Battle on the Crimson Throne
A slight smile rose to Osran’s face as he opened one of the large crates. It wasn’t often that any supplies were successfully brought into the Bastion, especially anything more than mere food. The paladin was beyond happy with the surprisingly steady supply of bread and water from the couriers but now his eyes fell upon something he had waited for for days. The sight of ten new chestplates met his eyes which were worth more than gold to the knights in this situation. His own plates had only been moderately battered but there were some knights whose entire armor had been practically beaten to pieces. He heard another voice from next to him speak to him in a rather excited voice.
“This is just what I needed! With this, those damned undead won’t stand a chance invading these sacred halls for a long, long time!” The man’s face turned into an expectant grin as he took some mechanical gadgets and a handful of black powder from another crate. Osran nodded at him approvingly, knowing just how very much that meant to Cannon Master Willey.
“It’s good that they managed to sneak those in as well. It has been a chore keeping the peace without your help.” He said rather dryly, the larger situation still forcing his mood down, The attacks from the undead seemed to only be growing more and more frequent and one by one, the elite forces of the Grand Crusader fell upon their onslaught. Willey gave a deep snort as he turned to Osran, looking at him in slight annoyance.
“I can see that full well, Lowriver. It was because of your inability to keep the intruders out that I had to spend hours on end trying to fish further information out of another servant of the Lich King. It was far from fun as those cursed death knights don’t seem to feel any real pain! At least, I can now get back to doing what I do best instead of being forced to clean up yours and the others’ failures!” He said half-jokingly, his tone signaling he wasn’t quite as hostile as his words would have implied. Osran nodded at him somewhat wearily, not in the mood for any half-hearted joking at this point. He had hardly slept for days as either his duties or the incoming attacks took most of his time. He waited for a few moments before answering as he put his new armor on him, more than happy to realize that it fit him perfectly. He then turned to the Cannon Master and spoke to him rather silently.
“Then, I hope you’ll finally be of any use yourself! But in all honesty, try to get your cannons all fixed and ready as soon as possible. We must be as ready as possible at all times for the enemy’s attack and you are an integral part of our defense.” He said, feeling anxious knowing that the Bastion’s defenses were far from ideal. Willey knew the truth in his fellow Crimson Legionary’s words, having grown to respect the no-nonsense and extremely dutiful paladin during their days together here at the Bastion. His help and leadership on Dathrohan’s side had been invaluable in keeping the enemy at bay.
“I know, Lowriver. And don’t worry, I’ll soon be ready to save your hides again if need be. Let us just hope that Tyr’s Hand will survive the latest loss. In any case, get the message going as soon as you can and I’ll do my part. See you sometime later.” He said, more than eager to begin fixing his weapons. Osran nodded to him, the latest news from the other city also forming a grip of fear into his heart. The news of Demetria’s death had hit him hard as he knew just how instrumental the so-called Scarlet Oracle had been in foreseeing and countering each and every attack on that massive citadel of the Crusade. He slowly took his already-written letter from his pocket, taking a look at it as he moved to head towards the gates of the Bastion to relay his message to the courier who had managed to deliver all these supplies with massive risk to himself. He would deserve the highest acknowledgments of his bravery in the coming days.
The knight eyed the completely expressionless faces of his comrades as he passed them, the crushing mood of the fortress more than clear to anyone. In many ways, Osran preferred to work on nights these days as at least then, he could avoid encountering this sickening feeling of despair and fear that had fallen upon most of the other crusaders. All of them seemed to know they were fighting a losing battle in the long run and inside, Osran knew himself there was no conceivable way even he would be alive anymore in a few weeks. Nearly every fourth defender of the Bastion had fallen in the past days and more followed them each day.
Still, for some reason, the paladin simply didn’t allow himself join them in their reaction to the inevitable. He didn’t want see this defense as something out of a bad dream or as the end of it all: rather, it was the final chapter of this journey of legend and a fitting message to all who would come after the Crusade. Osran hardly yearned to fall here but if it were to be his fate, then he’d face it like an old friend instead of the inescapable monster his comrades seemed to deem it as. Osran breathed heavily, trying to ignore his worsening aches when he opened one small door leading to a side office, his eyes falling upon a younger man. Osran nodded heavily as he started to speak.
“Here are the orders you have to deliver to Tyr’s Hand, courier. Your bravery was a major relief to all of us as things started to become difficult out here without any supplies. I’m sorry we cannot reward you now but I promise with my honor, the next time you return here, the Grand Crusader will provide you with honors like which you only dreamt before.” Osran said, knowing how important it was to reward good deeds of your comrades whenever they deserved it. The courier frowned somewhat as he looked at Osran, his voice sounding even confrontational.
“Next time? Crimson Legionary Lowriver, you know as well as I do that there may never be “next time”! It was through pure luck I even managed to get these supplies in and what will I get in return? Mere empty promises of a day that may never come!” He said as he raised to a standing position, causing Osran to shook his head slightly. He then walked further towards the other man and lowered his voice noticeably.
“Then, any hopes of riches and honor are even more foolish, don’t you think? Do you think I am here because I want to achieve anything more in my life? If you took even a moment to look around you, you’d realize that none of us expects to leave this place. No, this will almost certainly be our last stand.” He said in a surprisingly consoling voice, not seeing any real reason to silence the messenger even if it was well within his power. The younger man looked at Osran’s bearded, weary face as he answered to him in a much deeper voice, his face communicating his confusion.
“Then why are you here? There is still much more to defend out there! We cannot afford to lose any more men here just because you and the others are too proud to leave!” He said, his earlier thoughts completely gone from his mind. The Crimson Legionary narrowed his eyes as he took a moment to look at a small, struggling candle on a table near him, preparing to give his answer as clearly as he simply could. Then, he finally turned back at the younger man and sat down near him, speaking in an almost fatherly voice.
“Believe me, I would have asked the same question as you once. I used to once believe we stood a real chance to be able to see our beloved kingdom reborn during our lifetimes but you see, we simply don’t have that privilege anymore. We lost the war in this city two years ago after which our fate dawned upon each of us. However, it still isn’t a defeat. Not completely.
The Light still watches over us and we still fight for its glory. If we fulfill our fate here, we will have a chance to become a part of its glory and in that way, we will guide all those who come after us on their way to fulfill the goal we never could. We will live forever within the Light as the living symbols of its love upon all paladins and by extension, to our kingdom. You might still not see it in this Light but inside, I know our sacrifice will not be for nothing.” He said calmly, once again thinking of the grace the Light had provided him with the day he had become a paladin. That was a glory not even death could take away from him.
The courier looked at the paladin with an unmoving face, not really knowing what to say. He had known that the Crusade’s situation was dire but to hear one of the highest-ranked knights surrender this willingly to his death… what was wrong with him? A distinct anger and confusion arose within him as he answered to the other man.
“Except that you don’t have to give that sacrifice, Lowriver! None of you do! You know as well as I do that the Bastion is not the only place the Crusade still has! Your powers are still needed elsewhere!” He cried, causing Osran’s face to finally take a more resolute expression. He was slowly growing impatient with the younger crusader’s antics but he still deserved a proper answer.
“As I said, I believe we will leave a far more precious legacy to our home by defending its house of holiness as long as we simply can. In fact, I trust our deeds will have a chance to draw all of Lordaeron closer to the Light, thus opening a new way for the eventual defeat of the Scourge. I never expected you to understand but I know we’re doing the best thing we can in our situation. We will fall here in order to live forever within the Light.” The Crimson Legionary said, expecting another rebuke from the messenger and for a few moments, it seemed like another one really was coming.
However, after a few seconds his face suddenly softened and he shook his head in clear disapproval but still, he knew inside that he had no way to speak any of the highest-ranking leaders of the order away from their plans. He merely sighed deeply and offered his hand and nodded at Osran’s letter. The paladin locked eyes with the courier and nodded back, as if to affirm a mutual bond of acceptance and respect with the younger man. He then gave the letter in his hand to him without further words. It was then that the courier put the message into his bag and walked towards the door and spoke to the Crimson Legionary.
“Well, in that case, I think all I can do is to hope for all the best to each of you. I will return to Tyr’s Hand and pray the Bastion still stands when I next find a chance to return here.” He said glumly, glancing at Osran wearily. The bearded paladin followed him as he answered, speaking the only words he could at this point.
“So do I. But if it isn’t, please don’t tell the others what I told you. I want that knowledge to be relayed only through the grace of the Light.” He said as the courier mounted his steed which was hidden in another room of the Bastion which had been turned into a temporary stable. The younger man gave a brief sigh as he rode towards the gates which were slowly being opened by the guards who looked at the approaching rider and his armored horse. He stopped briefly at the corridor before turning back to Osran one last time.
“Very well, Lowriver. I’ll do as you say even if I do it against my better judgement. May the Light watch over every one of you.” The courier said as he commanded his steed into a gallop, knowing full well how important it was to leave Stratholme as fast as he simply could. Osran frowned as he looked at the misty day outside, looking as the courier’s form grew dim even before he entered any of the many streets.
The sun was completely blocked by the thick clouds and the day was even surprisingly cold, even in the standards of these plagued lands. In many ways, it was a perfect metaphor to the struggle of the knights when the coldness tried to flush out the relative warmth of the Bastion. Osran savored even this brief moment to watch at the ruined city as opposed to the never-ending gloom that lingered within his comrades. After a few moments, one of the guards spoke firmly to the paladin.
“Get back inside Lowriver. You know very well that we can’t afford to give the Scourge any chance to surprise us.” He said uncompromisingly but at first, Osran showed no signs that he had listened to the command. However, soon he turned around and answered to the guard.
“Indeed. Close the gates and inform us in case anyone wants inside, as always. You know the orders.” He said absentmindedly as he entered the castle again, turning to look at the courier’s slowly disappearing form once more. He was but a distant shadow and Osran was just about to turn his gaze back to the dark corridor before him until something happened that caught his attention completely. Among the mist flashed a bolt of blue, as if it were a shooting star in a clear night. That flash was followed by a loud scream whose source was all too clear to Osran. Yet, the knight knew better than to let that fact prevent him from concentrating his mind to what was happening. He raised his hand and spoke to his comrades.
“Wait for a moment. Don’t move.” He said as the closing of the gates stopped. For a few moments, everything was silent, the only sound reaching the Crimson Legionary’s ears being his own breathing and the cracking of the flames in the houses around him. He was almost preparing to go get others to help him investigate what had happened when his eyes caught the sight of something that made his blood run cold. A group of forms started to form within the mist, among them humans, dwarves and some cursed elves! Osran could immediately tell one of them to be a paladin but the others seemed to be a mage, a hunter… and…
The sight of the next enemy made Osran’s mind turn into a rightful rage like few others that he could remember. Among them walked a massive felguard, identical to those who had ravaged Azeroth during the War! Had the outsiders truly fallen low enough to recruit those crazy servants of evil into their ranks? However, none of that mattered now. He suddenly grabbed his horn and before he blew it, he cried to the guards.
“Close the damned gate and reinforce it with anything you can find! Time is off the essence!” He cried as he blew his horn which rang through the halls like a maddened animal. It was a call whose meaning was known every knight within the Bastion: they were under serious attack. Immediately, the corridors started to get swarmed by knights of the Scarlet Crusade, each of them knowing that one of their comrades wouldn’t call them without an urgent reason. Osran lowered a massive stave to lock the gates further himself, nodding in approval as the guards started to pile whatever they could to delay the enemy’s breakthrough. Already, archers were starting to rain death down on the enemy, buying the Crusade some early relief. Osran smiled slightly as he heard an alarmed call behind him.
“What is it, Lowriver? What in the name of sanity is happening?” Malor cried as he and a dozen other heavily-built knights stopped near the aging paladin. Osran was relieved by the speed of his comrades and he immediately started to give his answer.
“A group of enemies, apparently from the Alliance, are marching upon us! I’m not sure how many there are but…” At this moment, Osran nearly fell as the entire floor was shaken by a gigantic bolt of magic against the gates. Immediately, the Crimson Legionary turned around and looked in astonishment as a gaping whole appeared where the center of the gate had been a few seconds ago. And even worse, he could soon see a massive axe appear from the hole which cut the stave and the locks holding the gate shut into pieces. Osran moved to Malor’s side as the two parts of the structure fell into the floor, opening the way for the enemy in. The latter cried quickly to Osran as he prepared for the battle.
“Demons? What in the name of all that is good is going on here?” Malor cried as he did what every paladin in his place would have done. He concentrated everything in his power to cleanse the foe’s unholy essence with purifying Light, hoping to end its destructive existence here and for all. However, it was then that he felt his spell fail, instead knocking him back slightly. Malor cursed as he realized that he had just been hit by some cowardly counterspell which meant that using any kind of magic just became progressively more difficult. Yet, that mattered little to the knight who hadn’t heard his title for nothing.
Two dozen crusaders stopped on his sides, ready to told the line to their last breath. Each of them moved to block the corridor as a small group of heavily-built fighters rushed into the fortress, not wasting any time before engaging the defenders in a fierce battle. Osran felt like his hand would be torn away from his shoulders as the powerful dwarf hit him with all his power, telling the paladin that even with his mastery of the sword, it was still a difficult struggle to beat this foe. There was no question that this foe was from Dun Morogh as Osran had fought alongside them more times than he cared to remember.
The knight attempted to mount a counterattack on the shorter combatant and for a short moment, he was confident he would be successful. However, just as he was about to hit the dwarf’s chest with his blade, he felt as if his body was being torn to pieces, streams of blood suddenly pouring of his body. He looked in horror as he saw a mage mastering her arcane spells, most likely having hit Osran with one of her spells. The paladin felt life returning to his battered torso as a priest restored his health shortly but it was only after that that the paladin’s worst fears were realized.
Suddenly, there started to rain balls of azure power into the corridor that his the crusaders with sickening power. That, coupled with the floor that was quickly turning into fire caused many members of the Crusade fall into the ground screaming terribly. Malor gritted his teeth as he concentrated his own powers in guarding himself from the brute damage, something that his comrades struggled to do as well. Still, the situation was growing highly desperate which everybody understood perfectly. Apparently, this was to be their final battle they had waited for all this time…
“Get out of the way unless you want to fall with these Light-forsaken fiends! Alright, go!” That cry came as a complete surprise to many of the knights but driven by some instinct, nearly all of them did as they were told. Those few who were too slow-witted to comply would soon meet their sickening fates as their backs and intestines would be crushed to oblivion by incoming cannonballs, a similar fate befalling some of the attacks. Osran frowned as he saw entrails from both the enemies and the crusaders paint the entire hall red, noticeable bits of flesh also landing on his chestplate. He glanced at Willey and his team who had brought the cannons into the corridor while the battle raged, able to launch a surprise a surprise attack on the attackers. However, the immediate after math of that surprising turn of events was followed by a desperate attempt by both sides to recover their positions before they’d lose any more ground to the enemy.
Malor cringed his teeth as he recovered his footing, never too fond of any additional weapons in addition to his faithful sword and his own mastery of the Light. However, right now, he welcomed that intervention wholeheartedly and he was more than ready to continue the struggle wholeheartedly. Yet, soon he felt something that took him completely by surprise. He felt a terrifying shiver creep up his body and his legs no longer seemed to work at all. He looked at them in shock, gasping audibly as he saw that they were completely frozen by a mage’s spell. That realization stunned him for a few precious moments, almost long enough for one of the warriors to crush his body with a swing of a massive axe and only barely, he managed to parry the incoming hit with his own weapon. He then heard the dwarf’s voice speak to him as he prepared for another attack.
“This will be the day ye and yer cursed Crusade are going down, lad! For too long have you defame Lordaeron and the Alliance’s name!” He cried but before he could land his next attack, Malor quickly hit him with a quick judgement that interrupted his foe’s attack before answering.
“Never mention Lordaeron to me again, dwarf! Each of us have given our whole lives to defend it against the likes of your so-called Alliance! To think you’re helping the Scourge like this while also inviting warlocks into your ranks… You are no better than Archimonde and I’ll make sure you’ll meet the same fate!” Malor cried as he kicked his opponent before attempting to finish the fight with a counterattack of his own. However, it was at that moment that the dwarf bowed before his opponent… revealing a bolt of frost that hit the paladin less than a second later.
Malor fell into the ground and before he could do anything more, the dwarf’s axe crushed his armor, sinking deep into his chest, ending that painful struggle once and for all. As the paladin stared at the ceiling with his last moments, the dwarf spoke to him briefly before engaging the others in a fight.
“The Alliance will welcome any who wishes tae fight four our common cause, something which the Crusade forgot a long time ago, lad. But know that we will bring tae Lich King down after we’ve purged this city. I just wished you would have helped us in it.” He said, earning an extremely weak look of anger from Malor before the knight returned to his
original position for the last time, letting out a weak whimper before his life was ended once and for all.
“Take cover!” The cry was heard again and this time, the knights of the Crusade did as they were told faster than the first time but so did the fighters of the Alliance. The barrage caught one knight of the Crusade and one of the attackers and Osran knew it wasn’t enough to win the fight like this. The Crimson Legionary glanced around him, noticing Malor’s death immediately. A look of regret appeared on his face as he realized that one of the strongest paladins in the Bastion had met his end and immediately, he realized it couldn’t go on like this. He immediately cried to those still fighting on, hoping to get them away from this hell as soon as possible.
“Fall back towards the Cannon Master! We have to take new defensive positions!” He cried, thinking of the smaller doorways deeper within the Bastion which were likely manned by the trusted elite guards of the Grand Crusader. Inside, Osran knew it was his duty to protect his lord under the very end with his own life but still, he had hoped that the master of the order would have stood with his knights from the very beginning. At least, that was what the Dathrohan of old would have done.
The knight cringed as he countered another blue, star-like bolt from the druid who had taken the form of some kind of massive walking bird, especially her powers worrying him greatly. During all his years, he had never fought against a druid before but he had heard that their powers were extremely potent and deadly to those who didn’t know what they were capable off. Yet, most of the surviving knights managed to fall back in a rather orderly manner even if it was sickeningly clear to the aging paladin that he and his comrades had no way of ever mounting a counterattack against the attackers. Right now, all he could ever hope for was to believe for a miracle and trust in some way that the tide of the battle could still be reversed.
The retreat of his comrades caused Willey to curse deeply inside and greatly regret Osran’s command. He had hoped that he and his team could take out the attackers one by one but inside, he knew that the other Crimson Legionary’s order was also more than understandable. After all, they couldn’t simply rely on his cannons to fight back this most vicious of enemies. Willey could see that there wasn’t more than two dozen attackers but each of them fought with viciousness and courage he had rarely seen. But considering that this “courage” served only the Lich King, it earned nothing more than disgust and loathing from the Cannon Master. His lips turned into a slight smile as he aimed his cannon towards the warlock, doing something that he knew he would never be forgiven but if this was his last battle, then that mattered little.
He stood still without a muscle in his face twitching as his cannon let out another roar as it launched another of its balls into the fighting crowd. Inside, he lamented as he saw two of his comrades being blown to pieces by his weapon but those thoughts were put aside as he saw it also pierce through the warlock, ending his battle as well. Many eyes turned to him in shock as they realized what had happened but no sign of remorse came from Willey. Rather, he let out a deep sigh as the realized he simply had no time to recharge the cannon anymore as the pace with which the enemies advanced seemed to only grow faster. In order to continue his fight, he slowly drew a massive gun from his belt and loaded it carefully before he raised it against the charging druid and spoke to him in a low, hateful voice.
“Tell my greetings to Arthas when he joins you in hell, bastard!” He said as he pulled the trigger, his entire body pushed back as the launch forced him back. However, as he recovered from the impact, he saw something that made him even more enraged than before. One of the enemy paladins had shielded him from the impact, making a mockery of his self-made gun. The Cannon Master cried to his assistants as he started reloading his favorite weapon.
“Destroy the cannons before helping the others to hold the line! If you get overwhelmed, retreat into the Hall of Lights!” He cried as he lighted the pile of explosives under his own cannon, quickly moving away from it. Now, he’d have to teach these bastards a lesson they wouldn’t forget easily…
The escalating situation awakened something within Osran had seldom experienced lately: disgust. If there was one thing he hadn’t partaken yet, it was killing one’s own comrades. To see Willey shooting his own allies this readily was something which made Osran’s mental anguish even worse but even then, there was nothing he could do about it now. He cursed as he felt a storm of snow fall down upon him, making any movement a struggle. He then glanced at the door leading into the Hall of Lights, the main part of the citadel and noticed that another line of defense was being prepared there. The archers had been brought down from the roof of the Bastion to protect it from these invaders.
After Osran saw his blade sink into the elf’s abdomen, he was about to declare himself victorious in his fight against his opponent. However, he was seriously taken aback when he saw that it had caused no real damage to his foe. He immediately pulled his blade back and even quicker than his eye could see, he hit the elf again, this time hoping to cause a long, gaping wound that would bleed him dry. However, yet again, that would didn’t seem to make a dent upon the dark-blue colored male which made Osran even more alarmed than before? What was going on? It was as if the wounds were healed before they were even dealt but such a thing was impossible…
Suddenly, he caught the sight of something that made him twitch noticeable. Behind the first attackers stood a robed figure, who Osran knew could be no other than a priest. But… no priest was strong enough to heal that quickly and effectively! He had witnessed the training and actions of dozens if not hundreds of them and none could cast that effective healing! What in the name of the Grand Crusader were these intruders? The paladin’s eyes widened in ever-growing fear as he called to his comrades in an alarmed voice.
“Fall back into the Hall of Lights, everyone! Only there will we able to beat these bastards back!” He cried, praying in his mind that there was even a flicker of truth in his own words. However, he was soon interrupted by another voice that made him frown deeply.
“Don’t listen to this coward, the chosen ones of the Grand Crusader! Take your stand here proudly and face whatever comes with your honor intact!” Willey cried as he launched his massive gun again, taking another one of the enemies out with his firm aim. The song of battle and of honorable death radiated from him as he prepared for his final melee. The cannon master had already resigned to his fate and he would enjoy every one of these seconds in giving his everything to take as many of these bastards with him as he simply could. Even if his title reflected his true specialty perfectly, it certainly didn’t mean he was a weak paladin either and he knew he’d be more than a match even against those who had finally ended Malor’s war once and for all.
The other officer’s command made Osran hesitate deeply about what he should do in his situation. Not many of the ordinary knights seemed to be willing to follow him but he knew that continuing the fight in this corridor was complete madness. Inside, he knew he absolutely couldn’t abandon his comrades, no matter what happened. Willey was already fighting against four of the invaders at once, his face communicating nothing but determination and will to put every last bit of his skill into play one last time. Even Osran was astonished when he saw the balding man’s mastery of his two tiny axes which left their horrifying marks on the enemy. Even more surprisingly, he seemed to be able to even get close to attacking the two healers of the small but fierce attacking group.
Willey himself was nearly completely consumed by his instincts and his desire cut these bastards down. Soon, they’d take everything from him and he’d make sure to take as much as he simply could from them in return. A hit after hit landed upon the fighters of the Alliance, the Cannon Master’s agility making it nearly impossible for them to mount a counterattack against him. A look of fear rose to the human priest’s face as he saw the crazed look in the Scarlet officer’s face and none of his comrades seemed to be able to stop him… until the druid to his left finally decided to put an end to this charade.
The paladin grinned as he pulled his right axe away from a hunter’s throat, looking as she fell into the ground, lifeless. He then turned towards the priest, immediately trying to swing his small but vicious weapons towards him. Suddenly, he noticed that he was apparently being targeted by some massive bolt of what seemed like fire coming from the moon itself. However, when he attempted to shield himself from the attack, he felt the same feeling fall upon him that had already made Malor’s fight that much more difficult. He suddenly felt that his request for the Light’s protection had failed for some unknown reason and on the same moment, he realized that his slight oversight had cost him everything.
Shivers crept down Osran’s spine as he saw the massive bolt of deep blue engulf Willey, his cries filling the entire corridor as his flesh turned into mere ash, the Cannon Master’s form soon collapsing into the ground under the druid’s magic. That sight left Osran stunned for a few seconds but even then, this wasn’t a time to reflect on that horrible sight.
“Now, follow me! You saw what happened to him! Fall back now if you want to live!” He cried to his comrades and this time, hardly nobody hesitated to follow his command. Osran looked with a content look as he turned around to form the next line of defense deeper within the Bastion. However, it was at this very moment that something happened that he
hadn’t expected at all.
The elven mage among the attackers knew this was the perfect moment to cut the Crusade’s retreat short. He knew more than well that their morale had been depleted by the loss of their commanders and now, all they wanted was to get away from this as soon as they only could and that opened a very interesting opportunity for him to cast a small spell…
A slight look of hope appeared to Osran’s face as he saw another group of knights block the central part of the Hall of Lights. Maybe, they could finish the surviving attackers and save the Bastion even after the loss of Malor and Willey. He was ready to help his comrades escape from that hellish fight… until something happened nobody had expected, even less wanted to expect. It seemed like the entire area around the doorway deeper into the citadel suddenly exploded into a massive field of fire which seemed to swallow dozens of crusaders inside it.
Immediately, unspeakable cries seemed to fill the entire hall as Osran looked in horror at his doomed comrades who still tried to expect for nothing. One man managed to escape the sickening inferno and Osran was left looking at horror as he collapsed into the ground, his struggles ending as the flames destroyed the last vestiges of his body. That scene was one from anyone’s worst nightmare and inside, Osran could only say his brief but heartfelt prayers to those whose lives would be ended in this most sickening of ways. He was just about to turn around and head towards his comrades… until another spell hit him through the flames before he could even twitch his body.
Something seemed to be exploding inside Osran and without further wondering, he knew it could be nothing else but some kind of blast of arcane, the area of magic that was the very antithesis of all life. He hardly noticed as he hit the stone wall of the Hall of Lights, the hit only causing more blood to leave his battered body. He didn’t even want to look at his chest as he could only imagine what kind of sight would then meet his eyes. Instead, the Crimson Legionary closed his eyes and with all his concentration, started to cast a brief spell of healing in his mind, knowing he didn’t have a lot of time before the flames would extinguish and the attackers would end his struggles once and for all.
Nearly all of the paladin’s senses were numb and he saw nothing coherent as he forced his body back to a standing position and started to walk towards his comrades. The paladin had absolutely no idea how long it would be until he’d reach his comrades. All that mattered was to go on and on… trying to do all he could for the Crusade before head finally fall in the name of the Light. After a time which felt like an eternity, he finally heard a friendly voice even if it took herculean efforts for him to make sense of the words.
“Crimson Legionary Lowriver, thank the Light you made it! Take him behind the lines and try to heal the worst of his wounds! Now, he doesn’t have much time!” If the aging paladin had been in any better condition, he would have noticed the awe in the other man’s voice at his ability to even move his finger in his condition. He frowned as he saw Osran’s armor nearly completely painted red and his face covered with deep, horrifying wounds but managed to dismiss them from his mind as it was barely the first time he saw such injuries. He took a sigh as he pulled his sword, looking as the enemy appeared from the opposing door, the flames hardly extinguished at that point. The Crusade’s second line of defense was ready to face the enemy, led by Archivist Galford who knew that this was the time to put all his knowledge and leadership into good use.
None of that, however, was important to Osran who was quickly carried to the last corridor before the heart of the citadel, the famed Crimson Throne. He cried as every part of his body ached with terrible pain, that sensation growing dimmer and dimmer by the second. Through it all, he heard a faint voice that even now registered in his mind surprisingly easily.
“Stay still, Lowriver! I don’t have much time before I’ll have to help the others! Regardless of your position, we will go help the others unless you calm down and give us the chance to help you! The old woman snarled, knowing that there would be dozens more lives on the line in less than a minute. She respected Osran’s efforts in defending the Bastion as much as anyone else but she also had to remember her charge in helping all of those who needed her help and if someone made that impossible, it was their loss, not hers.
Hearing those words, Osran knew just what was actually on the line here. He took the deepest of sighs and he gritted his teeth together so tightly their hurt, deciding he was strong enough to go through these sickening moments. Apart from his forced, pained breaths, he was completely still as he felt the familiar, sweet feeling flow into each one of his limbs. Second after second, his sight returned and the all-encompassing agony started to wear away. It wasn’t long before the priest’s spell started to wear off, causing Osran to quickly rise to a sitting position. He gasped deeply as he glanced at the priest and spoke to her in a revering voice.
“Thank you for your help. I’ll join the others and…” He started before he heard the crying of his comrades who at that same moment engaged the charging enemy. He and the priest exchanged quick glances before the healer headed off into the fields of battle. Osran looked at the escalating scene in concern, dreading the thought of how this all would end. He panted in still-lingering pain as he rose to his feet, his sides aching with each slight movement he took. He put his hand on his chest as he raised his eyes at his friends who, to the paladin’s horror, were already being pushed back. The paladin quickly touched his broken armor and looked at the dried blood that now covered his entire armor, conflicting thoughts rising to his mind.
What in earth was happening? The aging paladin had heard many times of the Banshee Queen’s Alliance with the Horde and of the Alliance’s expeditions into the old lands of Lordaeron. That wasn’t what bothered him but to witness his enemies’ merciless attack… His comrades seemed to be nothing compared to these mysterious members of the Alliance which was something the Crimson Legionary could hardly begin to understand. He had been surprised by the news from the Monastery and Tyr’s Hand but this… this was something he couldn’t even begin to expect. He was starting to pant as he drew his word again, preparing to join his comrades in battle once more before he heard Galford’s voice
from among the fighters.
“Head towards the Throne, Lowriver! The Grand Crusader himself demanded your presence there!” The archivist cried as he received another blow to his left hand. Osran frowned deeply before he cried back to his comrade, not in the least amused by his words.
“I won’t, Galford! My place is here to guard…” He started but before he could even finish his sentence, the balding man cried back to him with all his might.
“You received your answers, now follow them like a knight of your position should! The Grand Crusader’s word is absolute as it has…” He started but before he could continue, his opponent found the perfect opening and the head of the finest archivist and scholar in all of Lordaeron dropped into the floor of the Hall of Lights, leaving Osran to witness the gruesome sight. The man’s lifeless eyes stopped to stare at the paladin, causing rising horror to rise within Osran. Now, all of the leading members of the Legion had fallen under the attackers’ attack and their onslaught didn’t show even signs of slowing down.
Second after second, wider cracks started to form within the defenders’ ranks as their foes pushed their backs against the walls. Even if Osran didn’t want to admit it, he knew already that those men were already as good as dead. The vigor with which the enemy was advancing… It all felt so very unreal to the paladin that there was barely one conscious thought within his mind as he finally turned around, completely shocked by the violence of the onslaught. But right now, he’d do as Galford told him with his last seconds even if the thoughts of surviving through this day had all but died within the paladin’s mind.
A deep sigh left the Grand Crusader’s chest as he looked towards the door into his sanctum, full well knowing what was transpiring. Yet, there was not one thought of understanding and sympathy for any of those pitiful weaklings who had failed him and hastened the destruction of his order, his creation! Dying in this battle suited them perfectly as was as Balnazzar was concerned. He would get another chance to take the fight to the Lich King but to the demon’s regret, he knew it would take many, many years to assume control of another organization as powerful as the Scarlet Crusade had once been.
Not one word was heard from his closest bodyguards either. There was nothing to be said: each of those valiant men knew that all of their comrades were meeting their ends out there and that they’d soon follow them, slain by a pityingly small group of outsiders. That thought made each of the paladins more than morbid but even then, they were ready to serve the Grand Crusader faithfully until their last breaths. That eternity of oppressing silence and preparing for the inevitable was suddenly brought to an end as another voice called from the nearby corridor.
“I am here as you requested, Grand Crusader! Eve… everyone else has fallen out there. We are all that’s left.” Osran said as he quickly joined the Crusade’s master’s bodyguard but his words didn’t earn any immediate reaction from Dathrohan. He waited for a few seconds before answering, his voice heavy as he spoke.
“I’m aware of that, Lowriver. And it is up to us to make a valiant last stand here, in the Crimson Throne itself. That is why I requested your presence. I know the full extent of your powers and I hope that we’ll make a fight that will be spoken of for years! The elite of the Crimson Legion, the most exalted champions of the Crusade! Today, we face an enemy like which we’ve never fought before and it’s very possible we will not make it. However, our order deserves that we will do our all to fight of these bastards from our Bastion. Whether we win or fall today, make sure that you are all worthy of the love the Light has shown towards all of us during these blessed years!” He cried, earning final salutes from those around him, each of them honored by being able to share this moment with their leader.
Even Osran couldn’t be able to completely put aside the pride of this moment. To think he’d fall beside one of the founders of the Silver Hand and the knight who he had followed all these fearful months… yes, there would no greater glory, no greater honor than this to be earned. He took a sigh and drew his sword from its sheath as he saw movement within the corridor leading towards the Throne and on that moment, he knew what would come next. He listened as the Grand Crusader’s thundering voice echoed through the massive hall.
“So you have fought your way here, adventurers. You have fought your way here by slaughtering all those who had fought so hard to prevent the shadow of undeath from ever falling upon this holy place. Who ordered you to commit this atrocity? I know that king Wrynn is a man of honor and he’d never order this kind of abomination.” Saidan said, his voice trembling with hate. It wasn’t apparent whether he even expected an answer as he was always preparing for the coming fight. However, the tension was relieved for a short moment when the night elf raised his hand to order his comrades to stop for a few moments. His voice was surprisingly calm as he answered the paladin’s question.
“The Alliance’s interest in your Crusade has been meager at best, Dathrohan. We have all come here to end your reign of terror over the civilians of Lordaeron and to pave way for the Dawn as they have proven more than capable of one day ending the Scourge. You and your defiled order, on the other hand, have proven yourselves capable of only murdering and torturing innocents in the name of the Light! For this, we decided to put your twisted Crusade to its final rest!” He spoke in a loud voice, causing Osran to tighten his grip of his sword. He knew the night elf’s explanation would hardly be believable but this… this was something he simply couldn’t tolerate.
“Spoken like a true mindless pawn of the Dawn, I see. Come here and I will take full pleasure in showing that the Crusade is still more than capable of defending the truth and the Light against the likes of you!” He said, knowing there was nothing more to say in this situation. To hear that some self-righteous fools would actually claim such outrageous things… these souls were obviously past redemption. However, his moment was soon interrupted as Saidan quickly snapped at him.
“Stay silent, Lowriver! As for you, I give you one final chance to lay down your arms and plead for the Light’s forgiveness in this place of grace and hope. Fail to do this and I promise you, you won’t leave this place ever again.” He said, knowing that his command wouldn’t be followed but that mattered little. The dwarven hunter suddenly spat at the floor in front of himself, raising his bow towards Saidan and crying in a loud voice.
“Tae’s enough jabbering, murderer! I’ll show ye just how we treat traitors like ye in ol’ good, Kharanos!” He cried as he launched his arrow right at the Grand Crusader but that didn’t even seem to make the slightest of impressions on him. He merely parried the arrow with his sword and cried back to the attackers loudly.
“Today you have unmade what took me years to create! For this you shall all die by my hand!” The bellowing outrage was apparent to everyone present as he cast a spell that none of his comrades had seen from him before. A small cover of darkness appeared around him as he locked eyes with the hunter and almost immediately afterwards, the dwarf started to cry terribly and he dropped his bow into the ground as he pulled both of his hand to hold his head as he collapsed into the ground. He continued screaming as if his entire head was about to explode even if there was not one wound to be seen it.
That sight surprised Osran greatly and he frowned deeply at it. He had seen it before but usually it was used by priest’s who had specialized in darker forms of magic, ones that weren’t associated with anything even resembling the Light. Rather those kinds of priests were almost as despised as the demon-summoning warlocks and the fact that the Grand Crusader was adept in such magics disturbed the paladin greatly. He’d have to investigate this later if he got the chance but for now, he couldn’t question the spell’s effectiveness. And even then, there was no time to wonder about such things as Osran saw the attacking warriors begin their charge towards the paladins.
The defenders didn’t waste time gathering their lines and starting their own offensive. All of them fought as one as they engaged the enemy in this decisive melee. Blows were exchanged and spells were cast towards the hated enemies and this time, the Crusade’s highest elite managed to stand their ground unlike their lower-ranked comrades earlier. Osran glanced at his opponent, a strongly-built human who attempted to break his opponent’s defense with brute power. However, Osran managed to infuse his weapon with enough Light to make up for his opponent’s advantage in pure strength.
Second after second, the paladin tried to build on a small advantage against his opponent and with great efforts, he managed to wrest the battle from his opponent and put him on the defensive. Osran panted deeply, knowing that his opponent’s youth made his efforts even more difficult but that was a thing he had been forced to face many times before already. But inside, the paladin felt the song of the battle sing as strong as it had in years past. Quickly, the Crimson Legionary cast a quick bolt of Light against his opponent, catching him off-guard. His eyes widened with triumph as he managed to sink his blade into the other man’s chest, his eyes dimming into the mist of death.
Looks of fear rose to many of the other attackers’ faces as they saw their comrade fall into the ground, their numbers getting extremely concerning. Osran was about to turn around to help his comrades but before he could quite see what was happening around him, the paladin felt a stinging pain in his shoulder. The aging knight cursed as he turned to face the other attacker, knowing he couldn’t take much more injuries after his earlier, near-fatal wounds. The fight was on but Osran knew he’d have to mind his own surroundings better if he wanted to fight on as long as he could.
Even then, one crusader after another started to fall under the adventurers’ brutal onslaught. Each of them stood proudly in the face of defeat but still, the enemy was unbelievably powerful and their powers beyond terrifying. Inside, even Balnazzar knew this and for the first time, even the demon couldn’t bring himself to blame his minions for their failure. Even the Legion would have struggled in the face of these heroes but still, the dreadlord wasn’t anywhere close to being ready to give up. He dominated the entire battlefield, supporting those around him while forcing the enemy back whenever possible. He was the one who held the line together, his determined and powerful leadership forging the last vestiges of trust in his comrades they needed.
The Grand Crusader’s eyes turned into an expectant smile as he gathered all of his strength into one, mighty attack as he faced a fearful dwarf before him. The latter knew full well who he was facing and that bothered him without an end. Even if the rest of the Crusade had fallen before him and his comrades, he could still see that Dathrohan was every bit as powerful as the rumors had told him. Here was a knight who wouldn’t without the most bitter of fights. Still, he knew he didn’t have any choice at this point but fight on and try to beat his opponent. However, it wasn’t long before he’d realize the depth of his folly.
Quickly, Dathrohan released the strength he had gathered in his weapon and before an eye could react, he lowered it towards the dwarf. His eyes widened as he saw the massive sword fall down upon him, trying to block it with his own axe. However, the dwarf’s weapon was cut to pieces as if it had been made of glass and the dwarf’s armor didn’t offer even the least of protection before the Light-infused sword of the Grand Crusader. His head was cut to two and before anyone could react, the lord of the Scarlet Crusade moved towards his next victim. This fight could still be won.
However, the last two remaining warriors understood the danger of their situation as well. Soon, their casters would be exposed and at that moment, their offensive would be over. They had to prevent that at any cost and each of them knew just what they’d have to do to prevent it. The two suddenly leaped further away from the enemy and started to spin around, throwing any of the Crusaders into the ground and forcing the others back. This moment was quickly utilized by the magic-wielders as they started to cast massive snowstorm and lighting that battered the defenders without even a flicker of mercy.
At first, it seemed that the defenders could still retain their ground against this sudden attack but soon, some of them started to fall beneath the constant bombardment, even their strength not enough to withstand the forces that they were now facing. Osran looked around himself in shock, seeing as his most trusted comrades died all around him. The warriors’ endless assault and the casters’ spells seemed to be too much for him even if he didn’t realize it at first. Even if the breeze slowed his limbs tremendously, he still managed to overpower his next opponent but just as he prepared to take him out, he felt another flicker of pain emanate from his back, this was much worse than his previous
wound.
A silent curse escaped from the paladin’s mouth as he prepared to turn around to take his next opponent out but it was at this very moment that the aging paladin realized something that made his blood run cold. All of the knights who had only a minute earlier fought by his side lay now dead in the ground, each of them crushed by the enemy’s untold strength. And even worse, he was quickly being surrounded by the enemies, the only crusaders still standing beside him being Dathrohan and two of his closest aides.
That moment seemed to stretch forever within the Crimson Legionary’s mind. So, it was true. The Crusade had fallen and his comrades had already been slain by the enemy.
Whatever hope there had been left earlier was now gone, swallowed by the sickening inevitability of his own death. He stood no chance against these enemies and they knew it as well. However, his earlier sentiments hadn’t left Osran even now. He’d do his everything before the end and if he wanted to get anything done anymore, he’d have to at least begin by slaughtering the enemy’s healers before he could even start planning anything else. Osran quickly cast a judgement against the hunter seemingly guarding the priest and cried to them in loud voice.
“In the name of the Lightbringer and our king, you will see what being a paladin really means!” He cried as he sliced the stunned hunter’s throat open, charging against the now-exposed priest with all his might. The former attempted his very best to stop the attacker’s rush but to his growing horror, nothing he did seemed to have any impact on the enraged paladin. He tried to turn around and flee before his adversary but in a way he hadn’t felt in ages, Osran fought as one with the force he was wielding. Any coherent thoughts were now gone, replaced by the mere hope of doing whatever he still could in this life.
With a quick gesture, he hit his opponent with hammer of righteous fire which fell him to the ground. He gritted his teeth as he sank his sword into the cleric’s back before finishing the job by turning his sinned flesh into pure ash. However, then came what Osran had feared all along. He felt a burning hit on his side which immediately threw him into the ground. The paladin cried before he extinguished his flaming body but he was surrounded before he could regain his footing. The initial hit pained the paladin without an end but he knew the worst was still to come. He attempted to defend himself from the enemies but before he could react, he saw his sword being thrown into the corner of the room by a massive hit from his enemies. Osran didn’t move his gaze when he heard the voice of one of his attackers speak to him.
“Ye put up a great fight, lad. But now it’s all over for ye.” He said, causing Osran to look at the Grand Crusader who was equally being overpowered by mere numbers. Inside, one last idea rose to Osran’s mind. He could still let himself place the Light firmly in his command as he had done in Light’s Hope. He had heard of the terrifying power he had wielded back then even if he couldn’t quite remember it. Maybe that way he could put a new fight against the enemy, just maybe…
Yet, it was immediately afterwards that the paladin remembered the other side of that idea. The only thing he remembered of that day was his horrifying, temporary disconnect with the Light itself. It was more than clear that what he had done that day had infuriated the Light greatly as the paladin knew more than well that some few knights had lost its command forever. He had been blessed with another chance to regain his favor with it and inside, the aging man understood that he had only one choice. He would not shame himself in the name of all the good in this world by letting in to his inner rage. He would fall as the paladin he was, not as some empty husk of a man who had once been one of the leaders of the Scarlet Crusade. As a man of the Light, not as one who had thrown its grace away because of his own hubris. He snorted briefly as he finally spoke to his foes.
“Maybe that’s what you think. But you’ll see, I will leave a far greater legacy to Azeroth than any of you bastards ever will. Do whatever you want but know that even if I have more regrets than I’d ever dare to remember, my stand here today is not one of them. I hope you will all burn in whatever hell you will find yourselves one day.” The paladin said bitterly as he prepared for the warrior before him to finish his struggles but the first hit came from behind him.
“Shut your mouth, monster! We’ll see who’ll find themselves in hell today!” A night elf’s voice called as he kicked Osran before penetrating his back with his sword. The aging paladin twitched greatly at the impact before he collapsed into the ground heavily, staying still. The violence of the hit was terrible and Osran felt his blood flowing from his mouth as he fought to retain his consciousness. Still, the wound itself was sickening enough that the gathered adventurers around the paladin regarded the paladin as already dead.
The Grand Crusader spat before him as he saw his last comrades falling around him. Now, he was completely alone and as far as he wanted to disregard it, he had no choice but to accept that he was losing this struggle. His possessed body was bleeding heavily and he could already feel his fighting grow more forced by the minute. Inside, Balnazzar realized he wouldn’t win the battle like this. Luckily, none of his followers were here anymore to see what he was going to do. At the very least, he’d have his revenge on these cursed cowards… The demon suddenly disengaged from the fight and started to speak as shadowy, black power started to dance around him. His voice changed from the strong, noble tone of Dathrohan into a seething, even rumbling menace as he spoke.
“You fools think you can defeat me so easily? Face the true might of the Nathrezim!”
Even if he was terribly battered, Osran could still hear that shocking change in the Grand Crusader’s voice. In his weakening mind awakened a new horror and fear and even in his current condition, he started to force and tear his body to turn towards the scene of the battle. Every part of his body ached terribly but with herculean efforts he finally felt his injured body turn towards the scene of the battle. The sight that met his eyes would have made him cry in shock had he been able to in his situation.
Dathrohan’s form was being engulfed by thick darkness, which for a moment seemed to swallow the legendary paladin’s body but even then, what happened next was still more than apparent to those around him. The Crimson Legionary’s eyes widened as he saw the Grand Crusader start to grow, his height getting larger by the second. Saidan’s human body started to get twisted terribly, his skin growing paler and sick-looking while his armor turned into a darker, heavier one. Two wings pushed out of his back and at that point, Osran recognized the being before him.
It was a dreadlord, one of the most despicable of creatures in the entire world. The paladin would never forget Mal’Ganis, the creature who had led the Scourge initially, the being who had turned Arthas into his pawn. He still remembered Tichondrius, another of these nathrezim who had guided the fallen prince after his fateful decision. Osran didn’t know there were more but apparently, he had been wrong. However, it were the implications that truly hurt the wounded paladin.
Had he truly followed a demon lord all these years? No, it couldn’t possibly be true… All the noble deeds of Dathrohan simply couldn’t be done by an incarnation of evil itself. But at what point had the real Dathrohan turned into this abomination? Osran cursed as he coughed blood. He had given his all to serve the Lordaeron… and for what? To serve that monstrous creature? The only thing that saved Osran from the worst of mental anguish was his fading sight and thoughts. The sight of the demon engaging the attackers seemed like a scene from another life, from another time… A simple sigh escaped from Osran’s mind as his consciousness failed him.
The massive demon wasted no time unleashing his full power. Immediately, he released a screeching cry into the air, installing growing fear into his enemies’ hearts. A few of the attackers even tried to run away from the dreadlord, a mistake Balnazzar immediately utilized to his own advantage. He cast a bolt of shadow after those poor fools, immediately burning their entire bodies into ash. The rest of the attackers looked in shock at their opponent, none of them expecting such a monstrous turn of events. None of them had a high opinion of the Crusade’s leader but none of them had wanted to expect this… The human priest cried at the demon with a loud voice, even his voice dipping with outrage and despair.
“You will pay for this, monster! It was you who turned the Crusade into that twisted nightmare and for that, you must die!” He cried, casting a purging spell at the winged creature. However, Balnazzar didn’t say a word in response, instead focusing on blocking the bright bolt of Light. He looked at it tiredly before raising his hand and without any noticeable effort, the spell vanished into thin air. Immediately afterwards, Balnazzar pulled his palm into a fist before raising his hand a bit higher. Looks of fear started to rise around Balnazzar as shadow started to appear around the priest.
“Wh… what is happening? Stop whatever you’re… arrgh!” He cried but not a muscle twisted in the demon’s face at those threats. Instead, he merely continued his spell and shortly, the clerics cried died down. Finally, a smile rose to the dreadlord’s face as the human turned at his companions, casting more bolts at all of them while starting to heal the demon’s injuries. The others looked at him in shock when the night elf cried to his comrades in fear.
“Try to keep him incapacitated while we take this unholy creature down! Quickly, don’t waste any time!” He cried while the mage cast a quick freezing spell at the mind controlled cleric. Balnazzar turned at them tiredly, knowing any delay worked to his advantage.
“This battle is as good as over, weaklings. Say your last prayers to our lord Kil’Jaeden!” He cried as he raised shadowy fires from the floor in order to try to block his opponents from striking distance. For a short moment, he was somewhat successful but the enemy mages managed to purge his own spells away. The demon quickly ran closer to his opponents, willing to end this charade. First, it seemed like he might be successful in getting another of the remaining foes away from this battle but the warrior managed to resist the demon’s attacks with his great strength. It was at this point that Balnazzar realized his first mistake. The mage and the druid cast their strongest spells to the reckless dreadlord who yelled in pain at his failed initiative. Even more, the fighter before him was far from unable to continue the fight and as the demon reeled from the hits, the warrior hit him into his abdomen, severing several pieces of his armor.
However, that wasn’t the end of Balnazzar’s setbacks. The priest he had controlled was snapped awake from the villain’s grasp and without further doubts, released a massive wave of Light towards the deadlord which burned horrifying marks into his flesh. Balnazzar cursed deeply as he tried to disengage from the fight which quickly had become so threatening to him but he soon realized it was already too late. A hit after hit added to his wounds and the incoming spells only made his situation worse. The demon was in a deadlock, not able to escape while all attempts at counterattack were futile. He looked in shock and growing fears as the druid in front of him spoke to him in a voice that was beyond threatening and hateful.
“Consider this as a payment for all you’ve done to the Crusade and the rest of Lordaeron. We’ll make sure to purge your corruption from this land forever, fiend.” He said as he raised his hands, releasing a massive ball of deep blue toward Balnazzar, a look of disbelief mirrored in his eyes. A scream escaped the nathrezim’s mouth as his body twitched under the impact of the destructive spell. The demon started to break apart before them, one cry escaping his lips before life escaped his monstrous form.
“Damn you mortals! All my plans of revenge, all my hate... all burned to ash...” Were Balnazzar’s last words before he disappeared in front of the brave adventurers. It was all over. The true master of the Scarlet Crusade, the malicious being that had done so much to twist Dathrohan and Mograine’s dream to the abomination it had become was dead.. After the adventurers’ departure, silence fell upon the Crimson Throne and for nearly an hour, not a voice could be heard in the former stronghold of the great order. The last champions of the Crusade were only waiting until their flesh would start to become one with the earth, their souls already long departed… all but one.
After a long time which felt like an eternity, one of the corpses on the ground started to twitch weakly, his breaths suddenly growing audible again.
Osran was still alive.
And thus fell the greatest stronghold of the Scarlet Crusade, the order’s leadership all but obliterated… all except one. How will Osran use his chance to rise from this abyss or will this ordeal end up being his end as well? Yep, this might have been a rather dark chapter but then again, none of us ever thought about the stories we ended while being too busy defeating bosses and collecting loot, now were we? In any case, the next chapter will be this story’s last. So if you have any comments, now’s one of the last chances to share them! But until that, have a great week everyone!