Gamble for Azeroth 2 (Patreon)

The road to north was quieter than Arvis expected, but then, it was no surprise.

Stratholme's surrounding forests had never been what anyone would call lively, even before the ash and death that Prince Arthas had brought to the city. After the destruction of Stratholme, a lot of villagers chose to migrate south, and it didn’t help that he chose to travel through less active roads to minimize the risk of getting caught by a patrol.

There weren’t many patrols considering it was Quel’Thalas border, but there were still occasional ones, and the last thing he wanted was to get caught as a deserter.

However, as he moved, he noticed the forest was too silent. No birds. No squirrels. No occasional fox darted between the trees. Thunder seemed to feel it too, moving with a singular focus rather than acting out. The stallion's ears were pinned back, his steps carrying the stiff-legged tension.

That alone would have warned him. Thunder was famous for his foul moods, but only because he was smart enough to pull nasty tricks on his riders.

Not to mention, there was the warning. No, something was afoot.

He occasionally used Bloom to sense his surroundings, but not too often, as spreading his senses required him to stop and focus.

He had been riding for roughly six hours, taking minimal breaks, even changing his direction. His initial target was the first moon gate, hoping to enter directly, but the silence was unsettling him.

He changed his direction toward Quel'Lithien Lodge, which was a resting spot for elven rangers ranging outside their borders. It was not exactly a commonly visited location, but his military rank meant that he was aware of the location.

It was technically Lordaeron land, but the forest was still wild and untamed. Considering it was a large forest, lumberjacks were smart enough to avoid areas elves frequented.

He took another break when they came across a small spring, letting Thunder drink water and rest a bit. From there, even the road was mostly covered with undergrowth, making it difficult for Thunder to move.

Arvis reached out with his new senses to observe his surroundings. It was still strange, unsettling in how natural it felt.

It was like gaining several pairs of eyes, though eyes were the wrong word. The plants didn't see. It wasn’t a full view, but a general sense. The information was imprecise, more impression than image, but it gave a vague sensation. For example, he could distinguish Thunder’s presence from his own, though it required focus.

He had been betting that the disgusting presence of the undead would stand out.

It did. His bet paid off. Somewhat.

“Yay, I win,” he growled as he pulled his sword, leaving his shield in place. He could feel that it was merely one, and quickly dealing with it would work faster. He would have mounted Thunder and escaped, but trying to escape while being chased by the undead was not a fun experience.

They wouldn’t move as fast as a galloping horse, but their tireless nature meant that it would eventually catch up. No, he had to fight.

He drew his sword, waiting for it to appear. It burst from the undergrowth without warning, surprisingly silent. That alone was scary. It wasn’t the first time he fought against undead, but the silent, careful movement was new.

Without Bloom warning him, he might not have caught it before it was too late.

It was horrible news. Suddenly, he understood why the message mentioned the collapse of the Alliance. An enemy that grew with every kill was scary enough when they were mindless, lumbering beasts.

Counter-ambush helped him, and he slashed, shattering the leg. If he were a paladin, he would have targeted the torso and shattered the ghoul in one attack, but he was not. Instead, he focused on limitings its mobility, which was always the best way to deal with them.

He then dodged every attack, using its staggered momentum to his benefit as he chopped its arms and legs, then decapitated it in several hits, which was enough to destroy the unholy curse that was keeping the soul shackled.

“Rest in peace,” he muttered. It was impossible to feel any hatred toward the undead, not when they were former comrades that had been unlucky enough to fall into the hands of those cultist freaks after death…

Thunder reared, but as a trained warhorse, he remained silent and disciplined rather than running away. Arvis walked to his side, putting his hand to Thunder’s neck to calm him down. “Rest properly, you impatient bastard. We might need to push more. You’ll need your stamina.”

That earned a stiff breath that felt like a scoff. Alvis looked around, and saw a wild apple tree. He put his hand on the tree, as the contact made it easier to use his power. He grew half a dozen apples, and fed them to Thunder. A reward and something easy to digest.

He ate two himself, aware that he might need the energy. Apples were surprisingly delicious.

He sighed. That ability alone would have made him a rich man by selling out-of-season fruits to other nobles. Not a rare business, but others required expensive magical greenhouses, and doing it at the cost of some exhaustion would give him excellent margins.

His idle distraction had been interrupted when he noticed another dark energy, this time even farther away, and more crowded. “It’s time to earn those apples, grouchy beast,” Arvis muttered as he jumped, clamping his knees around.

This time, it wasn’t just one ghoul. He wasn’t able to distinguish how many, but anything more than two was too many for him. He had practiced his swordsmanship a lot when he was in Stratholme — mostly as an excuse to stay away from others — but he didn’t trust himself to survive half a dozen ghouls.

He was merely decent with sword, not brilliant.

“I should have taken my father’s suggestion and joined the paladins,” he muttered, trying to figure out how to sense the presence of undead while riding. Back then, his father suggested it merely as a way to reinforce the Godwyn family name.

An undead plague was not something that was expected.

There was something true about necessity being the mother of invention. He had never been particularly skilled or creative, but escaping from the undead, he managed to split his attention to have some idea of what was going on. It proved useful, as night was not far away.

The thick forest made seeing even more difficult.

A timely discovery, because without it, he wouldn’t have noticed the ghoul lying in ambush at the side of the road. It burst from the undergrowth with no warning his normal senses could detect. If it hadn’t been for his timely strike, it would have wounded Thunder, which, considering everything, would have been his death sentence.

He used his sword as a club, pushing the ghoul away while he desperately hung on. He didn’t try to stop and finish the ghoul. The ambush was even scarier.

It suggested planning.

He continued to ride. A second one attacked soon after, but this time, he just directed Thunder toward an opening and circled around, not even engaging with it. A third one soon appeared. Then a fourth.

He killed one that approached from the right side, using Thunder's momentum to add force to his swing. The stallion, to his credit, had shown no fear, only fury; his famous ill-temper proving to be useful.

Arvis didn’t stop, because the more he used his plant sense, the more he realized something else. More were coming. Not two or three, but dozens. He could feel them because the more crowded they were, the stronger their unnatural presence.

Worse was their position, fanning out in a rough arc that was closing around his position like a jaw.

It was dangerous because ghouls didn't do that. Ghouls were barely more intelligent than rabid dogs. They attacked whatever living thing was closest, fought over scraps, and wandered aimlessly when no prey was available. Only when there was an acolyte or necromancer directing them, they move with order.

Yet, he felt no such presence.

He wondered which was worse, that he was dealing with an undead he couldn’t detect … or, until now, the undead had been deliberately acting weak as part of some grand plan.

The implication hit him like a bucket of ice water.

He pulled up the full picture from his plant-sense, trying to map the movement. They were trying to ambush him, but their actions weren’t smooth, reacting to his movement changes rather than predicting them. It suggested that they were getting more intelligent rather than having a necromancer.

Good for his immediate situation, not so much for the rest of the world. The prediction of the Alliance shattering became even more believable.

However, even animalistic intelligence was dangerous when coming from dozens of ghouls, trying to funnel him toward an ambush point. A simple kill box, but quite good considering he cut the road.

He slowed down, expanding his senses. Once again, Bloom saved his life, allowing him to find another path, one that seemed to be deliberately hidden. Probably belonging to elven rangers.

He rode deeper into the forest. "Go," Arvis hissed, and Thunder needed no further encouragement. The stallion plunged into the gap at something between a canter and a controlled fall, his hooves finding solid ground.

Behind them, Arvis could feel the ghouls react. The formation stuttered, confused by prey that had suddenly moved in a direction they hadn't accounted for. The pursuit continued. But it was disorganized now, a mob rather than a formation, and Arvis was already widening the gap.

He kept Bloom working as he rode, not wanting to get ambushed. It was exhausting in a way he hadn't expected, not physically, but mentally, reminding the time when one of his magic tutors decided to push him to his limits when he was a child.

He bit his lip and kept going. Exhaustion and potential coma were better than dying.

He rode for what felt like an eternity, but was probably closer to an hour. Thunder was lathered and blowing hard, his earlier fury replaced by the grim determination of an animal that understood that stopping meant death.

Finally, mercifully, Arvis felt the character of the forest change. The branches got even thicker, but the feeling of the trees changed as well. Even the leaves were different, with a beautiful green glow.

Elven forest.

There was no doubt, as every tree he touched had a flicker of life inside them, one that the other trees lacked. They also barely responded when he reached out with Bloom, like they had autonomy.

He just begged for help while he tried to stay in the saddle.

He slowed down when he heard a voice from the trees.

"Human," a voice said from the trees. "You are approaching the border of Quel'Thalas. State your purpose."

Arvis raised his hands, making sure they were visible and empty. His sword was still in its scabbard. "Captain Arvis Godwyn, Stratholme garrison," he said, fighting to keep his voice clear in his ragged breathing. "I'm carrying an urgent message, and chased by undead."

A figure materialized from the shadows with the fluid grace that only elves seemed to manage. A ranger, male, his green-and-brown armor blending so perfectly with the forest that he seemed to be a part of it. A longbow was in his hand, an arrow nocked but not drawn. Two more rangers appeared on either side, equally armed, equally silent.

"A message," the lead ranger repeated. His common was heavily accented, but not enough to hide the distaste. "Delivered personally by an officer, alone, in the middle of the night, on a horse that appears to have been ridden nearly to death."

"It's been a difficult evening," Arvis said. “I —“

The ranger's expression didn't change. "The border is closed to unauthorized crossings. Return to your garrison."

"I'm not sure that's an option." He gestured behind him. "I was attacked by ghouls approximately three miles south. A large group. They were coordinated in a way I've never seen, flanking movements, herding me toward an ambush point. Something was directing them."

That got a reaction. The ranger's eyes narrowed, and she exchanged a quick glance with one of her companions. A few words in rapid Thalassian passed between them, too fast for Arvis to follow, his competence was barely basic.

"The message I'm carrying isn't a written dispatch," he said as he raised his sigil ring, knowing that his noble identity would gain a hint of respect. Elves didn’t like humans, but tolerated the nobles somewhat. "I was on a routine patrol when I received a message from a family retainer. A fragment of a report suggesting an attack on the capital. He claimed that King Terenas is dead."

He watched the ranger's face carefully. There. A faint tightening around the eyes. Surprise, but not disbelief. They'd heard something too.

"You received this report about what channels?" the ranger asked.

"Irregular ones. An old family artifact that burned due to stress … but it shouldn’t have." That was close enough to the truth. "I tried to return, but with the undead suddenly showing coordination, I decided Quel’Thalas, the true protector of the land, has to be informed."

That was quite a bit of exaggeration to call elves the true protectors of the land, when in every historical battle it was the humans dying while the elves sent small teams. One could never go wrong stroking an elf’s ego.

"There are procedures—" one of the other elves tried to interject.

"With great respect, honored Ranger, if the King of Lordaeron has been assassinated and the undead are suddenly operating with tactical intelligence, procedures may be slightly behind the situation."

A longer pause. More Thalassian between the rangers. Arvis kept his hands visible and his expression open, trying very hard to look like a man delivering bad news rather than a man fleeing a death sentence.

It helped that he was barely holding on.

The lead ranger studied him for a long moment. "Your rank insignia. Show me."

Arvis slowly reached for the captain's badge on his cloak, unclipped it and held it out. He also passed his heir-ring. The ranger took them, examining with the kind of care that suggested he knew exactly what a legitimate Lordaeron officer's insignia and noble sigils looked like. “Godwyn family,” he said.

“Yes, Arvis Godwyn. A minor house,” he said, highlighting his humility. The last thing he needed was to be turned back by the elven rangers. He didn’t expect them to just kick him out, but escort him back to Stratholme if that happened … but he might actually prefer to be abandoned.

Another exchange in Thalassian. This time, one of the flanking rangers lowered his bow entirely and disappeared back into the trees. Reporting to a superior, Arvis guessed.

The lead ranger looked at him. "You will dismount and wait. Your horse will be tended to. You will surrender your weapon temporarily.”

Those were clearly not requests.

"Understood," Arvis said, and swung down from Thunder's back. His legs nearly buckled, exhaustion hitting hard. He unbuckled his sword and handed it over, hilt first. “Do you mind if I sit down?” he asked.

The lead ranger nodded. He sat down while the other ranger led Thunder away, who seemed to be too tired to pull his usual tricks.

Good. He didn’t want to anger elves, considering he was hoping to stay with them rather than being sent back.

A new elf appeared from the forest. Male. Older, at least elven terms. He would have been barely in his thirties if he were human, meaning he must have been at least a thousand years old.

He was still anger His armor was more ornate, marking him as an officer of some kind, and his expression was carefully blank.

"Captain Godwyn," he said. "I am Ranger Captain Nerethor. Tell me again about this message you received regarding King Terenas."

Arvis repeated his story, keeping it consistent, keeping the details sparse. A garbled report about an assassination. Coordinated undead. The decision to bring the information to the nearest Alliance position rather than risking it getting lost.

Nerethor listened without interrupting, his luminous eyes fixed on Arvis's face with an intensity that made it very clear he was looking for deception.

Luckily, Arvis was better at lying than he was at swordsmanship. An inevitable part of being a noble dealing with hostility in his own home.

Silence ruled for a moment. Arvis could see that they weren’t convinced. He decided to reveal Bloom, at least to a degree. He wouldn’t be the first person in the world to develop a minor talent after facing death. “There’s an undead force approaching,” he said, pointing in the correct direction.

“Liar. There’s nothing in that direction—“ one of the surrounding rangers spat out, but Nerethor raised his hand to silence him, then looked there.

“Wait,” he said as he moved deeper into the forest. A minute later, he returned, looking tense. “Undead approaching, to arms!” he shouted in Thalassian; his clear pronunciation allowed Arvis to catch what he said … barely.

Arvis thought about asking for his sword, but when a dozen elves appeared around Nerethor, he decided to continue sitting, the undead presence disappearing rapidly. He tried to extend his Bloom to see if he could catch elven presence, which didn’t work.

He shrugged. It wasn’t critical.

Arvis sat down, listening to his own hammering heart as he battled exhaustion, trying not to collapse.

Rangers returned two minutes later, looking as impeccable as they had left. The captain looked at him.

"You will be allowed to enter Quel'Thalas on a temporary basis, under escort, pending verification of your identity and the information you've provided." Nerethor paused. "Your weapons will be returned once verification is complete. Until then, you are a guest, Captain Godwyn. I trust you understand the conditions that imply."

Arvis nodded. When they said guest, it was more like a prisoner with better residence.

A deal he happily took. "I understand, Ranger Captain. And I appreciate it."

Nerethor gave a short nod, then turned and began walking into the forest. Arvis followed. None of the elves said anything to him, letting him finally focus on the other part of the mysterious message he had received.

[Chaos Gacha - Faction Leader Edition]

Faction Leader Edition. Implying that he would get more abilities once he established his own faction.

He shook his head. Walking into Quel'Thalas with nothing but the clothes on his back, seventeen gold coins, and an ability he didn't fully understand, establishing a faction was not likely. It wasn’t impossible for elves to follow a human, but only when the human in question was someone like Uther, Turalyon, or Khadgar, with enough power to reshape the landscape if needed.

Not a dismissed noble from a minor house.

He still didn’t know whether he would take that challenge, or live his life in elven forests. Elves might be smug and dismissive, but they weren’t monsters. They wouldn’t send him to his death if the situation in Lordaeron collapsed as badly as the message suggested.

And, even if he wanted to take the mysterious challenge, staying a while he explored Bloom, maybe even making some money to get better equipment wouldn’t be amiss.

He certainly wouldn’t say no to a magic sword.

Arvis shrugged. Ultimately, he wasn’t in a hurry.

He was safe in Quel’Thalas.