Trial of the Crusader
They tumbled down into the deeps, struggling to right themselves as their heroes only watched on in horror. The champions of the Horde were falling to their deaths - or knowing Arthas’ machinations, worse. Above, the mourning had already begun.
Below, the battle raged on. They plunged into icy water and within instants, felt the chill warded from their bodies by shamanistic magic. They came to the surface and the liquid froze beneath their feet - obeying the call of the two ebon knights who manipulated the powers of frost itself. Forming up quickly, they laid their eyes upon a sight almost as terrifying as the Lich King himself.
A crypt lord - and no mere lieutenant. This creature, though crusted with ice and chitin, was unmistakably Anub’Arak - the traitor king of the Nerubian empire. His chittering voice echoed through the caverns.
“This place will serve as your tomb.”
The heroes responded with their blades as the Nerubian charged. He made his way towards Tair, who was already calling the power of the light to bear. After taking no more than a single step towards the holy warrior, though, he was intercepted by the lightning-covered axe Stormedge - in the more than capable hands of Argentum. A twist of the Death Knight’s wrist, and the axe bit deep into the fallen king. The battle was joined.
The ground began to rumble as the warriors set upon the creature. He tore into the mighty warriors - freezing the air and slashing with serrated claws, but they persisted onwards. Radiant light bounced from hero to hero as the strength of nature knitted their wounds - power borrowed from the elements and the Earthmother herself.
“Rise, minions. Devour them.”
The ground burst forth and more creatures - remnants of the once proud Aqir army - swarmed into the chamber. The crypt lord himself was powerful enough to hold mighty Argentum back from aiding his comrades, but the druid Naryb - a powerful member of the Moonglade - called upon the fury of the primal spirits and took on the form of a bear, then charged to intercept the additional foes before they could so much as scratch any of his allies.
They continued to battle for a time, and it seemed that the heroes would prevail. The Nerubian assault slackened, and the tide of battle was shifting - then the mighty king reared back and gave a mighty roar - submerging below the ground. The heroes paused for a moment - had they won? Then the rumbling in the ground betrayed their worst fears.
“Below!” shouted Xazire, the rogue - hero of Tirisfal. Spikes shot up from beneath the ground, and only through his preternatural agility was he able to avoid being impaled upon it. The ground spikes retracted, but all could feel the burrowing spider lord as it sought out it’s next victim.
Flames danced into the heavens as Duruk - an Orc Warlock so powerful that he was respected in spite of the demonic magic he wielded - shattered a fragment of ice hanging from the ceiling. The icy shards fell to the ground, forming a sheet of hardened permafrost. Without words, everyone else knew what to do.
The wizard and hunter - both legendary in their own rights - launched attacks skyward and soon the ground was coated in a thick sheet of ice. The next time the creature tried to impale one of the heroes, he found himself stuck within the ice. Frustrated, the lord of spiders erupted from the ground.
“Enough of these games! The swarm will over take you!”
“Kill him!” came the voice of the Ebon Champion - Tarial. Wielding a blade forged by the Titans, she leapt upon the creature’s back as it unleashed it’s most fearsome attack. Following her lead, the rest of them set upon the creature with renewed fervor as the room erupted in thousands of crawling beetles. They cut into the chitin, making deep scores, but every cut was healed almost instantly by the foul necromantic energies that the fallen king manipulated.
Walls of energy formed from pure light stabilized the injured as the power of storm bounced from warrior to warrior, closing the wounds as fast as they opened. The undeniable power of the moon burst through Naturon as he filled the room with healing energy.
It is uncertain which of them dealt the final strike. It could have been the felflame hurled by the warlock, or a blade’s deep cut, but one thing is certain. That day, Anub’arak, the high warlord of the Scourge, was slain. Each hero looked at each other, standing over the corpse of one of the strongest foes they had ever faced. Tarial met their glances, nodded, and whispered.
“To Icecrown.”
Below, the battle raged on. They plunged into icy water and within instants, felt the chill warded from their bodies by shamanistic magic. They came to the surface and the liquid froze beneath their feet - obeying the call of the two ebon knights who manipulated the powers of frost itself. Forming up quickly, they laid their eyes upon a sight almost as terrifying as the Lich King himself.
A crypt lord - and no mere lieutenant. This creature, though crusted with ice and chitin, was unmistakably Anub’Arak - the traitor king of the Nerubian empire. His chittering voice echoed through the caverns.
“This place will serve as your tomb.”
The heroes responded with their blades as the Nerubian charged. He made his way towards Tair, who was already calling the power of the light to bear. After taking no more than a single step towards the holy warrior, though, he was intercepted by the lightning-covered axe Stormedge - in the more than capable hands of Argentum. A twist of the Death Knight’s wrist, and the axe bit deep into the fallen king. The battle was joined.
The ground began to rumble as the warriors set upon the creature. He tore into the mighty warriors - freezing the air and slashing with serrated claws, but they persisted onwards. Radiant light bounced from hero to hero as the strength of nature knitted their wounds - power borrowed from the elements and the Earthmother herself.
“Rise, minions. Devour them.”
The ground burst forth and more creatures - remnants of the once proud Aqir army - swarmed into the chamber. The crypt lord himself was powerful enough to hold mighty Argentum back from aiding his comrades, but the druid Naryb - a powerful member of the Moonglade - called upon the fury of the primal spirits and took on the form of a bear, then charged to intercept the additional foes before they could so much as scratch any of his allies.
They continued to battle for a time, and it seemed that the heroes would prevail. The Nerubian assault slackened, and the tide of battle was shifting - then the mighty king reared back and gave a mighty roar - submerging below the ground. The heroes paused for a moment - had they won? Then the rumbling in the ground betrayed their worst fears.
“Below!” shouted Xazire, the rogue - hero of Tirisfal. Spikes shot up from beneath the ground, and only through his preternatural agility was he able to avoid being impaled upon it. The ground spikes retracted, but all could feel the burrowing spider lord as it sought out it’s next victim.
Flames danced into the heavens as Duruk - an Orc Warlock so powerful that he was respected in spite of the demonic magic he wielded - shattered a fragment of ice hanging from the ceiling. The icy shards fell to the ground, forming a sheet of hardened permafrost. Without words, everyone else knew what to do.
The wizard and hunter - both legendary in their own rights - launched attacks skyward and soon the ground was coated in a thick sheet of ice. The next time the creature tried to impale one of the heroes, he found himself stuck within the ice. Frustrated, the lord of spiders erupted from the ground.
“Enough of these games! The swarm will over take you!”
“Kill him!” came the voice of the Ebon Champion - Tarial. Wielding a blade forged by the Titans, she leapt upon the creature’s back as it unleashed it’s most fearsome attack. Following her lead, the rest of them set upon the creature with renewed fervor as the room erupted in thousands of crawling beetles. They cut into the chitin, making deep scores, but every cut was healed almost instantly by the foul necromantic energies that the fallen king manipulated.
Walls of energy formed from pure light stabilized the injured as the power of storm bounced from warrior to warrior, closing the wounds as fast as they opened. The undeniable power of the moon burst through Naturon as he filled the room with healing energy.
It is uncertain which of them dealt the final strike. It could have been the felflame hurled by the warlock, or a blade’s deep cut, but one thing is certain. That day, Anub’arak, the high warlord of the Scourge, was slain. Each hero looked at each other, standing over the corpse of one of the strongest foes they had ever faced. Tarial met their glances, nodded, and whispered.
“To Icecrown.”