World of Wheezes

by Byakugan789

If a misplaced butterfly in japan could cause tornadoes in London imagine what George Weasley could do in the world of warcraft... A tale of might and magic, for you r enjoyment, welcome to the ultimate expression of Murphy's law as ten years after the war with Voldemort the surviving twin tears apart the best lain plans of mice and men.

10. Fist Wave

As the revelers flooded into the confines of the new city George, the council and Tryande walked calmly, seemingly surrounded by an invisible impenetrable barrier of calm. On second thought, there might actually be a barrier there... the British wizard mused, casting out his wandless magic to feel for the proposed spell. These were the seven most powerful and respected magical minds on the planet... two of them weren't even mortal in the regular sense.

"So..." George said quietly to the night elf noble as they made their way towards a nearby portal plaza "I know you said you met me 10 thousand years ago, but how exactly do we know each other? I know magic's a bit more powerful here, but to the best of my knowledge movement through time is limited. If I remember my polydimentional arithmancy correctly you can only access points in time that won't alter things the traveler has been influenced by. Any-when or action that would facilitate changes to the circumstances of the original travel event requires literally godlike power to approach, and forgive me, but I can't think that anyone here has that kind of potential behind them. Priestess of a literal goddess and ten thousand year old dragon mage or not... no offense."

"None taken, little wizard." Krasus smirked. "Coincidentally though, dragons do indeed hold just that type of power. The bronze flight in particular polices time to guard against exactly the sort of interferences as you suggested." Privately though, the ancient wyrm was worried. The aspect of time was caught in the throws of a massive temporal disturbance and the evidence just kept building up. While the instability was beginning to settle itself, George was indeed the focal point of the change and Korilistraz couldn't help but worry whether or not this was a good thing. One of the big things that was staying his hand on the mortals behalf was an old conversation with the Keeper Alurmi where the time lost dragoness had explained how robust the titans had made time here when their wars with the old ones had caused reality itself to fracture. As many as a dozen paths could lead to futures similar enough to survive temporal interference and even then multiple lines of probability still existed simultaneously. It was unlikely George would destroy their world, but whether he would improve it or damn it was another matter entirely and the world was already in enough peril as it was.

"Right..." George replied, eyes wide.

The priestess Whisperwind smiled softly as they reached the main gates portal courtyard. "You forget though, use of self supporting time loops massively reduces the cost of movement. Self supporting time-line's, like prophesy's, often depend on events spawned by their existence in order to actually occur. In this case when the possibility for travel exists, sometimes the circumstances that allowed you to travel to begin with are caused by the actions you performed in the past. Our meeting here as I understand it closes the loop on my end and opens it on yours. The world will still survive if you don't begin your journey after Archimonde's death in this war but each past victory, and this one in particular, will be much more costly on many levels, so no pressure or anything..." She put a hand to George's cheek and smiled fondly. "I would also likely be different for the loss of my friends." she said before turning and following the councilors guards through one of the portals leaving the stunned dragon an ruling council behind.

"I think I like her." Hermione said from her mirror and George laughed.

~! #$%^&*()_+

Jaina strode purposefully into the chamber of the Oracle, flanked by the trailing figures of Duke Lionheart, Lor'Danil, Hrunting Wildhammer, Bishop Skyleaf, Thrall, Vol'jin and Cairne Bloodhoof. Hopping off Sirius's back the animagus drew his claws along the ground and conjured a massive couch in the middle of the chamber. Most of the party looked at in trepidation, likely never having seen such powers displayed by any magic user let-alone one that most of them assumed to be an animal. Jaina and Sirius however merely spread out across the soft leather cushions and waited for the rest of the group to slowly join them.

The temple chamber around them was sweltering as much of the rest of the construct. The place was Gothic with sweeping stone walls and arches, odd creatures hewn roughly from the stone and glowing runed crystal obelisks interspersed across the walls. The entire place was lit with a cherry glow that suffused the room, rising from the slowly flowing rivers of magma some hundred feet down off either side of the chamber. *Pleasant place, you old feather duster...* Sirius drawled.

As the various leaders looked at the grim animagus in confusion and consternation the air filled with a palpable sense of amusement. *Eloquent as always, mangy fleabag.* Everyone tensed as the voice of the prophet echoed in their heads and Grom Hellscream in particular, standing behind where Thrall sat, looked ashen. Without any further fanfare or theatrics like normally expected of mages a massive raven appeared before the assembled group.

"Great spirit..." Jaina resisted turning to see who all had spoken the reverent words, but she recognized the voices of Thrall, Cairne, Thane Hrunting, and Hellscream.

*Greetings, mortal heroes. Please, allow me to assume a more communicable form. Time is short and there is much to explain.* With that the wind in the cavern began to pick up, carrying with it large amount of dust and ash from the pits of fire illuminating the room. As it gathered and swirled around the enormous bird the mass of dirt shrunk before solidifying into the robed form of the Prophet who had first convinced Thrall and then Jaina to flee Lorderan.

"Spirit, Oracle and Prophet?" Thrall growled out, leaning forward as Medhivs face was revealed at last "What treachery is this? Who are you really?"

"A guardian of this world and it's people" the formerly dead guardian replied with a simple smile on both his face and his voice. "Once one of the last, but now again one of many." He looked around at the gathered warriors, each a hero and leader of their race, both in the past, futures past and hopefully for a great time yet. "Though I yet still see a clear division among you I must say I am impressed. So many futures stood before you, and yet so few led to this particular conversation. As I'm sure you've realized by now, what with your relative armistice that only together will you survive the storm that approaches."

"Yes," Lor'Danil drawled "What exactly IS that storm, if you don't mind? I have plenty enough faith in Princess Proudmoore to follow her lead and enough of a brain to see the vast potential this new, or perhaps more accurately old, land offers my people, but without a clear threat beyond the Orcs" there was a snarling from the right side of the room "I hardly see a reason to continue this talk... meaning no offense, Jaina."

"None taken, Lor'Danil. Your people have suffered the most from the pets of Medhiv and Sargaras..." the blond sorceress queen replied, not looking at him, but directly in the Prophet's eyes.

Medhiv scowled. This was not going nearly as well a he had hoped. They had managed to survive all of the traps and obstacles of the trip down as a fellowship of enemies, why did things have to go sour now? "I've had enough of this!" Thrall thundered, standing sharply from his cushion. "Unless the Legion itself has come in full force I will not lay here and take these insults from a human! We are a free people and a far cry from the marauders who burnt your lands! You would do well to curb and consider the thrust of your words lest history repeat itself!"

"Funny that..." Medhiv rasped quietly, his voice still somehow enough to cut through the orc's ire and silence the Alliance group before they could spark further feuding. "The Legion being on the warpath is indeed the reason I have called you all together." Everyone in the room looked at him in shock and not a little horror.

"Then... Lorderan?"

Medhiv bowed his head, drawing cries of anguish and despair from half of the company.

"H-how... how long ago?" Jaina asked.

"A little over three months ago. You left at the opportune time, child. For that I thank you." He looked at the rest of the Alliance group in turn. "I understand it is poor and bitter comfort to you, but know that there was nothing you could have done to stop this, your exodus across the seas and up the Stonetallon mountain range has saved the races of Human, Dwarf, Gnome and Elf." Then he turned to the Horde members and nodded towards them as well. "And the enlightened avoidance of conflict with the migrating races has left us all with a far greater population that may just yet survive. On all sides. You have my thanks."

Medhiv paused, seeming to ponder something deeply for a some time as he regarded Grom, at the end of the line. "The future I promised the Orcish people is not far from my mind, young Grommash, Thrall. Mannoroth has, just this morning, arrived and even now prepares to recollect your forces once more beneath his tyranny as he did on Draenor. In the barrens, near the oasis where you first battled alongside the Tauren he seeks to reform the bloodpact with your people. He plots there with the Dreadlord Bel'savis. If they are not killed they may soon find a way to revive the bloodpact and doom your race once again to the Legions will."

At this pronouncement Thrall stood abruptly. "Then we must go now!"

With a gesture the fabric or reality tore, forming a portal just beyond the human fortifications at the base of the Stonetallon mountains. "Remember Thrall, It is Hellscream who must strike the killing blow. While any death will further weaken the Legions hold on the hearts and minds of your people, only the stroke of the betrayer can truly cleanse them of the pact."

With that the Orcs nodded and plunged out of the hole to gather their troops.

Jaina whispered into Sirius ear and the scruffy, dark haired wizard turned his head around and barked *Expecto Patronum*. With the words a silvery white wolf burst forth causing an exclamation of awe from the remaining audience as the room briefly filled with a sense of peace and playfulness before the magical construct disappeared over the bridge. Shortly after the rest of the orcs, three champion warriors, and the rest of the raiding party entered the chamber the Pantronus at their head. As the orcs left to follow their leaders Medhiv swept his gaze across the rest. The Tauren spoke calmly with the Dwarfs and Paladins, Jaina and Sirius had gathered around an unconscious night elf and her tiger and none of them were moving to help.

"Jaina, have you hear nothing that I said? This world will face the flame unless ALL the mortal races unite against the Legion. Orcs, humans and elves most of all. The orcs move even now to strike at the Legions as they prepare their beachhead, would you not go to their aid?"

The blond former apprentice sighed heavily, turning away from her subordinates and friends to face the Prophet. "I left a tracking spell on Thrall and his dog Hellscream, Medhiv. I wasn't about to let them roam free regardless of your machinations. We can catch up to them at any point through my portals and while charging in blind and hitting the enemy till he stops getting up may be the domain of the Horde, the alliance, and more importantly my alliance prefer to have some sort of plan beyond pointy end goes into the other man. That means gathering troops, scrying the battlefield, sending in heroes to gather information, possibly even the preparation of fortifications like we've been doing all up and down these mountains. A great many of my men are tied up in dealing with the regions Khobold infestation, skirmishes with the harpy queens and even more with turning this place into not only a home, but a proper, defensible, survivable fortress. So no, I will not rush out pellmell like I did with Arthas. I learned my lesson last time. When the time is right to fight, I have and shall continue to do so."

The two of them stared at each other for some time, the tension in the room mounting to a near physical force. "A well reasoned argument, Lady Proudmore, but do not tarry too long. It is an alliance of all races that will survive against the legion. They are endless, and we are not. The order and leadership of the humans, the strong arm or the Orcs and their friends and the divine might of the Night Elves and their gods will illuminate the shadow and save this world from the flame, missing even one will spell disaster."

~! #$%^&*()_+

Arthas glowered down upon the frozen wastes of the Dragonblight. The icy core of Northrend, just south of his lords glacier, was filled with bones of literally millions of dragons. Blue, red, black, even the etherial green on the far south eastern shore. Entire mountains could be built just with their skulls and he unearthed more every day. The problem was the sheer amount of magic it took to animate most of them. Dragon bone was incredibly magical, and well guarded by the living leviathans, as even the smallest chip of bone could be fashioned, with the right rituals, into a totem allowing the user to access an impressive fraction of the former bearers maximum capabilities.

The simple thought of what he could do with a flight of dragons at his beck and call almost made him feel warm again.

The problem in this case though was not the extreme difficulty in raising the beasts from their graves, as the souls had been too long departed to call back, or retrieving the bones, as they faced resistance from the surviving members of these ancestors related flights; no, his... problem was that some form of magic had begun appearing on various skeletons he was trying to assemble making them seem to phase in and out of existence, disappearing from the hands of his thieving ghouls only to appear mere feet away fresh and with meat on them, or turn to dust when they had been certain for half of the trek that the bones were still usable. Yesterday a couple of skeletons even gathered themselves together and formed shadowy apparitions of their former lives around them to terrorize his grave-robbers.

He had interrogated the much diminished and once again resurrected Kel'thusald on the issue and it seemed that time itself had been broken. The past was changing and until it settled the condition of the bones would be suspect as they were now trying to decide exactly how they had died. This made little sense to the traitorous prince, but if there was something capable of affecting the time stream on such a scale... then perhaps...

He clamped down on those thoughts as the whispering presence of his master grew once more in his mind. Those were thoughts for when he was under less stringent observation, for now he was turning his efforts onto the deeper buried 'proto-drakes' ancestors of the current flights which possessed a far wider range of colors and abilities and were significantly more stable, having apparently avoided the time stream where things were in flux. They were burried deeper and not generally as large as the dragons, but their stability made them worth the extra effort.

He was dimly aware of the ebb and flow of his masters forces on the other continents and quite surprised to learn that there were indeed two more aside from Northrend, but that was all. On one continent the entire force has been destroyed by completely overwhelming magics while the other had only just begun to establish a beachhead alongside their new, or perhaps old, demon masters.

~! #$%^&*()_+

Images used to reference Onyxia's human look moved to Profile page, for those who are interested. Sorry for my disasters in trying to describe it.

~! #$%^&*()_+

Onyxia, princess of the black dragon flight slammed into a peak overlooking Stomwind in a kneeling position, her landing causing a crater thirty feet across and blowing snow and shrapnel everywhere. Standing and dusting herself off the insane dragoness walked her mostly human form to the edge of the crater, reformed the stone there into an elaborate throne of heated rock and sat down to cast her senses down upon the habitation. She wondered briefly how she should proceed. Going back in as Lady Kartana Prestor had its uses, but not nearly as many as there were before when her cover as a human noble of Alterac was in tact. It would require a lot of spells and manipulation to find the information she sought and it would be quicker done by just being open about it.

She could also go in as a dragon and demand the red wizards whereabouts, there were few enough who could stand a chance of harming her in the city and she hardly intended to allow herself in range of their enchanted weapons long enough for it to matter. Humans were so disloyal they'd probably just GIVE her the information so that they didn't have to deal with the question of whether or not they could win against her.

A third way that sprung to mind was to transform into something less...conspicuous and simply start asking around, but considering the number enchantments she was laboring under the mages, who were most likely to know of her humans location, would doubtless become suspicious of her in short order. ...well, if they had any sort of skill that was.

"Within me I hold unlimited power and before me lies endless possibility... decisions, decisions, decisions..." she muttered, a smirk on her lips.

Spreading her wings the dragon-girl considered her options. There was an aura of fear and uncertainty gripping the city. Something had happened recently to change things, and from the level of unease she sensed in the minds of the populous, changed in a big way. Making a decision she wrapped her power around her like a cloak, the power of shadow magic allowing her to slip between shafts of light, unseen. She would seek out her old pawn Edwin VanClief. Cunning, hardworking and shrewd, the worm had always managed to be of use to her before. He would be the easiest target to manipulate that may yet hold some clue to the information she sought.

As the princess glided lazily down the mountain her mind was torn between reveling in the sensation of the wind playing through her hair and across the significantly more sensitive human flesh of her current form and reviewing her memories of VanClief. A member of the Stormwind Intelligence Guild Division Seven, her own personal addition to the kingdom, VanClief had been placed within the Stormwind Masons Guild as their finger in the pie. A hardworking man by nature and skilled with his hands, he had easily made it into the upper levels of the organization. The man also possessed a minor talent for shadow magic, a talent she had encouraged, leading to him and Mathais Shaw developing a new breed of rogue within the human sheep. His vice was actually his pride. It had been only too easy to turn him against the young king over the failure to pay the Masons for their invaluable work, a plot that she herself had actually controlled, though how he hand never figured that out was beyond even her. He was the one she had paid to throw the brick that would have, should have, killed queen Tiffin.

If not for the wizard.

Had he known? He couldn't possibly have known, she had always been careful. The demons were in the details and she had been a savant of that field for thousands of years. But somehow he had stopped the very assassin who would have set her up to take over all of southern Azeroth. Something that carefully planned couldn't have been foiled by happenstance. Even had that plan failed, what of her contingencies? There were an even dozen more she had mapped out and set to seed...

What Onyxia didn't know, the truth of the matter, was that most of her plans hinged on the nobles who had been arrested while she had been asleep and the rest upon the unrest that would have resulted from Queen Tiffins death. With the nobles who were easily driven by greed and the dragonesses promises of power languishing in prison and then later burnt and dead during her tussle with Medhiv the nobles who most exemplified the name were free to pull the realm into shape, leading the people to build and grow rather than suppressing them with taxes and jackbooted thugs. With those arrests, gone were the worst of the bureaucrats and the riots plaguing the kingdom. Because the military forces were no longer tied down dealing with rioters or being stonewalled by the nobles, other plans that had previously proceeded smoothly, such as the Khobolds, Gnolls, and Arrane, were cleared up fairly quickly by the surge in reinforcements. The Murlocks were hunted down shortly after they showed up and had quickly become much apart of the local fish markets while the Defias wouldn't have a chance to occur.

Also, without Dalaran's fall and because of their subsequent evacuation of most of the civilian populations of Alterac, Arathor, Eastern Lorderan and Quel'thalas the number of able bodies for the scourge to add to their ranks had been drastically thinned. The number of strongholds offering a resistance became fewer as they banded together into larger and more concentrated strongholds populated of veteran warriors, priests, mages and paladins rather then being drained by needing to train and care for frightened and generally useless civilians. This in turn made sure that they would last longer and require fewer reinforcements from Stormwind to make the same level of difference, allowing the kingdom to project a heavier military presence elsewhere. And so, like a house of cards, Onyxia's plots fell apart, allowing the Scourge and Nefarion to be the ones pressed rather than the other way around. It wasn't enough to matter yet, or even for several years, but the simple fact that it was the other way around meant a great deal all on its own.

This was what Onyxia was missing when she alighted in the dusk-lit alley beside the Stone Masons Guildhall facing opposite the new Grand Cathedral of the Light. Aside from the fortress city that was their kings residence and fallback point in case of another invasion the Cathedral was the the Mason Guilds pride and joy, a bragging point from which they could sell almost any other contract, as if building an entire city hadn't been enough.

Folding in her wings and conjuring a cloak, the unbalanced lesser immortal cast her senses into the stone, taking in a layout of the buildings design. Satisfied, she drove the stone to part, causing it to flow away to form a doorway and allow her access, unimpeded by normal security. She had little to no fear of the humans, but dealing with them would be a bother, so as long as it was convenient for her to remain unseen, she would be.

It took the dragon-girl some time to find Edwin as his magic permeated the building. He'd obviously spent quite a bit of time sneaking around here, though why was a fair question to ask, as it was for all intents and purposes his fortress. VanClief attacked her the moment she was through his door, though it did him no good. Catching the assassin and architect in the air with a weak arcane blast she threw him against the wall and held him there as the daggers he was wielding lifted off the floor and came to hover in front of her. She sniffed the edges and laughed. "Really, Edwin, is that how you greet your employer? Dragons bane? How did you even know I would be here, you little worm?"

"I knew you would send someone for me from the beginning!" he spat. "Nobles usually do. Stormwind's better than the northern kingdoms in that regard, but that's mostly due to our new king, the one you tried to turn me against. As for how I knew you were a dragon, well, you weren't exactly subtle about it when fucked your way out of prison. Though how you got away from a sorcerer strong enough to bitchslap a dragon like yourself I'd love to know, it'll make me valuable enough to get off Varians list when I get out of your claws."

"Oh? And how do you think you're going to do that?" she asked, voice derisive.

Without so much as a word the human in front of her exploded into a mass of black smoke and was gone. Onyxia put up a shield and contemptuously batted the rogue aside as his spell dropped him out of the ceiling and onto her back. Streams of dark blood red energy lashed from her outstretched palm, spinning and curling through the air to strike their target. Eyes wide VanClief disappeared again, becoming a shadowy specter that seemed to have trouble running across the floor, its feet finding only minor purchase on the stone floor and appearing to pass through it with each step. A blast of fire passed straight through him and Onyxia frowned. Curling her fingers into claws as if she was squeezing into something soft the princess of the black flight began muttering in Arakal, the draconic tongue. After several words and two tense seconds where her opponent tried to rearm himself, a veil of dark light enclosed the human in a sphere, causing Edwin to loose his footing as the ball began to roll.

Several shadowy spells later her prize settled down to glare poisonously at her, both of them clear on the idea that he wasn't getting away.

"You humans have found a habit of impressing us recently." Onyxia said conversationally. "First Medhiv makes himself near the equal of my father, something even his mother failed to achieve after nearly 1000 years, then the red haired wizard thwarts all of my plans and takes me down with a single spell and now even you manage to give me pause..." she snorted. "Not much perhaps, but enough to be noticed. In times past I couldn't have been turned away by less than an army and of your kind then only if I had no support of my own." She shook her head. "But that hardly matters right now, does it? You're not going anywhere, not until I get what I want..."

Edwin glowered at her before sighing in resignation. "And what is it you want, Lady Katrina?"

Onyxia grinned. "I built your organization into quite the little band of thieving, eavesdropping, snooping little worms and you were one of my best. So I want you to tell me everything you know about the red haired mage that brought me down."

~! #$%^&*()_+

George lay back in his conjured Lazy Boy recliner and suppressed a sigh. He had been seesawing between fascination and utter boredom for the past six and a half hours as the archmages council and the Night Elf leaders discussed the coming war and tactics. He'd never been one for this sort of thing, so he'd mirrored Harry in to join in the conversation within half an hour of being dragged into the room by an over-friendly goddess, but since then he'd been largely spinning in the wind. The part of his brain that allowed him to successfully run and build a multinational business solely on the basis of jokes kept track of the names and abilities (or specialties as he was cataloging them like he would his workers) but battle strategies and tactics, comparing notes on demonology and the mindsets of the leadership? Gag me with a spoon already! He thought in frustration. The only reason he was really sticking around the meeting rather than returning to one of his many projects, such as hunting for Sirius or stealing this worlds concepts for more and better enchanted items, was that when the purple elf next to him had pulled back the string of her bow and fired he had felt that familiar twinge in his core of an item he had made being used nearby.

Only he had no recollection of ever having made a bow, letalone one that fired light.

The quiver on Tyrande's back was also bothering him. It was empty, just as it had been until moments before the woman had drawn from it and fired shortly before midnight. And yet... the thing absolutely reeked of magic and he could have sworn he'd seen her pull something out of it just before letting loose. Conjurations or even items that were enchanted to create other items weren't exactly new on his world, much to the contrary in fact, but they were here. While they could conjure foodstuffs, something widely considered impossible on his world, half of Dalaran had been floored three months ago when he'd suggested making dishes that conjured, preserved or just infinitely replenished simple and specific meals as an answer to the growing food crisis. Combining the local eateries, the city's public and mages private larders and store houses they'd had enough food to feed their 1.3 million residents for ten years. Or twenty million on ration for six or seven months, two of which had already passed at that point without rationing and while healing and training an ever growing population of refugees, soldier and civilian alike. And as everybody knows, maintaining a training person costs more food than an idle one, and when training a multitude? The food they were looting along the way wasn't nearly enough and spell conjured food tastes only half as good as the conjurer's own cooking.

...not many of the sorcerers or mages cooked for themselves. Ever. It was worse than bachelor food.

But he was getting off track. These night elves, who were apparently a group to whom sorcery was now rare and frowned upon deeply enough that 99 out of a hundred elves capable of arcane casting saw the need to leave the continent entirely ten millennia ago and STILL not return, somehow had items enchanted to form conjurations. Ones that made him twitch like he was back in one of his shops and kids thought they could sample the merchandise on the sly. Add to that their casual mentions of time travel and prophesies he was certain there was going to be a rather fascinating story behind that one. That Tyrande seemed to favor Krasus and his apprentice Rhonin too was of interest as well.

He was broken from his thoughts on the matter by a mirror vibrating in the pocket of his jeans. Pulling out the device he flipped it open to see the furiously scowling face of his wife. "Hey, Angie, what's up? You look like that time Flint made a crack about what girls should be doing rather than playing quidditch."

His wife's mocha face went blank for a split second and then she scrunched her eyes closed and looked like she was halfway between laughing and fighting off a headache. "Thanks, George, you always did know how to ruin a mood."

The redhead laughed. "How do you think Fred and I kept so many friends with all of the pranks we pulled? Some of them got pretty nasty, honestly, being able to completely ruin any mood is one of my most useful skills! Seriously though, you looked livid, what's up?"

His wife's countenance turned dark again. "I found out what Malfoy's been up too."

George lent forward, steepling his fingers. "Did you now? So, what has the amazing bouncing ferret done now? You said last time we talked about this he was trying to get me declared dead..."

"Exactly." Angelina nodded, her expression sour. "It turns out that he runs most of your competitors and has been the reason behind their recent string of successes. He's been using compulsion and memory charms to steal production secrets from the Wheezes for years and has tried several times to take stuff from the Big Book of Pranks ™ only to be thwarted by Fred's defensive magic." they both smirked about that. "That's why he's trying to use this opportunity to declare you deceased. If you die, for real or even just officially, your company loses its primacy and the spells and enchantments you created become public domain. If that happens he and his people don't have to waste time trying to make it work with a different approach or arithmancy, they can just copy it wholesale. Apparently a lot of your stuff suffers rather badly from being altered or stops working altogether and it's been hurting his business interests, giving him a reputation as 'the poor man's George Weasley' both here, on the continent and even across the pond." The black girl rolled her eyes and lent back. "You can imagine how well that's going over with the damn snob..."

George stared at the mirror blankly, mind a-whirl. Of tonight's big reveals, two of them were major cases of plagiarism and industrial espionage. The mind it boggled.

"George? George. George!" The man in question started, and refocused his gaze on the mirror. "I was asking you what you wanted me to do about this. I've got a few ideas of my own, but it's your company and I don't have quite your families special flair for vengeance."

"Well, as they say, turnabout is fair play, and you know how I love playing fair..." George drawled, a sinister grin spreading across his face.

"George, I'm not going to kill him!" Angelina replied, sounding shocked.

"Kill him?" asked George, giving his wife an odd look "Who do you think I am? No, killing him would be too simple anyways. No, proper suffering lingers. I will be having him declared dead though."

Angelina frowned, mollified and morbidly curious. "Well, go on then, don't keep me in suspense. How do you intend to 'kill' Malfoy without him dying?"

The redheads grin widened. "Remember all of the work I've been doing with blood magic over the last year and a half?" His wife's nose crinkled up in distaste, but she nodded and he went on. "The thing you have to understand about blood magic and the specific spells I've been peddling is that it's a really focused and tailored effect. The original magic I used for those plates was the blood adoption ritual, one of the few blood spells that's still used today, though usually under strict ministry control." He rolled his eyes, after all, when want the ministry trying to control anything of actual use?

"The blood adoption ritual is simple. Get someone to bleed in a cup and designate how you intend to be related to them. Dip your finger in the blood and use it to draw the correct runes on the outside of the cup and then drink what's left. Originally it was used to make people 'blood brothers' linking families of people who'd served together on long campaigns so that the bond would carry more weight than mere emotion. Later it got used to take in and designate heirs when a family started dying out. Find someone who was worthy and offer them your family name. If they accepted, do the ritual and they'd become your child and you their parent, the family name and business could continue. Eventually it spread to more innocuous things like regular adoptions children or parents. It became controlled later on because various assholes and a few dark lords tried to use it to steal inheritances and bloodlines, which is actually a bit hypocritical for me to say, considering that's exactly what I've been using them for."

His grin now became positively sinister. "The point of all of this is that with blood meaning so much in our society if Draco and his son Scorpius are no longer Malfoys, male or even pureblood, there's no way anything that is owed to them by our society and laws can be theirs. They would effectively be dead. Use your metamorph abilities to look like... Astoria I think his wife's name is... and replace their fathers genetics with that of a muggle girl. Making him and his son sisters would be one more layer of icing to the cake." George giggled... er, laughed, maniacally.

Angelina sat on the other side wincing and the council of archmages and Night Elves stared at him in something akin to awe and horror. "Did I miss something over there George? That's pretty twisted,.. even for you."

"What? I cant take a little pride in mine and my twins dream?" When Angelina shrugged and looked as if she was going to accept his, admittedly truthful, explanation he added "my magics also begun to itch over how long I've been taking to find Sirius, so I'm under a bit of pressure and oaths are a pretty grave stresser. Add to that I recently found out I'm about to be a part of a serious violation of numerous major magical laws and one of my newer friends suffered from similar circumstances also at the hands of another blond smarmy git... well, you get the idea."

Angelina who had been nodding along at this suddenly got a mischievous look about her. "This 'newer acquaintance' wouldn't happen to be a certain pretty crimson tressed elf, would it?"

"Oh, I don't know... it's possible." George temporized, glancing over the mirror at the blushing half-elf in question where she stood behind Prince Kael'Thas' chair. "What of it?"

Angelina smirked. "Well it just so happens that Hermione and I have been talking and I remember a few other cute little research assistants who were charity cases of yours over the years." She finished slyly.

George gave her a mock offended look and was about to reply with a witty comeback when the gathered beings at the table decided it was time to interrupt. "So you're a blood mage then..." Sunreaver said darkly.

George turned away from his mirror and offered a raised brow to the elf. "It's a rather recent development, what of it? The magic get banned here too for some reason?"

"Something like that." Krasus replied, amusement in his voice. "Blood magic isn't so much banned as it is favored research material of the worlds more unsavory magical talents. The elves in particular have suffered from it of recent, what with the scourge." The ancient sorcerer explained as the night elves looked on, expressions intense, but giving away little else. "Blood was originally released into the magical community by my flight as a method of healing and curing disease, but like everything, if you can do something with it you can also apply it to an opposing effect. Creation of plagues, weakening or controlling those whose blood you can get ahold of, chilling or boiling blood, and of course, warlocks are often made of foolish mages who research demons and are offered demon blood as a way to enhance their spells, one of the legions most active and successful means of recruitment over the millenia." The disguised red dragon smirked slightly. "to hear you casually talking about stealing someones parentage with blood magic as a means of revenge... well, makes people wonder what else you're capable of."

"Demons... right, well blood can be used in all sorts of enhancement rituals, why not making demons out of people too?" George pinched the bridge of his nose. "What kind of moron would do that anyways? The blood would be far more valuable as a way to control or kill the demon who gave it to you than drinking it as part of a potion or ritual to enhance your magic. Idiots..."

Everyone was staring at him. "What?"

"That, ah..." Aniserum Runeweaver temporized "exactly how would you use a demons blood to... hurt them? Their blood is no longer a part of them, it wouldn't be of much use beyond corrupting anything that contained it..."

George shrugged. "The most common type of type of wards my brother Bill deals with are blood based, these are spells that have survived for literally thousands of years defending against active incursions of all sorts of things during that time. Any creature that sheds blood, no matter how, is vulnerable to a properly trained blood mage. There's still a connection to the creatures magic, see? Fresh is better, but hardly necessary. Using blood of a creature as the focus for a warding matrix allows you to tune magic specifically to harm or repel it, either that specific creature or anything of that species. These aren't exactly easy spells, mind you, and I'm just dabbling in the art, but no more complicated than any other permanent or large scale magics."

Gesturing to the mirror holding his wife's image George stood up and it floated along side the ginger inventor as he stretched, multiple joints cracking and popping as he did so. "That's hardly the only magic that can be done with blood either. Like your peoples blasphemous use of crystal dust getting the blood of various types of people or creatures under specific and varied circumstances can massively empower any spell used with it as a focus. Just like not all runes, words or mineral dusts are equal in a spell matrix, not all blood is equal either, and the how of acquisition is just as important as the what or who."

Kael'Thas Sunstrider leaned forward, hands clasped in front of him, eyes gleaming. "And this magic requires nothing of demons? Specifically at least?"

George nodded. "The magic in of itself as a spell tree can do just about anything you can find in other fields of magical learning and is more freely available to civilians and... I believe you called them hedge wizards? Anyway, it's easier to perform because it depends on the power of the bloods donor far more than the power of the dabbler, mage or archwizard using it. On my world it was historically used for healing and warding more often than anything else because to use a person or creatures blood you must first be able to get it from them, making it difficult to employ in battle situations. Hardly impossible, but complicated none the less."

"Interesting, tell me more..."

"Perhaps later, Lord, Sunstrider. For now you have a war to plan. I believe, uh, Tyrande, was detailing natural defenses and choke points?"

As George withdrew from the conversation he absently noticed Sunstrider pull Astromancer Solus down and begin whispering orders in her ear. Well, at least he could be sure he'd be able to count on her continued assistance with Hermione's Lightsaber...

He chuckled and drew his wand. Quickly sketching the wand movements for a basic flight array on the leather arm of his chair George directed the Lazy boy to hover its way towards the nearest balcony of the tower the gathered mages and dignitaries were doing dinner and deployments. He was about to turn back to his wife when the arm of his chair rocked, compensating for the sudden addition of Andrea, half-elf extraordinaire.

"The usual orders?" George asked.

Andrea tilted her head a bit. "More specific this time, but yes."

The Wheezes Proprietor offered a raised brow. "Blood magic, huh?"

"It was used to great effect against us by the scourge when they came for the Sunwell." Andrea explained simply. "Lord Kael has been looking into the art since. He finds a certain... irony in the possibility of using an enemy's magic against them and knowing how to defend against most magics requires one to first know how they work, either to know how to repel or disrupt the incoming spell or to counter its effects. Knowing how to use an enemy's magic better than they do and turning it against them though... That's something he'd kill in cold blood for. You should be careful."

George nodded and Andrea sat there silently as he and Angelina caught each other up on the recent goings on on their respective planets. The Harpies had had a match recently where they won by nearly two hundred points. Harry has been there with most of the tribe and spent the match with a grin, as he heckled both teams seekers. Little Fred had been showing an interest in mischief and had taken to going around the local villages taking the shape of various people and collecting secrets. A bit Slytherin for Georges taste, but instead of hurting others like most of the snakes, he'd been using them to make muggle friends and even pranked a few strained and fighting friends and couples into getting over themselves. Apparently he couldn't understand why people denied all sorts of things that were obvious to the rest of the crowd. Angelina was certain this meant he was destined for Hufflepuff but George insisted it was more Gryffindor mischievousness or the beginning of the fabled 'light slytherin' that everybody joked about but no-one really thought existed.

After nearly an hour of catching up on the little things Anglina turned her attention on Andrea, a secretive smirk on her face that made the other girl shiver. As Angelina interrogated the hapless half-elf George set about enlarging his flying carpet and with a flick of his wand set up the tent atop it. Getting off of the flying chair and ducking into the tent George summoned another pair of mirrors and called Hermione and Harry back. "Hey, George, what's going on? Hermione told me something about an exotic elven girlfriend you romanced in futures past?"

George rolled his eyes. "Friend, not girlfriend. She's got a husband. Apparently he's been sleeping for the last couple of centuries and one of the first moves of the upcoming war is going to be to go to the Stonetallon mountains and wake him. The woman in question is also the senior high priestess to an active goddess and nearly eleven thousand years old. No, I don't think I'm going to be her boyfriend in any part of futures past, however we're supposed to end up getting there. No, what I'm calling about this time is that I've been here too long. We've been sitting here nearly two weeks and my magic's itching. Last thing I do before going to bed is getting our resident spy to help me scry for Sirius. I figured the two of you would want in on it."

Both of them nodded. "Most definitely," Hermione agreed. "Scrying is by and large a lost art on our world. Times past it was taught alongside divination and is the basis for our magical maps and communications, but what little of it is left is now post NEWT charms generally, and not something taught at schools. I'd be most interested to see what a society who have an entire faction built around magical snooping has to say on the subject."

Harry laughed. "In that case I should probably save 'your resident spy' from your wife's clutches. As much as I love our old team she's definitely a socialite. She'll keep Andrea busy all night if we're not careful." With that Harry disappeared from his mirror. George spend the next few minutes sending up eyes to find what relevant books he had managed to copy on his short tour of the Scryers guild hall. By the time Harry managed to pull Angelina away from Andrea it was nearly 5 AM local time and George had nearly four hundred books floating before him. He really had no idea which would or wouldn't be helpful, but Andrea might.

"You know, It never fails to amaze me how many books you've managed to steal without anyone noticing." Andrea's voice came from behind him. Speak of the devil...

George turned around and smirked at her. "Stolen? I've stolen nothing! ...Er, well I take that back, I've raided a couple of wine cellars... POINT BEING! It's hardly my fault you mages don't enchant your books against duplication charms. Since the magic doesn't carry over into the copied book, save when the words themselves engender magic to collect around them, whatever charms you use to tell when something has been removed from your libraries, or other such skullduggery, doesn't follow them. Admittedly this means I loose all of those cool enchantments you put on them as well, but considering I really wouldn't know what to do with most of them it's not much of a loss. Particularly when compared to the gain."

Solusandra cocked her head to the side, a habit she'd picked up from her fellow redhead, and considered the sentiment. "Be that as it may, you do understand how much of the knowledge in each of these books is redundant or variations on a theme?"

The wizard smirked. "Perhaps you underestimate how much wizarding literature is the same..." George countered.

"Touche." She paused by the table holding the vials of red liquid and engraved silver instruments, her eyes lighting up. "Your friend Harry said you wanted me to scry for something?"

George nodded. "Padfoot. Also known as my employer friends godfather Lord Sirius Orion Black, former head and first son of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black." George finished drolly.

"Royalty?" the half elf girl asked, eyes wide.

George shrugged. "Close enough, though a few centuries past probably. Just noble and rich nowadays. More importantly he got... kidnapped I suppose would be a good way to describe it, about eleven years ago and we've finally tracked him to this world. We know he's alive and one of your prophets told us we'd meet before the final battle on the adjacent continent. I'd have found him already, but the same prophet also claimed that if I didn't drag this city along with me both Sirius and I would die fighting Archimonde, either on the battlefield or in any number of countless ways elsewhere."

The crimson haired elf looked down at the table where George was keeping his latest and greatest blood project. "So that's why you've been helping us... to bring us to battle."

George cringed. "It's not all that bad. If I hadn't shown up you'd have likely died with much of Dalaran when Archimonde showed up the first time. Some bony lich working on summoning the goatman was how I got through in the first place. Prophet said Dalaran was supposed to have died that day. Bringing you into a war whole and unscarred doesn't seem like much of a price to pay for saving you from a massacre."

Andrea snorted. "We were hardly unscarred. One of our councilors and thousands of mages, several of them friends of mine, died that week before you showed up. There was a reason that Antonidas was the uncontested leader of Dalaran despite merely sharing a seat on the council with five other archmages, one of who's was apparently a dragon. We were scarred before you showed up." Then the girl sighed. "But that's neither here nor there. On this island the scourge can't find us, with your forewarning the Legion will need millions of troops and quite a bit of time to wear us down and your prophet, he said we would win this war?"

George nodded. "The final battle atop some mountain, hijack or something. Without Dalaran more than half of the defenders will die, but archimonde will be defeated and the Legions portal will collapse. With Dalaran the casualties will be much more lenient on our side and Archimonde will still die."

Andrea nodded. "Right, so, you needed me to find your friend. Do you have anything of his? A picture, or a personal item? A bit of hair or blood? You're not related to him by chance, are you? I can divine pretty much anything you need to know, but looking for a specific person without a set place to search for or some sort of focus could take a while."

"George," Harry called from his mirror "do you still have Sirius' wand?"

George nodded, pulling a small black box from a bag hanging off his belt. Turning to Andrea he handed her the box. "We were intending to give this back to Sirius when we found him. Ebony, eleven inches and a whisker taken from a particularly playful Cerberus pup." George said with a smirk. "Say's quite a bit about the man all by itself."

The half elf took the wand curiously. George had never allowed her near his own wand, something she found deeply interesting, saying something about how personal the connection between a wizard and his wand was. To be allowed to handle one of these curious artifacts... She'd have to find some time to study it. Not only would she be unable to forgive herself if she didn't Prince Kael most certainly wouldn't.

"What is a Cerberus?" she asked, voice casual as she began perusing the books the shapeshifting wizard offered for her use.

"Dogs." Geroge said. "Gigantic three headed dogs about the size of a house. The pups alone are the twice the size an ogre. They were originally created by specialized rituals and breeding round about five thousand years ago by Greek Wizards specifically for the purpose of guarding places." The Astromancer blanched at that, remembering one time when a the lower wards bestiary had tried to summon a Corehound, massive two headed reptilian dogs that were half elemental and half living creature. She snagged a few of the books George was offering and continued to listen to the wizards explanation. It would no doubt be useful in her report to Prince Kael on wandlore. "People don't make them anymore, as it's far simpler to breed them, but they're exceedingly loyal, practically impossible to kill without an army behind you and very protective, all of which makes them excellent guard dogs. Their whiskers are occasionally plucked and sold for upwards of 100 galleons a hair to wandmakers where they find homes with wizards who are also loyal, ferocious and protective themselves. The wand wood, is made of Ebony. A strong tree, it normally pairs itself with nonconformists, individualistic wizards and tends to lend itself well to combative styles of magic from any spell class."

"All in all its pretty reflective of the man himself. Playful, rebellious, loyal and protective of his friends, he's faced the strongest and most vicious wizards on our world, often in groups in the defense of those he considered his family and come out alive and often on top. It wasn't until he faced his sister and a dozen of her friends beside his godson Harry that he finally fell, and though we thought he'd die for a while it seems not even the depths of the twisting Nether could keep the old dog down." George laughed. "He's also a consummate ladies man and I've little doubt when we finally find his furry ass he'll have half a dozen girls hanging off his arms or be in pursuit of one particularly impressive woman."

Andrea looked at the gathered faces. George was grinning like a loon, Harry smirking sadly and Hermione and Angelina were rolling their eyes. Hermione's expression was sadly fond like Harry's though rather than sufferingly tolerant like Angelina. She wondered why though. Obviously there was some sort of history there. "Right," Solusandra replied, handling the wand carefully "I'll get to work then."

Grabbing one of the books she flipped through it till she came to the specific pattern she had in mind. Scrolling down the list of spell components she drew out her enchanting bag. "Can I have a clear table?" she asked, looking briefly at George. The wizard nodded and drew his wand. With a swish and a few whispered words the room rearranged itself. All of the current project tables moved themselves and their contents closer together and to the walls before large amounts of sand swirled out of the testing arena, shifting, twisting and enlarging into a large polished stone table six feet across.

"That good enough, of do you need bigger?"

"It's fine. Perhaps a bit smaller, but this will work." George nodded and the table shrunk to five feet. With a nod the woman began to work. Taking out a number of expanded pouches she began drawing lines and circles in gem dust and various specific inks as the book suggested. While she worked she directed George to retrieve various items from her tower which he summoned as she gave him the details of what they looked like and where they were. After nearly twenty minutes of work and question from Hermione she finally placed Sirius wand in the air over the center of the array. Closing her eyes the astromancer reached out with her senses and began channeling the arcane energies of the area. It took a few seconds as she had to reach beyond the tent to the outside world where much of the local powers were in chaos from the recent massive glut of spellcasting performed over the last nine days. As she felt the connection form the green eyed elf began chanting, her hands drawing symbols and lines at various points in the air as she moved around the table counterclockwise five times.

As she completed the final circuit the building matrix of lines symbols and energy all focused their light in on the floating, slowly revolving, wand rather than everywhere as they had for the last three minutes of casting. As the light built itself up in intensity there was a pulse, one felt by everyone in the room, even those behind their mirrors. As the spell spread itself out across the two worlds, racing along leylines of wild, natural magic, an image began to form around the wand. The worlds of Earth and Azeroth were spreading themselves out around the wand like a holigraphic projection of the globe or a Hollywood cinematic of the ever-popular world-ending explosion. As the images expanded there were spikes of light at the edge of circle which resolved themselves into multicolored dots of light. After several seconds there was a particularly brilliant spike of light and the wand at the center started glowing and humming, causing the image to change once more.

The new image was a dual natured one, The first, surrounding the wand and covering the table looked as if a muggle holographic map popularized in the SciFi movies his son so loved whenever Hermione took them out on her little field trips. It showed a large mountain range, full of crags, valleys and cave systems. At the center of the auroral map was a single dot that shown with the selfsame light being emitted by the wand. It was on the surface and moving slowly through an unnatural looking structure that looked to be cutting off a natural path up the mountain range and into a bowl shaped valley that graced the peak.

From that point of light extended silvery wisps of energy that floated up high above the table and offered a window of sorts that looked, despite its position above them and opening down, down upon an enormous jet black dog, easily the size of a grizzly bear. The beast lay on a rug in front of a fire in what looked like a study. Lying against it and reading a book was a blond woman. She sat there, her knees drawn up, back resting against the dogs chest and one hand on it's head, absentmindedly scratching at one of it's ears.

"He looks bigger than I remember." Harry's voice came from behind her. Andrea frowned though, she had though perhaps she'd messed the spell up, they were looking for a person weren't they? Harry's godfather?

"That's probably because he's had ten years of eating well." Hermione said reasonably "living with some rich girl as pet or friend wouldn't likely engender itself to starvation like Azkaban. You remember when we first met him, he looked like someone straight out of Auschwitz camp. He'd only just started properly recovering when he got tossed through the portal."

"Think he's back on top form then?" George asked. "Unless half of that's fur I'd say he looks sort of fat!"

"Excuse me, but I'm lost..." the local enchantress burst out, causing them all to look at her "Are you saying that... dire wolf, is your godfather?"

Everyone burst out laughing. "Well, we certainly aren't talking about the blond beauty there!" Harry choked out after he'd gotten over his laughter. "What, hasn't George shown you his furry side yet?"

Everyone went silent and looked at the ginger wizard. "What? There hasn't really been much call for it, and I'm hardly inconspicuous in that form. Fred and I got ours because the Mauraders map claimed it was a status symbol for any good prankster to get one." He shrugged and Andrea's eyes got large as the man seemed to melt and shift, going from a nearly six foot human in robes to a fox nearly the size of a pony with his same ginger hair and not one, but three long bushy tails waving behind him. Looking back at his rear, the beast opened its mount and slurred. "Huh, well that's new. I guess my time here really has helped..." There was a pop and George was back to his normal self.

"Why did you have three tails?" the Solus girl asked.

Again, George shrugged. "When I first learned how to transform I only had one. I got my second a little less than a decade ago. I transform into the magical beast called Kitsune by the Japanese, a trickster spirit capable of casting charms and habitually pranking muggles across most of Asia. My brother Fred turned into a similar creature, but this one from America, colloquially known as Old-Man-Coyote. Same thing, pretty near the same species too, but different none the less. Just like me and Fred..." There was a sad look in the gingers eyes, but it disappeared quickly. Then he snorted. "At least we didn't get stuck turning into Egyptian scarabs like Rita Skeeter. Imagine, having the skill and power to transform and getting a magical dung-beetle as your form. That's got to have done a number the acidic little bint's ego. Anyways, as to my tails. Kitsune gain tails as their power increases, up to a totals of nine. They can get wicked powerful and a fair number of magical families in Japan consider it a serious status symbol to be able to point to one on your family tree."

"Yeah," Hermione cut it, "and they're also incredibly vain..."

George gave her an affronted look which only earned him a laugh from both of his friends.

"So, where is that?" George asked, trying to steer the conversation onto safer topics.

"Looks like a fortress. Not sure what they're calling it, the constructions recent, but it's at the top of the Stonetallon mountains."

George collapsed backwards, falling into a sofa that hadn't been there mere seconds before and began banging his head against the arm, cursing.

~! #$%^&*()_+

Mounted atop frost wolves Thrall and Grom spent the next three days racing from the Human fortifications to his peoples most recent base camp at the Oasis of the Wailing caverns. Ten tribes and nearly a thousand shamen were gathered there. Black Tooth Grin, Bladewind, Lightnings Blade, Redwalker, White Claw, Stormreaver, Frostwolf, Shattered Hand, Bleeding Hollow, Bone Crusher and Rageroar. With the Warsong at his back and trailing them in caravan the pair of Orcs prayed to the spirits that their people had not already been subsumed by the dreaded Mannoroth had not yet been able to rebuild the blood pact between Orc and Annihilan.

The atmosphere between the two leaders was strained beyond that however. Thrall had not missed the prophets talk of Grom having betrayed the Orcs and questioned his friend and mentor on the accusations in detail. Grom had admitted to being the one to speak to the clans and convince them that Guldan's monstrous friend, the pitlord was there to help them, and that drinking its blood would be a good thing for the Orcish people. Before Grom stepped up the clan chieftains had been balking, awed but terrified of the hideous beast and its boiling acidic blood. If not for him the contract would not have been made willingly but would instead have been forced upon them by Gul'Dan and any orc could have struck the fatal blow.

Thrall, for his part, was furious and nearly ready to condemn his friend, save for one thing. If Grommash Hellscream could bring himself to correct his mistake, and strike the demon dead, the Orcs would be free and the Prophets promise of a new homeland and peace would be within their grasp. It would indeed be fitting that the one to call down this doom would be the one to save them all...

As they thundered into camp on the eve of the third day Grom and Thrall shuddered. There was a feeling of evil here, a base and bloody excitement that spoke of demons and sang to the orcs blood of battle and power. "It's already started..." Hellscream breathed.

"Yes, though the better question is how far it has spread. Spirits of earth and water, heed my call! Illuminate my path that I might find the source of this corruption and end your pain!"

It was not the spirits of earth and water than answered him however, the local stones and waters already having died under the influence of the pitlords freshly spilled blood, but the wind. Be careful shaman. The wind replied, as a stiff breeze blew ash and leaves in his face. Several of your brothers have already fallen to the lure of power deep within the caverns. The monsters blood has not spread strong enough to taint the waters and soil above with its wrath giving poison, but its influence is enough to kill the land. You must hurry!

Thrall nodded. "Make haste old friend, and gather your finest. Our quarry lairs within the wailing caverns." Grom nodded and turned his wolf around to follow Thralls orders as the chieftain called again on the spirit of the wind to sound his words across the camp. "Friends! Brothers! Proud warriors of the Horde! Your War-chief has returned from the Oracle atop the Stonetallon and I bear grave tidings! Our enemy of old, the monsters who would see our race bend and broken beneath their heals like dogs, has returned! The dread Mannoroth has poisoned this Oasis with his blood. Drink not from its waters, but from our reserves! Have your shaman call refreshment from the spirits if you must! But now I must call upon you all, let the greatest stand forth and join me as we delve into the depths to face this monster in mortal combat! FOR BLOOD, FOR GLORY AND FOR THE HORDE!"

~! #$%^&*()_+

Jaina Proudmoore watched all of this and more with a nod from her war room atop the stonetallon Mountains. She's had her scrysers working overtime on the problem to get the most information possible out of the situation and now that the orcish leaders has reached their camp the battle was ready to begin, and she would aid as she'd promised.

"The demons have managed to re-corrupt fifty two orcs, milady" reported one of the mages on observation duty. "Seven shaman, twelve peons and thirty two warriors." Another of the mages brought up a projection of the caverns layout.

"They were trying to be quiet about it and build their numbers before everything really got going" added a third "but the greenie captains return has polarized the encampment." He paused before speaking again. "You're sure we want to help these... people? M'lady?"

Jaina glared at him. "Not particularly, but desperate times call for desperate measures and if nothing else orcs can take quite a bit of damage making them excellent meat shields. Besides, for all of my adventures I've never enjoyed violence of any sort. The prophet insists that only fighting alongside the Horde can we survive the demons invasion... so we help them."

The gathered mages nodded. "In that case" replied one of the scrysers, an elven girl with white hair and a sharp, if young, features "you should probably know that while none of the orcs who retreated at Thrall's warning are tainted, more than half of those gathering for his little raid drank the water. They're not full on corrupted like those who drank the blood, but they're definitely unstable. Best we can hope for is that they're working on a hair trigger, at worst, they're crackers and just as likely to attack their friends once the fighting starts as the demons."

Jaina nodded and turned to the door where a massive armored figure stood. "Duke Lionheart, Bishop Skyleaf, you've gathered your companies?"

"Yes, MiLady, Thirty of my finest paladins chosen for their skills in succor, aura generation and blessed combat. If the Orcs fail to contain pit lord we'll stop it!"

"Of course, Princess Proudmore." The bishop nodded. "My elven companions and I await your order. We could only pull a score off of healing duty, but that should be plenty to consecrate the area. Win or loose against the heathens, that fiend isn't going to be leaving."

Jaina nodded. "Knight Captain Yuri, your men and women are on protection detail, four soldiers to a priest. Don't engage the orcs, but feel free to defend yourselves and don't, under any circumstances, allow the priests to be harmed. The holy light may protect them, but they still suffer the same problems as any mage in that they need to be stationary and unmolested to complete their work. See to it."

"Aye, Ma'am!"

With that the four leaders left the room for the parade field. "SORCERERS AND SOLDIERS OF THE NEW ALLIANCE, WE MARCH THIS DAY TO AID THE ORC SETTLEMENT. I KNOW THIS MAY DISTURB MANY OF YOU, THAT I ASK WE RIDE TO THE AID OF AN ENEMY THAT HAS COST US ALL SO MUCH, BUT THERE IS A GREATER THREAT STILL. THE DEMONIC BURNING LEGION HAS COME. THE ORCS SHED THEIR DEMON MASTERS WHEN WE CLOSED THE PORTAL TO OUTLAND TWENTY YEARS PAST, BUT NOW THE DEMONS HAVE RETURNED, SEEKING TO REIGNIGHT THE FURY OF THE HORDE! TODAY WE PUT A STOP TO THAT!"

There was a roar of approval from the gathered men and women and Jaina felt a twinge of mixed pride and sorrow. She'd never wanted to be a leader, but if it must be, at least she seemed to be doing a bang up job of it. "MAGISTERS! YOU KNOW YOUR ASSIGNMENTS, I WANT PORTALS AROUND THE OASIS! PENTAGRAM FORMATION, WITH HOLES AT FOURTY, SIXTY AND EIGHTY METERS! THE HORDE'S GOING IN FIRST AND WE'RE THERE TO SHOW SUPPORT, OFFER CONTAINMENT AND IF NEED BE, CLEAN UP WHAT'S LEFT. MOVE OUT!"

~! #$%^&*()_+

Perched atop the mountains near lake Lordamere Onyxia roared in fury. Dalaran was gone! How was she supposed to find her prey with the city naught but a crater and demons crawling all over the place?! Slamming a clawed hand into the steep side of the cliff she let her abject fury flow into the earth and express itself. The mountain ranges of Elem and Alterac trembled, rippling and shifting as if caught at the center of an earthquake. The ground began to buckle under the feet of the demons as they poured steadily out of their portal and began to take notice of the disturbance. Tension, disappointment and frustration at being denied fanned the flames of the dragon queens unstable mind until with a mighty howl the former crater of Dalaran exploded, showering the nearby Legion encampment with debris. Large rocks soared through the air striking down thousands of succubi, terror fiends and doomgard before falling upon still more felgard, fel hounds and other demonic soldiers. Two pit lords were crushed in the mayhem along with half a dozen Lich but the carnage was not over yet. From the deepened crater lava swelled and the ground puckered upwards unleashing a volcano upon the valley.

Her fury vented, Neltharion's oldest living daughter began to breath heavily. While she was prone to violent displays when things went wrong it was unseemly to become unbalanced by the loss of a human. She would need to find someone who knew where the mages had went with their city gone. She could pick up the trail there... no one who could put her down with a single spell would fall simply because their city had been blown away by the legion. That kind of power bred survivors, especially among magic users where high level magics usually meant instability and the slightest miscalculation could destroy your entire lair.

Or tower as it were...

No, the red haired mage was alive, she just had to find him. Then she could end this obsession... and she would start with the legion. Their commanders were somewhat intelligent, they would likely know where the red wizard had run off too.

Letting loose a draconic shriek from her mostly human throat the mad dragoness launched herself toward the monsters below. As she flew into the mass of monsters, succubi, whose shape was eerily similar to the one she wore now, swarmed in on her, their whips glowing with a rusty red light. Not to be deterred, she let loose with sheets of ebon flame from her mouth and a roar more appropriate to her true draconian form than the one she wore. Barely pausing for the monsters to recollect themselves and swarm her, the black princess dove low. The legions commanders were often hard to spot, but with that big gaping portal just sitting there, it hardly mattered. Until they had a hole big enough to summon Sargeras the leadership always stuck near those damned holes. She'd seen it repeatedly as a young drake, nearly to her first millenium, during their first invasion and countless times again as the Legions agents tried repeatedly to tempt mortal sorcerers into allowing them back.

The leadership always stuck to the portal.

That in mind, she didn't even bother with the three Pit Lords who tried to cut her in half, as she flew close to the ground to take advantage of the demons tendency towards friendly fire, merely decapitating them as she passed. The demons, seeming to have figured out at least part of her plan, began to unleash a torrent of spell fire towards her, most of which she recognized as curses aimed towards corruption, domination and debilitation. Furrowing her brow for a moment she released another wave of midnight black plasma and coaxed the earth into another furious rumbling, causing many of the casters to loose their balance. As the portal allowing demons through began to flicker and dilate wildly, killing as many of the monsters as it let through, Onyxia expanded her transformation to match her prey and grabbed a twenty five foot tall black skinned Eradar warlock who had been desperately focusing on trying to stabilize the tear into the nether realm.

Cackling, rather than roaring, in triumph, the former co-leader of the black dragon flight dove into the earth with her prize, and instead of plowing into it, the ground simply swallowed her. As she disappeared, the earthquakes stopped, rocks quit falling from the sky to sew havoc into the already chaotic swarm of demons and the volcano that was Dalaran's crater subsided in its deluge of molten missiles and rivers of fast flowing lava to a mere creeping flow of firey death. The demon encampment would repair itself and quickly go on as before, but with 9 million demons and 17 of the 23 portal wardens now dead the war was in for an interesting turn.

~! #$%^&*()_+

Sariel's first impression upon waking up was heat. It pressed against his entire body, tight and encompassing, but not hot enough to scald or blister. He could feel his arms, legs, chest and tail, but to move them proved to be impossible. Since he wasn't in blinding agony it obviously couldn't be one or Kil'jaden's torture bubbles and since there was no sound but what seemed to be the slow breathing of a monstrous creature it likely wasn't the Annihilan's slave pits either. As the gigantic 'creature' seemed to breath out again his nose filled with the smells of ash and sulfur. Brimstone? There were certainly a fair number of volcanic planets under the legions control, but last thing he could remember was his lord leaving him to maintain a portal to one of the lush green worlds. Azarat or something like that.

A mid level Eradar who's primary skill-set revolved around arcane, nether and void based sorcery Sariel was used to being tasked as a portal monkey over and above commanding armies of demons or wrecking large scale havoc with battlefield spells. That wasn't to say he was unfamiliar with sadism in either form, one of the most common types of resistance put up by the pathetic races they enslaved or exterminated was to attack the portals the legion came through, but regardless he was having a hard time deciding exactly where he was, why he was there or who had him.

"So you're awake. Good." Sariel tried to turn around to find the source of the voice, but as everything up to his jaw appeared to be buried in a form fitting tomb of rock, as his slowly clearing eyes were revealing, that proved to be impossible. Regardless, he couldn't understand the language so it hardly mattered what the local worm wanted. He would just ignore it and build a portal spell as best he could. This wasn't exactly the first time he'd been immobilized by natives, though it was far more effective than the usual attempts as this time his hands and fingers couldn't even move.

"Nothing to say, eradar?" it asked. Interesting, so it knew what he was. Another peculiarity... or perhaps not, this world had been a bit of an obsession for their masters for the last ten thousand years. After all, it wasn't often that a world defeated the Legion and far more rare that they held off more than a century before the legion made it's way back, let alone, ten thousand years. "Ah well, you words are not required..."

It was at that point that his mind burst into flames as something scaly, twisted and HOT burst in upon it. Unlike the soul chilling cold, greasiness and perverse glee of the Nathreziem's domination attack this one burned as it passed though, rooting for information rather than seeking to suppress or corrupt. An image forced its way into his mind, triggering a series of memories. Small, mammalian and unassuming, the creature had red hair and features telling of a race who suffered from arcane corruption. A large forehead, curved brow, two eyes, nose, mouth and chin with odd fur like protrusions. Well the hair atop the head and on the chin were a little odd, but arcane corruption rarely seemed to care what was there, it was simply that every race who managed to play with magic seemed to end up with that basic face, regardless of what they had been before.

Sariel furrowed his brow and tried to resist. He didn't have any particular reason to protect the information this creature was looking for, about the city and the other creature, but it was the principal of the thing. It wanted the information, so it was his duty to deny it, escape and then enslave or destroy the violator in retribution. Slowly and with as many drawn out varieties of pain as possible.

The burning heat increased reminding him of the red-haired worm's attacking elementals and how many untold thousands had died before they'd put out the voracious beasts. There was a blinding surge in the intensity of the attack at that thought and Sariel realized to his fury that the creature had become excited, meaning that it had seen the memory. Burning claws dug further into his brain magnifying the pain but not allowing him to collapse into unconsciousness and deny it further information. It followed the memory of the flames, excitement and interest blazing its way through his mind to the next connected memory, first of how they had defeated the vamperic summons with the nullifying magics of the void and then to the attack on the City of Dalaran where his masters Rival has again faced not only those same flames, but more creatures of white cold matching even the blackest depths of the void itself. He had seen what those beasts did to the greatest of Sargeras' generals and heard about the worm who had cast the spell, teleporting as if it were the simplest thing in the world, he had no wish to be anywhere near such an obvious future leader of the legion.

At least, not until it was properly corrupted...

That, somehow, seemed to be what his attacker was looking for, for there was an overwhelming sense of satisfaction and then he knew no more.

~! #$%^&*()_+

wowwiki dot com/Dragonsworn for those who doubt me

~! #$%^&*()_+

Onyxia looked at her hands, sunk almost entirely into the demon sorcerers head with a mix of satisfaction, glee and disappointed irritation. On one claw, she had been too rough with her toy and now it was broken, on the other she now knew that not only had her prey and his city not been destroyed but it had taken down an even more powerful being than her, not once, but TWICE and picked up an entire city to place it in the air! She squirmed with renewed anticipation at the thought of tracking him down and subjugating the human to her will. True, it would not be so easy to win over a being of that power since she obviously couldn't press it full on, but it was a human, and they were easy to manipulate. Perhaps she could even offer him a position as one of her dragon-sworn? Such a strong mage could probably take the blood of a dragon and become a full fledged drake himself and far more worthy mate than just being an exquisitely powerful mage... it had been done before by other flights... even hers on occasion, that was how the dragon-kin had been created after all...

Dipping her fingers into a conveniently placed flow of lava, she cleaned her hands off and then drew a claw along the surface of the stone she'd used to encapsulate her prey, turning it to lava as well. The Eradar was consumed by the burning rock in short order and as its bones turned to ash and soluted into the heavy liquid Onyxia dove once more into the rock. As she burst from the earth minutes later the magma she had just left immediately began to cool. After all, what else was it to do when its creator had more interesting things to do now?

~! #$%^&*()_+

Thrall was making ready to descend into the caverns beneath the oasis when on the bank across the nearest pool a hole tore in reality, forming into a plum disk and then clearing to reveal Jaina Proudmoore. As the woman rode out of the expanding portal on the back of the ghostwolf Sirius more holes formed in two more areas that he could see and then points further beyond them, all within the area he had forbidden his horde to remain.

Tricky human... the stout green shaman thought in irritation. The question now was whether they were here to help or betray them. If he was honest with himself Thrall wasn't entirely sure which he would prefer. Help would most certainly be welcome, but not only did the idea still strike him as absurd for any human save Taretha Foxton to help an orc, but there lay the possibility that their 'help' could end up being what killed Mannoroth in the end, robbing the Orcs of their promised future and homeland. On the other hand, the humans betraying them would be comfortingly familiar and believable. That's what humans did after all, loose, win or anything else, they couldn't do it honorably. Betrayal was just something the horde had come to associate with them and warlocks both.

"Human" he rumbled out.

"Orc." the blond returned. Thrall wanted to say more but Jaina turned away from him and began shouting orders to the troops that had been piling out of the portals behind her. Thrall and his warriors tensed, preparing to be attacked and return the aggression with a vengeance, but when no hostility seemed to be forthcoming beyond a similar tensing, the fifty some warriors relaxed. Grommash however looked like a caged beast, pacing back and forth, distrust clear on his face. Thrall went over to him and put a hand on the blade masters shoulder. They looked at each other and Thrall shook his head. Helscream's hand clenched tightly around Gorehowl's haft, but he nodded as well and calmed down somewhat.

Or if not that, at least he stopped looking like he was about to start another war...

Hefting the doom hammer onto his shoulder and subtly charging it with lightning from the spirits of wind, Thrall made his way over to the sorceress queen. "Jaina, what is the meaning of this?" he asked, trying to keep his voice as calm as possible. "Have you come to help? Or something else?"

Jaina looked over her shoulder at him and nudged Sirius to turn with her. "After a fashion, Thrall. You remember what the Oracle said, survive together or die apart. This seemed like a good place to start. My priests, paladins and mages are setting up a containment circle. Three pentagrams, one each of priests, mages and paladins binding the demons to the area and spreading holy auras to cleanse the land and weaken your target. Despite our adventure in the cave I don't trust the orcs not to attack me and mine without your foreign allies there to hold you back so I'll be holding most of my force in reserve unless it looks like you can't complete."

Thrall nodded. "And if this works out, we move on from there. A sound plan." he looked around at the tense knights and paladins making the inner 'pentagram'. The priests made the second circle and the mages the third. Further sound reasoning. Mages were the best with barrier spells and could protect the group from anything less than a proper assault by his horde should the tenuous peace break, giving the rest of them time to escape and providing a last line of defense for his people and the world should the raiding party against Mannoroth fail. The paladins were the innermost circle because it would both allow their auras to sink into the ground and begin hurting the demons fastest, but their heavy armor and combat training would allow them to provide a potent defense against escaping demons and their slaves should his attack fall to the demons corruption. Then the priests in the middle circle where they would still be close enough for their binding spells and holy light to affect the buried horrors but it also put them close enough to both groups that they could quickly provide healing to either should the worst happen. Very clever.

He gazed over the nearby paladins and saw two gnomes among them, looking thoroughly out of place in their thick armor which had to wight as much if not more than their entire bodies. "What are their skills?" he asked pointing to them with his hammer, its forking lightning offering branches in their direction almost unerringly.

"Paladins Gregor Sunwrench and Frodo Lightspanner. They're a bit odd, but then that's gnomes for you. Brothers, one is an excellent healer while the other specializes in auras. Both are far more powerful than they look. I saw them a couple of times in the training field. Faster than kids after candy or an elven arrow those two. Why?"

"I'd like to take them along with my hunting party." Thrall returned with a grimace. "Think of it as a sign of good faith."

Jaina offered a raised brow and he continued. "It'll offer both of our people a chance to see if we can actually work together and them being gnomes will make my people more comfortable. Some of the older warriors tell me of the conquest of Kahz'modan. Defeating the Gnomes was one of our easier conquests apparently, because all we had to do was put a shield in-between us and their bullets, then charge in and kick them. Where the Dwarves were almost a worthy opponent, Gnome punting was almost a sport. That sense of safety and levity would go well to offset our special hatred for your paladins and having them healing us and providing their war boosting auras to my people would be about as good a sign of your commitment to this alliance as either side could handle at this point."

Jaina offered him an appraising look before nodding and barking out orders. A series of expressing suddenly crossed her face and she laughed, scratching her mounts ears and head roughly. The ghostwolf barked and suddenly the gnomes who had been trundling over towards them blurred towards them and Thrall was treated to the thoroughly uncomfortable feeling of little hands and feet crawling their way up his body at high speed. The two gnomes settled on his shoulders, posing like acrobats and squeaking jovially in gnomish before leaping off and tumbling forward to begin hopping off toward his troops.

Thrall was immensely confused until he saw the pair of beings beside him shaking with silent laughter. This was going to be one pain of an alliance.