"You have become old, Khadgar." A haunting voice whispered in his ears, echoing with dark accusations. "Weak and frail... In front of you is the kingslayer, yet you could do nothing!"
"Nonsense, everything is because of you, Master." Khadgar shook off the eerie whispers, but they lingered in the depths of his mind like a haunting melody. Beads of sweat continued to trickle down his forehead as he recalled the intense battle with Medivh, no, the demon that had possessed his master. It had consumed his life force, and yet he survived, but at a cost. The once vibrant and youthful body he possessed had now turned old and frail. It was only through magic that he could keep the aftereffects of their battle well hidden. Yet, his eyes shone with a determination that defied his weakened state as he gazed at his friend, Garona.
She lay on the ground, shackled by nailed chains that pierced her body. Between them stood a massive line of orcs, ready to pounce on him in a moment's notice. Dominating the savage brutality of the orcs was a towering figure, with tied white hair and a massive build, gripping a bloodied hammer in his right hand.
It was a matter of time before the orcs would pounce on him, and while their leader continued speaking in a foreign language, Khadgar chanted a spell that could save his life in this dire moment. "Why did you kill the king, Garona?!" He shouted, his eyes staring deeply into the blank eyes of the half-orc.
For a moment, Garona's eyes brimmed with life, her expression filled with grief and remorse. She tried to speak, but the orcs holding the chains silenced her forcefully. Khadgar's shout further angered the orcs, and they slammed their weapons onto their shields, creating a deafening sound. In the chaos, a hammer hurtled toward Khadgar. In shock, he invoked a shield just in time. With the spell finished, runes flickered around him as the arcane enveloped his body. The last sound he could hear was the piercing blow of horns that signaled a large battle about to occur. By then, his form vanished from sight amidst the confusion of the orcs.
The harbor was a scene of chaos and desperation as hundreds of orcs closed in on the survivors. The ground tremored beneath their relentless advance, and the soldiers tried their best to maintain some semblance of order as they hurriedly led the survivors onto the waiting ships.
Anduin, leading Thorwin, Adriana, and their companions, rushed onto one of the larger ships. With every step they took, the sense of urgency grew stronger. The soldiers around them fought to protect the remaining survivors, but the situation was becoming dire. As they made their way onto the ship, Anduin glanced back at the dwindling number of survivors still on the ground. He knew they had to act fast if they were to escape the impending carnage. The soldiers began to reinforce the entrances to the ship, forming a defensive barrier between the orcs and the remaining people.
Just as the orcs and soldiers were about to lock into battle, a sudden burst of arcane energy filled the air. Runes appeared, heralding the arrival of an old, bearded man - Khadgar. Though weakened and on the brink of exhaustion, Khadgar had not given up on protecting those he cared for.
With the last reserves of his mana, Khadgar conjured a powerful dome of arcane magic to shield the survivors from the impending onslaught. The shimmering dome appeared just in time, right before Khadgar's consciousness slipped away, leaving him unconscious but content in the knowledge that he had bought the survivors precious moments of safety.
Inside the protective dome, Anduin looked at the mage, and noticed the robes he was wearing. "Khadgar!" He shouted. His gaze turned towards Gavinrad who was relaying orders at the wharf. "Gavinrad, order your men to bring the old mage onto the ship."
Gavinrad nodded, sending the guards that were standing nearby to lift Khadgar away from the defensive lines. Anduin watched anxiously as the guards carefully carried Khadgar's unconscious form into the ship. He saw the saggy skin of the once young mage, and how his lips had turned dry. Thank you, my friend. He whispered. "Clerics, attend to our savior, you must keep him alive at all costs."
The clerics hurriedly gathered around Khadgar, their hands glowing with the healing power of the light. They worked with precision and focus, tending to the old mage's wounds, and replenishing his depleted energy. Anduin stood by, his heart heavy with worry, but he knew that Khadgar was in good hands.
As the clerics tended to Khadgar, Anduin's mind drifted back to the dire situation they were in. The orcs were relentless in their assault of the dome, and the sounds of its arcane weaking outside the ship echoed through the harbor. He could feel the ship swaying slightly, the water below them disturbed by the turmoil of the increasing number of orcs outside.
"We need to get moving, my Lord," Gavinrad said, his voice steady despite the chaos around them. "The longer we stay here, the more vulnerable we become."
Anduin nodded in agreement. "Prepare to set sail," he ordered. "We cannot afford to wait any longer."
The guards quickly complied, shouting orders, and directing the survivors to the designated areas on the ship. The clerics finished their ministrations on Khadgar, and Anduin was relieved to see some color returning to the mage's cheeks. Though still unconscious, Khadgar seemed to be stabilizing. Tens of large ships and thousands of boats began disembarking at the docks of Stormwind City, and the cries of children sang along with the pristine serenity of the sea.
Anduin stood and watched the once glorious city ablaze with fire and blood. He could feel a presence beside him, "Varian…" He muttered. Anduin turned to face Varian, the young prince whom he had come to regard as family. The flames of horror reflected in Varian's eyes. His fists were clenched in rage, and he began crying from pain and relief.
"I will avenge my father," Varian said, his voice trembling with emotion. "I will not rest until those responsible for this devastation pay for their crimes."
Anduin placed a hand on Varian's shoulder, offering comfort and support. "I understand your anger, Varian," he said gently. "I will be with you throughout this ordeal."
In Varian's most vulnerable moment, he wrapped his arms around Anduin's waist. Though the boy's hand was not large enough to fully cover, Anduin felt the boy's plea. He rested his right hand atop the boy's head before reciprocating the hug.
It was by then that the last ship disembarked that the arcane dome dissipated. The hundreds of orcs had grown into thousands, and behind them approached five war machines. "Lord Anduin! The orcs had brought their catapults." A scout from the crow's nest reported, his hands holding a spyglass.
Anduin's eyes widened as he saw the approaching war machines. The orcs had brought catapults, a deadly siege weapon capable of causing immense destruction. "Prepare for incoming fire!" Anduin bellowed, his voice carrying the weight of urgency. "Varian, hide with Thorwin and Adriana in the decks below!"
Varian was led by a guard, and along with the survivors on the ship, they scrambled to find cover, while the soldiers hurriedly readied themselves for the impending attack. Panic spread among the people, and Anduin knew that they were facing a dire situation. Doom set upon Anduin's eyes as the blazing projectile had once scurried the air once more.
"By the light," Gavinrad muttered in shock beside him. While some of the soldiers around them turned pale and had blanked eyes from the deafening sound and the fresh memories of its devastation.
Yet, the blazing rocks did not bring mortal demise for it was intercepted away by rays of water that emanated from the sea. Gasps of astonishment echoed among the refugees, their eyes locked on the miraculous sight before them. Four massive ships emerged from the distant horizon, each bearing the proud flagships of House Stormsong and House Proudmoore. The sight of their heraldry instilled a sense of unity and strength among the survivors. The sides of the ships bristled with an array of powerful cannons, signaling their formidable naval firepower. On the upper decks, a multitude of soldiers, marines, and tidesages stood in battle formations, ready to defend the fleeing survivors. As the two leading ships approached the fleeing refugees, a collective cheer erupted from the survivors. The desperate situation had seemingly turned in their favor, and their hearts filled with gratitude for the timely arrival of their allies. The ships positioned themselves strategically at the rear of the escaping fleet, forming a protective barrier against the relentless onslaught of the orcs.
The tidesages on board the ships were swift in their response, conjuring sea barriers that deflected the ongoing barrages of the orcish catapults. The power of the elements met the might of the orcish war machines, creating a mesmerizing spectacle of magic and destruction. Then, as if in symphony, the cannons of the ships roared to life. The deafening sounds echoed across the harbor as fiery projectiles soared through the air, finding their mark amidst the orcish ranks. The earth shook under the explosive impact, causing the orcs to falter and their battle cries to falter.
The orcish forces, once confident in their impending victory, were now caught off guard and disoriented. Panic spread among their ranks as they struggled to regroup under the relentless barrage of cannon fire. The once thunderous drums and war cries were now drowned out by the sounds of chaos and desperation. The refugees on the ships watched in awe and relief as the combined might of the Stormsong and Proudmoore ships turned the tide of the battle.
As the fleeing fleet put more distance between itself and the beleaguered city, the acrid smokes of gunpowder finally dissipated, and a collective sigh of relief echoed among the survivors. The air, once thick with fear and tension, now carried a sense of newfound hope and freedom. The ship's decks buzzed with a mixture of exhaustion and gratitude as the survivors realized they had escaped the clutches of imminent danger.
Families embraced, tears streaming down their cheeks as they counted themselves lucky to have survived the onslaught. The young and the old, warriors and civilians, shared in the overwhelming emotions of survival and the lingering anxiety of the onslaught they had just endured.
A day later.
The dim light filtering through the porthole cast a soft glow over the cabin, revealing the opulence of their surroundings in stark contrast to the turmoil outside. The resplendent gilded furniture adorned the walls, a stark reminder of the life they had left behind in the grand halls of Stormwind City. Yet now, during this harrowing escape, the extravagant furnishings seemed out of place, almost mocking in their extravagance.
Thorwin's eyes were drawn to the figure of his mother, Adriana, sleeping soundly on the ornate bed. Her face, usually calm and composed, now bore the weariness of a sleepless night filled with fear and uncertainty. He felt a pang of guilt in his chest as he considered the stark contrast between their comfortable sleeping quarters and the dire conditions the other refugees endured below deck.
On another bed, lay the sleeping form of Varian, the young prince. Dried tear tracks were visible on his cheeks, evidence of the emotional toll the events had taken on him. Thorwin knew how much Varian had looked up to his father, King Llane, and the burden of losing him weighed heavily on the young prince's shoulders. It was a heavy burden for someone so young, and Thorwin wished he could ease Varian's pain.
Cautiously, Thorwin slipped out of his mother's embrace, careful not to wake her from her much-needed rest. He felt a mixture of protectiveness and responsibility for both his mother and Varian, and he wanted to spare them any additional worry or disturbance. The distant shouts and clamor from outside the cabin only fueled his curiosity. What was happening on deck? Was there danger approaching? As he opened the cabin door with utmost vigilance, the sounds of chaos and urgency spilled into the small space. The scene that greeted him on deck was a stark contrast to the luxury and opulence of the cabin. Families huddled together, their faces etched with exhaustion and fear. The ship's deck had transformed into a makeshift shelter for the refugees, where every inch of space was utilized to accommodate more people seeking safety. The air was thick with a mixture of emotions - fear, desperation, and hope.
Some of the refugees were huddled in small groups, finding comfort and solace in the embrace of their loved ones. Others were eating meager portions of hard bread, their hunger evident in their tired expressions. The smell of saltwater and sweat mingled in the air, a testament to the tight quarters and the strain of the journey they were all enduring.
Thorwin's heart ached for the plight of the refugees, and he felt the weight of their collective struggle. He knew that he and his family were fortunate to have secured a place on this ship, while countless others had been left behind, facing an uncertain fate in the war-ravaged city.
In the midst of contemplation, he heard a familiar voice behind him. "Lord Thorwin," a thick voice spoke.
Turning around, Thorwin saw Gavinrad, the loyal and steadfast warrior who had been by their side throughout their journey. Beside him was the dwarf they had rescued, his name still yet unfamiliar to him. Though no longer in his armor, the dwarf's arms were adorned with tattoos, tribalistic and mystique, hinting at his rich history and untold tales.
"Sir Gavinrad… and Sir Dwarf." Thorwin innocently called. He touched the sideburn of his hair in embarrassment from still not knowing the name of their fellow dwarf much to the dwarf's amusement. The thick, resonant yet suppressed laugh of the dwarf entered Thorwin's ears.
"Well, lad, you can call me Falstad," the dwarf introduced himself with a warm smile, his eyes twinkling with mirth. "And I must say, I've never met a lad as brave and compassionate as you."
Thorwin blushed slightly at the praise, appreciating the friendly gesture from Falstad. It was a welcome moment of lightheartedness amidst the somber atmosphere that surrounded them.
Gavinrad's attention returned to the boy, concern etched on his face. "You should be resting," he said gently. "You've been through so much, and it's important to take care of yourself too."
"I know, Sir Gavinrad," Thorwin replied earnestly, "but I can't help worrying about everyone else. The banging sounds outside our cabin woke me up, and I just couldn't ignore it."
Gavinrad nodded in understanding, acknowledging the weight of responsibility that Thorwin carried on his young shoulders. "You have a kind and brave heart, Thorwin," he said. "But you must also remember that you've already done everything you could to help. You helped your mother, Prince Varian, and all the others flee to safety. Now, it's time to let go of those worries and take a moment to rest."
"It's hard to sleep peacefully, knowing what they are going through," Thorwin added, his voice tinged with genuine sadness and empathy. His eyes wandered over the refugees huddled together on the crowded deck.
Gavinrad placed a reassuring hand on Thorwin's shoulder, grounding him in the present moment. "I understand, My Lord," he said softly. "But it is a choice we must all make in order to live another day."
Thorwin nodded, finding comfort in Gavinrad's reassuring presence. He took a deep breath, trying to quell the swirling emotions inside him. The weight of the situation still lingered, but he felt a sense of stability and security in Gavinrad's steady guidance.
"Where is Grandpa?" Thorwin asked, his voice tinged with concern. His eyes darted around the deck, searching for his grandfather among the crowd of refugees and soldiers.
"The Lord has met with the delegates of the Kul Tirans," Gavinrad replied, gesturing towards a group of soldiers nearby. "The sounds you heard were them boarding our ship." He pointed towards the Stormsong vessel sailing beside theirs. "Lord Anduin is talking with them right about now."
Thorwin's gaze followed Gavinrad's gesture, and he spotted a figure standing tall among the delegation. Even from a distance, he recognized his grandfather's commanding presence and regal demeanor. Despite the uncertainty that surrounded them, Lord Anduin stood with an air of dignity, engaging in diplomatic discussions with the Kul Tiran representatives. Among them, was a familiar lady in dignified robes. Lady Lyanna, Thorwin thought. Her dignified robes swayed gently in the sea breeze, and her presence added a sense of gravitas to the negotiations.
"I shall hang around here until they have finished their talks then," Thorwin declared, determined to stay close to observe the proceedings. His young heart longed to understand the intricacies of diplomacy and leadership, for he knew that one day, the responsibility of his family's legacy would rest upon his shoulders.
"Very well," Gavinrad acknowledged, his eyes filled with both admiration and concern for the young lord. He trusted Thorwin's intentions but also recognized the heavy burden that curiosity and responsibility could place on such a young soul.
"I'll accompany the lad here. You go on, mate," Falstad proposed, stepping forward with a comforting smile. The stout dwarf had grown fond of Thorwin and admired the boy's sense of justice and bravery. Despite his small stature, Falstad carried himself with a sense of authority and wisdom that often belied his appearance. He understood the importance of mentoring and guiding young minds, and he was more than willing to lend his support.
Gavinrad nodded before striding off towards the delegates to accompany Anduin in the talks. Thorwin's turned his gaze on the unfamiliar officers accompanying Lady Lyanna. He couldn't help but be intrigued by their presence on the Stormsong ships. As he observed the officers closely, he noticed their distinguished appearances, clearly marked by the symbols of House Proudmoore. The most noticeable of them was a bald, mustached man, whose leather coat proudly bore the crest of House Proudmoore prominently on his chest. The man seemed to carry an air of authority and experience, and Thorwin could sense an amicable demeanor in the way he conversed with his grandfather, Lord Anduin. Lady Lyanna, with her graceful poise, appeared to act as the diplomatic intermediary between the two sides.
Curiosity gnawed at Thorwin, and he longed to understand the reason for House Proudmoore's presence on their ships. He recalled the history between their families, the bonds forged in the face of past challenges. Yet, the inclusion of officers from House Proudmoore in this crucial moment intrigued him even further. As the delegates engaged in their discussions, Thorwin's mind raced with questions. What brought House Proudmoore to accompany Stormsong ships? Was it solely out of duty as allies, or did it signal a deeper alliance and commitment to their cause? He pondered the possible implications of this union.
Thorwin's thoughts were interrupted by Falstad's reassuring presence beside him. The stout dwarf had observed the unfolding scene with keen interest. "Aye, lad," Falstad spoke in his characteristic hearty tone, "seems like those men have decided to accompany us back to land. A good outcome for us, if ye ask me."
"Father must have sent his men to fetch me and my mother. Those men are from Kul Tiras, my homeland, Sir Falstad. And the men with an anchor engraved to their chests are from the Proudmoore family, ruler of our kingdom," Thorwin disclosed. "Meanwhile, the men wearing robes are Tidesages from my family."
"Tidesages? I've never heard of them," Falstad inquired.
Thorwin's eyes shone with pride as he spoke about Lady Lyanna and the tidesages. "Tidesages are powerful wielders of the sea's magic," he explained. "They have a deep connection with the tides and the elements, and they use their mastery of water and healing arts to protect and aid those in need. Lady Lyanna is one of the most skilled tidesages from Kul Tiras, and she has been my teacher. She taught me how to harness the power of water, though I still can't cast a single spell."
Falstad nodded, clearly impressed. "Sounds like a formidable bunch, these tidesages. I can see why your father would want them by your side."
"Yes, they are," Thorwin agreed. "And with House Proudmoore's naval might and the tidesages' magical prowess, any enemies would be blasted away."
As they continued to observe the negotiations between Lord Anduin, Lady Lyanna, and the delegates, Thorwin's curiosity was still not satisfied. He yearned to understand the intricacies of the alliance forming before his eyes. The blending of House Proudmoore's military strength with the tidesages' elemental abilities sparked a multitude of questions in his young mind.
"Why do you think House Proudmoore has chosen to aid us?" Thorwin mused aloud, turning to Falstad with a curious expression. "Is it merely out of duty as allies, or do you think there's something more to it?"
Falstad scratched his beard thoughtfully. "Hard to say, lad," he replied. "But what I do know is that they have chosen to stand by us in this time of need, and that speaks volumes about any reason."
"You're right, Sir Falstad," Thorwin said, correcting himself with a grin. "What matters is that they have come to our aid when we needed it most. We are grateful for their support."
"Oi, quit it with the Sir, Lad. I'm no knight," Falstad declared heartily. "Just call me by my name. After all, we're quite the similar height, aren't we?"
"I understand then, Falstad," Thorwin said with a nod, feeling a sense of camaraderie with the stout dwarf.
"Ya'know, lad," Falstad continued, his eyes filled with warmth. "Knowing that House Proudmoore has come here for you and your mother, that makes my debt to you twice. You saved me from certain doom, and now you've saved all of us by bringing those allies to our side."
Thorwin's cheeks flushed with humility, touched by Falstad's heartfelt gratitude. "I didn't do it alone, Falstad. It was through everyone's effort, and we all helped each other escape."
"Aye, that's true," Falstad agreed. "But it was your courage and determination that led the way. Never forget that, lad."
With a knowing nod, Thorwin acknowledged Falstad's words of encouragement. The two stood side by side, their eyes fixed on the ongoing negotiations between Lord Anduin, Lady Lyanna, and the delegates. The atmosphere was tense, and every word spoken seemed to carry immense weight, determining the fate of the refugees. After what felt like an eternity, the talks finally came to an end. Thorwin's eyes darted to Lyanna and Cedric as they stepped away from the delegation, engaged in a private conversation. Their hushed tones suggested matters of great importance, and Thorwin couldn't help but wonder what they were discussing.
As the officers from House Proudmoore made their way back to their ship, Thorwin noticed Anduin engaged in a seemingly hearty discussion with the bald man. There was a palpable sense of camaderie in the air. Just as the clockwork run on Thorwin's mind, his attention was suddenly drawn to a figure on the Stormsong ship. His heart leaped with joy as he recognized the familiar face of a young man standing among the Proudmoore officers. "Derek!" Thorwin couldn't contain his excitement, and his shout of delight echoed across the ship, drawing the attention of everyone around.
Derek Proudmoore, with a smile that lit up the evening sky, waved back at Thorwin before making his way towards their ship. The reunion of old friends filled the air with warmth, as if a missing piece of the puzzle had been found.
Derek's warm smile mirrored the joy that radiated from Thorwin. The two friends embraced tightly, their laughter mingling with tears of relief. "I missed you," Thorwin confessed, his voice choked with emotion. "I thought I might never see you again."
Derek's expression softened with a mix of nostalgia and camaraderie. "I missed you too, Thorwin," he replied, his voice steady despite the emotions bubbling within. "We could not sit still knowing your situation, my friend. Besides, Jaina practically begged father to let me accompany you. She's been hiding from the handmaidens while shedding tears like the waterfall back in Kul Tiras."
The mention of Jaina, Derek's spirited and adventurous younger sister, brought a smile to Thorwin's face. "I'm glad she insisted," Thorwin said, wiping away a tear. "Having you here with us, it feels like the pieces are falling into place."
"Oh, and she's real mad that you have not sent her any replies. Though, of course I've consoled her in your stead."
"Thank you… and I wished I could, but we were stranded in the castle during the war."
Derek's playful demeanor softened as he spoke, his eyes conveying a mix of sincerity and concern. "I'll make sure to write her a letter filled with words of love and how much you've been missing her," he assured Thorwin. "I can't promise she won't cry even more after reading it, though!"
Thorwin chuckled, appreciating the lighthearted banter with his friend. "Well, I guess she'll just have to deal with my heartfelt words then," he replied, a warm smile spreading across his face. As the topic shifted to their plans, Thorwin noticed Derek's hesitation before he answered his question. "Will we return to Kul Tiras with the refugees?" he asked, seeking clarification.
Derek's expression turned serious and shook his head as he explained, "We will send a ship back to Kul Tiras to report what has occurred in Stormwind. I've decided to accompany Lieutenant Benedict and the remaining ships in escorting the refugees back to Lordaeron."
Thorwin's heart swelled with pride for his friend's sense of duty and responsibility. "That's a noble decision, Derek," he remarked. "The refugees need all the support they can get, and I know you'll be a great help to them." His face then turned inquisitive. "But why are we going Lordaeron?"
"Lord Anduin has decided it to be the right course of action. But you must return to Kul Tiras with Lady Adriana, Thorwin," Derek continued, his tone firm yet filled with genuine concern. "I've seen Lord Stormsong… He needs you."
Thorwin's mind was torn between his responsibility to the refugees and his duty to his homeland. "But the refugees," he protested, "they need guidance and protection."
Derek placed a reassuring hand on Thorwin's shoulder. "They are not your people to guide, Thorwin," he gently interjected. "The people of Stormsong Valley await you, and they are worrying alongside your father and my family. You have a duty to them as well."
The gentle creak of the cabin's door opening broke the momentary silence.