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"Are you prepared to meet your end alone, unlamented, unsung, on foreign shores?" Jothaem's retort was not borne of malice. The old man spoke simple fact as he stared at Asuryan with his slate-colored eyes; grey as his beard and the iron of his body. There was no lack of vigor in those limbs which had seen three wars and defended Lordaeron for six decades.
Asuryan shook his head. Then he smiled. "I, alone, cannot change the wanderings of the stars." His attentions turned upwards, lingering upon the radiant heavens. There was the eternal glory of creation; luminous and awe-inspiring. A thousand points of light shone through an ebon curtain, lighting the darkness.
His fist clenched into his palm and fingernails coaxed forth droplets of blood.
"I can only destroy them where they dance."
Jothaem was shaking his head. "Sometimes adrenaline gives people the shakes; some might think it's cowardice, so maybe you'd want to pray about it."
Asuryan looked nonplussed. While his cousin had been famed, renowed for his piety even, Asuryan was not that man. He was the metaphorical son of Arthas Menethil; raised by the spectre of a man whose gory conquests carved across Azeroth a canyon of blood and gore unseen since the days of Doomhammer and Blackhand. "I put little stock in prayer," he told Jothaem. "For the things I have seen men do in the Light's name--"
But Jothaem interjected. "There's nothing wrong with prayer. Your cousin and I, we knew a dwarven soldier who always carried a sigil of Aman'Thul next to his heart. We used to mock him, but that piece of metal stopped the bullet from a Goblin arquebus."
"Let the Lightbringer stand as my witness. That pendant stopped a bullet, would of ruined that dwarf's heart. And had he had another pendant in front of his face, he would be alive today."
It was a rainy day, perfect for the occasion. Lordaeron's last bastion of humanity held out ever vigilant against the Undead. They had lost their leaders to murder and betrayal, Abbendis and Marjhan murdered in cold blood by the dreaded Eligor "Dameslayer" Dawnbringer and Tirion "Oathbreaker" Fordring. "They'll never break through the defenses, my de-" Sally stopped him, the man had odd, grey, hair. Whitemane frowned "Don't call me that, you aren't my Renault, and you never will be. I picked you because you're the best soldier we had, I'd replace you in an instant." She showed no remorse for what she had said, no compassion for this elf-haired Paladin. The Priestess leaned against her stave, the cindercloth robes complenting her nicely. "The Argent star shall never fly across the Monastery, we shall never retreat." Her voice broke a tad, remembering Southshore.
And there they were, the "Heros" Of the Argent Crusade so angrily attacked her men, laughing as they begged for mercy. "BRING THE WOMEN TO LORD ELIGOR, HE HAS SPECIAL PLANS FOR THEM." The man gave a sickening cackle. Whitemane glared at the false Paladin, the traitor to his Kingdom and the Light. With a almost wickedly grin she yelled, in Commander Mograine's memory, "Infidels, they must be purified!" The soldiers of the Crusade, trainie to Crimson Legion, bowed to her command and slaughtered the Argent soldiers. The Argent star fell, burned before the Commander "Lord Eligor shall have your head, just as he had Marjhan and Abbendis'...." She was overcome with rage "STRIKE HIM DOWN, NOW. SEND HIS HEAD TO ELIGOR AS A MESSAGE, WE SHALL NOT FALL TO HIS PATHETIC CRUSADE!" The cry echoed through the Monastery. Her "Champion" Struck the man down, holding his head by his hairs "Now why couldn't you save Mograine like that?" She sighed, retiring to blessing the dead in her chambers.
There she resided, moving her hand along Renault's face "Soon, my Champion, soon." She was near tears, losing everything she had worked for. She returned outside hours later, relighting the candles, starting her sermon. "Brothers and Sisters of Lordaeron, we are abandoned, the crimes the Argents attempted to commit against us this day are proof enough." She paused for a moment "The Alliance is yet to send reinforcements, but we shall pray that they do." The crimson stave glowed with holy energy "We pray for Lord Mograine, struck down by the Scourge in Strathlome, my dearest Renault slandered and murdered by the Argent's mercenaries." She shook her head "We pray for Grand Crusade Dathrohan, Marjhan, and of course Abbendis. However misguided she may have been." She frowned "Light, may the Ashbringer be returned to our hands, so we can exact your will upon the spawns of Shadow and Fel. Light, keep Commander Mograine at peace, and may he never be risen in Undeath." The Sermon went on for another two hours.
And there he was, Eligor Dawnbringer, Marjhan and Abbendis' horrified expression mounted on his shoulderguards. "These two made the mistake of now bowing to my will, Harlot." Whitemane twitched, the words echoing through her head as her soldiers closed in on him "You shall be joining them soon." Whitemane, barely hiding the tears, replied "Have you no honor? No pride or loyalty to your Kingdom? You follow a traitor to the Light and Lordaeron, the greatest of all Kingdoms!" She continued "And you call me a Harlot? Look at your women, you must force them to bend to you or end up like ours?" The man laughed "OF COURSE THEY DO, NOTHING MORE THAN BREEDING STOCK." He grinned savagely "And honor? I've lived without honor my entire life, pride? Something I gave up long ago. Loyalty? I am loyal to Lord Fordring." Whitemane couldn't bare it anymore "ATTACK, MY CHAMPIONS! SHOW THIS HEATHEN NO MERCY, HE IS NOTHING MORE THAN A TRAITOR." The Scarlets closed around him when Eligor's troops came in, outnumbering them eight to one. "As I said, Harlot, I have no honor." He laughed walking off.
The Scarlets were slaughtered, not being able to withstand the assault. Lilian Voss, traitor to humanity and the Light watched with glee as she went with Eligor her hideous rotting body in his horrible arms. It didn't hurt, Eligor had left the Light. Whitemane felt a tear run down her face "No more... The Grey Star shall not fly over the Monastery." As Eligor's soldiers and mercenaries closed it around her, using all of her skills as she could but to no avail. The novas slaughtered many of them but she tired soon, barely able to cast the most basic of spells. "I am sorry, Renault. So...Sorry." She cried as the sacred blades beheaded her, another for Eligor's collection.
I CAN MAKE STORY BUMPS TOO, ELD.
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