Grand Arcanist: A Warcraft Fanfiction

Aethas locked himself inside his room for days, carefully laying down the intricate details of his vision for a perfect magical staff, he has the best possible materials that could make any mages turn green out of envy, all he needs to do is take his time on this one matter.

Follow what the blueprint stated.

After spending a week fixing up what needed, the first stage of his magical staff is complete, made from the branch of the world tree and other exotic materials to not only include part of a Pit Lord, forged using the flame of the twisting nether, and inscribed with demon magic, all crafted under the hand of an Apprentice Mage.

After adding in the finishing touch, which was the Core of the Mana elemental from the Sanctum of the Moon as the focusing Iris for the staff, everything is completed.

The moment Aethas finished glueing in the jewel onto the staff, the weapon immediately radiated an intense amount of fiery Fel magical aura that could make any mortal uncomfortable just being near it!

"You definitely need a name… you were forged by my hand to be my one and only weapon, to serve my purpose of destroying my enemies and protecting my family, an irony for what I used to create you… your name shall be." Aethas grasped tightly onto the body of the staff and held it up gently.

"Fin'Felo, the Final Flame." a fitting name for a weapon that Aethas will use to set his enemies and possibly this world and countless others in a sea of infernal.

*Dang *Dang *Dang --- *Dang *Dang *Dang a set of three tower bells sounded from the town square.

After the rebuilding of Tranquillien, Aethas proposed that the town build a large bell tower in the center of town to use for signalling and communication with the town residents and garrisons in time of crisis, never in his mind that he thought it would be used this early.

The three bells signal in the interval of two mean that they're under attack.

What baffled Aethas was, who had the balls to actually attack a town that was protected by a magical barrier and a small standing army?

"What the hell is going on? Who's attacking us?" Aethas went out and grabbed one of the nearby guards and questioned him.

"Sir! It's the Scourge! The patrol team spotted a raiding party heading our direction!" After informing Aethas he quickly ran off and joined the rank of the town guards, ready to defend the settlement with their very life if need be.

Scourge! They really begged for attention now of all time? Aethas wasn't planning on messing with the Lich King Army just yet, he was planning on annihilating Zul'Jin and his little army of menacing pests that one called the "Amani Trolls".

Zul'Jin from the Warcraft history was a Warlord and Chieftain of the Amani Forest Troll Tribe in the Eastern Kingdom, during the Second War and the reopening of the Dark portal, he allied with the Horde against the human kingdoms and the High Elves.

However unfortunately for him, he got his a.s.s kicked and captured, but soon escaped and rebuilding his Army to attack the remnant of the High Elves, now known as the Blood Elves, but unexpectedly- they Allied themselves with the Horde which cornered the once proud- but idiotic Warlord of the Forest Trolls.

The history of his people and the troll dated back for thousands of years, approximately 2,800 years prior when the High Elves migrated North from Tirisfal Glade to what now known as Quel'Thalas and built their magnificent city on top of the sacred ground of the Amani Empire, for thousands of years, they have fought countless skirmishes, so much blood has shedded now that it is impossible to reconcile with the forest Troll, one of them must be destroy for there to be peace… or some form of semblance for peace.

Aethas could only let out a long sigh… Race War is a bitch he thoughted, but what can he do about it? Azeroth and possibly countless other worlds have been plagued by such wars for centuries, millenia… it's part of their culture by now, as long as there is hatred, there will be war, but that is for another story, for now- destroying the invading scourge is his first priority.

Aethas glared at the gloomy horizon as he clenched onto Fin'Felo.

The Scourge shall be cleansed from Ghostlands once and for all, Aethas declared with conviction, they shall be his first test subject against the power of the soon to be mighty artifact.

Standing on top of a building, Aethas glare dagger at the incoming swarm of undead scourges, consisting of mainly skeletal soldiers and occasionally some zombies and ghouls, nothing too major in his opinions, the only problem was the numbers, there must be at least a hundred or two of them shambling toward Tranquillien.

"Farstrider! Ready your arrow!" Aethas father, Theramar commanded the Farstrider archers as he drew his great blade, waiting for the shambling horde of undead to draw closer.

By then the townguards had long been mobilized and formed a tight rank with sword and shield in hand, forming a wall blocking the undead.

"RELEASE THE ARROWS!" Theramar roared and a hailstorm of arrows with mini-explosive marble modification soon unleashed upon the swarm of rotting corpses, as the arrow landed on their body, it immediately exploded and sent bits and pieces everywhere on the field, the volley devastated the swarm, reducing their number by nearly half.

"Mens! MARCH!" Theramar finished it off by commanding his troop to march forward in a tight rank formation of shield wall.

When the two sides collided it was a one side massacre, the undead cannot even scratch upon the invincible shield walls of well trained and disciplined guardsmen.

"This is too easy, am I just being overly too paranoid?" Aethas thought, it was then that something broke this train of thought, a hook attached to an iron chain shot toward the formation and made a hole in it.

"I...f.u.c.k.i.n.g knew it." Aethas facepalmed, there's always a big guy in every mess that he's involved in, the last one was a giant Arcane Elemental and an angry Pit Lord, now it was a big flesh monster that was known as an Abomination… dubbed by his Forsaken ally.

"Quickly! Fill in the rank! The formation cannot be broken!" Theramar commanded as he heroically leaped toward the monster with the blade over his head.

"Dad, seriously you are an Elf! Not an Orc! Why do you have to be such a brute! Show some finesse will you!" Aethas cursed loudly, it has been a year since they moved to the Ghostland, and his father never once came home without some form of injuries on his body after going for some patrol mission, all of that come from the fact that he always jump head first into the carnage without a care for his very life.

Seeing Theramar come flying toward its face, the Abomination just made a light sweep using its giant meaty hand, practically swatting away a fly, sending Theramar crashing onto the nearby wall.

"See?" Aethas sighed before raising Fin'Felo high in the air and began gathering mana from the air itself, which was saturated with an insane amount of mana thanks to the Arcane Sanctum,

"Final Flame!" he shouted the name of the spell, no it wasn't a spell, this is a special ability that came with the creation of the Demonic Artifact, imbued with the essence of a Pit Lord.

The image of a raging Pit Lord head materialized around the Jewel with its mouth wide open full of Fel Fire, all hell was unleashed onto the field, the Abomination doesn't even realized what just happened and were quickly consumed by the Fel demonic fire, searing both it body and soul, reducing it to nothing but ashes, along with countless other undead creatures.

This scene caused shock among the troops and Theramar himself as he looked toward the direction of the spell, the one who casted it was nothing but a young teenager barely the age of 15, it was indeed his son.