Glory to a shattered Kingdom [New 20/9]

It's finally here....

Part 12i: The Beginning Of The End

A lone rider, swathed in a deep green cloak that flew out behind him as he kicked his horse to go faster and faster, heading South and thundering through Eversong. His speed was unmatched, but that would proved to be his downfall, as between the trees ahead, two more figures, these in jet black longcoats, were tightening a thin length of copper wire between the trees on either side of the road. The rider thundered down the small slope and galloped across the short bridge, entering the Ghostlands unchallenged. A smart man would have found this suspicious, but the Kal'dorei astride the stolen horse was little more than a fool, only used by the Darnassus as a scout when all other Scouts were engaged elsewhere. But right then, he could have been the salvation of Azeroth. Had he not seen the wire a moment too late. A glint of metal in the darkened woods, the horse slowing to a halt without the insistant digging of a riders shoes into it's thighs. The head rolled far, coming to rest in the long grasses of the Elven woods. Arli Sunblade stooped and grabbed the long purple hair, raising it into his own horse's saddlebag, and urged his dark steed, Midnight, back towards Silvermoon.

Dawn arrived in the royal bedchamber to find the Lord of the Sin'dorei staring out at the city, fully clothed from the night before. His ancient brow was furrowed deeply, his arms crossed, a grim expression of worry crossing his face. Silvermoon had changed drastically under his twenty year rule, not only in clothing style, which seemed to follow whatever the Assassin's decided looked good. The capital of the Elves, and of the Empire, had grown to encompass the entire Northern half of Eversong, horseless carriages thundered across the city, the spires rising to touch the lowest clouds. It was rare, at ground level, to see sunlight, the wide veranda's and boulevards that held the upper classes obscuring natural light for the slums below. A huge highway had been built across the stretch of ocean to Quel'danas, where the Ministry of Tranquility debated in the Halls of Theory on the latest propaganda campaign. Great magically strengthened glass plates hung from towers and walls, all depicting moving images of Magyk grinning and winking at the populace, reminding everyone who passed of their duty and commitment to the crown. Deep down, far away from the natural sunlight above, lurked gangs of rogue sorceror's and deformed Elves scraping a living from what was dropped from above, where the nobility of Quel'thalas sat in decadent glory, content to feast on sumptuous food and drink brought from the far reaches of the empire at the expense of the lowly Human's and Dwarves, who now worked night and day to provide for their conqueror's. The foundries of Ironforge were kept burning constantly to churn out weapons and armour for the inevitable invasion of Kalimdor. The Dwarves worked in appalling conditions, crafting hideous war machines, portal engines, realm cannons, existence generators and mana turbines. Everything, once complete, was sent North to be infused with magic by the Imperial Council of Wands, a branch of the Magister's that dealt solely with destructive magic, in the defence of the kingdom, and the destruction of others. And whilst Magyk steered the empire, His wife and queen, Zazulia, tried to keep their son and daughter in order. Their son and heir, first of the twins, was named Dorrien, after his paternal grandfather, the tall gaunt figure had shown exceptional talent at swordplay, and upon word from Magyk, had been accepted into the Liadrin Academy of Light, the newest school to grace the city streets, for those who wished to follow the path of the Blood Knight. The Princess, Vanisia, was also gifted, this time in the art of the arcane. Under order of her father, she had studied under the greatest tutors Silvermoon's academies had to offer.

A dark speck thundered through the gates of the city far below, bringing Magyk to his senses, and in less than ten seconds he was closing the door to his room and dashing up the marble corridor, his lynx fur slippers making hardly any noise. He was running so fast that as he turned right to step upon the burnished golden plate set into the floor he kept going, sliding on the polished stone and waving his arms madly in an effort to steady himself, until finally coming to a halt at the side of a marble column. Annoyed at himself, but grateful that no one had seen his blunder, he walked steadily back to the plate and barked orders at it. The plate glowed for a moment, and deposited Magyk near the Throne Room, where he just managed to seat himself comfortably when Arli strolled in holding an ebonweave bag. He bowed before Magyk and made to haul the head from the depths of the sack, but with a warning look from the Sun King, he withdrew his hand sharply.

“It's done then. Well done Mr. Sunblade.” Magyk nodded and smiled wearily at his right hand, and could not help but yawn. “If I may ask, Sir, why exactly was it crucial to kill this Scout? The Farstrider's have been watching several others for weeks now, and begging your pardon, you have not ordered them killed.” Magyk breathed in deeply before answering, letting the musty smell of incense fill his nostrils. “It was crucial, my dear Sunblade, because he alone saw what has been planned for our cousins in Darnassus. And I must say, I think the Council of Wands have outdone themselves. It's positively abhorrent...” Magyk grinned visciously. “I take it, then, you plan to invade Kalimdor. We certainly have enough armaments...” Arli looked past the throne and out across Silvermoon, where far away upon the mighty marble walls could be seen the monstrous fusion of engineering and magic of a realm cannon, which fired mighty bolts of arcane that on contact with the physical consumed whatever it had hit, transporting them into the Nether itself. As he began to turn back to Magyk, his jaw dropped, as the glittering spire that housed the Imperial Scryers began to sink below the level of the upper plaza's, vanishing slowly into the understreets in a thick cloud of dust. The sound of the collapse hit the palace a moment later, and Magyk stood quickly and rushed out onto the balcony overlooking the Court of the Sun, as several more towers crumbled and disappeared. Silvermoon, the jewel of the North, and the capital of the Empire, was under attack.

I give to you, the penultimate peril. Hope you enjoy.

Part 12ii: Silvermoon's fall

Magyk watched in horror, as over the next few minutes huge swathes of his beautiful city crumbled. Towering marble statues of himself were torn apart, mighty spires capped with golden domes disintegrated from below, the great glass plates displaying his image faltered, Magyk's face upon them looked first annoyed, and then showing a flicker of fear as they crashed to the ground and shattered, spraying glass shrapnel across the upper levels of the city. And from the great holes in the cool plaza's of upper Silvermoon, clambering over the great chunks of rubble that now provided a direct path to the under-streets, arose the heaving mass of the lower class. In their hundreds, streaming through every available opening, the congregation thrived, throwing weak spells at the guardians of the aristocracy who for so long had forced these impoverished Elves in working for almost nothing. The King watched as richly dressed merchants and scholars fell to the teeming horde, so surprised that they showed no resistance. And then Magyk smirked as he glanced at the sky. For over the high walls came dozens of his Magister's, upon golden discs held aloft by sheer willpower. He grinned widely as his elite spell weavers carved through the crowds below with ease, often killing dozens at a time with one sweeping plume of fire. Arli watched silently at the carnage with his eyebrows raised, his jaw hanging, only coming to his senses as he spotted something that made his face turn white. He tapped the now giggling Magyk on the shoulder as they were joined by Queen Zazulia, who had finally awoken amidst the screams of her subjects and made her way downstairs. Arli was shaking Magyk heavily before the king tore his eyes away from the war below. “What Sunblade. Yes, you can stop manhandling me now. What...WHAT FOR SUNWELL'S SAKE!” But Arli merely pointed out across the city. Magyk looked along Arli's arm and through the towers of the capital, and eyes widened slowly. Upon the great walls, the thralls from below had scaled one of the towers, and were just finishing turning a great mana turbine to point directly at the palace. A flash of ghostly purple light, a lance of violet fire sped across the city, and drove it's way into the throne room and beyond, crafting a great hole through the palace.

Magyk stood up shakily, his hair dishevelled and his robes covering in dusted marble. He hurried over to his wife and helped her to her feet as Arli too hauled himself up, leaning on the golden railings for support. Magyk made his way back to the balcony, stumbling slightly over the debris strewn floor, and looked down at the Court of the Sun, where the battle had not ceased. Several Magister's had fallen from their discs and were now battling on the ground. Arli was keeping his eye on the other war machine's lining the walls. Zazulia glanced down at the slaughter below and closed her eyes, as though wishing she would wake up. But all three were distracted by the enormous cracking sound above them, and as one they span and watch a trickle of dust fall from the ceiling, which was rapidly becoming a torrent. Magyk's mind was abuzz, trying to think of any spell that would hold the majestic building in place, but finding none, resorted to grabbing both Zazulia and Arli's hands and leaping backwards off the ledge before either could object.

The wind sped past, Zazulia began screaming, and after a moment, so did Arli. Magyk, however, closed his eyes and concentrated, the rushing sound of the wind past his ears slowing and finally stopping. He opened his eyes, vaguely surprised and proud of himself for achieving flight with not one but two passengers. The feeling was short-lived, however, as they were now near the bottom of a pit with several thousand tons of marble and gold bearing down on their only escape route. Holding tightly to Zazulia and Arli, the odd trio began to rise, slowly at first, but gathering speed quickly, and flew over the lip of the chasm as the great palace of the Sin'dorei crumbled behind them. Magyk smiled for the first time that day, until he was yanked sideways to his right, Arli still screaming as he clung onto the only thing that kept him in the air, Magyk's hand. A lone slab of marble had broken away from the falling tower, and fell down, striking Queen Zazulia and dragging her already crushed body from Magyk's grasp. Magyk let himself drop, Arli still howling in fear, determined to save his wife, part of him already knowing that it was too late. He landed hard in the centre of Sovereign Way, shook Arli from him and sprinted to where the rubble had pinned his wife's body. Magyk fell to his knees, broken glass and sharp shards of stone digging into his legs, but Magyk did not care as he cradled Zazulia in his arms, tears falling down his face as he cried loudly. Arli watched Magyk's outpouring of grief, but turned sharply as he heard movement behind him. Halduron Brightwing, along with what looked like most of the Farstriders were tearing up the street, knives drawn. As the Ranger-General drew close, Arli raised his hand in front of Brightwing, simply shaking his head and turning again to look at the king. “What do we do, Halduron? The city is lost to the mindless rabble. The palace is gone, and now this...” Arli spoke in a low murmur, not wanting to disturb Magyk's continued wailing. Halduron whispered back, calmly. “Silvermoon is lost, yes, but we still have strongholds. We will retreat to Quel'danas. There, we will outlast them.” Ever practical, Halduron pushed past Arli and clasped Magyk's shoulder, forcibly detaching him from his late wife and spurring him North along the highway, Arli and the rest of the Farstriders following with haste. Magyk allowed himself to be pushed in a carriage and sped further North, across the stretch of water towards the small island that held the glorious font of magic, the Sunwell.

I had to split the last part into two pieces, so this is, in fact, the penultimate post. It'll be over soon, I promise

Part 12iii: Selama ashal'anore

Magyk was dimly aware that he was being shepherded towards perhaps the best place to retaliate against the insurgents, and only half listened to what Brightwing was saying to him about 'other forces at work here'. The carriage rattled up the gentle incline and came to a halt in the curtyard where, so many years before, the great Annihilan, Brutallus, was defeated by the Shattered Sun Offensive. Arli opened the door and stepped out, as the first notes of the Thalassian Anthem, Rise, Upon Wings Of Gold, were sounded from the trumpeters stationed around the plaza. Arli drew his thumb across his neck swiftly in the universal sign of 'cut it out now' and the music died rapidly. Magyk emerged from the carriage, his expression stoic as he made his way across the plaza and into the museum-like corridors of the Sunwell plateau.

He subconsciously made his way to the very tip of the central spire and out onto the balcony to look down on the few forces he had left at his disposal. He could see Brightwing ordering his Farstrider's to take up position high above the courtyard, along the walls that flanked the great marble expanse that lead South across the sea. Arli was directing what Magister's had been stationed on the island, and he saw several members of the Council of Wands looking rather agitated about being spoken down to be someone with no magical talent. Nevertheless, they stood in line with the others and waited for the inevitable onslaught. Arli walked purposefully inside the lower plateau below. Magyk had already contemplated jumping, ending it all before it began. He has let Silvermoon fall again, had lost his second wife. He had no idea where his children were, or even if they were still alive. In the course of a few hours, his world had been brought to it's knees. But he could not bring himself to do it. He would die defending the Sunwell, as he felt he should have done years ago, with Monica. Before long, he heard the rustle of expensive cloth and the faintest clink of silver on silver, as the finery of Arli's long-coat brushed against his daggers behind him. The assassin said nothing for a while, but just as he opened his mouth, the King spoke.

“Where is General Fireleaf? Surely someone has sent word to Stormwind?” Magyk did not look at Arli, but kept his eyes on the road South. “We sent an emissary through to Stormwind Keep an hour ago, we have yet to hear back from her...you don't think she's....” Arli shut his mouth, not wanting to grieve his king further. But Magyk was no longer listening. The army of disgruntled Sin'dorei were coming into sight, moving fast along the highway, but still at least ten minutes away. Magyk beckoned behind him, and an ornate spyglass lifted itself from it's place on the wall and soared in Magyk's outstretched hand. Magyk jammed the eyepiece to his right eye and stared down at his opponent. “There leader has yet to reveal himself Sunblade, but when he does, we must be ready to strike at the head of the sn....” Magyk stopped, hardly daring to believe his eyes at who was walking with the Elves.

“Traitor!” Magyk spat and leapt backwards, hurtling along corridors and down stairs until he reached the ground, shooting out into the sunlight and skidding to a halt some feet behind the neat rows of Magister's, who looked decidedly uncomfortable, as Warmage General Ilsinea Fireleaf marched into the courtyard, followed by a curious mix of Sin'dorei and Humans. “Traitor!” Magyk yelled again, pointing an accusing finger at Ilsinea. “Betrayer, of your own people! Murderer!” Ilsinea looked across the plaza to Magyk. “Magyk, you're hysterical. You have brought this retribution on yourself. Time and again I have sent missives asking you to be more compassionate to those you have defeated, and time and again I have been ignored. You speak of betrayal, when the vast majority of our people starve while you host elaborate parties for you and your friends, living in luxury whilst these Elves, Humans, Dwarves and Gnomes provide for you, earning nothing in return for their silent obedience. Has this really come as a surprise, that these people want a better life than the one their glorious Emperor has given them?” Magyk flushed, his lips pursed, as he glared back at his former ally. “I have given the worthy the life life they deserve. You included, I might add, Fireleaf. If it weren't for my recognising your worth you would still be stuck in one of the academies teaching, instead, I elevated you to your lofty status. You owe me your allegiance!” Ilsinea was silent for a moment, before whispering her final reply. “I owe you...nothing!” She raised her arms before most of the Magister's had time to react, and it was to their cost, for across the courtyard, huge flames erupting from Ilsinea's hands, burning the flesh of anyone not sufficiently protected. Magyk, along with several of the older and wiser Magister's, threw up shields of their chosen fields, great walls of ice, barriers of arcane energy and barricades of darkest shadow filled the courtyard. Now, obscured from the sight of the Magister's, Ilsinea signalled behind her, and the combined force of Humans and renegade Sin'dorei advanced, hurling bolts of magic upwards at the Farstrider's who were trying desperately to diminish their enemies ranks, without much hope of succeeding. Ilsinea drew her sword of purest silver, wrapped in purging fire, and swiped at the bulwark of shadow Magyk had vanished behind. But as the shadow faded, blowing away on the breeze, Magyk was nowhere to be seen. Ilsinea pressed on, and into the darkened halls of the Sunwell Plateau alone, leaving her army of serf fighting the seasoned forces of the Sun King.

Finally finished this dreadful saga. Enjoy my longest (and hopefully epic) post, and resgister comments below. Now, sleepy time for me.

Part 13: The Endgame

Almost immediately, Ilsinea regretted entering the lions den alone. As soon as she stepped across the threshold, a shimmering barrier of golden light sprang into existance behind her, sealing her inside the Plateau.as she walked across the echoing chamber, she turned swiftly, flaming sword raised as on of the many lamps adorning the walls flickered out. A rustle of cloth, she span again as another lamp went dark. The soft patter of footsteps faded with the third lamp. On and on it went, faster and faster, until one lamp was left, casting a tiny pool of light in the vast darkness. Ilsinea ran her hand across her blade, the flames adorning it dying as well, and she quietly stole over to a pillar. With a loud cackle in a voice quite unlike Magyk's grandiose tones, darkness consumed the last lamp, just as Ilsinea twirled around and stabbed at the air behind her. “You'll have to do better than that, Fireleaf...” The unseen man laughed again, high and cold. Ilsinea swung around yet again, swiping at where a moment before the unseen man had been standing. Heart pounding against her chest, Ilsinea found her way to the curved wall and sent out a weak wave of flame, enough the light the room and mildly burn anyone present. An instant later she jumped in shock and fear, as the distorted face of Arli Sunblade leapt through the flames and ran at her. Her sword ignited once more as she swung it up to meet the assassin, but the blade did not connect, for the image of Arli exploded into a shower of golden sparks that circled the room and reformed into the shimmering form of Magyk's right hand. Before the room faded to black again, Ilsinea glimpsed Arli dash off into the dark recesses of the hall beyond, leaving her in the chamber alone.

Magyk looked down at the Sunwell, it's magical glow felt warm and yet cool as a light breeze to him. He had to do it, to save his kingdom from falling to the hands of the usurper Fireleaf and her wretched band of Humans and Sin'dorei blood traitors. He had already alerted the Undercity as to what was happening, and had no doubt that even now his Forsaken allies were pouring into the ruins of Silvermoon through portals held open by the Sylvan mages. Nevertheless, he had to hold the rampaging degenerates off until his allies arrived, and to do that, he had to do this.

Ilsinea cautiously entered the long curved hallway that held numerous relics of the past, ancient armours and weapons, and many curious artefacts even she did not know the meaning of. Her gaze wandered towards a glass case holding several items of jewellery, cursed according to the small plaque beside them. She shook her head slightly, and resolved not to become distracted again, especially in the current situation. She rounded a larger than life statue of the king, resplendent in robes of marble inlaid with gold, her footsteps making no sound on the smooth floor, and crouched down behind Magyk's stone foot watching for movement ahead. A vague shimmer of light crept around the corner ahead, and after a last cursory sweep of the room, the Warmage leapt from her hiding place and ran to the last pillar, peering around and into the next chamber.

Magyk swept around the chamber at the heart of the Plateau, fiddling with dials and adjusting levers on the machine that so long ago had helped craft what Magyk had hoped were the ultimate warriors. Unfortunately, their aggressive natures, decreased mental ability and huge amount of power made them unstable, and it was with heavy heart that Magyk had ordered the whole program halted and the experiments destroyed, along with Doctor Cavendish, who would have undoubtedly caused trouble about the whole thing.

Ilsinea entered yet another chamber, lit only by the huge blue flamed brazier in the centre of the room. Adorning the walls were numerous portraits featuring a variety of Elves, all staring down at Ilsinea. She shivered slightly, casting her eyes about for any sign of the coward Arli. Her gaze was caught by several portraits as she recognised the slight smirk, the way they stood, and the ornate signet ring that most of the painting's subjects wore, displaying a serpentine 'S'. The Sunwing's looked unknowingly down on the one who threatened the last of their line. Ilsinea's eyes dropped to the brazier, and through the flames, she spotted both Arli and Magyk, and with a jolt of guilt, the former Grand Magister Jaelen Sunwhisper, seemingly returned from the dead. All three were standing perfectly still, and staring straight at her, looking quite bemused. She hurled a spinning lance of both fire and ice, the two weaving around each other and finally splitting into three, each striking the triumvirate that had brought Quel'thalas forward under their tyranny. The figures did not move to counter Ilsinea's magic, and the grinning faces of all three vanished beneath the freezing flames. It was then that Ilsinea realised she had just destroyed the most recent addition to the gallery, for how could Jaelen be alive when she had murdered him in cold blood years ago the night that the Sin'dorei had taken Stormwind, to ensure that she was put in place as Governor and thus allowing the Human's a little leniency in a world where anyone not of Sin'dorei blood was persecuted to the extreme. Ilsinea's shoulders sagged as she sighed at her bad luck, but instantly became alert again as she heard footsteps through the haunting blue light. The real Arli Sunblade strode into view, his face contorted into a viscous grin. “Smoothly done, Fireleaf, but it may help if you actually aim in the right direction. And now, I will take great pleasure in ending your little uprising, by removing the head of the snake.” Arli rose above the brazier and smirked. “How on Azeroth can you do magic?” Ilsinea fired at Arli, suddenly struck by the thought that one of the most thoroughly non-magical Elves in Quel'thalas was now hurling spells around and flying. Arli cackled in the high, cold way that Ilsinea had heard in the darkness. “The king has granted me the power to do all I can in service of the kingdom, and once I deal with you, he will honour me with more power than you could ever muster. Ironic, seeing as how it's was your expertise in helping to craft the magnificent machine that makes this possible...” Arli flew around the chamber, his jet black long coat flaring out, causing him to look like an overgrown bat. And then, when he was above Ilsinea, he lunged down, drawing the silver daggers from his belt.

Magyk had finished preparing himself fro what he was about to do, and stood directly below the glowing white crystal. He looked up at the mural on the nearest wall, himself smiling wide and winking. The real Magyk smiled wanly and gestured, conjuring a small ball of gold, with he had soar across the room and hit a large violet button on the control panel. The low moan of mana turbines charging filled the room, and Magyk looked up and inhaled deeply, arms spread wide, ready to receive the ultimate gift.

Ilsinea swung her flaming sword yet again, but this time the pommel connected with Arli's ribcage and threw him off course, crashing into the edge of the flame-filled brazier and laying still a moment, before standing and flurrying quickly at Ilsinea. She stood her ground, delivering strike after strike to the assassin, who used his knives to parry her blows. Ilsinea threw a ball of fire at Arli, who, whilst still not used to his new-found power and unable to react instinctively with magic to disperse the fire, leapt aside, landing heavily on his front, his head bouncing off the marble floor, dazing him. Ilsinea, instead of ending his life with another simple fireball, swept across the room and plucked a fallen silver dagger from beside Arli, and stabbed him in the back. Arli lay still as the mage made her way deeper into the Plateau. But Ilsinea had not seen the ethereal blue sparks that began to knit the wound together as she left the room, and soon, with less than a whisper, Arli Sunblade stood again, and dissolved into smoke, appearing a moment later at the Sunwell.

Arli looked across the Sunwell at Magyk. The king cast an ethereal glow across the room, his entire body reborn into the like of which Elvenkind had never witnessed. His robes had been drained of colour, so the now white cloth, held together with stitches of purest gold, shone across the darkened hall like a beacon. His face had been transformed, perfectly symmetrical and sculpted as if by the Titan's themselves. His skin shone moon-bright, his hair a long sheet silvery blonde, that fanned out behind him slightly, even without wind, and his eyes, fel green no longer, nor white, but the pale blue of a perfect sky. Arli fell to his knees in awe, as Magyk floated gently to the ground, looking at his resplendent hands. It was a few moments before he found the will to move in a graceful arc around the Sunwell and lift Arli's head. He smiled down at his assassin, showing a glittering row of dazzling even teeth, and when he spoke, Arli heard the words, and almost felt them in his soul. “I have done a great thing, Sunblade. I have become...magic incarnate...my people truly survive because of me now...for I am their Sunwell...see what I have become, see the awesome power I command...” Magyk waved his hand through the air, and as he did so great vines snaked from the thin cracks of the floor, quickly growing into wondrous plants that burst into bloom in an instant, before wilting, their petals falling to the ground and shattering like glass, which swirled across the floor and became a shallow river a water. Another wave of Magyk's hand, and the solid marble wall behind Arli faded into nothing, leaving the way to Parhelion Plaza clear. Magyk drifted across the chamber and settled himself on the wide veranda overlooking the gardens below, testing his power by lifting one of the Sin'dorei destroyers moored off the coast entirely out of the water, and hurling it far across the sea with ease. Magyk laughed, and was looking around for something else when his head exploded in pain. He clasped his temples with his hands and screamed in agony, falling to his knees as the power of the Sunwell continued to imbue every part of his being. Through tears of molten glass that burned his eyes, Magyk stared in horror as the skin on his hands and arms cracked, and began to emit small electric blue sparks. His spine contorted unnaturally, jerking the king of the blood elves about Apex Point, screaming. Below his shoulder blades, great wings sprouted, made of stiff, rusted gold. His entire body was begging for death as it shook violently, stray bursts of magic being hurled in random directions, until at last, some sense of equilibrium was found.

Ilsinea watched in growing horror as Magyk demonstrated his awesome power, and in fury that Arli had survived, sensibly decided to retreat from the Sunwell. Finding a window overlooking the courtyard, she put her elbow through it and leapt from the windowsill, slowing her fall to land gently on the ground in front of her troops. “Mr. Quartermain.” An elderly looking human clad in a ragged robe hurriedly stepped forward as Ilsinea described what had happened. “...Now, have your people open portals to....everywhere... get as many allies as we can muster. We must stop him before the power of the Sunwell consumes him completely. That amount of power, released in one single instant upon the world....I don't dare think....” The human, now looking suitably terrified, retreated and rounded up several of the more powerful mages, who all began the long chants to create holes in the Nether. Incorporeal images of Darnassus, Orgrimmar, and Dalaran appeared in the air, through which the mages vanished.

Several minutes later, after several colossal bangs and screams coming from Parhelion Plaza, delegations from Darnassus and Dalaran had arrived, lead by Tyrande Whisperwind and Archmage Rhonin with contingents of their own forces, to finally end the reign of terror none of them could face alone. The Kal'dorei Sentinals looked around at the lavish decorations with disdain, whilst Rhonin greeted Ilsinea warmly, having spent many months formulating plans about Quel'thalas. Disgruntled shouts from behind this trio of leadership signalled the arrival of Garrosh Hellscream and his Orcs, pushing through the crowd and eager as ever to begin the fighting, regardless of who it was against. A clear look of loathing filled his eyes as he took in the Sin'dorei, Kal'dorei and Humans as he grunted a forced greeting, looking around at the corpse-strewn courtyard. “Well, Elf, what have you brought us here for? There is no battle to be had here...” Tyrande ducked as Garrosh swung a huge arm around, gestured to the many dead Elves and Humans. His next words were drowned in a terrible screeching, as Magyk Sunwing flew over the high wall to the south-east, golden wings screaming in protest. He landed roughly, still not used to the overwhelming magic flooding his being, the marble beneath his feet cracking. Three eyebrows raised, whilst one face scowled as they watched Magyk continue to jerk involuntarily, his eyes no longer the pale sky blue, but brimming with cerulean fire.

“I'll save the monologue for your funerals...” Magyk's voice was deep, and even sounded metallic. He threw out his arms as the armies of Azeroth surged forward, horizontal pillars of fire lancing deep into the enemy force, vanquishing any who had the misfortune to be standing in the way. Ilsinea quickly countered, cascading conjured water down onto Magyk, whose hands began steaming as fire met water, but it was but a moment before water became a solid block of ice, surrounding Magyk, who shattered the icy tomb and sent the razor sharp shards hurtling across the courtyard at the advancing army. Rhonin stepped forward, and together with Ilsinea transfigured the shards into glass, sending them back at Magyk. The glass met a mighty shimmering shield of arcane power, each fragment dissolving into sand, which became wrapped in darkest shadow and began marching slowly towards the advancing army, slaying all who they came into contact with. The Night Elves commenced firing, as the Orcs ran at the shadowy figures, cleaving and hacking and piercing with axes and arrows. Magyk snarled as his warriors were defeated and the army advanced.

“You forget, Fireleaf...every Sin'dorei behind you, and yourself included, is bound to me. Over millennia, the Sunwell has penetrated the very soul of our people, and it's essence is forged in our blood. You are fighting with the very power you seek to destroy, and if you succeed in killing me, it will bring about the second dark age of our entire race...kill me, and you sacrifice not only your life, but the lives of all the Sin'dorei behind you, to live out a long and painful death...” Ilsinea halted as she thought about these words, and found herself shocked at the cold, harsh logic, that the lives of all Sin'dorei had to continue under the banner of Sunwing, whether they wished a change or not. She entertained the notion of containing the huge power that Magyk now possessed, but quickly realised that that would be like trying to harness the ocean.

A great rumbling filled the air, a colossal shadow fell across the courtyard. Magyk's eyes looked skyward, his mouth falling open as the immense fortress of Tempest Keep hovered ominously above the courtyard. He stared up in wonder, temporarily forgetting about his unwelcome guests, who took the opportunity of their foe's lack of attention to negate the spells holding them in place and creeping forward, with the exception of Garrosh, who in typical Orcish fashion hurling a torrent of insults at Magyk as he ran across the plateau, alerted Magyk to his attack and subsequently got blasted back into the crowd in a magnificent outpouring of arcane power. Magyk smirked and raised his arms, and great lances of red, blue, white, purple, black and green hurtled across the courtyard and began wrapping themselves in a great vortex of magic around the enemy leaders, a perfect union of all forms of magic, destroyed Magyk's enemies in one fel swoop. He grinned viscously as they were pelted with fire and ice, were blinded by both too much light, and pitch black shadows preventing them from seeing, electric blue sparks infusing the thick vines that had sprouted from the ground and held them all in place. Magyk began to laugh, as he watched his would-be killers dying a slow and painful death.

And all at once, silence settled across the battlefield, silence, except for a low magical tone, as great beings of pure Light descended from on high, forming a barrier between the two forces. Within his mind, Magyk sensed, rather than heard, a wave of disappointment spread across him as the Naaru approached slowly. Magyk snarled once more, unleashing great arc's of lightning at the Naaru, which reverberated back towards Magyk so fast he barely had time to dissipate the reflected magic. The Light does not abandon it's champions, and as such, these revolutionary's shall not taste death today. I extend my blessing to all here, even you, young Sunwing, and none shall not endure the corruption of your power. I shall return you to what once you were, and the power you have taken to it's rightful place in the world. Know that I remain with you. Magyk began to voice his protests, using several curses in Thalassian. “You cannot stop me. Nothing can. I am the most powerful sorcerer, in the world!” With a great screeching of rusting gold, Magyk shot up into the air, high above the Naaru, and the Plateau itself, as the sky overhead darkened, the clouds swirling into a tempestuous cone, circling down, rain lashing across the island, howling winds tearing at robes and hair. Magyk cackled above it all, as lightning flashed and thunder crashed down at the forces below. As the Naaru vanished in a flash of light, Magyk grinned madly, his cracked skin still seeping raw magic. His insane smirk faltered, however, when through the darkened sky, he saw the white glow of the Naaru, who had not been harmed in the slightest. Magyk began his descent, determined to sink the enitre island if he had to to destroy these insufferable creatures. Halfway down he was stopped suddenly, anchored in mid-air by the shining Light the Naaru were now emitting. Below, Ilsinea Fireleaf, along with her allies, shielded their eyes as the bright light enveloped Magyk for several minutes, and when it had dissipated, the king of Quel'thalas hovered serenely above them all, his skin smooth, and eyes the palest of blues once more. He surveyed his beloved people for a moment, before the twang of a bow sounded, a silver-tipped arrow shot through the air and pierced Magyk's heart. Everyone below looked to Tyrande, who held her bow by her side again, looking thoroughly pleased with herself. Magyk fell, spinning over and over, a white bullet that hit the cold wet marble with a sickening crunch. Ilsinea, Rhonin and several dozen Elves bowed their heads, for they alone remembered that before the Scourge came, Magyk had been as he was at the end, pure of heart.

Several days past, in which time the Elves of Silvermoon happily tore down the massive constructs of destruction Magyk had forged from the walls and sent the war machines South-west to Lordaeron, where Sylvanas grudgingly admitted defeat after a hard-fought battle. The Orcs and Kal'dorei retreated to Kalimdor, not allies or enemies, but for once tolerant of each other. The Humans, Dwarves and Gnomes were once again free to live as they once had done, and the Sin'dorei destroyed the corrupt aristocracy from which the last twenty years had caused. And yet, deep below Silvermoon, in the dark vaults filled with ancient knowledge, a secret meeting had been convened. Dark cloaked figures strode the hallways, speaking in hushed tones. Three such figures were looking up at the great beast in front of them, pinned painfully in place by metal spikes embedded into it's bronze scales. Vanisia and Dorrien Sunwing smiled, but the biggest grin of all belonged to Arli Sunblade.

Amazing story and writing skills, I wish I had it. This is a good spin-off of Azeroth lore and how it could look like with a tyran ruling the world.

I was also nice to see a lot of my ideas inserted.

I too have really enjoyed these stories and greatly admire Magyk's writing skills.

I like the way Arli was developed and I truly expected him to be killed off before the end, nice to see my alter-elf survived

Getting a 'new posting' notification first thing in the morning was always lovely to see, I knew I'd have something to read over breakfast before dashing to work. I do hope that this doesn't see the end of Magy's writing on this forum.

Some brilliant, skilled work there Magyk, I have read every word right from the start and loved it all. Don't stop with your spin-offs, they are one of the things that keeps people coming back here

Can't really say much about getting a bit part, but the story was solid, it's entertainment value undeniable. A recommended read, if not perfect in all counts, though I won't bother going into a full critique at all.

3.9 Stars.

Oh looky, Alathreal got mentioned a little. Thats cool.

It was an interesting read although not to the style I prefer its well crafted so points for that.

Did Alathreal die in the end? I'm not sure and the curiosity is getting to me.

After several insurgent strikes against the King's regime, and both Alathreal and Catari were found helping the vile degenerates below Silvermoon's streets, Magyk banished them to the very understreets they sought to aid. After several years, mostly organising the various gangs and triads that had flourished into efficient fighting forces, they were contacted by Ilsinea Fireleaf, and they, along with their followers, lead the charge that would spell Magyk's doom.