(59) - The Tarnishing Of the Silverlaines

((What-if stuff on what if Arthas won?))

Aurenox sneered at the figures surrounding him. "You are hardly fit to live, let alone stand in judgment of me!" he sneered at them. "Where is your precious Dark now? Your guild mistress dead, the Burning Legion defeated in the Sunwell Plateau?"

He laughed all the way to the altar, where he was securely chained. He seemed remarkably unconcerned that his was to be a painful, lingering death; that they intended to sacrifice him to their Darkness slowly, using their knowledge of haruspicy to divine omens in his living entrails.

"Did not the fate of The Great Lord," he ranted, "teach you nothing?"

"Death is only the beginning!"

======================

When the attack came, Dalmilandril was leading a patrol to Tyr's Hand, to reinforce the the Scarlet Hold in New Avalon. Weeks ago, he had been recalled to his position within the Crusade, his reports of the activities of the Crimson Horizon having dribbled to nothing - there was nothing to report, after all, except that the witch Aislin seemed sincerely dedicated to building a bastion of knowledge. It had been a relief, knowing that he had not had to lie in his reports - and he would have, had there been any deeper game to report.

Spying for Keruptis among the paladins of the Golden Hand. Spying for the self-styled Ashbringer, Mikaylus, from within the Scarlet Crusade. Spying for both the Grand Inquisitor and Leahalani on the change in the Crimson Horizon.

The onslaught of the Death Knights and their Scourge minions had caught them by surprise, and they were swiftly overwhelmed. Dalmilandril's last thoughts before he faded into blackness was his cousin Griffonclaw's voice, singing.

We spill out lots of our blood and hopes and tears
Resisting their shadow bolts, hellfire and fears
They think they can roll us up without a fight
Oh no no no I'm a Paladin
Paladins, holding back the Scourge in Lordaeron

"Light damn him... why did he have to be right?" he thought, before consciousness left him.

======================

MacLhir sang at night for the money, and then slept perhaps two hours in the wee hours of the morning.

Grave-robbing had been a new low for MacLhir, but when he had heard the news of her passing, he could not just leave it... like that. She had been special, the first of her kind, and with the exception of her Mother, nobody knew her as well as MacLhir.

She could be repaired, if he could just learn enough. If he could just make the right connections. If he could... prove himself worthy, he could see her again, hear that voice.

Already, he thought if he listened carefully, he could almost hear her, telling him what to fix. And Tilly's voice, too...

======================

Griffonclaw stood at Tirion's side at Light's Hope Chapel, exhausted and weary, although more in spirit than in body.

His daughter was dead. She had fallen like a true Paladin on the hills of Lordareon, and Griffonclaw had bled in North Tides Hollow to bury her remains next to his mother and sister's graves; he had tried to speak to Tilly, but she had ranted at him, placed the death of their daughter firmly on his shoulders. "She had to be like YOU! Well damn you, paladin, damn you and yours to the Twisting Nether!" had been her last words before she had vanished into the Ironforge mountains and her lab.

Griffonclaw had himself placed the stone, translated into Gnomish.

Demolitia my Daughter
Done to death by Duty
Uther smiles down on You
A Parent should never outlive the Child

Tirion had sent him orders to rendezvous at Light's Hope Chapel, to consult with the leadership if the Argent Dawn. While they had prepared for a crusade to Northrend, Arthas had been building forces for an invasion in one of those damned floating cities, hidden from Alliance eyes by the Scarlet Crusade.

The Scarlet Crusade had been their first target, and now - once again - the Order of the Silver Hand would fight on two fronts.

When the horde -- no relation -- of Death Knights poured down on Light's Hold Chapel, Griffonclaw fought on Tirion's left flank, focusing on warding his Lord from the onslaught, until he heard his name called out.

"Squire Griffonclaw! Attend me, boy!" came the shout from the enemy lines, and Griffonclaw turned, half-expectant, and half-fearful. Standing out from their lines was a human, long since corrupted in the service of Arthas, his sworn liege.

"Come, Dane... come to my service once more," the unholy creature spoke, his voice thundering with unnatural volume. "You served me well in Lordareon, hunting orcs who had escaped from the camps, at Brill and Andorhal... so you lost your nerve at Stratholme, and turned to the traitor Uther... I forgive you, Dane. Come - its clear you have grown in power" The spectral knight extended his black-gauntleted hand. "Come, and ride by my side again, Dane Silverlaine!"

Some say that it was the last push on a mind that had been pushed beyond care or judgment. Some that it was a great act of courage, and re-affirmation of the Light and its principles. Others that Griffonclaw sought death at that moment, having seen too much of it for far too long.

He charged the Death Knight once know to him as Sir Khalven Brightspur, who had chosen to follow his Prince in the slaughter of Stratholme.

Had this been a story of bards, the fight between Sir Khalven and his squire would have been between the two of them, and Light would have stood against the Unholy power of the Scourge; this was fought in less than a minute, with Griffonclaw overwhelmed in seconds by Scourge minion and Death Knight power.

Griffonclaw would not see the hardened features of Tirion as one of the first sworn to the new Order was struck down, nor know that one lone tear that Tirion shed that day in silence was for him. He would not see Tirion confront the army's leader, Darion Mograine. He would not stand with Tirion as Arthas himself took the field, incapacitating Tirion with his foul sorcery. He would not see Darion throw the corrupted sword Ashbringer to Tirion, purifying the blade in Darion's act of selflessness, and breaking the spell that held Tirion. He would not see Arthas run from the field, driven by the uniting of the Order of the Silver Hand and Argent Dawn, now allied with the Death Knights that had betrayed their Lord, the Knights of the Ebon Blade, broken from Arthas' control, pledged to seek his destruction lest Arthas repay them in kind.

The third death of Dane "Griffonclaw" Silverlaine would be his final one.