Emergence
Two Weeks Ago:
It took Gerald weeks to get into the territory of the Kingdom of Stormwind. Many times he stopped at towns along the way to catch up with those he met on his two year pilgrimage. He learned how the Fourth War ended, the fall of Azshara, and even the vanquishing of the final Old God. True, he heard rumors while on the road, but the fact that so much had happened in the two years he was gone had baffled him.
Finally, after a heated trip through the Burning Steppes, the pleasant woodland of Redridge came to greet him, but not all was as it seemed. Refugees huddled in the cliff faces, away from prying eyes, hiding whenever they heard movement from below. As he continued on, the Stormwind Guard and a few brave members of a makeshift militia let him pass over the bridge, all while keeping an eye on the hills.
Gerald sped his steed forward, and as he neared the borders of Elwynn, the sounds of battle came to him. The watch tower stood besieged by ghoulish undead, staggering in from the surrounding areas. He wanted to jump in, to help the guard fight of the mob of undead, but he couldn’t bring himself to near the hordes. He gripped the bridle tightly, trying desperately to make a move, any move.
Flashes of the destruction of Easterly assaulted him. The streaming dead, the screams of families, those he could not save. Was this the plague of Easterly, spread to his home? No, it couldn’t have come this far, and the stench of magic was absent from the air. This was a different occurrence. Why have the dead risen again? Gerald gripped his spellblade and drew it from it’s sheath. The runes that danced down the blade glowed a sickening purple.
“Stick close, Gunther.” He mumbled to the child behind him, who he felt grasp firmly onto his cloak.
He spurred his steed forward, charging at the barricades. “Dark rider, four o’clock, charging quickly!” He heard the guards cry out.
He slashed the air with his sword, whispering incantations. From the blade, gouts of flame lashed out at the dead, alighting some, driving back others. The smell of burning dead filled his nostrils and his mind, as it fought to take him back to the dark place he had been running from for years. He stayed though, slinging fire and shadow from atop his steed at the rampaging ghouls that fought to overtake this choke point.
There was a reprieve, a stalling of forces for what were maybe precious few minutes. “What happened here?” Gerald called out.
“No fucking idea. Normal day, then they just...were here. Like they rose from under our feet. I heard it’s worse in Goldshire and Stormwind itself. I couldn’t imagine the dead that roam the streets there. I even hear that the Crusade has been brought in to help.”
The shdaowmancer took a deep intake of breath, steeling himself. “I have to leave you all now, I may still have family in Stormwind. I hope tha--”
“Save it,” A young guard spoke up, “We know what we signed up for. Go make sure your family is safe.”
He paused, and nodded. He spurred his horse down the idyllic forests of Elwynn, where if you didn’t look hard enough, you would think that all was at peace. Goldshire, being so close to Stormwind, was holding it’s own though tentatively. He had to fight to get to the gates of Stormwind, where a vanguard of stalwart iron-clad guards were letting in survivors, and keeping the dead at bay.
Gerald entered, and all seemed peaceful. There was a woman arguing with a stoic guard who paid her no heed. “What if they’re infected? There’s already a plague in the city, we don’t need it spreading more! Leave them out there, please! I have a family I don’t want getting sick!”
Gerald heard enough and turned from the vanguard. He hadn’t talked to his family for nearly two years. Were they still in the city? Had something happened to them? He could only hope they were safe as he came in to find them.
