The Fall

omg I just wrote my first fan-fic ever!

A little introduction to my boys Solitiaire and Landise. (High Elf / Human) Takes place during the fall of Quel'Thalas. Hopefully I didn't screw with the lore too much!

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He was too late. He'd crossed half of Azeroth, by sea and by land. Had called in every debt he had, neglected food and sleep, had ridden two horses into the ground. But he was too late. Quel'Thalas was in flames. Silvermoon reduced to ruins. The bodies of his people lay scattered on the ground like so many fallen leaves.



"No ..." Solitiaire stood at the crest of a hill overlooking the city. A strong wind was blowing, carrying with it the stench of smoke and death. He could see movement throughout the ruins - hideous creatures from beyond the grave swarming the once beautiful streets of Silvermoon. They bickered amongst themselves, snarling and howling, sounds that carried on the wind and sent chills down Solitiaire's spine. Scourge. He watched a pair of them fight over the mauled remains of a High Elf child. One was gleefully setting fire to buildings, another chewing on the entrails of what might have once been a hawkstrider. Countless others stalked the streets, hunting. Sniffing out survivors, seeking anyone that had escaped the first wave of death, hopelessly hidden amidst the carnage.



"No ..." He repeated, then almost jumped out of his skin when a pair of strong hands gripped his shoulders. The firm grip made him realise he was trembling uncontrollably. He consciously tried to still himself, but it was difficult. His home, his people lay burning in front of him. He should have been here.



"I'll kill them ..."



The hands that held him shifted, pulling him back against a solid chest and embracing him tightly.



"Soli --"



"I'll kill them all." He ignored the soft voice, fought against the arms that held him. Desperately, he struggled, tears streaming down his soot stained cheeks. "I'll kill them all!" He tried to reach for his sword, but his arms were pinned to his sides. The man that held him was strong - stronger than he was. "Damnit Landise, let me go!"



"No. It's suicide Soli."



That familiar, cherished voice was close to his ear and choked with the horrors of what he'd seen. But it was also firm, unyielding. Solitiaire screamed wordlessly and sank to his knees, the other man dropping with him. He might have given in to despair then, if not for the sudden rumble in the ground, and the sound of many approaching footsteps. Tear blind, he raised his head, ready to fight, but it wasn't the enemy riding towards them. A company of rangers thundered across the charred landscape; reinforcements from the Farstrider Retreat.

Solitiaire shook off Landise's restraining arms and rose to his feet, lifting a hand to hail the rangers. Their leader saw him and called a halt, reining in his vibrant red hawkstrider.



"You two should get out of here!" The ranger kept a tight rein on his agitated mount, eyeing Solitiaire's human companion with suspicion. He looked like he wanted to say something, but decided there were more important matters at hand. "Fall back to Sunstrider Isle with the other survivors!"



"Wait!" Solitiaire grabbed his horse's reins and pulled himself wearily into the saddle. "I'll come with you, I can fight."



The ranger eyed him critically, then gave a curt nod;



"Alright. Don't fall behind, we can't be babysitting you."



Solitiaire turned to Landise, who was quietly mounting his own horse. He was prepared to argue, to have to explain himself, but when their eyes met he saw understanding in the paladin's lined face.



"You should go. Get out while you can."



Landise shook his head and scratched his greying beard.



"Where you go, I go."



He had no words. All he could do was stare at the man who, despite racial differences and prejudices, was his best friend and lover. The man who had followed him across the world, and would now follow him into hell.

The Farstrider ranger cleared his throat impatiently. Solitiaire glanced at him and nodded, then urgently back to Landise;



"Landise, I --"



"Shut up." The paladin said gruffly, falling in behind the Farstriders as they began to head off. Solitiaire had no choice but to kick his horse into movement and follow.



A hush seemed to fall over the world as they passed through the gates of Silvermoon.



This is what the end of the world must look like ...



Smoke, fire, blood. Snarls, screams, and the sound of ravenous jaws tearing flesh. It was something out of a nightmare. Once through the gate, the Farstriders dismounted and drew their bows, nocking arrows fletched with colourful hawkstrider feathers. They were better suited to guerrilla warfare, hiding among the landscape and taking down the enemy from a distance, not the hack and slash that would take place within the city. But there was no one else. They had to go in.

Landise unstrapped the heavy shield from his back and drew his sword with a soft whisper of steel. The smoky wind tugged at his shaggy salt and pepper hair and his face was creased into hard lines. Firelight glinted off his plate armour, turning white to tarnished red. Solitiaire took his own sword in a two handed grip, flexing his fingers around the hilt. Together, they followed the Farstriders into the city.



The area beyond the gates was eerily empty. The scourge had come and gone, leaving nothing but death and devastation in their wake. All around, buildings in varying stages of fiery destruction billowed black smoke. Solitiaire felt a wave of nausea as they passed one particular building where the smell of roasting meat wafted out with the smoke. How many had died? How many were left? How could anyone survive the enormity of this soulless destruction?



They made their way down the Dawning Lane, the Farstriders picking off any scourge as they came across them. Below the walkway, corpses littered the ground. The only one left standing was the Huntress of the Sun, the great golden statue aiming her bow at the sky.



"The battle must have moved into the city proper." The Farstrider captain murmured. "Come."



They ran to the next gate, Solitiaire and Landise clanking in their armour while the rangers move swift and silent. The sounds of combat reached them as they drew nearer to the gate. The clash of steel, the screams of the dying, shouted orders, undead howls.

A terrible, triumphant cry rose above the din, the sound alone enough to make Solitiaire want to flee. Gritting his teeth, he took a firmer hold on his sword preparing for whatever was beyond that gate.



"Retreat!"



"Pull back!"



The cries preceded a handful of High Elves staggering through the gate, eyes wide, faces hopeless. The Captain grabbed the arm of one as she passed, stopping her mid stride.



"What news?"



"The Ranger-General has fallen!"



"What?!"



"Sylvanas is slain!" The woman's face was a half mask of blood, her robes covered in something foul and black. "Silvermoon is lost!" She wrenched her arm free and ran after the others.



The Captain opened his mouth to speak, but never had a chance to say the words. Dozens of undead scourge poured through the gates and fell upon them. It was a bloody massacre. The Farstriders threw down their bows and drew blades but they were unaccustomed to close combat and were quickly torn down. Landise did his best to protect them, holding off several of the monsters with his shield, slashing to pieces any that came too near. Solitiaire fought by his side, broadsword whirling, slicing, killing. It was glorious, and for a moment he allowed himself to believe that they might survive this day.



Then he turned a fraction of a second too slowly and felt the bite of fouled claws raking his back, tearing through his armour as though it was silk. He hissed in pain and turned to face the creature, sword at the ready. It fell before him, still grasping at his boots as it died. Solitiaire felt blood running down his back, felt the burn of corruption in his flesh.



Ice cold cut through the air like a knife. Solitiaire shuddered, feeling an overwhelming sense of wrongness come over him. Drawn by instinct, his eyes moved to the gates in time to see a man step through. A human, though one could see just by looking at him that the man was something more than that. Something other. His hair was long and white, his skin the grey of undeath, his eyes a pale blue fire. He wore black armour and carried a deadly looking runesword. Solitiaire had spent several years living among the humans and as such, recognised the man immediately. Arthas Menethil. The traitor prince.



"Traitor!"



The death knight grinned at him and raised his blade. Solitiaire braced himself to meet the sword with his own, but was roughly shouldered out of the way by Landise. The paladin blocked the strike with his shield and roared;



"Run!"



Solitiaire regained his footing and watched as Landise blocked another blow, and another. He couldn't run. He wouldn't run. Landise glanced back over his shoulder and saw him standing there.



"Run you stupid elf!"



That moment of inattention was all Arthas needed. Frostmourne flashed through the air in a horizontal strike, deadly blade parting flesh as easily as water. Landise's eyes went wide, his expression stunned as sword and shield fell from his grasp.



"Nooo!"



Solitiaire rushed forward, but was forcefully pulled back by a pair of strong arms. He screamed and fought them, but the Farstriders were unrelenting.



"Leave the human, he's gone."



Landise fell to his knees and his head lolled back, revealing the ruin of his throat. It had been cut so deeply the white of spine could be seen through the red. Blood cascaded down the front of his armour, and the paladin was dead before he hit the ground.



"Landise!"



Somehow the Farstriders dragged him away, grimly cutting through the scourge as they made their retreat back through the city. Solitiaire didn't see much after that. His lover's death replayed in his mind over and over, and the death knight's hollow laughter echoed in his ears.



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