Warcraft Fan Fiction ❯ Bloodstained Shadows - Chronicles of a Lost Soul ❯ The Kiss of Nightfall - Chapter 6 ( Chapter 36 )

Chapter 6:

 

 

"Yes, yes of course... you did wonderful.", those were the first words of Valanar after I came close to him.

"The master already informed me that you would come."

Why does everybody already know what's going to happen? Why does he only tell all of them what to do and I still have to ask them myself and then stand there like an idiot?

"The attacks at the outer line of defence have already started. Ghouls are charging the walls of New Avalon. Soon that city will fall just like Havenshire did."

Valanar takes a look over his shoulder.

"But, please... you see I'm rather busy here... would you mind to go to the crypt near the walls of New Avalon? My beloved brother Keleseth will surely tell you where you can help."

The elf takes his eyes off me immediately and focuses again on a new speech.

Talking to someone here always ends so ... abruptly.

I summon my deathcharger behind the little crowd of deathknights that are listening to the elf. For a moment all eyes turn to me again. I can clearly sense jealousy in their looks.

I let my horse turn around and slowly ride towards the south.

Every building in Havenshire is ablaze as I enter the village.

I can see geists roaming the empty buildings, jumping around playfully. Necromancers stand next to piles of bodies trying to find out which of them would be suitable for resurrection as a ghoul. They think about it for a seemingly endless amount of time only to abandon all their thoughts at one point and revive every single one of them in the end.

As I pass the sawmill and head for the fields, the earth is coated with a crust of curdled blood. Bodies are lying everywhere. I can hardly believe that most of them were cut down with my blade earlier today. It's an awkward feeling, but still... I feel proud about what I have done today.

I notice that I'm not far away from the crypt anymore. As I ride past the field I notice another pedestal directly in its middle and a man in a black robe with ash-grey hair, standing in front of it looking around the field.

Then he sees me and shortly waves at me. I have no idea what that man wants from me. Seconds later I hear him yelling at me, "Now get over here, you moron!"

I do as he wants and ride over to him.

He doesn't mind bursting out what he wants right away, this man could be to my liking... if he would stop insulting me. He first blabbers something about a plague cauldron that he is supposed to set up. Then he directs me to get a cauldron, some chains and a bag full of skulls for the brew.

I consider helping him on getting the stuff because I want to see the effects of his plague on this land, yet I develop a certain grudge against him because he keeps on calling me an idiot, that my brain was probably the first thing that rotted away and other things like that.

He is probably the stronger one ... at least for now. But I'll make him pay for these insults sooner or later. In the end he is only another cold-hearted idiot.

Nevertheless I agree to his task and ride on. The crypt is near, it`s only a few feet away from the field.

Shades are guarding the entrance, letting no one pass who is not connected to the Scourge.

I dismiss my unholy mount between the gravestones around the old stone building.

The moans of the ghouls that are charging at New Avalon draw my attention for a moment. A small army of disposable, undead creatures is attacking the crusaders. They were still able to hold their ground, yet more and more ghouls were coming from the ruins of Havenshire. I wonder how long both sides will be able to keep this up.

I then turn again and enter the crypt. The stairs take two turns before I come into the vault underneath the earth. I see more shades in here hiding in the corners, careful not to let the light from the torches shine on them. One of the larger geists of Acherus is hanging from the wall, with his one eye looking at me.

The man known as Baron Rivendare is standing in the back of the room next to his skeletal horse. So he actually left Mograines side?

The elf I was looking for stands close to him, a goblet filled with a red fluid in his hand, talking with him.

The two look like nobles that are having a chat about what they should eat today.

“You took your time, haven't you? But well... how can someone expect promptitude of a plain warrior like yourself.”, the elf smirks. “Yet again, I have to say... the blood of the crusaders you slew today tastes so sweet, so I have no reason to be mad at you. I'm far too much of an epicure.”

He takes a sip from the goblet. I want to interrupt him and come to the point.

“But of course you are not here for such chit-chat... I know, Malevolence - Pride of the Lich King.”

He overemphasized the name so much, anger arouses in my soul.

“Don't look at me like that. Because I made fun of you for a moment? Don't be so thin-skinned... Oh my...”, the elf takes a step towards me.

“Care for a taste?”, he holds out the hand with the goblet in it. I take a look over its rim, that liquid might actually be blood. He pulls his hand back, a bit offended that I do not respond at all to his `generous offer'.

“Forget about it...”, his voice is annoyed. I look at him bewildered, he hardly had left me any time to react. “You are here for duty and not for talking. I want you to attack the heart of the city directly. The authority has to fall. Kill the major and get me the registry of New Avalon. Spread the fear, show them that nobody is safe... that nobody can escape us... kill as many as you can. It doesn`t matter if they are old or young, strong or weak... soldier or civilian.”

I nod to the elf and leave the crypt. On my way out I asked myself if these elves could actually get drunk from blood...

So I should basically do the same like in Havenshire.

They want me to be their weapon, relentless and without hesitation.

I take the sword from my back and tighten my grip around its handle.

`Kill for me, my knight... offer their souls to Frostmourne.”

Blood will be shed soon. May it flow down the hill in small rivers and form a pond in the middle of the ruins of Havenshire.

The crusaders suppress their fear and keep on fighting. That is their biggest mistake. Every human with a bit common sense would have fled the area, but not the Scarlet Crusade..., those fools.

I make my way up the hill into the city of New Avalon. The guards at the outer walls are taken care of by our ghouls. Hundreds of them roam the area in search for food, mindless and without any feelings except for pain. Such fine soldiers for our march against the remains of the Crusade.

The guards of the Crusade don't even have enough leeway to focus on trying to prevent me from entering the city. There were just too many of our ghouls charging them. Two or three of their soldiers are able to come close to me, but they are too gravely injured to stand longer than a second. I cut down every imbecile that dares to approach me like this without looking at them.

It would be pointless to devote too much attention to them.

As I cut down the next guard I think about just skipping that one task for that strange angry guy in the middle of that field. I'm not too keen on carrying a cauldron out of here.

I make my way to the town hall. Two more guards try to stop me on my way. All I need for each of them is one clean strike. I wonder if this blade was really made of hardened Thorium, it cuts so easily through flesh and bones of my enemies. Or is this really just due to my own strength?

Around the town hall there is a small wall with a big iron gate. Yet this gate stands widely open. Numerous villagers are gathered around the building shouting things at it.

“You are worthless, Quimby!”

“Minions of the Scourge roam the streets of our city unhindered!”

“My whole family was killed, where was the army when we needed it the most!?”

Peasants, nothing more.. The door of the building is also wide open, and yet they all just stand on the outside asking questions and offering idle threats.

The Crusaders are slowly losing their faith in this organisation, at first the villagers and soon also the soldiers.

`Leave none alive!'

I simply enter the building ignoring everybody on the outside. They are far too busy with preparing their little insurrection to notice me. The rooms in the towns hall are quite extravagant. Nobody is in here except a fat old man who is standing with his back in my direction on the top of a little staircase in the back of the room.

In the usual way I do not try to hide myself, the armour would give me away sooner or later and I am fond of being able to kill any opponent that challenges me in the city of New Avalon.

Kicking away a chair that lies thrown over behind the man gives me away for sure.

I take my sword and plunge it into the back of the old man without a single moment of hesitation. Strange enough that the old man didn't even move an inch since I entered the building, but it also seems that he is swinging forward the moment my sword hits his body.

Then I notice the rope around his neck. The ceiling is rather low and two ceiling beams are close to each other in the back of the room.

That old bastard took the easy way out of this so he would neither have to face the Scourge nor the villagers!

His face is blue, almost violet. So he died due to suffocation, his neck not broken. At least he got the agonizing way of dying. Knowing this heightens my mood a little.

The villagers outside keep on shouting, oblivious to what had happened on the inside.

A real medic would still notice, but I decide to cut him down from there and defile the corpse a bit.

Cut off a limb here, drive my sword through the body once there, try to make it look as if he was tortured. This way it should be possible to claim responsibility for the Scourge after all.

After I'm done, I step over the mangled body and look around the bookshelves and tables for the registry.

After skipping through a few books I finally find the one I'm looking for.

On one of the first pages I read the words `Crimson Dawn'. I sounds strange but I don't think about it too much. I simply don't care. If this is of importance somebody will tell me sooner or later what it means. After all..., my next action would be of far more importance for my current task. Go out there and kill as many villagers as possible.

I leave the building with the book bound to my back. I assume it would be safest to keep it there where I usually carry my weapon.

As I step outside the first villagers notice me. They start screaming upon my sight. Blood is dripping from the edge of my sword. A terrible premonition unfolds in their minds. I keep walking slowly towards the crowd. Reality is painful for them... nobody is safe, not the villagers, not the military, ... not even their 'oh-so-great' major.

The moment I raise my blade the villagers panic. Some of them seem paralyzed, others try to flee. They run around like headless chickens.

'Mercy is for the weak!'

The sword cuts through the air. It sings its song of death and destruction as it rips apart flesh and bones. The screams of the humans in panic are the orchestra playing in the background.

'More...! I want MORE BLOOD!'

The red fluid is scattered through the air. Some of the elder ones die right in front of me before I can even lay a hand on them. Humans are so fragile, so incapacitated, ... and yet people like these are often the ones to cry out loud as the first ones. Insulting, cursing, threatening, that's all they can do..., once it gets to the real thing they all fall like flies.

The voice in my head turns to a mere mad laughter.

None of them has any weapons. After a few minutes a guard who is patrolling through the city comes charging at me as he sees what I am doing. As if one guard is able to stop me.

With a single strike my weapon severs his right arm off his body. Blood pours out of the open wound, spurts of it hit my face. The man is lying in front of me in his scarlet armour, screaming for help.

I have no intention to end his misery quickly.

A pool of blood forms underneath the wincing body. I pass him, careful not to step onto him. If he survives, he will probably become a hero of the Crusade. Another misconception made by these fanatics. Making cripples to their sacred heroes of battle, even though they only survived because they weren't enough of an opponent for their enemy.

Like lambs to the slaughter...

Their dream of a `Scarlet Paradise' was destroyed before it could even fully unfold.

The streets of the city are almost completely empty. The few villagers that are left after the attacks on Havenshire sit in their homes, the windows and doors barricaded as good as they could, shivering in fear. And the military is busy enough with keeping the ghouls out of New Avalon.

Regarding the empty streets I decide to go to the forge after all and have a look if I find a suitable chain. Whatever a `suitable chain' would be...

I take the first one I find and leave the forge, I`m not too keen on searching something for so long for that offensive bastard in the fields. I then hurry over to the large building between the two breaches in the town walls. The shield hanging besides the front door points out that this is a inn. I should find at least a small cauldron in the kitchen.

Unfortunately for me, there are only big ones. I curse once and take one of them. It's heavier than it looks at the first glance. I actually drag it behind me instead of carrying it for most of the way.

The guards at the gate are again far too caught up handling the attacking ghouls. So that I can easily slip through. I wonder if me just walking in and out of the city affects the moral of the soldiers fighting there.

I drag the cauldron to the fields of Havenshire, the chains lying inside it.

The necromancer looks at me and what I bring to him.

“You dumb bastard! You forgot the skulls for the brew! You're as useless as a foul, rotten ghoul!”

I turn around and leave him behind me, shouting and yelling at me how worthless I am in his eyes.

I feel how rage consumes me. Taking the sword from my back, I turn again and approach the man.

“What do you still want here, useless fool? Go out there and collect the skulls I need!”

I hold my hand forth and concentrate. Soon I hear a digging sound and a ghoul climbs out of the earth.

“I LIKE GLITTER!”, he utters upon standing up straight. This is the first undead minion I have called forth.

I grab the last tuft of hair on the head of the ghoul and drag him to the cauldron as I look at the necromancer.

“You know what this is?” I ask him with an angry, provoking voice.

The man takes a short look over his shoulder to the fortress of Acherus and remains silent.

“That is a ghoul created from a warrior of the Scarlet Crusade...”

With a swift strike of my blade the head of the ghoul is cut off into the cauldron. It's body tumbles backwards and falls over.

“There you go. One skull of a Crusader... MAKE THE OTHER ONES YOURSELF!”

I turn around and leave the old man standing there without another word.

I'm still furious as I enter the crypt.

If that elf should say one single word to provoke me, I'm sure I will try to slice him up.

To my surprise the elf reacts totally different to what I have expected. He seems to be... actually friendly in a kind of way.

“What a pleasant surprise. You are back already...”

I show him the registry.

“Give it to me!”, the elf demands. “This is a fairly important piece of information.”, he says as he skips through the pages. “Birth, as well as death rate of the cities and villages Havenshire, New Avalon and Tyr's Hand and far more important... logistics.”

Keleseth takes a mouthful of , I assume, blood from the goblet standing on the table.

“Now let us find out where they are heading to...” The elf is staring at a page with coordinates and mumbles something indefinable.

“They... are heading for Northrend? Which fool would deliver his people directly into the heart of the frozen wastes?”

Keleseth reads aloud another two words written onto the page.

“Crimson Dawn”