The threat of Varimathras hung over the heads of the newly allied undead leaders like a dark cloud. Sylvanas knew all too well that the Dreadlords were never ones for idle threats; they controlled a vast number of undead in Lordaeron City and its surrounding territories—a force to be reckoned with.
They had to strike first to avoid being caught in a pincer movement. The plan was clear: eliminate Varimathras's forces first, then deal with the remaining two Dreadlords.
"There is no time to lose," Sylvanas said, stowing her longbow as her gaze swept over Straker and Sandro. "We must act immediately. Before Varimathras and his brothers can react, we'll wipe out their stronghold in Tirisfal Glades. Master Sandro, your intelligence is vital. In this battle, we must show the Burning Legion our strength and establish our dominance."
"Precisely, Banshee Queen. Dreadlord magic is deceptive, but they rely too heavily on enslavement and control. Their actual combat prowess is not as formidable as they claim," Rhodes added.
Straker let out a cold snort, the crimson light on his runeblade, Soulshredder, pulsing. "My Death Knights have long thirsted to drink the blood of demons."
After a brief council, a mixed force consisting of Dark Rangers, Banshees, Straker's Blood Dread Death Knights, Abominations, some Wight-Banshees, Zombies, and Skeletons quickly assembled and marched toward the area held by Varimathras's clique.
During the march, Sylvanas intentionally moved closer to the Necromancer "Sandro," seeking more information.
"Master Sandro, you say you transformed into an undead long ago and have been studying necromancy ever since. Tell me... what is your view on this current 'free' state of the undead? Are we merely another form of slave, driven by a hunger for vengeance and survival?"
"Freedom is always relative, my lady," Rhodes (as Sandro) replied. "The living are bound by desire, morality, and social rules. The dead are bound by the obsessions of their past lives, the confusion of their existence, and... more powerful forces. The key is not whether one is bound, but for what goal one chooses to fight. The Lich King seeks to dominate all; the Burning Legion craves destruction. But we... perhaps we can attempt to build an order belonging only to the dead. A place of rest undisturbed by the living and unmanipulated by demons. Is that not more meaningful than mere revenge?"
The Banshee Queen actually began to ponder these questions. Ordinarily, at this stage, Sylvanas's mind should have been filled with nothing but thoughts of killing Arthas and seeking revenge. Such existential questions usually wouldn't occur until after she leaped from Icecrown Glacier, entered the Shadowlands, and witnessed the "truth" under Zovaal's guidance.
"Build an order, Master Sandro? Easier said than done," Sylvanas remarked, casting a pointed glance at Straker, who was clearing the path ahead. "The living see us as monsters, the demons see us as tools, and even among ourselves, we are not of one mind." She could tell the powerful Death Knight was obsessed with power and ruling the free undead, but did those who had been enslaved for so long truly need a king?
"That depends on your personal realization, my lady. I can only say: first, live on in this state of undeath, and then slowly consider the rest. We have simply changed our state of being; there is no need to agonize over it too much," Rhodes said.
When we get back, maybe I can discuss the meaning of life with her further. Purely academic, of course—I haven't reached the point of being desperate enough to chase an undead woman. After all, I have a warm, soft High Elf girl waiting at home!
Sylvanas nodded thoughtfully. Throughout the march, the two discussed many things, ranging from magical theory to the modification of undead constructs. Rhodes remotely linked with the real Sandro to maintain a high level of discourse. Sandro's research into undeath surpassed Sylvanas's understanding; his insights into the nature of death left the Banshee Queen deeply impressed, even borderline admiring.
Sandro, being arguably the greatest Necromancer from the Heroes of Might and Magic world, possessed knowledge that shocked even Rhodes. He proposed modifications for specialized undead units that were entirely alien to Azeroth's conventional necromancy.
"Your ideas are truly inspired," Sylvanas praised. "Compared to you, the so-called Lich King or Kel'Thuzad are mere children. I cannot find the words to describe your wisdom."
A few simple conversations had resolved many of her doubts, especially regarding her own Banshee form. She marveled at the fact that a human who lived for a thousand years could possess a civilization's worth of knowledge—far outstripping an Elf of the same age.
Hours passed, and the army soon reached a manor corrupted by demonic energy. Once the estate of a Lordaeron noble, it was now a Dreadlord's nest. The air stank of fel, and swarms of low-level demons and enslaved undead wandered the ruins.
"Attack!" Straker gave the order without ceremony. The Blood Dread Death Knights charged like a crimson tide of steel, instantly shredding the outer defenses.
Varimathras had not expected them to strike so fast. He had barely returned from a phantom meeting with his brothers, Detheroc and Balnazzar, when the assault began. Sylvanas's Dark Rangers took the high ground, picking off Felguards and Necromancers with surgical precision. The Banshees let out piercing wails to disrupt the enemy's focus, while the Wight-Banshees used their specialized skills to siphon mana from the Legion's casters.
Rhodes, playing his part as Sandro, began his performance. He restricted himself to Shadow, Frost, and Fel spells, avoiding any Holy or Life magic. Through his Eagle Eye skill during the battle with Kel'Thuzad, he had already "stolen" several Necromancer spells, alongside powerful Frost and Shadow abilities.
Varimathras was indeed caught off guard. "These wretched dregs! How dare they!" the demon roared, unfurling his massive wings as he soared from the crumbling manor. He saw his lines collapsing under the red Death Knights and his casters being silenced by the Banshees. Worse still, he felt his own mana being drained by those strange, spectral wights.
"Hold your ground, slaves! For the Burning Legion, crush them!" Varimathras bellowed, attempting to stabilize the situation. He began channeling a massive Shadow Bolt aimed directly at the charging Straker.
Straker snorted, swinging Soulshredder in a horizontal arc. The burst of blood-light actually cleaved the concentrated shadow energy in two! However, the impact slowed his momentum. A Dreadlord was still a powerful demon lord, after all.
"Your opponent is here, demon!" Sylvanas's cool voice rang out. Standing on a ruined wall, she drew her bow to a full moon, a concentrated arrow of dark energy locked onto Varimathras. The demon conjured a fel shield just in time, the arrow exploding against it in a corrosive burst that made the barrier flicker violently.
Then, Rhodes acted. Without any flashy gestures or incantations—relying on the instant-cast nature of Heroes magic—he raised his staff.
The biting cold in the air intensified, seemingly freezing the very fel energy in the atmosphere. This was the spell he had "borrowed" from Kel'Thuzad: Frost Chain.
Several chains of pure frost appeared out of thin air, lashing around Varimathras like living serpents. The intense cold instantly bound the Dreadlord tight. Varimathras, refusing to be caught, burst into a swarm of bats to reform several yards away.
"Cursed Necromancer!" Varimathras glared at Sandro, realizing this new mage was a massive problem. He unleashed his signature Sleep spell, but the invisible psychic wave vanished the moment it touched Sandro, as if hitting an unmovable wall. Such level of hypnosis was useless against Rhodes.
"Your parlor tricks do not work on me, Nathrezim," Sandro's raspy voice mocked. He flicked his staff again, this time unleashing a spell stolen from a Faceless One: Shadow Lash. A twisting whip of shadow struck Varimathras directly on his bald head, the soul-searing pain forcing a muffled groan from the demon.