“Sh…t,” Niamh gasps in horror as her small unit arrives at the dockside what feels like half an eternity after the frantic ringing of the alarm bells. The horses whicker and prance nervously as they scent the Scourge miasma. The plague fog has been lying like a thick veil over the city, nay, over all of Azeroth for weeks now. Necropoli threaten the simple villages and capitals, but the sight that presents itself to the young woman and her comrades through the brownish mist surpasses anything they have seen before.
“Sh…t,” agrees her sister with an eerie calm. Immediately she gives her black warhorse Dubhlainn the sign to engage. Niamh, the other fighters and healers follow. There is no time for sentimentality or gathering panoramic impressions. Abominations have spread across the docks like mangy rats, relentlessly battling the city guards who have been worn down by combat, losses, and double shifts over the past few days, against the undead patchwork horrors of the Lich King. Like a hot knife through butter, the Scourge slides through the weary ranks of the Alliance, but neither of the opposing forces seem to concede ground. Arthas has vast numbers; the citizens of Stormwind still have something worth fighting for.
“There will be no second Stratholme,” Niamh hears John’s words in her mind. “This time we will stay until the en-…”
The comforting familiar voice is silenced as another, icy voice forces its way into Niamh’s mind.
„FOOLS OF STORMWIND! HEAR ME, NAIVE CHILDREN OF THE ALLIANCE! TREMBLE AND KNOW YOUR DOOM, FOR THE LICH KING’S GAZE IS FIXED UPON YOU!“
Punch shies away briefly as the Argent Knight gives him confused signals with a startled jerk of the reins. “Sh…t,” she repeats. A movement in the sky forces her weary gaze upward. “Aside!” she yells instinctively. A flash of blue lightning races down at them. The riders scatter but one steed rears up in panic, neighing hysterically. Metal strikes stone, followed by a crash that goes through marrow and bone. Static charges through the survivors like a thunderstorm, icy cold makes their breath clouds, Niamh’s neck hair stand on end. She dares only a brief sideways glance at the spot where her fellow soldier lost his life in the attack from the clouds. Once again, she sends a shouted prayer to the light, a phrase that has recently been uttered so much more often than „We‘ll get through this.“ So much more often that Niamh has begun to doubt this mantra. Of Niamh‘s originally assigned group, only she and Liv are left, and it‘s been close enough more than once that there had been reason for doubt here, too.
Another glance at the sky. The tail of the gigantic frost wyrm whips as the behemoth searches in a wide arc for a new target. Screaming, the four remaining fighters in the saddle duck, though the bony, blue-glowing rear end fans out far above their heads. Niamh’s gaze follows the dragon, with horror in her eyes she perceives grim necropoli descending from the mist above the harbor. The harbor darkens, night falls, early morning. Icy blue casts an eerie glow on the armor of fighters and horses. Again, Niamh’s gaze jerks back to the nearer threat, where verbetrae after verbetrae seems to fill the dragon‘s spine with radiant blue frost energy, finally discharging in another flash onto a dwarven tank. The sturdy vehicle bursts like a soap bubble. A garish purple glow forces bystanders to briefly close their eyes, and two monstrosities appear at the spot where three dwarves are struggling to get out of the fighting vehicle. They don’t stand a chance.
“Go,” Niamh gasps, giving Punch the sign to move, there’s work to be done. The remaining three do likewise. It will not be the last battle to be fought.
"Enough! I will not stand for this!“ thunders Varian’s voice across the harbor. " I’ll kill every last one of your pawns, Lich King! Take your flying fortresses back to Northrend before I crush them with my bare hands!“
An oppressive silence spreads. As if the voice of the King alone had power over Arthas and his minions, the attacks subside. Two frost wyrm raptors defiantly leave another trail of ice and lightning before abandoning the harbor and its defenders and sailing away to the north. The necropoli disappear behind the bank of mist and clouds from which they appeared. The remaining patchwork horrors collapse in on themselves like puppets that have had their leading strings cut. In unison and full of disbelief, dozens, no hundreds of combatants lower their weapons. They stumble, fall wearily to their knees, while the forces of the Lich King march away like whipped dogs.
“Why not sooner?” whispers Niamh wearily, dropping to her knees and hands. She feels her sister’s hand running through her blood-stained hair. Liv appears to want to say something, but again, icy words resound in her mind, leaving them speechless.
„ARGH! THIS SMALL VICTORY WILL AVAIL YOU NOTHING! COME! COME TO NORTHREND. MY MINIONS ARE WAITING, AND THEY ARE HUNGRY…“
It was not the last battle to be fought. Northrend is waiting.
NORTHREND AWAITS
Time has come. Varian and the forces of the Alliance have unveiled Arthas’ plans. After sending another plague, threatening our continents with his necropoles and foes, trying to stop the armed forces before they could set of to the icy continent in the North with frost wyrms and abominations - time has come. Ships will set sail the night of the 26th to 27th of the 9th month. Everyone who can hold a weapon, holds a grudge against the Lich King or has other reasons to join the united forces may gather at Stormwind’s harbour to enroll in time and board a ship.
https:// discord. com/ channels/ 760554863921987634/1022471612064354314
((The event will start next Monday, after 8 pm - at Stormwind’s harbour. Just join, bring your luggage, armour and weapons and will. Enrollments/plot registrations will not be played IC, just sign up in the public Lilies’ channel above, which will be used for updates and can be used for stories and information. Of course, you are invited to the welcome-wotlk-event on Monday, even if you don’t plan to participate in the plot or your level is too low to directly head to Northrend! It’s all for fun!
After boarding the ‘real ship’ to the Tundra, you may continue playing ooc - as mentioned earlier, the plot will be delayed to allow everyone to discover the cold lands for at least a few levels.
Looking forward to all of this!!))
