Vincit Qui Se Vincit Chapter Four

Vincit Qui Se Vincit

Chapter Four

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I, Jaina, Scion of the Proudmoore family and Heiress to the Grand Admiralty of Kul Tiras (following the death of my elder brother Derek during the Second War) and Student of Archmage Antonidas of the Kirin Tor, was nervous. There were rumours flying across Dalaran, rumours that Lordaeron was under siege, the outer farmsteads burning…the undead returned.

The Undead. The monsters that Arthas had damned himself trying to fight. The monsters that had killed so many, and the monsters that had arguably only become the threats that they had because my mentor and my ex-future-father-in-law had ignored The Prophet’s warnings about the danger posed by the Plague. If they had returned and were besieging Lordaeron, the Alliance would have to march as one. We had to destroy them this time, had to put an end to their entirety so that they could never rise again. Otherwise, they would be a threat to all races in perpetuity.

Light, I hoped that Arthas and Calia were okay, my former love had already been through so much, and Calia was my best and dearest friend. We had grown up together, played games and rode through the countryside, giggled over the handsome knights and squabbled over Arthas’ attention.

I sighed, running a hand through my long, silken blonde hair, wondering if I should wait for a call to be put out or if I should make the first move myself. My position was hardly precarious, as the Archmage’s protégé I had significant influence and respect, but I doubted Antonidas would be happy if I went around recruiting his subordinates for a war against an undead horde without his permission. On the other hand, I was perfectly willing to deal with a lecture from my mentor if it meant actually accomplishingsomething against such a threat, rather than having long and speech-laden meetings about it.

Envoys would have to be sent out, of course, to rally Lordaeron’s allies, and even her enemies if needs be. I held no love for the brutish Horde, but quite frankly the Undead care not one whit for politics, and an undead Horde was even less appealing that the regular one. Mage portals and teleportations would prove necessary, of course, to move messages and forces as quickly as possible. Some druidic assistance to create blockages and bottlenecks wouldn’t be terribly amiss either. And healing, I couldn’t forget the healing. Anything that could be done to lessen the casualties (and therefore the enemies that would be fought) was vital. For those that were beyond help…perhaps a cadre of fire mages to immolate their bones before the reanimation took place? It was not the preferred method of burial for most of the human kingdoms, but if the situation called for it…?

CLANG-CLANG-CLANG! CLANG-CLANG-CLANG! CLANG-CLANG-CLANG!

The deep thunder of the alarm bells echoed throughout Dalaran, shattering my thought process, and without a thought I hiked up the skirts of my robes and broke into a run as I headed for the Violet Citadel. I could feel the city’s massive wards rising like a storm at the edge of my mystical perception, an inexorable tide of unfathomable power as they woke from their hibernation in response to whatever threat was now approaching.

Merchants, guards, and mages of all races and experience were racing to and fro as they carried out their duties, panicked, or both. In fact, looking at most of them, I was willing to bet that it was both. Dalaran hadn’t been attacked since the Second War, and even then, it was a token force that had been turned back fairly easily. Its people were simply not used to being threatened by anyone or anything, for it was a city of mages that resided directly between the vast lands of Lordaeron and the small but mighty Gilneas. Few threats could pass its neighbors to assail it directly, and those that might have the ability were reluctant to brave those armies only to face the greatest wielders of magic on the face of Azeroth.

There was a roar in the distance, vast and echoing, and I felt the wards buckle and throb as they tried and failed to prevent the entrance of something powerful, only to fail in that task. Interestingly, the wards only buckled. Whoever, whatever, had roared was simply passed through them by force, rather than attacking them directly in an effort to collapse them.

There was a thud, an impact that I could feel as much as I could hear it, and another. A rhythmic cascade, shaking the world, and I looked up as a vast shadow swept over the city as a dragon swept overhead. A dragon larger than I had imagined they could be, save the Aspects themselves, and for a moment I feared that this dark giant was Deathwing himself. But no, all the histories had made it clear that the former Earth Warder was literally coming apart at the seams, glowing and malevolent. Whoever this dragon was, it was not he.

As the briefly all-consuming thrill of fear faded, I realized that it hadn’t been the only feeling that swept through me at the sight of the flying entity. Unless fear aroused me, but while I enjoyed a good bodice-ripper as much as the next girl, sheer terror was not normally something that would make my nipples painfully hard and my loincloth embarrassingly damp. The clinical part of my mind, pushing its way past the remnants of fear and the tide of lust, noted that I had felt such lust (and had the same reaction) in the afternoon hours of yesterday. It also nodded that the dragon was headed directly for the Violet Citadel, and I would not leave my mentor and my friends to face it alone if it was an enemy.

Fortunatly, when I skidded to a halt in the plaza with my staff in hand and my most powerful spells at the forefront of my mind, I saw only a pair of women my own age standing there, the Council of Six before them. One was clad in finely made steel armor (its quality was obvious even at the distance of fifty yards or so) with a long spear on her back, and the other….

“Calia!” I cried, rushing forward and tossing my staff aside without care as I threw my arms around the Princess of Lordaeron, who gave a soft grunt of surprise at the impact, even as her arms rose automatically to go around my waist. Holding her close, I reveled in the familiar comfort of her embrace and the knowledge that she was safe. “Oh, Calia, you’re safe! When I heard the rumors that Lordaeron was under siege, I was so worried! Is Arthas alright, your Father?”

I felt her stiffen in my arms, the warmth of her affection turning wooden, and despaired in my heart. Such a reaction boded ill, but how could the Scourge have laid Arthas low? With only a hundred men, he had returned to rest the entire population of Stratholme. Surely, with the full might of Lordaeron, he could not have fallen in battle? And Terenas was much too old to take to the battlefield, so he couldn’t possibly have come to harm!

“Lordaeron has fallen, Jaina. My father is dead, along with nine-tenths of the city and almost all of the outlying farms and villages. Brill, Solliden, Stillwater, Agamand…all gone. What’s left of the Crownlands are fleeing through the Eastweald as we speak, pursued by the Scourge.” Calia told me softly, sadly, as she pulled away to look into my eyes, and I was sure by heart and breathe both stopped as I struggled to grasp the horror she was describing to me.

“Lordaeron, fallen?! Impossible! Even Doomhammer himself could not breach your walls, despite his best efforts! What threat could the undead pose to so fortified and heavily defended a city? Surely it was not plague-grain?” I finally choked out, incredulous at the very idea of the mightiest city in the world collapsing so quickly. It was absurd, unthinkable!

“It was not through the plague that Lordaeron was laid low, but it was through the machinations of the Lich King all the same. You may recall that Arthas pursued Mal’ganis all the way to Northrend itself, desperate to gain vengeance for his murdered people?” the woman with Calia asked, and I gave a start as I looked over at her, immediately realizing (not that I had been thinking about it much, given my excitement over seeing Calia alive and well) where the dragon I had seen fly overhead had gone. I nodded numbly, thoughts that were profoundly inappropriate for the circumstances flashing through me mind, and she gave me a smile that was somehow even sadder than Calia’s own had been. “While he was there, he heard rumors of a mighty runesword named Frostmourne, capable of laying waste to entire armies. Unfortunately, in the mindset he possessed at the time, he lacked the foresight to hear that name and the legends and wonder what the price of that much power would be. The first time he grasped the hilt of that sword, Arthas the Paladin Prince of Lordaeron died, and in his place stood Arthas the Death Knight of the Lich King. It was he who killed Terenas and opened the city to the Scourge.”

“It can’t be! Arthas would never be so foolish!” I protested immediately, dismissing the idea without a moment’s thought. He might have done brutal things, things I could not support him in, during his purging of Stratholme, but that did not make him foolish enough to fall into so obvious a trap!

“Not unless he felt abandoned and helpless. My brother never handled feeling alone or useless well, Jaina, you know that as well as I do. As hard as it may be to believe, and as much I hate to hurt you by confirming it, Lady Andraste is right. My brother is gone, and a monster now wears his skin. A monster that killed our father, butchered my loyal guards before my eyes, and tried to kill me and raise me in undeath. Were it not for a timely intervention, he would have succeeded.” Calia told me gently, the sadness in her eyes now heavily threaded with pity, knowing how much I cared for Arthas. Even Stratholme had not been enough to truly kill my romantic love for him, and I doubted I would ever stop loving him as my old and precious friend.

“This is grave news indeed, Your Highness…no, Your Majesty.” The solemn tones of my mentor distracted me from the agony in my heart, and I looked over to see Council approaching, and I blushed in shame as Antonidas held my staff out to me with a chastising look. I could hear the lecture already, the reminder that such treatment of so valuable and vital an item to my position and class was unacceptable. “You have my thanks, Lady Andraste, for your rescue of Queen Calia.”

“Your thanks is appreciated, but unnecessary. I’ll not remain passive while the whole of the Eastern Kingdoms is butchered and raised into undeath. Besides, she is a magnificent companion, worthy of great praise.” The dragoness responded with a dismissive flick of her fingers, as if shooing his words away. My eyes widened, then narrowed, as Calia blushed prettily in response to both the words and the almost possessive way Andraste ran a hand down her back. “We have come in an effort to secure assistance for Calia’s people, and present a plan for total victory over the Scourge.”

“I assured my Lady Andraste that the Kirin Tor would not ignore the threat of the Scourge, despite any justified irritation they might feel with the House of Menethil for failing to recognize the severity of the warnings given. I, myself, have all faith that between the aid of the Kirin Tor and the Nations of The Alliance, this threat will be eradicated once and for all.” The not-yet-crowned Queen of Lordaeron added, sounding as confident in her assertion as her words implied, but Jaina picked up an undercurrent she hadn’t heard since her childhood. The rare (for Calia) undercurrent of ‘or else’.

“You will hear no objections from the Violet Citadel on the matter of eradicating the undead, but I confess to some concern about your nature, Lady Andraste. The Children of the Aspects are not known for their interventions, especially not the children of Deathwing the Destroyer.” Antonidas, likely quite used to such an attitude from well-born young men and women, seemed unphased as he focused on the humanoid dragoness, who met his eyes steadily with a hint of a smirk on her lips. “You say you wish to save the Eastern Kingdoms, which is all to the good of course, but of what interest does such a thing hold for you?”

“Do you lack such foresight, human? Do you believe that the Undead, servants that they are of the Burning Legion, are a threat which care for the borders and loyalties of the races? Do you believe that, when the Lich King turns the vast reaches of the Nerubian Empire and your own defiled husks against Dragonblight, my kin will be able to turn the tide by themselves?” she responded, tone as cutting as it was disappointed. “I act not only in your best interests, but in my own as well. Put aside your biases and your misconceptions, they will do you no good in the war with which we are faced. Calia?”

“Of course.” The Menethil responded, stepping away from me entirely and turning to look at my mentor, a firm but diplomatic expression on her face. “Archmage Antonidas, I would ask for the help of Jaina and Archmage Modera in our next task, while Dalaran prepares itself to aid us against the Scourge both directly and logistically. The Lady Andraste will be leaving me in Gilneas to rally support from my southern cousins, while she and those two ensure that Caer Darrow is capable of sustaining refugees. If it is, they will ward it to the Shadowlands and back. Those of my people least capable of sustained travel will remain there, while the rest draw the Scourge deep into the Eastweald. The anvil to our allies’ hammer.”

“You ask me to send my apprentice and one of my colleagues with an unknown Black Dragon, simply upon your own say-so?” Antonidas raised his eyebrows, and Jaina swallowed discreetly as Calia flashed him a smirk that looked remarkably like the one Andraste still wore.

“I ask for nothing, only tell you what must happen for all of us to survive and flourish. This is not an enemy for which ‘the long view’ is suited, Archmage. My Lady realized this and moved forward without the support of her kin. Where she leads, we must follow.” She responded confidently, boldly giving what was clearly a thinly veiled command to a man older than her own father had been, and someone who had the magical power to level cities single-handed. The air grew tense as the pair of leaders stared one another down, before Antonidas chuckled and inclined his head respectfully.

“Very well then. I am not without eyes nor good sense. Jaina, you and Modera will accompany our northern friends and aid them in their efforts. Make careful note of anything you can as you contend with the Scourge and emplace your wards, for knowledge is power and prevention both.” He said, glancing at Jaina and beckoning over the named member of The Council of Six, who approached with a tentative but determined air about her. “In the meantime, we will send word to Ironforge and your other allies. It will take time for them to summon their armies, but with the help of Dalaran they should be able to move them to the field in good time.”

“We must set off, then. We have little time to waste.” Andraste declared, stepping back slightly, and I collapsed to my knees with a whimper as her form vanished in a pillar of power to be replaced by the black mass of her draconic form. Modera, I could see, was similarily affected, staring up at the towering form before us with lidded eyes.

“Magnificent, no?” Calia asked rhetorically, pulling first myself than Modera upright, leading us over to the base of one clawed forelimb. Moments later we were astride the muscular, scaled neck and the wind was swirling around us as Andraste took to the sky and began winging her way south-west towards Gilneas.

I couldn’t help but wonder how much more my world was going to change now.

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Andraste

152 Hours to Initiation of Player versus Player features

It shouldn’t be too hard for me to get Tess and Lorna alone for you to Claim, Mistress. Is there no one else in Gilneas that is to your tastes? Calia’s mind whispered, brushing against mine like a cat rubbing against its owner’s legs, and I sent back a sensation of {Denial}. She hummed thoughtfully before radiating {Contentment}. Fine with me. Will you claim Jaina and Modera before we arrive?

Yes, soon in fact. The Shroud will settle over them and their enhancements will take hold before I claim the Gilneans. With the Crowley and Greymane daughters under my influence, and you standing before him, the King will not refuse Lordaeron’s pleas for aid a second time.

“We should approach Lord Crowley first. He sent some soldiers to assist Arthas and myself, against King Greymane’s express orders, when the Undead first appeared and the call for aid was sent out. His lands are closest to Calia’s own, and he is sympathetic to her people and popular with his own.” Jaina’s voice broke the both of us from our private conversation, and Calia half-turned to look at where the mage apprentice sat a few inches behind her.

“An honorable man. I had heard that he had done so, and that King Greymane was angry about it. With his support and my own social status, King Greymane will not be able to reject a demand for audience quite so easily.” She looked back down at me, mind questing even as her mouth shaped words. “My Lady, I think it might be a good idea to take Jaina’s advice. If we land near Pyrewood, it won’t take us long to reach the Greymane Wall.”

“Agreed. We make for Pyrewood, then. There may yet be horses available. I have no interest in evading cannonfire because I approached The Wall in this form.” I rumbled, banking further west, Calia’s {Amusement} and {Bemusement} that I would be Claiming, even if not claiming, Jaina and Modera not a half-mile from where I had spent hours plundering her body last night.

“So how did you and Andraste meet, exactly, Cally? You said that she saved from your brother?” Jaina asked softly, probably as softly as she could in the hopes of keeping the conversation private, and Calia’s {Amusement} grew, as well as her {Sorrow}, and I sent a wave of {Reassurance} and {Comfort}.

“Yes. Arthas and his two Captains had just killed the last of my Royal Guard, and he was just…ranting and raving. It was like talking to a fanatic, just rambling about how being alive is a cruel joke by the gods, that being raised into undeath is the pinnacle of existence, something to aspire too.” She explained, in a tone of exhaustion that was only mostly feigned. “Anyway, that’s when Lady Andraste showed up in human form. Fought all three of them in melee before grabbing me and jumping up to the roof. We met up with one of her servants and the garrison of Fenris Keep and got a rough plan in place before heading to Dalaran.”

“To think even Falric and Marwyn have been killed and Raised. Arthas loved them like brothers, I can’t imagine him harming them of his own will anymore than he would harm you.” Jaina murmured sadly, shifting forward slightly to hug Calia again. “Damn and blast the Lich King and his Cult! I’ll see the lot of them as ashes for destroying good men like your brother and his Knights!”

“Damn the Legion, Jaya. If it wasn’t for them, the Horde would still be shamanic farmers on Draenor, and the Scourge wouldn’t exist at all. They’ve coveted this world for tens of thousands of years, and no matter how many times they have been cast out, they return with yet another plan to bring ruin to everything we love.” Calia reminded her, getting a grudging grunt of acknowledgment, before giving a soft and wry laugh. “Still, I agree that the Cult of the Damned and the Lich King need to be dealt with first. The endless demonic hordes of the Legion are a threat to face another day, with a more unified Azeroth.”

“Azeroth was barely unified when the Horde was quite literally pounding on their collective gates, what makes you think they will stand together against a more nebulous and distant threat, such as the Legion?” Modera asked, not quite aggressive but with an edge beyond simple curiosity all the same.

“As I said to Antonidas, where my Lady leads, Azeroth will follow. You’ll see it soon, the future of our home and the dark truths that hide beneath our feet. Old Gods, fallen Aspects, things that make the Horde seem like bosom friends. Indeed, we must call the Horde to fight at our sides if we want to survive. What is coming is not something that we can fight without the full strength of Azeroth mustered to battle.” Calia declared, her Presence radiating {Pride} and {Faith} in myself and my plans. My leadership.

“Hold on.” I instructed before they had time to respond to her words, banking into a moderate, spiraling dive towards the ground. The ground quaked as I landed in the center of the town, birds and small animals scattering in a terrified cacophony. A flicker of thought had Calia sliding down and helping Jaina, but as Modera moved forward on my back to do the same, I twisted my form and my body both. The bronze-haired Archmage had barely an instant to realize she was cradled in my arms before my teeth closed on her throat. She cried out in pain and pleasure, shuddering in my arms as she came for the second time today, before passing out as the magic took hold. The hot tang of her blood, sizzling with arcane power, and the forming Presence in the Shroud told me the Marking had been successful. Gently placing her on the ground, I turned to Jaina, who was on her knees at Calia’s feet, hands bound behind her back by ropes of Light, staring up at me with wide eyes and a heaving chest. “I can smell your fear, Jaina Proudmoore, and your lust, but only one of them is necessary. I don’t intend to harm you any more than I harmed Calia when I claimed her for my own. You will be a Treasure in my Horde, a beautiful gem to be admired and treated with care and reverence for eternity. A Companion, a lover and confidant. Trusted and heeded in matters of war and peace.”

“What are you? What did you do to Modera? What did you do to Calia?!” she asked, hands twisting in their bonds as I went down on one knee before her and tugged her against me, tilting her chin up with a long finger as I gazed into her eyes.

“I am Andraste, The Conquering Dragon of Eternity. An entity beyond this world, here to deliver it from the fate it would have otherwise suffered without my intervention, and here to deliver you from a lifetime of pain and regret. Calia has submitted to her place at my side, as you and Modera both shall. I promise you an eternity of joy and love, Jaina, and one of saving the innocent from damnation. You’ll understand everything soon.” I promised her, before tugging her head to the side and claiming her as I had the others. She shuddered and cried out in my grip, the scent of her pleasure and blossoming power flooding my senses, and I kissed her forehead before lowering her to the ground.

“This is not the manner I ever imagined having Jaina as a sister, Mistress, but I confess I prefer it this way. I fantasized a few times about being engaged to her in my brother’s place, you know.” Calia murmured, kneeling down and leaning against my side as she looked down at the unconscious Kul Tiran, and I hummed in interested acknowledgment. After a moment, she brushed a strand of Jaina’s hair off of the girl’s face before looking up at me. “I doubt there are truly any horses here, Mistress. Silverlaine wouldn’t have left any behind, nor would the villagers. How are we to reach Crowley in a timely manner?”

“Once your sisters awaken, I will show you just how enhanced you have all become. You are all beyond human limitations now, and that includes your speed and endurance on foot.” I smirked, a tendril of magic snaking around Modera to lift her into the air and maneuver her to lie beside Jaina. “Amongst other things, of course, as you discovered last night.”

“…you’re a pervert, Mistress…” Calia sighed with a blush, one far lighter than it would have been before I demonstrated that endurance (if in a rather different application) on both our parts in the eight hours of debauchery that had taken place in the Keep last night. “A lewd, lewd defiler of helpless and innocent maidens. What am I supposed to do about your ravenous, bestial appetites?”

“I’m sure we can think of a way to satiate me, princess, before I carry you off to my tower to devour you.” I purred in carnal promise, before pausing thoughtfully. “Actually, I suppose the devouring in the tower happened last night. Still, practice makes perfect~!”

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