The Void portal spat me out right in the middle of the Night Elf base. I was targeted by about a dozen Elf Archers. And Night Elf Huntresses. And a bunch of other people of all races and types, like those same dryads. And at least one priest, who recoiled, clearly sensing the energy of the Void.
"World Wanderer, this isn't funny. At all," I remarked into the closing violet vortex behind my back.
Seriously, dropping me right in the middle of the camp under the astonished gazes of the Sentinels is a bit weird. Especially when the nearest Night Elf priestess recoiled as if she'd seen an Abomination. An Elf Priest did too, but this one waved his hand, causing his body to relax slightly. I shrugged at the surprised elf, as if to say, I wasn't using the Void, it doesn't burn.
But the Night Elf Sentinels leveled their weapons. Bows, "glaives"... well, what these perverts call them, spears, swords. And their leader, the owner of proper armor, a closed helmet, and a massive black cat, demanded:
"Name yourself! Immediately."
I snorted. No, I could have been polite, but I'm not in the mood. It's been a long, damn it, and very nervous night. And I sort of—more accurately, it was the World Wanderer—broke a necropolis. And I have absolutely no desire to play along with them. My boss is Jaina, not these people. And I'll be reporting to her.
"I am not your subordinate for you to command me. And anyway," I found the eyes of the nearest Systems Alliance soldier, "Surveyor Davilinia has returned from her mission. Report to Lady Jaina or the officer on duty, move it!"
And for greater visual impact, I rolled up the sleeves of my cloak, revealing the gloves familiar to many and the Theramore patch hidden under the fabric of the sleeves. The cloak shifted; the Cloak works well enough in daylight, but the edges of the cloak are clearly visible, and the silhouette can be easily determined. Though the half-mask covering my face is still useful. The soldier exchanged a look with his comrade and ran off, pushing through those gathered to watch the sudden scandal. It was time for me to go too; I don't like being the center of attention.
I couldn't leave; the path was blocked by a massive, car-sized black tiger. The cat raised its head to my level and growled, showing fangs nearly as long as my forearm. The huntress sitting on it with a chakram sternly declared:
"You are going nowhere."
I looked up at her and, with a click, shifted my claws into combat position, raising my mana-shield. I also deployed the power hammer, clearly demonstrating how the gloves reconfigured from simple plate into a weapon-laden combat complex. Yes, I'm still short, but otherwise, I have enough strength to fight back.
"I am going. And it's not for you to stop me."
The huntress flinched at the sight, and the cat growled low.
"A Mage. A Kaldorei Mage. How disgusting. No wonder your ears are just like their mages'. Stand still; the Druids will decide your fate."
I snorted. I decide my fate, well, for the most part. And certainly not Malfurion Stormrage. Though the fact that, thanks to the Cloak hiding most of my body, I was taken for a Night Elf is funny, I won't deny it. Но that doesn't mean every zoophile is allowed to push me around.
"I didn't ask for your opinion. Get out of the way," I won't say nasty things about the Night Elf leaders for obvious reasons. I'm not suicidal.
The elf pointed her "glaive" at my chest, so that it almost pressed into the barrier. In any other situation, I would have already done something. For example, cast polymorph. But I really don't want to start something like that in a combat situation. We are allies, sort of. And if I put the guards in polymorph, Jaina, and therefore I, will have problems, which is undesirable.
Apparently, the elf decided I was surrendering, because she said sternly, but with clear triumph:
"You are detained pending investigation. Resistance is considered complicity with demons. Punishable by life imprisonment or destruction, whichever happens."
I was saved from an area-of-effect magic attack by the appearance of a disgruntled Jaina, clearly sleepy and with circles under her eyes, and her loud question:
"What is going on here? Davilinia, where have you gotten yourself into again? And why do you need saving again?"
I floated up and waved to my boss.
"Over here, Lady Jaina. And why "gotten into" right away? I damaged a necropolis. And I don't need saving, just a bit of cover. I'm a good girl, I'm useful, a hero and a winner. I just stepped out of a portal, so they were surprised."
The wizard sighed, rubbing her hand over her face. She had definitely been sleeping; her hair, which was in disarray, and her very crumpled face indicated as much. It seemed the soldier had run up, the wizard had been shaken awake, and upon hearing the name, she had appeared herself. Overall, I expected something like this, though seeing how worn out my boss was, I feel a bit of sympathy. On the other hand, it's still better than ending up in a Night Elf prison. Who knows, they might hand me over to Maiev Shadowsong's Sentinels; they have, if I'm not mistaken, just regular mages in prison who refused to give up their power. Right next door to Illidan Stormrage. No thanks, surrendering to the Night Elves is even worse than to my own nobility.
So forgive me, Jaina Proudmoore, you are suffering for my sins. I'll give you a cake later.
"I was briefed. That was you? And how did you get here? I don't recall teaching you portals."
Here, the same huntress suddenly snitched.
"She appeared from a vile violet portal. Unpleasant, not like yours."
Jaina looked suspiciously at the crystals in my gloves, which I still hadn't shifted out of combat position. No, not violet. No, I wasn't dabbing in the void, not even a little. Apparently not noticing an unhealthy eye color or other signs of infection, Jaina just silently waved, as if to say, follow me.
The elf tried to object.
"I must detain the violator."
The wizard measured the huntress with a heavy gaze.
"This is my officer under my command. And I make the decision regarding her fate. Davilinia, follow me."
We headed into the depths of the elf base, along mysterious paths full of tracks of mysterious beasts. There are no huts on chicken legs, but there are Furbolgs — humanoid furry bears. Truly massive, as if grizzly bears had started walking permanently on their hind legs and using primitive tools.
I slowed down a bit to get a better look at them; I hadn't had the chance before. Truly large, but still not quite animals. Hunchbacked, with long arms, something between a paw and a hand. Furries. They live in houses hollowed out of a fallen tree trunk. The trunk was sawed into pieces, each piece a separate house. They are moved into a ring, doors facing inward with a fire pit in the center. Clearly, the log serves as both home and wall; they live in a tribal system. But they are strong, a convenient expendable resource for the Night Elves.
Well, we went further, past Moonkins, a strange hybrid of an owl with horns and a fat penguin. Yeah, it seems the Night Elves keep a whole array of natives around them who are ready to fight for them if necessary. I don't even see metal things; wood, bone, feathers, hides. Those are all the materials. While I'm constantly turning my head, the wizard, falling asleep on the move, just walked past.
Including when a horn of alarm sounded and the sentients nearby started running. Jaina just waved her hand, and even this gesture she performed with noticeable effort. But she explained:
"Demons are attacking almost continuously since we lost the orc base. Artillery, Fel Reavers, infantry. The last ten hours — almost as many attacks; it seems they've put everything they had into play, there's simply no time to rest. We blew up part of the forest, creating a blockage; they cleared it with a Fel Reaver. We caused landslides; it slowed them down, but nothing more. Except from the air, things aren't so bad. Ghouls and raids by Doomguards strike groups, but the demons have too few of them. You are very tired; can you go to the front line?"
Not particularly. I slept well enough, and I haven't cast any spells at all. The night was nervous, but without stimulants and heavy doses of sorcery, I definitely feel better than Jaina.
"I haven't cast spells, Lady Jaina, only the bare minimum. I can continue for the next few hours. Until lunch, or even until dinner."
The wizard nodded, but a heavy sigh escaped her anyway. Partly because shots and the pops of explosions rang out in the distance.
"Good. You'll help after the report. The sentients need rest. For now — let's go."
Well, what can I do? I do as I'm told, especially since we passed through the Furbolg "quarters" and came out to the living quarters. For the Systems Alliance forces, or rather the headquarters, the Night Elves allocated one of the houses. Actually, a regular wooden two-story house, made in the Night Elf style. That means twenty-foot ceilings and maximum open spaces so that even a bear and the dryads' men would have enough room.
For the Night Elves, it's normal to have a gate instead of a proper entrance, without the slightest hint of doors. So that a guest can surely enter. Or a domestic riding tiger.
No, there are normal houses too, and they even have a door. I understand that the priestesses and those who don't use animals or can't transform into them live there. But a situation of a simple canopy without a visible lock and with incomplete walls is the norm.
And never mind us, High Elves; we have magic defense set up almost everywhere. If there's no visible door, there will at least be a film of a magic field. And more likely there will be a door, a barrier, and some kind of golem. The Night Elves demonstrate an unexpected level of mutual trust in this matter for those who live in a forest full of wild beasts. And midges and mosquitoes. The city folk got the same kind of house.
The Theramore people solved the issue simply and mundanely — with a matte magical barrier and a couple of guards at the entrance, who straightened up at the sight of the boss. And we went inside. Actually, if you think about it… there aren't many people here. Even considering the losses, no one is standing to the death; troops were withdrawn to the rear, as were the wounded. This isn't a game where tens of thousands of soldiers just stand until the end; there is always a path and an order to retreat. And now there are far fewer sentients at the Night Elf base than there theoretically should be. It doesn't add up.
"Lady Jaina, has the evacuation begun?"
The wizard nodded.
"Yes, we are moving non-combatant forces north, away from the mountain. The demons already know about this, you saw," I nodded, remembering the attack on the hospital, "but the main direction of attack is here, the World Tree. So the pressure here is incomparably higher than there. The strongest are returning here to hold the defense. The rest are retreating so as not to get in the way."
The wizard said the last part with a hint. Considering she previously said I'd be heading back to the front line, it's a compliment. And that's quite pleasant.
"Thank you, Lady Jaina."
The wizard nodded, letting me through to the second floor. There we passed several areas separated by screens to a balcony with a canopy, where the wizard's office turned out to be. Literally a large balcony, the size of a room, four by five meters, with a gabled canopy roof, an unmade bed, and a large table full of papers, grimoires, and notebooks. There's also a chest here, on which several sets of uniforms are piled, one of which belongs to a Dalaran apprentice and several clearly for formal wear. It seems the wizard, so as not to do laundry, just stockpiles them.
There's no such thing as railings. Though the magical soundproofing is good; the noise from the street, including the roar of something large, is almost inaudible. Also a good view of the work of an undead frost wyrm; huge ice crystals tearing through flesh, wood, and stone, turning buildings into bizarre ice figures with frozen sentients. Creepy, damn it. And impressive. Though I can do just as well, but specifically with magic, not just breath.
Jaina, entering the office, collapsed onto a chair and almost lay down on the desk. But a second later she pulled herself together and sat up, albeit with effort.
"Doesn't the wind blow the papers away?"
The wizard pointed to the haze around the balcony — a magic barrier. Well, yeah, logical.
"Good, now tell me. Just keep it short, please."
Well, I told her. How I passed out cold; the side effects took their toll. That those around me apparently died faster than they could wake me. And what I saw and heard from the Undead. Then, how I snuck onto the necropolis, the stupid zombies and the planes. And then…
"And?" the wizard asked, "what's wrong?"
I'm not sure I want to talk about the World Wanderer. It's clear how they'll react. "Don't play with strange ethereal-traders," something like that, yeah. Or "don't go into strange portals with strange men." Sensible advice, overall.
The problem here is that I don't really have anything to argue about. I have no idea who this World Wanderer is or what he wants. It seems he was following me; he didn't just come to help for no reason. And that means he has his own interest, unknown to me. And the external worlds… right now the very idea of going somewhere with him looks extremely risky. If anything happens, I simply won't be able to return.
On the other hand, I can't say that I'm opening portals myself. At the very least because I won't be able to repeat such an experience. I don't know portal magic at all; I was always told it was "too early" to learn it. And a Void portal… it's easier for elves; humans, with their spread of the religion of Holy, will have questions. And Jaina is a human, and I have no idea how she'll react to the explanation.
In short, I need to answer as neutrally as possible:
"I was helped, Lady Jaina. I was pulled out of a trap by a portal. In the process, the necropolis… detonated, right? Inside were stockpiles of a new poison that they were going to unleash on the defenders' positions. I was told a detonation would occur in the process."
The wizard nodded, continuing to rub her eyes.
"Scouts reported that it didn't collapse, but one half was heavily damaged and shrouded in green mist. So, you were helped. By whom?"
I spread my hands.
"A creature from the void, an ethereal. A ghost in bandages."
Jaina demanded a description of said mummy, his abilities; however, I can say little. He only opened portals in front of me and followed me somehow. That's literally all I know about the World Wanderer. Also that he wants to sign me up for work with the Armies of Light and some demon. It's not clear in what configuration. In short, I can tell her very little. Finally, the wizard nodded, more or less satisfied with the answer.
"Good, I don't think I'll learn anything else. Are you ready to continue? Without Alchemy," I nodded, "then it's settled. You did well, you handled things well there. Now head to the western part of the camp. A road leads there, and your comrades are there now, Surveyor. And try not to get into too much trouble, okay? And don't forget to pick up your helmet; it's on the first floor. Remember, we are stalling for time, not fighting to the death. Be ready to pull back if necessary."
A helmet is good; it muffles sounds and has a bunch of useful functions. Including protection from smells, which is incredibly relevant in the case of the Undead.
"Of course, Lady Jaina."
Picking up the helmet is important; at the same time, I looked at the mood of the people in the building. Overall — businesslike. No panic, no grim doom of the condemned. We are all doing our jobs. They gave me the helmet without any problems; it seems I already have some reputation; just a demonstration of the gloves and the patch was enough. I replaced the cloak with a regular one; I don't have a second cloaking one, and it might get damaged in battle.
And I ran out of the building, looking around. The Night Elf base is larger than the others. I wouldn't be surprised if this is a permanent base for guarding the World Tree, located at its foot. From here, the tree seems even more imposing; its massive trunk and branches loom over us like a colossal mass, making it quite dark here. After all, part of the light is taken by the tree's crown. And part — by the forest overhead. Because of this, a natural twilight reigns in places, which is exacerbated by a huge number of different creatures. Which move among the grass, run, and fly.
Also, dryads, half-girls, half-deer run here and there, dashing past, using their four limbs to easily run around those walking slowly along the path. Me, for example. Which is annoying. You're walking, minding your own business, and suddenly a deer dashes past, almost hitting your helmet, clicking its hooves, and even sticks its tongue out. Annoying!
And yet the sensations of a regular shadow and the local twilight differ. There is no feeling of darkness, danger, or being watched. It is precisely the contrast of the bright light above us and the forest shadow in which we are located. A shadow full of life, the undergrowth. Perhaps it's the aura of the tree itself, the magic being spread. But this place seems… right, calm. Alive. Logical, considering the local magic.
The Night Elf base itself is radically different from everything that came before. It's a forest village, at first glance. At Theramore and with The Horde, the territory was cleared of trees, trampled, and the trees themselves were used for construction.
Not here. Here it's a natural forest with paths, but where no one walks, grass still grows waist-high. Night Elf wooden houses cluster separately, of various sorts and kinds, some grown from trees with added decorative elements. Some are classic wooden buildings, like the one where Jaina's headquarters was placed, or something resembling a mushroom hollowed out from the inside.
There are stone-paved paths and other signs of habitation, for example — a Moonwell. A stone-lined pond with a wooden arch with "horns." The pond literally glows with a soft blue light and radiates magic so much that it's visible even without magical vision. A guard consisting of a priestess and a couple of Night Elves constantly walks by the Moonwell.
There are also Furbolg houses kept to the side. They look fresh, probably built recently as part of the siege. I was actually interested in the mechanics by which the wisps gather wood. They literally grow the necessary structural elements on the trunk with magic without damaging the trunk itself, but breaking off the necessary grown components. Waste-free production; the forest looks almost the same after growing as it did before.
A separate place is occupied by a temple made of white stone. Or rather its ruins; this building clearly hasn't been renovated in a very long time. It's clear that once this was a substantial temple in the Greek or Roman style, made of white marble with many columns, white floor tiles, gardens, and bas-reliefs. But after the fall of the Empire, it was cared for, but no longer particularly repaired. So now these are neat, clean, but ruins. Overgrown with grass and trees that have shifted the floor tiles, opening access to nature.
Stone galleries have been replaced by wooden ones; in some places, Night Elf Treants are growing. Those same humanoid trees with faces. Their roots also break open and push aside the stone tiles. They aren't particularly mobile, but their attention, their gaze, is felt. And they feel like just as much a part of nature's advance on the work of elven hands. Every little tree, every vine emphasizes who rules this land now.
And only the Moonwell, the second one, bears signs of both care and repair. Another stone-lined pond under the moonlight, looking like new. And it radiates magic just as brightly as the first one. And the priestesses clearly live in a wooden building nearby, not in the stone ruins at all. This is still a place of worship, but it's noticeable how the forest and nature are gradually displacing the cold stone. A rejection of the past, as it is.
Such islands of order coexist with literal forest, where huge ancient firs stand alongside magical trees, at the foot of which, in the undergrowth, quite small sentients walk by comparison. The Night Elves, despite being larger than the High Elves, are frankly lost against the backdrop of the forest. They aren't the masters; they are "one of." The forest, nature, is primary.
And it's all the more noticeable against the backdrop of this riot of forest—the active traces of battle. Piles of Ghoul corpses, entwined by the roots of a nearby tree, literally crushed. Charred and damaged Treants, blood on the ground. Wounded animals with Druids walking around them. Oh. Familiar faces.
"Alastir?"
The Druid, sitting near a large chimera whose hide was hacked with numerous cuts, turned around. The beast, which had been lying down, also turned both heads on its long necks toward me. It took considerable concentration not to shift my gloves into combat mode. This thing is huge! A Nazgûl wouldn't refuse such a beast as a mount; it could eat me in one bite.
And yet I held back. I have a mana-shield up, and Alastir won't let me be eaten. Probably.
"Davilinia. Is everything alright?" seeing my questioning look, he nodded and stroked the lizard's neck, "you can come closer."
Approaching a massive lizard that can swallow you with even one mouth is scary. On the other hand, I have active protection, and the lizard looks battered, doesn't growl in my direction, and doesn't breathe acid or electricity.
The chimera clearly got caught in heavy fire. I don't even need magical vision to see the black-green wounds left by Fel. And these wounds clearly aren't in a hurry to heal. In magical vision, the poisoning is also visible. Even if the wounds aren't deep, the Fel still poisons them. The poison spreads through the veins, making the beast flinch and breathe heavily with clear wheezes audible even to me. The Fel is killing it.
"Fine, Alastir. When we're done, I'd like to discuss Qiraji magic. And some of its, um, aspects."
The Druid was again distracted from healing and trying to suppress the poison in the beast's wounds. I could try to draw out the Fel, but I'm not sure poking a real dragon face with claws is a good idea. I'm almost certain — as long as it's not dying, the chimera will be radically against such interference.
The Druid, like Jaina before him, looked at the crystals in the gloves. And again found no violet glow, which made him relax.
"What did you find out?"
I nodded at the chimera, which nudged the Druid in the side with a head, which the elf immediately stroked to scratch the base of the neck. The chimera's grumbling turned back into a wheeze. And I even felt sorry for the beast. It's massive, of course, but cute.
"Now? Nothing critical, it can wait until after the battle. Especially since your priestess friend offered to let me stay with them for a couple of weeks. To recover. And I'd like to accept the offer. Just so you know, we'll discuss it there."
The Druid nodded. Something exploded ahead.
"Good. Anything else?" he asked, clearly hinting that he was busy.
"No, I must go."
And I quickly headed toward the sounds of battle, closer and closer to the front line. Here the forest is already affected by fires, trees are broken, some destroyed. Shards of stone gargoyles lie around, violet blood poisoning the ground and trees in patches, so I can smell the stench even through my helmet. A lot of blood. And also craters, several fragments of Infernals, scorched earth where they landed. Burnt and collapsed trees blocking movement. A huge forest caught under heavy fire collapses, turning into a windfall. Blockages of timber and stone, with several paths laid through them so that one can move at least somehow.
I passed by Night Elf ballistae firing blades and long spears, and some of these ballistae are destroyed. Craters on the ground and scorch marks on nearby trees, new pieces of Infernals. Some machines are damaged, and three are simply destroyed and burnt. This is where the trenches begin, long threads leading forward, including under the blockages of ancient trees and Treants.
URRUVUUURRRRRRRRR!!!
I flinched at the sound. It's hard not to recognize those sounds, as well as the rhythmic thud of footsteps that make the ground underfoot tremble. A Fel Reaver, one or several, is going somewhere, most likely toward us. This is tense, and not just for me. The soldiers at the ballistae immediately jumped up as soon as the low, visceral hum shook the space. Instead of blades, they started shoving in bolts with containers of green goo built in. Acid? Not superfluous; it eats the metal of these robots perfectly.
"Load! Move, move!"
I was about to rush forward toward the front line, but stopped when the light changed. The sky turned red. This had happened before too.
"Oh, great."
And, confirming the scale of the problem, green meteors began to fall from the crimson heavens. Not one or two, but about two dozen. Flying in our direction. Billy, get up. We're about to receive guests. The stone golem with massive forelimbs stopped behind my back as usual, ready to shield its mistress, meaning me, from a strike from above.
"Infernals!"
Fine, I'll stay here and cover the artillery. Especially since from here the front line is perfectly visible; if anything happens, I can use the glove. Over there, ahead, there's nothing extra left, no extra trees, only Treants growing among the windfall, piles of logs dug in over the trenches and bunkers. Apparently also as cover and to delay the attackers.
Ahead, on the slope beyond the base, movement appeared. Quite far away; from here, even with the helmet's zoom, one can see the numerous backs of Ghouls and the Abominations looming over them. Among them, mortar shells immediately began to explode with a whistle, and bullets struck. It seems some amount of ammunition still remains, which is good.
Binoculars. Among the attackers, compared to the first waves, there are fewer Undead and more demons. Many Felhounds, rushing at the soldiers like a pack of zerglings, tearing apart both armored footmen and elf-druids. Growths on their backs flare up; the creatures can drain mana from a target to recover. And to screw over mages, of course.
Now, after everything, watching soldiers literally being torn to pieces is possible almost without a shudder. And watching the demons themselves die under the blows of swords, spears, and from the arrows of the elf women sitting right on the trees, too. The Third War is not an experience I would want to repeat today, tomorrow, or ever again. I've never received so many shitty memories. And since this is Azeroth, I don't think bad experiences will leave me alone. In short, you get used to the deaths.
The Night Elf archers strike into the air too, as gargoyles circle above them, shrieking as they unleash magical blades on the defenders. The elf women dodge some; others… one here lost an arm, literally severed by a hit, lost her balance and fell down. Her fate couldn't be determined due to the numerous obstacles. Maybe she was caught, maybe she crashed, or maybe she survived; after all, they should have been taught how to fall.
Just a few meters from them, dryads and Druids are leaping, unleashing stars from the heavens and flashes of Elune's flame on the dead. Bright enough, they are hard to miss. Magic and tough, magically reinforced hide against desecrated blades.
Against the backdrop of this almost close-quarters combat, other figures move. More massive ones. Goblin Shredders, circular saws hacking demons. Dwarf tanks that still survived are firing heavy high-explosive shells in high arcs, ballistae and catapults are firing from the rear, drenching the massive, slowly rising figures on the walls. Fel Reavers, climbing the mountain.
The colossi, looming over the trees, are clearly having a hard time climbing the steep slope; they do it very slowly, even slower than usual, leaning on all limbs, but even so, they don't hurry. Which the artillerists take advantage of, attacking the large targets that don't dodge at all; you could say they are firing almost like a textbook.
And it works; one Fel Reaver stopped and even began to slide back down the mountain, trying to grab everything in sight with its huge limbs, judging by the very loud cracking, but disappeared behind the slope. Among the artillerists, this caused a surge of joy. Not for long, however; the artillery sergeant, looking at the sky, called out to his subordinates. And I began to scatter spells.
"Ice spikes. Frost field. Magical Arrows. Elemental barrier."
And then the Infernals rained down on us. Green meteors, leaving a flaming trail of green smoke and fire, crashed into the artillery positions quite uncontrollably. During Grommash's purging, not so much of this crap rained down on us, but now… I see about thirty meteors. And most of them landed on our heads. High-explosive artillery and paratroopers simultaneously; numerous explosions blind, melt, and set everything around on fire. And more and more keep falling from the heavens.
"Get ready. Everyone fall back!" the sergeant shouted, and the artillerists hid in the nearest trench, "get down!"
The meteors struck our positions with a roar. Not particularly accurately, but each one exploded into a massive fireball upon landing, crushing and igniting everything around. After which, a stone golem figure burning with green flame steps out of the flare of the explosion. Two fell into the trenches, near the artillerists, and the pops of shots and the ring of swords rang out there. There's enough of this shit here for everyone. Frostbolts!
"Billy, go!"
The nearest infernal immediately locked limbs with Billy, who was preventing it from bringing its stone fists down on the closest ballista. Billy, apparently unable to think of anything cleverer, slammed his stone head into the infernal's. The Legion spawn's head shattered into pieces, and it froze, losing its form. It looked finished; the spell's stability was broken. Next! Billy, pounding his fists together, charged forward and grabbed another one, lifting it up to use as a battering ram.
"Um, is it okay that they don't have spines?" While he was carrying it, the infernal was pummeling his head and shoulders with its fists. "Everything's fine? You guys are wrestling? Alright then. I'll deal with the others."
The second infernal was encased in a shrinking ice sarcophagus, trying to melt its way out with its fire. I lifted it higher, forming an ice column beneath its feet, attempting to force ice into the golem's joints to tear it apart that way. With a rustling sound, chunks of limbs showered down from above, followed by the torso and legs. Another ice wave immobilized it. I'd finish it off later.
The third one crashed directly onto a Dwarf Battle Tank, punching through the roof. The tank's ammunition cooked off, the mortar mounted on the roof fell inside, and a plume of fire erupted from the breached ceiling. After that, my block of ice fell on top of it.
"Stay there."
I turned to the fourth one, which was crushing ballistas with its burning stone fists to the sound of a guttural screech. Tough bastard—it was ignoring arrows and everything else. The other ballistas might still be operational, so I had to hurry. Casting levitation, I flew toward the infernal, peppering it with Magical Arrows. The monster noticed my approach and began to circle the ballista, losing chunks of stone with every hit. It walked right into the path of a power hammer.
"Thunderfist. And a second one."
Ultimately, these rock piles were melee combatants and not particularly mobile; it was hard to miss. Though they were sturdy, killing one with piercing or slashing weapons was almost pointless. My Magical Arrows were honestly provoking it more than damaging it. But a power hammer—that was a different story. The first hit tore off the infernal's arm, which crumbled into stone dust across the area. The second hit—scattering debris in every direction—tore off its head along with part of its torso. The infernal froze mid-motion, arm extended forward. Done.
To the sound of a jaunty clatter, a colleague of the destroyed golem began to climb out of the tank. A bit battered, but still functional. With a screech, the ice block covering the hole in the roof shifted, revealing massive stone fingers gripping the metal. The metal plate jerked, showing the giant was moving it, trying to find leverage to pull itself out.
"I said—stay down!" I sent a hail of ice shrapnel into the limb.
The icicles didn't impress the golem. Using fire was useless. But if I... shifted the seal to—The Void. Violet energy flowed beneath my fingers, forming a sphere resembling a small black hole, or rather, a star with a glowing disk being devoured by one. Try this.
"Catch!"
With a faint hum, the sphere streaked from my fingers, leaving a lingering trail, and slammed into the infernal's outstretched hand. The limb crumbled and fell away, clearly having lost all the golem's structural integrity. On the contrary, the stone had become extremely brittle and fragile, which is why it snapped. Judging by the thud, the infernal fell back down to the bottom of the tank. Well, that's that. What about the others?
The one that had been frozen and was trying to thaw out—now armless—was being hacked apart by the locals. I refreshed the magical ice so it wouldn't move. Even magical flames needed time to burn through it. Billy had finished his as well, though he'd lost a leg and half an arm.
Right, time to deal with the one in the tank and call it a day. Assessing the machine's condition, I simply punched several new holes in the already destroyed vehicle with the power hammer. The first was to see the target. The subsequent ones were to crush the large rock burning with green fire into smaller, non-burning pieces.
"Well, that's everything. Looks like we're done here."
On the horizon, the attack had also sputtered out. The Fel Reavers turned around and were retreating, apparently unwilling to take artillery salvos indefinitely like before. It made sense; if they clogged the pass with their own carcasses, new ones wouldn't be able to get through at all—the slope was too narrow and steep. There was only one road up. Or they'd have to use wings—an airborne drop with heavy losses. Though I didn't think such a trifle would stop Archimonde now, after all the trouble he'd gone to.
In any case, the attack ended there, and the artillerymen crawled out of their shelters to assess the damage. I went to look for my people. It proved difficult, but Paladin elves are rare in general, and our Dartaola is unique. It only took the second soldier from Theramore to give me the right direction. She was found near the front lines, by a dugout, eating some kind of steak against the backdrop of a massive dead Demon's blood dripping inside. Given that the blood was green and I remembered the Orcs, I had another flashback to Grommash. I hadn't seen him yet.
The indifference with which Dartaola ate meat next to something that could curse her was a little unsettling.
"Dartaola. Are you alright?"
The Paladin, clearly lost in thought, immediately looked up. Fatigue, a slight sense of doom, and a readiness to face whatever crap was inevitably coming were clearly visible in her eyes. Above her—and the dugout in general—was a previously green but now noticeably scorched Treant with arms, next to which lay a pile of boulders and the Demon corpse whose entrails served as unsanitary decor.
And looming over the trench was a Mountain Giant, currently completely motionless, making it look like a statue. But the log used as a club and the fact that it was standing upright said it was alive and dangerous.
Dartaola, looking up at my voice, jumped up happily.
"Davilinia! I haven't seen you since yesterday! What happened? Where did you disappear to?"
I gave the most polite smile I could. I could tell her, but I didn't want to. Partly so as not to ruin her mood. There weren't many reasons for joy here as it was. The equally battered soldiers sitting in a row nearby chewing their rations confirmed this. Dartaola was likely acting as their healer and support.
"I was elsewhere, covering the artillery, don't worry. I'm quite capable of smashing four or five infernals now without consequences, and those nasty things keep dropping right on the artillery positions. I'm fine, alive and well. How are you?"
Hearing this, the Paladin relaxed and sat back down, inviting me to join her. The soldiers immediately pulled back their legs to let me through.
"A little tired," the elf clearly understated, "but the Holy Light protects us. The Demons grow more furious the more we retreat. It's as if they realize their time is running out and are in a hurry to vent all their rage."
I nodded.
"The Demons are failing, plan after plan. But brute force works; there are just so many of them."
There was no arguing with that. No one was clearing the corpses; there was nowhere to put them and no time. As Jaina said, and as I could see from the destruction, the defenders were given minimal respite. As soon as enough strength was gathered, the blow followed immediately. Except their artillery was suffering just as much as ours.
"And they're hardy bastards," grunted an Orc sitting nearby, "but if you give 'em a good hit with an axe, they die all the same."
We sat for a while, talking. I remembered my attitude toward these sentient beings during the first attacks. Toward the soldiers, toward everyone. Fastidious, surprised when I saw these "cabinets" running around all day in plate armor. Disgust at the greasy jokes. And here we were, in the same trench with Orcs, three elf huntresses hiding in the shadow of the Treant, and a Tauren chewing something next to them. We were here, and on the other side were the Demons; it didn't matter what race you were—it was either us or them.
Except the situation wasn't hopeless at all, even if it looked that way to the uninitiated. Just hold out for another couple of days—even less, about a day—and Malfurion would finish gathering the wisps, and everything would be fine. Without their Archdemon, the local forces' combat potential would plummet, and there was no point at all for the Undead to lay down their entire roster. They'd flee to the Eastern Kingdoms to consolidate their success.
It's actually curious; in the canon, thanks to Illidan Stormrage's actions, part of the Undead broke free from control under the leadership of Sylvanas Windrunner. Но сейчас the Ranger-General should be alive. How will history change this time? I don't know, but it's definitely interesting.
The Demons returned three more times. Three times they washed over the tree's defenses on the ground and in the air. And three times they were defeated. Through the efforts of the infantry, the Ancient Protectors breaking Demons with their branch-arms. Tyrande Whisperwind with her Starfall and the Druids—when the Demons became especially numerous—unleashing Treants on them. Carefully, though—the forest for creating living trees wasn't infinite, and it was actively burning and being destroyed by shelling. Through the blizzards of the Mages, including Jaina and the Teacher. The Wizard had rested a bit and returned; I saw her in the rear.
As a result, in just three or four hours, the more or less intact but partially charred forest turned into a mixture of mud, corpses, burnt tree trunks, and crap. First, flesh, wood, and stone were crushed by mighty blows, then burned in the green flames of Fel. Then the blizzard, ice blocks, and Arcane salvos joined in. What remained melted, leaving behind ice and snow dirty with blood and soot, and sprawling mud that, through the Druids' efforts, bogged down everything and was churned by enemy artillery.
This lovely view was completed by the corpses of Demons and Undead, the charred carcasses of Abominations, clouds of green mist, and puddles of green Demonic blood turning the surface into hard slag. And in the middle of this, we sat in the trenches. Fun... just mind-numbingly fun.
And yes, you could go out for a stroll... but not for long, because the Undead had enough of their own assassins and Rogues. It was better not to even go to the latrine alone. But despite this, the Demons never broke the defense. The attacks ended in nothing; the mountains of corpses grew higher. We took losses, they took losses. Но Mount Hyjal did not yield to the Demons.
And then, that familiar sound rang out again. The signal that a new round of total hell was beginning.
VVUUUUUUURRRRUUUVUUUURRRRRRRR!!!
And several others answered it.
***
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