yet again. "They will just abandon whole North to scourge or forsaken, like they did with Stromgarde." he murmured, and anger surged towards his mind. "Over our dead body! We will stop them here, like we did at Thoradin's Wall!" he shouted with courage. He was named after that wall (and the ancient king of Stromgarde) after all. His father hoped that he would someday be the living bodiment of that wall, because that wall symbolized the staunch determination of Sons of Arathor, and that they would fight any evil againts their people and their honor. Most of the people seemed to forget nowadays that selfless warriors of Stromgarde managed to prevent the first Scourge invasion of Lordaeron from spreading further south, by spending their lives and even their beloved kingdom. They held the scourge at bay over Thoradin's Wall, even in the worst days, even while the damned Lich King was still alive. But nobody cared that they sacrificed themselves over the well being of other allied nations like dwarves of Ironforge or human Kingdom of Stormwind. Theri sacrifice was simply forgotten.

"Time to remind those damned peskies that call themselves 'allies' that Sons of Arathor are still around to kick some butts! People will tell stories of today, the day that 'Mighty Alliance' did nothing and a mere Arathorian saved the north!" he cried, he was so full of emotion at that moment. He looked around and saw nerubians unbarrowing. He drawed his pistols and flipped them casually, then unfurled a barrage of deadly-piercing shots to send those overgrown spiders to whatever hell they came from. He saved a few archers from being torn apart in a split second, then started reloading his pistols as he saw Aldean and Causis charging in to confront the nerubians. He looked around and saw Oliver, weary of the concoctions he used recklessly on himself to fight off the scourge. Ralof made his way towards him and realised he looked different than before, his oversized parts were back to 'normal' again and he looked exhausted. "Hey you! Forsaken! You are an alchemist with the crusade right?" he asked while walking towards him, then he saw his herb pouch and commendation so he thought his guess was correct. "Are you suited to fight? Your people are fighting outside! And it may be our only chance to turn this over. Why don't you turn into a dragon or something? You alchemists do that right? If you can ride me over i can wreck hell of a carnage upon them!" he told the forsaken, but meanwhile he was sceptical about this idea, because it sounded even more foolish than his previous one. Trusting a frosaken? Ride upon scourge, through spell shooting gargoyles, death knights and abominations with meat hooks? It was just another suicidal attack that required incredible skills to have a chance at survival. He believed he had the skills to shoot the hell out of his opponents, but he was doubting this petty looking husk of a body would have the same. But he knew that if they would not help the forsaken charge outside, their chance of a victory would greatly diminish.

[Darced]

Darced tilts his head at the word, "Improvise." He continues his defense of Tirion Fordring's prison and blocks the incoming arrows from Sylvanas with relative ease. "These arrows are enchanted to slow time around them. While indeed clever Banshee Queen, it is not enough to save you." Sylvanas smirks at the concept, "That is not what I meant by the word." She extends her hand as if presenting someone from the forest behind her. Black armored knights appear from the woods and stand before the lich; their eyes cast an icy blue fire that licks their helmets. Darion Mograine appears from behind them, "Sorry we are late Darced, you had quite a bit of traps along the way here. Afraid you were being followed?" Darced grunts in anger, "It seems this war is falling apart." Sylvanas stands beside Mograine, "They had waited til you were alone lich, now is the opportune time to strike." She raised her bow, Darion his blades and the knights their swords. "It's over Damncaller, your rein is at an end." Darced releases his shields and engulfs in flame, "You do not realize the power that comes over from the mountains. The Light wielders are not to be trusted, they are easily corruptible!" Darion grunts, "The only one here whohas fallen from grace is you Darced! We will free the crusader and purge the world of your kind as we should have done years ago!" The death knights charge and Sylvanas continues her barrage, "It's over!"

Darced peers from the ground, "No..." An inferno surrounds him and the void tank, "Not yet."

[Pklol]

Ian direct all the troops to siege weapons and even lead the charge on the first one. He cut down forsaken elite left and right, and motioned for the abominations to topple the siege weapons. They had taken two down when one of Sylvanas elite deathguard blind sided Ian with a shoulder tackle. Ian through his hips up and set a hand on the ground to recover, preforming a back hand spring. Once he was up right, He placed a hand on his sword and prepared to do battle. "Fool..." Ian muttered.

The Forsaken came at him hard and fast. Ian caught another catapult fall out of the corner of his eye. "Excellent" He thought to himself. His opponent swung at him again this time Ian parried his blow down towards the ground then came back around lashed out with his katana. There was a whistle then a plop as the deathguard elite's head rolled off his shoulders. "I hate fighting Forsaken" Ian picked up the head of his fallen victim "They never seem to bleed enough." Ian threw the head in the general area of Sylvanas and Mograine.

[Darced]

The Nerubians kept coming and Aldean was still in some pain. He reviewed the events that lead him to this point; the Hero's Call board, Andorhal, Darced and the Scourge, Chonar and his riflemen, the Time-Lost, Finding his father alive and now dreading the possibilities. He thought back as he swung one of his hammers into an insect creature's thorax and blood splashed into the air. Perhaps you think ill of me human, I do not blame you. Aldean continued his swings taking down some of the Nerubians, But, regardless what we may think of one another the darkness looms. Causis cast a holy blast that toppled a wave of the creatures, only to have more rise. This darkness however is not I young Grey. The Dark Titan himself heralds a far worse wave of the death than the Scourge ever could, or would want to. Darced's words rung in the warrior's head ever since their meeting on the battlefield. Sargeras has many means into this world and he will come sooner than expected. Aldean cracked a Nerubian's skull and is tackled by others. As we speak, his agents have infiltrated the Crusade. After years, they've corrupted it and here it stands a shell of it's former self. Aldean thrusts the Nerubians off of him and grasps his side for it began to bleed once again. Causis is one of these agents. Aldean looks up to see Causis heal his wound with crusaders forming a defense around them. He will turn Aldean, and soon. He looks into the man's eyes and sees a tear roll down the paladin's cheek. [I]He knows this and will attempt to make amends. Before the end.[/I] The Nerubians begin to break past the crusader's phalanx and the two Greys get up, weapon's drawn. You must make sure that this doesn't come to pass. Every Crusader, before Sargeras arrives... Aldean looks onward towards the crusaders who fight valiantly to save their friends. "For the Crusade!" screams Causis as Aldean looks in awe. Must die.

The death knights cast dark magic towards Darced and grasps the lich's hands. "Go Lord Mograine! We have Darced!" The lich smirks and Sylvanas' eyes widen, "No! Let go!" A torrent of flame thrusts itself along the magical arms and the death knights are knocked back onto the ground. Ghouls crawl from the ground and begins to rip their flesh, "Lord Mograine!" The female night elf is consumed by the ghouls and dragged underground along with some of the other death knights. The Highlord and Banshee Queen watch as Darced teleports before them and begins to swing his blade around them. "Fall Back!" Darced casts a wall of fire around the force of death knights and more ghouls rise, "We will not give up Fordring! He is the key!" Darced and Mograine clash swords and the lich thrusts the Banshee Queen into the foray of flames with an arcane blast. "Sylvanas!" Mograine turns his attention back to the lich, "I will not let you corrupt the Highlord, he..." Darced looks down as their blades struggle against one another, "Other things threaten this world death knight. Far worse than I." Mograine takes his other blade from his belt and thrusts it towards Darced's chest. The lich blocks it with his other hand, "You've said this, how can you justify what you've done to this world Darced?! How can you say you have Azeroth's best interests in mind when you've killed so many?!" The lich nods, "You are right." The Highlord jumps back away from Darced's grotesque sword, "I do not have this world's best interests in mind." The death knight assumes a defensive stance, in thought of on how to engage the lich. "Instead I will ensure it's survival, even if it causes catastrophe." Darion Mograine screams, "You're insane!" The lich chuckles as the flames begin to inch closer to both of them, "This world knows not what comes, but I do. The Scourge will stop the Dark Titan and these realms will be free from the failed Light!" Arrows fly from the fires and strike Darced in the side. Time around him slows, "Now Mograine!" He charges, but notices as Darced slowly prepares a purple spell. Words sound from within the death knight's mind, We will stop him, even if the people of this world will not. Darion thrusts his blades into Darced's skull.

[xensorlol]

"My liege!"
Lethean turned from his wounded adversary, a crusader with half of his right arm slashed to pieces, and faced the death knight who had just called out his name and was now approaching him.
"What is it?" Lethean snarled, aware that the crusader, lying prone on the ground behind him, was attempting to rise. Rolling his eyes, the blood elf turned to him and plunged Shadowfrost downward, claiming yet another life. Returning both his gaze and attention to the death knight, he tilted his head slightly.
"Lord Darced has come under attack by both the Forsaken and the Knights of the Ebon Blade. Darion Morgraine is at the head of the charge, and Lord Darced has been grievously wounded!"
Lethean froze, fresh blood still running along Shadowfrost's length. "The Forsaken as well?" he asked. At the death knight's nod he continued, "Does the Banshee Queen lead them?" Again the death knight nodded, looking distressed. Lethean swore colourfully.
"Very well. We will have to abandon this siege, then," Lethean finally said, sheathing Shadowfrost. A pang of remorse shot through him as he realized he still hadn't retrieved his dagger, which was still in the alchemist's possession. There is little I can do about it at the moment, he thought and at the same time remembering that Bloodmist had been slain, the deathcharger's corpse lost amidst the hundreds of others in the blood-soaked soil.
Just then the sound of crackling flames reached Lethean's sensitive ears. At first, he'd thought that the mage had returned, but in the blink of an eye an arrow impaled itself in the mounted death knight's chest, and Lethean watched as crimson flames engulfed his form. Utilizing his own dark magic Lethean slammed the death knight out of his saddle with a wave of unholy energy, saving the undead steed upon which he had been mounted. Lethean smirked.
He now had a mount.
Worry not, my lord, Lethean thought, already spurring his steed in the lich's direction. Assistance is on the way.

[dangelo37]

((Mexy, I'm pretty sure you got your dagger back a while ago. I think I stabbed you with it a couple pages back :P))


"As long as I keep this commendation I won't be attacked here right? Then I'll see to my own wounds. Maybe we'll meet again crusader." Oliver waved farewell to the Captain and smugly thought to himself He would make a fine Forsaken one day. Maybe I'll speed up that process later.... Finding a spot amongst the ensuing chaos, he withdrew an empty flask and some herbs and quickly began mashing them in his mixing bowl. Adding a small amount of water and clutching his leather pouch, Oliver was able to refill some of his own supplies. If only I had access to laboratory. No matter! My stone will make these potions just as potent. He began laughing audibly when he noticed a man dressed in black yelling at him.

Oliver looked at this stranger for quite some time before letting what he said sink in. "A dragon? HAHAHA my poor fleshbag, there are only a few alchemists in the whole of Azeroth who have been able to achieve that kind of transformation. Great as I am (and I AM great) I do not have that secret recipe.... yet."What the man said was true though. He could feel his own brethren fighting in the forest beyond the fortress. "While I cannot fly us there, I can do something close. Quickly, come with me and we will make it there in great haste!" Oliver beckoned for the man he finally recognized as the wyrmslayer. "That was a foolish thing you did up there wyrmslayer. Had you failed we may all have died... some of us AGAIN!" Oliver cakled maniacally at his own humor and they finally reached the stables. They fought many Nerubians along the way and this man with pistols shot down many gargoyles. At least he has some skill with those things.

"Here take this one. I'll grab the brown." Oliver approached the horses the pair mounted. "When you see the mists, take a deep breath. Trust me." Oliver said with a wink. He took 2 vials out of his satchel and threw them on the ground around the steeds. The reared in shock and began thrashing about slightly. Oliver began to grin as his potions took affect. The horses and the riders began to fade from view. In a matter of seconds they were completely invisible. "This will only last a couple of minutes, but it should be enough time to get away this blasted castle. Let's go!" As the two took off, the second potion took affect and the horses began running faster than any horse physically could. "We will be there in minutes human. Better have those guns ready." Oliver laughed as the pair made their way towards the rear of the battle... and towards the Dark Lady herself.

----------------------

"Fine then Forsaken. Be on your way. If we do meet again, it will likely be with my blade at your throat. Let him leave men. He did us a great service today. We are allies of fortune and it is only temporary. Now riders! Repel these Scourge invaders! For Tyr's Hand!!!!" There was a resounding battle cry from the mounted warriors and paladins and, with the Captain in the lead, they began to slaughter the Nerubians.

The Captain charged his pike with holy power and slashed left and right at the underground invaders. He saw the man from before with two hammers taking out Scourge of all kinds and rallied his men around him and the greyed warrior beside him. "Archers! Fire from behind these two. Knights to the flanks! Warriors push the phalanx forward! Give these two all the support you can. We will NOT let Tyr's Hand fall!!"

[Mengucekli]

"Wise words forsaken, it was truly a reckless action. But wisdom does not win us battles, courage does." said Ralof in response of Oliver's comment as they moved towards the stables. He took out a black piece of clothing from his rear pocket, rounded it up around his neck and covered his nose and mouth with it like a mask to prevent whatever effect the concoctions would have on him. Something inside him was yelling not to trust this forsaken, but he suppressed his instincts for that moment he had not the luxury to choose his allies. He simply had to trust the alchemist.

Ralof's eyes widened in awe as the horses turned invisible in the mists that covered them. "Incredible!" he thought as he looked at his hands fading away. He quickly checked his pistols and reloaded them before turning invisible. As they rode out of stables steeds ran faster than any common horse could. Only maybe his Highlander or a Grizzler could have kept up with their pace. He liked the speed of steeds a lot and a grin settled on his face. "I think i started liking that forsaken." he thought to himself then he realised that he did not know his name yet. He yelled "Hey, you can call me Thor. What is your name alchemist?".

They rode out of the keep and through the unsuspecting enemy forces, towards Lord Mograine and Lady Sylvanas. The moment Ralof caught the glimpse of Dark Lady herself he was shocked "She is here! By herself! Only with a bunch of guards!". He almost forgot all about the battle that was going on and realised that he was in a perfect position to shoot her in the head, she would not even see that coming. All of his hatred towards forsaken flamed up, and he reached for his shotgun. He placed an elekk slug in it, that would definitely do the job. He looked at the situation, doing such a thing would definitely mean his own demise. "So be it. If it exacts revenge of my people over that disgusting murderer, my life means nothing." he told himself. But that would also land a huge blow to their efforts against Scourge there. He looked around, to all crusaders that fought valiantly and died, to the people wounded, to the forsaken deathguards that threw themselves against the scourge... He hesitated for a moment, would he go so far as to betray these people, this effort itself, and even help the very Scourge he hated far and most above all, for the purpose of revenge? "Argh! Dammit!" he ruffled, then he saw Lethean riding relentlessly towards Mograine and the Lich, who were locked into combat with each other. After a brief hesitation, he moved his aim from Dark Lady towards riding Lethean and took the shot. But right before he could shoot his rifle, his horse fluffed and it broke his careful aim. Slug traveled through the battlefield, piercing several ghouls along the way and punctured through Lethean's horse's neck. It destroyed the already weakened spine which attached the magically resurrected steed's head to its body. Its head dropped on the ground and started bouncing. Huge headless beast crumbled up front in an instant, sending unsuspecting and surprised Lethean flying off his ride a few meters away. He crashed on some forsaken deathguards and found himself surrounded by them in a moment.

"Curses!" yelled Ralof as he missed his supposed target because of the horse he was on. "If only i would be riding Noir.." he murmured as he approached the contingent of deathguards that were holding siege weapons against the encroaching scourge that was led by Ian. "To the hell with fate! Fighting side by side with forsaken! I should have never come here!" he whined as he jumped off the horse that was turning visible again. He drew his pistols and started shooting gargoyles that were carrying ghouls as they flied, to drop on top of the forsaken forces. Shot and falling ghouls and gargoyles crashed on soil and sound of broken spine filled the air, while Ralof enjoyed firing rounds with cheerful laughter.

[Pklol]

Ian watched as Lethean fell, and took of in his direction. With the abominations crushing the last catapult his mission was accomplished. He shoulder tackled the first deathguard he saw, breaking the circle they formed around Lethean. "Well fancy seeing you here, my lord" Ian spun a deathguard around with a hard left hook, then preceded to break his neck, Severing the head from the body. "It seems as though...The Lich has been mortally wounded." Ian parried a blow and took the arm that launched it at him off with a quick snap of his arm. His blade was a manifest of his own body blocking effortlessly then striking like a snake.

[Darced]

Darion lifted his blades and grunted as the lich's now truly lifeless corpse followed them. He allowed the skull to slide through and Darced laid on the ground, He sheathed his swords and Sylvanas came to his side, "Well done Highlord, you've killed him." The death knight nodded, "With his death, the Scourge will fall swiftly." The Banshee Queen smirked, "I will free Fordring from that prison. I suppose you and your knights can take care of Darced's remnant?" The death knight does nothing for a moment and then slowly turns toward the Scourge assault. "Hurry Sylvanas, some snakes have more than one head." He and his knights advance from the void tank, "Milord, what of the Forsaken behind us, they could use some assistance." Mograine shakes his head, "They can handle the Scourge, let us worry about the main attack; we'll need all we have."

Sylvanas approached the void tank and marveled at it's structure. "I have never seen such power condensed that small of a space." The black streaks of energy whizzed past the intruder as she approached. Alchemists came from behind their queen, "Fear not Dark Lady, we will free the paladin in short order!" The alchemists gleefully invaded the tank and began to set tubes of green fluid along the tubes. An undead with a black cloak and goggles looks to the human, "What a shame we have to keep you alive. What a champion of the Forsaken you would be!" The scientists hurried back along with Sylvanas, primer in hand. Once they were away and the void tank was yards onward, the alchemists screamed, "CLEAR!"

The Void tank was engulfed by a thick green cloud and a shock wave followed it. The alchemists looked in awe as their device worked it's magic. The plague cloud began to corrode the metal and shut the mechanism down, no longer uttering the strange hymns of the dark magic. Sylvanas approached as the alchemists quickly recieved Fordring's body from the canister. They put a gas mask on him and carried him from the wreckage; "Can you hear me paladin?" The old man said nothing as he laid on the ground, now free from the gas mask. One of the alchemists began to smack the paladin's face in an attempt to wake him. Then she checked his pulse, "He's alive milady, but his heart is displaying an odd rhythm." The Banshee Queen raises an eyebrow, "How so?" The alchemist nods, "Normally a living creature has a set pace, like bump, bump, bump. Instead..." She places her skeletal finger on his throat, "Instead, it goes BUMP, bu-bu-bu-bump.....Bump?" Another alchemist caresses his chin, "Strange indeed, perhaps he is suffering from a withdrawal an his body is trying to compensate?" Tirion Fording's eyes open and he gasps for air, "Where am I?"

The paladin had a moment to recollect his thoughts as the Forsaken presented him with water. "Fear not paladin, you are in good...enough hands." The paladin nodded to the alchemist, "Thank you. What has happened? Where is Darced?" The Banshee Queen kneels before the human and begins to explain, "Weeks ago Heartglen came under attack by the Scourge and you were captured. Since, the people of Lordaeron have been fighting a desperate battle against Darced and the newly revived Scourge. I, Darion Mograine, the Argent Crusade and heroes have just now stemmed the tide and have recovered you. Now, your beloved crusade faces it's peril within the walls of Tyr's Hand and you're the only one who can rally them." Tirion places his hand on his head, "So, Sargeras has not appeared yet?" The Banshee Queen's eyes widen, "You know of that?"

The paladin rises, "Darced told me much while within that prison." He began to pace, "Of the Lich King, Sargeras, the Titans..." He turns to Sylvanas, "I know everything, but it seems you do not." He points to the tank's wreckage, "If what Darced told me was true then that tank would not have opened unless the Dark Titan was close by." Sylvanas squints, "You believe the lich?" The paladin nods, "He warned me of everything, long ago." The Forsaken alchemists shake their heads, "What are you talking about? Why are you talking about Darced as if he were on our side? He slaughtered hundreds!" Fordring exhales heavily, "If only I had listened all those years ago..." The Banshee Queen grasps the paladin by the shoulders, "Stop speaking as if you were insane! We have a war to fight!" The paladin pushes her away, "You don't know anything! Darced was on our side the whole time!"

The Banshee Queen looks in shock, Fordring continues, "When Kel'Thuzad ruled these lands I fought the Scourge, but like many we attempted to understand them as well. We discovered there were many factions and some vied for control of others, yours was not the first Sylvanas. One day, we ran into a wizard after a terrible battle. He was undead, in a black cloak, he showed us the way home. He showed us using magic, a path through the trees that lead to our base camp. We spoke at length with this undead, he claimed to be of the Scourge, but of his own free will." The Banshee Queen rose, "The Scourge are slavers of souls! No one Scourge could have any free will!"
Fordring shook his head, "His name was Darced and he was a trusted disciple of Kel'thuzad. We were shocked at first, but listened as he told us what paths we needed to take. Of course, we were more than skeptical, but the undead was sure of his fate and stood still despite our threats. We contained him, but Darced would present us with valuable information, such that caused great destruction among his own kind." The Alchemists offered more water, "What is the point of all this?"
Fordring nodded, "Darced and others, despite being Scourge helped us and told us what is to come. They told us their purpose, their goals and the future." Sylvanas crossed her arms, "What future was that?" Fordring presented the area around them, "This. He told me everything that would happen and why. I understand why he's done what he has and why I must do what I must." He approached the lich's corpse and lifted the skull, "As we speak Sargeras is infiltrating our ranks and we must hurry to stop him." Sylvanas turns to the paladin, "Darced was insane. You'd do best not to listen to these words that have crawled into your skull human." The paladin looks to her, "As much as I hate to say it, he was justified." The Forsaken and Sylvanas raise their arms towards the paladin, "He slaughtered our people! He was a monster!" Tirion stands, "A necessary one." He looks to the corpse, "The Scourge is the only force able to withstand the demonic presence that we will be sure to face. I was naive to think his coming would not require sacrifice." The Banshee Queen thrusts her bow into the paladin's face and he falls to the ground, "You bastard! I will kill you for that!" Tirion looks from the rock, "The only way to open that cage was if Sargeras was near." Sylvanas lowers her bow, "Darced designed it so that I would be released at the opportune moment." The Banshee Queen snarls, "To stop him?" The paladin extends his hand towards the lichs corpse, "To save him."

Aldean turned as the Nerubians began to surround his father, he had been using holy energy to hold them at bay, but so many had appeared. The rain began to pour harder and streaks of white had begun to become streaks of black. Aldean's eyes widened, "Father!" The Nerubians were pushed back by a massive black spell. Blood poured over the crusaders and oozed over their faces. "Father!" Aldean rushed to him, but felt a sharp pain in his side, "Damnit!" He peered from his wound and began to see red lights appear from the black blood. "Yes, Aldean?" The warrior smiled as his father's voice came to him, "Fa--!" His eyes a frozen in fear as Causis appears from the blood, black energy surrounds him and his eyes are a deep crimson, At last, I have arrived!

A black streak of power hurled itself from Tyr's Hand, to be seen from miles. It flew straight up, into the cloudy sky and became a torrent of dark power. Whatever or whoever is causing that cannot be a good thing; the Dark Titan has arrived it seems.

((I suggest those who have not been Scourged get to the keep, it's about to get bumpy!))

[xensorlol]

Neyira raised her head, catching the dark exposion outside the walls of Tyr's Hand, and suddenly her resolve hardened. Darren, too, lifted his gaze, and now leaned heavily against the night elf, his breath coming out in short, heavy gasps.
"We . . . have to get inside the keep, Neyira," he said through clenched teeth. "Neyira?"
But Neyira wasn't hearing him - not anymore. She knew what she had to do, and she didn't like it. But she knew that some sacrafices, regardless how difficult they may be, had to be made.
Neyira realized that Darren was staring at her strangely. She shook her head in silent denial of the young, aspiring wizard's words. He quirked an eyebrow at her, clearly confused even as his expression twisted in to one of just barely-suppressed pain.
"Actually speaking would be . . . helpful, don't you think?"
Neyira shook her head. "The Scourge's advance has been halted," she began, her words a whisper and her tone filled with shock.
"What? Stopped?" This particular statement seemed to give Darren energy, and despite the young mage's injuries he pushed off of the night elf, swaying slightly as he tried to stabalize himself.
Neyira nodded. "They've been halted. There's only two ways that could have possibly caused such a thing to come." She met Darren's gaze, her own glowing azure eyes wide. "Either Lethean has fallen, and Darced has pulled his troops back to recuperate, or-"
"Or Darced's fallen," Darren continued for her, "and Lethean is pulling his troops back to defend his master, or slay Darced's killers." Neyira nodded.
"Exactly."
Now the young wizard sank to the ground, seeming exhausted as his wounds from earlier took their toll. He leaned forward, holding his face in his hands, and sighed. "So, at least one of them has fallen. That much can be assured?"
"Yes," Neyira replied instantly. "I know Lethean. There is no other possible conclusion as to why the Scourge are pulling back. Either he's died, or Darced has.
Darren nodded slowly. "So, the only question left to ask is . . . which of them was it?"
Neyira shrugged now, resting her right hand on Frostgore's hilt. "I don't know. Ever since Lethean and I . . . " She paused, feeling a lump form in her throat as she recalled that fateful day, almost a month ago (I think?).
They had fought side-by-side, as they had since the day they had met, against the same foe she now fought without him - indeed, now fought alongside Lethean - and had had both their loyalties tested. And while Neyira had been strong enough to stay her blade, strong enough to hear wisdom instead of act foolishly . . . Lethean had not done so. They had clashed together, and Lethean had seperated himself from everyone and everything.
Obviously not everything, her consciousness told her, and the night elf had to agree, realizing that she had not heard anything from her 'friend' until now, and she was heartbroken - if one could give such a term to a death knight - when she discovered he'd joined with Darced and the remnants of the Scourge, apparently supposed to be jailored and kept in check by Highlord Bolvar Fordragon: the new Lich King after Arthas Menethil.
This can not be of his doing, or at least of his own will, Neyira thought, mulling it over more thoroughly now that she finally had the chance to do so. Few of us were told of what had become of Highlord Fordragon . . . save for those who had been present and personally fought the Lich King. Bolvar had taken up the crown of the Lich King of his own will, declaring that, while Tirion Fordring and the heroes of Azeroth had their destinies to fight for, so too, had Bolvar found his.
The soud of the mage coughing jolted her back to the present fully, and she knelt beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder as another fit overtook him. As it slowly subsided, Darren wiped his mouth with the back of a gloved hand, then raised his pained eyes to hers. "You were saying?" he asked, again raising an eyebrow questioningly, somehow maintaining his demeanor though he knew the extent of his injuries.
"Right, uhm . . . " Neyira closed her eyes for a moment, forcing her emotions down. "Before Lethean took off on his own and joined Darced, he was a tough person, impossibly determined, and attempting to persuade him otherwise of his motives or somehow try to scare him off by instilling fear into him was a feat of strength . . . one that none had yet accomplished."
Darren nodded, understanding even though he knew nothing of her friend. This fact seemed to anger her slightly, but she shoved that down, too. Now is not the time to lose your head, Neyira, she scolded herself, and an ear twitched as Darren spoke, "A tough past, I assume. Likely before his death he faced great tragedy. Tell me, Neyira . . . did you know him before the time of his death?"
"No, I did not," Neyira answered, lowering her gaze to the ground, her hand tightening slightly on Darren's shoulder. he glanced at it, but otherwise his attention was diverted fully on to Neyira.
"So you must have met him sometime after . . . did you fight together during Light's Hope?" At Neyira's nod, Darren frowned. "So, it was before that as well."
Now she growled. "No. We met during the battle for Light's Hope, not before or after. In the aftermath of the battle and our freedom of Arthas's grasp, we became fast friends."
"So he told you of his past?"
Neyira hesitated. "Some of it." She growled again, this time in both warning and confusion. "What does this have to do with the fact that the Scourge is retreating, and either Lethean or Darced is dead - by Elune, both of them could be for all we know!" She was becoming quite irritated by this young human, who seemed more thirsty for knowledge than all other things. WHy does Lethean's past concern him, anyway?
Darren was not surprised by Neyira's response - or if he was, he did not show any signs of it - and merely leaned his head forward once again, holding it in his bloodied hands. His breathing was heavy, and Neyira knew his wounds were obviously more severe than they revealed. He could be wounded more deeper than just what I can see, she thought, maybe even internal bleeding. He needs a paladin. She asked, "Can you stand on your own?" When he nodded, she helped him to his feet, once again offering her shoulder and arm. Darren took them both gladly, and his eyes shone with both pain and gratitude. "You need a healer."
This time, Darren did not refuse. "Aldean needs no information from me. With this turn of events, I now realize my earlier plan would mean little, just as it would serve to accomplish us nothing. Victory is already ours. Now we simply need to survive this siege until the Scourge has completely and fully retreated." There was an odd note to his voice, almost as if . . .
"You know I am still going to leave," she muttered, "and yet you do not argue any longer."
Darren forced a half-grin. "No, I do not, night elf, for I now understand your motives and the reasoning behind your actions." With effort he lifted his head, meeting her gaze with those solemn, grey-blue eyes full of wisdom that belied his young age. "I also see that you have the same resilience as Lethean does, so you say. Arguing will earn me nothing, as you will leave either way. So, as you can see, I've simply accepted the fact and moved on." Now he chuckled, though the gesture brought him pain and the laughter was weak. "Moved on to more important things, like making sure I survive this farce."
Neyira smiled too, happy and sad at the same time. "Thank-you, mage . . . I will not forget you."
"Nor I you, death knight," he returned. "It seems that not all death knights are stained with evil, or even dark souls regardless of their motives and faction." His smile deepened, and though it was pained, it was genuine, as were his next words: "I wish you luck on your quest, Neyira Shadehunter." She knew he did not mention it would likely be her last; they both knew it already, without it being put in to words.
Ten minutes later, Darren taken in by the paladins of the Argent Crusade and the reins of a charger pressed in to her hands, Neyira rode out of Tyr's Hand and in to the mass of Scourge whom were both fighting and retreating, the reins of her mount held tightly in one hand, a glowing, blood-soaked runeblade in the other, and a fierce snarl on her pale violet lips, which were hidden by a dark, demonic helm that spoke otherwise of the good that she'd still held within herself.

((Yes, I guess I do have my dagger back. Or maybe it fell out of Lethean's back during the fighting, and someone else managed to re-acquire it? O_o))

[dangelo37]

"Thor is it? I think I'll call you wyrmslayer. A story like that should be told more than once. My name is Oliver of the Grand Apothecarium." Oliver was still skeptical of this human, but this was war! No time for skepticism. As they made their way to the rear, they passed many skeletal soldiers rummaging through the corpses of their allies and fallen crusaders. Death knights were raising the dead in an attempt to replenish their numbers. Looking back towards Tyr's Hand, Oliver saw the battle still raging on; gargoyles sent unholy bolts of energy at the castle defenses; nerubian forces were making tunnels to allow the Scourge to enter from many different passages. They looked as though they had no chance but Oliver knew that the warriors inside would not simply let their castle fall.

Oliver and his companion made it to the forest's edge when they saw her. The Dark Lady herself was confronting Dacred alond with Highlord Morgraine. Oliver jumped off his steed to assist when he noticed out of the corner of his eye Wyrmslayer loading his shotgun. His aim seemed to be at Sylvannas and not Dacred abd for a moment he thought he had been tricked. Suddenly, Oliver's mind filled with the images from the nightmare he had experienced earlier on. He thought of all the nasty and indescribable things he would do to the human if he had pulled the trigger. Struggling with internal turmoil, he moved his gun towards a riding death knight and fired. His horse reared unexpectedly and made his shot miss his target. Oliver calmed down after that and decided not turn the man into a bubbling puddle of acid.

Is that Lethean?? Again!? That damned deathknight never gives up! Lethean quickly had recovered from his fall and his faithful servant was immediately at his aid. Ian had destroyed all of the catapult launchers that the Horde Goblins had put together. Only a handful of plague bombers had been spared being hidden deeper in the forest. "Those two cause much too much trouble" Oliver said to Thor. "Beware of of them. They are far more powerful than most of these Scourge fodder." As Oliver said that he saw out of the corner of his eye Mograine plunge a dagger into Dacred's skull. "He's done it.... he's defeated the Lich!" Oliver rushed to the top of the hill and saw a corp of Alchemists begin working on opening the strange tank. "Oliver is that you? I thought you were on a supply mission. Why are you out here?" "No time to explain right now. I've found myself in some... unsavory company. Nevertheless they are here to help and we should do what we can to assist. The Scourge are a common threat we share with The Alliance as I'm sure the Dark Lady has said herself. How can I help?" After Sylvannas had interrogated the man inside the tank, Oliver saw the dark energy erupt out of Tyr's Hand. What sorcery created that? The only beings with power like that are... "The lich must have been right..." Master Faranell said. "The titan is here and plans ruin for all of Azeroth."

"Faranell!! What in blazes are you talking about? Titan? Do you mean Sargeras? I thought him to be defeated...." Apothecary Faranell explained the events to Oliver and Oliver gave his report of what had happened and of what was going on inside Tyr's Hand. "I'm assisting a group of adventurers inside the Hand. The nerubians are making their way underground and gargoyles attack from above. We need get in there or all of them will be slain!" "We are working on that now. For now, assist the alchemists with our plague bombs. Your skills are a little more... advanced than those here. Use that stone of yours to help the Forsaken advance." Oliver clutched his leather pouch close and ran over to Thor who had been up to his own devices. "Wyrmslayer! We need to push from behind, back into the Hand. Those two deathknights from before are causing trouble against our bigger siege weapons. We only have a few plague spitters left. Please help keep them away from it while I get to work." Oliver ran back into the forest and his pouch glowed a bright blue. The cauldrons with the plague already mixed in them began to bubble violently and Oliver took command. "The Scourge will wish they had never been raised..."

-------------------------------

There are too many of them, thought the Captain. They are breaking through our phalanx and our flanks are being shredded from all sides. "Hold your ground men! We will not give up the Hand to these undead monstrosities!" The Captain jumped off his steed and slapped it to make it run off into safety, I hope you fare better than I. He charged his Poleaxe with holy energy and began his assault anew. He had been trained to use his long weapon to attack from a distance to limit counter attacks and he made a show of it. Spinning the deadly blade all around him, he was able to decimate the Scourge ranks. We're making a dent! We can defeat them if we keep a calm head on our shoulders!

Suddenly, he looked to the human with the hammers and saw a terror in his eyes. Moments later dark energy shot upward into the sky emanating from the elder fighter. His eyes glowed a crimson color and all the Captain could hear was, "At last, I have arrived!" Rushing to the man's aid, the Captain was able to pull him away to a corner of the courtyard turned battlefield. "What in Light's name is this? What demon has possessed him? You! Healer! Help this man as much as you can. He is gravely wounded" The pillar of black energy shot high into the sky and the Captain looked around to see his entire contingent of riders had fallen and only a few Tyr's Hand defenders survived.What will we do?

((This is getting awesome!))

[Pklol]

Ian felt to surge of energy instantly followed by "At last, I have arrived". "Wonderful..." Ian thought to himself as he cut down another of the Tyr's defenders. This most certainly would spice the situation up quite a bit. How would the coming of this great deity shape the sides of war. He longed to do battle with a titan, and it was looking as though he might get the chance. The lich had fallen, but Ian couldn't help but wonder if it was for a greater plan...a ruse so to speak. In the short time he had dealt with him, Ian knew there was something to his death that He was over looking. Ian cut the last of the circle down, splitting the last defender in half right across the torso. He pointed his blade at Oliver and Faranell. From behind his cloak he fixed his gaze on them. He wanted to lash out, and attack but He felt it best to see what Lethean would want...however he knew with the titan now in play that things could turn south very quick for either side. His anticipation was building and He knew that something big was about to spill over...

[Mengucekli]

"A story like many." murmured Ralof but then suddenly he was shocked...

"What the hell? Holy shit! Look at the size of.. Aw crap! What in the blazes is that thing?" were all Ralof could mutter at the sight of huge column of dark energy. He was in total awe. He was unsure of what to do. Going back or staying outside, which would be better? He wondered.

--------------------

"Why you thumpy pompf!" mumbled Grimgor as he awakened, finding Bolt Noir licking his face. He shoved away the gentle beast and tried to get on his foot. He was still under the effect of hangover, his head felt like cracking inside. He held his head with both of his hands and murmured a mending spell to get rid of the pain. He realised that he was wearing an Argent tabard and he was missing almost all of his clothing. Only his dagger seemed to be still in his possession. He shook his head in shame and stepped outside the guard tower, only to face the huge column of dark energy emaneting from the ground up to the sky. In awe, he mumbled "What hell! Light be with us!". He looked down the hill and saw wounded and dying men all over the place. Bolstering his focus, he dismissed the fact that there was a huge darkness right in the middle of courtyard, then conjured a thin cloud under his feet and slowly glided down the slope.

He landed right next to the wounded Aldean and Darren. Both were gravely injured but Aldean was still holding on his own, but Darren was about to pass out. "Internal bleeding." he thought by the moment he saw the color of young mage's face. He approached him slowly and put his hand on Darren's forehead. "Done you what? Torn apart. Belly up naught the faed, thank nee later." he mumbled and meanwhile he started channeling a soft, recuperating spell that would ease his pain. Darren let out a deep breath of relief as his lungs started feeling much better. "Took'a took'a, get you one pieese no time!" he smiled as he tried to relax him. Then all of a sudden, before Darren could realise, he landed a swift blow to his upper stomach, harshly shaking Darren. Young man rose up in pain and caughed a mouthfull of blood, releasing the last remnants of internal bleeding out of his body. He gently lyed the young wizard back, and murmured "Apoliz- Apelij- Apolees- Argh! Sorry. No other way.". He realised that shadowy magic was intervening his holy powers. He merged both of his palms upon Darren's chest and forced a healing penance through his body with over charged holy magic, in an attempt to flush out the dark energy out of mage's ebb flow. He was not sure if it totally cleansed his body, or even if such a total cleanse was possible at all, but he felt that his renewing spells flowed better now and he saw Darren recovering much better then earlier. Lastly he checked Darren's body for any major scars or bleeding but he could see none, young wizard seemed pretty in good shape despite the situation they were fighting in. "Skillful." he thought to himself and left Darren to rest and recover.

Looking at Aldean, Grimgor realised that he had underestimated the warrior's situation at first glance. His wound looked deeper than he first thought, and he must have lost a lot of blood. Grimgor approached him and gently held the sitting man on the shoulder, but Aldean grasped him with both hands at his throat and his terorized gaze locked into the eyes of the priest. "Fix me priest! Do it now! My father! Oh, by the Light, why? Heal me quick!" yelled Aldean, his eyes were looking at Grimgor's but the dwarf got the feeling that he actually did not even see him. "Shock? Strange." he thought as he raised both of his hands, placed them on Aldean's both shoulders and all of a sudden glowing holy tendrils sproted from his palms and forced the terorized warrior to lie back down and rooted him in place. "What? What is this? What are you doing? LET ME GO!" shouted Aldean but Grimgor simply replied "Hold still. Won't take long.". He focused his inner will and started channeling healing spells, closing the wounds and rejuveneting the worn-out muscles. He chanted the sacred power words and fortified his stamina further.. But Aldean was still unruly. Before he could finish his spells, Aldean broke off the shackles and rose up, grabbing his hammers. Grimgor looked at him and said nothing to stop, because he was being called all over the courtyard by the wounded and soldiers. "Revered! Please help!" "Help! My brother is dying!" "Priest! Over here!" "Help us!" "Brother! Please! Heal me!" "I'm dying!" "I can't feel my legs!" crying and moaning of the wounded was echoing through his mind and his heart felt heavier as the desperation and sadness took over. "How choose? Life over life? Man over man?" he thought desperately, looking around.

[xensorlol]

((Darren got his butt whooped by Zyraneth, so he'll be staying with the paladins for a while. Time for the kid to sit out and rest a while. XD.))

The Forsaken pushed savagely against Darced's minions, pushing them back and working feverishly with the Knights of the Ebon Blade. With the Scourge on the battlefield in mid-retreat, and the forces who had once worked to protect Darced being slowly advanced on, things were beginning to lighten for the side of good.
Though the Banshee Queen's forces were mainly compromised of Forsaken soldiers, deathguards, warlocks and rogues, there was one amongst them who, almost half an hour ago would not have thought to find herself in such a position.
Sin'dorei huntress Velirra Dawnstrider, ranger of Silvermoon and mercenary, accompanied by a massive crimson dragonhawk named Emberfire, whose left wing was scarred, stood alongside the Forsaken forces, a pheonix-shaped bow held in her slim arms.
Clothed in leather armor of red and orange, fiery-colored hues that revealed quite a bit of her slim yet muscular torso, a cloak embroidered with the emblem of Silvermoon on the back, she looked every bit a ranger. Her long, silky brown hair, which was mildly curly and, were it sunny, would have been shining, was covered by a hood, and a quiver of arrows was strapped to her back. A second, smaller version of this quiver was strapped at an angle on her waist, and two shortswords of elven make were sheathed on each hip.
Velirra's sharp, emerald eyes narrowed as she took aim, drawing an arrow and pulling the bowstring back. Her aim true, she loosed the arrow, and watched with satisfaction as it impaled her target - a human death knight, much larger than usual - through the throat. A spray of blood and ichor, and the death knight dropped.
Yet more blood to bathe my hands in, she thought, not at all abashed by the fact. The Scourge were a blight upon this land and, though she yearned for peace, mindless corpses could not be reasoned with.
Nor, do I think, the one whom I hunt. Her thoughts turned to the main reason why she was in the Plaguelands: the fact that she was chasing a wanted fugitive of Quel'Thalas. Weeks ago, a worgen rogue had snuck his way in to Eversong Woods, and murdered an innocent citizen of Fairbreeze Village. This worgen, who had had a large bounty placed on his head by Ranger General Halduron Brightwing, had lead her on a merry chase so far. Now out of the elven lands, she found herself caught with this distraction . . . and yet she knew she could not simply abandon those that required her help.
For now though, she pushed aside all of these thoughts, focusing entirely on the battle before her. I'd thought the remnants of the Scourge were taken care of, she thought to herself, nocking another arrow and taking aim. I suppose I was wrong.
A sudden blast, which shook the earth to its very core, swept Velirra off of her feet. The usually-graceful ranger hit the ground hard, losing her grip on her bow. Emberfire hovered in the air, squawking in surprise. Velirra, too, was taken aback, and had th breath knocked out of her for it. A deep-toned bellow reached her ears, "At last, I have arrived!"
The voice vibrated along Velirra's bones and caused her to shiver with fright. The arrowtip swayed slightly over its target, and Velirra fought to steady her hand. What, you're just going to let some voice scare you so badly? She shook her head, emerald eyes flashing as she released the arrow. To her dismay, it struck the undead soldier's plated shoulder, bouning off harmlessly.
"Damn it!" she snapped, her temper flaring - something that was unusual for her. She'd started her chase with the worgen rogue since she'd investigated Fairbreeze, and had hoped to catch him before he'd left Quel'Thalas. The fact that even her tracking skills and speed hadn't been able to do so had scratched at her patience.
She drew another arrow, this time taking aim at another target. Out in front of her, Emberfire rained death on her foes, swooping in with her sharp talons and loosing small jets of flame at the undead corpses that shambled towards them.
The blood elf's ears twitched as eard movement to her right. Turning, she was immediately besieged by yet another one of the Scourge's death knights. This one, a huge male orc armed with two waraxes, shouted a battlecry before swinging downward with his weapons.
Knowing she only had milliseconds to act, Velirra rolled to the side, tucking her bow against her body as she did so. Being a ranger, and having been such for decades, Velirra was a master bladesman, and before she was even on her feet one of her shortswords was drawn, its blade glinting in the firelight. As she righted herself from her near-death escape, she tossed her bow. Almost impossibly Emberfire soared by, catching it in her beak. Her right hand free, she unsheathed her second shortsword and faced the death knight, taking a defensive stance. All this occurred in the span of ten seconds, and the orc still stood, both axes near the ground, eyes wide in shock. Finally, he shook himself and roared, charging her again. Nimble and agile, Velirra gracefully dodged the blow, spun, and slashed at the orc's back with both swords. The keen, honed-to-razor-sharpness blades cut through the dark, ominous plate like butter, slicing into the cold flesh beneath it.
Crying out in pain, the orc swung backwads, catching Velirra in the gut with the bottom of his waraxe's grip. The metal stud struck Velirra hard, and she was knocked back. She struck the ground and the breath whooshed out of her. Through vision that went grey around the edges as she struggled to stand, she watched the orc wobble on his feet for a moment, then collapse into a puddle of blood and ichor. She pushed herself to her feet - swaying slightly as she did so, feeling mildly lightheaded - and trotted over to the orc, ripping her blades from his corpse.
"One down," she muttered to herself, cocking an eyebow as Emberfire hovered beside her. She sheathed her blades and retrieved her bow, relieved to see it was okay. Then she turned a glance to Emberfire and smirked.

[Darced]

The Banshee Queen stomped on the paladin's hand before he could channel the magic. "You are truly mad Fordring." She turns to her apothecaries and nods, "It seems my friends there is only one way to get the desired results we want willingly." The scientists approach, with another green bomb and places it near the paladin, "Agatha!" A valk'yr appears from behind the Banshee Queen, summoned by dread magic that she has acquired. "Once the Highlord is dead, I want his corpse raised." The bomb begins to tick and Sylvanas implants a dart into the paladin's throat. Tirion is rendered immobile as the poison seeps into his arteries, "May he make a fine Forsaken." Tick tick tick...

A swirling force strokes through the air towards the battle below. I must find Lethean! Only he could cure this nonsense. The energy goes unnoticed through the fields and finally acknowledges the blood elf, engaged in combat. It approaches and whispers in his ears, "Death knight, just as Arthas was approached by Kel'Thuzad's ghost, so too shall you by mine." The hush of the wind continues, "You must aid Tirion Fordring in my release, he is the key and I am it's guide. Ensure the Banshee Queen's anterior motives do not come to pass. You have but moments, and I shall grant you the power to stop her." A chuckle is heard, then a resumed voice, "I give you the power of fire, let it and your sword sing as one." Lethean's blade engulfs in fire and his dead heart kindled, "Go now my chosen knight. Destroy Mograine and the Banshee Queen!" The Scourge begins to gather around their master, ready for battle against the ominous death knight line. "This is the day of harrowing, for the Scourge."

Aldean sits in shock as the priest tends to his wound. "What demon has possessed him?" The warrior turns, "I can only guess, but..." Many of the crusaders begin falling around Causis as a torrent of black energy, acting as flames engulfs them. "Who else have we been expecting?" Causis red eyes turns towards the Nerubians who've remained behind. "Traitors! There is no hope for any of you!" Aldean squints, "Traitors? The Scourge?" Only the Scourge are capable of defeating him in his mortal form. Archimonde designed us for this. The warrior's eyes widened, and he stands. "Sargeras!" The dark mass moves, his red eyes pierce towards the call, "Hello there, Sargrelle. Have you come again to grovel at my feet?" Sargrelle? The mass begins to swirl around Causis and wings appear from within; the red eyes continue to gaze. No? Your family will not serve as you did centuries old? Aldean stares ominously, "I see. Very well!" The mass disperses and a demon appears; a man colored void black with two bat like wings on his back. Massive horns atop his head and claws from his hands, Then you will join this world..." The demon raises his hands and the fallen crusaders rise, with red eyes and pale skin, In flame!

Cannon fire engulfs the corrupted crusader army and Sargeras looks above, the rain has stopped and a fleet of airships have arrived, firing onto the demonic forces. Raaaaaaghhh! The Alliance gunship leads the charge and lands troops to the ground using ropes. Forsaken and Alliance marines engage the crusaders, they cheer as they collide head on with the corrupted crusaders, "FOR THE GREYS!"

((The Greys will help you against the demon lord, use them as you see fit. Also, expect Sargeras' reinforcements soon! Have fun :P))

[xensorlol]

Lethean brought Shadowfrost across the space in front of him in a bloody arc, bringing down both Scourge and Crusaders as he found himself besieged by both. Suddenly a soft breeze wafted around him, and with it the words, "Death knight, just as Arthas was approached by Kel'Thuzad's ghost, so too shall you by mine. You must aid Tirion Fordring in my release, he is the key and I am it's guide. Ensure the Banshee Queen's anterior motives do not come to pass. You have but moments, and I shall grant you the power to stop her." Darced's ghost chuckled, then, "I give you the power of fire, let it and your sword sing as one."
Lethean beheld Shadowfrost as it was suddenly engulfed in fire. His heart, cold, dead and seemingly nonexistent suddenly warmed, and Lethean closed his eyes as he felt the warmth travel through him. When he again opened his eyes, they flared a dark orange.
"Go now my chosen knight. Destroy Morgraine and the Banshee Queen!" Darced crowed, and the wind stilled, leaving only Lethean Darkfury . . . Scourgelord and Champion of the one who had brought him to such power and command.
He grasped Shadowfrost by the hilt, and this action seemed to give energy to the flames. A grin spread across his face, though it was hidden by his helm. "Your will . . . is my command, my lord," he whispered, then lifted his gaze to where he could feel a remnant of Darced's presence. He glanced around, but could find no mount. Narrowing his eyes, he snarled, "Very well. On foot I shall travel."
And so he did, cutting a swath through the battlefield that impeded his progress. Shadowfrost's flaming blade sliced through Crusader and Scourge alike - Lethean no longer cared even for his own minions. The only task that his mind was set on completing . . . was that which his master commanded. Closer and closer he drew to Tirion Fordring, Darion Morgraine . . . and the Banshee Queen.
Lethena had once liked Sylvanas, even revered her. Now, however, she was an enemy, and one that the Champion of the Scourge was determined to eliminate.

[Pklol]

Ian cut another foe down, then dodged the arc unleashed by Lethean. "Are you mad? Same side remember..." Ian spoke harshly. That is when he saw something different about Lethean, and followed him as he began to cut through friend and foe alike. He looked around and saw what he assumed to be his intended destination, The banshee queen and Darion Morgraine respectively. He had no love for the Queen of the Damned, so if it came to blows he would attack her. Given Lethean's race he likely once thought of her as an ally.

Ian, now caught up with him, asked "So you intend to fight them by yourself? Or you going to fill me in to this plan you seem to have concocted our short time apart?" Ian began picking off those who managed to escape Lethean's swing. Ian had no love for either side, and without a lich king proactively controlling the scourge, they were nothing but fodder beneath Ian and Lethean's assault.

[xensorlol]

Lethean tilted his head towards Ian, barely acknowledging his acolyte. "I can - and will - take them alone. If you wish to follow, then so be it." And with that he turned his gaze back to his destination, not even noticing those whom he cut down, without any hint of mercy or compassion. With every step, and every swing of his flaming runeblade, he came closer and closer to his goal.
He soon realized that Ian may begin to think Lethean a traitor. The younger death knight had no clue of the Damncaller's plan, and if he saw Lethean rescue Tirion Fordring, who knew what could happen then? He could have the entire Scourge at his throat in seconds.
He suddenly stopped, surprising Ian as he turned. Growling, he said, "Very well. You may as well learn of my plan - or, rather, Lord Darced's plan - else I will end up dealing with my own soldiers, who will then think of me as a traitor." He paused only to cut down a Crusader, then straightened and faced Ian. "Though Lord Darced has been slain, his spirit still lingers. He has contacted me, and commanded that I see Tirion Fordring alive, as well as eliminate both the Banshee Queen, and Highlord Morgraine." He spoke the last name with mixed emotions, but he would not explain them, surely confusing Ian. Shaking such thoughts off, the blood elf turned back to face his intended destination. "The Damncaller's will shall be our command, acolyte. You may join me, and fight alongside me for the glory of the Scourge. Or, you can stay here, and finish off these miserable Crusaders and their captain." He strode off, not waiting for Ian's response, his flaming runeblade gripped tightly.

[Darced]

Darion Mograine grew concerned as his death knights began to meet smaller pockets of resistance. The Scourge had ceased their charge and instead pulled back, waiting to regroup. "Highlord! The Banshee Queen says Fordring is recovering quickly and will be able to join us soon." The death knight nods, "Good." He again looks onward for anything that will spark the Scourge's intentions. After a moment he sees the Scourge ranks have begun to make a path for someone; Darion grunts, "I see." He watches a man in black approach the front of their line, a sword of bright orange shines intensely. The man stops while at the head of this army, which has grown to a great size. "Death knights! It seems that on the other side of that field, a traitor challenges us!" Forsaken catapults pull up aside the death knights, as do the freshly battle hardened Forsaken elite. "Let us show the Scourge why they came to fear us!" He looks to his army, composed of death knights, and Forsaken. "We have all been cursed by this force you see here! We are the peoples who have sworn vengeance against the Scourge! United, the Lich King will fall. And this time forever!"

Darced's spirit appears before Lethean, and the Scourge minions stand at attention, as if they can sense his presence. Well done death knight. The armies are prepared and the board set. Now, to move the pieces. The goal of this game is to save Highlord Fordring; you cannot do that fighting Darion and his knights. The spirit's hand curve around one another. Another gift. Darced's ghost extends his hand, and a violet ball of energy swirls in his palm. This amulet will give you the power to stop time for a few moments. It will only work once, maybe twice. Use this once you make it to their line, let the Scourge do what it was made to do. The spirit begins to drift into the wind and he smiles. Just as Kel'Thuzad was given new life, so shall I. Nostalgic is it not?