The Dread of Zath'alub

The campaign against a nascent blood cult beginning in 39 L.C. was one of the earliest undertaken by the 5th Legion. This 5 month-long operation took the myriad troops of the unit across multiple continents tracking and investigating the cult until finally laying siege to their temple city in Northrend. This campaign would later be known as the Dread of Zath'alub.

Prologue
It is a hot and muggy day in Fairshire. Porters and peasants sweat under the baking sun, carrying crates of ammunition, supplies, foodstuffs, and water to The Interceptor. The sixth-rate air frigate sat slumbering upon the airfield, cavernous holds open with ramps down. Engineers, tinkers, and quartermasters crawled over every inch of the ship, preparing her for the journey...

"So you're sure the freezing problem is solved?" spoke the large warrior. Rubbing at his golden beard, Markus looked toward the Chief Engineer. "I don't want any surprises once we arrive."

"Aye sah. She'll run a bit rough at first, but the heat exchangers will work . I promise yah. Run her hard and rich once you get there and she'll nae stall. Just don't land 'er."

Markus looked at the ship. Fuel lines hooked to the tanks pumped liquid phlogiston by the barrel. He narrowed his eyes in thought, unsure if the ship could stand the seizing cold of Northrend even with the modifications. He did not show it.

"Good work, Sootwrench. Carry on." Salutes were exchanged, and Markus made his way back to the command tent.

Theodora was inside, briefing the officers on the landing plans. Pointing to a map emphatically and gripping her sword hilt with excited white knuckles. Her first venture back out in some time. Markus poured a goblet of wine as he listened, turning to watch the end of the briefing.

As the collected officers nodded their understanding to her final demanding query, a familiar whirring sound was heard outside. Tonnes-heavy rotors of the great airship's engines began to spin slowly as fuel lines were disconnected. Platoon whistles were heard, shouts of soldiers leaving the barracks in double time to board The Interceptor.

Time to go.

Day One: Extremis
The 5th Legion strike team had made their landing and moving into the deep dark tunnels leading to the city proper. Through icy caverns and spider infested holes, the team crawled more than a kilometer to their final destination. There, dropping down an icy sloped tunnel and unceremoniously dumped just outside the city, they would peer up and see the sunken city before them. Illuminated by a cold light, the abandoned Nerubian citadel sat undisturbed beneath the ice.

Day Two: Mortis
Battered and bruised, the 5th Legion team was now cut off from the surface. Having taken refuse in Dr. Blighthouser's lab, they one by one got some badly needed rest and healing. Those who stood watch were troubled by the sounds of a man's torture in the distance, echoes in the deep halls. But then, at times it sounded like it could be anything. The wind, perhaps, or some manner of terrible beast. From the only exit door out of the lab, the forboding stench of the Plague Level seeped through. What vile wretches and abominations lay ahead for the team? What new horror would they face tonight? As the Commander and Field Marshal one by one pulled the group from their rest, all began to realize they would seen be forced to face the next floor of Zath'alub !

Day Three: Arachnis
Having narrowly survived Bilebelch though without claiming victory over him, the 5th have found themselves in a sticky situation! As they battled the monstrous abomination, the floor itself gave way under them all! Bilebelch was left suspended above the pit by his own rusty chains, but the group tumbled seemingly to their deaths below him. Thankfully, the many ancient Nerubians and their devolved ilk had left that particular hole rife with webs and nets.

Easily caught, and thankfully safe, the 5th must now make their way to the Vampire laid through an alternate route - directly through ancient tombs and corridors, where monsters far more malevolent then undead make their home...

Day Four: Sanguis
The 5th Legion strike team has managed to best nearly every fight thrown at them, and stumbled across the path to the Vampire's Lair within the sprawling city of Zath'alub once again! Standing at the bottom of a long and narrow staircase many stories high, they can only see the sickly red light from the top, where surely something foul is amiss. Hearing the laughter of their foe, and an invitation from him to approach - who are they to decline?

Day Five: Finis
Luther von Hessler is dead. Sacrificed on the altar by his own father, the man is a tragic example of what blind vengeance leads you to. Only by standing together, as the 5th Legion did, can one hope to achieve anything. Though harrowing and costly, the fight against the Kraven's "Sanguine Court" was a victory nonetheless. Pyrrhic, to be sure. Blood Baron Kraven, the vampire ancient, had finally been awakened and awaits the group below the ritual chamber. The final moments of closure, the final battle, begins tonight.

Epilogue
Commander Stonewall solemnly lead the group from the tomb. It would be a long trip back to the surface, but the end of ‘Kraven’, his followers, and the Cult of Blood meant they could trust that the trip will at least be uneventful. Many had suffered during the dreadful week. They had all horrible experiences not so easily forgotten, yet valuable lessons on trust and camaraderie were learned nonetheless.

Magytherida had proven to be a powerful ally, and her trust in the 5th Legion was not proven to be misplaced. She would return one day, when they need her most, and pay everything back in spades. Sometimes, those of a more Lawful Evil persuasion are useful ‘allies’ to have on hand.

In the following weeks, the Alliance sent many demolition teams to collapse the entrance tunnels to Zath’alub. Through dynamite and charge, the Grand Alliance made sure that nobody would ever perish in those cursed halls again… and nothing again would ever escape.

The Lantern of Final Rest was taken to Dalaran by the Kirin Tor, where it could be kept safely contained and watched over. Yet, to many, there was always the nagging feeling that they’d see the creature trapped inside again one day.

Luther von Hessler’s remains were brought by his friends. He was buried in a small plot at Stormwind Cemetery with full military honors. Attended by his friends and colleagues, the funeral saw that he would be remembered as a good friend and loyal to the end. His gravestone was inscribed with two simple words:

‘For Her.'