The Argent Stand

Clouds hung low and oppressive on the horizon as the death knights passed out of Grizzly Hills and into Zul’Drak. They rode single file with Necrothirst taking point and Tamasi bringing up the rear. Kyladriss wandered in and out of the column of riding knights on all fours, her hackles bristling at anyone who so much as glanced at her.

It was not difficult to keep her controlled as long as there were no enemies in sight. Just the day before, she had spotted a pair of renegade worgen from the pack that had been hers for mere days. Before anyone could stop her, she sprinted for the treeline. Thankfully she was too occupied with killing the worgen to go to ground again, and Necrothirst easily caught up with her. Now if she stopped to sniff something on the side of the trail, Necrothirst called her back before she could get very far.

Saelessa still moved stiffly, but she was better than she had been in the battle. She was getting used to the injury. If Necrothirst had anything to say about it, she wouldn’t have that injury much longer. As much as it pained him to have to look after a kaldorei, he needed her in peak condition. This was a war front, not Azerothian wilderness.

The snow on the ground gave way to packed earth and short, scrubby bits of grass. To their right as they rode were rows of what had probably been crops at one time. Necrothirst could smell troll voodoo from his saddle. Elementals, barely bound by their troll masters, wandered around the crops. They didn’t have the clear blue color healthy elementals would - rather they were dark blue or green, a symptom of scourge taint. If Zul’Drak had ever been a beautiful place, it was a long time before the Lich King arrived.

They rode toward Light’s Breach, the Argent Crusade’s forward base in Zul’Drak. It was a modest camp, surrounded on three sides by a crumbling wall. A defensible position. The Scourge would only be able to overrun the crusaders here if they brought vastly superior numbers.

Vastly superior numbers was what Necrothirst and his knights were there to prevent. There was nothing better than a death knight for thinning out one’s enemy’s numbers - except six death knights. Kyladriss, with her recklessness and lack of fear, probably counted as two death knights.

Crusaders stared at them or backed away as they rode into camp. Kyladriss appeared to be the source of their consternation, and the worgen knew it. She bared her teeth and growled, hunching in on herself and sidling up to Necrothirst’s mount.

The Deathcharger vanished in a puff of smoke as Necrothirst dismissed it, walking toward the paladin who appeared to be in charge. “Necrothirst of the Ebon Blade, reporting. Thassarian sent us as reinforcements.” He reached into one of his bags and produced his written orders, handing them to the paladin.

The human read over the orders quickly, folding them up and returning them. “We’re glad to have you,” he said, although he didn’t sound very sincere. “Drak’Tharon Keep has fallen to the Lich King, and his forces are well entrenched in its walls. They launch raids on our position regularly.”

Epyon sucked in a hissing breath through his teeth, frowning. “We could do without that fortress being in enemy hands,” he said. “Perhaps it would be best if we cleared it out?”

“We’ve tried,” the paladin said dryly. “Not just the Crusade, either. The Ebon Blade sent a handful of their own in there and none of them came back out. Arthas is using it as a new Acherus of sorts, raising troll death knights and sending them after us.”

“Wonderful,” Epyon muttered, gazing at the shadowy figure of the keep on the horizon. “Just what we need.”

The paladin cracked a wary smile. Necrothirst resolved to have Epyon interact with the crusaders for him. He did not deal well with their holy attitude and disdain for the Ebon Blade. “Where are we most needed?” he asked.

The paladin shrugged. “We have enough manpower to hold our position for some time, unless Arthas decides to raise more bezerkers. The Ebon Watch to our east is short-handed since those knights disappeared in the keep, perhaps they will have orders for you. We report in at the Argent Stand. Commander Falstaav is in charge of the forces in Zul’Drak.”

Necrothirst turned that over in his head for a moment. Thassarian had sent him here specifically to assist with communication between the horde faction of the crusade, the Sunreavers, and the alliance faction, the Silver Covenant - but he had also been ordered to assist in the war effort wherever possible. If they were short-handed at the Ebon Watch, it was his duty to send reinforcements.

“Laiza, go check in with the Ebon Watch and report back to me at the Argent Stand.” Laiza nodded and nudged her mount into a gallop, leaving the small camp. Necrothirst turned his attention back to the paladin. “I will take the rest of my forces and report to the commander. It is possible one of us will end up stationed here with you, to protect against the Drak’Tharon threat.”

The paladin nodded, although he didn’t look particularly happy about it. “Go with the Light - er,” the paladin cut himself off, uncomfortable. Necrothirst heard a soft snicker from behind him but didn’t turn to find out which of his knights was taking amusment in the paladin’s floundering. “Er, uh... be safe?”

Kyladriss growled softly at him and Necrothirst elbowed her. She was standing so close that if she had body heat, he would have felt it through his armor. She glared evilly at the paladin and everyone else in camp.

I should get her out of here before she decides that crusaders annoy her, Necrothirst thought, and mounted his Deathcharger again. He signaled the knights to move out, and they rode on.

“Drak’Tharon in Arthas’s hands,” Epyon said, riding beside Necrothirst. He shook his head. “I had hoped for better news when we finally got here.”

“It is not as bad as it could be,” Necrothirst said. “He appears to be using it not as a staging area for an invasion, but as a base to produce more troops. Both are bad, but if he were building an invasion force, Light’s Breach wouldn’t still be there.”

“Necrothirst,” Tamasi said, and he glanced over his shoulder at her. She gestured at Kyladriss when the worgen’s back was turned. “There bound to be quite a lot of people at the Argent Stand. How do you suppose...?”

“If things get out of hand, we can take her,” Necrothirst said. “I believe she respects me.”

Kyladriss looked up at him, then back at Tamasi, narrowing her eyes at the draenei. Necrothirst kicked her pauldron from the saddle, drawing her attention back to him. “You, behave yourself,” he said. “I will not hesitate to lock you up again if you prove to be a nuisance.” The worgen held his gaze for longer than she had since the boat ride to Northrend, but in the end she looked away.

“It is fascinating how similar her behavior is to a wolf, even now,” Saelessa said. “The worgen we locked away long ago had not even a semblance of sanity. You can see that she at least thinks, and possibly reasons.”

Kyladriss growled viciously at the night elf, baring her teeth again. She barked something unintelligible and then went back to sniffing the ground around the hooves of Necrothirst’s mount. “I believe that is her way of saying that she does not appreciate being spoken about like she is a mindless beast,” he said.

Saelessa shook her head. “Of all the people who would develop a soft spot for that creature-”

“I value her as an asset of war,” Necrothirst snapped, his eyes narrowing at the implication that he had a soft spot for anything. Kyladriss let out her barking laugh and skipped away from the kick he aimed at her. “And if she is not careful, her hide will end up on the wall in Acherus.”

The worgen’s laugh subsided into a growling chuckle, and Kyladriss stayed out of range of his boots for the remainder of the ride.

The Argent Stand was a converted troll temple. It was open on the sides - not the most defensible building Necrothirst had ever seen - but it was crawling with crusaders. Arthas would have to be supremely stupid to send a force here.

As they got closer, Necrothirst could see that the crusaders here were being harried by the Scourge. Batlike gargoyles circled overhead, occasionally swooping in low to try and grab an unwary crusader off the ground. Most of the crusaders appeared to be alert, able to fight off the gargoyle before they were grabbed, but Necrothirst could see the sad, broken figures of some who had permanently lost their battle with the Lich King.

When they got close enough, they were greeted with a shout from the dwarven scout standing watch, who immediately rode out to meet them. “State your business!”

“We are of the Ebon Blade,” Necrothirst said, once again producing his orders. The scout looked them over as quickly as the paladin had. Thassarian gave concise orders. “We have come to reinforce your efforts - and I am here as a translator.”

“Aye, so it says,” the dwarf said, sticking Necrothirst’s orders into her belt. “Ye speak Zandali?”

“Fluently.” The other knights rode up to flank him, and Necrothirst saw Tamasi raise a curious eyebrow at him. It was rare to find a night elf who spoke the language of their anceint enemy.

“Good,” the dwarf said. “Th’ troll priests from th’ Sunreavers speak Common passable well, but th’ Zul’Drak natives...” she shook her head. “Can’t understand three words out of ‘em. When they do speak Common, their accent’s so thick ye could slice it with a knife. Follow me.”

Necrothirst followed, shaking his head. He didn’t find the Zandali accent hard to understand at all - it wasn’t that difficult.

The Argent Stand was far busier than the much smaller outpost of Light’s Breach. In the center of the temple, a large space had been cleared. A table stood there covered in maps, some of Northrend as a whole and some of Zul’Drak specifically. A large draenei with glowing purple shoulder armor was hunched over the table. The plates on his forehead and his short horns gave the impression that he had a permanent scowl fixed on his face.

“Commander Falstaav,” the dwarf said, and the draenei looked up. For a moment, Necrothirst could see something that looked very like despair in the back of the man’s eyes. This was someone who had been on the front lines too long, with nobody available to take his place. He needed a rest and he wasn’t going to get one.

“I am Necrothirst of the Ebon Blade,” he said, stepping up to the table. “These are my knights - Tamasi, Saelessa, Epyon and Kyladriss. The sixth member of our company, Lazia, is reporting to Ebon Watch.”

“I would say welcome, but the sentiment would not be genuine,” the draenei said. “It lifts my spirit to see reinforcements.” The scout handed him Necrothirst’s orders, and Falstaav looked over them with more scrutiny than any of the rest had paid them. “You speak Zandali.”

“I do.”

“Excellent. There is a troll shaman here who has been trying to communicate something of urgency, but I’m afraid the Sunreaver portion of my forces have been out on patrol for three days, and no-one has been available to listen. He is getting quite agitated. Perhaps you could see what he wants?”

Necrothirst nodded. “I require a priest to see to Saelessa. She was injured in a... worgen incident.” Falstaav’s gaze sharpened on Kyladriss, who bared her teeth at him. Necrothirst grabbed her by the nape of the neck and shook her. “Not this one, although it would be wise to put word out to your men that she is not to be approached under any circumstances.”

Falstaav shook his head. “I will tell them. The medical tents are set up on the north side of the fortress. They will see to your knight.”

Necrothirst nodded to Saelessa, and she separated from the group. “The rest of my knights?”

Falstaav pointed out at the walled-in, stone-paved area where the congregation would have gathered when this structure was still a temple. “The gargoyles are killing my men two and three at a time. I would appreciate if you would slaughter them with extreme prejudice.”

“Leave it to us,” Tamasi said with a broad grin. Epyon followed her out into the courtyard without waiting to be told, but Necrothirst had to give Kyladriss some encouragement with his boot. It didn’t take much. Once she noticed that Tamasi and Epyon were killing things, she pulled her runeblade off her back and charged into the action with a howl.

“Now for the troll,” Falstaav said. “Hexxer Ubungo, he is called. Over there.”

Necrothirst followed Falstaav’s pointing finger to the troll crouched over a fire, tension in the lines of his shoulders. Necrothirst walked down the temple’s steps to him, his stride loose and easy, trying to appear non-threatening. When he spoke, he spoke Zandali.

“Spirits be with you.”

The troll looked up from his fire, his eyes narrow. “What you think you doin’, your accent is terrible, mon.”

“It’s been a long time since I’ve spoken Zandali,” Necrothirst said shortly. “The commander tells me you have a problem.”

“How you be speakin’ my tongue, mon? Last I remember, de kaldorei took a lot of pride in slaughterin’ us on sight.”

“I lived among the Shadowtooth trolls in the days following Kalimdor’s shattering. They named me Kazral.”

“Fitting name for a death knight,” Ubungo said, grinning around his mouthful of tusks. Kazral translated almost directly to Necrothirst. “So! I find de only night elf in de whole of Azeroth who knows his roots.” The troll laughed heartily, slapping his knee at his own joke.

Necrothirst pressed his lips together, scowling. The Shadowtooth trolls had also found endless amusement in the fact that he’d sought refuge with their kind instead of his own, following the days of the War of the Ancients. “Falstaav tells me you have been trying to tell him something for days. If the trouble is truly important, speak.”

“Ubungo not be de only one in trouble, all us be in trouble. De Lich King be raising death knight trolls, but he also have another plan. De spirits here be very powerful, very old. If de Lich King could bring dem under his control, have all dat power at his fingertips...” Ubungo shrugged. “Well, I’d be callin’ dat a bad thing, mon.”

“Arthas is trying to bend the loa to his will?”

“Na, mon. De loa too powerful for him to control while dey still be living. De Lich King, he be killin’ de spirits, and raisin’ dem from de dead.”

Necrothirst felt a prickle travel up his spine. He was a death knight, and he did not scare easily, but the thought of creatures as powerful as troll loa turned into undead shells, controlled by Arthas’s will... “This is more than a problem,” he said. “This could turn the tide of the war.”

“It not like Ubungo not been tryin’ to tell dat useless goat for de past tree days,” the shaman said sourly. “Ubungo speaks good Common, it not my fault nobody understand me.”

“What can we do to stop them?”

Ubungo’s shoulders went tense again, his brow furrowed, and he frowned. “Dere be only one way to make sure de loa never fall into de Lich King’s hands,” he said. “His followers, dey need to kill de loa in a very specific ritual to raise dem right. Loa be dyin’ and rebirthin’ all de time. Dey have to chain de spirit de moment de body dies.” He looked up, meeting Necrothirt’s eyes. “Kazral, mon, de only way to stop him is to kill de loa before he can.”

Necrothirst smiled slowly, a dark expression without humor. Zin’Shalla hummed at his back. “Then I will gather my knights, and we will go kill some spirits.”

The troll pinned him with another sharp gaze, looking him over. “You stand like a troll, mon,” he said. “De Shadowtooth, dey trained you to fight.”

“I learned much from them,” Necrothirst said.

“Good,” Ubungo said. “You be needin’ it.”