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Default The fall of Vanlon. - 10-11-2010, 03:37 PM

I decided to chance my miserable life and write a Warcraft fic. Guess who it concerns? Yep, you got that right!


It was a dark night in the Western area of the Western Plaguelands. Or at least, the very, very eastward part of the Tirisfal Glades. It was also southernly to the point of trespassing on the Alterac Mountains, which explained the snowy white covering on the rooftops and ground.

Lady Sylvanas Windrunner, the Banshee Queen of the Forsaken, was standing in the center of the town of Vanlon's main hall. Her armour barely made a sound, even though it should have clinked, and somehow she was unnaturally dark, even in the well-lit room. The glowing red coals that passed for her eyes stood out against her blackness, as did the glowing bow she was holding. Several bodies were still lying around, and were in the process of being dragged out by undead soldiers in Forsaken colours.

Up until a few hours ago, the town had belonged to the Scarlet Crusade. They'd felt very high and mighty behind their stone walls and inside their petty fortifications, until the Banshee Queen herself arrived at the front gates. Everything had basically gone to pot from there onwards. All those who hadn't run like dogs had died like dogs. It had been a very short battle.

Sylvanas glowered around, to make sure no one was slacking off. She raised a long eyebrow at a Forsaken who was eating one of the dead crusaders. The Forsaken henceforth dragged his disgusting choice of meal out of the hall.

Oh well.

One more body disposed of with fitting disregard for the deceased's dignity.

Sylvanas turned on her heel, and stalked across the room to where Archmage Darral was examining several dusty-looking books. Evidently, the books were magical. Also evident was their lack of use. Typical of the light-blinded fools of the crusade to distrust the arcane. When Darral saw Sylvanas approaching, he quickly put on a fake smile.

"Well? What of the enchantments surrounding Dalaran? Is there anything that can pierce their cretinous bubble here, or have I wasted my time driving out the crusaders?" Sylvanas barked at Darral.

"Hardly a waste, Dark Lady. At least now the crimson curs no longer hold it."

"It is a waste because I have not enough troops to garrison this fort, and it was acting as a buffer that was preventing the Scourge from moving any further towards the ruined capitol from this direction. Those books had better hold something that makes such a waste worthwhile, Archmage."

"Eer... uh... no, no they don't, I am afraid. They are valuable, but-"

"What do you MEAN, they don't!?"

"Dark Lady, I am sorry, but I doubt there is any way to pierce the shield. It was not my idea to come here seeking these tomes, you know."

"No it wasn't. But you validated the Warlock's claims, did you not? Nonetheless, the Banshee Queen forgives you."

Sylvanas span around without another word, and walked away from Darral. Darral, for his part, almost groaned with relief. He'd expected something rather more painful than a mere conversation from Sylvanas, but as he'd somehow escaped with his life, he chose not to push it, and contained the sigh.

Sylvanas was almost back to the spot where she started, when a small Forsaken, who had obviously been an adolescent in life, came rushing through the doors, and headed directly to the Queen. This would not have been unusual. One did not take his time when delivering news to the Dark Lady. What was unusual was the fact that he was drenched in blood and appeared to be singed.

Sylvanas fixed him with her glowing stare as he approached. The stare said, "What hastens you?".

The reply came quickly. The Forsaken sank to his knees, and began babbling at Sylvanas' knees. The room went quiet, and dozens of curious stares were directed towards the newcomer.

"They... too many... I... Coming here!"

"What? Speak slowly!"

"We... Scouting party... We were patrolling north... Army of..."

Sylvanas was interested now. She picked the babbling idiot up by his shoulder and set him down again in front of her. She squeezed his arm, allowing the sharp fingertips of her metal gloves to dig into his flesh. She glowered at his downturned head, willing him to look at her. And as though mind controlled, he obeyed, staring fearfully back into Sylvanas' gaze.

"Army of?"


"What kind?"


"How many?"

"Several hundred."

Sylvanas released him, finished with her questioning. The spell was immediately broken, and the Forsaken went back into panic mode. Sylvanas ignored him, and began issuing orders as the room came back to life around her. There was much babble of "We're doomed" "There are too many" and "We'll never be gone in time".

"Barricade all of the doors. Call all friendly units into this building immediately. Set fire to the other buildings."

"Are we going to hold out in this hall, my queen?"

"Absolutely not. The barricades are a distraction. We are going to have our Goblin support teams rig this place for a journey straight to hell. By the time they get through the barricades, they'll be going with it."

The Forsaken were suddenly buzzing, carrying out their Queen's orders to the letter. Several short green people with long, pointy ears appeared, and began setting up an array of obscenely large bombs in the center of the room. Sylvanas walked to the plinth at the east wall, to avoid spooking the engineers and being blown up. Which would, of course, be unfortunate and annoying. None of the Forsaken bothered to ask Sylvanas were they were going after the bombs were set up and the Scarlet Army arrived. She had led each and every one of them into certain death before, and they'd always come back alive. At least, most of them.


“I mean a weapon you hold. You have a gun, Tanith has a sword... I want a stick.” ~ Valkyrie Cain
“I’ll buy you a stick for Christmas.” - Skulduggery Pleasant

Last edited by Miranda_ : 10-11-2010 at 04:41 PM.
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