The Justice of the Grave [Guardians of Azeroth Mod]

[mitsosan]

Prologue: The Frozen Throne

It wasn't how he expected it to be. In his confusion, Arthas could not tell if he was stronger or weaker now that he wore the Helm of Domination. He sat on the Frozen Throne and stared the frozen wastes.

"Now we are one..."

He immediately recognized the whisper. It was the same. All the pain; the misery came from this voice. Along came power though, power he never even imagined in his past life as a champion of light. The voice was still whispering, but he could hear the whispers now louder than ever.

All that time since Ner'Zhul corrupted his mind, Arthas obeyed and followed his orders, bringing death to all who came in his way. Not that he could do otherwise. The hunger of Frostmourne, his cursed runeblade was his also. Now, his master's call brought his before the Frozen Throne. After he shattered the icy prison of his master, he wore the Helm of Domination and merged with the soul of Ner'Zhul

In an unconscious move, he laid his head back on the throne. He soon realized the dire state his master was when the Lich King called him from Lordaeron to the frozen wastes of Northrend. Now everything made sense. But why, even after he wore the Helm of Domination, the new Lich King was still weak?

"It will take time... But our powers will rise day by day... This world will succumb to the might of the Scourge. All of them will serve the Dark Lord... Eventually..." The whispers of Ner'Zhul continued.

He disgusted this weakness. His slowly moved his right arm from the throne and rested it on his chest. His heart was still beating. With every beat an image of a young, blonde boy flashed in his troubled mind. The boy had an angelic face, with bright blue eyes and a big smile that annoyed him. The face seemed familiar, but he couldn't remember if he had ever met the boy; neither in his past life nor as a Death Knight. He took his arm away from his chest and the boy disappeared. Again; he moved his arm towards the chest, but now he touched the open wound with just his fingertips. The boy reappeared. He could even hear it now, yelling from a distance.

"What happens after people die, father?"
"Their souls go with the Light, son."

The man's voice was a familiar one. The sound of it made his heart beat faster, thus keeping the image of the boy was standing before a grave more clear. The boy's identity was still unknown, but the man besides it wasn't. It was his late father, King Terenas II Menethil. Arthas remember the moment he thrust Frostmourne into his father's chest in the throne room. He removed his fingers from his beating heart once again.

This time the words came form his runeblade, Frostmourne. His father's trapped soul echoed in his head:

"It's never too late my son; you can still go after the Light. Forgiveness-"

With a swift move he drove his hand through the open wound in his chest, grasping the beating heart. He felt no pain at all.

"Weakness ...disgusts me!"

Yelled with his otherworldly voice while tearing the heart out from his body. Holding the still-beating heart, he turned his face to the sword.

"I see only darkness"

The heart then ceased to beat, and Arthas turned it to a crystal. Now he sensed that he had to recover. Ner'Zhul was in a much weaker condition than Arthas imagined while he climbed the endless steps of Icecrown. There was a war raging on in Lordaeron, and his grip on the undead was weakened. There was also much work to be done there, in Northrend. A whole Citadel had to be constructed.

The Lich King rested on his throne and let himself fall asleep. It wasn't a calm one.

 

[mitsosan]

Chapter I: The Third War



As the Lich King sat dormant for years, storms raged across Northrend and his minions constructed Icecrown Citadel around the Frozen Throne. While the Lich King dreamt, the various voices in his head - the death knight Arthas Menethil, Ner'zhul, and the young blonde boy- fought for influence and control over the entity.

The news of Artha's, the once brave prince of Lordaeron and a servant of the Holy Light as a paladin swept the kingdoms of the Alliance. Its forces continued to fight bravely the Undead Scourge laid waste on the northern kingdoms.

The wise and mighty sorcerers of Dalaran were the first to counter the armies of the undead, with their leader, Antonidas believing that a swift counter attack towards the capital city of Lordaeron would be enough to push them to the north. The mindless ghouls and abominations didn't seem to organize any army for the time, but they roamed in small groups, razing towns, villages and small castles that hadn't fall yet to the plague. The first skirmishes against them proved them to be an easy target for the powerful sorcerers. Antonidas gathered his forces near the fallen capital and prepared for the assault, but was caught by surprise, as a few days after his march north started a huge undead army appeared before him. His forces fought endlessly in the forests of Shining Strand, a few kilometers away from the capital, with spells of fire and ice, striking the ghouls that attacked from every direction. After two days of fighting against the former humans, Antonidas understood that battling the undead alone was futile. Their numbers seemed to be unending, so the Lord of Dalaran teleported his remaining forces back to the city.

Upon their return, the Dalaran army met another undead army. Their glorious city had fallen to the hands of the Scourge. Shaken and exhausted, Antonidas gathered the survivors and the rest of his forces and lead them south. It all had happened so quick. Antonidas didn't even think of alerting his allies. Rescuing his people was the only thing that he had in mind. The undead army was relentless though. Contrary to his forces, the ghouls had no need to stop and rest. Marching day and night, without stop, the undead reached Antonidas just outside of Dalaran, and attacked the mages once again unexpectedly.

The sorcerers were massacred, and raised as a new undead army, strengthening further the Scourge. At the same time, in the North, the paladins of the Silver Hand were fighting the undead valiantly. The first battle, in the outskirts of Andohral, saw an even number of ghouls and the forces of the Silver Hand. But the mortal army had a disadvantage that the dead didn't; After a day, the paladins, in their heavy plate armor were exhausted and their losses were starting to rise. Uther decided that it was time for a tactical retreat and called his army to fall back. The paladins left their dead behind but did not lose their determination. After a few days, they once again marched deep into Scourge lands, only to meet another army with twice the numbers of the last fight. It was the outcome of this short campaign that drove the living to the conclusion time was off the essence. Every day that passed, the Lich King's servants were working tirelessly to raise more and more dead from the graves as mindless minions of the Death God.

The reports from the great battles reached the leaders of the Alliance, and combined with Artha's betrayal, the feeling of the upcoming doom overwhelmed the leaders of the southern kingdoms of Kalimdor. It was time for decisive action, and no-one had the bravery to lift the heavy burden that was bestowed upon the shoulders of the living. In every castle existed a lord that was hoping that the dead will not march further south. At these dark times, Lord Admiral Daelin "The Lion" Proudmoore, from the Kingdom of Kul Tiras, a man diligent and brave, decided to take the initiative. Pure wrath conquered him as he learned of the path of his daughter's, Jaina, comrade followed. He called the remaining leaders of the Alliance, and put them before their duty. His fiery speech gave heart to the terrified lords and kings, and all of them agreed during the secret meeting in Stormwind that the Alliance had to act decisively and with every force that had been left. Lord Admiral Daelin convinced his allies that the inactivity the Alliance showed, underestimating the plague of the undead was one that they couldn't afford to repeat. Daelin urged his allies to gather all their forces in Stormwind, and march north as soon as possible. King Varian Wrynn of Stormwind volunteered to lead the campaign, and the rest agreed.

Lord Admiral Daelin left for Kul Tiras to bring his whole fleet to transfer the army of the Alliance north in order to save time. When he returned, he wasn't satisfied with what he saw. The humans, dwarfes and High Elves managed to gather an army of only 10.000 men. His fleet could transport about 50.000, and he expected no less. During his conversation with King Varian as the army boarded the ships, he revealed his disappointment.

"I expected more" He said to Varian as they supervised the preparations.
"I know. Me too".
"Antonidas had the same amount of men, wielding the power of arcane magic and still wasn't enough."
"But they were caught by surprise. This won't happen again. There is no turning back, Daelin. Not now. We'll have to fight back with everything we've got. And after we retake Dalaran-"
"Dalaran? There's no need to care with Dalaran anymore. We have to strike at their heart, the city of Lordaeron!"
By that time, everyone believed that the heart of evil lied in the cursed city of Lordaeron, where Arthas had murdered his father.
"Let us retake Dalaran first. The news of a first big won battle will give courage to everyone, and convince them to send more reinforcements. Much needed reinforcements to lay siege at the city of Lordaeron".
"Alright then. Do your best at Dalaran, and I will force the cowards to gather more men".
"Agreed. See you again, friend".


The alliance army had camped at the outskirts of Dalaran, preparing the siege. They didn't know exactly what to expect. Varian had only met a few groups of undead ghouls on his way north, but was determined to avoid the mistakes the other commanders committed before him while battling the undead. He decided to not drive his army immediately at the city, but take a more cautious approach. The undead though had no will to sit back and defend the city. The next day, his encampment was attacked.