Am I my brother's Keeper? [Magina and Terrorblade]

[Strange_Kid]

I like how you describe mortred. I can see the spectre inside her D:

[kennotlah]

yoyo this is it, end of act two

[kennotlah]

Act Three Scene One

"Shan'do Stormrage. After I have communicated this news to the members of the Alliance, there were disagreements to the actions taken," Ezalor began cautiously.

"In short, they would not support us if we go to war with the Scourge," Furion stared back questioningly.

Ezalor winced at such blunt words. He was somewhat glad that they were in a secret meeting in Furion's heavily warded tent. No one could eavesdrop on them discussing their plans.

"Even though the Alliance was formed so that an act of war committed against one is paramount to an act of war against all. Our allies are dishonouring their vows. Am I correct, my friend?" Furion observed drily. His old hands curling into a hardened ball.

"Shan'do, that is not their intent -"Ezalor began defensively, stroking his long white whiskers.

Leshrac looked worried.

"Ezalor, Like it or not, we have marshaled our forces. How can our allies not support us on this? The Scourge has declared war on us by attacking us!"

"They are advocating to let such a matter of a mere criminal breakout to have an appropriate response. The members of the Alliance are advocating the sending of our diplomats to harshly condemn such action and to warn the Scourge not to attempt such an act," Ezalor said obstinately, stroking his white beard.

"Are we letting them bully us and get away with it? What nonsense is this?" Furion exploded.

"Nonsense that would prevent our military forces from being devastated. Nonsense enough to know that we have insufficient support and allies to start a war," Ezalor drew himself to his full height, staring back at Furion.

The archdruid tried to search his mind for a quick response, but he knew that the Night Elves alone were not enough to challenge the Scourge. Simply too weak.

Furion looked away. His eyes were angry and downcast. How could he have naively hoped his allies would back him? This was betrayal. What is the point of an Alliance if the Allies do not help each other?

"Shan'do, we might have to reconsider this battle. We do not have sufficient resources to face a war against the Scourge," Leshrac's voice reverberated through his head.

Furion looked up, his eyes furrowed in worry.

"This is ridiculous, Leshrac. We have already dispatched Warden Mortred to retaliate against the Scourge. They would use this as an excuse to attack us. We are on a near unstoppable course to war. Since we cannot count on our allies, I need your backing on this." Furion retorted.

"Shan'do! My powers have been weakened because of multiple incursions to my grove lately. I am sure the very same thing is happening to my fellow druids," Leshrac bemoaned.

Furion frowned. He disagreed with Leshrac's dependance on his grove. As a druid, one should commune with all of nature. Be its guardian. And so the world would also help them. He remembered faintly at a speech to younger druids, Furion gazed upon them with fatherly affection and said:

"Take care of the earth. For one day it would be your shield and the other your blanket."

Leshrac and a few other druids have developed alternate paths in druidism. The act of tying their powers to a certain magical location. A give-and-take relationship with their own groves.

In return for tending to these groves, the magical powers of these groves would empower their spells and refresh them willingly.

After all this removes the need to communicate with the unruly elements of nature. Furion knew how much diplomacy was needed with the elements. They can be temperamental and untameable even to one as experienced as he was.

For example, the wind is like a proud and unruly child, communicating with them required much understanding. That very understanding that younger druids did not cultivate well with disastrous results.

Furion could recall many occasions that a lesson in coaxing the wind to carry seeds to a field ended in a full blown natural disaster. The young druid stirred up the wind's pride and caused it to bring forth a tornado to show its strength to the druid. It was so messy to clean up that druids have to shun society to improve their skills.

Yet it is not right. Druidism should be like a relationship. How can one stay married based mainly on a give-and-take relationship instead of seeking to understand and be understood?

Furion shook off his rambling thoughts. There was war at hand. He cannot afford to be distracted.

"However, Clinkz has already obtained the knowledge of the secret weapon. If the Scourge knew what we were trying to do..." Furion argued.

"Curses! Now that Clinkz is slain. What can we do?" Ezalor rapped his staff against the ground.

Furion threw his hands on the table. This was frustrating. What solution can be reached? his fingers began to habitually rap against the table. His face was carved with worry.

If there is no solution, the destruction of the Night Elves seemed possible. Belatedly, Furion knew that his sons would fight to prevent that from happening. They would fight hard. But even with them alone, it was not enough. They will lose the war.

"I know this seems desperate and cruel..." Leshrac began, his wizened face dazed at such a possibility.

"Do you have a solution Leshrac?" Furion asked anxiously.

"This is too cruel and desperate, but it would buy us some time," Leshrac began.

"We would disavow Mortred. We'll say that she has gone rogue. The death of Clinkz is... an unsanctioned hit. The Scourge would never buy this and invade first. But this would get our allies and possible sympathizers to side with us," Leshrac announced, his face in a ghastly colour.

It was as if someone dunked Furion into an icy lake. Chilling him to the bones. They were offering innocent Mortred up to be a scapegoat. Sacrificing a soldier for merely following orders.

"Are you saying that we betray Mortred after her usefulness has expired?" Furion spoke harshly, not holding back a word.

"No-no..." even Leshrac seemed horrified at his own proposal. Betrayal. That went against the core of everything they stood for. Venerated elders taught it to the younglings as a guide for their lives. All is One and One is All. Be loyal to your people, Your people be loyal to you.

They fell silent for a while, contemplating the issue with great seriousness while the candles burned lower.

"What is the honour of one woman as compared to the deaths of many and the destruction of the Night Elves and possibly the Alliance?" Ezalor began slowly, trying to prove his point.

"This is betrayal," Furion repeated helplessly. He could not help but remember his own twin brother, Illidan. What happened to him when the Night Elves ruled him to be a danger to his people. They locked him up for ten thousand years.

"No, this is an acceptable sacrifice. We'll disavow her actions. To keep her quiet, we'll explain that it is something like a quick retirement. Give her a fat pension in exchange for a dishonourable discharge. We'll install Shendelzare Silkwood as Head Warden so that she would be appeased," Leshrac said slowly, as if convinced by what he said himself. His eyes could not meet Furion's.

"Unacceptable. If she decides to talk, we will all be ruined. The people would know that we let one of our own to be a lamb to the slaughter. We would have lost the trust the people have in us as their leaders," Furion said angrily.

"Shan'do. Don't be stubborn! This is what that is needed to be done."

"It looks like you have made up your minds." Furion said, feeling completely trapped.

"So Shan'do, are you with us? Or are you against us" Ezalor asked.

Furion gritted his teeth.

Then he said the words that would tear his heart into two.

[Strange_Kid]

OoOoOoOOOO Brilliant!

[kennotlah]

thanks i hope you like it

[kennotlah]

Act Three Scene Two

Three weeks had gone by since Mortred's dramatic entrance into the camp with the heads of the undead Scourge. Various representatives of the Night Elves were summoned to a meeting by Furion. A meeting of the highest level. Many distinguished leaders were summoned to the very meeting.

It was held in the rebuilt halls of Silvermoon. The formerly destroyed city was restored to its former glory. The Alliance had taken it back and held it long enough. Now it was one of the frontlines in the war with the Scourge.

Terrorblade noted the brigade general from the Sentinels Moon Riders Division, Luna Moonfang and Priestess of the Moon, Mirana Moonshade. Both of them wore the ceremonial dress of their order. A silver-grey breastplate of the Moon Riders and the sparkling robes of a Priestess caught the eye of everyone in the tent. Both Stormrage brothers and Shendelzare Silkwood, acting Head Warden were also invited. Leshrac and Ezalor stood by. Watching the meeting. All the heads of the military forces were here.

Terrorblade corrected himself, "Mortred is not here because she is recovering."

Furion began speaking first, "Heads of the Kal'dorei. I greet you. Today I have convened a meeting..."

Terrorblade's thoughts wandered off. Why were they assembled here? To discuss what to do with the fact that Mortred slew the Scourge forces that attacked them? It cannot be. Everyone could easily see that the Scourge will declare war and how could it be their fault. The Scourge started it first. Strategy? Then what is the use of bring in the Priestess of the Moon in? They don't need a religious figure for the planning of war. What then are they here for?

“This is a political disaster. Mortred's murder of escaped prisoners put us in a bad position,” Furion declared to Magina, “Investigations revealed that all escapees were tortured before executed by Warden Mortred. Now the Wardens are being slammed for inhumane treatment. I predict recruitment numbers to the Wardens falling drastically and calls to disband Wardens increase. The Sentinels cannot afford to lose such a powerful and organized group.”

"Father! We have a right to defend our sovereignty! As a nation how could we let such a balatant attack go unanswered!"

Mirana spoke up, obviously bored with the conversation, “Shan'do Furion, You tarry. You have a solution already. Just tell us what is it.”

Furion's bushy green brows furrowed a little. He stroked his silver-green beard thoughtfully before he uttered a word.

“Remove Head Warden Mortred from command. She is clearly unstable and incapable. Then send diplomats to the Scourge to explain that it was an unsanctioned act from a disavowed leader.”

“No!” Shendelzare and the elder Stormrage rose up in protest.
Furion's eyes skewered them with an angry stare.

“We don't have any choice. We cannot let the misguided actions of one ruin an entire nation.” Furion stated resolutely, "We are risking war. War that we cannot win without our people's support. You know what I mean Shendelzare."

Shendelzare fell deadly quiet.

“Father, this is nonsense,” Terrorblade challenged him. "How can our people hate the person who was trying to avenge her slain sisters? When it is a just war?"

Furion's eyes met his son's eyes with strong disapproval.

“Warden Mortred will be thoroughly disgraced by the removal of her position. Her actions are not villainous. She was trying to catch escapees who turned around and slaughtered her wardens with the aid of the foul Scourge,” Terrorblade reasoned.

“Our people are strongly disturbed by this,” interrupted Mirana in her serene tone. “If Warden Mortred remains as Head Warden, the masses will be gripped by fear. The Wardens not just guard our most dangerous criminals, they are also important as a benevolent force for law and order.”

“To the point Priestess,” snapped Terrorblade. Now it was two elders doing something stupid. One was his father and the other the Priestess of the Moon. He hadn't saved the Warden just to watch her get demoted. She should have gotten the Purple Pine for her wounds given by her enemies. This is not right.

Miranda gestured to Shendelzare, "Ask her. She knows."

“We'll have problems on our hands, our people are now scared of the Wardens. We know it. The people fear us now that they know Mortred used torture as part of her methods to gain information on spies and criminals. And the Wardens are the secret police Darnassus. Citizens are demanding for an answer. They demand to know if we used such methods to obtain confessions from criminals as well as other trumped up charges like invading homes to search for information.” Shendelzare spoke up glumly.

"It will be like the time of Maiev. Our Order was nearly torn apart by do-gooder citizens. Ex-offenders came out to lie that they were forced into confession to crimes. People believe them. They have already fire-bombed our headquarters. The precious few Wardens we have are being rounded up to be imprisoned on ridiculous charges. Warden Operations almost ran the risk of being compromised if not for Furion's intervention. He circulated the truth for us."

"The truth is that Mortred did nothing wrong!"

"I don't know why you side with her, son of Stormrage. Our investigations revealed something horrible when we pried this journal from the dead hands of one of her soldiers we found. Mortred had really gone insane."

Leshrac passed a report to the Elder Stormrage to peruse.

Incident Report 616

On the start of the New Moon there was the breakout by various escapees led by the 'Fletcher'(full appendix of names attached behind) who was aided by an outside force linked to the Scourge. Forty-three Wardens were killed by the escapees.

Head Warden Mortred was notified of this incident three hours. Head Warden Mortred activated the COBRA force to be led by herself personally. Field Commander of COBRA relegated to second-in-command to allow the Head Warden to take over.COBRA force was ready to move in two hours.

Mission Day 1: COBRA scouts detected encampment of escapees. Second in Command warned that they need to gather more intelligence. Head Warden Mortred overrode plan. COBRA prepared to attack at dawn.

Mission Day 2: Dawn Attack commenced. Enemy was lying in wait. Four Survivors left out of Two hundred sent out. Warden Mortred regrouped the remainder of COBRA force. Raids prepared.

Mission Day 10: First raid enabled the capture of a few escapees. Warden Mortred ordered torture of prisoner to obtain information. Information revealed that escapees were going to the Scourge for asylum. Prisoner killed and beheaded to leave behind no trace by Head Warden Mortred. She began exhibiting signs of insanity. One warden proposed waiting for reinforcements was executed for 'desertion' and 'defiance to superior orders'. The Warden writing the journal feared for her life.

Mission Day 145: The last Warden accompanying Warden Mortred reported this. She was weak from hunger and dehydration and remarked that the other two were killed so as not to slow her down when they exhibited similar weakness. She feared her execution was soon. The last of the escapees been captured. Clinkz. He confessed under torture that he knew- [section in journal seemed torn off]

Mission Day 151: Head Warden Mortred spotted by friendly forces with decapitated heads of all escapees and the bodies of all the fallen.

End of Report

“Couldn't we just leave out the part where we tell the people that she tortured the escapees but that she responded with lethal force to lethal force shown to her and her partners?”

“That is deceiving the people. The reports cannot be covered up. It has been spread for everyone to know. Everyone deserved to know the truth.”

"This is supposed to be documents so restricted that no one should have access to them! Why does everyone know about it?"

"I told everyone my son. The people needed the truth that it was the action of a madwoman, not the Warden. So I sent this report to everyone. Even the Scourge."

Magina glanced at his brother. Terrorblade's spirit was completely drained. This was the fearsome warrior who feared no enemy. This was the fearsome warrior who fought himself out of twenty deadly traps. This fearsome warrior could see no way out. He was hopeless in the realm of words and politics.

Terrorblade swallowed hard, “Is there any way out for Warden Mortred. Or do we leave her to her disgrace? Father, Warden Mortred is the most highly skilled fighter we have. And you know she did us a great merit thirty seasons ago when she rescued us at Ria Falls. Surely the masses would see it as a fight against evil.”

“You are not listening, son. It's no longer about one Head Warden. It's about an entire organization crucial to our war efforts. The blame rests fully on
her. It was her organization that did not guard the convicts well enough. She led a strike force to their deaths. She executed her very own
soldiers for nno reason. She tortured her prisoners till they died. How can you condone that!”

“We'll limit the fallout from this scandal to mainly the actions of a Head Warden gone rogue,” Luna tried to coax Terrorblade.

“Rogue! Can you hear yourself? Father, how can we take such an evil action against someone who rightly avenges her comrades?”

“Rightly? My son, right and wrong are very subjective. You might see it as an right thing to do, but to others, our gentler people, it is utterly barbaric.
Totally wrong. You are young and naive."

Terrorblade choked up in anger. He did not show it.

Mirana the High Priestess also began to express her concern, “We may have civil war on our hands if Warden Mortred decides to split from the Sentinels,”

“What can we do then? Removing her is a disaster and not removing her is also another disaster?” Luna threw up her hands.

“She must go. Whatever it takes. We will even make it palatable by giving her medals, Purple Pine, or even the highest honour, the Medallion of Valour.
Warden Shendelzare, take command of the Wardens to prevent chaos during the transition. Your sister will step down. I will have her removed from command.” Furion said with an air of finality.

"Then we wait for the next move of the Scourge. We have shown to the Alliance that we were the true victims here and they will side us if the Scourge invades." Leshrac ended brusquely, tidying up all the scattered reams of paper.

“This is not right,” The elder Stormrage declared, storming out.
He ran out of the room and through a large corridor until he reached the promenade, he leaned against a pillar and his face was sullen.
Shendelzare and Magina ran after him. Their hands clasped together. Gently, they inched forward to him, until Magina could pluck up the courage to speak.

“Brother, Father is only trying to do the right thing,” Magina began, "I hate to say it but his argument is too sound. Too flawless."

“Father only cares about his own high and mighty agenda. He thinks his judgement is the decree of the gods, just because you do not practice the druidic magicks, so he acted like you are ready to turn traitor like our uncle,” Terrorblade spat out vehemently.

"That is not true. Magina..." Shendelzare started to speak. Terrorblade turned on her so fast it frightened her.

“I bet he only wanted your sister out because she crossed him once. Ever since then he acted like she would be like her predecessor Maiev,” Terrorblade burst out resentfully.

“Brother...”

“He never cares. He doesn't care at all,” the Elder Stormrage gritted his teeth.

Later

In the sick bay, two high-ranking officers strode in among the injured and sick. They took a left turn into a bed with curtains drawn over them. A night elven woman, dressed in a white sterile gown, had her hands strapped down to the sides of her bed. There was a terrifying air about her, like an explosion contained, None of the officers dared to meet her eyes. The higher-ranking officer unrolled a scroll and began reading from it.

“Head Warden Mortred, you are found guilty of multiple crimes one of which is performing an unsanctioned act of war and therefore bringing the Night Elven people to the brink of war...”

The senior officer flinched when Mortred's haunted eyes were fixed upon him.

“They are coming, you don't know what I know.” She whispered. A mad gleam streaked across her eyes.

"They are marching for the World Tree...But why? Why of all times now? Why not earlier?"

[kennotlah]

sry. i'm late by an hour. was busy celebrating. Cheers! Thanks Strange kid for your replies.

[Strange_Kid]

wow its so intense! Waiting for the next chapter!

[Mortality11]

Bravo,even though im not an active poster,i have been lurking and reading this story ever since Day 1,and allow me to say that your story is spectacular,i wish i could write like you.

[ZeLover]

When's the new chapter coming.. Im dying for moar...

[kennotlah]

Act Three Scene Three

Terrorblade watched wistfully at the camp's entrance. Another patrol had been sent out. To keep a vigilant watch for any undead Scourge. A few months ago being on patrol was just merely a lowly soldier's job, not his duty. He was involved in very important raids on the enemy to chip away at their morale before rejoining his forces for the actual battle. He was a powerful asset. Was.

Now he would gladly do patrolling just to counter raids by the enemy. Anything to escape the boredom of being a healer. Ever since he healed Mortred from her grievous wounds, Furion put him with the healers. Healing was good and all, but it was boring.

He suspected deep down that his father put him there after he violently opposed Mortred's dismissal. However it must be foolish thinking. His father does not do such things. The Furion he knew does not abuse his power.

This night is the night before battle would be joined against the enemy. Soldiers were tense. Even though he was no longer their Captain, Terrorblade resolved to go about to encourage his men. Rouse their fighting spirit.

When he approached his men's tents, he heard some wardens chatter at a distance. His interest was piqued and he crouched behind a tent, in hopes of hearing more.

“- what was wrong with Warden Mortred's actions? Why does she need to be stripped her of her position? Prisoners escaped and killed our sisters and she went out to capture them. They died resisting capture. I'll say, it is justice, long delayed. "

"Then why did Furion Stormrage and everyone else seem to be convinced that she is a criminal?"

"That fool of a Furion Stormrage, who died and made him King? We have our own Law. Why should he interfere and set up a new head Warden anyway?”

“Shush sister, the new head Warden might not like what you say.”

“By the Goddess, the younger sister is kind and the mightiest next to her sister, but can she be tough when meting out justice to the criminals?”

“Nonetheless she must be quite qualified. The elders chose her. But I heard that she was a devoted worshipper of the Mother Moon. So I'm not surprised if the Priestess of the Moon supported her appointment.”

“She might be a good check against heavy-handed punishments, but what does she know of executing the guilty?”

A heavy silence hung in the air. Even the renowned Terrorblade had no answers. He was about to leave when his name cropped up.

"At least we have a hero like Terrorblade."

"Pooh! Shala faldane. A good captain he might have been, but now he is a healer. A healer that stays at the rear. What role can he play in this fight? Do not rest your hopes on him. You would do well to look at Magina for our victory."

Terrorblade felt something in him deflate and a dark rage took over him. He walked away, letting unseen teeth gnaw at his own heart.

***

On the other side of the camp, the younger twin looked at the glittering night skies. Inside he was fidgety as he always was before the start of a huge fight. He tempered the churning energy within him. He had to meet Shendelzare. He had to convince her not to participate in the fight.

Something choked him when he saw Shendelzare's name during the Mustering of the Sentinel forces four hours ago. He was felt his life drain from him at the mere thought of Shendelzare slain.

Magina felt his heavy thoughts constricting him like a giant snake. Frustrated, he instinctively paced about. The more he paced, the more restless he got, so Magina forced himself to settle down on a stool and calm himself down.

Instead of calming down, he began scratching his feet.

"You called for me?"

She glowed, her beautiful skin shimmering in spite of the dull blue tunic she wore under her breastplate. Her eyes were like twin moons. She looked like a warring goddess.

On the other hand, Magina was only dressed in his pants, scratching at his foot rot. Alarmed, Magina put down his foot.

"I saw your name in the Mustering. I knew I have to find you."

"Why?"

"Don't go. Don't fight. I cannot lose you."

Suddenly Shendelzare began silently shedding tears. It alarmed Magina.

“Are you feeling well?” he gently probed.

“I caught a deserter this morning," She whispered sadly, clutching at a letter in her hands. "Before he left, he was so guilt-ridden he sent this letter to his family and his fellow soldiers apologising for his actions."

The gentle light was snuffed out in her eyes.

"The Law is very clear on this, deserters must be executed. Day and night I am on my knees and in front of Elune's altar, praying for wisdom, for the Mother Moon's teachings had always been to avoid killing. I have also received many letters from his friends and family, begging me to spare him. Then all the Wardens were watching my decision. They were all waiting for me to follow the Law." She lamented the her conflict in her heart.

Magina held his tongue.

"I did what is necessary as a Warden. I sent down the order to follow the Law. I ordered him to be executed. All his friends and family cursed and spat at me. One of them wrote to Mirana to kick me out of the Temple of Elune."

She wept. "I had no idea how hard it was to fill my sister's shoes. How did she stand being so hated?"

Probably being tough as nails and a nasty temper to boot. Magina thought to himself.

But Magina did not answer.

Instead, he drew her into an embrace. Silently, saying nothing.

She broke the embrace first. Her eyes shining with tears.

"I cannot leave this battle. Not now. The Sentinels need us. I cannot let my sisters to fight without me, their head Warden. Next to my sister, I am the mightiest."

"Then stay at the rear. I'll win us the war at the front lines." Magina breathed deeply. The smell of her hair, promising to wash away all darkness.

He broke the embrace and they both peered at each others orbs. Communicating beyond spoken words.

Shendelzare nodded silently.

“Will you come back home? Come together with me?” She asked, her eyes saddened.

“I will come back this morning. Even From Quel'thas o'er the sea.” Magina promised solemnly, his gravelly voice nearly breaking.

[kennotlah]

@Strangekid: Thanks for your comments
@Zelover: Moar comes every Sun GMT+0800. Thank you for reading
@Mortality11: Thanks for your post. Don't credit me with so much talent. I merely scrutinize the styles of many authors. You have seen this in various acts. I only mug literature. =)

[Wirthu]

Do u want be a writer? And make something proffesional? You have quiet nice style

[kennotlah]

Act Three Scene Four

Magina looked into the sky and saw only horror. Winged abominations of the Scourge covered the skies. On foot, the undead minions were like sand on a
seashore. Countless foul creatures, ghouls and crypt fiends crawled everywhere in a mad flurry. Skeleton warriors under the sway of their foul masters the necromancers marched in huge columns, a grisly sight of macabre nodding skulls.

At both sides of an immense riverside plain, a brigade stood against numerous legions. It was a strategic nightmare. They would be crushed if they clashed.

Magina's hand reached for his blade. He gripped his warglaive with a death-like vise. They were too outnumbered. However they cannot lose. The price of defeat is too great. He must make sure the battle is won without great losses on their side.

The legion of foul spawn was nothing compared to the sight of their so-called heroes. Magina's throat went dry when he saw them. Their grand foes. Leading the front was the Lord of Avernus, chief of generals that served the Lich King. Abaddon, with vast and haughty strides rode forth, came towering, atop a massive beast armed in adamant and gold. His shield was a sun-eater, dark and devouring. His blade gleamed wickedly and his sharp face was pure venomous frost.

Unholy abominations followed the fell destroyer. Weak faithless soldiers quailed before them, as they would before the giants of Anak.

Horrid Pudge the Butcher, a foul misshapen lump of corpses lumbered on. Dried blood crusted everywhere on its belly, if it could be called a belly, for it was a bad stitch of skin on voluminous entrails. On its bulging arm it twirled a large evil hook to snare its foes and its face had a set of heavy crooked teeth crunch on their skulls.

Two of them. Just two of them sent jolts of fear through the Kal'dorei.

Abaddon whipped his horse into rearing its iron legs. It gave a sulphurous bray; if such a monstrous beast could be called a horse for it was a construct of bones and evil magic.

Arrogance glittered in his deathly eyes.

Abaddon stood and taunted for all the Sentinels to hear. “Why are you all coming out to fight in such few numbers?” he called. “I am the hero for the Scourge's legions and you are a puny force. I see you scared and running. You will know why. All six hundred of you may charge at me. Even in lone combat I will tear out all your hearts and send them to your homes and raise your worthless bodies to eat each others flesh!”

The night elves stood swaying, their faces paralyzed.

Magina could not bear to look on any further. He rode on his nightsaber and addressed all his men. His face was fierce and his spirit was flaring.

"My brothers! I see in your eyes the same fear that would take the heart of me. A day may come when the courage of our people fails, when we forsake our friends, and break all bonds of fellowship; but it is not this day! This day we fight! This day they shall face the steel of the Kal'dorei! This day they shall remember that the Kal'dorei stood for what is good and right! That we stood by our friends and honoured our bonds of friendship and blood. By Elune and by all that you hold dear on this good earth, I bid you stand, Kal'dorei!"

They answered him with a huge roar. All doubt blown away by their renewed courage.

Abaddon narrowed his eyes and hissed in rage.

"Stormrage..."

Magina Stormrage placed his forehead on the flat of his blade as if in prayer. He whispered only one word.

"Shendelzare."

He shouted, "Abaddon. I challenge you to a duel. Man on man!"

"Bring it Stormrage!"

In the Blink of an eye, he disappeared from the front lines – and he leap'd high above Abaddon, bringing down a deadly blow.


Abaddon raised his large shield and intercepted the ruinous blow. From under his shield, his deadly blade lashed out, intent to catch Magina with a
devastating slash.

No mortal after being cut by Abaddon's blade could stand and fight - for his foul blade not only steals life, but also strength.

Magina was quicker than the blade. By a hair's breadth he avoided that deadly cut. Yet Magina sprang back as if wounded. The sheer force of that slash nicked Magina. Foul magicks from the fell blade snaked greedily for the wound like a blood-frenzied shark.

At Abaddon's beckoning, all his undead rushed forward, intending to trap Magina.

The soldiers under Magina lost heart to see their commander surrounded by a deadly trap. Leaderless, the army of the Sentinels froze. it was Terrorblade who took over and set them on the right path.

Terrorblade, far behind with the healers and not far in spirit from battle, burst to the front line and cried out hoarsely, “Foul! Foul! Foul! Dishonour to be
repaid with Death! Slay the foul knight!”

The soldiers, once disheartened to see Magina trapped by so foul a trap were now filled with a spirit of vengeance. They raised their spears and glaives, swords and lances. All were braying for blood.

Battle was joined on that day. Half a league, half a mile, half a mile onward. All in the plain of doom six hundred met ten thousand.

“Forward, Kal'dorei! Charge for Stormrage!”

The Kal'dorei shouted and charged.

Undead to the left of them, Undead to the right of them, Undead in their front. The Night Elves, Wardens, Druids and Sentinels, all six hundred of them met the thousands. Boldly they rode and ran. Into the jaws of death. Into the mouth of Hell. Glaives flung out like metal waves, meeting rotting flesh.

They flashed bare moonsabres; flashing as they turned them in the air, sabr'ing ghoul and necromancer in their charge. Right through the lines they broke. Gore and screams had filled the sky. The dying lay dead and the dead lay mangled.

In between blows, Magina remembered. His body fighting purely on reflex. A painful flashback started.

That starry night he met Shendelzare. She glowed, her beautiful skin shimmering in spite of the dull blue tunic she wore under her breastplate. Her eyes were like twin moons.


“Will you come back home? Come together with me?”


“I will come back this morning. Even From Quel'thas o'er the sea.” Magina promised, his gravelly voice nearly breaking.

He can't lose her. He cannot.

So Magina raised his head bravely against the heavens torn by screams; striding from out the carnage, he called on the name of the goddess.

"Elune! Pallas Elune!"

The goddess must have heard him and answered him.

Standing, he shouted there, conjointly the gift-giving goddess, and trouble immense was caused thereby to the undying.

All their minds were amazed--the fell necromancers and knights of great abomination, such fear was awakened in their bosoms, even though they were backed by vast lines of meat wagons, their evil machines of war.

Aghast, they surveyed the untameable blazes, horribly round the brow of high, heroic Stormrage burning, ignited by her the gift-giving Goddess.
Magina Stormrage was cloaked with magical flames.

Magina stood, flame-capped and shouted. Undead broke ranks in fear.

A noble stroke he raised and so swiftly moonblade fell on his foe, that no sight nor quick thought could detect it, lest Abaddon's large shield could
intercept, such a ruinous blow; ten paces huge, Abaddon's back recoiled, the tenth on bended knee, did he recover.

Abaddon raised a gloved palm in parley and spoke falsely and breathlessly,
“This bodes ill for you young elf. Fifty and ten score years you may be, but you are still one millennium too young to face me. Stand not between my defence of my master's land. We are as numerous as the sand on the seashore. You might think to fight me to win renown for yourself, but you and your brethren will face only certain death. Surrender and you may live.”

Before Abaddon even finished, a deadly dagger snaked forward, Magina parried the treacherous blade.
*
Magina hissed back, “Liar, this land was once free from the stain of the undead. Today day this land will vomit you out!”
*
Magina summoned a bolt of arcane energy and slammed the chaotic mix into his enemy's face. However, Abaddon was waiting,

Abaddon merely shrugged off the attack like it was nothing.

“You and what army? Your men are beaten into a rout while my legions will hound them all,” Abaddon sneered, pointing at his vast horde chasing down the retreating Sentinels.

Their charge was slowed by the ranks of the undead and forced to flee.

“If you have difficulty killing me, you ain't seen nothing yet.” Magina grinned.

“-What?” Abaddon frowned. Something had changed.

It was Furion, dressed in green and gold and raising a long gnarled staff. The druids answered his call.

A contingent of druids led by the Prophet Furion himself burst from the ground everywhere. They had burrowed deep in the ground days before, using their gifts from nature, digging underground everywhere.

The charge led by Terrorblade had already retreated to a safe place and took up a defensive position. The undead gave chase, thinking they routed their foes. It was a trap.

The Sentinels took up positions and waited for the undead giving chase. When they did, Furion sprung the next trap.

The druids diverted the river to flood the plain, whose soil was riddled with tunnels. In a matter of moments, a great north wind blew in huge heavy and dark clouds laden with rain and lightning. Earth that was hard and sun baked became mud. Where there were tunnels dug, they became a quicksand traps, trapping undead in the quagmire.

Legions of the Scourge found themselves stuck in mud and quicksand which they could not extract themselves from.

To their handlers merit, they quickly reacted by getting their minions to dig themselves out.

However Furion's trap was not complete.

Furion scattered seed from his pouch. With the support of his druids, wild and thrashing vines grew and multiplied, burying the struggling undead into the
muddy swamp and keeping them down. Slowly but surely, the vines broke down bone and marrow.

One brigade took down legions of the Scourge that day. The druids had won the day.

Abaddon was brimming with rage. He was completely out-witted. In his evil rage, he brought down his large wicked blade on Magina's head. Magina could not react in time. It was a fatal blow. Magina was struck down.

He didn't even have time to regret. He was only dimly aware that Shendelzare would cry over him.

Shendelzare. Shendelzare. Please don't let the darkness take my memory of her away. Magina struggled in his dying wish.

He tried to remember her eyes. Or the smell of her hair. Or the touch of her hands. They were slipping away. No.

Remembering her face was getting hard. Everything was being consumed by the darkness.

No. Don't let her go.

Magina could not hold on anymore.

He felt a surge of wellness and was at peace.

***

Shendelzare felt a chill in her heart when she saw Abaddon roaring in triumph. She felt totally powerless. She could not do anything. She was powerless.

Not powerless. She felt the key in her breast. Shendelzare was powerless. But she could do something. Her sister. No matter what they said about her. She could help. She was the only one able to.

***

Terrorblade was beside Magina, having cut down many foes in his desperate charge to save his dying twin. He was grimy and flecked with gore while his
warglaive was slippery with blood. He broke through five ranks of undead to reach his brother.

Everyone told Terrorblade to come back and save their wounded. But he would not listen. Even with injured night elves in his way, he paid them no heed. He had one goal.

He had to save Magina.

The Elder Stormrage tore forth, summoning all the power he had for the most powerful healing magicks he knew. The same one that saved Mortred from death.

Only to find himself trapped by the circle of the Scourge's generals. He could see it in their expressions. They were routed, but they would not go down without making the Sentinels pay.

“Save him.” He whispered in desperation. With his powers, he pumped healing forces into Magina. That deadly gash closed up. But Magina would not wake.

“So you'll fight me for a dead body? Foolish. Very foolish.” Abaddon drawled, lazily twirling his blade. That fiend was relishing his despair.

The elder Stormrage stood like a guardian over his brother's body. His blades unsheathed and ready to strike.

“Foul knave. In combat none was my match. Now that I have control over the druidic magics, you cannot hope to beat me, even if you are one of the Evils from the Twisting Nether,” Terrorblade declared.

The scary thing was that he was not bluffing about his power.

Abaddon shook his long graying tresses and his lined face showed supreme confidence. “Correct. But can you fight the five of us?”

Pudge the Butcher lumbered forward, its insides trailing about while its grotesque arms held wicked cleavers.

Anub'arak the Nerubian Assassin appeared out from nowhere, flashing his deadly pincers.

Kel'Thuzad the Lich floated, surrounded by levitating shards of ice. The powers of winter in his skeletal hands.

A winged being hovered above them. One of the Nathrezim, The dreadlord known as Balanar the Night Stalker.

Abaddon taunted him.

“We are merely holding back our powers. If all the forces of evil were to assemble here. We would tear this tiny land apart with our presence. This is the difference in our strength,” Abaddon exclaimed.

“Conjure Image."

There were three Terrorblades.

“Now we are even.” Terrorblade grinned grimly.

Two of his images stepped forward, facing off two opponents each.

Leaving Abaddon for the real Terrorblade.

“You insult us, mortal.” Kel'thuzad remarked, readying a powerful spell.

Terrorblade sprang forward, his left foot propelling forward. He aimed a crushing blow at Abaddon.

Instead of crushing armour and flesh with his deadly strike, Terrorblade seemed to have crashed head on with an unseen wall.

“Pitiful, you failed to notice the coils of pure power surrounding me, my Aphotic Shield. It absorbs some of the damage directed at me....”
Abaddon drew himself to his full height, clearly enjoying the moment.
“I return it in a full and explosive force!”

Terrorblade's eyes widened. He felt the air being torn apart and a violent lash of energy whipped him in the chest. He was flung back, head over heels and
left sprawling in the mud.

Terrorblade quickly got to his feet, baring his weapons for another round. Involuntarily he coughed. There was blood.

This was bad. He had taken severe internal injuries.

Before he could take another step, he instinctively twisted, narrowly avoiding the shard of ice magic directed at him. Terrorblade looked all around him.

His images were cut down by the champions of the Scourge in the moment he struck hard at Abaddon.

“Like I said, you insult us, elf.” said Kel'thuzad, dusting his skeletal fingers.

This was harder than he thought.

“Conjure Image.”

Two more Terrorblades appeared. Ready to strike.

“We can do this forever,” Terrorblade taunted, bluffing about the strain he was beginning to feel.

“Perhaps, but can your brother wait that long?” Abaddon said lazily.

Terrorblade felt his own brother's spirit slipping away.

He hated losing but he would not lose his brother. His twin. His friend.

He gnashed his teeth in frustration and jumped back, preparing for another healing ritual. This time it was far more powerful than any he mustered.
Terrorblade gave a bestial roar, giving up even his life force to revive his brother. All his power exploded into that one vital moment.

The effort was tremendous and the elder Stormrage felt dizzy.

“He won't come back. He is dead,” Abaddon cruelly remarked. His tall imposing figure was saddled on a monstrous horse enjoying everything he as observing. Like a mad emperor playing a fiddle while the city burned.

The elder Stormrage could not move his body which felt like lead. Breathing deeply, fighting the blackness that began eating away at his vision, he
looked desperately at his brother's eyes. His spell had to work.

There was no other hope.

Magina. Magina. Please.

The nasty gash on Magina's head was closed up, with only a dried splatter of blood and gore dripping down his beautiful tresses.

However Magina's eyes were lifeless.

“This is war. This is Death. Naive weakling. Do you think this is one of the poems you read? There is no reprieve. No rescue. Two great heroes will meet
their end here,” Abaddon boasted.

All about him, his infernal train of followers cackled in their own diabolical manner.

“Pudge! Eat Elf!” bellowed the stupid monster, to all the devilish fiends' dastardly delight.

Magina's brother stretched out his hand to his dead brother. To clasp it.

An even more terrible thought seized him. The Terrorblade was going to die. Terrorblade didn't want to die. Not now. There was the sound of a wicked laugh and a sword being unsheathed. He felt his own body being scooped up by Pudge and its jaws unhinged to crush his skull.
This was the end.

“Hush now,” a gentle voice crooned.

There was a thud and screams and everything ended.

[kennotlah]

Thanks guys. your comments kept me going.

This is not the end of the story. If you want this to be the end, then do not read any further.

@Wirthu: thanks. I am merely a humble student of poor talent and excellent ability to read literature. I will write professionally when it gets there. I'm just interested in telling a good story

[Strange_Kid]

nice, but terrorblade seems too weak ._.

[jlenriquez]

when will the next one come out??

XD

love ur story bro.

[kennotlah]

Act 4 Scene 1

Though the prisoner escapes, he is gravely wounded
His life is saved, however
By a woman of the opposing nation

He begins a life of seclusion with her
Which seems to hold the promise of eternal bliss

But as happiness grows, so does guilt
Of not fulfilling the oath to his friends

Dreams of the morrow hath the shattered soul
Pride is lost
Wings stripped away, the end is nigh

Quote from FF7 Crisis Core

It was warm. A very nice time to snuggle under the blankets.

He yawned and stretched out his body. He rubbed his eyes and swept back his long braided hair.

Staring blearily at his surroundings, he was in a wooden room with a little cot which he was on. There was the smell of cooking wafting into the room. The smell of cinnard cakes. A delicious flaky wafer. Biting into it gave the mouth-watering flavour of cinnamon and nard twined together like candy floss woven together.

“Hellooo?” chirped a sweet gentle voice, “Hurray! You are finally awake!”

It was a raven-haired elf. But a strange elf she was. She dressed in long dark robes and her skin was a hue of ebony. Highly unusual for an elf. No elf he knew had ebony skin.

“Thanks,” He tried sounding happy even though his head was pounding.

The strange elf walked up to him and touched his forehead with her slender fingers.

Those fingers were cooling upon his warm head.

"Who are you?" he slurred, his eyes half opened.

“My name is Akasha. I was so shocked to see you falling from the top of the cavern. Oh my Elune! I'm so glad that you are awake.” the elf gushed. Her enthusiasm was overpowering.

She threw her hands over him. That jolted him awake.

He was surprised and yet he felt reassured at the same time.

“Um... I'm...um...” He began racking his brain for the right thing to say. Anything to say. It was hurting too hard. His throat felt dry and swollen and he had a sudden urge to drink.

He remembered.

There was a great battle. He had fallen.

He croaked, "What happened to that battle? Did the Sentinels win?"

Cool slender touches caressed his hair. Comforting.

“Don't worry too much about it. Rest,” she crooned softly.

His eyes met hers. Her eyes were like deep tunnels. He could really go in there and wander forever.

He could feel his barely regained strength waning again.

He let Akasha put him back to bed to rest.

***

It was a strange dream.

He dreamt of a large plain of slain enemies and crowds of demons surrounded him like an unholy choir and bowing in worship.
“Terrorblade! Terrorblade! Terrorblade!” They chanted.

That name resonated deeply with himself. He recognized the name. It was his.

A flood of memories rushed him onwards carrying them in his wake.

What happened in days sped forward like a moment.

He was hunting escaped criminals and they set a terrible ambush. Arrows flew like deadly rain and killed everyone. Even him. A long haired elf with a cruel face laughed.

He was walking through a huge desert with blood dripping from him. The severed heads of many monsters trailed behind him. In his hand he held a severed head of the vile elf. He was too tired. He stopped and stripped his armour and looked down. He was a woman!

No. It was Mortred's memories. They don't belong here. How did they get here? Curious.

It dawned upon him like a lightning bolt flashing out from violet-tressed skies. The self-same lightning bolt descended upon a dry field and burned it up and burned it down in shrivelling ashes.

Then a podium of spun wood grew up and formed his father's sagely face which spoke. A very familiar exhortation to all students of the druidic artes.

"Ye have the ability to touch each others souls by what you do each day. Whether by the magicks you worketh or my the lands you guard. When two souls meet, they interact and walk away with a little something."

He felt his own mouth utter, "What is a soul?"

"Do you know what is a soul? Or of its importance?" a small still voice asked.

There was a face of a dread horned skull, which spoke in a cajoling voice.

"Come now. let this conversation be. There is no future out of pursuing that truth. If a soul must exist, it must exist in the brain. Mayhap it be the case that when you healed Mortred, there is a backwash of memories. Purely accidental. Easily explainable."

"Backwash of memories? It sounds like pseudo-magic to me. Manipulation of energies being messed around by a non-responsive recipient? Hogwash!" Magina's voice rang out and there were loud arguments. There was a loud powerful wind that rent the giant mountains. After the wind there was an earthquake and after the earthquake there was a fire. But after the fire there was a small still voice.

"What are you still doing here. Find the truth. Seek it."

The dream changed.

He was under a starry sky with an elven girl whispering sweet nothings.

Before his tongue could utter another word, he found himself doused in a watery darkness. Suffocating green darkness. A desperate whisper rang out from within him

“Magina...Magina”

A hand reached for him and grabbed him.

Terrorblade woke. He was alone in his room.

He knew what he had to do. He must return. He must know what happened to his brother.

He must.

[kennotlah]

that's act four.
@Strange Kid: Thanks. I know what you mean by Terrorblade appearing too weak. Unfortunately I am not very good with regulating the strength growth of characters.

@jlenriquez: thanks for your support. GMT +0800 Sunday is the day I post weekly unless something happens. Like internet failure or death/incapacitation of the author.

[jlenriquez]

oooh... that's great. well i just saw your story a few days ago and i read all the scenes straight except for the most recent one. btw. ur welcum and kip it up XD