World of Warcraft®

It was good that Neir had gotten him the information when she had; without it, he might not have made it here to this confrontation. Tonight would put an end to the rise of suffering in Duskwood over the past month. Jonathan walked into the clearing that the clues had led to with a scowl on his face, flanked by his grandfather, the Ebon Blade knight Lukaran Harmarth, and his Great Grandfather, the ancient wandering mage, Nicholas "Blazieth" Harmarth. Already, a line of six individuals was prepared and waiting for them. Naturally, his deranged father, the Forsaken Blazebringer Donovan Harmarth was positioned in the center. Directly to his left stood an Orc in black clothes, wearing a wolf mask, another orc in savage leather beside him, also in a wolf mask. Jon remembered these two. From the memory that Ronnad had helped him to recover, ages ago now. The Shadowblade Brothers, a pair of Orcish assassins. It had been difficult to dig up info on them, but they were there.

To Donovan's right stood the massive Tauren woman from the same memory. Beraine Shatterhorn. Black and red armor, mind-bogglingly enormous polearm, she hadn't changed at all since that day. And, Jonathan realized, She's probably the one who's been stirring up the local undead. Should have known that was her blade at work on the ones that were attacked. Beraine stared at Lukaran and sneered. Lukaran stared back.

"Our contest last time was cut short. Shall we see once and for all which of us is the superior of the Ebon Blade?" Lukaran pulled two greatswords off his back, one in each hand.

"I can't wait to put you back in the ground, old man." Beraine wasn't one to mince words, or be particularly subtle about her intentions. It still startled Jonathan to see a Tauren, a people he knew to be relatively peaceful, if fierce defenders of their people, being so bloodthirsty and aggressive.

To Beraine's side, Jonathan realized for the first time was a figure that seemed out of place. It didn't quite fit with the Orcs, Tauren, and undead that were present in that lineup alongside him. That was because this figure was a dwarf! Him and gramps seemed to be staring each other down. Blazieth spoke first.

"Sharidahn! All the time we travelled together, and now you stand alongside the man who would destroy everything I hold dear. I thought better of you, old friend." The old man's voice dripped with disappointment, and Jonathan swore that if he had any, Donovan would have just rolled his eyes.

"I owe Donny a thing'r two, an' I plan on payin' him back, even if it means mashin' ya, Nicky. Asides, he knows how ta use me hammers where they can have the most fun!" Sharidahn seemed especially enthusiastic about the last point. Blazieth didn't bother to respond, a mixture of sorrow and fury on his face.

From off to the side of the two orcs was a small figure who started laughing maniacally. "Man, I don't know how this deal could GET any sweeter! Huge payoff, AND I get to make you PAY, you crazy mutt! Make you PAY for what you did! To my friends, and ESPECIALLY what you did to ME, DO YOU HEAR ME, CRAZY DOG?!?"

Jonathan looked to the Goblin. Aside from the little greenskin's mad screams, he also wore a crazed expression, with sunken eyes, and wore gear that Jon realized was fairly standard around Booty Bay. Was this...? He frowned. "I think... yeah. You're one of the goblins I tested my fear toxin on, aren't you? No, not just any of them. You're the one that went wrong. I thought it was a failure. I thought it had gone beyond torment, and just outright broken you. And look at you, making a stand like this? Facing me willingly? I was wrong. I didn't break you. I desensitized you." That batch had gone worse than he thought. It had actually ended up backfiring on him.

The goblin let out a cruel chuckle. "Oh yeah, well you better get ready, cause I'm about to desensitise your FACE!" Jonathan shook his head and fixed his gaze on his father.

Donovan looked across the clearing that was soon to become a battlefield. "I see you got my message. I'm so glad all three of you came. It will save me so much time!" He and the orcish brother next to him suddenly turned, and began chanting and channeling as the others there moved to block any attempt to intervene. Jonathan stepped forward, but Blazieth placed his hand on Jonathan's arm, stopping him. "Yes, grandfather!" Donovan called out from where he and the Shadowblade warlock worked. "You're going to have a lot more issues than just me in just a moment!"

Jonathan's stomach formed a pit. Were they summoning in...? Even as the thought was starting to finish, he could see portals opening all around the clearing. A small army of mercenaries started to pour out of them all, Goblins, orcs, an assortment of different races.

Jonathan let out a sigh, and looked to his grandfather, Lukaran. "I was hoping it wouldn't come to this, Grampa. But... do you think you can do it?" The three of them had agreed that a trap was obvious, but they had to answer it. So, Lukaran had offered up a risky, difficult maneuver he could call on if the need arose. Jonathan knew, and could see that Lukaran agreed, that the need had now most certainly arisen.

"I'll get as many as I can, Jon. As many as I can." Lukaran closed his eyes, and gathered his strength, as he channeled the necromantic power of the Ebon Blade. "Soldiers! Protectors! Defenders of Stormwind past! Your home, your people are in peril! Those who would serve again, those who would fight! Heed my call! The Bladecaller calls to stand at our side!"

Jonathan marvelled at what happened next, even as he readied to deal with any interference from their side. He knew that Lukaran could never have done this on enemy soil. This was the true wonder of his Grandfather's unexpected mastery of the Ebon Blade's necromancy; ghostly figures rose out of the earth around them, throughout the clearing. Soldiers, each and every one of them. Soldiers of Stormwind, and not a single one enslaved to Lukaran's will or come unwillingly, but still bound by Lukaran's power. Their time would be limited, but from what Jon knew of the spell Lukaran had cast, each and every soldier that had answered his grandfather's call had done so of their own free will. Each and every ghostly soldier of the past here had heard the call to defend their home, their people, and said 'yes'. As the last of the figures rose, Lukaran breathed a sigh of relief. "I thank you, noble soldiers. With your aid, we will protect this land, and drive these enemies of Stormwind back."

Jonathan looked around. Even with his grandfather's reinforcements, they were still heavily outnumbered. But that didn't matter. The enemy had numbers. They had *him*. Not to mention Grampa Luke. If his father's big plan was an ambush, and a direct fight? Man, he was getting desperate.

There was a moment's silence as both groups prepared for what was to come. Then, chaos broke loose. Donovan's small mercenary army charged, while Lukaran's summoned allies braced themselves to defend, while others charged. Jonathan leapt into the fray, carving his way through the enemy ranks. A quick spray of a noxious poison dealt with one orc coming at him from the side, and he could see Lukaran and Beraine both carving paths through the chaos toward each other.

The Shadowblade brothers went into their element; the one wearing leather faded from sight while his elder brother began to take on translucent wings formed of demonic energy as he channeled dark power. Donovan and Blazieth engaged in a magical contest from opposite ends of the battlefield, while Sharidahn merely began swinging at anything that came within reach.

Wait. Where was the goblin?

A shout sounded from the edge of the clearing that sounded startlingly familiar to Jonathan as a large figure in black armor crashed into a small figure that had ended up behind Jonathan, knocking Chip Blastfuse for a loop. Jonathan turned around, incredulous. "Barosk?!"

Barosk Lovell smirked, and nodded to the Worgen. "C'mon, throwing a party and you didn't invite me? I'm insulted. I'm not alone, there are more on the way. Now focus on the battle! I've got this shorty." He readied his sword and shield as Jon smiled, and focused his mind.

Calling on one of his favorite moves, Jonathan teleported behind a nearby foe and struck. As he prepared to move on, another figure leapt overheard and hit the ground in the middle of the battle with a crash, knocking several figures to the ground in the process. A few swings of a sword, a slam of a shield, and it became clear the new arrival was just getting started. With a resounding howl, the no-longer-human-shaped figure grew into a large Worgen frame, and hurled his shield at a distant foe. Pulling two large swords off his back, Graelius Steelmane began carving through swaths of foes without a coherent word. That certainly helped even things up. Graelius was one of the few people Jonathan knew that he was outright unwilling to face in melee combat; he simply knew he wouldn't stand a chance.

Jonathan knew he was allowing himself to get distracted by the new arrivals. Sure, the enemy would as well, but that was all the more reason to focus; take advantage of their own distraction. Jonathan continued to move through the crowd. He could make out the voice of that Chip Blastfuse person yelling at Barosk in the background; evidently, he recognized him from Barosk's own days of terrorizing Booty Bay. Facing down a group of three, Jonathan's instincts screamed to duck, as a small volley of daggers flew past him, coming from behind him. It was a full second before Jonathan realized they were made of ice; and with Blazieth off somewhere in front of him engaging Donovan at range, who was...? Jon spared a glance behind him, to see none other than Suni Dahlmayar wielding a lance made of frost against a foe at close range. Impaling him, she nodded to Jonathan, and hurled it. Both Jonathan and Suni scowled as a shadowbolt hurled by the Orc warlock shattered it mid-flight. Throwing another one in his direction, she gave Jon another quick nod as both turned their attention back to the fight.

A shriek from above drew everyone's attention skyward at yet *another* arrival. A wind serpent from Pandaria passed over the battle as the newest arrival leapt from its back. The Pandaren figure carried a large staff. A serpent's head at one end, a paintbrush of all things at the other. Lynh Windsong was a Pandaria native, and another friend (though they hadn't started that way when they met during the Sha crisis in the Jade forest). As she fell to the ground, she wove her brush through the air, drawing a symbol into the air in front of her. Jon recognised this as how she generally cast her spells. Lynh however, was notoriously clumsy for a Pandaren. Slipping ever so slightly as she landed, he could see the symbol she was drawing suffer from the lapse in balance. However, a bolt of molten lava erupted from the flubbed sigil nonetheless, slamming home into one of Donovan's mercenaries. Lyhn let out a small squeak of surprise as a second bolt flew out to hit the unfortunate target behind the first. She looked around. "I... I meant to do that." She affirmed with a nod, and took on a more serious look as she entered the battle for real.

Jonathan, sensing another presence behind him, ducked as the figure leapt at him, only to overshoot. It was the neurotic goblin again, Chip. "Obsessive, aren't you?" He smirked.

Chip fumed. "You think imma let you off easy just cause yer old pirate buddy showed up?! NO WAY!" As the goblin surged forward, Jonathan found himself startled by his ferocity. If he wasn't careful, this little pipsqueak might actually land a fairly painful blow; that mace of his wasn't just for show, much though it seemed to be sometimes with many of the Goblins he'd killed in or near Booty Bay.

A scream from the edge of the clearing that had become a battlefield startled him, allowing Chip to land a painful blow to his left arm before being assaulted by Graelius. Turning to assess to scream, his eyes widened to see one of the orc assassin brothers standing over Suni's fallen form. Barosk was already charging him, and Lyhn was moving in to employ her healing magic to get Suni back on her feet. Slammed into a tree by Barosk, the assassin flashed a grin beneath his wolf mask and faded from sight once again, while Lynh worked to heal Suni. Barosk found himself approached by a new opponent. Brandishing both hammers, Sharidahn gave Barosk a grin. "Yeh'll do. Let's get mashin'!" Barosk simply shrugged, nodded, and engaged the Dwarf as Jon turned his attention away.

Clutching his now-hurt arm, he looked around to see a blur fading into focus behind his great grandfather. The assassin! "Gramps! Watch it!" Grabbing a handful of daggers out of his armor with his good arm, he hurled them in the direction of the assassin. He blinked as a small flash of white knocked all but one out of the air. It was enough to provide the elderly mage the moment he needed to deal with the assassin properly while still maintaining his defenses against Donovan's magic. That he was capable of both gave Jon a small swell of admiration of the old man. But what the hell was that? Looking to where the other knives had ended up, it looked like they were stuck to the ground by... web? Come to think of it, he still hadn't seen anything to explain the surge of spiders...

This thought was ripped rather violently from his mind by the sensation of an arrow piercing his flesh just below the left shoulder. A voice floated over the din of battle from a nearby tree. "Ooh, skewered dat one good an' proper, I did! Nice shot ta you too, Qweenie!" Ripping the arrow out, he let out a low growl and looked up into the tree to see a deranged-looking undead figure. He carried a crossbow, and wore light armor, while his mutilated face was quite literally being held together by a pair of leather straps. Beside him, clinging to the same tree, was a disturbingly massive spider. Beneath the fury boiling to the surface was a surge of revulsion as he stroked the thing affectionately. Realizing Jonathan was staring, he gave an overdramatic bow. "Garret Spinster's me name, and you c'n call me the Weblord, puppy-boy! Here, go' a present for ya!" Pulling out a small device, he hurled it at Jonathan. Jon extended his right arm to simply catch the thing out of the air.

That proved to be a mistake. The thing erupted in a massive, thick cloud of heavy, sticky spiderwebs that quickly engulfed the furious worgen, plastering him to the ground. Struggling with all his strength, Jonathan began to wonder whether he was covered in webs or concrete for all he was capable of moving. He could hear devilish giggles erupting from this new "Spinster" character. "Web-in-a-bomb, me ol' fav'rit!" He could barely glimpse the figure in the tree, while the battle raged around him. He could hear Graelius now clashing with Beraine, and no doubt several figures were making their way toward him, now. Hopefully a friend would get here first. He found himself struggling to even breath beneath this stuff; the fact that it was covering his muzzle wasn't helping. Again, the voice drifted over the chaos of the battle. "Ooh, I fink he mighta swallowed a bit! But don't you worry none, it's Eugene wot makes me poisoned webs, not Qweenie! Speakin' o' which, look out! Hehee!"

Aw, crap.

On the plus side, this pretty well confirmed where the sudden surge of spiders had come from at least. He tried to glance around and see if there was any glimpse of this "Eugene" that Spinster had mentioned, but a sharp, pained squeal relieved him of that particular threat. "Hold on Jonathan, I'm coming!" Sounded the booming voice of Lukaran, Jon's grandfather. Given the distance, Jonathan supposed he had probably thrown a spear or something at it; he certainly carried enough weapons on him.

The Weblord however, was audibly upset over the death of the spider. "EUGENE! YOU'RE GONNA PAY FO-" BANG. Garret's head flew back, and slowly rocked back forward, a rather large hole in the middle of his forehead, which he rubbed gingerly, as though it were a mere bump. "Ooh, I'm gonna feel dat one in da mornin..."

A female voice emanated from the hearthstones of Jonathan, and his allies. "Funny, I was going to make the same comment. Leave spiderboy here to me, boys and girls." Jonathan would have breathed a sigh of relief if he could. Things were looking better and better with every new arrival; with Ceiara around to provide sniper support (wherever she was), his own chances had just gone up.

"Tied up again? You are just a magnet for this sort of thing, aren't you? Don't worry, we'll get you out of there." Suni and Lynh had arrived, and set to work on (carefully) burning the webs off. As his mouth and nose came free, he gasped for air, and let out a few coughs to finish clearing out the foul stuff. He almost didn't notice yet another shrieking cry from above; if the rest of the battlefield had not gone suddenly silent, he might not have paid it any more heed. Looking around, he realized that everyone else had started looking up. Following their gaze, he realized why; they were staring at the descending Bronze Drake.

...Bronze Drake? Why was there a Bronze Drake arriving? Getting to his feet as soon as Lynh and Suni had finished freeing him enough to move, he got on his guard as Lukaran, Blazieth and Donovan all arrived.

Donovan looked up expectantly as the Drake descended toward them, while Blazieth's eyes widened, and he spoke first. "Eradormu?! What are you doing here?"

Eradormu looked to the elderly mage. "Since the first time I sought your aid in the timeways, this event has been long coming, Nicholas Harmarth." Those combatants that were still standing stepped back to clear room as the Bronze landed.

Donovan stepped forward, still staring at the drake. "What kept you, then? You were supposed to arrive sooner."

Eradormu looked about to comment, when Blazieth spoke up instead, looking wildly from Donovan to Eradormu and back again. "You knew he was coming? Eradormu, what is the meaning of this?!"

The drake sighed. "I helped to arrange this event only because it was dictated by the timeways." With those words, the Drake transformed, taking on his humanoid form, that of a High Elf. His gaze turned to Jon's father. "Donovan. There is a question that has burned in your mind as bright as the flames you wield. Ask. Ask it now, and let it be answered."

Donovan narrowed his gaze, and looked to Blazieth. "Why?"

"It is why you are here."

"I know why I'm here, dragon!" For a moment, Donovan looked incredulous, irritated beyond belief that this drake had set him up to ask a blasted question. But what question, Jonathan wondered? What question could be so important that a Bronze Drake would help his father set up an attack like this? "...I wasn't speaking to you."

what

Donovan returned his gaze to Blazieth. "Why did you leave?!" Leave? What? What was he talking about? "All those years ago. Goldshire. Stormwind. Me, father, and Jonathan. You left all of it behind. You abandoned us. All of us! You left, and when the war came, you weren't there when you were needed most. We died, all of us!"

Uhh, except me.

"You abandoned your family, and your home... and for what? You didn't just move away to Moonbrook, Redridge, or even into Dwarven lands. You went all the way to Brill! The other side of the damn world as we knew at the time! And then I learned on my own return that you'd created a home for yourself among the Forsaken. Then you went and abandoned that, too, and went back to the Alliance! Hid yourself behind an illusion of life, and crawled back to the very people who would destroy you if they had known what you are! WHY?!?" Jonathan was stunned at the unbridled fury in Donovan's voice, not simply because he was angry, or even entirely because of what he was saying, but because Jonathan could actually hear a small note of pain in his father's voice.

Blazieth's stoic expression shattered as Donovan spoke, recognition and sorrow drowing his face, and his illusion dropped. Where before had stood an ancient, elderly man, now stood one of the Forsaken, ravaged by the advanced age of the old man. "...I wasn't strong enough. That's why I left." Lukaran looked between Blazieth and Donovan, resting a hand briefly on his father's shoulder before taking a step toward Donovan. A quick glare and a flash of fire sent Lukaran back to Blazieth's side. "I wasn't strong enough to face my pain. I fled from it."

"From what?! You fled after Aran's death. You called him a friend, but he barely knew you existed, and everyone knew it! If that's the 'pain' you fled from, you're weaker than I ever imagined!"

The sorrow on Blazieth's face morphed to bewilderment. "Nielas? Y..you think I left because of Nielas? Of course not! It was Evelyn... the same event, yes, but it wasn't him, Donovan. It was your grandmother. My Evelyn... when young Medivh's power surged that night, when Aran gave his life to help contain it, one hundred clerics of Northshire Abbey worked with him. Evelyn was one of them. The strain was too much. She was among the eldest of the clerics still in service. She died only a week later, but what's wrong with you? You know all this!"

Donovan stared back blankly, a small note of surprise on his face. "...I didn't. I never knew. We hadn't spoken in years by that point. I thought she'd left with you." Blazieth, Lukaran, and Donovan all exchanged looks.

Lukaran spoke up, looking at Blazieth. "I thought you had told him, so I never mentioned it. I always tried to put up a strong face around my family, and not show my sorrow."

Donovan nodded. "Perhaps you hid it too well, father. I never noticed a thing."

Blazieth shook his head, and spoke once more. "You're right, though. I did abandon you, when I was needed most. The fact of it haunts me to this day, and will continue now, stronger than ever. Do you know why I wander, why I continue to travel without end? Left behind the very idea of having a home, or counting myself as one of a group, joining any sort of organization? It's not because I don't desire one, or need one... I don't deserve one. Twice now, I've established myself a home. Twice now, I've abandoned it all. I travel because I've shown it's all I can be trusted to do." Lukaran pulled his father into a comforting hug.

Jonathan stared in silence, taking in all that he'd just heard, while the words utterly shattered the image he'd always held of his gramps. He had always been the irrepressable wanderer, the cheerful (if occasionally grumpy) old man who simply couldn't sit still. The ever-burning wanderlust... but this? How much of what he'd just spoken went through his mind day after day? How much of what he thought he knew about Gramps was a lie?

A scream of rage erupted from Donovan, jarring Jonathan back to reality. "ENOUGH! These revelations change NOTHING. I brought you here to die today, my 'beloved family'," he spat. "And DIE YOU MOST CERTAINLY WILL!" He began concentrating his energies, preparing a large fireball. Even as Jonathan, Lukaran and Blazieth moved to recompose themselves, Eradormu himself stepped in, halting Donovan in his tracks.

"You will leave now, Donovan."

The fire-wielder seethed. "I will do no such thing!"

Eradormu's expression sharpened. "Your presence here, as well as my arrival, is about to attract every alliance soldier and adventurer from Moonbrook to Lakeshire to Stormwind itself; they're on their way here, now. The first of which, a group from Terra Incognita and Stormwind officials, will be arriving in two minutes. If you've any plans on leaving at all, you'll do it now, or do it in pieces."

Donovan scowled, even as the portals his small merc army had arrived in re-opened and his allies began to leave. "Till the next time we meet... my family." Donovan stepped through the final portal, the last one of his forces to leave. Blazieth reasserted his own illusory disguise with a glance to the others, then looked to Eradormu, who simply nodded to the old man, and teleported away in a short flash.

Jonathan fell to his knees, the weight of injuries and the emotional stresses of what had just occured finally crashing down on him.

---

((I'll leave this open for the guests who were present to comment, or people who want to arrive after the fact can show up for a bit of RP! And to Rhoest, sorry that I sorta kinda hijacked your Duskwood plot; BUT, I made sure to leave it open for you to continue it; Donovan's only pretending to be the cause of everything, after all! Also a thank you to those guest characters who allowed me to write you into this little event!

But yeah, this has delved really heavy into backstories. Yes, Blazieth's backstory involves an event with a dragon, and other crazy shenanigans, but I generally avoid bringing it up except for special occasions like this. Frankly, it's the sort of thing I'd have retconned away by now, but by the time I came to that opinion, it was too hard-wired into his canon through other characters of mine to change, so I decided to roll with it. And no, I do not RP as Eradormu. He's just a plot device for backstory and for this.

Oh, and uhh, don't feel obligated to show up at all if you don't want to, even though I did call out Terra; I was just thinking a bunch of generic no-namers when I threw that in))

As Dragoneir walked up on the scene of the fight after it had finished, she grabbed at her right side noticing her wounds have reopened. She cringed in pain but kept on looking over the crowd and noting the many people that have come, and the many that have fallen on the field. As she tried to find one person amongst the crowd, she dropped to her knee getting dizzy from the pain. All she could do was sit and watch from her distance and hope everything ended well.

She stayed and watched for a while, till she decided to hearth back to rest. She had to let the wound heal a bit to allow her to move again. But she ignored the pain as she always did for any injury.