The Torrents of War: Part 7 - Blood in the Water & the Streets

Priscilla sat, comfortable but not at ease upon the balcony of her coastal home on Boralus; while laid out before her from her position perched precariously on the hills surrounding the city was chaos. Smoke hung in the air even as the fires had been quenched, and the distant sound of cannons and flash of magic told her the battle was still ongoing.

Knight Captain Valyri practically vibrated at her side, “Milady, news is coming from the front.”

“It is about time,” She muttered, placing her teacup down with nary a clink. ‘I poured my entire fortune and then some into this war.’ The thought of being destitute was a nightmare, but she could not fear, ‘When I am queen of Kul’Tiras I shall owe no one anything and claim whatever I wish.’

She turned to face the mustachioed face of Commodore_Calhoun, daggers at his side and hat held over his heart he knelt before her.

“Report,” she said bluntly.

“As you will madam,” A flicker of a smirk on his lips, “Don Adams forces are holed up but far from dead. Captain_Hartford,  sends his regards and claims Drustvar has been in chaos thanks to the Red Hand and it sounds as if the trolls have done away with the ships stationed there.”

His smirk grew and he added, “And your pirate friends have made landfall, the trolls are cutting through the rest of Daelin’s navy.”

A sharp laugh escaped her lips as she rose to her feet, “Magnificent, let the navy burn I say they never would have joined hands with us and now that Waycrest will be distracted with the pirates we can make our move.”

She froze in her step and added, “Do we know if Daelin is dead?”

Calhoun nodded, “He sacrificed his ship to destroy the Irontide’s before being swallowed in the currents as our scouts report it. If the roiling waters and crash didn’t kill him the hundreds of sharks brought by the savages did.”

Huffing, she waved for them to follow her, their march was brief, the ground floor of her summer home crowded with gathered privateers and mercenary captains while outside hundreds more were scattered around in magically cloaked camps.

Slapping the banister, she cheered, “The pirates have landed, the streets are in chaos and Proudmoore Keep lays open and waiting!”

“Huzzah!” They cheered.

“Now we begin our stage of the plan, a full-scale assault on the Proudmoore’s last bastion. We shall send that keep tumbling to the ground and with it end their reign. The echoing sounds of their fall shall signal my rise, to queen of Kul’Tiras!”

“Hail to Queen Ashvane!” They roared.

She slapped the railing, “Five hundred gold for every Proudmoore brought to me dead and twice that for alive, now rally your forces, our victory is at hand!”

“Hail your majesty!” Some cheered, as her forces raced out the doors.

Valyri motioned to speak and Priscilla watched a manic grin spread on the knight captains face, “Does that mean?”

“Yes,” Priscilla chuckled, “tonight we both get to see Proudmoore Keep go up in flames; ready your explosive and my elite guard!”

“Yes, my queen!” She cheered, racing off.

“Calhoun stay with me; I may have need of your services before this battle is done.”

The man tipped his hat and chuckled, “Aye aye your grace.”

_______________________________________________________

Jaina bit back a scream as a resounding boom echoed in the air and the walls began to shake.

“Is it pirates!?” Tandred called, pressing himself to her side, as she clutched her stave and held it before them protectively.

“I don’t know, Tandred, mother will know what to do though, I am sure,” she said hastily, not able to really believe her own words. Not when just days a few weeks ago she had been in the halls of impenetrable Dalaran that was now a fallowed husk.

Tandred nodded, trying to be brave, as Jaina used her free arm to sling around his shoulder as another blast rocked the keep.

Before Jaina could even make it to the door of the safe room to ask the guards after her mother, the woman herself threw open the door, a thunderous expression on her face and fresh armor adorning her frame.

“Mother what’s happening!?” Tandred cried.

Kneeling she grasped their shoulders and sighed though it sounded more like seething, “Pirates have landed but we now know why. Ashvane has betrayed us, and her retainers now lay siege to the keep.”

Jaina’s eyes were so wide it almost hurt, her staff pulsing with anxious energy as the room began to chill and Tandred gasped, “But she-”

“Is a traitor now, nothing more, the damned woman will see this nation destroyed rather than let us lead it, but we shall make her pay for every step,” their mother assured.

“Can I help?” Jaina asked, tapping her staff on the ground.

Their mother spoke slowly, “The Ashvane’s know every secret escape hatch and with Dalaran fallen and her mages make teleportation is too unreliable.” She scowled, “We will all have no choice but to fight.”

Jaina swallowed, she had only ever wanted to study and now she might be butchered in her own home.

“But not just yet,” Their mother assured, “The wards are holding strong for now and our cannoneers have great skill, just… Be ready and remember…” Her mother stilled, the words seemingly like a pain to force out, “It is better to sink beneath the waves than to fall into a pirates’ hands.”

Tandred looked confused, but Jaina understood and bit back her tears to answer in as steady voice as she could manage, “They will not get to us mother… I promise.”

“Good girl, brave girl,” She whispered, kissing each of them on the brow and telling Tandred how strong he was.

“Wait here, if they come, Jaina you know what must be done and if the chance to escape comes… Take it.”

“Where are you going?” Tandred whimpered.

Their mother turned, hand on her saber, “To gut Priscilla.”

_______________________________________________________

Lord Arthur Waycrest swooped through the air on the back of his gryphon, the recently arrived trolls on their dragon’s proving sturdy if unimaginative foes.

‘Damned things are tough as any dragon though!’ He thought, guiding Bertram into a pass by another dragoon and slashing at the beasts’ tattered wings before they could sweep out of the way. With a cheer he watched the monster began to careen down even as the battle raged around him.

A sharp shriek stung his ears and Bertam swerved in the air drawing his gaze to Proudmoore Keep.

His eyes widened at the sight of a small army marshaled just out of cannon range, arraying cannons, catapults, and explosives in conjunction with magic to encircle the tower. Ripping open the earth to uncover secret passageways as armed and sharply dressed privateers charged on his rear guard.

“Ashvane, I might have known!” He cursed, gaze flicking to the approaching troll fleet as the screams and shouts of battle echoed below. The rioters from earlier having returned to the fray with renewed vigor thanks to the pirates landing; thus, ensuring the battle lines could not be drawn anywhere, denying him even the chance at turning the ruined docks into a choke point.

‘They are dividing your forces, many will die, it does not have to be…’

Arthur clasped his Tidemother’s tributary dagger and the inky voice from the depths of his mind faded; any good child of Kul’Tiras knew better than to make deals with strange whispers after all.

‘We still outnumber them, if we can get this under control before the trolls arrive, we can hold out, we have to!’

Raising his sword high he roared, “Champions of Kul’Tiras, fight on! Given them no quarter, show the no mercy!” Before diving back into the fray.

_______________________________________________________

From her vantage point outside Proudmoore Keep, Priscila frowned, “I half expected the loyal lapdog to come running at the sight of his master’s peril.”

Don Adam and his creepy little creature looked to her as the man scowled, “Will that cause a problem?”

“No, not in the long run,” She answered dully, gaze locked on the keep, “the dragoons are quite a spot of good luck if I do say so myself, it would have been difficult to lay siege and fight the Gryphons off at once.”

“Then why plan on it?” He scowled.

“Because no one deserves to see the Proudmoore’s die more than I,” she snapped.

The man huffed, “I can think of many-”

“Petty criminals?” she snapped, “The poor, the flogged, the children of the hung? You speak of common folk with common pains and base desires. They cannot comprehend the pain the rips its way through my noble heart.”

The mocking look on the man’s face made her want to strike him, she towered over him, it would be easy enough but… Knowledge his followers would tear her kingdom apart stilled her hand. ‘One day soon, when I am queen, you shall not look so smug,’ she promised, before turning back to the Keep as a messenger raced up to her.

“My queen,” the privateer murmured awkwardly, “We, uh, engaged Kathrine Produmoore-”

“And lost her I take it?” she sneered.

“Uh, in a sense,” He answered, “We sent a force through the tunnels you mentioned… She and her elite guard killed them all and used the dynamite gifted to them by the Knight Captain to collapse the entry way.”

“Damned woman, too cunning for her own good… Still, if she knew to predict that…. Yes, contact the demolition teams, see if we can lure her into a trap. If worst comes to worst all her escape routes will be in tatters and I will get to watch them starve to death or be ripped out as if from a clam.”

“Yes ma’am!” He snapped a salute and raced off before she could correct him and ordered him flogged.

‘Oh well,’ she thought fanning herself, ‘there will be time for that, there will be time for so much when I am queen.’

In the distance, the Drakkari Fleet was breaking through the last holdouts in the blockade.

_______________________________________________________

As the last of Proudmoore’s fleet shattered before Malakk’s Might, Hooktusk let the gong ring, echoing across the air as they ripped through the lingering wreckage and surged towards Boralus.

She couldn’t deny the sight of the pirate hunting capital of the world in such damage and disarray didn’t stir her heart. Soon the bastion of those would take the sea from the free and hang them to the last would be in the hands of those they so loathed.

But a much larger part of herself that knew she had a job to do and a lifetime of professional piracy wherein she always put an emphasis on plunder in place of pillaging meant she was rankling at the sight at the sight of Boralus.

‘Getting this under control is going to be a nightmare.’

“Send word to Flynn, I want him and his crew to spread out among our forces to help corral the Tirasi and the pirates, we want to secure the city not burn it to the ground!”

“Hail Navarch, but the docks are too crowded!”

Snarling she tapped her cannon, gaze drifting across the sea, “Send the Shadowglen’s Turtle Riders ahead with as many troops as they can carry. The rest of you, order every captain to spread our ships out, form a blockade, one that will keep the pirates in too! Then have the shamans freeze the waters, we’ll march on them!”

“Hail Navarch!”

Turning back to Boralus she ran a hand along her neck, before hefting her cannon over her shoulder, “Time to finish this, one way or another.”

_______________________________________________________

Stromgarde Keep was not nearly so accommodating as Lordaeron’s castle, Malakk was finding. The halls were ancient, if often remodeled. But the foundations laid were not designed to support megastructures and so while it was well suited for humans, it was less comfortable for a troll.

Still, Malakk was finding it a suitable place to visit, the view of the ocean from the West Balcony was especially lovely, letting him look across the vast seas from the hilltop. Galen was hovering a frown held back just barely as Ojin'ba stood on the other side of the balcony rictus snarl on her lips.

“You side with these humans over us,” she said coldly.

“I protect my subjects. Within my dominions, all are Drakkari,” Malakk said with a gentle but grand tone.

“Our lands-”

“Are twice what they were even six months ago,” he said bluntly. “They now connect directly to your city in the Hinterlands and will not be touched by human hands again and all this without blood needing to be spilled.”

The fact she obviously would have rathered blood be shed notwithstanding Malakk knew when someone was just being petulant and was fine with waiting out the Witherbark.

“The other tribal leaders will not like this.”

“Yet they will agree,” Malakk chuckled.

“And Zul’jin?” She asked, waving a recently arrived scroll bearing his sigil.

“If he had any intent of fighting for your land you would have shared it with us,” Malakk shrugged, “Besides, he is not fool enough to expend so much to claim this place when the holy land beckons.” Seeing a messenger hawk flying in, Malakk sighed, “Honored Ojin'ba, the war is over, enjoy your winnings.”

“This summer of peace will not last,” She intoned, before stalking off, followed by her elite guards.

Galen shifted closer, “You heard her.”

“Words only mean so much, she is not stupid enough to risk such a war us and Zul’jin would never support it,” Malakk said, holding out his arm. “She knows what would be at stake and what would be lost if war were declared. Far more likely she’d try to goad you into landing the first blow, but you are much to canny for that, yes?”

“Of course,” Galen grumbled, marching to the small table, and finishing his tea.

Malakk took the letter and let the hawk fly but did not break the seal, his ears instead twitching as several foot falls echoed in the hallway and rounded on them.

“Joyous day, Frost King Malakk!” Gal’Darah cheered, “It seems Xex’Mon has resolved out orc problem.”

“Oh? And how did he do that?” Malakk asked, facing his advisors, in particular Gal’Darah and a very pleased looking Beve.

“Is this to do with the one’s that raided our camps?” Galen asked.

Beve chuckled, “In fact it is, dear Councilor, it seems the Orcs who laid low your nations internments camp had no connection with our forces.”

“And how is that?” he asked leaning on the balcony.

“Because,” Gal’Darah said, idly toying with a weather beaten scroll. “They were led by Orgrim Doomhammer and some fellow by the name of Hellscream as well an old Shaman bearing the title Frostwolf.”

Malakk arched his brow, “I have studied the histories of the Second War, and only vaguely recognize those names.”

Both Galen and Gal’Darah shrugged, while Beve waved her hand, “Hellscream was one of the raid leaders who struck after the Dark Portal was first reconstructed. He and his clan were left behind; given father worked with the Horde in the past he thought an alliance could be struck but the Warsong clan apparently saw little worth in human allies.”

Galen scoffed but kept his peace.

Gal’Darah however nodded, “That concurs with what the missive claims. Apparently the Frostwolves were banished orcs from some time in their First Invasion who hid within a valley on Alterac. They used the chaos of our invasion to liberate several camps in a bid to rebuild the Horde, but their numbers were too few and they left so many behind because of weakness.”

“An unlikely path to success,” Malakk chided, “If you leave your most vulnerable to die no one has reason to follow.”

“Wise words, Frost King Malakk,” Gal’Darah intoned before continuing. “It seems they realized our Orc Legions numbers would be substantial and so sought to lead them astray, ambushing them in Alterac. However, one of Xex’Mon’s commanders challenged their leaders to a type of single combat.”

“I take it he won?”

“He did, at great personal risk and offending the Warsong chief, leading to an unwarranted attack, this displeased the spirits invoked by the Frostwolf and led to dissension among the rebel Horde’s ranks.”

Beve chuckled, “Soon enough they were rioting, fighting each other as much as our forces, it was a route. Now this would be Horde is scattered to the wind, with only the Warsong’s leader unaccounted for while the rest lay dead in the snow or have surrendered under the guidance of the Frostwolves.”

“And our casualties?” Malakk asked.

“Last census says some five percent of the Orcish Legions,” Gal’Darah answered.

“A tragedy to be sure, but far less than if the battle had turned into a war and it seems this matter is now near resolves, including to our native ally’s satisfaction I take it?”

Beve smirked, “They are well pleased to have the Frostwolves making ready for Northrend along with the rest of their people.”

“Marvelous, we will still need to be wary of this Hellscream and his followers, lest they become a threat to the good people of my empire.”

Gal’Darah bowed, “Chieftain Xex’Mon has already sent out scouts and trackers though he has not the numbers for a full sweep of the lands.”

“Let the good Chieftain and his followers focus on themselves for now, that we might begin moving them all to Northrend sooner rather than later.” he clapped his hands, “As for now, I think for the matter can be declared settled. Thus we can turn all our focus to Kul’Tiras and then finally put an end to this ghastly war.”

“As you say, Frost King Malakk,” His councilors intoned, Galen a little behind them.

“And speaking of Kul’Tiras,” Malakk said, finally unfurling the missive he had recieved several minutes ago he began to read. 

His easy grin fading and Malakk rose to his full height, voice was sharp and cold,, “Contact the arcanists, we are leaving for Kul’Tiras.”