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So this is an alternative universe that takes place immediately after Arthas merges with Ner'zhul, creating the Lich King. I am a very big fan of the Lich King, I wanted to see him take over Azeroth. Well, it will happen in this story.
"Now, lets go back, follow the yellow brick road as we go on another episode...journey with me as i take you through this nift little place that i used to call home sweet home..."*
~Chapter to be Continued~
~Story to be Continued~
"Now, lets go back, follow the yellow brick road as we go on another episode...journey with me as i take you through this nift little place that i used to call home sweet home..."*
Chapter One
The Emergence of the King
A rush of thoughts and feelings, suffering and joy, schemes and plans, rushed into his mind the moment he placed the icy helmet of profound power on top of his head. The vast amount of knowledge was almost too much for Arthas to bear, before a voice spoke.
"Now, WE, are ONE!"
Immediately the pressure of countless thoughts were suppressed and pushed into a small pocket of his mind as if they were no more than pesky flies. Arthas searched his mind to find the answer to what had happened to him. He had gone to save his master from utter doom, and it seemed now that doom had found him instead.
Just as he finished this terrifying thought, a vision of what seemed to be an icy continent swam into his view. He realized that it was Northrend, the roof of the world. It seemed as if he was looking at it from the sky, but everything was in sharp focus. He could see the movement of creatures, the stirring of the wind, the waves crashing relentlessly against the south shores. The vision of this harsh continent began to fade and another vision appeared, a room that seemed to be made of pure ice and dark rough stone. There was no roof, the room merely carried on into the oblivion. Then, the same voice that commanded the innumerable thoughts spoke.
"The circle has been completed Arthas. You and I are on and the same."
Arthas searched for the location of the voice and a shape began to materialize almost as if to answer his call. The shape took the form of what looked like an orc. His face was painted to look like a skull and his eyes were glowing brightly. He radiated energy. However, resembled a ghost more than flesh. Then the skull face spoke.
"I am Ner'zhul, Lord of the Undead Scourge. You are Arthas, the Champion of the Scourge. Together, we are the Lich King, the true king of Azeroth."
Arthas pondered the orc's words. Despite the fact that this being was quite powerful, he could not dispute the orc's facts and felt that there was truth in what he said.
"How do you propose we go about that, orc? How can we both command the Scourge?" responded Arthas in an eerily cold voice.
"We are two spirits combined into one entity. A perfect fusion of souls. For every enemy soldier fallen, one is added to our ranks. And that is just the tip of the iceberg, literally. Now, enough with the introductions, it is time to discuss the fate of Azeroth."
The Emergence of the King
A rush of thoughts and feelings, suffering and joy, schemes and plans, rushed into his mind the moment he placed the icy helmet of profound power on top of his head. The vast amount of knowledge was almost too much for Arthas to bear, before a voice spoke.
"Now, WE, are ONE!"
Immediately the pressure of countless thoughts were suppressed and pushed into a small pocket of his mind as if they were no more than pesky flies. Arthas searched his mind to find the answer to what had happened to him. He had gone to save his master from utter doom, and it seemed now that doom had found him instead.
Just as he finished this terrifying thought, a vision of what seemed to be an icy continent swam into his view. He realized that it was Northrend, the roof of the world. It seemed as if he was looking at it from the sky, but everything was in sharp focus. He could see the movement of creatures, the stirring of the wind, the waves crashing relentlessly against the south shores. The vision of this harsh continent began to fade and another vision appeared, a room that seemed to be made of pure ice and dark rough stone. There was no roof, the room merely carried on into the oblivion. Then, the same voice that commanded the innumerable thoughts spoke.
"The circle has been completed Arthas. You and I are on and the same."
Arthas searched for the location of the voice and a shape began to materialize almost as if to answer his call. The shape took the form of what looked like an orc. His face was painted to look like a skull and his eyes were glowing brightly. He radiated energy. However, resembled a ghost more than flesh. Then the skull face spoke.
"I am Ner'zhul, Lord of the Undead Scourge. You are Arthas, the Champion of the Scourge. Together, we are the Lich King, the true king of Azeroth."
Arthas pondered the orc's words. Despite the fact that this being was quite powerful, he could not dispute the orc's facts and felt that there was truth in what he said.
"How do you propose we go about that, orc? How can we both command the Scourge?" responded Arthas in an eerily cold voice.
"We are two spirits combined into one entity. A perfect fusion of souls. For every enemy soldier fallen, one is added to our ranks. And that is just the tip of the iceberg, literally. Now, enough with the introductions, it is time to discuss the fate of Azeroth."
Chapter Two
The Plan and the Folly
"Northrend is the keystone to our efforts," stated Ner'zhul with a matter-of-fact tone about him, "With the roof of the world under our control, we can collapse it ontop of the denizens of the world."
"What of the Aspect of Magic? What of the titanic prison, Ulduar? How do you propose we pull those into our grasp? They are not as simple as the kingdoms of Lordaeron and the forests of Quel'thalas."
"Malygos' mind is riddled with insanity. It will not take much to push him over the edge and pull him into our cause. The prison, on the other hand, is not the problem. The prisoner is the problem. However, its regeneration is halted by our existance, which you very well know." stated Ner'zhul. He was speaking as a parent explaining to a child that 2+2=4.
Arthas understood all that Ner'zhul stated and agreed with most of it. However, he felt that the two of them could not control the Scourge. They were NOT the same, nor were they completely fused. This was evident in the periodic disagreements over military strategies and such.
"Either way, we can not assault these strongholds blindly. We need to expand rapidly and bolster our ranks before we attempt an invasion of the Nexus or Ulduar. We also need to infiltrate the enemy as we did with the human and elven nation," retorted Arthas eerily, "We can do this by focusing our necromantic powers in the south, the Dragonblight."
"The common frost wyrms are not your only desire to focus on the Dragonblight, are they?"
"No," Arthas thought to himself,"they are not the only reason".
A particularly alluring prize lay within the bone littered wasteland, Galakrond. Galakrond, an immense proto-dragon, was a dragon who was attributed with being the progenitor to all the dragon races. In addition, the five powerful Aspects were offspring of him. He was said to be larger than all of the Aspects combined. Galakrond was a prized possession to Arthas, and he was going to have it.
"Well I do agree with your reasoning to start there. Aerial support is critical. In addition, Galakrond's presence will surely strike fear into the hearts of the mortal races, aside from just the banner of the Scourge." stated Ner'zhul.
"The Dragon races will also be severely weakened without their shrines or the Wyrmrest Temple. They will fuel the legions perfectly." added Arthas.
"Precisely." commented Ner'zhul. "In the meantime, we should address Icecrown.
Immediately the image of Icecrown flowed into Arthas' field of vision. He saw the sprawling frozen wasteland, littered with innumerable undead hard at labor. Structures of a dark material were being erected and constructed at an incredible pace. To Arthas, it was beautiful.
"The Saronite, as you see, is working perfectly for our constructions. It is immensely durable to forces of any kind: physical, elemental, or ethereal. In addition, luck has it that Yogg-Saron has it's blood littered across Northrend so that we have a constant supply. However, in the future, once Yogg-Saron is under our control, we can milk him as a calf for this Saronite." said Ner'zhul
"If refined and treated properly, it can be used as fuel as well, correct?" questioned Arthas
"Exactly. It is a perfect material for our army." responded the orc.
Arthas was learning all the makings of the Scourge at an incredible pace, aside from the fact that he learned nearly all he needed to know from Ner'zhul following the merge on top of Icecrown. However, Ner'zhul had withheld certain information which he had been revealing to Arthas recently. The flow of time was unable to be tracked as Ner'zhul and Arthas discussed everything inside their fused mind.
"Hmmm....Zul'Drak..Howling Fjord...Borean Tundra...some of the Stormy Peaks, Wintergrasp...and the Dragonblight...all of these regions should hardly be difficult to conquer. Our forces will only increase exponentially. Especially those trolls from Zul'Drak. Their numbers are immense....ripe for the slaughter..."
"And then...all of Azeroth!! We will conquer this world and remake it in our image!" cried Ner'zhul in a booming and dark voice.
"No." stated Arthas.
"What?" responded Ner'zhul, with a peculiar look on his face.
"There is no WE in this....There is only I. I am the one who will lead the Scourge and conquer Azeroth. I am the one with the knowledge, the power, the will. I have gained all I've needed from you, Ner'zhul. Your time is finished." stated Arthas as he strode towards Ner'zhul.
"No! You cannot do this Arthas! We are one perfect fusion!! My plan has been completed; you will ruin all!!"
"You stand in my way, orc!" shouted Arthas as Frostmourne materialized in his hands and he raised the sword.
Ner'zhul's eyes glowed and a ripple of energy exploded from his body. However, it was redirected and flew directly into Frostmourne, absorbed. The orc's eyes widened as he realized the finalization of the betrayal. Arthas slung the damned sword into Ner'zhul, turning him into void. Frostmourne immediately glowed bright blue.
All of the mindless consciousnesses of the Undead immediately recognized the shift of power. However, Arthas took command.
"The Hour of the Scourge is at hand! Conquer in the name of Arthas!"
Eery cries of rattling bone and rotting flesh were heard across Northrend.
The Plan and the Folly
"Northrend is the keystone to our efforts," stated Ner'zhul with a matter-of-fact tone about him, "With the roof of the world under our control, we can collapse it ontop of the denizens of the world."
"What of the Aspect of Magic? What of the titanic prison, Ulduar? How do you propose we pull those into our grasp? They are not as simple as the kingdoms of Lordaeron and the forests of Quel'thalas."
"Malygos' mind is riddled with insanity. It will not take much to push him over the edge and pull him into our cause. The prison, on the other hand, is not the problem. The prisoner is the problem. However, its regeneration is halted by our existance, which you very well know." stated Ner'zhul. He was speaking as a parent explaining to a child that 2+2=4.
Arthas understood all that Ner'zhul stated and agreed with most of it. However, he felt that the two of them could not control the Scourge. They were NOT the same, nor were they completely fused. This was evident in the periodic disagreements over military strategies and such.
"Either way, we can not assault these strongholds blindly. We need to expand rapidly and bolster our ranks before we attempt an invasion of the Nexus or Ulduar. We also need to infiltrate the enemy as we did with the human and elven nation," retorted Arthas eerily, "We can do this by focusing our necromantic powers in the south, the Dragonblight."
"The common frost wyrms are not your only desire to focus on the Dragonblight, are they?"
"No," Arthas thought to himself,"they are not the only reason".
A particularly alluring prize lay within the bone littered wasteland, Galakrond. Galakrond, an immense proto-dragon, was a dragon who was attributed with being the progenitor to all the dragon races. In addition, the five powerful Aspects were offspring of him. He was said to be larger than all of the Aspects combined. Galakrond was a prized possession to Arthas, and he was going to have it.
"Well I do agree with your reasoning to start there. Aerial support is critical. In addition, Galakrond's presence will surely strike fear into the hearts of the mortal races, aside from just the banner of the Scourge." stated Ner'zhul.
"The Dragon races will also be severely weakened without their shrines or the Wyrmrest Temple. They will fuel the legions perfectly." added Arthas.
"Precisely." commented Ner'zhul. "In the meantime, we should address Icecrown.
Immediately the image of Icecrown flowed into Arthas' field of vision. He saw the sprawling frozen wasteland, littered with innumerable undead hard at labor. Structures of a dark material were being erected and constructed at an incredible pace. To Arthas, it was beautiful.
"The Saronite, as you see, is working perfectly for our constructions. It is immensely durable to forces of any kind: physical, elemental, or ethereal. In addition, luck has it that Yogg-Saron has it's blood littered across Northrend so that we have a constant supply. However, in the future, once Yogg-Saron is under our control, we can milk him as a calf for this Saronite." said Ner'zhul
"If refined and treated properly, it can be used as fuel as well, correct?" questioned Arthas
"Exactly. It is a perfect material for our army." responded the orc.
Arthas was learning all the makings of the Scourge at an incredible pace, aside from the fact that he learned nearly all he needed to know from Ner'zhul following the merge on top of Icecrown. However, Ner'zhul had withheld certain information which he had been revealing to Arthas recently. The flow of time was unable to be tracked as Ner'zhul and Arthas discussed everything inside their fused mind.
"Hmmm....Zul'Drak..Howling Fjord...Borean Tundra...some of the Stormy Peaks, Wintergrasp...and the Dragonblight...all of these regions should hardly be difficult to conquer. Our forces will only increase exponentially. Especially those trolls from Zul'Drak. Their numbers are immense....ripe for the slaughter..."
"And then...all of Azeroth!! We will conquer this world and remake it in our image!" cried Ner'zhul in a booming and dark voice.
"No." stated Arthas.
"What?" responded Ner'zhul, with a peculiar look on his face.
"There is no WE in this....There is only I. I am the one who will lead the Scourge and conquer Azeroth. I am the one with the knowledge, the power, the will. I have gained all I've needed from you, Ner'zhul. Your time is finished." stated Arthas as he strode towards Ner'zhul.
"No! You cannot do this Arthas! We are one perfect fusion!! My plan has been completed; you will ruin all!!"
"You stand in my way, orc!" shouted Arthas as Frostmourne materialized in his hands and he raised the sword.
Ner'zhul's eyes glowed and a ripple of energy exploded from his body. However, it was redirected and flew directly into Frostmourne, absorbed. The orc's eyes widened as he realized the finalization of the betrayal. Arthas slung the damned sword into Ner'zhul, turning him into void. Frostmourne immediately glowed bright blue.
All of the mindless consciousnesses of the Undead immediately recognized the shift of power. However, Arthas took command.
"The Hour of the Scourge is at hand! Conquer in the name of Arthas!"
Eery cries of rattling bone and rotting flesh were heard across Northrend.
Chapter Three
One Soul, One Mind, One Body....One Purpose
"One day...you...will be king."
The words echoed inside Arthas' head as he stared out into Northrend from atop the Icecrown Citadel. He had arisen from his throne following his betrayal of Ner'zhul. No longer did he have to deal with that orc and his schemes. The Scourge was under the command of one ruler, a ruler fit to conquer the world and remake it in his image.
He then focused his attention upon the far out tower that lay in the barren wastelands of Dragonblight. Arthas' desire for that region to be fully under his control was nearly unbearable. He had to strike hard and fast.
"But not yet....not yet...." he thought.
He strode towards his throne and stopped just before it. He stood there as if contemplating. Then he turned back around and strode toward the icy staircase and descended down it.
He then came to a balcony which looked towards the north eastern portion of Northrend. He raised his hand and as if beckoning to his will, an icy breeze surrounded Arthas. It then lifted him up and then carried his quickly to his destination. There lay another prize which would strike fear into his immediate enemies. A lesser prize than Galakrond, yet deadly nonetheless.
He came to rest upon ice that was thick as one could imagine. He strode forward a few dozen paces before he came to a half. He knelt down and brushed away a thin layer of snow.
To him only, the voice of a tortured soul was heard beneath the snow and ice. It was a powerful soul. It belonged to the once consort of the Aspect of Magic, Malygos. The wyrm's name was Sindragosa. Millenia ago during the War of the Ancients, Sindragosa was cast away by Deathwing and his Demon Soul. Here in Northrend she died a terrible death..blind and deserted. She died in agony and vengeance. This much Arthas knew from Ner'zhul. Yet, this mattered little as Arthas was here to do one thing only.
Withdrawing Frostmourne, Arthas gazed through the ice into the soul of this long dead Dragon. Summoning the power from runes of ancient evil necromancy, Arthas thrust the sword into the ice. Immediately he assaulted the mind and soul of the wyrm. It attempted to fight him. Yet, in its tortured state, it could do little to avoid the inevitable. Arthas flung aside the soul as if it were a fly and commanded its will.
"Rise."
The ice cracked and broke as the skeletal dragon heaved itself from the depths. From its empty stomach a blue glow emanated brightly. Its claws raked the ice as it pulled the rest of its body up onto the surface. Arthas stood upright as the dragon's eyes glowed bright blue and walked over him.
"Go. To Icecrown Citadel."
The dragon roared with a bestial fury as it spread its wings and launched into the sky towards the deathly citadel. Frostmourne glowed a bright blue, yet was still not quenched of its undying thirst for souls.
As the Lich King stood there, he explored the realm of Northrend through the eyes of his minions. Every region except the Icecrown Glacier, the Dragonblight, and parts of Borean Tundra were left relatively untouched by the Scourge. This was a problem which needed to be resolved quickly. But minimum casualties was a necessity...it was time to set his plans for Dragonblight into rotation.
"Dragonblight's name will actually possess true meaning in it's name now!"
One Soul, One Mind, One Body....One Purpose
"One day...you...will be king."
The words echoed inside Arthas' head as he stared out into Northrend from atop the Icecrown Citadel. He had arisen from his throne following his betrayal of Ner'zhul. No longer did he have to deal with that orc and his schemes. The Scourge was under the command of one ruler, a ruler fit to conquer the world and remake it in his image.
He then focused his attention upon the far out tower that lay in the barren wastelands of Dragonblight. Arthas' desire for that region to be fully under his control was nearly unbearable. He had to strike hard and fast.
"But not yet....not yet...." he thought.
He strode towards his throne and stopped just before it. He stood there as if contemplating. Then he turned back around and strode toward the icy staircase and descended down it.
He then came to a balcony which looked towards the north eastern portion of Northrend. He raised his hand and as if beckoning to his will, an icy breeze surrounded Arthas. It then lifted him up and then carried his quickly to his destination. There lay another prize which would strike fear into his immediate enemies. A lesser prize than Galakrond, yet deadly nonetheless.
He came to rest upon ice that was thick as one could imagine. He strode forward a few dozen paces before he came to a half. He knelt down and brushed away a thin layer of snow.
To him only, the voice of a tortured soul was heard beneath the snow and ice. It was a powerful soul. It belonged to the once consort of the Aspect of Magic, Malygos. The wyrm's name was Sindragosa. Millenia ago during the War of the Ancients, Sindragosa was cast away by Deathwing and his Demon Soul. Here in Northrend she died a terrible death..blind and deserted. She died in agony and vengeance. This much Arthas knew from Ner'zhul. Yet, this mattered little as Arthas was here to do one thing only.
Withdrawing Frostmourne, Arthas gazed through the ice into the soul of this long dead Dragon. Summoning the power from runes of ancient evil necromancy, Arthas thrust the sword into the ice. Immediately he assaulted the mind and soul of the wyrm. It attempted to fight him. Yet, in its tortured state, it could do little to avoid the inevitable. Arthas flung aside the soul as if it were a fly and commanded its will.
"Rise."
The ice cracked and broke as the skeletal dragon heaved itself from the depths. From its empty stomach a blue glow emanated brightly. Its claws raked the ice as it pulled the rest of its body up onto the surface. Arthas stood upright as the dragon's eyes glowed bright blue and walked over him.
"Go. To Icecrown Citadel."
The dragon roared with a bestial fury as it spread its wings and launched into the sky towards the deathly citadel. Frostmourne glowed a bright blue, yet was still not quenched of its undying thirst for souls.
As the Lich King stood there, he explored the realm of Northrend through the eyes of his minions. Every region except the Icecrown Glacier, the Dragonblight, and parts of Borean Tundra were left relatively untouched by the Scourge. This was a problem which needed to be resolved quickly. But minimum casualties was a necessity...it was time to set his plans for Dragonblight into rotation.
"Dragonblight's name will actually possess true meaning in it's name now!"
Chapter One
The Blight of Dragonblight
Standing atop Angrathar the Wrathgate, Arthas looked upon his legions of undead that were rallying into position and readying themselves for the assault of the Dragonblight. Arthas knew that the Dragons would spot his army the moment it exited the Wrathgate. Yet, he also knew that his army outnumbered the current number of dragons residing in the Wyrmrest Temple. He also planned on using the seemingly endless supply of dragon bones to fuel his army. In addition, the blues would be somewhat demoralized at the sight of their former Aspect consort under his command, couple with the recent insanity of Malygos.
Newly constructed Necropolises would also be deployed against the dragon forces. They would serve to spread the plague and weaken both the ecosystem of the land and the well-being of the dragons....a double edged sword. Of the Necropolises, 2 were made of the regular rough stone that littered Northrend's landscape. The third, on the other hand, was newly constructed of the Black Blood of Yogg-Saron, Saronite. It was considered nearly indestructible, and it would surely give pause to even the mightiest of Dragons.
"Open the gate" commanded the Lich King, without the slightest diversion of thought or energy.
Heaved open by several flesh giants, the gates slowly opened, revealing the swarm of death. Ghouls, skeletal warriors, flesh giants, zombies, undead nerubians, abominations, necromancers, plagued oozes, and countless undead beasts from the corpses of wendigos, polar bears, winter wolves, and any other beast of Northrend that one could think. These ground forces of the Lich King comprised of roughly 4,500. The sky was also littered with gargoyles and frost wyrms. There were about 125 gargoyles and 25 frost wyrms. Although certainly not his largest army, it still reeked of death. This pleased the Lich King.
The Lich King then ordered a Gargoyle to scout Dragonblight and the Wyrmrest Temple. He did not care if it was caught and killed. He could see everything the Gargoyle could.
As if flew, it revealed nothing new. The ground was littered with immense bones as the wind howled through the crevices of ice and stone. An accasional magnataur or jormungar was spotted. Then, as the gargoyle neared the Wyrmrest Temple, something very different was present. Shapes of several colors were flitting around the immense structure. Arthas recognized what this meant. The dragons knew of his planned assault and were preparing for him.
"Forward, get closer"
The gargoyle immediately complied and flew closer. Now the shapes were clearly evident. A very small percentage of the dragons consisted of Black and Bronze Dragons. The rest were from the dragonflights of Ysera and Alexstrasza. No Blues were visibly present. Then, the Gargoyle froze. It could not fly forward anymore. Almost immediately, a fireball blocked it's view and consumed the Gargoyle.
None of this phased Arthas.
"Come to me, Sindragosa. It is time."
From behind the mountain that the Wrathgate was imbedded, a skeletal dragon of immense proportions emerged. It flew towards its master and lightly landed upon the Wrathgate. The Lich King called the cold wind and rose onto the dragon's back.
"Onward, to the Wyrmrest Temple!!"
The countless undead minions cried out in triumph as they lurched forward, ready for the onslaught. But their cries were drowned by Sindragosa's deafening roar as she took to the skies. The frost wyrms and gargoyles followed suit.
As the undead army ran towards the temple, necromancers would occasionally stop by dragon corpses and begin their necromatic rituals. As ordered by the Lich King, they were to raise as many undead dragons as possible in order to fuel their fight against the dragons.
As they drew closer to temple, the Lich King made his presence known to all in the region.
"I have come to claim what is rightfully mine: the dead...and the living! Know that you are the first to die in my apocalyptic campaign!" the Lich King bellowed in a dark ominous voice.
In response, the dragons of the Wyrmrest Temple took to the sky. They outnumbered his aerial force by atleast one or two hundred. But most of their force consisted of drakes. This was the benefit of raising dragons from Dragonblight. Only old dragons nearing death flew to this wasteland to lay their souls to rest. As a result, the skeletal dragons that Arthas commanded were solely full fledged dragons. No drakes or whelps. Either way, he knew that the sky was a disadvantage for his army. But the ground was easily his. His ground forces outnumbered the enemy by atleast 25 to 1.
It seemed that the enemy dragons were eager to initiate a counter offensive as a decent sized number flew towards the Lich King's aerial forces. The Lich King decided that it was time to put the meaning of fear into the hearts of these pathetic, overgrown, flying lizards. By the time 300 yards separated them, the Lich King raised his arm, opened his palm, and punched the air. Blue fire, similar to the glow that radiated from Sindragosa's chest, materialized in front of his palm and flew towards the nearest dragon at blinding speed. Within seconds, it hit the dragon directly in the chest. It froze in midair as the blue fire consumed its body. Then the fire died down to reveal a dragon encased in an icy block as it plummeted for the earth.
The dragons recognized the immense power of their enemy, but did not pause in their advance. They roared in defiance and cast fireballs at the Lich King's forces. Sindragosa spun and plummeted to dodge several fireballs and then sharply changed direction to gain altitude. Roaring, she cast a devastatingly cold frost breath that froze several drakes while the others managed to escape with their defensive magics.
The dragons were utilizing their number advantage to great effect. Swooping in and out of the swarms of gargoyles or conglomerates of skeletal dragons, the Wyrmrest dragons were attempting to disperse the Lich King's forces so they could be picked off.
Yet, the Lich King did not worry. He understood why the drakes were working feverishly to pick off his forces before he arrived to the temple. They did not want to deal with his necropolises. He looked back and observed their ominous shapes moving closer towards where he was seated on Sindragosa.
He forced his minions to keep moving forward as they fought so that the battle could be brought to the Wyrmrest Temple. Although greater numbers existed there, he wanted to topple the structure on top of the heads of the dragons. He wanted them to be alive to see their beloved union, crafted by the Titans eons ago, shattered.
Swarms of gargoyles continued to engulf drakes while his frost wyrms and the Wyrmrest dragons battled breath and claw in the sky. Necromancers on the ground would attempt to raise recently fallen dragons to replenish the diminishing air forces of the Lich King. Now 600 yards away from the Temple, the Lich King decided it was time to make a move.
He unsheathed Frostmourne and raised it to the sky as it shone bright blue. Extremely strong gales of hale and snow started to whip and howl around the Temple at an intensity that is not normal in this region. While his undead minions would be undeterred by this weather, it would somewhat hamper the dragons' vision and movement speed.
"To the ground"
Sindragosa heeded her master's command as she swiftly swooped into a steep dive towards the ground and the Lich King's army. She reached the ground and the Lich King descended off her back and strode to the front of his army while she took off to the sky to engage the flying lizards.
He sensed the distance between his armies and his necropolises. They were close enough, it was time to engage the dragons. He unsheathed his sword and slashed it infront of him. Masses of undead flesh and bone lurched forward while two legged dragonkin roared out of the tunnels of the Wyrmrest Temple. Scales, flesh, bone, and metal collided. Ghouls jumped onto the walls of the temple and started to ascend towards the sky. Abominations whipped their chains in circles and belched out their festering innards. Flesh Giants lumbered forward, swinging huge clubs and stomping the ground in their bestial fury. The dragonkin attempted to hold the line against the onslaught of undeath, but they were extremely outnumbered; there was little hope for them. They retreated further into the temples in the hopes to minimize the Lich King's number advantage.
The Blight of Dragonblight
Standing atop Angrathar the Wrathgate, Arthas looked upon his legions of undead that were rallying into position and readying themselves for the assault of the Dragonblight. Arthas knew that the Dragons would spot his army the moment it exited the Wrathgate. Yet, he also knew that his army outnumbered the current number of dragons residing in the Wyrmrest Temple. He also planned on using the seemingly endless supply of dragon bones to fuel his army. In addition, the blues would be somewhat demoralized at the sight of their former Aspect consort under his command, couple with the recent insanity of Malygos.
Newly constructed Necropolises would also be deployed against the dragon forces. They would serve to spread the plague and weaken both the ecosystem of the land and the well-being of the dragons....a double edged sword. Of the Necropolises, 2 were made of the regular rough stone that littered Northrend's landscape. The third, on the other hand, was newly constructed of the Black Blood of Yogg-Saron, Saronite. It was considered nearly indestructible, and it would surely give pause to even the mightiest of Dragons.
"Open the gate" commanded the Lich King, without the slightest diversion of thought or energy.
Heaved open by several flesh giants, the gates slowly opened, revealing the swarm of death. Ghouls, skeletal warriors, flesh giants, zombies, undead nerubians, abominations, necromancers, plagued oozes, and countless undead beasts from the corpses of wendigos, polar bears, winter wolves, and any other beast of Northrend that one could think. These ground forces of the Lich King comprised of roughly 4,500. The sky was also littered with gargoyles and frost wyrms. There were about 125 gargoyles and 25 frost wyrms. Although certainly not his largest army, it still reeked of death. This pleased the Lich King.
The Lich King then ordered a Gargoyle to scout Dragonblight and the Wyrmrest Temple. He did not care if it was caught and killed. He could see everything the Gargoyle could.
As if flew, it revealed nothing new. The ground was littered with immense bones as the wind howled through the crevices of ice and stone. An accasional magnataur or jormungar was spotted. Then, as the gargoyle neared the Wyrmrest Temple, something very different was present. Shapes of several colors were flitting around the immense structure. Arthas recognized what this meant. The dragons knew of his planned assault and were preparing for him.
"Forward, get closer"
The gargoyle immediately complied and flew closer. Now the shapes were clearly evident. A very small percentage of the dragons consisted of Black and Bronze Dragons. The rest were from the dragonflights of Ysera and Alexstrasza. No Blues were visibly present. Then, the Gargoyle froze. It could not fly forward anymore. Almost immediately, a fireball blocked it's view and consumed the Gargoyle.
None of this phased Arthas.
"Come to me, Sindragosa. It is time."
From behind the mountain that the Wrathgate was imbedded, a skeletal dragon of immense proportions emerged. It flew towards its master and lightly landed upon the Wrathgate. The Lich King called the cold wind and rose onto the dragon's back.
"Onward, to the Wyrmrest Temple!!"
The countless undead minions cried out in triumph as they lurched forward, ready for the onslaught. But their cries were drowned by Sindragosa's deafening roar as she took to the skies. The frost wyrms and gargoyles followed suit.
As the undead army ran towards the temple, necromancers would occasionally stop by dragon corpses and begin their necromatic rituals. As ordered by the Lich King, they were to raise as many undead dragons as possible in order to fuel their fight against the dragons.
As they drew closer to temple, the Lich King made his presence known to all in the region.
"I have come to claim what is rightfully mine: the dead...and the living! Know that you are the first to die in my apocalyptic campaign!" the Lich King bellowed in a dark ominous voice.
In response, the dragons of the Wyrmrest Temple took to the sky. They outnumbered his aerial force by atleast one or two hundred. But most of their force consisted of drakes. This was the benefit of raising dragons from Dragonblight. Only old dragons nearing death flew to this wasteland to lay their souls to rest. As a result, the skeletal dragons that Arthas commanded were solely full fledged dragons. No drakes or whelps. Either way, he knew that the sky was a disadvantage for his army. But the ground was easily his. His ground forces outnumbered the enemy by atleast 25 to 1.
It seemed that the enemy dragons were eager to initiate a counter offensive as a decent sized number flew towards the Lich King's aerial forces. The Lich King decided that it was time to put the meaning of fear into the hearts of these pathetic, overgrown, flying lizards. By the time 300 yards separated them, the Lich King raised his arm, opened his palm, and punched the air. Blue fire, similar to the glow that radiated from Sindragosa's chest, materialized in front of his palm and flew towards the nearest dragon at blinding speed. Within seconds, it hit the dragon directly in the chest. It froze in midair as the blue fire consumed its body. Then the fire died down to reveal a dragon encased in an icy block as it plummeted for the earth.
The dragons recognized the immense power of their enemy, but did not pause in their advance. They roared in defiance and cast fireballs at the Lich King's forces. Sindragosa spun and plummeted to dodge several fireballs and then sharply changed direction to gain altitude. Roaring, she cast a devastatingly cold frost breath that froze several drakes while the others managed to escape with their defensive magics.
The dragons were utilizing their number advantage to great effect. Swooping in and out of the swarms of gargoyles or conglomerates of skeletal dragons, the Wyrmrest dragons were attempting to disperse the Lich King's forces so they could be picked off.
Yet, the Lich King did not worry. He understood why the drakes were working feverishly to pick off his forces before he arrived to the temple. They did not want to deal with his necropolises. He looked back and observed their ominous shapes moving closer towards where he was seated on Sindragosa.
He forced his minions to keep moving forward as they fought so that the battle could be brought to the Wyrmrest Temple. Although greater numbers existed there, he wanted to topple the structure on top of the heads of the dragons. He wanted them to be alive to see their beloved union, crafted by the Titans eons ago, shattered.
Swarms of gargoyles continued to engulf drakes while his frost wyrms and the Wyrmrest dragons battled breath and claw in the sky. Necromancers on the ground would attempt to raise recently fallen dragons to replenish the diminishing air forces of the Lich King. Now 600 yards away from the Temple, the Lich King decided it was time to make a move.
He unsheathed Frostmourne and raised it to the sky as it shone bright blue. Extremely strong gales of hale and snow started to whip and howl around the Temple at an intensity that is not normal in this region. While his undead minions would be undeterred by this weather, it would somewhat hamper the dragons' vision and movement speed.
"To the ground"
Sindragosa heeded her master's command as she swiftly swooped into a steep dive towards the ground and the Lich King's army. She reached the ground and the Lich King descended off her back and strode to the front of his army while she took off to the sky to engage the flying lizards.
He sensed the distance between his armies and his necropolises. They were close enough, it was time to engage the dragons. He unsheathed his sword and slashed it infront of him. Masses of undead flesh and bone lurched forward while two legged dragonkin roared out of the tunnels of the Wyrmrest Temple. Scales, flesh, bone, and metal collided. Ghouls jumped onto the walls of the temple and started to ascend towards the sky. Abominations whipped their chains in circles and belched out their festering innards. Flesh Giants lumbered forward, swinging huge clubs and stomping the ground in their bestial fury. The dragonkin attempted to hold the line against the onslaught of undeath, but they were extremely outnumbered; there was little hope for them. They retreated further into the temples in the hopes to minimize the Lich King's number advantage.
~Chapter to be Continued~
~Story to be Continued~
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