**Ragnorak**
Ragnorak strolled through the streets of the burning city. Without remorse he trampled over his conquered foes taking great delight at each corpse he squished beneath his heavy boots, paving the way to the town centre. In his hand he held the decaying head of Rohan, leader of the Stormwind defence force.
Rohan’s blood dripped onto the floor, leaving a trail of red all the way from the front lines. As Ragnorak paraded their leader in front of the city, the frightened villagers hid inside their houses, peering out to see the monstrosities of war now so close to home. As they continued deeper down the streets of Stormwind, rear Horde troops left the formation and broke into nearby houses. The panicked inhabitants peered from behind their shutters as house by house succumbed to the savage horde pillaging. Horrified faces watching the triumphant army rampaging through the city only fed into the jeers of Horde troops, their loud battle cries drowned out the screams of help throughout the city.
Chaos ruled the streets of Stormwind as Ragnorak reached the centre and met up with his demonic ally Gorecleave. He held his hand up bringing a halt to the following column, causing more troops to gleefully split off into the smoke and fire. Upon coming to a standstill, Ragnorak nodded forward. Soldiers carrying large red Horde banners then walked past him, planting their flags into the ground, a squelching sound pierced the air as the poles entered the Alliance soldiers littering the floor. Some unlucky to still be alive gasped for air as the flag poles placed deeply into their body, depriving them off the last seconds of time on TrueWoW. Ragnorak glanced around the centre of Stormwind, he looked up to see Chasity’s body strung up on a lamppost and smiled, around him lay Paladins and soldiers covering the floor.
Noticing the Horde arriving, Gorecleave finished off a female Paladin in his hands, sliding her off his sword as she dropped to the ground. The thud echoed throughout the battlefield as she joined the mass graveyard of Alliance troops on the cobbled path. He then walked forward, carefully stepping over the bodies of Stormwind soldiers below him in stark contrast to Ragnorak’s brute force marching. Without breaking his stride his sword struck cleanly into the ground, the paladin on the receiving end let out a cry and flung his hands up, before gripping his hands and flopping back down. Gorecleave removed his blade and wiped the blood off and stood in front of the Horde war chief.
“Some stragglers remain, nothing to worry about, I assure” he told Ragnorak while removing the last bits of blood from his sword, he then looked up the hill to the castle, “Some may still have hope.”
Matching his gaze, Ragnorak ‘s eyes locked on the Stormwind’s keep. Up there sat the ancient seat of Stormwind, the rooms of the councillors and the first stones laid upon the city’s founding by Stray. Although now more a symbol of tradition rather than seat of power, Ragnorak’s desire meant it was to his reward, the pride of his conquest.
“Ha! Cowards flee their own city!” he bellowed, “Now they hide still behind their pathetic walls? Who is foolish to remain? Let us see their resolve when they face their headless leader!” he began to laugh manically at his own word play, before raising his axe and pointing it towards the keep.
At his command the horns of war were blown, the deafening drum beat restarted and the most forward Horde troops stopped their looting to continue their march through the city. The awful sound of steel manoeuvring through flesh was heard once again as Horde banners were ripped from Alliance corpses and raised high up into the air. Gradually as the mighty army made its way up the hill, the remaining troops took control of the surrounding city; battering down doors and slaying helpless villagers. Behind the long column the dripping blood of Rohan’s head led the way from the battlefield all the way up to the keep of Stormwind.
Approaching the summit of the hill, Ragnorak held the head up high, he looked into the eyes of his dead counterpart and smiled, swivelling the face round to face the large structure, “Look my friend. You are home!”
Distraught royal guards hurriedly tried to shut the mighty wood and iron doors as the army approached. Some outside sprinted at the Horde war chief with their weapons held aloft in a frantic attempt to salvage something from their inevitable defeat. Ragnorak’s beaming smile grew bigger as he matched their sprint, barging and cutting them out of his way. As he sliced through the outer guard he slammed into the giant doors, his eyes blood red with rage. Desperately the men inside pushed against the buckering door to keep the vile Horde out. Seemingly, Ragnorak’s strength seemed unnaturally strong as his eyes darkened, his soldiers then helped push the gate open forcing it to splinter and break.
The last defence of Stormwind sprung open revealing the corridor of the keep. Some guards were pushed to their feet from the force of the Horde’s efforts; others took to their knees begging for mercy. Ragnorak laughed as he spared none. Killing the first few, he then slowly walked up the purple carpet as it became layered in the blood of its defenders. Staring straight forward he ignored the fight around him, Stormwind guards rushed to attack him and his troops while his own men overwhelmed them; his focus was clearly on the throne of Stormwind and nothing else mattered.
He finally reached his goal, placed his axe on the ground and Rohan’s head on the arm rest before proudly sitting on his treasured seat. Around him the last echoes of Stormwind’s army were butchered in the surrounding chaos. His victory was now complete, his enemies vanquished. A smug smile crept across his face as he began looking around passed the battle, imagining how he would decorate the halls with more than the blood of his foes.
**Blackluster**
While the battle raged above his head, the frightened Blackluster carefully made his way down the spiral staircase. His hands traced across the walls trying to grip onto something, feeling the moist, cold stone and occasional moss all the way down. Insects and spiders tickled around his hand, yet the feeling felt irrelevant compared to the horrors enclosing on Stormwind’s people. His mind tried to focus down the dark pathway, but his mind was always dragged back to the noise above. Stepping down the corridor his hand sometimes traced into a slit in the wall, he looked into them with his torch to see where a candle once stood. Now only the holder remained, he slid his fingers through what was left of the wax and wiped it against the wall.
Suddenly, he heard Esunna talking above only to be cut off by a loud shouting. He paused for a moment to try hear better before a loud scream from the priest could be heard, as her body dropped onto the stone cathedral floor Blackluster realised he may not be so safe. The Horde were above him and he may well be trapped. He sprung into action and let loose all caution, his walk turned into a run into the Cathedral’s lower levels.
Panting for breath he slowly began to hear less of the noise above, going deeper below. Just then as he began to believe he may be safe, the crumbling stone step gave way. As soon as he felt his foot fall he attempted to cling on to the wall, but it was no use. His nails slide across the old stones, his torch dropped to the floor and he fell perilously down the long stair case grinding against the stone stairs. He closed his eyes as he plummeted to his inevitable death and accepted his fate.
After a few moments of falling at great speed, a light entered his eyes forcing one open, he saw the bottom of the stairs open up below him as he hurtled towards it. Blackluster couldn't help but open his second eye and watch as the ground came closer and closer, he turned away slightly, eyes still watching forward. Gritting his teeth he crashed on the white stone floor and was met by a candle lit room. Eerily, it seemed someone had changed and lit these candles while the ones down the stairway seemed devoid of contact for years.
Carefully raising himself he felt the pain of the crash throughout his body, he dusted his armour down and felt the dents in his steel defences. He then inspected the shield Esunna had given him, despite bearing the brunt of the fall by being on his back it was still in perfect condition, the gems around it gleamed ever as brightly and it held its form. Thinking nothing of it, he placed it back on his back, checked his sword and inspected the room he found himself in.
It was a small room with dim lighting, a few wooden chairs sat around it and a picture of his great grand father was placed on the wall. Blackluster did not know much of his ancestor, yet his picture was plastered throughout the city. The large portrait had a golden frame which felt warm to touch as his fingers pressed against it. After a brief moment of contemplation he turned to look around the rest of the room. The remaining supplements were not nearly as glorious, a worn chest and a large stone altar. He walked over to the chest hoping to find some clues or at the very least something useful. Approaching the chest, it was a square wooden shape with silver and golden strips holding it together. There was a small keyhole now covered by spider webs, he blew around the chest and began to cough as dust swept up around him, leaving the case.
After a brief struggle, he managed to spring the chest open, the lock seemed broken but lid itself was stuck on the base. More dust covered his eyes as he covered his face, before peering inside. Smiling in acceptance, his eyes scanned the chest to no avail. He slammed it shut and shook his head, a treasure chest with no loot he thought to himself. What pitiful luck.
Expecting nothing he then walked to the final item in the room, the large stone altar. He traced his finger along it as he walked by his side, as he got to the end he looked to see the finger now encased in a white powder and dust. The altar itself had a giant T on the left carved into the side, and a W on the opposite side. The text style itself was similar to that of Blackluster’s shield, while on the top and dripping around the edge sat a purple cloth with golden trip. It seemed ripped and torn with holes in it, the Stormwind knight picked it up and fluttered it about again throwing dust everywhere. He zoomed his view in and saw a giant S sat in the centre, another reminder of his own family’s history, and of his own failure for never living up to it. As he went to place it back down where he found it, he noticed an old parchment had been below it on the altar.
Reaching for it, he was careful not to the rip the ancient fabric and quickly realised it was a map. It was quite simple, and had many parts of the world missing perhaps due to its age and the evolution of the world. Yet Blackluster instantly saw a trail was on it, a guide from where he was to the sanctuary of the Paladins. He memorised the path before putting it in his pouch, hoping it would not rip. He then placed the cloth back on the altar and walked towards the wooden door at the back of the room.
As he reached for the knob, he turned to the empty room, seeing if he missed anything but also saying good bye to Stormwind. After letting out a sigh he tried to the door, pressing it slightly as it pushed back before opening. He walked down a dark path and found a ladder up, climbing up before coming to a trap door. Forcing it open and pushing away a cat skin rug, he entered a somewhat tranquil house. Emerging into it, the house was obviously not used in some time. A fireplace left of wood, a bed without sheets and pictures covered in dust. Leaving the house he walked onto a large mountain pass, a stream trickled over the cliff and he looked around, behind him sat a large wall of rocks and he quickly realised. He was still close to Stormwind, the cries again beckoned from the city and the smoke rose from the buildings. He turned his back from his old past, checked the map and left towards the Paladins.
**Belendor**
Satisfied with his cleansing of Theramore and the demoralisation of the Horde rebels, Belendor sat at a large wooden table in the main hall of the keep. He had declared there was to be a celebration meal, to mark the end of the war on the Alliance and announce the news from Stormwind.
Inside the large keep he sat alone for hours until his Belendorian guard entered and took their places around the room. Cooks and chefs then began placing food around the table before soldiers from Theramore’s defence and Belendor’s own company filtered in to enjoy the feast. As they took to their seats Belendor sat silently. After the last man entered and shut the door, Belendor rose to his feet and took a grail in his hand.
“My fellow Horde! He shouted, “Welcome! Today I bring you news. The word you have all been waiting for! Victory. Victory is ours and our enemies have been vanquished! Our friends in Stormwind have wiped the vermin of Alliance from the face of the Earth. Our hard work has paid off and our invasion is complete. What you see before you is but a taste of the fruits of victory. Eat, my friends, drink till the tavern is dry. While Ragnorak’s blood lust drinks on the blood of our foes, let us join our comrades and drink in their name. To the Horde!” he then used his grail in the air to finish the toast.
Around the room a great cheer could be heard. A frenzy of feasting and drinking then erupted as the soldiers enjoyed their meal and become quite intoxicated. Belendor sat still, smiling and yet not eating. His Belendorian guard were the only ones to match his composure. After much laughter and cheers, the room emptied leaving only a few left. Belendor ushered them out, before pointing to one and beckoning him to sit down.
“You!” he commanded and smiled, “Sit with me.” He pointed towards a seat opposite him.
Looking around worriedly, the Horde soldier Dolan glanced around the room at all the Belendorians, nodded and pulled the seat out. After a moment of silence upon taking his seat he looked up to the fearsome Horde leader.
“Yes, sir?” he asked.
“Drink!” Belendor told him, pouring and pushing a cup towards him down the table, “You had officer training, I am to believe?” he inquired.
Cautiously Dolan took the offering in his hand; the cup seemed heavier than normal. He inspected it to see the wine a darker red than what had been at the feast. The cup itself was soft and white, almost like bone. Sipping it and biting his tongue he looked up to Belendor at the head of the table.
“That’s right sir. I trained in Thunderbluff’s academy of leadership, although my heart was never really in it.”
Belendor nodded back to him, “Leadership is not for all. But sometimes fate has a way of thrusting itself upon you. Today, I am your fate. With that traitor Voyonkor dead and me soon departing, this garrison needs a captain. Despite what I said prior, we still have enemies and we cannot be made to look weak. You are to be its captain.”
Dolan gulped, he could hardly refuse the dark Paladin. He looked around the room to see the expressionless mirrors of Belendor surrounding him, gripping their swords tightly as he watched them. Looking back up the table, he drank some more of the wine and nodded.
“Good” replied Belendor, “Now I can sense you have some questions. I shall answer them as I understand we have now always been clear with the people about our crusade. But first, please take the time to drink.”
As commanded Dolan took some more of the drink, he stopped for a moment. Lowering the cup from his sight he saw Belendor staring at him expectantly, he motion with his hand to carry on. Dolan then took a deep breath, closed his eyes and finished the drink. He wiped his mouth and became slightly dizzy, placing his hand on the table before focusing back to the paladin.
“As you may or may not have guessed, that drink was not your average win. It is a ceremony to mark yourself becoming a leader of the Horde. Or rather the new Horde, an agreement we have with the demons. Don’t worry, it may taste funny but the effects are meaningless.” He told Dolan, “Do you have any questions? Any concerns?”
Dolan thought for a moment, he seemed more confident now, and is lust for curiosity grew, “Can we trust these Demons? Sir? It seems we have given up so much. I have a family, the men all have families. We have lost good men purely from our campaign. Is it ours or is it theirs? The sacrifices we have given for what? We were at peace, it seems too much”.
Belendor nodded back and looked down, “Sacrifice? You tell me of sacrifice?” he then raised his face, Dolan jumped back slightly as Belendor’s eyes grew red, “Do you see the men around the room?”
Biting his lip the new Theramore captain looked around at the Belendorian guard who all simply glared back at him. He then nodded back to Belendor.
“You know not what they are. They are an agreement I made, a sacrifice. You see, I am not like normal men. Not now” he got up from his chair and walked around the table, his hands motioning around as he spoke, “I have powers. Not your average Paladin power either, empowered strength and magic. These guards around are reflections of myself. I needed this power to complete my goals, our goals, the goals of the Horde. Each of these men around you is a tribute; the Demon King Gorecleave accepted my offering.”
Trembling as Belendor approached, Dolan asked “What are they?” he looked around as their eyes began to glow as well.
Belendor kept walking towards to opposite end of the table, “They are my blood. They are my future. The future of my family line brought to now and sacrificed. My family has no future now outside of myself. Their power is mine and we shall rule together until the end.”
Dolan gasped, “You…you scarified your own family, your future generations? For your own power?!”
Belendor had now reached Dolan’s chair, he leered down and placed both hands on the arm rest forcing the soldier to squirm in his seat. The dark paladin’s eyes were now bloodshot red and his grin seemed wicked.
“For our power. What use does the Horde have for my children’s children now? Do not tell me of sacrifice when I have given everything for you. For us. For all of the Horde!” he yelled in the face of Dolan before getting up and turning his back.
Scared to the core, Dolan watched him walk away, “You’re crazy…This is too far, too much. What have you done sir? What have you done?”
Pausing for a moment and stopping, the words froze him. The same words Kapernakiss used. He shook and became cold, before clenching his fist, and pointed to the door.
“Enough stories, Dolan of Theramore. Take to your post and tell no one of this. My company leaves in the morning. Remember your role to play in this.” He instructed.
Dolan quickly jumped from his feet and ran for the door, sliding past the Belendorians who stood guard. Walking out in to the open night sky of Theramore, he gasped at the fresh air, he checked his hand to see it still shaking. He nodded and then shook his head in belief, and sprinted away from the keep.
Hearing Dolan running outside, Belendor returned to his seat. He looked around the room at the guards and put his hands on the table. The redness in his eyes drained away as they returned to normal and his head collapsed into his palms.
