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lordrethandus · 6 years

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The Flame That Guides Us Home Pt 1

Stepping back onto Argus after only a week of rest felt like Gonthar was visiting this planet for the first time all over again; the smoldering ash clinging to his wet snout, the dead wind scratching at his hide, the stench of fel sludge and death, all of it felt so foreign. Azeroth drifted between Argus and An’she, casting a colossal black shadow that draped across the whole of the planet; it was as dark as Argus could be away from its mother sun, which only made the impending battle that much more foreboding.

“Are you ready to meet with Illidan’s pet projects and the Naaru’s slaves?” Istrys asked, standing next to her Gonthar. He was beginning to realize why Rethandus was always ignoring her constant quips. He adjusted his belt and gauntlets in front of the cracked and dirty mirror at the base of the Command Tower before nodding. Slowly they stepped back out into the harsh winds of Argus with only the torches lining the walls and the large Draenei warship looming overhead casting any semblance of light. A lightforged beacon sat just outside of Felfathom Keep, south of the entrance. Although Istrys seemed apprehensive of using such a device for obvious reasons, Gonthar was eager to experience the ancient and blessed technology for himself. The Holy Light washed over his body with an intense warmth, making him suddenly feel weightless while the beacon lifted him off the ground. A blinding flash and an instant later and he was inside the warship with a rush of vertigo.

The first thing he noticed were the sheer amount of humming canisters lining the walls. Draenei clad in hulking power armor heaved containers to and fro in the large ovular room, with heavy weapons primed and ready. Right away Gonthar realized the Gladicaar was not just a smaller Vindicaar; this was a strictly military vessel. Being in the midst of so many battle-hardened veterans and weapons put Gonthar’s worries of this campaign at ease.

Istrys appeared behind him a heartbeat later. Her anti-magic shell was flickering all over her smoking armor, and before she could even take the next step, she collapsed onto her hands and knees. “Are you alright?”

Agony flashed across her grimacing face, but she did her best not to show it. “Just fucki-... give me a second…” There was strain in her voice like she had just been punched in the gut. A part of Gonthar pitied her, but that apathy was gone as quickly as it came; she was a necromancer with blood on her hands, before, during, and after the Scourge. While she slowly pushed herself back onto her feet, he couldn’t help but think how an undead of her caliber even used the beacon in the first place. He certainly didn’t think he could survive stepping through a Death Gate.

Before they reached the door leading to the war room, two of the guards lowered their lightforged lances and barked something incomprehensible at them. Gonthar didn’t know how to respond, knowing full well he and Istrys were invited aboard this warship, but their piercing glares focused on the Necromancer put his questions to rest. “Zekil kanrethad! Apsid’eras arakal?!”

“Apsid’eras xi eiostra’eros faralos raka.” Istrys huffed without skipping a beat, causing the two guards to exchange glances before stepping aside to let them pass. “We should hurry,” she continued, clearing her throat. “I don’t want to overstay my welcome.”

“You can speak Eredun?” Gonthar asked as they both walked down the long spiraling hallway. “What did you say to them?”

“Not Eredun. Draenic.” Istrys was still limping from being wreathed in the Light. “I told them we were invited on behalf of their leader, and if we were delayed any further, he would hear about it.” Istrys gave Gonthar a quizzical look. “You better let me do the translating. You're already on thin ice bringing me here… and don't get me started about sending Zolaar ahead. You are aware these Draenei hate warlocks almost as much as the demons they collaborate with... right?”

Gonthar didn't look worried. “He needs to work with them to gain a clear and direct path to Miraan’s flagship. If they’re fine with the Illidari joining this meeting aboard their Gladicaar, one more crippled outcast won’t be cause for alarm.”

“I hope you’re right.”

The Gladicaar’s war room was smaller than Gonthar expected. Three large rings of light hovered inches off the floor in the center and suspended an oval table, with a hologram of Argus - or what was left of it - slowly spinning in the very center of the room. More Draenei guards stood along a balcony above, adorned in armor neither the Sunwalker nor the Necromancer could recognize; they whispered amongst each other the moment the two stepped in, and although Istrys couldn’t see their glowing eyes underneath their strange helmets, she knew all of them were staring at her. Their hatred for undead was common knowledge, and that went double for undead necromancers; how ironic, she thought, that the harder one fervently worshiped the Light, the more they feared the Void. A Lightforged Draenei adorned in glowing armor and a shimmering cloak of light turned away from the table to face Gonthar and Istrys once they ascended the small steps to the main platform, with Istrys immediately taking notice of a great shadow lurking in the dark in the corner. “Ahh. Oathguard finally come, yes? We have little time for talking.”

Istrys and Gonthar exchanged glances before approaching the table. He wouldn’t need a translator after all. “I am Gonthar Sunsheath, Oathguard Commander. This here is Istrys, my second in command.”

“T'aarth is name. Vice Admiral of Gladicaar.” The Draenei beckoned the fel creature sulking in the corner over, which provoked him to rise to his towering height and step into the light.

“Lord Blightclaw. Illidari.” The Night Elf - or what was left of him after his grisly transformation into a Demon Hunter - studied the two newcomers behind his tattered blindfold. “Now that introductions are out of the way, we should explain our roles in this operation.”

The Sunwalker cleared his throat before speaking. “The Oathguard stands ready to breach Miraan’s flagship and take the fight to her directly. I trust my… colleague… has discovered the rest of the sequence?”

“Your pet warlock has proven himself useful enough.” Lord Blightclaw shrugged, inadvertently shaking his leathery wings. “But there's a problem. Miraan resides in the Krakenax, one of the more… notorious… world-burners. We’ll need more time to charge our gateway. Time we can’t afford.”

T'aarth nodded his head with a grimace spread cross his lips. “Before boarding ship, we must disable first. Powerful guns cut through Gladicaar like knife through butter. Krakenax lay waste to ground forces too.” He paused to study everyone closely. “Anti-aircraft cannons prevent direct approach. But we cannot destroy cannons without Krakenax intervention.”

“So we need to clip her wings before our infiltration. But we can't do that while the ship is hiding behind her ground fortifications, and we can't destroy them without fiery death raining down on us from above?” Istrys crossed her arms and scowled. “I don't suppose anyone has any ideas?”

“Just one.” Lord Blightclaw said. “The Illidari will rush one of the cannons and make as much noise as we can to draw her out of hiding.”

“That would be suicide…” Gonthar muttered. “You would march your hunters to their deaths for a distraction? Why?”

Vice Admiral T'aarth pounded his fist against his chest. “Warframe squadrons will then attack Krakenax. Miraan will be distracted... so ship will be vulnerable to infiltration.”

Gonthar didn't know how to respond to this plan. The Illidari were willing to use themselves as bait, and the Army of the Light wanted to send a few squadrons against a Burning Legion flagship and whatever anti-air guns planetside. A massacre would be the best case scenario. “If this is our best course of action… so be it.”

“It is only course of action.” The Vice Admiral assured him, staring the tauren down with his blindingly golden eyes.

“Don't feel too bad for us, Commander Gonthar.” Lord Blightclaw sneered through razor-sharp teeth. “You'll be the ones in the belly of the beast to face Miraan head on.” He leaned forward and furrowed his brow at him. “Can your Oathguard handle that? Are you up to the task?”

Gonthar’s mane bristled while he stood as straight as he could. “We will not let you down.”

“Good. My Demon Hunters are already on the move.” Lord Blightclaw waved his hand dismissively before turning his back to the others. “Suffer well.”

Istrys rolled her eyes as he left, clearly unimpressed. Gonthar saluted the Vice Admiral then turned to leave as well, but he didn’t make it three steps before the guards near the door stood in their way again. “Wait. Commander Gonthar.” T’aarth called out, stepping around the table. “I have personal favor to ask. If you would listen, yes?”

“Of course.” Gonthar and Istrys exchanged skeptical glances. “What would you ask of me?”

Vice Admiral T’aarth waved one of the guards atop the balcony. “J’azel! Tichar ashj tiriosh!” The tapping of the guard’s hooves against the floor put a sly smirk across Istrys’ face, but she wasn’t dumb enough to say anything. The Draenei stopped beside the Vice Admiral, and slowly removed her helmet to reveal a full head of golden blonde hair and striking yellow eyes. “Enkil buras… azgala ruuk.”

The woman nodded, and turned to Gonthar and Istrys before clearing her throat. “Hello… J’azel is name…” Her orcish was even worse than the Vice Admiral’s. “When fighting on Krakenax begins… please let talk… let talk to Miraan.”

“Talk?” Istrys scowled. “We’re here to kill that bitch, not negotiate. We’re going to cut her nose to navel and find out what she’s really made of.”

“Please…” J’azel insisted. “Please let talk to Miraan.”

“We’ve talked to this woman before.” Gonthar said, shooting Istrys a burning glare. “She’s a ruthless monster… why would we risk giving her the upper hand?” J’azel looked to T’aarth, who slowly nodded back at her.

“Miraan is…” She paused, letting her gaze drop to the floor. “... sister.”

#The War on Argus

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