a tale of brotherhood

A vast, oppressive corridor within Icecrown Citadel. Frost-coated chains dangle from the vaulted ceiling, swaying slightly in the cold air. The faint sound of distant wailing echoes through the halls. Agarth "Glacialaxe" and Nastarian tread carefully, their armor glinting faintly in the icy light. Shadows dance around them as they move like specters. Nastarian (whispering): "These halls were built to swallow armies whole. Think we’ll make it to the throne without waking half the Citadel?" Glacialaxe (gruffly): "If we don’t, I’ll cleave my way through. Same as always." Nastarian (grinning): "Your subtlety is unmatched, truly."

Nastarian halts abruptly, his eyes narrowing as he scans the floor ahead. A faint shimmer reveals a rune trap etched into the ice. Nastarian (whispering, urgent): "Hold up! Rune trap. You walk into that, and we’re both done for." Glacialaxe (scowling): "...Didn’t see it." Nastarian (half-smiling): "That’s why I’m here. Now, stay still."

Close-up of Nastarian kneeling beside the trap. His fingers trace the edges of the rune, carefully disrupting its magic with a small, glowing shard of saronite. In the background, Glacialaxe watches, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. Glacialaxe (thinking): "Always watching my back. Fool of an elf..." As Nastarian works, a faint blue glow reflects in Glacialaxe’s eyes, triggering the memory of another faint blue light—magic from Scarlet Crusade spells during the ambush.

(Flashback) Agarth "Glacialaxe" is surrounded in the Plaguelands, the swirling yellow mist of decay all around him. Scarlet Crusade soldiers encircle him, their shields up and weapons ready. He grips his axe tightly, blood dripping from a wound on his forehead.

Glacialaxe (thinking): "Outnumbered, outmatched. Just another damnable day under the Lich King's banner."

The moment turns as Nastarian charges into the fray, his crimson armor striking a stark contrast against the golden haze. His sword glows with unholy energy as he cuts through two soldiers with a single, precise sweep. Nastarian (shouting): "Don’t just stand there, Glacial! Move!"

The two stand back-to-back as more Scarlet Crusade soldiers converge on them. Glacialaxe’s strikes are wild and powerful, while Nastarian’s are controlled and efficient. Glacialaxe (thinking): "A blood elf, saving me? Is this what madness feels like?"

The final Crusader falls. Nastarian extends a hand to the injured Glacialaxe, offering a rare, sincere smile. Nastarian: "Guess we’re even now. Try not to get surrounded again, alright?" Glacialaxe (gruffly): "Don’t push your luck. But... thanks."

Return to Present Back in Icecrown, Nastarian finishes disarming the trap. He looks up at Glacialaxe with a knowing smile, as though he senses the memory stirring in his comrade’s mind. Nastarian: "Trap’s clear. I told you I’d always have your back." Panel 2 Glacialaxe grunts, brushing past him, though a flicker of warmth softens his usual scowl. Glacialaxe: "Don’t get cocky. Let’s keep moving." As they continue deeper into the Citadel, the faint sound of clattering bones and guttural growls grows louder. Both grip their weapons tightly, readying for the next challenge.