The dawn’s light picked out a lone, gleaming figure striding confidently out of the forest across the tree stump littered clearing and towards the Horde’s last stronghold. Ringed by two layers of palisades of roughly hewn lumber, with guard towers and other structures of lumber and hide poking out, it seemed more of a crude fortress to Uther’s eyes. The paladin could make out the shapes on the walls and towers suddenly moving about as they no doubt spotted the golden figure walking towards them.
“Is this wise?” he had to ask as the king of Alterac boldly walked up to the orc’s encampment.
The blue-robed court mage beside him verbally shrugged. “My king is insistent that he deals with this his way.”
Concerned murmurs rose from the hillock overlooking the fortress which itself was built on a slightly larger hill. Behind Uther, the other knights of the Silver Hand made their skepticism clear. Only Arthas and himself kept grim silence, having a true measure of the mage-king’s abilities. Yet it was probably that skepticism that Kyle sought when he requested their presence. It was a high praise that the king of Alterac deemed the Order of the Silver Hand to be exemplary enough to serve as impartial witnesses, despite Uther and Arthas’ failings in his kingdom.
After the incident with Arvitas, the knights now traveled in small groups rather than pairs, and through new methods of channeling their faith vetted the travelers they came across for Fel magic before fulfilling their knightly duties of protecting them. The new procedure has garnered some immediate results; a group of knights traveling westwards have reported picking out a trio of dark occultists hiding within caravans.
It was a promising start, but no doubt there was room for improvement. Archbishop Alonsus Faol was still training a new group of faithful warriors, ones who would specialize in seeking out hidden corruption. There were speculations on how these inquisitors would operate, but Uther opted to simply wait until they were revealed before casting any judgment.
He focused back to the lone figure still marching slowly across the ugly clearing, unbothered by the roars from orcs that poured out of the gates. Perhaps the king of Alterac might be able to aid the new order of inquisitors in refining their abilities. He’d been able to detect a demon after all…
Back at the Horde’s stronghold, a quartet of orcs advanced towards Kyle, their roars reaching Uther’s position in muted echoes. Kyle’s response was to brandish a gilded pole and pick up the pace.
Something caused further alarm in the orcs, and Uther swept his gaze back to the woods now far behind Kyle to notice something drop from the heavens to hover above the treeline. It was just as gilded as Kyle was, round in shape with splayed out wings that didn’t flap. Nor did it have any signs of rotors or moving parts like gnomish flying machines. Yet it still floated above the air, seemingly content to keep some distance from the mage-king for now.
“Uther, something is amiss…”
The paladin glanced at his squire, and then followed Arthas’ gaze towards the ground behind Kyle. There wasn’t much to it in Uther’s eyes, beyond the tree stumps the orcs no doubt created in building their fortress, there were the remains of a trampled underbrush, and sparse grass that only-
“Hm…” Uther squinted harder, suddenly unsure if his vision had imagined something. He thought he saw a few tree stumps sink a little into the ground, but at this distance, it was impossible to be sure.
It was Arthas who turned to the placid court mage with a request while the other knights and squires of Uther’s retinue tried to figure out what the crown prince had seen. “Could you give us a better view of your king and the land around him?”
Valoghan gave a laconic nod before waving an arm, and a portal shimmered to life, offering a closer view of Kyle half a stone’s throw away from the now charging orcs. Four orcs - common warriors judging from their simpler garb - raised their axes and swords, their maws opening to bellow war cries as they covered the last few yards. Then Kyle slashed his staff across, and the war cries were muted.
The orcs all fell in a tumble by his feet, their heads or upper halves of their heads falling shortly after. The mage-king now stopped his advance and planted the butt of his gilded weapon on the ground, proudly displaying the blade of light that formed out from the end as if it were a glaive.
“He’s gotten faster,” Arthas noted as the rest of Uther’s retinue gawked at the sight.
The paladin shook his head. “His arm did not move any quicker,” he corrected. “It doesn’t take much to move pole weapons about. He’s probably less constrained here as he was in the cathedral.”
His squire gave a hum of concession, and Uther turned his attention to the orcs’ walls. The echoes of their cries of alarm reached his ears, and for a second the Lightbringer wondered how this camp could escape detection for so long with how noisy the orcs were.
There was some activity by the gates and walls, but what drew Uther’s attention was Kyle, still more than a hundred yards from the fortress, lowering his glaive of blue light and pointing it towards the stronghold.
And then a barrage of light shot out from behind him and struck the palisades, and wood exploded into splinters as if struck by an avalanche.
The chaos from the orcs filled the morning air, and Kyle resumed walking towards the fortress, his glowing pole blade resting casually over his shoulder.
It took little time for what seemed like the entirety of the Horde to pour out from the ruined walls to form up against the mage-king of Alterac. Uther noted with concern the number of heavily armored figures among them, and he felt cold rage at the thought of so many loyal Lordaeron soldiers being felled and callously looted by the savages.
Valoghan’s portal shifted towards the growing orc lines, and with the closer view the knights’ confused muttering shifted into that of alarm as notorious figures were picked out. There was the feral, hulking figure of Grommash Hellscream, wielding the Gorehowl, an oversized axe with its own dread reputation. The chieftain of the Warsong clan had escaped Alliance capture all this time, and had proven a prickly reminder that the Horde still existed beyond the internment camps.
Not far away from the chieftain stood the stiff form of Varok Saurfang, the Horde’s second-in-command and the butcher of Stormwind. The monster who orchestrated the slaughter of Stormwind’s helpless citizens was showing signs of graying in his facial hair, but age did little to dampen the air of brutality about him. That he lived at all was a surprise, Uther had certainly thought the orc killed by his fellow paladins during that last push towards the Dark Portal.
Yet dreaded those two figures might be, they were not the true leaders of this Horde.
Uther himself unconsciously clenched his hands into fists when he saw the unmistakable black armor and warhammer on the towering orc that shoved his way to the front of the orcish host. Orgrim Doomhammer had indeed lived through his escape from the Lordaeron City as the rumors had suggested and finally fled here. While Grom and his Warsong clan were the foundations of the new Horde, it was no doubt Orgrim who the rest of the orcs rallied to.
While Uther and his knights reined in their tempers at the sight of such figures demanding righteous retribution, Kyle came to another stop again, this time barely an arrow’s shot away from the gathering Horde. Orgrim bellowed a challenge, to which the mage-king answered by shrugging.
And then another barrage of light from behind Kyle tore through the orc’s stronghold, causing the orcs to instinctively duck and crouch as splintered logs and shattered stone were tossed heavenwards. As debris started to rain on the Horde, the mage-king’s eyes took on their distinct glow as he leaned his weapon against his body and raised clawed hands at them.
Uther saw something spark in the space above them, and then suddenly he and his retinue had to snap their heads away, their eyes stinging from the sudden eruption of lightning that tore through the center of the orc host. The crackle and sharp explosions that reached his ears didn’t completely smother the aborted screams of anguish as the eldritch storm raked across the unaware orcs.
From the viewing portal, Uther beheld a field of blackened husks that was once the Horde’s center once the lightning barrage ended. Smoke wafted from the glassy ground, and he could make out the dull gleaming blobs of cooling metal that were once weapons or armor pieces. A few husks fell apart like they were made of charcoal.
“The boy and his theatrics,” Valoghan muttered dryly at the frightening display of power.
Orgrim recovered from the shock first, and with a roar charged at the king of Alterac. Predictably, the other orcs quickly regained their wits and followed after their leader.
Kyle remained unmoving and unimpressed, picking up his glaive again with not a hurry in the world even as axes and spears were flung at him. The projectiles broke in the air, crashing against an invisible barrier before him. The display didn’t slow the orcs’ charge, and Orgrim was only a few strides away from reaching Kyle with his hammer.
Then the air shimmered between orcs and human, and the charge came to a crashing halt as all throughout the line the orcs slammed into the distorted, apparently solidified, air. From where Uther stood, it looked as if a translucent wall had suddenly sprung into existence, fully surrounding the orcs.
Confused as they were, the orcs quickly picked themselves up, many with bleeding mouths or noses, and tried to overcome the barrier. Weapon strikes bounced off with no obvious effect, and the orcs that tried to climb the semi-visible wall slid off as if they were attempting to climb glass.
Then the flying object behind Kyle rose up into the heavens, and as if it lifted a huge canvas, the field behind Kyle was no longer empty.
Scores of golden, giant, four-legged spiders began to spread out across the shimmering wall with surprising speed. What looked like cyclopean beetles, also gilded, with crystalline orbs cradled in their abdomens floated after them. And among the walking and floating constructs dozens of larger, just as gold-plated creatures shuffled up towards Kyle. Looking like barn-sized grubs, these giants inched slowly to form a line behind the mage-king, who regarded them with a dark grin.
As the orcs struggled against the barrier, while Orgrim and Varok ordered some orcs to form a living ramp of sorts, while Grom kept futilely hacking at the shimmering air, Kyle finally raised his glaive again.
Something was spat out from the mouths of the giant grubs, glowing brightly and leaving a trail of light as it zipped effortlessly towards and then over the shimmering barrier. The orcs for their part seemed didn’t have the time to be wary as these motes of light darted among them…
And then promptly detonated in spectacular fashion.
The cascade of explosions was horrific. Blood and broken bodies were flung into the air, and the rain of gore barely had begun their descent before another volley was launched. The stunned survivors of the Horde’s front lines still couldn’t react in time, and the rippling detonations churned even more red mist into the air. By the time the third volley of glowing projectiles shot over the wall, the orcs were struggling desperately to push their formation back. Unfortunately, Kyle’s encirclement was complete, and the orcs in the rear were being crushed by their own kin who desperately sought an exit that never existed.
A great and bloody hole was blasted from the Horde’s formation as volley after volley carved out chunks from the orcs. Uther could only watch with wide-eyed horror as he watched the cold slaughter. Kyle remained apathetic as the glowing projectiles shot past him, his glowing gaze scanning the carnage before him almost in boredom.
After the fifth volley, the shimmering barrier disappeared, allowing the orcs to spill out. The greenskins stumbled over trampled and crushed corpses to find themselves staring at the spider-like things that took the place of the wall. The dome-like centers of the constructs parted open, and the glowing light that Uther had seen tore down the walls earlier was unleashed into every angle of the broken Horde.
It was a massacre on a scale that Uther struggled to comprehend. There was no place for resistance or resolve here. Orcs that stood their ground were swallowed by bolts of light and turned to ash. Shields and armor proved little hindrance to the golden walkers’ attacks. Orcs that ran or cowered fared no differently. A few orc warlocks tried to hurl green fire, but the flames splashed harmlessly against the same invisible defense that protected Kyle. Whatever their actions, there was no changing their fate.
The walkers began to advance, taking a few steps to tighten the noose around their trapped prey. Large metallic legs stomped over mounds of ash without thought. And then they stopped to fire again, and more orcs disintegrated before Uther’s eyes. For all their desperation to escape, not a single living orc made it past the spider-like constructs.
Glancing to his side, the paladin was surprised to see Kyle’s court mage in similar surprise. Though not as horrified, Valoghan was staring intently at the destruction being wrought with the clear signs of a man witnessing an event for the first time.
Lightning erupted within the dwindling Horde’s center again, followed by more explosions as the giant grubs spat out another volley that trimmed the formation’s edges even more.
Uther saw Orgrim leading a group of orcs forwards in a desperate bid to reach Kyle, Hellscream and Saurfang among them. Their number was quickly whittled down by the arachnids’ bolts of light. By the time they reached Kyle, six orcs were standing, covered in soot and the blood of their kin.
Grommash leapt, axe drawn back for a powerful swing. Varok and another orc lunged from one angle, while Orgrim and the remaining orc attempted to flank from another.
Kyle simply took a step back, and let the orcs be swallowed by the blinding light. Little was left of his attackers to fall onto the ground. The mage-king stepped forwards again to curiously inspect the smoking weapons that his foes had left behind, dusting away the ash without any concern for the slaughter in the background.
It took a frighteningly short time for the orcs in the field to be reduced down to gory bits or mounds of ash. Before the sun had fully risen from the horizon, the walkers and the floating beetles who’d done nothing up until now began entering the encampment. It was only from within that any prisoners from this encounter were taken. Not a soul survived the engagement itself, and those that had tried to flee from the fortress during the carnage had been similarly blasted to ash by more walkers no doubt standing guard within the forest.
By all metrics, this was a great one-sided victory. Yet looking at the ash-covered field where a lone, golden armored youth stood among his monstrous constructs, Uther felt only cold dread at what the Alliance could be facing instead if the demons’ machinations had turned Alterac against them.
The dawn’s light picked out a lone, gleaming figure striding confidently out of the forest across the tree stump littered clearing and towards the Horde’s last stronghold. Ringed by two layers of palisades of roughly hewn lumber, with guard towers and other structures of lumber and hide poking out, it seemed more of a crude fortress to Uther’s eyes. The paladin could make out the shapes on the walls and towers suddenly moving about as they no doubt spotted the golden figure walking towards them.
“Is this wise?” he had to ask as the king of Alterac boldly walked up to the orc’s encampment.
The blue-robed court mage beside him verbally shrugged. “My king is insistent that he deals with this his way.”
Concerned murmurs rose from the hillock overlooking the fortress which itself was built on a slightly larger hill. Behind Uther, the other knights of the Silver Hand made their skepticism clear. Only Arthas and himself kept grim silence, having a true measure of the mage-king’s abilities. Yet it was probably that skepticism that Kyle sought when he requested their presence. It was a high praise that the king of Alterac deemed the Order of the Silver Hand to be exemplary enough to serve as impartial witnesses, despite Uther and Arthas’ failings in his kingdom.
After the incident with Arvitas, the knights now traveled in small groups rather than pairs, and through new methods of channeling their faith vetted the travelers they came across for Fel magic before fulfilling their knightly duties of protecting them. The new procedure has garnered some immediate results; a group of knights traveling westwards have reported picking out a trio of dark occultists hiding within caravans.
It was a promising start, but no doubt there was room for improvement. Archbishop Alonsus Faol was still training a new group of faithful warriors, ones who would specialize in seeking out hidden corruption. There were speculations on how these inquisitors would operate, but Uther opted to simply wait until they were revealed before casting any judgment.
He focused back to the lone figure still marching slowly across the ugly clearing, unbothered by the roars from orcs that poured out of the gates. Perhaps the king of Alterac might be able to aid the new order of inquisitors in refining their abilities. He’d been able to detect a demon after all…
Back at the Horde’s stronghold, a quartet of orcs advanced towards Kyle, their roars reaching Uther’s position in muted echoes. Kyle’s response was to brandish a gilded pole and pick up the pace.
Something caused further alarm in the orcs, and Uther swept his gaze back to the woods now far behind Kyle to notice something drop from the heavens to hover above the treeline. It was just as gilded as Kyle was, round in shape with splayed out wings that didn’t flap. Nor did it have any signs of rotors or moving parts like gnomish flying machines. Yet it still floated above the air, seemingly content to keep some distance from the mage-king for now.
“Uther, something is amiss…”
The paladin glanced at his squire, and then followed Arthas’ gaze towards the ground behind Kyle. There wasn’t much to it in Uther’s eyes, beyond the tree stumps the orcs no doubt created in building their fortress, there were the remains of a trampled underbrush, and sparse grass that only-
“Hm…” Uther squinted harder, suddenly unsure if his vision had imagined something. He thought he saw a few tree stumps sink a little into the ground, but at this distance, it was impossible to be sure.
It was Arthas who turned to the placid court mage with a request while the other knights and squires of Uther’s retinue tried to figure out what the crown prince had seen. “Could you give us a better view of your king and the land around him?”
Valoghan gave a laconic nod before waving an arm, and a portal shimmered to life, offering a closer view of Kyle half a stone’s throw away from the now charging orcs. Four orcs - common warriors judging from their simpler garb - raised their axes and swords, their maws opening to bellow war cries as they covered the last few yards. Then Kyle slashed his staff across, and the war cries were muted.
The orcs all fell in a tumble by his feet, their heads or upper halves of their heads falling shortly after. The mage-king now stopped his advance and planted the butt of his gilded weapon on the ground, proudly displaying the blade of light that formed out from the end as if it were a glaive.
“He’s gotten faster,” Arthas noted as the rest of Uther’s retinue gawked at the sight.
The paladin shook his head. “His arm did not move any quicker,” he corrected. “It doesn’t take much to move pole weapons about. He’s probably less constrained here as he was in the cathedral.”
His squire gave a hum of concession, and Uther turned his attention to the orcs’ walls. The echoes of their cries of alarm reached his ears, and for a second the Lightbringer wondered how this camp could escape detection for so long with how noisy the orcs were.
There was some activity by the gates and walls, but what drew Uther’s attention was Kyle, still more than a hundred yards from the fortress, lowering his glaive of blue light and pointing it towards the stronghold.
And then a barrage of light shot out from behind him and struck the palisades, and wood exploded into splinters as if struck by an avalanche.
The chaos from the orcs filled the morning air, and Kyle resumed walking towards the fortress, his glowing pole blade resting casually over his shoulder.
It took little time for what seemed like the entirety of the Horde to pour out from the ruined walls to form up against the mage-king of Alterac. Uther noted with concern the number of heavily armored figures among them, and he felt cold rage at the thought of so many loyal Lordaeron soldiers being felled and callously looted by the savages.
Valoghan’s portal shifted towards the growing orc lines, and with the closer view the knights’ confused muttering shifted into that of alarm as notorious figures were picked out. There was the feral, hulking figure of Grommash Hellscream, wielding the Gorehowl, an oversized axe with its own dread reputation. The chieftain of the Warsong clan had escaped Alliance capture all this time, and had proven a prickly reminder that the Horde still existed beyond the internment camps.
Not far away from the chieftain stood the stiff form of Varok Saurfang, the Horde’s second-in-command and the butcher of Stormwind. The monster who orchestrated the slaughter of Stormwind’s helpless citizens was showing signs of graying in his facial hair, but age did little to dampen the air of brutality about him. That he lived at all was a surprise, Uther had certainly thought the orc killed by his fellow paladins during that last push towards the Dark Portal.
Yet dreaded those two figures might be, they were not the true leaders of this Horde.
Uther himself unconsciously clenched his hands into fists when he saw the unmistakable black armor and warhammer on the towering orc that shoved his way to the front of the orcish host. Orgrim Doomhammer had indeed lived through his escape from the Lordaeron City as the rumors had suggested and finally fled here. While Grom and his Warsong clan were the foundations of the new Horde, it was no doubt Orgrim who the rest of the orcs rallied to.
While Uther and his knights reined in their tempers at the sight of such figures demanding righteous retribution, Kyle came to another stop again, this time barely an arrow’s shot away from the gathering Horde. Orgrim bellowed a challenge, to which the mage-king answered by shrugging.
And then another barrage of light from behind Kyle tore through the orc’s stronghold, causing the orcs to instinctively duck and crouch as splintered logs and shattered stone were tossed heavenwards. As debris started to rain on the Horde, the mage-king’s eyes took on their distinct glow as he leaned his weapon against his body and raised clawed hands at them.
Uther saw something spark in the space above them, and then suddenly he and his retinue had to snap their heads away, their eyes stinging from the sudden eruption of lightning that tore through the center of the orc host. The crackle and sharp explosions that reached his ears didn’t completely smother the aborted screams of anguish as the eldritch storm raked across the unaware orcs.
From the viewing portal, Uther beheld a field of blackened husks that was once the Horde’s center once the lightning barrage ended. Smoke wafted from the glassy ground, and he could make out the dull gleaming blobs of cooling metal that were once weapons or armor pieces. A few husks fell apart like they were made of charcoal.
“The boy and his theatrics,” Valoghan muttered dryly at the frightening display of power.
Orgrim recovered from the shock first, and with a roar charged at the king of Alterac. Predictably, the other orcs quickly regained their wits and followed after their leader.
Kyle remained unmoving and unimpressed, picking up his glaive again with not a hurry in the world even as axes and spears were flung at him. The projectiles broke in the air, crashing against an invisible barrier before him. The display didn’t slow the orcs’ charge, and Orgrim was only a few strides away from reaching Kyle with his hammer.
Then the air shimmered between orcs and human, and the charge came to a crashing halt as all throughout the line the orcs slammed into the distorted, apparently solidified, air. From where Uther stood, it looked as if a translucent wall had suddenly sprung into existence, fully surrounding the orcs.
Confused as they were, the orcs quickly picked themselves up, many with bleeding mouths or noses, and tried to overcome the barrier. Weapon strikes bounced off with no obvious effect, and the orcs that tried to climb the semi-visible wall slid off as if they were attempting to climb glass.
Then the flying object behind Kyle rose up into the heavens, and as if it lifted a huge canvas, the field behind Kyle was no longer empty.
Scores of golden, giant, four-legged spiders began to spread out across the shimmering wall with surprising speed. What looked like cyclopean beetles, also gilded, with crystalline orbs cradled in their abdomens floated after them. And among the walking and floating constructs dozens of larger, just as gold-plated creatures shuffled up towards Kyle. Looking like barn-sized grubs, these giants inched slowly to form a line behind the mage-king, who regarded them with a dark grin.
As the orcs struggled against the barrier, while Orgrim and Varok ordered some orcs to form a living ramp of sorts, while Grom kept futilely hacking at the shimmering air, Kyle finally raised his glaive again.
Something was spat out from the mouths of the giant grubs, glowing brightly and leaving a trail of light as it zipped effortlessly towards and then over the shimmering barrier. The orcs for their part seemed didn’t have the time to be wary as these motes of light darted among them…
And then promptly detonated in spectacular fashion.
The cascade of explosions was horrific. Blood and broken bodies were flung into the air, and the rain of gore barely had begun their descent before another volley was launched. The stunned survivors of the Horde’s front lines still couldn’t react in time, and the rippling detonations churned even more red mist into the air. By the time the third volley of glowing projectiles shot over the wall, the orcs were struggling desperately to push their formation back. Unfortunately, Kyle’s encirclement was complete, and the orcs in the rear were being crushed by their own kin who desperately sought an exit that never existed.
A great and bloody hole was blasted from the Horde’s formation as volley after volley carved out chunks from the orcs. Uther could only watch with wide-eyed horror as he watched the cold slaughter. Kyle remained apathetic as the glowing projectiles shot past him, his glowing gaze scanning the carnage before him almost in boredom.
After the fifth volley, the shimmering barrier disappeared, allowing the orcs to spill out. The greenskins stumbled over trampled and crushed corpses to find themselves staring at the spider-like things that took the place of the wall. The dome-like centers of the constructs parted open, and the glowing light that Uther had seen tore down the walls earlier was unleashed into every angle of the broken Horde.
It was a massacre on a scale that Uther struggled to comprehend. There was no place for resistance or resolve here. Orcs that stood their ground were swallowed by bolts of light and turned to ash. Shields and armor proved little hindrance to the golden walkers’ attacks. Orcs that ran or cowered fared no differently. A few orc warlocks tried to hurl green fire, but the flames splashed harmlessly against the same invisible defense that protected Kyle. Whatever their actions, there was no changing their fate.
The walkers began to advance, taking a few steps to tighten the noose around their trapped prey. Large metallic legs stomped over mounds of ash without thought. And then they stopped to fire again, and more orcs disintegrated before Uther’s eyes. For all their desperation to escape, not a single living orc made it past the spider-like constructs.
Glancing to his side, the paladin was surprised to see Kyle’s court mage in similar surprise. Though not as horrified, Valoghan was staring intently at the destruction being wrought with the clear signs of a man witnessing an event for the first time.
Lightning erupted within the dwindling Horde’s center again, followed by more explosions as the giant grubs spat out another volley that trimmed the formation’s edges even more.
Uther saw Orgrim leading a group of orcs forwards in a desperate bid to reach Kyle, Hellscream and Saurfang among them. Their number was quickly whittled down by the arachnids’ bolts of light. By the time they reached Kyle, six orcs were standing, covered in soot and the blood of their kin.
Grommash leapt, axe drawn back for a powerful swing. Varok and another orc lunged from one angle, while Orgrim and the remaining orc attempted to flank from another.
Kyle simply took a step back, and let the orcs be swallowed by the blinding light. Little was left of his attackers to fall onto the ground. The mage-king stepped forwards again to curiously inspect the smoking weapons that his foes had left behind, dusting away the ash without any concern for the slaughter in the background.
It took a frighteningly short time for the orcs in the field to be reduced down to gory bits or mounds of ash. Before the sun had fully risen from the horizon, the walkers and the floating beetles who’d done nothing up until now began entering the encampment. It was only from within that any prisoners from this encounter were taken. Not a soul survived the engagement itself, and those that had tried to flee from the fortress during the carnage had been similarly blasted to ash by more walkers no doubt standing guard within the forest.
By all metrics, this was a great one-sided victory. Yet looking at the ash-covered field where a lone, golden armored youth stood among his monstrous constructs, Uther felt only cold dread at what the Alliance could be facing instead if the demons’ machinations had turned Alterac against them.
