Azeroth's Skies

by TerrabreakerX


Borean Tundra, Part I


The Scourge attacked one final time that day, as dusk rolled in across the deep. Eight Platoon held the wall; the undead were driven back one last time, and the day was saved. They filed back into their billets, stowed their gear and collapsed into their bunks for as much rest as they could get - before the dawn, and their departure.

Dawn broke just as they departed the keep, both platoons having arisen early to conduct the very last of their preparations before then departing perfectly on time.

As mornings in Northrend went it was no worse than any of the others they had experienced, and a heavy rain during the night had hopefully put paid to the prospects of anymore for the foreseeable future. The sky was overcast, but not threatening.

“A reasonable day for a march,” Issha commented. She and Twilight stood together a little distance from their platoons, waiting for the signal from the sentries to confirm that it was safe to move. “Elune be praised.”

“Let’s hope it holds up,” Twilight said, “and that we don’t get ambushed an hour out of the gate.”

“After the defeat the new arrivals handed them an hour ago, I rather doubt it.” Two new support platoons had arrived the day before, to replace Twilight’s and Issha’s departing forces. “They will lick their wounds and be back, but not before we are safely into the tundra.”

“It certainly sounds safe.” Twilight grimaced, shivering a little in a way that was clearly not related to the cold, and which Issha did not fail to spot.

She put a lithe hand on the mage’s shoulder, and said, kindly, “Your first march is always the hardest. Look after them, and they will look after you.”

“…I just hope I can keep them all safe,” Twilight whispered.

“You will do fine,” Issha said, but before she could offer any further words of reassurance, one of the sentries came running up to them.

“Ma’ams,” he saluted. The Watch-Captain is satisfied that the threat out there is minimal. You may proceed when ready.”

They thanked him, and he made his way back off in the direction of the walls. Then the two turned to face each other again, and Issha said, “It is I who will depart first, then. Farewell, Twilight Sparkle, and may Elune watch over you.” She held out her hand.

Twilight took it, wrapping her fingers around the elf’s long, gaunt ones. “The same to you, Issha Duskwind. Until we meet again.”

They let go, and Issha walked over to her platoon, spoke briefly with them, then marched out without a backwards glance. They disappeared from sight around the corner, one-by-one, in the shadow of one of the furthest halls, and a minute later the clanking sound of their heaviest armour faded too.

Twilight lingered for a moment after the last man had passed, then re-joined her friends. “How are you all holding up?”

She’d had much less chance to keep up with them while at the keep compared to in Stormwind– staying in different quarters, constantly busy with planning, directing training, defending the wall, managing the platoon. Time for a detailed conversation had been lacking, but she knew that they understood, and was grateful for it.

“Rarin’ to go.” Applejack answered first, fixing her cloak a little tighter as it threatened to sway out in the cool tundra breeze.

“No sweat, Twi.” Rainbow, beside her, agreed. The two had been the very picture of calm and composure all month.

“Let us be away. The sooner we’re on our way, the sooner we shall be back, in the warm, and the dry.” Rarity sighed. Perhaps not being able to bring any of her few personal effects – having them stored away at the keep to be shipped back at Stormwind – was still frustrating her.

Fluttershy gave the slightest of nods, and wrapped her jerkin a little tighter around her body.

“I can’t wait to play in the snow!” Pinkie added, cueing five pairs of rolled eyes from her friends.

“Well, you’ll be getting a lot of that for the next few months, Pinkie.” Twilight couldn’t help but smile, too. “But really… thanks for sticking with me, girls. All the way across the sea, and here…”

“Of course, Twi,” replied Applejack. “We’re your best friends. What else could we’ve done? Let you come out here on your lonesome?”

“We got through this first month without a scratch,” Rainbow added. “The six of us together, and these guys—” she jerked a thumb toward the waiting platoon. “—backing us up? We’ll be fine.”

Twilight wished she shared their confidence, but her fear wouldn’t go away, no matter how hard she tried to suppress it.

But she could fake that it had, for now.

And so began their journey through the wastes of the frozen north.


The first thing they learned about Northrend while travelling through the Borean Tundra was that it was incredibly cold.

This might have seemed obvious, something they had known even before setting off…

Well, they might have known but they certainly hadn’t understood. ‘til now.

They had thought it was bad inside the walls of the Valiance Keep, even shielded as they were from the worst of the wind. This was an entirely different level of cold.

Within six hours of their departure Twilight had already had to deal with five injuries as a result of just how low the temperature had become. Three cases, admittedly, were down to individual negligence, and by the time the third man had come forward, wincing in pain, she had lost her patience and scolded him severely.

But the other two of the five had taken every proper precaution, and had still fallen victim to the chill. It didn’t bode well for the future, as the temperature would only fall further as they ventured further inland.

She had split Gearfuse and Fizzlezip out of their squad and spread them around the others, instructing them to radiate warmth with their spells.

It worked, but it was a temporary solution that they could not sustain all the time, as it was incredibly draining on the casters themselves. It also, bizarrely, resulted in at least one case of heat illness – Fizzlezip managed to overheat in a bid to ramp up his flames, and spend several hours recovering while the rest of the squad he was assigned to chilled.

Along with her friends, as Twilight herself still refused to use fire. She was grateful that they bore it with grace, though Rainbow didn’t seem to feel the cold anyway, and Fluttershy was far off in the distance most of the time, scouting their way.

The cold also played into how and when they chose to set up camp. The middle of the long, dead nights was simply too dangerous to move in – without the sun, the temperature fell well below zero. They therefore woke each day just before dawn, and put everything back out at the apex of dusk, curling up in their sleeping bags and shivering until the morning.

At least they didn’t have to worry about supplies. Normally a platoon would march with one or two beasts of burden, ones that were local to the area, which would carry enough food, water and anything else they might need to last three weeks.

Instead, their skills provided the solution. Conjuring refreshments was a simple task for even the lowliest mage, and there being four of them helped greatly in spreading the load. Indeed, Twilight sought to undertake the majority of casting, at least in part to make up for her lack of participation in warming her troops.

Thrice daily she conjured forth reams of mana buns, strudles and fritters to share out. Of course, these could only nourish, not satisfy – and for that, they turned to hunting and cooking any of the game that roamed the bleak landscape.

She never saw Fluttershy around when they did. It wasn’t something that she, or any of her friends partook of, in fact – though they did nothing to stop the soldiers, either. Attitudes and beliefs were different here, as they had already learned; deeply ingrained, and unlikely – impossible, in most cases - to change.

Game was in fact all they initially encountered as they trudged along the coast – no Scourge or Horde in sight. Whether due or despite this, depending on how eager they were for a scrap, morale among the platoon remained unchanged. She knew she had Pinkie and Third squad to thank for this, and did her best to display her gratitude. The healers did seem to be taking on some of some of Pinkie’s best traits...

...much more than the offensive spellcasters were with Twilight herself. Half were at least laid back and easy to manage, if prone to complaining and idleness – the remainder required near constant supervision.

And First squad remained obedient only to Bandor.

They had followed Issha’s platoon’s path for a little while upon leaving the keep, a walk worth twenty minutes or so of their time, before taking a right at the first crossroads they arrived at. Ahead, to the north, they had just been able to see the other support platoon approach a small farming town called Farshire, and Twilight offered her fellow commander one last far-off farewell before turning her focus to matters at hand.

From the crossroads they carried on south-west, taking care to not stray too far from the path towards the rocky cliff, or further north to the hazardous hot springs. A deep, unnatural mist surrounded the southern bluffs, and prior scouting from Valiance suggested that pirates, and worse, lurked inside.

Once, they had spotted a group of unusual creatures, basking in the midday sun and bathing themselves cautiously in the hot springs. - gorlocs, according to Twilight's notes, apparently some kind of offshoot of a species known as murlocs, which were common in the southern parts of Azeroth. A tentative request from Bandor to sally out to remove them from threatening the passage of any future platoon had been vehemently denied by Twilight. They had instead taken a careful, slow march past the creatures, who, though curious, stayed far aware from their superior numbers - as she had hoped they would.

Then the path disappeared and they had only the coast to guide them. A sort-of routine began to emerge as more time went by and nothing remotely interesting actually happened. Just snow, parched yellow grass and ice in every direction, occasionally broken up by a field of fresh, dewy green grass, which they inevitably found that animals had already migrated to, and begun to consume.

If they hadn’t been certain that they were walking parallel with the sea, they would surely have been completely lost without any kind of landmark to guide them. More often than not it was Fluttershy who confirmed that they were still on the right track, disappearing away for several hours at a time before reappearing out of the snow with a silent nod.

Days passed, and a week went by, until they finally encountered something more interesting.


Nine days, all told, when Fluttershy came to her friends with news of a village. The weather had been taking a turn for the worse – a blizzard was rolling in, greater than any they had yet experienced.

“Y’sure, hun?” Applejack asked, fighting to be heard over the wind. “Definitely a village?”

“Yes,” Fluttershy said. If Applejack was having trouble, it was nearly impossible for Fluttershy to overcome the gale, but try she did. “I didn’t get close enough to see who lives there, but there were huts, and fires.”

“It could be a trap.” Rarity suggested.

“The Scourge or the Horde?” Bandor offered. First were now patrolling up and down the line as they all took a brief pause, to consider Fluttershy’s scouting, and the Corporal had come over to join them.

Twilight pulled out the map, encasing it instantly in a transparent, thin sheet of arcane to prevent any damage to it from the weather.

“We must have come this far alongside the sea, in eight days…” she murmured, performing a few rough calculations in her head. “We should be somewhere around here, which would make this village…”

Kaskala.

Home of some of the Borean Tuskarr. A walrus-like people; resilient, slow-to-anger, embattled by the Scourge and other threats. Or so the notes she had read told her.

“The Tuskarr hold no love for any of our enemies,” Twilight said. “They might be willing to offer us better shelter, until this storm moves on.”

That was one thing about the blizzards in the tundra. They did stop. Normally long enough for the snow to settle and maybe - just maybe - melt in the morning sun, but then this was just along the coast. She had no idea what it was like further north, or north-west. Wherever Issha and her platoon were now.

“Worth a chance!” Rainbow shouted over a particularly strong gust of wind.

“No argument there.” Applejack agreed.

“Let’s warm it up!” Pinkie said, dancing around.

Bandor looked sceptical, but the increasing gale made his mind up.

“All right,” he said. “Might I suggest you and Private Dash join First at the vanguard for the approach? They might appreciate a bit of the diplomatic touch.”

She nodded, said to Applejack, "Wait for us here until we know it’s safe,” and fell in behind him towards where his squad mates were waiting, shivering in their hardy plate. Unlike the mages with their robes or druids and shamans with their leather or chain jerkins, those with the most armour had much less luxury to add or remove items of warm clothing. It was either freeze while standing still, but be able to move and fight without issue… or stay warm at rest, but overheat through exertion.

The former was sadly preferable.

“What’s the word, ma’am?” Donovan asked.

“We’re going in to ask for shelter,” she said.

“And if it’s the Horde?” Kellas asked.

She ignored him, and his tone in particular. “Come on, let’s go.” With Bandor barking orders, First formed up in a protective shell around herself and Rainbow.

“You think they’ll help us?” Rainbow asked, up close so that only Twilight could hear her.

“I hope so,” she replied.

The weather began to lift just a little as they trudged closer, revealing that Fluttershy had been correct – there was a village, and it was exactly as she had described it. It looked safe, almost a serene presence in the face of the storm. As it turned out, it was quite safe, but not at all welcoming.


The spear was the first hint. It wasn’t in the ground one second, and then, quite suddenly, it was.

It sailed through the air with a whistling shriek, pierced through the ice and impacted the ground below with a crunch, only a couple of steps from the lead man. First dropped into defensive positions in an instant as Bandor grabbed Twilight by the shoulder and hauled her to the ground, and Kellas shouted, “Contact!” at the top of his lungs.

“Wait!” Twilight managed to wheeze, the wind knocked out of her by Bandor’s plated arm. “There’s someone—”

So there was. Out from the direction of the village, what looked like a short, balding walrus-man waddled towards them, dressed in ratty furs, sealskin rags and jewellery made of bleached bone.

And judging from the look on his face, he was rather upset.

“No!” he bellowed, the high volume of his voice relative to his size catching them a little off guard. Donovan and Harris, the lead soldiers, even drew back a step, intimidated despite themselves. “You will not come here! Stay away, outsiders!”

His grasp of common was surprisingly good, though it was clearly not his mother tongue.

“Father!” another voice called out before they had a chance to reply – another Tuskarr. He emerged from the same hut as his father, and strode purposefully towards the encounter.

“What is going on…?” Rainbow Dash murmured.

“Beats me.” Clarke shrugged. First eased off their weapons and combat stances a little, surer now that violence was not immediately about to break out than they had been at the moment when the spear had hit the ground.

The son caught up with his father, who had lost all focus on the outsiders the moment his progeny had emerged from the house. A rapid conversation followed in their native tongue, through which the platoon could only stare.

It soon ended, and the two split away. The younger newcomer stayed where he was, while his elder returned to his abode - though not without a parting shot.

“Stay away, outsiders! Bringers of the God of death!”

His son shook his head and sighed, then beckoned them to come a little closer.

“I apologise for my father,” he said, his accent similarly clipped but his common far more fluent. “It is a stressful time to be the village elder, with the death god strengthening in the heart of the north, but I am afraid I cannot change his answer.”

“We haven’t even asked a question,” Twilight replied, feeling that they had lost control of the conversation before it had even begun.

The tuskarr chuckled. “You approach us at the beginning of a blizzard, heavy laden and in great numbers. What else would you be asking for?”

“We won’t cause any trouble.” Twilight pressed. “Please—”

“It is not that, and for the most part the Tuskarr are a welcoming people,” he said, then continued as he caught sight of their doubtful expressions. “But you must understand… the last two months, blue-clad warriors have approached our village, along with former vassals of the dark one. Death and misfortune followed in their wake."

He swept his hand out towards his home, lingering briefly on huts that had been ransacked, decorative bones that had been smashed to pieces, and other visible signs of damage. Something much worse than the weather had hit the place, indeed.

"Kvaldir raids. Monsters from the sea. Our village is only just starting to recover. We cannot risk it again.”

“Vassals of the dark one?” Rainbow whispered.

“The warlocks are pretty dark.”

“Somehow I don’t think they mean the warlocks.”

“Shut it!” Kellas hissed, and Bandor restored a greater semblance of order with a steely glare, before offering Twilight a suggestion. The wind was picking up again, to the point that he was shouting himself hoarse and she could barely hear him.

"Ma'am, perhaps we could offer them protection from their enemies for the night, in exchange for—"

"The last group to pass through would've promised the same!" she dismissed, and hurried to plead with the walrus-man again, but he had already turned to go.

“You may stay here tonight, if you wish. Your closeness to the village may protect you from the cold,” he said, walking back to the warmth and safety of his hut as First gazed resentfully through the gale after him. “It is all I can offer you.”


The weather that night was worse than any other so far – the coldest, most unfriendly imaginable.

None of the platoon, not even the dwarves who were accustomed to Ironforge’s harsh winters or the draenei who had crossed the stars to reach Azeroth, had ever experienced the cold like this.

It had an incredibly detrimental effect on morale, the flames of distaste fanned against the two closest targets.

The first was, unsurprisingly, the tuskarr chieftain, and by extension the tuskarr themselves, for refusing the suffering platoon shelter closer to the cove, further out from the greatest impact of the storm. Whether moving a hundred meters to the south would have made much of a difference or not, it mattered little – the sentiment was there, and the condemnation was nearly unanimous.

And the second target was Twilight herself. Though she was not universally blamed for their misfortune, criticism of her approach, tactics and everything else was no longer limited to First alone. Her refusal to use fire magic came under greatest scrutiny, and huddled around the campfires they had to fight so hard to start, the men and women of Eight platoon speculated bitterly on her reluctance to light a spark.

But still they pressed on, and the coast stretched out into the distance, the ground to the north remaining empty and white. Occasionally they found items of interest – obelisks carved of dull grey stone, or the frozen remains of the local fauna.

Still no Scourge, and still no Horde. A relief on both counts, but not to First who were growing increasingly restless with each passing day. The measured advance of the platoon, slowed by injury, illness and inexperience, did not help in this regard, but Twilight could not – would not – push them any harder.

She suspected that she would have lost some already – the least prepared – if not for the grace of the healers, and refused to increase the likelihood of that by her own actions.

Another week had passed by the time they came across another tuskarr village, a greater one, with larger fishing piers that stretched across the natural bay. They gave it a wide berth, by Twilight's order. The soldiers grumbled, and the decision did her standing with them no favours. By that point she had begun to suspect that much of First, egged on by Kellas and barely held in check by Bandor, were on an incredibly short leash and would not react well to another cautious denial of hospitality.

Better that she have their ire than it be directed at a village of peaceful Northrend natives.

Past the village and further down the coast, they came near an ominous dark structure, a little further to the north. Half-shrouded from their sight by wind, snow and shadow, it bore uncomfortable resemblance to the grim structures the Scourge had used to bomb Stormwind harbour.

Bandor immediately volunteered to take a squad and a half to investigate, and even Rainbow Dash, bored and curious, voiced her agreement, but Twilight shook her head and then stifled their protestations with a firm, “No.”

“Our mission is to reach the Dragonblight safely.” she reminded them. “Going off-plan to an unknown, probably hostile building won’t help us do that. We’ll lose time and put ourselves at greater risk of falling ill from the cold.”

Bandor nodded reluctantly, Rainbow looked crestfallen, but only Kellas, skulking at the back of the discussion, kept his oar in.

“What’s the point of coming here if we aren’t going to fight the Scourge?”

“The point,” Twilight snapped at him, fed up with his attitude and demeanour. “is that we are following orders – orders that make sense, and that will allow us to destroy the Scourge a lot more effectively than if we just attack at random, or at every opportunity. I don’t want to hear any more on this matter.”

She couldn’t have known, and would never know, two things about the exchange.

Had they actually taken the detour to the north, they would have sustained far fewer casualties in the battle that would have followed compared to the alternative that they were actually heading into.

And that this was what finally convinced Kellas to kill her.


In that dark tower, a vile presence plotted and schemed. He could see the surrounding landscape clear as day, his mage providing a view some five hundred yards in every direction.

He could see the death knight he had bewitched, forced to wander in an endless circle forever.

He could see the Alliance platoon, of Stormwind soldiers, mages and all other manner of colourful… prey.

He concentrated, and sent his commands to his waiting pawns, as the force slowly moved further into the jaws of his trap.

If he had still possessed the facial muscles necessary to do so, the lich would have smiled.


“We do it tonight.” Kellas urged. “For the good of the platoon.”

He and the rest of First were huddled around a campfire, and the warlock Wheatley, who was doing much better at keeping them warm than the fire was. He’d fallen into the role of co-conspirator with the squad, and they had taken him into their confidence as much as was possible.

“Kellas…” Bandor sighed. His protestations had by now grown so half-hearted that the Lance-Corporal was no longer the slightest bit hesitant to give voice to his anger, so long as the lieutenant’s back was turned and her friends were nowhere nearby.

“We do it tonight, and then you take over, Corporal.”

“Do you truly think I would have done better? That I will do better?”

“Yes.” Kellas said firmly, and the other squad members chimed in to agree. “You wouldn’t have led us away from shelter. You wouldn’t have cowardly refused to approach a suspected enemy position. You would have motivated—”

“Enough, please…”

“So let’s go over it one more time. We draw away her friends, one-by-one. Harris, you and I will swap with the the lance-corporal, and the paladin. We’ll make up a good excuse. The sister and the tracker will be away anyway, that we can rely on. As for the bodyguard, Clarke, take her out on my signal. We’ll have to wait for the right terrain so that you can do it from a good distance…

“Once they’re all away, or incapacitated, I’ll walk up with Wheatley. He’ll blast up a steam cloud out of the snow for cover, and then I’ll do the deed.

“Scourge attack,” he continued after the ominous pause. “That’s what you’ll say, Bandor. It’ll unite the platoon, even the rest of her squad, who’ll want revenge, and we’ll get rid of her body so there’s no way they can prove foul play.”

“We are damned if we do this, Kellas…”

“And we’re doomed if we don’t. Either way… Imagine if we do make it through to the Dragonblight, to whatever lies further north? Do you want her leading us on a real mission? At least this way we have a chance of survival."

The rest of the squad, and the warlock, nodded. Bandor looked around, unused to being subverted by those he commanded.

“I’ll play no part in the act,” he said heavily, resigned to the inevitable. “But I’ll not get in your way.”

“I’ll make the signal at the next best chance we get,” Kellas said, very much in charge. “Good luck, everyone.”

A few metres from the conspiracy, unseen by all, a shadow crept away.