((A wee plot Sinhale and I are working on for the old house))
The Dark Lord Archnazg stood in the high section Fenris Keep, which was now a heavily fortified stronghold, expanded and renovated.
Staring down at the gates, he saw his soldiers - all clothed and armoured in darkness - sending hell down over the walls at the attackers. There was a huge explosion and flash, he learned forward as he saw a fleet of wind-riders dropping firey bombs down on his troops.
His High Executor Othragon Rotarm's voice could be heard bellowing out orders to the army defending his keep. Arrows and fireballs flew everywhere, he watched the windriders fall to the ground. At that same moment more wind-riders swooped by his window, he jumped back, now clearly becoming agitated. The keep shook, and rumbling could be heard.
But still, his troops defended the ramparts.
"Is this truly the end, then?" He thought to himself. "It cannot be."
In his command room, anxious looking servants stood, some sat with their head in their hands. Noise filled the room as commands and orders were given and taken. The Dark Lord stood silently, looking out of his window.
He could see down on the ground, Horde catapults firing across huge balls of fire. And to his disgust, he saw soldiers of the Dark Lady with them. He thought of his son, Keretas, whom he had dispatched to far lands weeks before, in an attempt to save the young man. The keep rumbled again and sandy grain spilled out from the brickwork. Green gas filled the air, he could see, he watched the crowds of orcs melt in its power. But now from the skies, more wind-riders flew, smashing down the Plaguebringers.
"Dark Lord... Archnazg. We must leave! The Horde are too strong. We are about to lose the ramparts. We're surrounded! It's over!!" One of his uniformed officers yelled at him.
Archnazg barely spoke, he just watched down, as the gates to his precious keep were smashed through and the finest orcish soldiers in the land poured in. The Horde forces spilled in like water upon rock. The cries of the House of Sylvanas Dreadguard could be heard as they met with the orcs.
For just under an hour, Archnazg watched the orcish Horde smash through his guard. There was a bang inside the room, a gunshot. Fathius turned around quickly to see his staff with pistols and guns to their head, firing shots, spilling their own brains over the richly decorated room, then slinking down into a heap.
He turned around, still silent, as his world he spent so much zeal creating shattered before him. There was another smash as the window shattered and a swarm of bats and birds flew in - in a flash they altered their shape. Tauren and troll druids had smashed through the window. They shifted again into large jaguar forms and began slashing their way towards the Dark Lord.
Archnazg raised his hand as they pounced at them, creating an invisible shield in which the shapeshifters crashed into. He then spread his fingers and from them a hiss of Shadowy energy was heard and the shapeshifers moaned in pain, shrieking and in a second vapourised into a cloud of blood.
The Dark Lord, who had lost near enough all of his human flesh, was foul skeleton-like being with only dead skin stretched across his face. The creature pulled his hood up to cover his face and turned around and marched from the room.
The keep was a frenzy. Forsaken ran around, manically trying to defend the place. Others lay whimpering. They were dirty, their armour and cloth was ripped, torn and broken. The wounded and dead lay everywhere. The orcs were about to break in the front door.
Archnazg headed down the stairwells, he could hear the battle commencing above him. He headed deep into the expanded crypt. In his hand he held a key, in which he fitted into a door. The roaring of battle echoed down the stairwell, but for now, it was silent. Growing anxious, the key trembled in his hand - the first time in many years the Dark Lord had felt fear. He knew above him, his enemies he had long debated with and tried to manipulate for many years, and who had wanted him destroyed a long time ago were about 100 meters above him, hunting for him.
He opened the stone door, inside there was a vast room with many corridors and doorways, but most noticeable of all was the system of piping and the massive green tanks which ran far down into the earth directly under Fenris Keep. The pipes spread all the way through the Keep and surrounding island. Hundereds of pipes could be seen exiting the long chamber. Here was where the Blight was stored, and he hoarded it. Hundreds of thousands of litres were stored in the massive tanks and he knew, if he could overhaul the control of Blight to the piping, and generate enough pressure, the tanks would explode, destroying the keep and permanently turn this part of the island into a toxic wasteland.
He hurried over to the control room, where thousands of dials, buttons and valves covered the walls. Knowing the system well, as one of its architects, he hammered away at several controls. Turning valves, pulling levers and pressing buttons - he knew what he was doing. The pipes began to shake, and the sound of running liquid and steam would be heard. .
Now all he had to do was get out. For he did not plan to die here. Pipes began to rupture, and a low, deep cranking sounds and rumbles began to emit from the tanks and piping system.
He quickly made his way back to the door after grabbing a gas mask and was met with a brown skinned orc instantly. Within a second Archnazg had a dagger into the orcs chest. He threw it on the ground and made for the catacombs. Like any ruthless paranoid leader, Archnazg had designed a means of escape. He paced quickly, never would he hurry to a run. More rumbling could be heard and out of nowhere a massive smash bellowed. Looking back an illuminous green light flashed and following it, a cloud of green smoke hurled through the corridor. Archnazg staggered as the blast was felt, and strapped on his gas mask. He closed a thick stone door behind him, and made quickly along the catacombs. After a few minutes of zigzagging through the tombs he found his secret hatch disguised as a statue. Shifting it with a hidden button, he made his way through a narrow slope and found himself by the edge of the water, with Fenris keep some half a mile behind him.
He looked behind to see the keep in flames, the Blight coated the area. Screaming could be heard, the clashing of swords rang heavily. Part of the keep had collapsed and fell in as a result of the explosion, revealing the insides of his palace. He felt scared and sad, and very small. His world had come to an end, his ideals for a new Forsaken race were crushed. He knew that all awaited him now was destruction. He made his way to the edge of the water, his cape flying high in the wind. He unstrapped the gasmask and threw it on the ground.
A skeletal drake, wreathed in blue flames swooped down and landed. The dark lord quickly mounted, and glanced back at the battle he was fleeing before the drake took to the air. At lightning speeds, it disappeared.
For now Archnazg had escaped.
