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Alleria's eyes widened as she recognized that name and froze.
It was the name of the oldest and most revered female hero of the Night Elves. In fact, she was perhaps the most famous female hero of the entire elven race on Azeroth.
Tyrande Whisperwind was a legend who had lived for several millennia, from the chaotic times of the Stygian Era up to the current age.
She was originally the General of the Night Elf Sentinels before taking on the position of High Priestess of Elune, one of the aspects of Lileath. She had led the combined elven races through that chaotic time alongside other elven heroes.
She was also perhaps one of the only ones still alive who knew the true reason why the High Elves were banished from the Kalimdor Archipelago — an event that led to their settlement and the creation of Quel'Thalas in the northernmost part of Arda.
There were even assumptions among historians that she had participated in the ancient wars initiated by Emperor Thoradin, helping drive off the enemies of the civilized races.
After the end of the ancient war, Tyrande returned to the Kalimdor Archipelago and formally took on leadership of the Night Elf race. However, records scarcely mention any other major involvement by the Night Elves after that.
She was admired by many elves, especially elven women who considered her a role model. Lireesa Windrunner herself had nothing but respect for the legendary Night Elf. In fact, Alleria's younger sister, Vereesa, considered her a personal inspiration.
So it begged the question: why was she, of all people, here of all places — especially since the Night Elves were known to be highly isolationist?
And perhaps now she could finally get deeper answers to the questions she had been wondering about ever since Krasus told them of the Night Elven involvement.
"Then please, by all means, enlighten me, Lady Whisperwind. While we are very thankful for any aid, without context we cannot be at ease."
Tyrande frowned, though not at Alleria's probing tone, but at the recent events.
"I believe that the Red Dragon Lord Krasus has given you and your companions an initial report on our involvement?"
Alleria nodded and relayed what Krasus had told them.
"Good. Then I only need to clarify a few matters to make our stance clear."
"Months ago, we were approached by a branch of our shared elven kin called the Harlequins. They bypassed the World Ring's shield and the twin moons' gravity wells through the use of a temporary Webway portal, along with the aid of Cegorach."
Alleria was surprised, as she — like many others — knew that entry and exit from Azeroth was extremely difficult due to the World Ring and the gravity wells.
Not to mention that, for some unknown reason, magical means of travel also very rarely worked — and only in small groups, never on a large scale, if one ignored the Warp and its inherent dangers.
But such feats became far more feasible when a god personally intervened.
"The troupe we encountered was small, and they were primarily sent to deliver a message from Cegorach himself."
"A god intervening directly?" Alleria was once again surprised. She knew that the Eldar Pantheon was all but gone, even if some branches of the elven race — like the Night Elves — still clung to their faith.
From what she had learned through ancient texts and from her own parents, the gods rarely, if ever, meddled in mortal affairs after Asuryan forbade contact following the fiasco involving Khaine after Lileath's prophecy.
Then the conflict between Khaine and Vaul began — a whole new can of worms.
Due to those events and the decree, the vast majority of the gods, aside from rare exceptions like Isha, no longer maintained contact with the material realm.
This caused much of the Eldar/Elf race to grow disillusioned with the Pantheon.
Alleria would not lie: while she and the other High Elves still respected certain gods like Vaul and Isha, they held only disdain for others, such as Khaine or Asuryan.
Tyrande continued, noticing her skepticism.
"I know it is surprising, but Cegorach, despite his methods, is ultimately a protector god."
"The Troupe Master told us that dark forces were converging on Azeroth, and that without two specific actions, the chances of Azeroth surviving the coming trial would be nonexistent."
"And those are?" Alleria asked, arching an eyebrow.
"First, the surviving kingdoms must unite to face the coming tide. Second, Alastor Wrynn must stand at the very forefront of the current Alliance."
Alleria's eyes narrowed at Tyrande as she glanced at the kneeling, silent Alastor beside the bed where Taria lay comatose.
"And why, pray tell, is a god so interested in Alastor?"
"Not just Cegorach, Alleria Windrunner," Tyrande replied, shaking her head. "The Chaos Gods as well."
"Chaos? I have never heard of such gods," Alleria said, confused by the ominous title.
"The daemons currently attacking and besieging our world are not the same as those we have faced over the millennia. These daemons are subservient to immensely powerful and malevolent entities residing within the Aether — the Four Gods of Chaos, also known as the Ruinous Powers."
Unseen by everyone in the room, the moment the word Chaos was spoken, Alastor's pupils dilated as his mind latched onto that single word.
"These gods and their servants are the primary reason for the current state of the world. They are expending considerable effort to ensure Azeroth falls into their domain."
"As you can see, their servants had been lying low for quite some time, making preparations to ensure victory in this war. But thankfully, we are not without resistance, and the tide can still be turned."
Alleria frowned at what she heard. Now, at last, she had a name for their true enemy.
"What about Queen Taria? How is she in such a condition?"
Tyrande's expression tightened with regret. "Forgive me. That responsibility lies with me and my companions."
"Our main force is in the north, assisting the Allied armies in repelling the Scourge and the forces of Chaos. I, however, took a smaller group and journeyed personally to Stormwind to offer aid and information to its rulers while Krasus retrieved you all."
"Unfortunately, we were too late. By the time we arrived, Stormwind was already under siege, and King Llane had been struck down by the leader of the mortal Chaos forces himself."
Tyrande went on to explain that, knowing time was critical, she and her companions infiltrated the inner city directly. There, they discovered a group of highly skilled black mages — likely accomplices of Malak — attacking the shelters to wreak havoc and assassinate Queen Taria.
She described how they swiftly dispatched the mages and assassins. Unfortunately, the last of them detonated himself in an explosion of Warp energy.
Taria, in an effort to protect a nearby child, seized a fallen knight's energy shield and threw herself in front of the blast. The shield, however, overloaded under the discharge of Warp energy, sending her flying.
"We were able to save both the child and the Queen," Tyrande continued. "We purged the Chaos taint from their bodies and souls. Sadly, the Queen bore the brunt of the Warp explosion. Despite the shield, the shock to her soul forced her into a coma."
Before anyone could respond, a chilling chuckle echoed through the chamber.
Everyone froze.
It came from the most unlikely source.
Alastor's laughter carried an undercurrent of pure rage and malice as he slowly rose to his feet, releasing Taria's hand.
Chaos… Every time, it's Chaos. Bloody, fucking Chaos.
For Alastor, everything had become a living hell.
While he had been away defending his homeland in the west, the world had descended into total war.
He did not know the fate of his lover, Jaina, nor of his close friends like Rhonin in the north. His estranged friend Arthas had all but become a monster.
When he returned to Stormwind, he found his childhood home under siege.
He saw his father on death's door — and then watched the last of his life wither away.
Now he learned that his mother, though alive, lay in a coma, and the chances of her waking were far from promising.
Every tragedy shared one common thread.
Chaos.
Every single event could be traced back to those four miserable tumors festering in the Warp.
…Good.
He had been content with his life — with the future he had chosen. He would have gladly stayed away from the catastrophic mess that was the Milky Way.
But they had made it personal.
And now Alastor had a very legitimate reason to hate them without restraint.
He would ensure it became their greatest mistake.
Rest, Mom. I'll return after I make those bastards pay.
Alastor turned first to Alleria. She met his gaze with concern, and he offered her a small, reassuring smile before unclasping The sheathed Dawn and handing the sword to her.
The blade was his primary weapon — forged by his own hands. It had been his companion for years.
But he would not be using it for what he intended next.
"Ria, can you hold on to Dawn for me?"
Alleria frowned but nodded, accepting the sword.
Alastor inclined his head in thanks before turning to Tyrande and bowing respectfully.
Under normal circumstances, he would have offered fuller courtesies. But after everything that had transpired, he could not summon the composure for more — not even before the most radiant of the Night Elves.
"I am in your debt. Regardless of what has happened or the current state of affairs, my mother lives because of you and your people. That is a debt I will not forget."
"I must go now. But know this — for your actions, you will be treated as friends and allies and shown the respect and courtesy you deserve. You have my word."
Tyrande regarded him carefully. He was both one of the catalysts of the world's current turmoil — and its greatest hope.
And she could not shake the feeling that he was far more than merely a demigod.
It would explain, at least in part, Cegorach's interest in him.
"May your enemies know the terror of your vengeance, Alastor Wrynn."
With one final nod exchanged between them, Alastor left the chamber.
"Sir Gavinrad — with me."
-Flashback End-
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Varian watched with slight worry as Alastor approached the main gates. Beside him stood not only Alleria, but also Tyrande and Gavinrad, who had been ordered by Alastor to remain with the others and ensure that no one interfered.
Alastor did not look at anyone as he approached the gate. He could have used his technopathy to open it mentally, but such thoughts did not cross his mind.
CREEAAAAAKKKKKKK!
Without slowing his stride, he unleashed his telekinetic might and forcefully lifted the massive reinforced alloy gates as though they weighed nothing. Only after he had walked beyond them did he allow them to slam back down with a thunderous crash.
He cast a dark, cold look at the army of mutants and daemons before him, and his pace quickened.
The humans watching from the walls were deeply uneasy as they saw Alastor leave the capital's protection and advance alone — especially Varian, Anduin, Gavinrad, and Bolvar.
Alleria and Tyrande, however, were not worried. They watched stoically, knowing that what would unfold would be anything but simple.
For the enemy, the reaction was very different.
Gul'dan was ecstatic. This was the perfect opportunity to kill Alastor once and for all.
He immediately ordered the daemons and Beastkin forward. Thousands surged at once, charging toward Alastor in a unified wave of madness.
Shockingly, Grimgor did not protest Gul'dan's attempt to steal the kill of the human he had wanted to kill personally. His instincts stirred with a strange and unfamiliar sensation.
Unease.
Mutated Beastkin of Chaos charged with endless bloodlust and hunger, alongside daemons devoted to all Four Chaos Gods.
"Blood for the Blood God!"
"For the Dark Prince!"
"Death and decay for the Grandfather!"
"Burn with the fires of change!"
Like a living tide, they converged on Alastor, bringing with them their insidious and corrupting influence.
If anything, it only made his rage burn hotter.
In his mind, he saw only two images: a woman lying comatose upon a bed… and a man slumped lifeless upon a throne.
The last of his fragile restraint shattered.
He immediately augmented his body to its absolute limit with psionic energy and charged forward, covering the remaining distance in an instant as he blurred from sight.
Carnage erupted.
Plaguebearers and even a Herald of Nurgle detonated under crushing impacts. Formations of Bloodcrushers and their brass steeds were reduced to mangled heaps of gore.
Steeds and Fiends of Slaanesh were shattered into broken fragments. Pink Horrors were obliterated so completely they were unable to split as they normally would upon death.
Beastkin of every type were torn apart the moment they dared enter Alastor's range.
The two-handed thunder hammer in his grip might as well have been weightless with the speed and fury with which he swung it.
Only moments had passed, yet the ground around him was already layered with blood, gore, and the dissipating remains of slain daemons. The humans watching from the walls stared in stunned disbelief at the sudden reversal on the battlefield.
Seemingly dissatisfied with the pace of slaughter through melee alone, Alastor summoned a vast reservoir of purified Warp energy from within himself and unleashed it in the form of magic.
Firestorms erupted.
Spikes of earth burst upward.
Blades of wind scythed across the field.
Dense tornadoes like lances tore through the enemies.
Above, the purple sky darkened as storm clouds gathered unnaturally fast, hurling bolt after bolt of lightning into the Chaos host.
Very little time had passed since the battle began, yet it appeared as though a personal apocalypse had descended upon the attackers. Alastor did not stop moving — blurring across the battlefield even as he unleashed devastation befitting an Archmage.
Awe. Shock. Reverence.
Those were the emotions filling the soldiers and knights upon the walls as they witnessed the mythical display.
Varian, Bolvar, and Gavinrad watched in stunned silence. This was the first time they had seen Alastor truly unleash himself in unrestrained fury.
Even Anduin, who had watched Alastor battle Grimgor at Fort Clover on multiple occasions, found himself surprised at his student's combat powers no matter how many times he had seen it.
Alleria observed with a stoic expression. She knew Alastor's rage was justified after everything that had transpired — and she could not deny a small, vindictive satisfaction at watching the maddened army fall into disarray beneath her lover's wrath.
The Sentinels standing beside Tyrande stared in open shock. It was difficult to accept that a human — of all beings — wielded such mythical power.
Tyrande herself was equally surprised. From this display alone, she understood why she had been told that Alastor would be a priceless ally in the war against Chaos.
Yet unlike the others, she sensed something deeper stirring within him as he carved through the battlefield.
It was the same sensation she had felt earlier — as though something long dormant was awakening.
Slowly but surely.
Tyrande had witnessed countless wonders and horrors across millennia, both in her current mortal form and in her former divine state.
But never anything like this.
…What cause could demand the birth of such a being?
andWhat could a soul like that be capable of?
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