"Mark Vegas was dreaming of alcohol and easy medics"
-~CattleBruiser~
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| WarCraft: Outbreak Chapter Two | | | Author: | | | IP: | bess-proXXXX | | Date: | 09/26/02 10:09 | | Game Type: | Warcraft 3 | | Labels: | none | | Report Rating: , # of Ratings: 1, Max: 7, Min: 7
Lifetime Rating for Merkava: 7.0000 |  | I was told several times I would die a horrible death if I didn't continue, and, fearing for my very life, I put this up, nicely titled Chapter Two.
Chapter Two
The Cathedral of Lordaeron was a dark, gothic structure that rivaled the Royal Palace in stature and grace. Built to honor those who had given their lives to protect Lordaeron and the Alliance during the Second War, it contrasted with the rebuilt Palace, reminding people of the despair of the early days of the war, of young men lost to axe and fist and Dragon fire, of entire cities burned to the ground, all inhabitants brutally murdered, opposed in every way to the triumphant feeling exuded by the Royal Home.
The Royal Family, after much searching and wondering where Lazarus had gone and why he hadn’t informed Sir Uther the Lightbringer of their arrival, found the Paladin in a small sanctuary far below the main one, where tens of thousands worshipped daily. The aging, grizzled old Paladin was on both knees in front of the altar, deep in prayer. He stayed that way for nearly an hour, never moving, nothing more than a wordless murmur ever reaching it to the ears of Terenas and Arthas.
The two waited patiently, also silent, until Uther rose, turning to meet them. “Greetings, friends,” he said, a smile on his face. “May the Light protect you. What brings you here today?”
“You do not know?” Terenas asked, a troubled look flashing over his face for a moment. “Hasn’t Lazarus contacted you? I sent him out hours ago to tell you I was coming and the reason. A… situation… has developed in Dura.”
“I know,” Uther said. “I have my own sources of information, and several brothers of the Order in the north have reported the disease and the Troll raids to me.”
“So you know how serious this is,” Terenas said, and Uther nodded. “I need a team of Paladin who can heal and fight, Sir Uther, and I need it today. If the Court forces a vote before the men leave… they could be halted, Uther, and that would be disastrous. The north could be wiped out by this plague, and if it spreads… how many men will this take?”
“Three. I have had a team assembled for a week or so, waiting for you to come. And yes, all of them are Second War veterans, leaders of decorated units. All of them helped eradicate the diseases in Azeroth that came through the Dark Portal from Draenor or were caused by the Orc’s dark magics. They are the best available, and I believe you will be pleased.”
“Your men sound fine, Sir Uther, but who are they?” Terenas asked. “I have no doubt they are all very qualified to go on this mission, but I’d like to draw my own conclusions.”
“Of course, Majesty,” Uther said. “The team consists of Sir Aias the Warrior, who led a regiment in Quel’Thalas, Sir Acetes the Healer, a Paladin decorated for his work in combat and healing in Khaz Modan, and Sir Badon the Quick, who still holds the Imperial Lordaeron Army record for siege, a man who fought as brave and fiercely as any during the siege of Black Rock Spire.” He stopped, staring at a spot on the wall behind Terenas’ shoulder where the wallpaper had worn through, exposing the wood. “Do you agree with my selections?”
“Did you consult Archbishop Faol about this?” Arthas asked, chin-in-hand, thinking.
“The Archbishop is currently in Dalaran, on vacation,” Uther said. “He’s older than you, Majesty, and has worked every day for the past two decades to build the Order of the Silver Hand into what it is today. His health finally began to falter last week. We sent him to Dalaran to recuperate, and from the letters we’ve been receiving, he’s doing marvelously.”
“Glad to hear it,” Terenas said. “We’ll need him in the days to come, if the disease in Dura spreads.”
“Aye,” Uther said. A frown crossed his face, and he said, “is something wrong, Arthas?”
The prince frowned as well, still deep in thought. “All three are excellent men,” but I wonder if there aren’t better. All of them are from Lordaeron. Perhaps if we waited a few days, brought in men from outside the city… Sir Bedragon ”
“We don’t have the time,” Terenas replied. “The men must leave today, or the Court could bring up a vote…”
“Lets’ go get those three and get to the barracks, then,” Uther said. “The Court will convene its afternoon session soon, and Terenas has to be there to report on the… reports from the provincial governments.”
He left the room, leaving Arthas and Terenas alone. “None of those three stands out from the hundreds of others who distinguished themselves during the effort to save us all during the Second War. The Warrior and The Healer are common suffixes, as well, and The Quick is not very distinctive, either.”
Terenas thought for a moment. “I see,” he said. “Nevertheless, Sir Uther chose them, and I trust his judgment just as much, if not even more, than I do yours. If he says they’re up to the job, then they’re up to the job. I’m more concerned about the force Talys is assembling than the men Sir Uther has chosen to lead it. If they falter, the men under them can pick up the slack. If the soldiers can’t do the job, there’s nothing any leader can do about it.”
“Lord Lothar and Lord Khadgar could, I expect,” Arthas said stubbornly, but both of them knew he had lost the (mostly) friendly argument.
Terenas let him down gently. “Yes, but they aren’t here, are they? They gave their lives for all Humans, Elves, Dwarves, and all other life on this world. Others have also given their lives, and still do so. Uther, myself, you…”
“I understand, father,” Arthas said. He sighed, “You’re right.” He
Terenas nodded. A few minutes later, Uther returned with three men in light Paladin armor, one in his late thirties, another quickly approaching fifty, and the last appeared to be at least as old as Uther himself. “Majesties,” they murmured, kneeling.
“Rise,” Terenas said. “You are all noble, pious men. I know you will make all of us proud.” They nodded. “Onto the barracks then, shall we?”
* * *
Lordaeron’s primary barracks was as imposing as the Cathedral, bright as the Palace, and ugly as sin, Arthas decided. It had been built as a temporary structure when the Orcs were knocking on (and down) the gates of Lordaeron herself, and had been renovated and expanded a dozen times since then. It was an eyesore, sitting among the stately trees in the king’s private grounds beside the Palace, and the two buildings were almost constantly being added on to, in a vain attempt to overshadow one another.
If he harbored any resentment towards the fact that yet another massive wing had just been added to the Palace, while the military budget had shrunk every year since the end of the Second War, Chevalier Talys showed none of it as he warmly greeted the group when they arrived. “Glad to see you, especially you, Terenas,” the short, gray-haired general said, hands resting on a gut that had slowly expanded over the years, no matter hard the general had tried to prevent it. “Terrible business up north, I formed the unit as soon as I got the message,” he said, trying to make his jovial voice somber, and failing spectacularly. “We’ll get you fine men to them and send you off,” he said, looking at Aias. “If you’ll follow me…”
He led them through a warren of offices and locker rooms, rushing past Majors and Colonels with more medals and insignia displayed than could possibly exist; men who fawned and bowed and fell over each other to get out of the way, but also to suck up to the king and prince as much as possible. The enlisted men, the “real fighters,” as Talys called them, didn’t noticed the group, and if they did, bowed their heads just long enough to be respectful before going back to sharpening their swords and flattening out dents in shields and armor. One thing Terenas noted was the lack of men in their late thirties and early forties; namely, Second War veterans.
When he asked Talys about it, the old General said, “I assumed you would want the veterans in the battalion you’re sending into the frozen wastes of the north, so I assigned every nine out of ten veterans to this expedition. I trust it meets with your approval?”
“Just how large is this battalion you’ve formed, General?” Arthas asked.
“Well, a normal battalion has five hundred men in it, but I’ve determined through our intelligence reports that Zuljin commands anywhere from one hundred to four hundred renegades. Knowing this, I tripled the size of the battalion to fifteen hundred. Zuljin knows how to use the terrain; no, he knows the terrain. Intimately. With a force that would be near the size of a normal battalion, he could easily defeat anything we sent up there, if it was that small. Let’s say he has three hundred renegades. Could they beat five hundred men?” Talys paused, then started before anyone could respond. “Of course they could. But three hundred against fifteen hundred? Not even Anduin Lothar could beat those odds.”
“But Alliance armies of fifty, seventy thousand beat Orc forces upwards of two or three hundred thousand during the war,” Arthas said. “And we won the Second War.”
”There’s a difference between hundreds, low thousands, and tens or hundreds of thousands,” Talys said. “The Orcs had a million men, we had anywhere between four and five hundred thousand. By fighting a war of attrition, cutting Orc sea and land supply lines, and finally attacking where they were weak, we cut their armies off from one another and won the war. One force five times the size of another one will win ninety-nine out of one hundred times. Warfare on a global scale is nothing like the small action this will be. Remember that, young prince.”
Arthas fell silent; he’d lost two arguments in one morning, and that wouldn’t sit well with anyone, much less a young man barely out of his teens, Arthas’ Paladin training aside.
“Here we are,” Talys said, opening an ornate wooden door in front of them that led to a crude stone balcony overlooking a dirt-covered courtyard. “Practice field,” the general said. “Better than tearing up the Palace grounds,” he said, the tone in his voice saying he wouldn’t mind the Palace grounds being torn up a bit.
Three columns of Footmen stood at attention in the field, each column made up of thirty rows ten men deep. In between the columns three hundred Knights kept their steeds steady, an occasional command or the crack of a whip reaching the balcony, followed by the distressed neigh of a horse. The men seemed agitated, but remained still.
“Dwarven Riflemen!” Terenas exclaimed. “How did you get permission from Khaz Modan so quickly?”
“The ambassador to the Alliance was meeting with me when your message came,” Talys said. “He gave tentative approval, so I gathered all the Dwarven servicemen I could find, which was two hundred and fifty-seven, to be exact. Those Blunderbuss rifles are the equal of any arrow or throwing axe.”
“Doesn’t the reload time require defensive tactics when using large numbers of them?” Arthas asked; he’d been studying strategy and the Second War in recent months.
“Not really,” Talys replied. “Experienced Riflemen are quite adept at reloading and firing. The best can fire ten rounds a minute easily. I hear they’re working on clips and bolt-action firing at Ironforge, so all you have to do is work the bolt until the clip runs out. It sounds very exciting, and we may phase Archers out of the Army soon, in favor of the rifle.”
“Sounds great,” Arthas said. “So who commands this battalion?” He sounded eager, as if he was looking for a way to get command of the battalion himself if he did not approve of who would lead it.
“Unofficially, the Paladin,” Talys said. “Officially, Major Dahn Asche. He should have my job,” the General said, chuckling, “but he loves being out in the field too much. He’s refused dozens of promotions over the years. Lied about his age to join the army in the Second war. He’s only thirty-three now…”
“Then let’s go meet him,” Terenas said. “By the by, the Knights are a separate unit within the battalion, correct?”
“Yes.”
“Who commands them?”
”Sir Albrecht Zander.”
Silence filled the balcony. “Let’s go meet Major Asche,” Talys said uncomfortably.
Terenas fought the urge to take the General aside and ask him just what the hell he was doing putting Zander back in the field. I should have chained that man to a desk when his case came before me, the King thought angrily. The mission hadn’t even started, and already uncontrollable variable was making itself known. If this is about that new wing… If it was, the General would not be happy when Terenas dealt with him.
* * *
Talys led them down a winding staircase and through another series of offices and storage rooms, until he opened a wrought-iron door that opened onto the dusty field. No one had moved, save one Footman with a Major’s stars and a Knight with Captain’s stripes. “Asche and Zander,” Talys murmured. “Two opposite ends of the spectrum, they are.”
“Why did you assign him, General?” Aias asked softly.
The group stopped. “Because,” Talys said, “he’s been meeting with Archbishop Zerod and the King’s manservant, Lazarus, far too often as of late. He has no reason to be within miles of either. I want him away from Lordaeron, where he can’t do much.” The General cursed, spitting on the ground contemptuously. “He’s going to do a formal salute.”
Zander was now on top of his horse, warhammer drawn. “Attention!” he roared. A thousand swords clanked as they were brought up into attack position. “Honor!” they yelled, a tidal wave of sound cascading over the group. “Present—arms!” The swords shifted, until they were pointed at the blue flag of Lordaeron that fluttered at the top of the highest tower of the barracks. “Pride!
“Loyalty!” Fifteen hundred hands shot up in salute, stopping inches from helmeted foreheads of the men. “Look at that smile on his face,” Arthas muttered. “He’s mocking us.”
“We can’t do much about it,” Terenas said.
“At ease!” Zander turned and smiled at them. “Majesty,” he said.
The major, Asche, stepped up to the group.
“Dahn,” Uther said.
“Uther,” the officer replied.
Arthas leapt forward, ready to remind the major of his place, but Uther merely nodded, and the prince stopped, confused. “Dahn and I fought together in the Second War,” Uther explained. “We saved each other’s lives many times.” He and Asche wrapped each other up in a bearhug.
“I see,” Arthas said.
Uther nudged the King. “I think a speech is in order,” he whispered. Terenas realized the men in the field were looking at him, and he coughed, stepping out in front of the group and clearing his throat. “I hope General Talys has told you about the situation in Dura, and how dire it is, and if he has, it certainly won’t hurt you to hear it again.
“You all know of the Troll, Zuljin. His raids on the Elves in the Second War are legendary. When the war ended, he eluded capture and disappeared into the forests of Quel’Thalas. Since then, attacks on both sides of the border have come and go over the years. But now, his assaults have grown too bold to ignore, or to write off the Elves’ problem.” Terenas had felt tired earlier, but speaking to fighting men again had revitalized him.
“In addition, the problem with Zuljin is compounded by the fact that a plague clearly caused by some dark magic is spreading through Dura. It has nearly wiped out the villages in the forests and the countryside, and Durasbrad itself is threatened.”
A ripple of mutters spread through the column, then all was silent.
“There is nothing to fear, though,” Terenas continued. “A team of Paladins are going to accompany you to Dura. All of them have healed illnesses caused by the opening of the Dark Portal and the Orcish invasion, along with natural diseases. If you fall ill, they have the knowledge, the skill, and the will to heal you. And they will.
“The situation in Dura has grown desperate. You are badly needed, and will depart as soon as I am done speaking. May the light protect and bless you.”
The cheer began as a low rumble, but it quickly exploded into a roar. Terenas watched, smiling. Only Aias noticed, but Zander was the only one who wasn’t. |
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