Deatholme was the first fortress of the High Elf kingdom of Quel'Thalas, situated between the Ghostlands and Eastweald. Although the High Elves had maintained good relations with humans since the Troll Wars three thousand years ago, it never hurt to be wary. After conquering the Amani Trolls with human aid, the High Elves had refortified their old barracks, turning it into the present fortress.
The human kingdoms had been far from peaceful lately. News of the plague in Stratholme had reached Silvermoon City immediately, and His Majesty Anasterian had promptly ordered the Ranger Corps to reinforce Deatholme and Quel'Danil Lodge in Lordaeron. The latter was the High Elves' only outpost in the human world.
It should have been destroyed by the Undead in Stratholme when Arthas led his army into Eastweald. But now that the Undead in Stratholme no longer existed, and Arthas's army had been held back in West Darrowmere, the place had naturally survived as well.
Still, orders from Silvermoon City had to be carried out. So, as a new day began, Deatholme's guards mounted their Hawkstriders and started their daily patrol.
The Ghostlands had originally been the home of the Amani Trolls, a branch of the Ancient Troll Empire, so one could hardly expect much of its surroundings. In fact, to these Elf guards, this dark place was not even one-hundredth as fine as Quel'Thalas.
In truth, the Ghostlands, not yet occupied by the Undead, was quite a pleasant place. Sunlight was rarely seen here, supposedly because ancient Troll Priests had cast a Darkness Veil over it, but it was not pitch-black. Rather, it closely resembled Darnassus, the "city of the World Tree" in Dick's memories.
The dim light lent everything a tranquil air. The air was fresh, and wild grass and flowers lined both sides of the road. In short, by the time Dick passed through the distinctly High Elven gateway called the "Silvermoon Gate" and entered the Ghostlands, gray mist had risen over the land. Though it was somewhat damp, Dick, seated on his warhorse, still took a deep breath of fresh air and felt as though he had been born anew.
Two days earlier, he had come ashore downstream on the Thondroril River and headed straight for Stratholme. After resting for a few hours with the Stratholme Regiment and writing a letter, he had found an armored warhorse, changed into a suit of knight's armor, and set off toward Quel'Thalas.
Although Dick had said he intended to stop Arthas, that was only to buy the Order of the Silver Hand some breathing room. He had always kept the Time Dragon King Nozdormu's words firmly in mind: he simply could not reverse major events such as the destruction of Silvermoon City.
Thus, Dick had come to the High Elf kingdom with the attitude of doing his best and accepting fate. As long as he could cause Arthas more trouble and delay his return to the battlefield in Lordaeron, Dick would be more than satisfied.
But this was also a very troublesome task. To put it kindly, the High Elves were proud and tenacious; less kindly, they were stubborn blockheads who were difficult to deal with. Though they had once enjoyed a period of close relations with the human kingdoms, even teaching human Mages the secrets of magic (yes, the ancestors of Dalaran's human Mages had actually all been pupils of the High Elves), their attitude toward humans had grown arrogant with the passage of time.
Dick did not even know where to begin.
Now, with the Fire of Justice on his back, he held the reins in one hand and the Holy Book Uther had given him in the other. Although the quest "The Holy Light Fades" remained unfinished, this book effectively counted as his reward already. It was also the first high-quality Libram he had obtained.
"Uther's Holy Book of Blessing" "Purple" "Strength +20, Agility +20, Stamina +50, Holy Power +50, Greater Stamina" "Description: This Libram records the blessing spells of Uther the Lightbringer. Only Paladins who have earned his recognition can learn the blessing spells recorded within."
It was worth mentioning that Librams were much like Mages' staves, Hunters' bullets and arrows, and Shamans' relics: optional, but definitely better to have than not.
They were also very rare. Most contained veteran knights' accounts of their understanding of the Holy Light. To Dick, who was struggling to learn Holy Light spells, this was undoubtedly what he needed most right now.
Yet although this iron-covered Holy Book contained only twenty-odd thin pages, Dick's first impression was that it was obscure! Yes, extremely obscure and difficult to understand. In two days, he had not even learned the first Blessing of Might.
That did not stop Dick from continuing his studies, however. Much of what this Holy Book recorded was very useful to him.
But just as Dick's warhorse passed through the thick mist, with the Holy Book's silver chains clinking against his armor, faint sounds of roaring and clashing weapons seemed to drift from the fog ahead. Dick frowned. Closing his left hand, he shut the Holy Book and hung it at his side, then urged his warhorse toward the fighting.
Liadrin was a High Priest of Silvermoon City, a lady of highly respected standing. Though rumors claimed that she and Ranger-Lord Lor'themar Theron had been sweethearts over a decade earlier, the two had since parted ways over differences in their beliefs. Even so, no one dared court Lady Liadrin.
For Lady Liadrin had declared more than once that she had dedicated the rest of her life to the almighty Holy Light. Her rise to High Priest in just a few decades (believe me, a few decades was by no means a long time for an Elf) also proved the Holy Light's favor toward her.
Three months earlier, Liadrin had led a squad of Priests to join Deatholme's defenses. Today happened to be her turn to lead a patrol.
But now, this favorite of the Holy Light faced the dreadful prospect of being captured for the second time in her life, by the same enemy as before: Trolls! The Amani Trolls hiding in the mountain hollows at the easternmost edge of the Ghostlands.
Fate seemed to have played a little joke on Liadrin. The one capturing her both times was actually the same Troll, Zul'jin. Yet something was wrong with the Zul'jin standing before her now!
Zul'jin was the current leader of the Amani Trolls, and a Troll with a troubled fate. During the Second War, he had joined the Horde, only to be captured by the High Elves in battle. They had blinded his right eye, and in the end, he had been forced to sever his own left arm to escape. Yet those wounds did nothing to diminish Zul'jin's might.
In fact, the present Zul'jin was among the strongest Trolls of all!
But just as Liadrin suspected, the Zul'jin standing before her, slaughtering the brave Elf soldiers, was indeed not normal. Blood-red light shone in his eyes, and lynx-like roars issued from his mouth. Devoid of reason, he frantically attacked everything around him.
Liadrin desperately wanted to help, but she could not. She was only a Holy Priest. As a Priest who had sacrificed all offensive power, she possessed powerful healing abilities, but under the voodoo infection from Zul'jin's fist weapons, the Elf soldiers guarding her still died horribly, one after another.
"Holy Light! If you can hear me, please save these brave warriors!"
Liadrin waved her staff, casting one Holy Light spell after another on the soldiers. But they were only ordinary soldiers of the Ranger Corps. With their unremarkable martial skills, they could not withstand Zul'jin's frenzied lunges. After a brief, five-minute skirmish, all ten soldiers were gone, leaving only Liadrin.
Watching Zul'jin approach her slowly, staring at those unnerving blood-red eyes, Liadrin backed away. Soon, however, a vine caught her retreating feet, and she tumbled awkwardly toward the ground.
"Holy Light... isn't the Holy Light supposed to be almighty?"
Liadrin's body fell toward the ground. Though the fall would hurt, her inner turmoil hurt even more. As the beliefs instilled in her since childhood shattered, traces of confusion and resentment toward the Holy Light also arose in her heart.
Yet the next moment, the pain of falling that Liadrin had imagined never came. Instead, she fell into a cold embrace.
That was the sensation of armor against her body; Liadrin could feel it. Opening her eyes, she saw Dick's concerned gaze.
"Beautiful lady, are you all right?"
"You're... you're human!"
"Uh... we'd better discuss that later!"
Holding Liadrin, Dick spun swiftly around, dodging Zul'jin's lunge, then set her aside. Drawing the fiercely burning Fire of Justice from his back, the Paladin charged at Zul'jin.
If this had truly been Zul'jin, Dick would never have played the "Hero rescuing a beauty," not even under threat of death. He knew that Zul'jin was definitely a Lord, possibly even a High Lord or a Hero. At the very least, he would not be much weaker than Mal'Ganis had been back then.
This was a mighty Warrior who had fused the spirits of four beasts-a Dragonhawk, a lynx, a great bear, and an eagle-within his body. Without exaggeration, Zul'jin could easily crush the current Dick using only thirty percent of his strength.
In the game, the Amani Trolls gathered under Zul'jin were a force that required ten of the strongest Champions (players) to band together to fight!
But the information displayed before Dick's eyes showed that this Zul'jin was not the real one.
"Zul'jin's Beast Avatar - Lynx" "Rare elite" "Beast" "Strength 80, Agility 130, Stamina 270, Arcane Power 0" "This is a powerful lynx imbued with a trace of Zul'jin's soul power. Though it possesses less than one-fifth of the original's strength, you had best not underestimate it. Its agile movements are an absolute nightmare for any novice, but its chaotic mind limits its power."
Bam! Bam! Bam!
This lynx avatar of Zul'jin was indeed fast. In the blink of an eye, they clashed three times. Two claw marks appeared on Dick's armor, while a golden brand of Holy Light appeared on the lynx avatar's body.
But after obtaining Uther's Holy Book, Dick was at least no weaker than Zul'jin's lynx avatar in terms of strength. After three head-on clashes, Dick even held a slight advantage thanks to his well-forged armor.
Zul'jin's beast spirits were not orthodox Druid spells; they already counted as a form of dark magic. There was thus no expecting this thing to fall into the Order alignment. The +100% damage effect had also triggered, and a single strike had robbed the lynx avatar's hind legs of their former agility.
Under the Holy Light's continuous burning, the suffering lynx charged again, but its speed had already fallen by at least a third.
Liadrin had also recovered her wits. With a High Priest's help, five minutes later, Dick risked having his armor torn open and landed a Holy Shock on the lynx avatar's head, finally wearing away the monster's last trace of stamina.
Only then did Dick wipe away his sweat and turn to the High Elf Priest who had been standing behind him all along. But the moment his gaze settled on the lady, he gave a sudden start.
"Liadrin! What are you doing here?"