Operation: Undying Flame

Operation: Undying Flame was an expedition of the Truthful's elite forces to the area of Plaguewood. Following their attempts to stymie the rise of the Dawnbringer Brigade, a militant faction aligned with Brotherhood of the Light, the Truthful ventured further into the Eastern Plaguelands, with their ultimate goal to reach Stratholme, hoping to uncover lost relics of the Scarlet Crusade, and establish a presence in Plaguewood.

''This page is still under construction. Adapted from shivtr campaign thread. (Information might conflict in some spots.)''

Overview
"The greatest riches are not found in material gain or possessions. The paramount value to any crusader is in the emigration to the front, fighting the enemies of the Crusade wheresoever they may dwell. Verily, the Light places greater rank in the life of a pilgrim, whose journey is made solely upon the Narrow Path."

- Trials of Saidan

Markus Quinn was eager to push further and further into the Eastern Plagueland, as the Truthful grew bolder after striking a decisive blow against Abram Whitlock, a figurehead of the Brotherhood of the Light and a menace to the Crusade, Quinn's interest was primarily in finishing what was started in A Thorn in Our Side. So long the Brigade's commander remained, the Truthful would not be able to press into Plaguewood unmolested by Brotherhood forces. Furthmore, things were personal now, and Whitlock wanted blood. He was too dangerous to leave alive.

Chandan Ostrick himself had a personal, more spiritual goal in mind when he joined Quinn's expedition, for inside Stratholme laid a coveted history the High Cleric believed would bolster the Prelacy, and further establish the orthodoxy of Truth. Due to many prominent Saidanites making the journey to the front, Mara Ardentlocke was appointed as High Protector of the Knights of Dathrohan, and was tasked to serve under Commander Goodchilde within the Scarlet Monastery.

Tentative Approach
From the foothold of Fellari's Outpost, Quinn sent a scout team lead by Tristan Holcomb into Plaguewood to appraise the threats therein. After Holcomb failed to report back after the span of a week, Quinn's most hopeful assumption was that he was captured by Whitlock, but there was a plethora of worse fates that awaited in the deadly hive.

Regardless, there was no time to remain idle. Quinn knew the capabilities of his comrades, and he mapped out a route taken by the Crimson Courier before the Shattering. What likely threats that he knew of--ghouls, abominations, fungal monsters--he came prepared for. There was little that could not be solved with ample use of fire and holy magic, and the crusaders had both aplenty.

Something itched at Quinn's mind, still. There was a small pang of guilt that thawed the hunter's icy demeanor, as he had a soft-spot for young Holcomb. Quinn genuinely hoped that the boy was merely lost amid the noxious glades. The Truthful gathered, and their march into the den of the unholy would soon begin.



Threatening Calm
The Truthful were careful in their approach to the hostile, volatile environment of Plaguewood. Most who joined the expedition were attuned strongly to Holy Light and naturally rebuked disease, or wore protective garb in order to filter out the pestilent air of the fungal glades. Their weapons remained at the ready, and the journey was taken on foot so that they may navigate freely through the harsh valleys. Though the crusaders were vigilant, and expecting their path to be rife with all manners of Scourge beasts, it was remarkably silence. Things grew tense. Wary, keen eyes were caught sight of stirring shadows just over the valleys, and though the dark figures were quick to scurry, the Truthful would be right to suspect that they were not alone. Nerves were on razor's edge as the group reached the old crossroads, which was one of the few places that could be recognizable amidst the sea of rot and writhing filth that choked the land. Nothing had crossed the crusaders' path to this point, not even a grub, or a zealous beast hungry for warm, living flesh. The veterans that journeyed these cursed lands before took this as a grim portent, as they were much used to carving their way through these roads instead of striding smoothly across them.

The Ambush
Quinn dashed ahead alone, leaving most of his armored compatriots far behind as he disappeared into the haze. They attempted give chase, worried for their expedition's leader, but something else emerged from the mist--their first contact. Soot-coated plate-mail, grinning, steel-hued bones; it was the Black Guard. They were far from a slaughterhouse, and Rivendare had been long since vanquished, yet these elite Scourge soldiers remained, and were set upon the crusaders. The foes were as resolute as they have always been, and kept the Truthful embroiled at the crossroads. Quinn remained nowhere in sight.

The battle raged on, and the undead warriors did not relent. Then came the quake. The ground shook and rattled, and a looming shadow formed beyond fungal canopies. Those tremulous footfalls grew closer and closer, and so did a frantic Quinn.. He had roused something truly terrifying, and it was coming the crusaders' way...       Panic had set in. Quinn was urging for the Truthful to flee, but the way they came was blockaded by a throng of undead knights. Quinn's party had no choice but to flee further into Plaguewood, one path being left open for them to regroup. The giant barreled through the terrain and sundered the defiled earth as it gave chase, lurching, bounding strides keeping just on the heels of the crusaders. It had no compunction in flattening a few of the Black Guard in its way so long as the stench of the living lingered.

An adrenaline filled pursuit lead to the Truthful being cornered in an open valley. It was here the gruesome giant was in full view, and the party had the misfortune of beholding the full breadth of the behemoth; the horrid mountain of corpses, rusted chains, and worn-down iron plating that all formed into a lumbering monolith of rot. It was an abomination like few others. This was a planned, calculated ambush by the evils that lurk Plaguewood, and the Scourge here were a truly vile breed. The amassing force of skeletal warriors and the towering fiend stomping forth most certainly spelled doom for the crusaders...

Then came a roaring command from the cliffs. Rapping cannon-fire shredded the giant in a fiery hail, the bombardment giving the creature pause as it reeled. More crusaders came storming into the valley. They couldn't have been any of the Truthful, however, but these crimson-clad strangers gave aid nonetheless. Quinn's expedition could breathe a little easier now, as these new allies were well prepared.

The ensuing battle was loud, thunderous, but with a massive cannon rampantly unleashing hell upon the giant, it was doomed to succumb. The Black Guard fled quickly after, ordered to bide their strength by the ringing call of their master. Just who were these crusaders? The Truthful were curious. One voice rang familiar to the High Cleric in familiar.

The Sacred Band
They were the Sacred Band, and they were an adaptive force, enduring the constant thinning of their ranks by taking measures accordingly. They did not fight in the open, and much like the Truthful, they employed subterfuge, guerrilla tactics, and swift, destructive strikes against their enemies, leaving nothing for the reanimation. Many journeyed to this front simply on the pretense that it was their duty, and they did not expect to come out alive.

They fought the Baron of Plaguewood and the Black Guard to a standstill, but a renewed, unprecedented vigor in the Scourge remnants allowed the death knight to bide his time, collecting an array of horrors to unleash upon the living. Flamegarde had been planning his assault on the Baron to prevent the rise of even more abominations, and to liberate living allies beyond the gates of Stratholme. It appeared the arrival of the Truthful was fortuitous.

The High Cleric and the Sacred Band's leader already had a lengthy history, so the emigrating crusaders could ease their wariness for now, for it was a reunion in earnest. Flamegarde lead the Truthful into one of the Band's hideouts cleverly built beneath the facade of a Scourge slaughterhouse. Within the network of tunnels was a consecrated bunker for the crusaders to rest, recover, and rearm themselves. Within the following days, the Scarlet forces coordinated their next strike, as well as their foray into the city proper.

Joffrey Flamegarde
"Sir Joffrey Flamegarde, former Highlord of the Scarlet Hammer and member of the Crimson Legion, rekindled an incarnation of the Sacred Band when he journeyed to the Plaguewood on a penitent crusade. Poison from a Forsaken assassin had left him increasingly weak, and after months of suffering he decided he would simply fight the damned till he could no longer. " "By some miracle or divine intervention, Joffrey survived the poison and the treacherous nature of the Plaguewood. He wandered nomadically, liberating Scarlet Crusade remnants that had been captured by the Scourge and urging them to join him in his eternal crusade."



Chapter Two: At the Gates
A spark of hope had emerged as both Whitlock and the Scourge were posed a sizable threat to their position in the Plaguelands. Still, the Brotherhood remained one step ahead of the Crusade, as they were already situated well within Stratholme proper. That, and a fairly significant obstacle stood in the Scarlet coalition's way; the Baron would not be too pleased following the destruction of his creation.

The Baron of Plaguewood
''Within the halls of Naxxramas, a nameless, hopeless, thoroughly defeated man tendered his meaningless existence in life for an undeniable reign of terror in death. Pledged with fierce loyalty to the Rivendare line, this Death Knight had no choice but to take matters into his own hands when both masters of Stratholme were vanquished. Taking on the moniker "Baron of Plaguewood", the knight corralled what he could of the remaining Black Guard and Thuzadin sorcerers to prepare for the days to come. He bolstered his power, capitalizing on the vacuum left in the wake of the Argent Crusade and Silver Hand's campaigns.'' "The Baron was never known to be particularly daring, however. Sir Flamegarde himself challenged the Death Knight many times, only to fall upon silence. Indeed, the Baron cared little for his own honor, and was particularly scornful toward the paladin's ilk for obvious reasons. Thus, he primarily kept the shadows, knowing that he--a lingering agent of Naxxramas--would be hunted mercilessly, not just by Flamegarde, but by countless zealous bands far flung. It came to both the Sacred Band and the Brotherhood's surprise that the Baron was finally bold enough to make his move, setting a colossal monstrosity loose upon the Plaguewood. " "Even now, with his mighty abomination vanquished, the Death Knight is confident that the living will see their final days within the hallowed grounds of the Scourge."

The Truthful were soon to make their strike. Whitlock's brigade would normally be eager to undermine any efforts the Scarlets made, but it seemed the Brotherhood were struggling against a foe of their own, whatever it may be. For now, the appointment would go as planned. The Baron lay in a wait, and the crusaders were soon to be knocking at the gates of the damned.

Quinn once again darted ahead. A pang of unease followed, rippling across the rest of the gathering. The last time the hunter scouted ahead abruptly, he brought back one of the Baron's horrific creations. Luckily, this time, there was not quaking onslaught to contend with; in fact, all blades remained in their sheaths the entire march toward the bridge. Things remained quiet, eerily so. Only the low rumble of Stratholme's cursed pyre seem to carry through the air.

The crusaders would not find Quinn across the river. They found another scout, bloodied and battered; it was young Holcomb. The boy was in fatal condition--flayed, nigh unrecognizable, and gasping for what little air he could. Cruel meathooks were thrust into his arms and spine, and the blood that spilled from his wounds had clotted and dried. He was pale, and barely anything left in his veins. Only divine intervention would save the scout... Paladins, holy knights, and saviors of all kinds were no strangers to wresting the critically wounded back to health. One such paladin of the Sacred Band attempted to do so. The others gathered in wait as he worked his magics and appraised the damage that was done. Something was not right, however. Then came the rasp of steel, and mocking cackle. It resonated like a chorus of chattering insects. Something leaped from the shadows, and the paladin felt a foul essence encroach. A rune-edged blade, sizzling with pestilent magics bit into the enchanted hammer the paladin wielded, and both light and dark clashed. And though the paladin mustered every inch of his holy might to deter the pressing, unholy assailant, the crusader was slammed into stone below. A veteran so easily trounced gave the rest of the Scarlets pause. This foe was not to be taken lightly. A familiar rattling clangor rapidly closed in behind the crusaders. They glanced behind to bear witness to witness a wall of bone and steel. Locked pauldron to pauldron, the Black Guard stepped forth, eager to drive their living foes onto their hind legs. There was no escape... The Sacred Band prepared themselves, and the Truthful set their eyes upon the Baron, hoping to save their comrade, but it was too late"You were excellent bait, little Holcomb. The Master will be pleased with your service. I now release you fro--"

Seething, shadowy essence ripped through Holcomb's throat, finishing off the prisoner in a grisly exsanguination.

!!UNDER CONSTRUCTION!! !!PLACEHOLDER!!
YO WTF FLAKFREAK ENTERS DK POPS DR AND SOAKS IT. MARKUS WASTED HIS BURST AND NOW HE'S SCREWED. SUMMON CHARGER -90% HP TO MARKUS BARON FIGHTS MOUNTED Your items suffer 10% durability loss. Helmet is broken. Markus doesn't do anything for the rest of the fight because his player needed to DM the boss. ---



Father Gregor
''Not much is known about the Cleric referred to only as Father Gregor, even among his most trusted men. He is a tall, aging man, with a bushy grey beard that conceals a scarred countenance, etched with many seasons of war and strife. His thunderous voice shakes the heavens as he preaches with roaring verve. He wields a bludgeoning judge's gavel and a fire-runed libram from which he may call forth the Light. The sheer devotion of this man was evident, as his worn down, plated panoply was covered with tattered scripture, verses, and incantations. Of course, he would need every last written word to draw upon, as he speaks only cryptically, having sworn years ago to speak exclusively in prose written within the religious texts of the Crusade's orthodoxy, bound by oath to never utter words that would profane his tongue.''

"Father Gregor leads one of the two divisions of the Sacred Band. While his followers are fewer in number, they are decidedly the most elite and dangerous the Band has to offer. Of these crusaders are predominately veterans who have sworn a holy vow, making it their duty to defend and hold a chapel guarding one of the few relics that remain the Crusade's hands." --- Another taxing battle. The crusaders hadn't the strength to continue as the were, especially if they were to put an end Whitlock. Quinn's pursuit would have to wait. Adana urged both the Band and the Truthful to seek out the Scarlet Bastion. The Truthful had set their eyes on Crusader's Square long before entering the gates of Stratholme, and the High Cleric in particular wished to visit a place he saw as almost mythical. In his eyes, only providence awaited. Flamegarde was much more apprehensive, but could not say why. Gregor remained enigmatic, and set himself to pray, as this respite was long awaited.

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Finale
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Crusader Lord Ardentlocke
"Even as a tormented echo, the Risen Crusader Lord remains a dangerous foe. One of Dathrohan's most loyal and esteemed knights in life, Sir Jarek Ardentlocke was a terror to both the damned and infidel alike. However, when the dreadlord Balnazzar revealed himself from the mortal guise of the Grand Crusader, a retinue under Sir Jarek boldy attempted to vanquish the nathrezim, only to gravely underestimate the task. They were swiftly slain by Balnazzar's hands, but death would be too simple a release for what the demon had in store for the defiant crusaders. He took glee in knowing that the paladin's own blade and holy fire would spurn its now undead wielder." "Bound by an undying oath, Sir Jarek endures the horrid curse, as he has been compelled by forces beyond his control. He holds hope amidst the torment he bears that he may finally be put to rest, but none have quelled this baleful, revenant knight. Not yet."

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NEXT: Operation: Shades of Black ---