"Icecrown." Sylvanas spoke with icy hatred in her tone, staring towards the last and greatest bastion of the Undead Scourge. "A monument to our suffering."
"You really should ease up on that edgy attitude, Sylvanas." Harry sighed. "Or else you might be tempted to start wearing skulls on your armor again."
The vengeful elf snapped her gaze over to glare at him. "I do not understand your meaning, but I do not appreciate it."
"That's cool, now will you come inside and attend the strategy meeting already? You can brood on your hatred later." He rolled his eyes.
Her eyebrows trembled in rage and she expelled an angry blast of air from her nose. Thanks to how insanely cold it was, it steamed and made her look almost cartoonishly furious. "Very well."
Thus convinced, they entered the command tent set up nearby. It was large – it had to be to comfortably contain all the important people who had come together for this war. The meeting itself hadn't started yet, but it would soon.
Sylvanas went to brood in a corner, a plan that was foiled when his wives went to keep her company, while Harry stepped closer to the table itself. There were enough people present for there to be two levels of participation; strategic and tactical. Harry was at the strategic level, while his girls and Sylvanas were only at the tactical.
Seeing that everyone was present, Highlord Tirion Fordring stepped forward and called the meeting to begin. The old paladin was a powerful, and perhaps more importantly, an uncontroversial figure respected by both the Alliance and the Horde. Not the only such figure present, but definitely the oldest and perhaps most charismatic one.
"Friends and allies, brothers and sisters in arms, we have fought hard and achieved much together." He began heavily. "With ingenuity, faith, strength, and honor, we have pushed the Undead Scourge to its final bastion. The last and hardest battle now lies before us, and what we do here will echo throughout the ages. It has been a privilege to fight at your side."
Laying it on a bit thick, but Harry had to admit that the old man knew how to talk. Only a few people looked more annoyed than inspired, and that had more to do with their general dispositions than anything else. Certainly, nobody expected Garrosh Hellscream to be anything other than angry.
"Archmage Harry, your aid in this war effort was been invaluable both in the alchemical weapons you provided and in the information you shared. Do you know anything of what we can expect inside?" Fordring asked formally.
"Indeed I do." Harry nodded, playing along. Everyone knew that he had been feeding them information gained from Archaedas and the Discs of Norgannon. It had spared them from several nasty surprises cooked up by the Lich King and allowed the war effort to proceed much more smoothly. "Firstly, we cannot yet enter the Citadel proper unless we all wish to die a horrible death."
He was disappointed by the lack of immediate yelling. A bait statement like that usually resulted in at least one person making indignant demands and making a fool of themselves. The experience and discipline of this gathering was really cramping his style.
"The Lich King has prepared a trap, then?" Bolvar Fordragon stated as much as asked.
"He has." Harry nodded. "Some of you may be familiar with the wards that the Kirin Tor erected in their attempt to fend off the Undead Scourge's attack on Dalaran?"
That had been an excellent effort, really. It was just unfortunate that the Kirin Tor had little in the way of martial strength to back those wards up. If they'd had a strong army and were able to force the undead to fight under wards that were unraveling the necromantic energies holding them together, then they could have won that fight. As it was, the then death knight Arthas had been able to use his more powerful minions to simply power through.
"The Scourge is doing something similar? Using a necromantic ward that will kill anything living that passes through them?" Jaina spoke up, her grip on Aluneth tightening. Clearly, she did not appreciate the irony or the plagiarism.
"Yes. The effect won't be as immediate as simply killing anyone that passes through the wards, but it would steadily drain our life force. Fortunately, this type of ward is far more power intensive than the anti-necromancy ward cooked up by Archmage Antonidas. It requires more than just a cadre of powerful mages to maintain it." Harry tapped a finger on the map they had sprawled across the table. "This here is the Forge of Souls, where the Scourge uses arcane machines called soul grinders to power the wards."
"I hope the name of these machines is not literal." Someone muttered.
"Oh no, the name is very literal." Harry answered the fool who should have known better. "They suck up stray spirits and captured souls, and run them through a gauntlet of hideous tortures. The suffering of the tormented souls is then channeled into Icecrown's cold industry and magical defenses. Then after the wrung out soul is spat out of the other end, it gets fed back into the soul grinder to restart the process. The nearly indestructible nature of the soul makes this an extremely efficient system."
The explanation evoked the predictable horrified reactions from most, but one angry orc took the opportunity to take a shot at him.
"You speak as if you admire this abomination." Garrosh Hellscream spat from the Horde backline. He was technically speaking supposed to keep his mouth shut since he was not part of the strategic level of the meeting, but when had courtesy ever stopped him?
"There is no point in explaining to you why a machine that can generate nigh infinite power is impressive." Harry retorted airily, knowing that the lackadaisical tone would annoy Hellscream. "Obviously, the soul grinders must be destroyed and their secrets buried, but as someone who has studied the nature of the soul myself, I must appreciate the skill and knowledge required to create them in the first place."
"Well, I am glad you agree that they must be destroyed." Fordring said diplomatically, but the hidden meaning was clear.
"Of course, I do have standards and the soul should not be violated in such a manner."
"What opposition will we face in this… Forge of Souls?" Varok Saurfang asked.
"Various wraith and apparitions tasked with hunting down souls that manage to escape the cycle of torment, maddened spirits that won't be able to recognize friend from foe, animated skeletons acting as muscle, Cult of the Damned spellcasters that are maintaining the death ward. The ones actually in charge of it are our old friend Kel'thuzad, somewhat fallen from the Lich King's favor due to his recent failures, and his old student, Bronjahm. This is actually Kel'thuzad's last stand, as the Lich King has left his phylactery with the bonebag himself. There is also a twisted spirit called the Devourer of Souls that operates the soul grinders. Speed will be the name of the game here, because if the raiding party takes too long they'll fall to the death ward."
"I know Kel'thuzad's tricks and can lead the assault there." Alexandros Mograine offered. "The mindless hordes will not stand before the Ashbringer, then we can focus upon the lich."
"Aye, I'll go, too." Than Korth'azz piped up.
"Well then, you can hardly leave me out!" Colette called out.
Three of the Four Horsemen? That was giving Harry ideas, but that was for later. "Anyway, that's not the only objective outside of the Citadel itself. The Pit of Saron is where the Scourge mines saronite ore and manufactures its weapons and machines. While not as critical an objective as the Forge of Souls, it should also be destroyed. Aside from the dangerous stocks of saronite ore, there is also a significant force of undead concentrated there under the command of Scourgelord Tyrannus, a powerful death knight. This one is truly loyal to the Lich King and won't hesitate to cause trouble if left alone."
"Is it also covered by the death ward?" Darion Mograine asked.
"No, they hadn't yet made enough soul grinders or captured enough souls to fuel a ward big enough for that." Harry answered.
"Then I will raze the Pit of Saron while my father destroys the Forge of Souls." The younger Mograine decided.
It was always nice when you had an abundance of recklessly brave heroes willing to throw themselves into the fray. "One final note before we get to planning the actual assaults in more detail. We won't be able to make much use of my alchemy here. Icecrown Citadel is too powerfully aligned with the elements of death and cold. As long as the Lich King persists, elements in opposition to him will be severely weakened. Fire mages, paladins, clerics, shamans, druids and so on should account for this. Also, don't die, because odds are that you'll be raised as undead before your corpse hits the ground."
There was a reason why only the most powerful champions were being allowed to participate, why a tournament had been held to weed out anyone who proved too weak. It had been bad enough in Northrend as a whole before Luna and her minions put up hundreds of moonwells to purge to corruption. Here in Icecrown, the effect was far worse. The armies pushing forward had become steadily smaller and more elitist, while the more average rank and file was left behind to man garrisons or reassigned to other locations altogether.
"Where magic fails, strength and steel will serve." Drannosh Saurfang thumped his chest.
"I like the enthusiasm, but seriously, don't die." Drannosh especially should not die. He was the prime candidate to succeed Thrall as Warchief of the Horde and was actually remarkably sensible for an orc. And also easy to manipulate. "We'll talk about Icecrown Citadel itself after we take the Forge of Souls and the Pit of Saron."
Harry stepped away from the table and moved towards his girls. They were standing together with a grumpy Sylvanas and a fidgety Sally Whitemane. The zealous former High Inquisitor of the Scarlet Crusade had been well behaved recently and had contributed to the war effort considerably.
Harry was the only one who knew why that was.
"You girls ready to do this?" He asked as he approached.
"I am always ready to purge the undead!" Sally was almost offended by the question, funnily enough.
Colette merely chuckled. "I am looking forward to getting some more revenge on Kel'thuzad. Are you sure you don't wish to join that assault?"
"Nah, you have him handled." He assured. While he and the archlich had some history together, it was thin an impersonal. "I'll be of more use making sure that the Lich King can't send out a sally from the Citadel proper."
"Do you think there is a chance he will show in person?" Sylvanas asked, fingering the magic pouch that held her special arrow.
"There is a remote possibility of it happening." Harry admitted, as the master of the Scourge did occasionally take the field. "Probably not, though."
"I don't understand his strategy." Arko shook her head. "He has to know that he can't keep playing defense forever."
"He only has to pull one good ambush and he'll be able to raise all of Azeroth's greatest champions as his undead slaves." Jessir pointed out with a shiver. "Then it won't matter that we've destroyed a huge chunk of his armies. He'll just go out to make more."
"Jessir has the right of it." Harry nodded, then looked around and lowered his voice. "Besides, we didn't destroy as much of it as it looks. Icecrown Citadel is stuffed to the gills with undead, and so is the Nerubian underground. The Lich King has been deliberately giving ground while preserving his forces. My guess would that that they'll swarm up and attack our rear as soon as we commit."
Sylvanas started at that reveal, as did the other girls. All except Sally.
"And you did not share this with the others?" The former Banshee Queen asked, pointing her chin at the Alliance and Horde commanders.
"We could spend years chasing down undead hordes underground and still not get them all." Harry shook his head. "Everyone here knows the importance of guarding the flank and rear, so we won't be caught with our pants down, but more importantly I don't want to give the Lich King any breathing room."
The argument clearly appealed to Sylvanas and she accepted it immediately. "I approve."
"I thought you might." He chuckled. "Keep a sharp eye out, there will probably be more traps waiting for us aside from the pincer."
XXXXX
The Forge of Souls was really nothing more than a massive, narrow canyon carved into the ice. The space was needed because the soul grinders were equally massive constructions, made of saronite and suspended among metal walkways.
With the death of Yogg-Saron, the Old God's coagulated blood had lost some potency, but it was still a durable and dangerous material. The soul grinders would require some effort to destroy, but Harry had provided the tools to do it.
He had provided something else as well. The layout of the Forge of Souls did not really allow for much in the way of fancy tactics. It was a singular path wide enough for perhaps six horses to gallop comfortably side by side. The only available approach was to smash through with brute force.
And when it became clear who all was joining this attack... well, Harry wasn't the only one who could appreciate irony.
Colette swung herself atop her steed, patting the horse-like construct's shadowy neck. A real, living horse couldn't survive this evil place, so Harry had created a magical construct. It was beautiful and she would gladly use it more often in the future.
Turning to her compatriots in this endeavor, she gave them a bright smile. "Just like old times, hmm?"
Alexandros gave her the most sour expression she had ever seen on a man, mounted as he was upon his own steed, which was another horse-golem infused with Holy Light. "Your sense of humor is atrocious. Were speed not of the essence in our task, I would be having words with your husband about this."
"There'd be no point." Jaina sighed, sitting astride her own ice and arcane-themed horse. "That man is too annoying to argue with. That's how I ended up doing this."
"You give him too little credit." Colette gently scolded, but pointedly didn't really refute the sorceress' point. "Still, it is unfortunate that Zeliek could not be here with us. Nothing against you, Jaina darling, but it would have been nice to have the old gang back together."
"Bah, that pansy would just cry the whole time." Thane Korth'azz snorted and made a rude gesture with his scepter. His horse was infused with fire and casual observers would be forgiven for mistaking it for the demonic dreadsteeds of Xoroth. "Are we doin' this or are we reminiscin'?"
"Yes, let us get this over with." Alexandros grimaced.
The four of them lined up their steeds before the entrance to the Forge of Souls. Alexandros on the left, Than Korth'azz to his right, then Jaina, and Colette bringing up the other flank. All four of them were wearing magnificent armor, wielded powerful weapon, and were loaded down with all the blessings and enchantments that the mages, clerics, druids, shamans, and paladins could bring to bear. All of them had imbibed potions to increase their strength and sharpen their minds.
In short, they were as powered up as it was possible to get. Their steeds pawed at the ground, shook their elemental manes and snorted impatiently, acting amazingly lifelike for golems made of metal and magic.
(Unbeknownst to everyone, Harry had infused the life essence of four mighty warhorses into the artificial steeds to give them such a semblance of true life.)
Colette had to stop herself from wiggling in her saddle from sheer anticipation. Her time with the Scourge's Four Horsemen could not, by any means, be called happy, but she had enjoyed their unstoppable cavalry charges.
"We ride!" Alexandros finally called out, raising the Ashbringer into the air as his mount reared up. "CHARGE!"
"Hiyaah!" Colette shouted unnecessarily, as her steed was controlled by her will and magic rather than by verbal commands or spurring. The shadowy horse surged forward, galloping towards the entrance of the Forge of Souls.
Thane let out a whooping laugh as he did the same, but Jaina remained silent. Probably out of embarrassment.
On the surface of it, using the ruler of Theramore as one of the replacement Horsemen made no sense. She was neither a knight or paladin and definitely didn't belong at the head of a cavalry charge, even though Harry had finally managed to convince her to let him make her a suit of armor that would keep at bay both blades and Northrend's brutal climate.
In reality, however, she was an excellent addition because their mission required a powerful archmage and because the elements she wielded complemented them well. Plus, as a highborn noble, she had been taught how to ride, a skill which surprisingly few mages had.
The briefly reformed Four Horsemen thundered past the gawking men and women of the Northrend Offensive, leaving behind trails of shadow, fire, ice, arcane, and consecrated ground. Their faces made Colette laugh in delight even as she pulled deeper on the Void to shroud herself in shadow, her voice turning hollow and menacing as a consequence.
Unlike the narrow Light which would slip away from the grip of its adherents if they became gripped by doubt, the Void accepted all things. The heavy blanket of darkness that laid over her soul burbled hungrily as it was agitated by her wild joy, eager to consume her enemies.
The very moment they passed through the threshold of the Forge of Souls, Colette felt the death ward come into effect, trying to snuff out their lives. This was the reason why they had to finish it fast.
"Bone giants!" Jaina called out in warning, already brandishing her staff at the undead guards.
"Smash through 'em!" Korth'azz hollered, already throwing meteors at them. His scepter, with its direct connection to the Elemental Plane of Fire, made him formidable even in this cold place.
Indeed, that was the plan. They couldn't afford to get bogged down fighting the fodder undead in their way.
Colette brandished her Voidblade and swung, sending out a thin wave of shadow that sliced into one of the bone giants' legs. It toppled over and crawled, still trying to impede them. The others had similarly crippled their own targets and they were able to easily leap over the fallen undead, their artificial horses literally flying over them until they slammed back onto solid ground.
The sound of their hooves thundering over the metal walkway echoed through the Forge of Souls and alerted everyone to their approach, but it didn't matter.
"TRAMPLE THEM!" Alexandros roared as they saw Cult of the Damned spellcasters channeling necromantic magic to maintain the death ward.
As anyone who had fought mages knew, the absolute best time to kill one, aside from in their sleep, was while they were in the middle of a spell that they could not easily disengage from. Maintaining a large and powerful ward most definitely qualified.
Jaina and Korth'azz used their spells to knock the undead guards off their feet, while Alexandros and Colette led the charge, holding their mighty greatswords aloft in preparation.
Bone and rotten flesh was crushed under the adamantine hooves of their horses. Colette swung her Voidblade at a cultist's head, taking the top half off and sending a wave of devouring darkness to consume everything behind him. On the other side, Alexandros simply turned them all to ash. A skeleton or two might have survived by sheer luck, but the cultists all died.
The first soul grinder drew near, and thus so did an ever increasing amount of wraiths.
"Line formation!" Alexandros called out, pulling ahead. The rest of them slow down and maneuvered their horses into a single file. Once that was done, the powerful paladin called upon the Light and used himself as a battering ram through the evil spirits.
The Light burned them and made them recoil, allowing them free passage. As soon as they passed into the soul grinder and the cultists channeling within, they split apart again to more efficiently slaughter them. It took mere seconds to have it done and then they were thundering ahead towards the next one.
Many animated dead and hapless cultists fell to their blades and magic, unable to respond to the blistering speed of their assault. It was less than fifteen minutes into their charge that they were approaching the last and largest soul grinder, where Kel'thuzad and Bronjahm were channeling. The death ward had weakened significantly with so many cultists slaughtered, but it was still dangerous as long as those two continued.
"The Four Horsemen ride again, how quaint." Kel'thuzad's magically augmented voice reached them as they continued galloping across the final stretch. "I did not realize you were so eager to return to my service."
They could not reply even if they were so inclined, but Colette would personally take a great deal of pleasure in breaking the archlich's arrogance.
A barrier of mystical ice sprung up to bar their way into the soul grinder, which indicated that Kel'thuzad had been able to stop channeling power into the death ward. Unfortunate, but not beyond expectation.
"Our turn, lassy!" Korth'azz hollered, already conjuring fire.
"Right!" Jaina replied firmly, channeling vast arcane power through Aluneth. With a cry of effort, she launched the counterspell at the ice barricade to strip it of magical resistance. Moments later, a fireball from Korth'azz reduced it to melting fragments.
Behind it was another barrier, this time one of the Void fissures that Kel'thuzad liked to use as a means of keeping attackers at bay.
"My turn!" Colette sing-songed, taking the lead. Calling upon the darkened naaru heart in her sword, she released a wave of shadow with a swing, creating a bridge across the fissure.
Just in time for the four of them to leap through.
"What?!" Kel'thuzad exclaimed in surprise at his spell being foiled.
"Hmph, dabbler." Colette sniffed disdainfully.
And that was what he was in the end. Kel'thuzad was a powerful necromancer and frost mage, but where the Void was concerned her knew very little. His petty tricks were no match for a true priestess of the Dark.
He didn't have time to reply, busy as he was fending off Jaina's spells. Around him were helpless cultists holding up the last vestiges of the death ward, led by Bronjahm.
"Hiyaah!" Colette urged her steed forward, brandishing her sword. She saw the panic in the cultist's face as she lopped his head off, sensing Korth'azz and Alexandros cutting down the others.
"You will pay for that!" Kel'thuzad promised, conjuring ice and calling upon numerous wraiths to aid him against Jaina.
"Ye'll be the one payin', ya bonebag!" Korth'azz hollered back angrily, leading his horse into a circular charge around the archlich, raining meteors and flaming smites upon him. "I've got a grudge to settle, and by Khaz'Goroth's hammer I mean to settle it!"
"This is the end for you, lich!" Alexandros declared grimly, also circling around him. Holy Light radiated from him and he periodically closed in to swing at the archlich.
"Your master has abandoned you." Colette pointed out gleefully, charging just behind Alexandros and taking opportunities to strike that he missed.
"The Kirin Tor made a mistake letting you live, a mistake I'm going to fix." Jaina finished. She, too, was galloping in circles around him, countering his spells and frustrating his ability to defend himself.
"No, this is not how it ends!" Kel'thuzad was unable to feel panic, but he was definitely concerned. This new variant of the Four Horsemen was stronger than his original idea and he was barely able to keep them at bay, much less mount a counter attack.
The wraiths he had summoned were not nearly as effective as he had hoped, their incorporeal forms unable to stand before the charge of the elemental steeds or the powers of their wielders. He had far less resources to call upon here than he'd once had in Naxxramas, as his only task had been to maintain the death ward.
His doom came as he froze one of Jaina's summoned water elementals and then barely reacted fast enough to block a spray of molten rock conjured by Korth'azz. That left him open to a devastating hit from the Ashbringer, followed immediately by a slash by the Voidblade.
His powers disrupted, he was unable to defend against a powerful Arcane Blast from Jaina. It was followed immediately by a meteor from Korth'azz and then more physical attacks by Alexandros and Colette. He simply couldn't keep up.
"NOOOOoooo….!" Kel'thuzad's voice faded away as his physical body fell apart, the necromantic energies sustaining him disappearing. A dark, incorporeal mist was pulled into an ornate, skull-encrusted container. They all immediately recognized it as the lich's phylactery.
"Alexandros, catch!" Colette called out, sending a weak shadow bolt at the bottom of the phylactery to launch it into the air towards the paladin.
He was a veteran of many battles and immediately realized her intention. With a roar that held all the anger he had for Kel'thuzad, both righteous and personal, he swung the Ashbringer. The phylactery shattered under the power of the blow, and Kel'thuzad's soul faded out of the mortal world with a final whimper.
"That did him in!" Korth'azz chuckled happily. "Wasn't even that tough."
Colette wasn't going to point out how much they had stacked the deck in their favor. Nobody liked a party pooper.
"We are not yet done." Alexandros said, already bringing his steed around. "The Devourer of Souls awaits. Charge!"
"Hiyaah!"
As they rushed towards the final battle of this delightful excursion, Colette brought her steed close to Jaina and leaned over to speak to her. "Was it as good for you as it was for me? I'm still tingling!"
The young archmage gave her a look that was deadpan even through the helmet. "Don't make this weird."
XXXXX
The Devourer of Souls was not meant for combat, so it was easily destroyed. With everything of importance in the Forge of Souls re-killed, there was only one thing left to do.
The temporarily remade Four Horsemen turned their steeds around and galloped back, this time across the air. Of course Harry had given them the ability to do that. Why wouldn't he? The only reason they hadn't flown on the way in was because they'd needed to slaughter their way through the Cult of the Damned.
Airborne, they had a perfect view of the now inoperable soul grinders. They looked like giant funnels, sucking in souls and spitting them out at the bottom after they'd been wrung of power. Conveniently, this also made it very easy to drop in grenades if you happened to have saddlebags full of them on your flying horse.
Volatile and disruptive energies tore apart the vile machines, sending them falling in pieces deep into the icy chasm below. After the Lich King was slain and his influence removed, a combined effort from priests, shamans, druids, and mages would be invested to fully destroy the saronite. For now, it was enough to simply wreck everything.
The four of them burst out of the Forge of Souls and ran towards the Light's Hammer basecamp, where the majority of the Northrend Offensive's most powerful were pushing back a tide of undead trying to prevent them from fortifying their position.
It wasn't going so well for the Scourge. The battlefield was too narrow for their weight of numbers to really come into play and the forces of the living were comprised entirely of mighty champions. The only thing that seemed to be causing problems was the suicide bombers, undead specifically designed to explode in a vicious blast of blighted pus and bone fragments. It made pushing too close to the gates of Icecrown Citadel a dangerous proposition.
However, the fighting receded even as the Horsemen approached, the tide of undead tapering off and the gates remaining ominously open. It was as clear a challenge as could be.
Colette landed her steed next to Harry, who kept his eyes on the gates and didn't relax, although the howling tornado he had been conjuring faded away.
"How did it go?" She asked, taking off her helmet.
Harry finally looked at her and took of his own helmet. "He didn't send out anything or anyone important, a token force. What about you?"
"Oh, they put up a fight." Colette felt a smile pull at her face as she remembered the desperate and futile struggles of the Cult of the Damned. "I'm in the mood for some life-affirming sex to celebrate this beautiful bit of revenge. How about you take me home and fuck me bowlegged?"
Harry quirked an eyebrow and gave a quick look around. "I suppose we can slip away for a few minutes."
Which would actually be several days thanks to the time dilation. Ah, what a convenient bit of magic.
XXXXX
The problem of having a fighting force comprised entirely of heroes and champions was that they tended to have an ego. Almost everyone wanted to be part of the final assault instead of staying behind to guard the rear. Some spots at the front were guaranteed, and others were politically influential enough to elbow their way in.
Everyone else had to get lucky. Harry had seriously needed to trot out the concept of a lottery to decide the matter expediently, and could only hope that some dipshit goblin didn't hear about it and realize its scamming potential.
"Ah, what cruel fortune, to be denied the chance to bring the fiendish Lich King to justice!" Highlord Leoric von Zeldig lamented dramatically as the last spot in the assault team was filled up. "But if it is the will of the Light that I guard your backs, then you may be assured that not a single foe will slip past me for as long as I draw breath! We will fight to the last man if need be!"
"Not like you'll have a choice." Harry grumbled quietly to himself and rolled his eyes. They were walking into an encirclement and gambling on being able to take down the Lich King before they were overwhelmed, obviously there would be no room for retreat.
But the paladin's enthusiasm drew the attention of another pair of melodramatic personalities.
"By the light of the moon…" Alytess began.
"… and the sacred shadow," Sacrolash added.
"WE SHALL PREVAIL!" Luna also joined in at the end.
The former demons were one of the few who volunteered for rearguard duty, being wise enough to know that they would be more useful there. They did, however, pout at having to wear more than bikinis.
"At least they're good for morale."
It was amazing what kind of effect a bit of enthusiasm could have. Even the people who cringed in secondhand embarrassment from watching the four of them make increasingly ridiculous statements while posing had small smiles pulling on their faces.
With the final disposition of force decided, the only thing left to do was organize themselves.
The Battle Harem, of course, already had well-defined roles. Harry would generally be on the offense, but would also keep an eye out for problem areas to reinforce. Luna was on support. Arko and Colette were frontliners, and Jessir was to keep an eye out for priority targets.
Sylvanas would be with sharing a job with Jessir for the most part, but her true job would be to use her special arrow on the Lich King when the opportunity presented itself.
Jaina would be on battlefield control for the most part, as her frost magic specialty wasn't great at doing damage against the undead.
Other notable participants were Muradin Bronzebeard, Alexandros Mograine, Tirion Fordring, Varok Saurfang, Drannosh Saurfang, Garrosh Hellscream, and Sally Whitemane. Everyone else was a bunch of randoms that won the lottery.
Many people wondered why Harry had insisted on including the zealous crusader, but were largely pacified with the explanation that her wielding the powers of Light's Wrath would speed their advance. None suspected that he had ulterior motives.
XXXXX
Icecrown Citadel had a fairly basic interior design, but it was effective and really conveyed what the Scourge was all about. Dark stone and saronite architecture, braziers burning with cold blue-black fire, skulls everywhere, the ground paved with bones and ice, spider webs hanging from every corner,…
Truly, it was a dedicated theme.
Harry kept his opinion to himself as they fought their way through the entrance hall. It was a long stretch with no bends and no room for fancy tactics, forcing invaders to slog it out with the defenders. Said defenders were comprised of strong-ish armored skeletons, undead nerubians, and more of those extremely annoying suicide ghouls.
Progress was steady, but it was indeed a slog. They had to fight for every step and maintain constant focus to make sure that no nasty surprises were lobbed over the front line, or that no nerubians managed to flank them by crawling over the walls and ceiling. The oppressive atmosphere certainly didn't make it any easier.
He's intending to tire us out.
It was an easy guess to make, as it was what Harry would do in the Lich King's place. One of the greatest advantages the undead had against the living was the lack of need for food and rest. If the Lich King could stall out their advance long enough, then they would be in no shape to fight him. And the expected attack from the rear would force them to press onward instead of doing this in stages. There was a reason that anyone besieging a castle feared a relief force coming upon them.
It was unfortunate that becoming undead didn't rob one of tactical or strategic prowess, and Arthas had by all accounts been an accomplished commander before taking up Frostmourne.
It took them nearly an hour to fight their way to the first big challenge, Lord Marrowgar. An abomination pieced together from a thousand vanquished soldiers and adventurers, it was a recent addition to the ranks of the Scourge and one clearly desgiend as a taunt.
Harry had to give credit for the skill involved in Marrowgar's creation. This was far more advanced than the brute force necromancy that had characterized the Lich King's earlier creations. The magic employed by the Scourge had been evolving rapidly, too rapidly to risk giving him any more time.
"This is the beginning and the end, mortals! None may enter the Master's sanctum!" Marrowgar declared, his multi-toned voice shivering through the air. "The Scourge will wash over this world in a tide of death and darkness!"
"It is the beginning of the end, abomination, for you!" Tirion Fordring declared, making passable banter. "Bring it down quickly!"
Harry ignored the massive bone wraith, knowing that the others would be able to handle it easily enough. Though it was made from a thousand people, it did not have their combined power. Much was lost in the transition as their souls were stripped away and their bodies fused together. What concerned him were the crenellated balconies ringing Marrowgar's chamber, and the curved double staircase leading up to the next level, which he knew held the main temple of the Cult of the Damned where they worshiped the Lich King. Every undead that moved through Icecrown Citadel had to pass through it and grovel to their master as if he was a god. More importantly, that meant that a large number of Scourge spellcasters, acting as priests, would have a superior tactical position to hurl spells down on them while they were busy with Marrowgar.
Thanks to the Discs of Norgannon, they had detailed maps of Icecrown Citadel, so this wasn't a surprise and they were prepared for it. Harry, Jaina and several other casters immediately began blocking off the balconies. Whether it was by conjuring ice blocks, tossing expanding alchemical goop up there, or some other means, they swiftly blocked off that potential problem.
Of course, the opposition didn't just shrug and concede defeat. As the battle against Marrowgar heated up, the goop blocking the largest balcony was flash frozen, shattered, and then disintegrated. A large skeletal form draped in vaguely feminine robes and decorative chains floated forward.
"Blasphemers, you dare trespass on this hallowed ground?" The lich asked rhetorically, though the indignation was real.
"Anita!" Harry interrupted her spiel with an overly familiar address. "Girl, I know you were a bit chubby, but you took the dieting way too far, you're all skin and bones."
The incongruity of it all made the lich stumble mentally. His allies had fortunately been warned of what he was intending, even if they thought him insane.
"I AM LADY DEATHWHISPER!" The lich shouted angrily.
"None of that, Miss Smithers." Harry retorted sternly, putting on his best teacher voice. "Just because you were a failure of a mage is no reason to be making up edgy names and joining up with dark lords."
The Discs of Norgannon were a truly unfair advantage when you wanted to fuck with someone.
It was unfortunate that being a lich meant lacking the proper organs to feel the physical component of emotions, so the self-declared Lady Deathwhiser recovered quite quickly. "You, I know you. You are the blasphemer dares practice the sacred art of necromancy without the Master's guidance or blessing. Have you no shame?!"
"Not really." Harry admitted, throwing a quick eye on the battle they were both ignoring. It was going pretty well despite the reinforcements streaming from deeper in the Citadel. Him keeping the lich talking was hurting the Scourge more than them. "I mean, why should I seek the blessing of some young whippersnapper that doesn't even have a century under his belt? I've been practicing necromancy for a thousand years already."
Technically. His forays into necromancy had been mostly spiritual, rather than the 'defile the dead and conquer the world' kind. And it wasn't a constant thing. Based solely on hours invested into it, the Lich King probably had him beat by now.
"LIES!" Lady Deathwhisper shouted. "The Master is eternal, his power without limit, his will unbending!"
Sensing that this little distraction had run its course, Harry concluded it with a bang. "You should have just gotten married and stayed in the kitchen like your parents wanted, Anita. This is embarrassing."
Liches don't have biological eyes anymore, so they could not be said to bulge with rage. However, the cold blue glow in the empty eyesockets intensified. The angry shriek also indicated that a nerve might have been struck.
The self-proclaimed Lady Deathwhisper opened up by surrounding herself in a mana barrier. That was… extremely stupid. Sure, it would block most spells and physical attacks, but it put enormous strain on the caster. It was the kind of defense only a powerful, but inept, caster would use because they lacked the skill to counter an opponent's spells or cast more efficient shields.
As expected of the former Anita Smithers, bumbling apprentice with anger issues and an inferiority complex about her appearance. The Discs of Norgannon did not reveal why a person did a thing, but Harry could guess. The Cult of the Damned had no doubt found fertile soil in the mind of someone who hated her body, hated the people around her, and wanted to be special.
He punished the move by hurling a Mana Burn at her. A mainstay of Illidari demon hunters, the Mana Burn ignited the target's magic, burning the soul and causing psychosomatic burns to appear on the body. It would have been a useless spell in a low magic density world like Earth, but on Azeroth it was devastating. Doubly so when the target was fool enough to deploy raw power as a shield instead of shaping it into a proper spell.
Deathwhisper flinched as the spell struck, but refused to drop the barrier. Then she cast Death and Decay on the entire group. A very common spell among the Scourge, known to pretty much every death knight, lich, and remotely competent necromancer. The death ward that the Forge of Souls had been maintaining was essentially this spell writ large.
Harry kept casting Mana Burn on her, trusting Luna and the other clerics to handle the D&D. Which they did, although admittedly with some difficulty due to the oppressively necromantic atmosphere of Icecrown Citadel.
"Enough!" Deathwhisper shouted, giving up on trying to overpower the divine casters blocking her. Or perhaps she was alarmed by the rapid depletion of her strength. Either way, she hurled a volley of frostbolts at Harry to get him to stop.
Unlike the lich, he didn't need to rely on something as clumsy as a mana barrier to defend him. The frostbolts were cast with some power, but they were ultimately a very simple spell that he had plenty of experience with. It took him mere moments to dismantle the magic, making the frostbolts vanish back into the Elemental Plane of Water.
He retaliated with another Mana Burn, since Deathwhisper was apparently determined to keep that giant glaring weakness up. When a woman exposes herself to you like that, it was rude to ignore it.
"SUBMIT!" The lich yelled, sending forward a telepathic hammer to bludgeon him into compliance.
"No." Harry replied amusedly, feeling the attack shatter against his mental defenses. Even if he wasn't a master of the Mind Arts, his divine domain would have rendered the effort pointless. "Just give up, girly. No matter how far you run or who you grovel to, at your core you will always be chubby and stupid Anita Smithers."
You know your life is weird when bullying the undead was a viable combat strategy.
"NO!" Deathwhisper howled, recovering from the psychic backlash of her failed attempt at mental domination. "Arise, faithful! Exult in our master's power and destroy these intruders!"
Harry frowned behind his helmet as the lich channeled her power into the ghouls, nerubians, bone wraiths and Cult of the Damned casters on the battlefield. Unlike the rest of her repertoire, this was actually dangerous and the primary reason why he had been trying to keep her focused on him.
Lady Deathwhisper wasn't just a lich, she was also a religious fanatic that genuinely believed that the Lich King was a god and acted the role of his high priestess. Unfortunately, sincere belief was a power unto itself. Especially when more people bought into it.
The undead around them surged in strength, a fresh wave of necromantic energies empowering them. The previously orderly battle abruptly became considerably more precarious.
"Need help, Harry?" Jaina offered, for the moment still focusing her spells on Marrowgar and the hordes of undead trying to overwhelm them.
"No, I got this." He assured, hurling Mana Burns at the lich with renewed intensity. Deathwhisper's undead nature, the location, and the belief of those who joined the Scourge willingly gave her immense reserves of strength compared to a normal caster, but she was still an idiot that didn't know how to make proper use of it.
The Mana Barrier broke and Deathwhisper staggered from the backlash. Harry took the chance and hurled himself at her, bladestaff held high. The lich had frittered away her power and only managed a few weak frostbolts that splashed harmlessly against his armor. The Azerite blade easily cleaved through enchanted cloth, bone, and the necromantic energies holding her together. With a mournful moan, the lich faded away, her mind dragged back to the phylactery that was no doubt held deeper in the Citadel.
Without their high priestess, the thinking undead faltered, the empowerment faded, and they were put thoroughly on the backfoot. Marrowgar, who had already been looking more than a little banged up as the paladins and warriors chipped away at him, was overwhelmed and destroyed shortly after.
"Excellently done!" Tirion Fordring praised everyone, catching his breath. "I admit that I had some doubts about your strategy, Lord Harry, but it worked marvelously."
"Nothing is quite so fragile as the delusions of those who seek to impose their faults upon the world." Harry replied sagely.
"Bah, wizards." Garrosh Hellscream sneered at his wisdom.
"We should press on." Varok Saurfang interjected. "It was a good start, but we still have much to do."
Everyone agreed with that and they ascended the stairs to the upper level. Some straggler undead continued to harass them, but there was nothing that could truly challenge them. It took some thirty minutes of marching on before they reached the place where Lady Deathwhisper usually hung out.
"It looks like a church." One of the clerics muttered, both confused and somewhat insulted.
"It is a church." Harry confirmed. "The Cult of the Damned is more than just a name these days – they are an actual religious cult and the Lich King is their god."
"Blasphemy, and madness." A paladin scoffed. "Such an abomination could never be a god."
"Don't be so quick to dismiss it." Harry warned. "If the Scourge succeeds in conquering Azeroth, then apotheosis is entirely within the Lich King's grasp."
"He intends to become a god?!" Sylvanas hissed angrily.
"Probably, he certainly has all the ingredients set up for it." Harry nodded. "No pressure, though. It's not like us failing here will cause the barriers between life and death to collapse and condemn every soul on it to eternal slavery under the Lich King's iron heel."
His sarcasm was clearly not appreciated, but everyone looked grimly determined to give it their all, which was what he'd wanted. Even Hellscream looked as if it was finally dawning on him that this wasn't about him and his daddy issues.
XXXXX
After passing through the church, they had to fight their way past more undead until they made it up to the ramparts of Icecrown Citadel.
There were two reasons why they hadn't just skipped that entire mess and simply flown up here in the first place. Number one was that leaving enemies at your back was stupid. Number two was that it wasn't so easy. Similar to Karazhan and the Guardian Tower, Icecrown Citadel was ever so slightly dimensionally shifted. Flying up to the ramparts wouldn't lead to the same place as going up the 'proper' way.
As soon as they made it up there, they were able to see the vast hordes of undead spilling from beneath the ground and beyond the horizon, all converging on the fortifications of Light's Hammer. Gargoyles, frostwyrms, and other flyers shrieked across the skies, contested by Alliance and Horde airships, as well as AA cannons emplaced below.
Thanks to certain events not happening, tensions between the two factions were much lower and there was no stupid infighting while they were on their shared enemy's doorstep.
"By the Light, how can there still be so many?" Tirion Fordring asked faintly.
"The undead hordes always seem endless." Mograine rumbled.
"'E must be throwin' everythin' he has at us." Muradin Bronzebeard grinned fiercely. "Means 'e's desperate."
"Best conserve your strength, we won't get a chance to rest." Harry advised and they moved on.
The rampart wall was as thick with undead as the insides, but here they also had to contend with flyers that got past the airships. More annoyingly, the circular nature of the ramparts meant that they were getting attacked from all sides.
Hellscream roared and threw himself at the enemy in a frenzy of axe blows. For a change, that was actually the correct strategy, as they really couldn't afford to get bogged down.
Harry stayed at the back, making use of his old grenade launcher to gum up the flyers and coat the floor in ultra super glue. Destroying all these undead was certainly possible, but largely not worth the effort.
The path to the next level of Icecrown Citadel was long, winding, absolutely riddled with gatehouses and defensive fortifications and fixed siege weapons, heavily garrisoned, and all around an absolute chore to get through. It took almost three hours before they slogged their way through it all, and it drained more of their strength than the fights against Marrowgar and Deathwhisper could have hoped to do.
Harry hated it when his enemies were smart, but this was an excellent defensive design. And because it was an excellent defensive design, he was not surprised when the gate into the deeper reaches of the Citadel was guarded by another of the Lich King's most powerful servants. All the while they were still being hounded from the air and the back.
"Foolish invaders, this is as far as you go." The powerful death knight rasped grimly.
"Sir Zeliek." Colette said mournfully. "You see, this is what you get for going on a penitent crusade all by your lonesome."
"The Lich King has shown me the truth. You will return to the Scourge, Lady Blaumeux. All will serve the Master." The once again death knight Sir Zeliek, missing member of the Four Horsemen, intoned hollowly.
"That isn't really him, is it?" Colette asked, pointedly turning away from the enemy to address Harry. "The real Sir Zeliek would be bemoaning his fate and imploring us to either destroy him or flee."
"Nope, just a soulless shell. He got killed by Frostmourne this time around." Harry nodded sagely. "That being said, the Lich King has improved his technique for creating death knights and imbued this one with extraordinary power. He's going to be trouble."
"Bah! No single human can withstand the might of the Horde!" Hellscream roared and charged. Several hotheaded Horde warriors followed behind him, demonstrating defective survival instincts.
A wave of frost froze their legs to the ground before they could reach him
"Succumb to the cold dark." Zeliek demanded hollowly, an intense chill beginning to emanate from him.
It was so cold that Harry felt it trying to freeze the blood under the skin of his face despite his helmet being enchanted to block out that kind of environmental hazard. The dragonhide latex undersuits protected the rest of his body, but only the Battle Harem has that bit of protection. Even Jaina had flatly refused to accept it despite the advantages, stubborn girl that she was. In short, if this fight dragged on, they were fucked.
And then, of course, the swarms and hordes of the Scourge resumed their relentless attacks. The fact that they had stopped long enough for banter to be exchanged was kind of ridiculous, but well in line with the theatrical bent previously demonstrated by the Lich King.
Harry wasn't sure if that was a leftover from Ner'Zhul or Arthas or just something everyone on Azeroth did, but it never failed to give him a chuckle.
"Sally, do the thing!" He shouted, already turning to face the death knight. "Girls with me, we have to bring him down quick! Everyone else engage him at range or help Sally!"
The former inquisitor shouted back a confirmation and slammed the butt of Light's Wrath into the ground. Violent pulses of Light radiated from her with every shout of effort, scorching most of the undead coming at them. The larger ones, such as the frostwyrms, needed more effort, but it was doing the job of keeping the hordes off their back.
Harry, meanwhile, used a Free Action spell, boosted by his divine domain, to free the orcs even as his wives moved to engage close in. As expected, the cold got worse the closer they got, but with it only able to affect their heads it couldn't leech the warmth out of their blood with any real speed.
Despite not really being in charge, everyone present was experienced enough to heed the order on the assumption that he knew what he was talking about. All except one particular orc.
"LOK'TAR OGAR!" Hellscream roared, charging in again, Gorehowl screaming as it carved through the air.
Like everyone else, he was wearing fully-enclosed plate armor. Harry had insisted on it and forged new suits and helmets for anyone that didn't already have gear that served the function of protecting them even from things other than weapons. The nature of this attack was far too dangerous for anything else.
Hellscream had hated the idea of wearing anything that Harry made for him as a matter of course, but had been browbeaten into it by Thrall and Varok Saurfang. As such, when Gorehowl was blocked and his leg smashed with the death knight's warhammer, he was not immediately taken out of the fight.
But Zeliek's greatest weapons were not his warhammer.
"Your rage will cool." The death knight declared as Hellscream went down, frost visibly creeping up his body.
That such a hit even landed was testament to how dangerous the cold aura was, but Colette and Arko arrived just in time to save him. Meanwhile, Harry came up to the angry asshole and cast a modified blood boiling spell on him. It wasn't a curse, so it slipped past the magic resistance and fought some of the chill. But as expected, Hellscream still needed a few moments to pull himself together.
"Are you fucking deaf? I told you to get away from him." He hissed angrily. "Go get healed, we've got this."
Hellscream was too busy breathing hard to do more than glare and Harry had no time for him. For now, Arko and Colette were keeping up the pressure, but the death knight was playing pure defense and letting his aura do the work. With Hellscream's fat ass out of the way, the archers and mages could also take shots at him.
Zeliek was guaranteed to lose but would it be fast enough? Every second that the cold aura was up was another second that everyone's blood chilled. He knew how quickly that sapped strength even without a supernatural component and they still had a long fight ahead of them.
"Your defeat is inevitable." Zeliek intoned. His armor was dinged and littered with small rents, he had arrows sticking out of his joints. The marks of spellfire were minimal, because he kept using anti-magic barriers to block them.
"Elune's wrath destroy you!" Arko shouted, her greatsword blazing with moonlight as it cleaved towards him.
The shield came up to block it, frost runes lighting up as it tanked the blow. Just a small grlimpse told him that they were defensively oriented.
"You shouldn't hold out on a lady, Zeliek." Colette tried to go for flirty as she swung towards the death knight's leg, her Voidblade shining darker than the night, but there was a hint of frustration in her tone.
The warhammer swooped down to parry it, halting its momentum. More runes glowed on it, similar to the ones on the shield. Everything about this encounter was designed to prolong it.
"May I join this dance?" Harry asked politely as he circled around to attack Zeliek from behind. The death knight had been maneuvering to keep Arko and Colette doing that very thing, but it was much harder to do against three people than two.
They took the opportunity and attacked at once, occupying their foe. That left the death knight unable to do anything except try to twist so that the Azerite blade of Atiesh didn't stab into him directly. It was somewhat successful, though it still opened a long rent on the armor.
Before any further attacks could be landed on Zeliek, a massive roar shook the air.
That was nothing strange, as battles like this were filled with screaming and roaring. The difference was that this was the Hellscream™ which inevitably preceded the arrival of a muscleheaed orc that was too angry to think straight.
Harry had only a moment to see that Hellscream had decided that he wasn't going to be relegated to fighting minions after getting healed and had decided to take a massive running leap towards Zeliek, Gorehowl raised high.
"MOVE!" He yelled at Arko and Colette, because said orc had clearly not factored them into his trajectory.
Harry certainly wasn't going to risk getting bowled over either, so he backed off as well.
Zeliek, on the other hand, did not. Instead, he braced himself to receive the meat projectile, shield braced for impact and warhammer held at the ready.
Gorehowl broke through the metal and Garrosh immediately tried to yank it away.
Zeliek simply let go, making the orc stumble as the expected resistance failed to materialize. The runic warhammer came around to smash right into his chest. Normally that wouldn't have been anything close to enough to put someone like Hellscream down, but the danger wasn't in the force of the blow – it was in the deathly chill it pumped into his heart.
Harry couldn't spare the time to try helping him and he was quite frankly not inclined to do so. Hellscream was a great warrior, but he was trouble. Having him die heroically (read: idiotically) was an acceptable outcome even if they lost his services for the rest of the battle. He'd leave it up to fate.
Meanwhile, the suicidal attack had robbed Zeliek of his shield, which wad easily been the most troublesome thing about him. Without it, he was not able to defend himself nearly as well and was quickly whittled down by him, Arko, and Colette.
"It… is… over." He rasped out as he fell, the necromantic magic animating him finally giving out.
"Someone grab that fucking idiot and let's get inside!" Harry shouted at the others, who were still fighting off the swarms He lent his own magic to the defense while they made an orderly retreat deeper into the Citadel.
Once they were past the doors, he proceeded to basically empty his pockets. Dozens of alchemical goop grenades were thrown to fill up the doorway, then came the other stuff he had prepared for exactly this moment. Multiple arcanite nets, rune-engraved stone blocks, about two hundred hitless sword blades, glittering silver powder blessed by Elune against the undead, and some other random crap that just happened to be in there – all of it was thrown into the goop to make it that much harder to get through.
"See them try to dig through that." Harry muttered, turning back to the rest of the group. It was hard to tell through all the armor, but they were all starting to show signs of strain despite all the preparation.
"Can he still fight?" Varok Saurfang demanded, staring at Hellscream. Judging by the tone of his voice, the old orc was not impressed.
"The hit froze the blood in his heart and the cold almost shut down his body." Luna reported, having taken over the healing. "He's pretty strong, so he'll be fine in a bit! Any more cold shocks and he'll probably die, though!"
Yes, Harry was just now feeling his face thaw out. What a nasty ability that had been.
"Doesn't matter." He intoned solemnly. "We have but one choice – we must face the long dark of Moria."
"Lord of the Rings reference!" Luna shouted, pointing at him.
"You're going to have to show us these things you're referencing one day." Jessir grumbled good-naturedly.