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To Champion the North {Part One}

Post by Neonhyper

The ominous howling of the northern winds raged outside the flimsy walls of the canvas tent, snapping the heavy fabric in sharp motions under its unrelenting force. It brought with it the haunting voices of the land, the whispers of the living dead, their rattling bones and gnashing moans. The nightmarish cacophony had become a surreal reality, keeping even the most hardened men shivering and praying in their bedroll from the bloodstained memories the sounds drew forth. Guinevare lied and listened to the echoes, hissing to the woman curled within her own bedding and savoring the pittance warmth it gave. Tonight was a night that shouldn’t have been spent awake, but a pervading uneasiness, like a strangling shroud, kept her from a comfortable respite.

A rustle of cloth pulled back the flap of the tent, too slowly to have been the gales, and sent her anxious heart pounding. Her fingers were numb within her gloves, yet tightened around the hilt of a dagger laid hidden beneath her head. She waited, holding her breath as the muffled sound of snow crushed beneath the blanket thrown over the ground crept closer. At the last moment, she shot from her bedroll and upwards slashed the concealed blade. The tip of which now rested a hair’s breadth from the face of a terrified youth.

“M-Miss Henbane!” the boy stuttered, the brass lantern he held by the handle creaked as it rattled. The warm light illuminated by the small flame cast menacing, twisting shadows through its glass prison.

“Kenneth?” Guinevare asked, lowering the weapon glinting in the firelight after propping herself up by the elbow. Her black hair was in disarray, long strings of soaked curls stuck to her angled face. She swept a clump out of her eyes and squinted at the adolescent crouching in front of her. His wide eyes were set above cold flushed cheeks, and a trembling mouth was attempting to find words. Flakes of snow were spread across the surface of the hood pulled tight over his head, while the cloak it was attached to billowed out like water.

“Lieu-Lieutenant Hoalson s-sent me to find you,” he explained hurriedly. “The s-sentries switched, so we’re ready t-to go.”

With a grunt of acknowledgment, Guinevare turned and slammed her dagger back into the empty sheath lying nearby. She took Kenneth’s outstretched hand and used it as an aid to push herself to her feet, proceeding afterwards to strap on the belt the scabbards were attached to. The youth waited patiently, albeit nervously, as Guinevare pulled up a mask to cover her lower face and a hood and gathered up her bedroll. Kenneth led the way, exiting the woman’s tent as she followed. Outside she straightened to an average height and looked out across the maze of soldiers’ tents and half-ruined structures. Captain Valonforth was so convinced the Prince would return that the workers had been sent to repair the buildings damaged after Mal’Ganis’ counterattack.

Guinevare still remembered that night clearly. She had been among the scouts sent to find the dreadlord’s base, and they found him soundly fortified with an ancient complex of stone. The Scourge had set up its own defenses upon the blighted ground, but the original architecture was unmistakable. Walls, spires, temples, and statues were all made of clean lines and angular shapes. Yet, no matter how breathtaking the sight, the chaos that followed overshadowed it. They rode back as fast as their horses would go through waist high snow to inform the Prince of the location of his quarry. Everything went downhill from there.

Arthas had no qualms with sending his troops to a hopeless battle as he ran off with Muradin Bronzebeard. The army marched across the river to face the undead armies, but was almost immediately pushed back to its base. Carnage came afterwards, where the Scourge swarmed across the waters like a tide of bones and death. Abominations cleaved through groups of veterans like rags and the ghouls pounced and swarmed the unlucky soldier to be caught alone. Men were flayed alive and the leftovers haphazardly pieced together and turned on their former allies. Skeletal dragons and gargoyles eclipsed the sky. Hails of frost rained down and crushed buildings and soldiers alike. Their salvation came when the Prince returned, without the dwarf, bearing a blade that cut a bloody swath through the undead ranks and straight to Mal’Ganis. They say he slew the dreadlord. Then he disappeared.

Some that survived were loyal and willing enough to wait until the Prince returned. Guinevare wasn’t one of them. They had been waiting weeks and there was no sign of their leader, and the army was slowly freezing and starving to death. She was about follow in the footsteps of those who had already deserted. It was ironic, as at the start of the campaign pushing northwards the very thought of desertion would have been considered treason. Now, deserting was a chance at survival, instead of the fate of being buried in a nameless grave in a frozen wasteland.

It was the middle of the night, now. The moon was full but shrouded by dark clouds. Snow fell in flurries, whipping against the pair traveling across the camp with the winds, and covered their tracks almost as soon as they made them. Kenneth’s outstretched hand, holding the lantern that swayed and the flame that flickered precariously, shivered as he used his free hand to pull his cloak closer against him. Guinevare shuddered, the cold still biting even under her wraps of leather. Not a soul stirred as they neared the edge of the encampment where the sentries watched for Northrend’s many horrors. A small thicket of trees, untouched by the loggers, was one of the sentry posts, where two men were already causing a quiet commotion of activity.

“Oi! Git yer hands off’a my explosives, ye git!” one of them, a stocky dwarf, exclaimed. Torkein Stoneborn tugged furiously on his coal black beard, which was tied into a thick braid at the end. Without care to the weather, he pushed his sleeves up and balled his hands into fists, storming over to the other man pulling a crate out from the cover of the trees.

“Shut it, Torkein!” came the reply from a human well into the middle of his life. Rand Hoalson’s red hair was greying from the roots and his face was hardened with stress and experience. A thick scar ran down the left side of his face and down his chin.

“Oh! I see ‘ow it is, ye want ta be responsible when ye blow us all ta’da Light’s embrace!” the dwarf shot back. Despite the difference in height the dwarf managed to tear the crate from Rand’s arms and carry it, carefully, over to the rest of the supplies pulled from the hiding place.

As Guinevare and Kenneth approached, the scout pulled her mask down, “Lieutenant,” she said, with curt formality.

Rand looked up, eyes narrowing at the sight of the two newcomers, “Henbane. Whiteridge.”

“ ‘ey, Ginny! Gimmie a ‘and over ‘ere will ye? We gotta get these supplies out ‘an ready when the others bring o’er the pack animal!” Torkein raised his head. “I wan’ta be out o’ ‘ere quick as possible!”

“You sure did manage to get quite a bit,” Guinevare looked over at Kenneth. The bright-eyed lad was—had been— the quartermaster’s assistant, and some creative cheating with the log book was perhaps the only reason their plan could actually come to fruition.

Kenneth chuckled nervously, “I hope nobody notices until we’re really far away.”

The group of four turned their attention to removing the last bags and boxes of supplies from the trees. It was enough to last, but still little enough that it would fit on one beast of burden; a horse that would arrive not long after, being escorted by the last two of their intended merry company. A slender woman with pale hair, her thick robes as white as the snow she was ghosting across, was patiently moving alongside the equine, comforting it and keeping it from making noise. Leading the beast was a tall quel’dorei man, wearing a lavish cloak over his embroidered robe. His dark brown hair was long and spilled out past his shoulders, framing the beautiful features his race was known for.

Juliene Lavly and Avothen Drowmere approached the others, “It looks like we were the last ones,” the high elf observed, looking over at Juliene. The human woman straightened, giving the horse one last rub on the snout before turning to the rest of the group.

“Does that mean we’re all ready?” she asked.

“All that’s left is loading up the supplies,” Guinevare said.

“Then it’s out of this Light forsaken wasteland at last,” Rand snarled.

“The Light forsakes nothing, Lieutenant, not even the darkest regions of the world,” Juliene murmured, as Avothen led the horse to be loaded up by Kenneth and Guinevare.

The soldier’s frozen armor clanked together as he turned to look at the priestess, “Keep preaching, Lavly. Perhaps someone here might believe you eventually.”

Juliene’s mouth pursed into a tight line, and she stood with the wind and snow swirling the skirt of her robe for a long moment before she pulled herself together and trudged towards the others. It didn’t take long to strap everything on to the horse, every bag of food, the bedrolls, the tarps, and Torkein’s crates of explosives that he refused to part with. When they were done, Kenneth shifted under his cloak and pulled out a metal tube, which he passed over to Rand.

“What’s this?” the Lieutenant grunted.

“A map, should be as accurate as you’re going to get,” the boy replied. “It’s inside, the container is to keep it from getting wet—“

“I know what it’s for!” Rand cut him off sharply.

Kenneth swallowed and nodded, taking a step back. The older man clenched his fist around the map’s container and sighed roughly. He looked over at the encampment and gave a stiff salute, “Good luck,” Rand said simply, before taking a crisp breath of arctic air and beginning the journey away from the rest of the Lordaeron army.

Torkein grumbled something under his breath, storming after the Lieutenant. Kenneth walked up to the horse and took the reigns, smiling at the creature, before leading it after the others. The quel’dorei and the priestess followed afterwards, leaving Guinevare by herself. She didn’t leave, right away, taking a moment to look back at the broken base she was abandoning, “Light save your souls,” the scout whispered quietly, before turning and walking off, “and ours.”

Post by Neonhyper

Author's Comments:

- SO. RUSTY. AT. WRITING.

- It took me literally like, an hour or two to write the first couple of paragraphs. I was so sick by the end I just gave up trying to make the writing go well.

- This is the 'origin' story for my rogue, Guinevare Henbane. Yay.

- I don't actually promise you'll get a part two, but it you do, it will be better than this. I promise. I hope.

Post by lightnstuff

Post by morginar

Don't feel so bad about your writing, i couldn't even try to write something like this. Also love the writing can hardly wait for part 2.

Post by Neonhyper

Look, if you make a part two BETTER than this you might hurt someone. While I admit it's a little wordy in the beginning we've discussed you and other people like this. It's an interesting snippet of life in a grim, yet familiar environment and it manages to bring some intensity without zombies.

Then pain shall be dealt like furious thunder! *maniacal cackling*

And glad that the intended feeling is getting through :'D It's kind of fun looking into an unexplored area, as we know all about what Arthas did after the end of the Human Campaign, but what about the whole army he left behind?

~~Oh and there will be zombies. Eventually.~~Don't feel so bad about your writing, i couldn't even try to write something like this. Also love the writing can hardly wait for part 2.

<33 Aww, thank you! I hope to not disappoint!

Post by Persen

I liked it a lot.

Northrend is by far my preferred environment. Terror, an unrelenting enemy with a cruel war machine, a landscape that hates you, etc.
Good, grim writing in an epic setting? I'm sold.

Post by Morec0

Oooooh! Nice read! Can't wait to see more!

I epescially liked the setting. It's not often we see a story for a character that is set before the actual events of WoW. This'll be a nice change of pace! Can't wait to read more!

To Champion the North {Part One}

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