**Blackluster**
After days of travelling, the small resistance had reached the deserts of Silithus. A barren wasteland of dried likes and perilous ridges was littered with rotting skeletons of giant beasts of a time long gone. Teraan and Merkava darted over a large sand dune out of sight as the warrior struggled to climb the cliff face. Hand by hand he pulled himself up the hill, every grip falling from him as sand dripped from his finger tips. A large horn could be heard blowing in the distance as Merkava arrived over the horizon, Blackluster looked up to him, pausing for a moment.
“Hurry up!” he shouted, “We need to see the prophet before the Horde catch us! They're right on our tail!”
Taking a deep breath, Blackluster persevered. Scaling the dunes and sliding down the other side. Hill after hill and an ocean of dust splintered his eyes as they trudged from the thick sand. Sweltering heats plucked his energy as the glowing sun burned above them. Every two steps he seemed to fall one more as the ground worked against his every effort, his focus split between Merkava's constant commands and the fear of the oncoming attack from the rear.
Just then, his grip wavered and the face of the cliff sauntered down causing Blackluster to drop rapidly towards the bottom. Looking below he saw the ground opening up, quicksand taking a hold as the plains themselves seem to separate. Desperately he scrambled to safety to no avail as only grains trickled through his hands.
Quickly, Teraan jumped after the bloodline. Skittering down the face of the sand dune he through caution out the window to save Blackluster. Upon reaching the plummeting warrior he sank his blade into the sand, sliding down near him to extend his other hand out. Reaching back up Blackluster managed to grab the paladins aid, swinging perilously over the sinking sands beneath.
As Teraan pulled him up and attempted to reach the top, he looked directly into Blackluster's eyes, “I see fear in you. Do not give in to it, I feel it too. But do not be scared, never give up, keep going through all the hardships. For you are blessed with a terrible burden. One that we cannot lift without sacrifice. But for all the sacrifices you make now, for all the suffering you endure and pain inflicted upon you protects the world from the same fate. Every step you take saves another life, every hurt you have saves a hundred others from a similar fate. It burns, it hurts, it attacks your very being. I know, Blackluster, I know. This quest, it is not about you, or me, or even the Angels and Demons that use us in their little game. No. It is about your friends, your family, all those you left at home. Anyone you know who right now lives under an iron fist, who lives in fear that every day may be their last and very way of life has been crushed. It is for them that we keep going. It is for them that we travel the world for a slim hope. That very morsel of a chance that just maybe, just somehow, we can pull them out of the darkness and into the light. Now, Blackluster son of Stray and guardian of humanity's might, rise with me!”
Blackluster then nodded back as the paladin helped him up. Reaching the crux, they saw Merkava had already began the descent towards yet another cliff. Blackluster sighed, before Teraan patted him on the shoulder and smiled with reassurance before jumping down himself.
As Blackluster fell behind again yet moved with conviction and slowly clambered to the top of what seemed like mountain, sand spiralling down his hands, he noticed the two paladins stood at the summit. Relieved, he crawled next to them and reached for his water pouch. Squeezing it dry in a vein attempt to rehydrate. Narrowing his gaze he scanned the horizons to see a wasteland of dust and desert, his eyes battered by a light sandstorm filtering through the air.
“It's beautiful.” remarked Merkava to Blackluster's surprise.
“I never....I thought it was but a myth. Well I'll be. The lost city of the angels.” replied Teraan.
Getting up the Stormwind knight looked over to their view, attempting to see what beauty they could possibly make out in such a place. Focusing his eyes he saw only sand, for miles he saw nothing but sand. In the air, on the ground and all around. Then, he saw it. Faintly over the dunes, hidden in plain sight. Giant golden blocks, a diamond in the rough cut by the desert itself. He couldn't quite make out the structures, but it seemed to sparkle in the sun, arches and stair ways , foundations for buildings long blown away. All the troubles seemed to leave and the air dropped deadly quiet as they gazed upon the ancient wonder.
“Enough time dithering, we need to move!” shouted Merkava breaking the solemn silence, before pushing Blackluster plummeting down the dune.
“What? No! Wait!” screamed the warrior, the two paladins simply looked at each other and laughed before jumping down themselves.
Upon reaching the bottom the two helped Blackluster up before continuing their journey into the heart of the desert to find the lost city of Ahn'Qiraj.
**Belendor**
“Faster!” yelled Belendor at his men as they trounced after the resistance.
MadPanda approached his leader, “Sir, the men are tired. We have crossed two continents and an ocean to get here. These harsh conditions are too much even for us, perhaps we should rest?”
Turning around Belendor appeared enraged, MadPanda took a step back from his captain. Fist gripping tightly as the dark paladin looked upon the small cohort accompanying him. Tutting at their lack of motivation he faced away.
“Rest? We are so close to a total victory.” he leaned down to pick up some sand, watching it disappear from his grip, “And yet our enemies filter through our hands like sand in my fingers. Every moment we waste, another grain leaves. And you want to rest!”
Throwing the sand down onto the ground he grabbed his glowing black and green sword, and angrily glared at his second in command. His breath had began to be heavy with his new found rage.
Cautiously, MadPanda nodded, “I will ready the troops to begin our march, and double our efforts.
“You better. And make that clown with the horn stop blowing it every ten minutes, we don't want them to know how close we are.” he then tightened his fist facing the trio in the distance, “How close we are to squashing their pathetic hope.”
As MadPanda approached the men, the horde troops lying down desperately searching for water amongst the supplies, their leader simply stared over the looping dunes. Suddenly they gasped in amazement as a streak of light sped across the sky. Pointing upwards the group watched as it trickled through the air before spiralling back down. Noticing the commotion, Belendor looked up and squinted his eyes.
“ANGEL! Take cover!” he yelled, reaching for his blade.
Hurriedly the soldiers gathered their supplies and weapons and readied for an attack. Worried, their eyes darted around the landscapes for the figure and to see if there were more. Belendor backed himself up to the small army, eyes fixated straight forward, sword and shield ready in hands.
There, on top of the last dune they saw the trio on, stood a solitary silhouette. Glaring at the Angel, Belendor gritted his teeth. Raising his sword in the air he roared with anger, the men behind him began clattering their shields. In response the figure ahead flexed its magnificent wings, growing from behind they rose into he air amplifying the Angel's presence.
As the soldiers began marching forward, the figure raised what appeared to be a staff into the air. Another step from the army and the figure slammed the staff into the dune. Around the area the ground shook, waves brushed along the turf as dust clouds drifted through the air.
Belendor turned to his men, the floor rumbling beneath them. Staggering left and right the Horde soldiers struggled to keep upright as the sand rocked up and down. He became increasingly frustrated at their lack of drive, the ambition that he shared. Thrusting himself forward he made his way to the Angel's position, looking up he saw the figure slam down once more. With every step he took, the wind blew stronger, dust particles struck him pushing against him. On he forced himself, into the every oncoming tide, and yet with every ground he made the power became more. Striking his body, clouding his vision as his hand covered his eyes. With one eye open he looked up to his enemy, robes dangling in the dusty wind, it then clapped its hand furiously. Suddenly he felt himself thrown backwards into his troops. Finally, the paladin gave in, his knees crumbled from the pressure and the sandstorm worsened.
He looked up in anger once more to see the figure fly into the distance. His army now grounded, Belendor prepared for the weather to subside.
**Merkava**
Eventually the trio reached the great gates of Ahn'Qiraj. Golden stones the size of any man built up from within the sand itself. Perfectly cut architecture, worn away by the harsh conditions of the Silthius desert. Passing under the archway they finally walked upon solid ground, small bricks paving the way through an abandoned garden of rubble. What was once lush greenery now lay in ruin, with fractured plant pots and dry fountains layered around. Venturing further they saw monolithic statues of angel figures, parts seemingly cut off from around them. Strangely, the sandstorm seemed to be unable to bypass the great walls of the structure despite its lack of integrity. Looking above, great mosaic images clouded the ceiling, depicting battles and events of long ago.
“What's that one?” asked Teraan, pointing to a great black mountain engulfed in flames and multiple opposing armies.
Merkava tuttered in response, “Typical Horde. That is the great battle of the Burning Steppes, between the armies of light against the army of darkness. The great war of the heavens. Do you know nothing?”
“Was simply a question, some of us do not have time to read books all day” remarked the horde paladin.
“And you call yourself a paladin!” mocked Merkava in response.
Before their bickering could continue, the three then came to a great wooden door, about ten times their own size. Two golden door knobs hung on either side, while the beams around it gleamed a similar golden glow. Merkava and Teraan tried in vein to pull it open.
“Pull harder damn it!” commanded Merkava towards his horde counterpart.
“Me?!” bellowed Teraan, “I am pulling a damn sight harder than you!”
Exhausted, the two stepped back for a moment. Blackluster then walked forward to the door, and to their surprise it creaked open slowly. The two paladins looked at the warrior, and then to each other. Nodding together, they reached for their swords and went in ahead of Blackluster to see a dark room.
Carefully they crept into the dark room, their shining swords the only source of light. Hesitantly Blackluster followed them, drawing his weapons he noticed the gems of his shield began to glow their bright blue.
Suddenly, the doors slammed shut as soon as Blackluster walked through them. Teraan immediately jumped to the door, slamming his fist on the wooden frame as it closed.
As he turned to the others, torches lit all around the chamber. Great fires upon large columns placed throughout the room paved the way towards a broken throne. In amazement the group gazed at the beauty, large pictures of the world's landscape cluttered the walls while tattered carpets of every colour dawned along the floor.
“Such a long journey you make, and yet to leave so early you try?” asked a voice echoing around the chamber.
As the paladins raised their swords, a figure materialised upon the throne dressed in white robes and carrying a withered staff. A long white beard came from within the hooded figure and yellow eyes glistened from the darkness of its face.
Shocked, the two paladins watched Blackluster dragged along the floor upright. His feet scraping along the stone ground, his face turning to each of them in distress as he passed. Pulled all the way to the throne he then stood motionless before the cloaked figure. Quickly Merkava and Teraan sprinted to his aid, taking his side they readied themselves.
The figure then lowered his hood to reveal a golden glow, wings popping up from his back and a smile within his beard. He stood up from the throne and descended down its steps to the powerless three.
“I assume you have come to see your fates. Time is a fickle thing as is destiny. At times everything is clear, and then a new path comes, a new star aligns. So tell me, travellers from afar that I have watched so keenly, what brings you to the ruins of my ancient home?”
Merkava then lowered his knee, the two others looking to him, “Apologies, I was unsure if it was really you. Great Doctor, prophet of the Angels, we are lost on a journey. We were told to come unto you, and so that you may guide us.”
Doctor began stroking his beard and looking upon the three, “And so you have run out of orders of which to carry out, and now wish for me to provide some more? The fabled free will of humanity at its finest!”
Abruptly Teraan then stood forward, “Look. What he's saying is we have come a bloody long way. Fought battles against I don't even know what to call them, been told about some ancient prophecy to save the world. And we have no idea where to go other than this run down old mess and to our certain doom amongst the dark warlocks of Lorderan. So really, old man, just tell us, what in Roel's name do we do next?”
In response the Angel placed his wooden staff on Teraan's forehead. A globe atop it began to glow a vivid white as the paladin began to shiver with chills.
“And who, might you be, so bold of a man yet so frightened?” asked the Angel, pressing his straff forward.
Attempting to intervene, Merkava mentioned, “He is the last descendant of Discarnate, child of the Angels. It was foretold we would need all three final bloodlines to succeed. He is the last us his line-”
Ignoring Merkava, Doctor continued, “So wanting to lead your people, to save them....yes.... But. Ah. There is a girl, yes...a girl. Lost to you, lost to the world. So sad. Who do you wish to save....So my questions...Where do you go? Revenge ah you want revenge! But then...your fault? No...maybe? Yes I think so. Such burdens for such small shoulders...” suddenly he then snapped away from Teraan and pointed to Merkava, “You! Yes...you. The one who carries himself with such importance. What did you say?”
Merkava then began to reply before being cut off once more.
“Ssssh...ssh ssh.” spoke the Angel, “Merkava of Stormwind, ah yes. You said that this paladin before me is the bloodline, descendant of Discarnate. Ah, Discarnate yes...Wrong.”
Doctor then turned from the three, retracting his staff and sat down and stroked his beard some more. Teraan took a moment to recompose himself, while Merkava stepped forward.
“Sorry, wrong? What do you mean wrong?” he asked.
“Wrong.” replied Doctor.
“Ok but what does that mean? He's not the blood line? He must be!”
“Wrong.” Doctor repeated.
“What! Then why is he here! What use is he then!” Merkava angrily said.
“Calm yourself!” demanded Teraan, slightly relieved, “Ok, if I'm not, who is then?”
Swirling his staff once more, Doctor looked into the globe, “The one you seek, locked away within the confines of darkness by the one they call Gorecleave. Lost to you...yes, lost to you long ago.”
“Can't you just tell us?!” demanded Merkava growing impatient at the riddles.
“Wait...” said Teraan, “Locked way? A leader of the Horde? That's what you said, right? It must be Virdo, the nights before our Guardian was killed I went looking for him. And it was Gorecleave who kidnapped him, I remember. That means he's alive! Virdo's alive! He is the true leader of our people!”
Doctor smiled, “Yes, the one known as Virdo lives.”
Teraan began to smile, “That's it then! Virdo is the last bloodline! But how do we get to him?”
Returning to his segment, the Angel continued, “So much rushing. Your race never takes time to just think and enjoy the moment. The prophecy that has been foreseen tells that the blood of the three must be put forward to summon the saviour forth. Within the halls of Exodar, you must go and a drip from each hero will bring forth the original bloodlines back from beyond. And from then you can begin your journey to redemption of your race. You...yes, you Teraan. You may not carry the blood within your veins, but around your neck you hold a treasure so precious.”
Blackluster sighed greatly, “So you just need my blood? Thank Roel! I can stay here, or, somewhere, not here” he then looked around, “But somewhere out of danger! Ok, that's good!”
“You're coming with us.” replied Merkava sternly.
“But, the old guy said you ju-” he protested.
“You're coming with us.” demanded the paladin once more.
Meanwhile, Teraan was twiddling with the ruby necklace and suddenly noticed Doctor place his staff in front of Blackluster. A white flash of light fluttered before them, blinding momentarily. When his vision return, he noticed Blackluster dropping the ground and quickly rushed to catch him.
The Angel then sat back down upon his chair and rested his head upon his hands. Yawning momentarily his eyes closes as if he was about to sleep. The two paladins looked at each other, unaware of what just happened before looking back at the sleeping Angel.
“Doctor?” asked Merkava attempting to wake him.
Doctor opened one eye, his mouth moved up and down slightly before he simply replied back “Hm?”
Motioning back to the knocked out Blackluster, Merkava attempted to bring the conversation back around. Doctor's eye looked down to the warrior before back to Merkava. Suddenly his eyes shot open fully.
“Ah yes. Of course. You wish to know why he sleeps.” mumbled the Angel.
“Yes, what is so important that it must kept from the ears of the fool?” mocked Merkava as Teraan gently lowered Blackluster to the ground.
“Prophecies...such complicated things. The last part that completes the end of days.” he told them, starting to walk down the steps of the throne.
“So tell us it?” persisted Teraan.
Doctor complied, “The original prophecy goes as so. The first must die so that the bloods can run, the second must die to save the last, and the last must die to save us all.”
“How does he die?” asked Teraan quickly.
Doctor simply shook his head in response, “But he cannot know his fate”
“A man has a right to know his own death. This is a death sentence that he does not deserve!” he protested.
“It is the will of the gods.” replied Merkava, nodding back to Doctor.
“It is the will of something greater than even us...a prophecy so old I don't quite remember who said it” retorted Merkava.
“So, we might be walking into doom for no reason, and he may give his life for a broken promise from some long dead people. And it may not even be the right time! Great. Just great” argued Teraan, waving his hands around.
Doctor suddenly slammed his staff on the ground sending shock waves throughout, waking even Blackluster up. Stunned, Teraan and Merkava both looked up to the Angel whose wings had now grown beyond his robes. A quick change of tone gave Doctor a dominating prescence.
“Look around you!” he bellowed, his voice echoing around the chamber and seemingly in their heads, “My people are gone, our civilization in ruin. Angel kind are not long for this world, the prophecy is now and you are the ones to fulfil it. Now go!”
Blackluster started to rise to his feet, rubbing his head while Merkava simply bowed. Teraan thought for a moment, before then asking.
“Ok, great. So shouting at me seems to have convinced me of that. But how do we get out? There's an army of horde soldiers waiting outside, and unless you're going to go fight them, I'm certain we can't. Not to mention the desert out there is only getting worse. We may not survive the night.”
Within the last utterance, a great crash could be heard above them. Dust shook off the ceiling as the sound of padding thundered through the halls. Doctor then threw a silver ring towards Teraan.
“A dragon rider's ring. It allows you to ride the mount of an Angel, now go” he motioned towards a small exit door behind him, “I have another visitor, now go!”
Doctor then slumped back into his chair returning to his rest. Yawning as his eyes closed, his staff vanished from his grip and the lights of the chamber went out.
Teraan put the ring on, red dragon wings were inscribed within the silver. The three then left the chamber and sprinted up a stone spiral staircase. As they reached the top of the building, the horrid conditions forced them to cover their eyes. A great white dragon waited for them expectantly, and as the three climbed on it took off.
“Where is this thing taking us?” asked Blackluster, clinging on desperately as it soared greater heights.
“Lorderan” answered Merkava, “Where else but to see the daughter of Bluebell?”
Soaring higher into the air the trio began to leave the dense weather to ascend into the clouds.
Looking down through the sandstorm they strained to see a stream of Horde banners entering the city of the Angels. Doctor's second visitor had arrived.