-Chapter 10-
-After traversing the rugged terrain to the south and surviving the jungles of Stranglethorn, Jedo and company finally arrive at their destination . . .
It had been challenging enough, but their ordeal was almost at its end. Booty Bay was just several strides away from the campsite the now-branded outlaws set up. It had not been easy to travel for those few days with limited supplies and food, which seemed to disappear at a rate not proportionate to their group, not to mention the space; Scarlet's camp equipment was not intended for a group of over twenty, which was a slightly different number from what they had when including just Scarlet's original forces. And with the way the tauren "merchant" in red ate, it seemed they'd sooner starve before reaching this mystical isle. However, they were incredibly lucky. For only a few miserable days, which could have easily been weeks, they had to combat wild animals, unfamiliar diseases, several rogue trolls, the blazing heat, and, like the icing on top of a cake, they had to evade Frohm's forces, who had followed them as far as the Blasted Lands before deciding to fall back. It had been stressful on the whole lot, but somehow they managed it.
Stranglethorn was as treacherous as it was remarkably beautiful. Because most of the land was in a constant tug-of-war between Alliance and Horde forces, it was a dangerous place for humans(and tauren) to travel through. Booty Bay, though, was a somewhat neutral and relaxed hot spot for both factions- but was owned by goblins and crawling with mercenary wretches. However, this made it a perfect place to ask for the assistance the band of outlaws needed. After all, there was no other true way to get to that floating island than to fly there, and goblins seemed to know this method best. They all suspected the coincidence was intentional, but goblins were reliable . . . well, as long as their clients had some gold on them.
It was also relatively easy to figure out who would be their representative in the pirate-infested town: Chappy. Being a goblin, Chappy would avoid most of the prejudices the others would face there. Plus, there were likely mercenaries lurking about who were on the lookout for the infamous murderers of Stormwind's king. Word spread quickly about how they already had a hefty price on their heads.
According to Pala's intuition, a renowned goblin should currently be on his vacation stay here in Booty Bay, someone who she deemed would "sweeten the deal" for them when compared to most goblins. And so far to the surprise of the group, it was Pala's sharp premonitions that helped guide them to where they were that day.
"So, what's for dinner?" asked Kolark with such carefree naivety, the others could only stare back dumbly.
"Pretty soon you if you do not cease your babbling!" Laya scolded.
"I wouldn't argue with that," Vincent added placidly, earning him a stiff look from the tauren.
"Calm down, people," Scarlet intervened, "once Chappy gets us the proper connections, we'll be-"
"Everyone, quiet down!" came a swift whisper from Bernard, the group's scout. He rustled out from the tall grass, bearing a startled look. "There are Lodisian soldiers heading past this way! They're most likely heading to Booty Bay. If we remain silent enough, they'll journey right next to us without even knowing we were ever here."
"Lodisian?" whispered Jedo in confusion.
"I'll explain later," Scarlet said in the same low tone.
Soon enough, the clatter of steel armor and strange voices edged their tiny camp, and just as quick it began to fade. Kolark shook his head, his red leather armor gleaming in the barely-lit campfire.
"Those are the same lame soldiers whose behinds I kicked, aren't they?" he asked Scarlet after taking a peek.
"You mean the lame soldiers we barely escaped from?" she corrected with a slight touch of humor. "Yes, they are. They are somewhat skilled, but they lack the intellect my men possess. Thanks to all my loyal knights, and Kolark, I managed to evade them for what seemed like forever."
"Scarlet," Jedo began, "I kind of hoped you would tell me who you truly are, finally. Where is your home, and who are these 'Lodisians'?"
Those were all questions Scarlet had seemed to avoid for quite some time, and ones that had long needed answers. She closed her eyes and smiled, then turned to her strict guard, Laya. The elf merely kept her gaze away from the princess, knowing it was inevitable.
"Well, if it really matters to you."
Everyone seemed mesmerized by the princess' conversation, even her own men, the group gathering around except for Pala, who had been meditating. Kolark had kept an open ear, but chose to sit facing the sea, leaning his broad back against his tent.
"My home is very distant," she began, "and cannot be found anywhere on Azeroth."
"So, you're not from this world?" Jedo ascertained with amazement.
"Precisely."
There were blank stares from everyone, of course except for Scarlet and her people. Even Kolark seemed to have fallen off his reclined position.
"Does it surprise you that much?" Scarlet said after giggling. She didn't seem so uncomfortable after all. "I mean, you humans are friends with some outworlders yourselves. Have you forgotten about the Draenei?"
"Well, I've never personally known one," Jedo replied, "but they just seem like a totally different race. You and your people look exactly like us, though."
"We were surprised about that, too," the princess said with wonder. "But when we began to study your world's history, to allow us to blend a little as well as to adapt, we discovered that there was some faint connection between my world and yours. If we knew what it was, we wouldn't have turned into such drifters, which ties in with our goal. However, my world is startlingly similar to yours; we have the same life forms, for the most part. We don't seem to have the many sentient beings we see here, but the humans, dragons, undead, and others begin to hint at something. We don't have demons walking on our plane the way you all do, though, at one point we did.
"As for those men who have pursued us relentlessly, they are from Lodis. They are ruthless and overambitious, always conquering and expanding their enormous empire. They have long been at war with many lands, including my nation . . . Palatinus."
"So you are the princess of Palatinus?" Jedo said with a frown. "Sounds like your world's situation is no different from mine. My father is a general in the army of Stormwind, and he is always talking about some war with the Alliance's enemy, the Horde."
"General of Stormwind, huh?" Scarlet muttered. "Anyway, yes. There is always conflict on our world as well. This is one thing that links our worlds. However, I've been thinking greatly on the subject and came up with a very sensible solution; there's one very important aspect our worlds share."
The others just awaited patiently, grasping at her last words.
"Hey guys!" came a raspy voice, one that caused them all to groan in frustration.
"Chappy, back already?" Jedo asked, hoping to hear some good results.
"Yep," he nodded, his head nearly falling off, "and boy, do I have news for you!"
"Did you find this 'Gazlowe'?" Scarlet asked, standing up with great anticipation.
"I did better than that," he said enthusiastically. "I got him to come along, no extra charge!"
Behind the small green guy was yet another one, except he was larger, gruffer, and a bit older. He wore the same smirk and those sleazy goblin eyes. Gazlowe, the world-renowned engineer, was just who they needed to get them to the island, lickety-split.
"Hey kids," he saluted with a deeper-set voice than Chappy's, "heard you needed help from the best engineer. Well, look no further! I can have you on Serenity Island in no time at all."
"Serenity Island?" Jedo whispered under his breath. Chappy just shrugged, a confused look on his feeble features.
"Well, there's more," said Scarlet, whose face became filled with concern and much doubt.
"We're being pursued," finished Pala, who had apparently awoken from her rested state and overheard them talking. "We need for you to do us a great favor."
"Well, as a goblin always says, where there's a favor, there's a price," Gazlowe said with a businesslike savvy. "But, my friend here says you are in a tough bind. So, I will do something a goblin has never done before; I'll put off all debts entirely."
"You mean it's 'free', don't ya?" asked Kolark.
"Uh, that word doesn't exist in our business language," Chappy added bluntly.
"At any rate, ya'll just have to follow me to our Jaguero Island Zeppelin Pad," Gazlowe said proudly. It was quite the miracle, but it seemed not all goblins meant to extract money from clients, especially those being chased by other clients. Little did the group know that the missing supplies and food was Chappy's "peace offering" to the goblins of Booty Bay.
-Plaguewoods . . . outskirts of Naxxramas and Stratholme.
Sylvanas' goal was upon completion. Her forces had ultimately overrun the lich, Kel'Thuzad's, forces in a battle of sheer numbers. She managed to blow back his mindless troops, while at the same time distorting his control over them. Her new plague worked wonders, but her only fear was that the Lich King Ner'Zhul, the creator of the original plague and now one with Arthas, would find a means to counteract her newly formed one. That meant she had to act fast. When she finally breached the outpost past the river near Terrordale, she found the way to Naxxramas nothing but a mere stroll through the park, which could only mean they fled to their capital to stage a final showdown. Now, Sylvanas was at a crucial point in her quest that would inevitably mean the difference between victory and utter defeat.
Once she and Nathanos met at the encampment in the Plaguewoods, she would discuss with him her plan to destroy Stratholme. The banshee queen figured that by taking out the Scourge-infested village, it would eliminate any means of immediate reinforcements to the capital. And besides holding an element of surprise, it also meant fresh troops for her, since many Scarlet Crusader idiots still fought for control of the land. The plan seemed a worthy one.
"My queen, I have returned," came a withered voice. Surely enough, it was Nathanos Blightcaller, riding his undead stead. He was every bit as equivalent to the lich king's Death Knights, if not stronger. He was an expert swordsman, a potent spell caster, and an even more skilled leader. Sylvanas had always placed her trust on her general during trying times.
"Excellent," she responded with little emotion detectable. "Now we can speak about the next part of my campaign . . ."
Night had fallen on the diseased plaguelands, although ash and smoke constantly made it seem so. It was now the Forsaken's move, the moment to turn the tides of the battle. With Sylvanas and Nathanos leading the way, the army of undead made their way to the devastated human town known as Stratholme. The place was still in shambles, apparently frozen in constant war. One side was "controlled" by the Scarlet mongrels, and the rest, by the Scourge. The town was eerily quiet, much to the Dark Lady's discontent. She expected to walk into the midst of a grueling battle, imagined her meat wagons catapulting her plague right between the warring two sides. However, there were no humans and no Scourge.
"My scouts told me they noticed the Scarlet Crusaders marching on the town," Nathanos announced, sounding perplexed himself. "And Scourge activities haven't dissipated yet."
"I sense something most foul," she said almost to herself, at the same time halting her forces.
"Dark Lady!" came a lieutenant from her ranks, a banshee. "We're being followed by humans from the south. And several more are coming from the north. It's an ambush by the Scarlet Crusaders!"
"What?" the queen cried out in shock. "A two-sided ambush. This is a most cowardly, if not reckless, attack. They've gotten very desperate. Nathanos, I want you to engage those on our tail. I'll hold off the oncoming forces. Damn, I won't have enough meat wagons to deploy the plague, not if I have to divide them. This is going to be a decisive battle."
"Take the meat wagons, my queen," he said with much honor, "for I shall battle those despicable men without the aid of the plague. Do not fear for me."
"Very well," his queen sighed, "hold them off long enough, and retreat if things go bad. I want you back in one piece, is that understood?"
Blightcaller heeded her words in an instant, bowing quickly and heading for his mount. This fight would most definitely lose her more troops. It was now a matter of infecting as many humans as they could.
"The Scourge have arrived!" called out a Forsaken warrior in the frontlines, the filthy Scourge puppets emerging from every crevice of Stratholme buildings and alleyways just as he alerted the others. A few ill-fated Forsaken were immediately cut down by several skeleton warriors, signaling the arrival of necromancers. It seemed either Kel'Thuzad had gotten incredibly lucky, or he actually was wary enough of such an attack. Either way, she was fortunate in her choice to place the attack on Stratholme and not Naxxramas, where the attack strategy would have been an utter disaster. Still, she found herself in a real tight situation. She'd either have to fight off the two armies at once, suffering tons of casualties in the process, or swallow her pride and retreat.
"Damn them!" Sylvanas yelled in frustration. "We cannot take them all! We shall have to pull back and lose our ground!"
Forsaken undead scurried back to the outer edge of the plague woods upon the order of the banshee, their only hope now for the Scourge and humans of the north to meet and wage war amongst themselves. If that was so, only those humans in the south would have to be disposed of, and then they could decide on either fully retreating or pushing on through. Still, both forces intended on slaying Sylvanas' men. It would get extremely ugly if all three armies were to fight. The undead queen assembled her troops as quickly as she could, time running short, her new goal being to elaborate on their next hopes.
"Listen to me, Forsaken!" she called to her men. "Nathanos is busy fighting those fools from the south. Because of this, we cannot retreat to our encampment, and traversing through the winding woods that lay adjacent to our base would only get a bulk of our fighting force lost. This leaves us only one choice. We must stand our ground! We must show them that neither human nor Scourge can compare to the might, sorrow, and valor of the Forsaken! Rally our meat wagons, set the plague! We are going to take Stratholme no matter what it takes!"
Filled with a renewed sense of worth and reason, the genocidal Forsaken raised their weapons in a display of honor and fury. Sylvanas, just as eager to shed the blood of both inferior races, began aligning her troops: meat wagons, of course the essential unit, remained behind the frontlines, protected by shadow priests. Warriors and other priests remained on the fronts where they'd inflict the highest amount of damage. Spell casters consisting mainly of banshees and specters remained farthest from the fronts, supporting and destroying amidst the shadows. Unfortunately, her warlocks were currently still missing, so this was as far as she could afford. The newly-spawned troops she gained control of through the plague were brought back to camps for immediate re-training, which took less than a day because of their past experience in their old lives. This made production easier and more efficient; quite simply, they had the advantage in combat. Even as she led her fighters into the fray, her rogue scouts were investigating other matters, such as searching for strayed troop members who'd been separated during the fight, friend and foe alike. This allowed a further tactical advantage as battle continued to escalate. One last thing was clear; as long as she held the plague, none could best her equally.
Sylvanas wore a grim smile as she witnessed the foolish humans attacking the Scourge. She was right about them assuming all undead were one. Complete fools.
"I couldn't help overhear your invigorating words," a cool, collective voice sounded through the woods behind the emboldened Forsaken. All warriors turned to the very woods that separated them from their camp, a vast stretch of trees and darkness.
"Who dares spy on the Forsaken?" asked Sylvanas with more interest than defiance. Had it been more men for the battle, she would have easily forgiven them. However, the chances were extremely low. After she spoke, a human figure glided toward her.
"You are the legendary Sylvanas Windrunner, the banshee queen, are you not?" he asked, unmasking his face and features from the dark. He wore a wide grin on his human-elven face. He had pointed ears and wore a vestment that resembled that of a nobleman, complete with neck-tight frills. His skin was smooth and gray, very much dead like Sylvanas' army. He did, indeed, glide, for he wasn't human nor elf.
"Who wants to know? Who, or rather, what are you?" Sylvanas had her bow slightly raised toward the odd man, ready at any moment to shoot him down if he so much as breathed wrong.
"I am Lestat, the undead. I am a vestigial race from a land far away. My race, the vampires, share a culture with some of your land's more . . . infamous species, making our survival rate here incredibly low. Rest assured, I am an undead like yourself, and those loathsome humans and 'Scourge' have mercilessly slaughtered my people since our arrival through the portal. My people, also undead, will gladly lend you the final strength you need to defeat both of your persistent foes."
"I see, an interesting story," Sylvanas considered. "Well, we do need help. And your story seems plausible, for the moment. I accept your assistance. How far are your forces?"
A larger smile crept on Lestat's relatively fine features. His smooth, slicked-back hair began to waver as he floated high above the trees of the forest and began laughing as if Sylvanas had said something amusing. In the wooded area behind him, there was movement. Eyes could be seen shining through the blackness of night. Mournful sounds could be heard within the thick fog. Sylvanas knew, now.
"Haha, my dear Sylvanas! I am the ruler of the night, and the sole king of the undead of my old world! My brethren are everywhere!"
Sylvanas was beginning to regain the confidence she had at the start of the one-sided war. She nodded briskly and spoke even swifter.
"Fine then. I want you to give the Crusaders to the north a surprise attack. Take them from behind, and they'll fall like mice as they'll be forced to divide their attention between you and the Scourge. Meanwhile, as the humans lose their men, and the Scourge push them away, I shall lead my own forces onto that very battlefield, reclaiming that many more fresh units through my engineered plague. Understood?"
"A most sound plan," Lestat replied. "However, what of those from the south? Your men there will not last against for long."
"Their goal is to stall them as long as they could. They shall retreat when survival is deemed impossible, thus we must act quickly! Our actions must intertwine with Blightcaller's."
With no further words, the vampire suddenly became an agile bat who fluttered away to some other distant woods. Sylvanas had to assume he had an army amassed throughout the Plaguelands. If this was true, Naxxramas would be hers in a living heartbeat. Meanwhile, the undead queen led her men into hiding until the time was right.
The moments flew by, and just as she had anticipated, the Scourge were making short work of the overzealous bastards. The fools had followed her men, thinking they were undead from Stratholme. Now they would have to pay for their deadly mistake. Sylvanas' only regret at that point was allowing the Lich King even more recruits. Soon enough, though, she'd get her share. Following closely, yet, safely behind, the Forsaken watched as the frail, outnumbered humans attempted a retreat. It was a bittersweet sight. Still, their moment of victory was merely at hand.
"Let us show them how Forsaken battle!" cried the Dark Lady.
With the last of the Scarlet Crusaders making their escape, Lestat's forces suddenly materialized through the forested curtains, their sheer numbers horrifying the humans into a state of hysteria. They didn't last even minutes. The undead Lestat controlled were very similar to the Forsaken. They wore the same armor, cast the same spells. However, there were also reanimated skeletons, enigmatic wraiths, and hooded creatures similar to the average lich, all which bore a faint resemblance to the Scourge. Using battle axes and arcane spells from the nether, the otherworldly undead quickly made their way toward the marauding Scourge, who were oblivious to Lestat's terrifying numbers. Just before the mindless creatures could reach the vampire's undead, a barrage of arrows and fiery spells hit them from behind as Sylvanas led her people against the Scourge. Repeating the siege strategy, the Scourge began to fall just as easily as the humans had, only they had a stronghold to tactically retreat to; Stratholme. Lestat ordered his ghostly men to hover over and vanquish the slow Abominations, further hindering the opposition of hard-hitting fighters. For the same intents and purposes, he commanded his spell-casting lich to silence the necromancers as his skeletons took care of them for good. It took them less than thirty minutes to force the lich-controlled undead to head back into the haven that was Stratholme.
"I want this town burnt to ground once and for all!" Sylvanas' spectral voice sounded through the battle. At that order, mages began to cast fireballs and immense flame waves at the worn and long-since razed buildings of the first Scourge-wrecked town. Houses fell easily beneath heavy axes and swords. Old wood burned quickly and easily, weakened by earlier fires. Meanwhile, those led by Lestat followed the Scourge renegades further within, finishing the last waves as Sylvanas used her plague to reclaim additional troops. Stratholme was falling to the ground, and the necropolis known as Naxxramas, her next target, was about to be hers at last.
"My queen," a battle-weary Nathanos said from somewhere behind. Sylvanas turned to him immediately, hoping to hear good news from the southern skirmish. "The humans have made for a retreat. I've already ordered our men at camp to stay fully alert and to destroy any interlopers that stray too close. It looks like we are victorious by some miracle."
"We cannot rest yet, Nathanos," yet she replied coldly. "With our forces having the upper hand, I want us to complete what we came here to do. Send a messenger to the Wetlands, quickly. That is where the nearest orc outpost was built for Nazgrel's campaign against the humans. I want to fortify the plaguelands by the time we reach Naxxramas at dawn."
"But . . . my queen, how can you be so certain we'll have the fighting power to defeat the lich, Kel'Thuzad? If anything, we should use the orcs against him, then worry about fortifications."
"My dear Nathanos, I appreciate your advice, but it seems things have turned in our favor while you thwarted the Scarlet forces. We have new comrades, now. Ones that I believe will make all the difference in this war."
The flight via zeppelin had been a quick one, much to the content of the others. Off the coast of Jaguero Isle, the renegade band bore witness to one of the most amazing things they'd ever seen. The island seemed an optical illusion, nothing more. However, when they actually landed there, just as the zeppelin hit the flight pad, they were dumbstruck by the beauty and awe it emitted. The island was, in short, a paradise. It remained hovering, according to Gazlowe, because of several devices his workers fused within the outlying rocky bottom of the majestic continent.
"How did you come across this place," Scarlet asked the goblin in disbelief, "and what possessed you to raise it from the ocean bed?"
"Well, a client paid us to do so," he replied with a sly look, "but the rest is completely confidential."
"Nothing too extraordinary, if you ask me," snorted Kolark with crossed arms.
"You mean a whole unexplored continent floating in the sky doesn't surprise you?" Jedo questioned the bounty hunter.
"Not in the least . . . wait, are those cactus apples? I love cactus apples! This place isn't half bad after all!"
As the half-starved Tauren began to feast away, the others took in the lush environment. It was quite jungle-like on the island, except many varieties of vegetation grew on it from various lands with different climates, such as the desert-grown cacti. The soil beneath their feet was plush and moist, and many different kinds of creatures scuttled about or flew abroad. It was filled with mysterious sights, odd scents, and exotic sounds. Nonetheless, they would have to assume it was also filled with equal the amount of danger. On that note, Pala advised the group to unload all their things and set up a more permanent settlement. After an ample time of exploring and searching for the right spot, they were well at home.
"This seems to be the roomiest and safest of places to settle in," Scarlet told Pala and Jedo. "Shall we get started?"
Thanks to Scarlet's deep pockets, they were able to hire several goblins to construct modern buildings made of wood and stone, just enough to accommodate all of them. With the aid of overworked goblin architects, goblin shredders, and Gazlowe, the place was practically complete by nightfall. Everyone was taking long-deserved rests within their new confines except for Pala, who was outside by a bonfire thinking to herself. Meanwhile, Jedo and Scarlet spoke quietly next to the arching fifteen-foot "command base", which they liked to poke jokes at.
"So, there's a connection between us both, huh?" Jedo said absent-mindedly.
"Yeah, apparently so," replied the princess, "or else we wouldn't be here talking to each other, would we?"
"Right. By the way, what were you gonna say, you know, about that link you thought our worlds had?"
"Oh, that's right. I forgot all about that. Well, it has to do with an old folklore my mother used to always tell me. Promise me you won't laugh when I say this, okay?"
"Of course, I promise," Jedo said with an amiable smile.
"Okay, well, the way it goes is that there was this one great entity, one that thought it would be great to design a whole world with its own creatures and inhabitants with their own destinies. Her name was Berthe. But then, Berthe decided it would get awfully lonely without another similar one. Because of the similarity, both worlds and its inhabitants weren't lonely, but war soon began to wage over minor differences, so the way between them given to them by the great entity was closed. Thus, tragically, each world was forgotten to each one. But, here's what I've concluded from the story and Azeroth. The link I spoke of before came in the evil that was spawned from this great war, the demons. They are the link. Or rather, evil is.
"In my world, there was this horrible war we called the Ogre Battle. On the day of the war, demonic creatures attacked our homeland for control. Their savage, damned world was no longer of interest to them. However, they were fought off and driven back to their dark home, in a place you people call the 'Twisting Nether'. Ogre Battle is inevitable, constantly a threat to my people. It is like here, with your people. Evil, and monsters possessing evil, shall always cause war and pain. After the second Ogre Battle, my people have learned humans, too, are capable of harboring this evil, what we call the Infernal Aura, which explains why Ogre Battle shall always be omnipresent."
" . . . Wow."
"Yeah, yeah, pretty stupid, huh?"
"No, not at all," Jedo replied immediately, captivated by her thoughts. "It makes a whole lot of sense. One could say we have our own 'Ogre Battle'. It strongly reminds me of these legends we have of the Titans. But, what I want to know is, why is it called that when the war involves demons? Ogres aren't demons . . . are they?"
"Well, in our world, the demons seemed to have taken a liking to ogres, recruiting them onto their amassing armies after full corruption, or so legends say. They aren't the same, though, as the ones on your world. They are much stronger and brighter than the ones I've encountered here."
"You've really done lots of research on Azeroth, Scarlet," Jedo said, lost in fascination. "I'll take it those gems you were after in Northshire were some way to get you back home, right?"
"How did you know?" she asked in amusement.
"Heh, you just told me."
"Nice guess, and yes, you are correct. Laya and Vincent told me of a legend they uncovered on one of the ruins on this world. It talks of a way to leave this world."
"If you're stranded on this world, how did you get here to begin with?"
"By accident, actually. Long story, but we found this strange portal, and our land was massacred by Lodis. To top it off, the king, my father, was slain. Laya and Vincent . . . insisted that I escape before the Lodisians could kill me. I was against it, but stuff happens, I guess."
"Oh . . . I'm sorry."
"Thanks, Jedo. But I'm long over that. Magnus Gallant was the greatest ruler Palatinus ever knew. And I was to succeed him. But I couldn't even save my own people from Lodis' rule. I've failed them."
There was a prolonged silence, one that made the two uneasy. Luckily, Scarlet wasn't nearly as upset as Jedo had imagined her to.
"How's about we see what Pala is doing?" Jedo asked with a bright look on his face. He stood up and offered Scarlet his hand, lifting her up with one muscular arm. The pair made it to the bonfire just in time, for the tauren shaman had finished her meditation.
"You two seem to be carrying yourselves well," Pala teased, smiling even as her eyes remained closed. The two only blushed, smiling like little children. "Well, you both came right on time. I've received another vision, one that could set us off in the right foot."
"That's good," Scarlet said wearily, "because I had no clue how to start off. Wanted by the Alliance, hated by the Horde . . . we're nearly trapped, kept safe only until they find us up here somehow."
"Don't worry about that," Pala reassured, "for Gazlowe and I have discussed those matters clearly. His people will not allow any foreigners up here so long as we help him slowly excavate the continent for him, which will in turn help us in many ways. What we need to concentrate on now is the matter at hand, and that includes the demonic uprising."
"What can we possibly do?" Jedo asked, his demoralized tone catching Pala's attention. "The entire world seems to practically hate us since Frohm framed you for the king's death."
"Well, my friends, that's what I've been also pondering about," she replied with a simple smile. "There's actually two things I feel we should do that could turn the tide for us. However, we would have to steel ourselves for where it will take us."
"We've nothing to lose," Scarlet chimed in.
"She's right," Jedo agreed.
"Alright, then. Accomplishing these two feats will take all the courage you can scrounge, so listen carefully. I have recently prophesized of an incredible person, a military tactician, who would save us from the raging fires of war. I still do not know her name, but she is trustworthy, I believe. She is being held in a prison off the coast of Menethil Harbor. Fort Watertight is Frohm's most well-hidden and well-defended prison island, holding some of his most dangerous adversaries who are moments away from execution. We may not be able to save them all, but we need to at least try for this woman. She may be the one who can guide us into the direction of peace."
"Why is she so dangerous to Frohm?" Jedo asked out of curiosity.
"As far as my dreams could tell, Frohm used her for some time as a military advisor, but as she came to realize what a tyrant he truly was, she simply turned her back on him. She intended to remove him from power by helping King Anduin, but the king was too far into Frohm's hand. She was eventually stopped, incarcerated, and deemed a 'dangerous thinker' by the puppet council."
"Oh, I guess we weren't the only ones to suspect him," the dark-haired boy replied.
"Pala," Scarlet spoke next, "you said Fort Watertight was the prison with the highest security, right? Well, we shouldn't waste any time, then. My men and I can take that operation."
"No, this is a job for Jedo," Pala suggested.
"Why Jedo?"
"I need you, Scarlet, to use your diplomatic expertise for something equally as important. And because I am still considered a member of the Horde and you are human, you are our only hope for this."
"What must I do?" Scarlet enquired.
"There is one group who is technically Alliance by default, but does not share the exact same loyalty as one. On Theramore Isle, a sorceress named Jaina Proudmoore reigns over the people there. Some say she even negotiates with Thrall, the Horde war chief, from time to time. A veteran of the war at Mt. Hyjal against the legendary demon, Archimonde, she would never stand by and watch demons threaten our world. If we tell her of the impending doom we may face against the demons, we might actually persuade her into helping us. That's where you come in Scarlet."
The young princess lowered her head, her face appearing slightly saddened.
"I don't know if I can do this. I'm not the diplomatic type . . ."
"Nonsense," Pala scowled for a moment, "you may need more political practice, but you have Laya and Vincent by your side. Now, are you both up for it? You two may be our only hope."
"I'll assist the little guy," Kolark's voice came from somewhere nearby. When he finally came into view, he shook his head saying, "There's no way he can get through that fort, not even with a group of men. You need a tauren with ya for that kind of a thing."
"Are you sure about that?" Jedo asked, unsure of the idea of tip-toeing around with a tauren at his side.
"Definitely. I'm a bounty- . . . er, was a bouncer at another prison . . . about four years ago, yeah. For the Horde, of course. I know my way around places like that."
"Then it's settled," Pala said. "Somewhere over the horizon, there's a bright future for us. Come dawn, let us prove our mettle."
-That same night . . . Orgrimmar, Horde capital . . .
"Chieftain Nazgrel, our base camps at the northern and eastern Wetlands have swept away most of the opposition there."
Those words given to him by his scout had raised no form of response. Nazgrel was too filled with anger and hatred. But it was his duty to see that the humans pay for the countless innocent lives they've taken, even after the pact at Mt. Hyjal. He knew deep down that by doing so, he would free the orcs furthermore from threats once and for all. At last, they could finally bask in glorious light instead of those filthy human scum. It was incredibly rough and was not made without sacrifice, but the orcs had at least rid themselves of their curse; the humans had no purpose but to higher their own self-worth. As long as he remained in Thrall's place, his goal would see fruition. Even his long-felt remorse for leaving Thrall in a coma had begun to cease, and now it was only a matter of militarily dealing with the Alliance.
"Chieftain . . . there is also other news," the scout added carefully.
"Well, what is it?"
"It's Eitrigg. He was found in northern Loch Modan, just by the dam."
"What? Is he okay?"
"He was mildly injured, had only a small portion of those he accompanied him. The savage humans must have ambushed him, but our brother orc managed to escape their clutches!"
This was a most relieving find. Nazgrel knew that after the deception of the humans Eitrigg would be most vulnerable. It was the perfect situation, indeed. With Eitrigg having no choice but to give his venerable support, morale would rise into a fervor in which the human colonies would perish under. Meanwhile, however, Vol'jin, Skychaser, and that strange red-haired girl were finding a means of reviving the ill-stricken leader of the Horde. They worked to no end at finding a cure, and although the red-haired human seemed quite irritable about it, they hadn't turned their back since. That meant he was running out of time. If he could set the stage up, at least, Thrall would be given no other choice but to assist his brethren. Still, Thrall was quite cunning when it came to peace negotiations. Nazgrel didn't doubt that the Warchief would attempt to put an end to war rather than settle it out his way.
It wasn't until after his final thoughts that Nazgrel noticed the orc Stone Guard peering at him from a distance, obviously wanting his attention. His expression was stern.
"Lok Tar. What is it?"
"Nazgrel," began the guard, speaking low as to not alert anyone else, "there seems to be something . . . amiss. It involves the one human and the tauren. Perhaps even Vol'jin."
"Oh? Do tell."
The orc guard signaled Thrall's advisor to follow, and so he did. Led off to the very room he constantly avoided, they waited just outside Thrall's Chambers, listening carefully to the whispers of a few. Nazgrel felt his heart race, imagining the diligent three found out about the Forsaken's engineered disease. Guilt took a firm grip on him for those several seconds.
". . . but, I wonder how he will take it?"
"He be a strong leader. Thrall be finding a way out of war the minute he wakes up."
"Yes, I suppose you're right. I just wish the day would pass already."
"We all feel the same way, Menara."
The spying orc tapped Nazgrel on the shoulder, taking his attention away from Thrall's saviors. He wore a sly look, one Nazgrel never suspected from a guard of his calibur.
"They spoke about it nearly for a whole hour. They will ruin everything for you, Warchief, if you don't do something quick . . . Warchief?"
"Who are you?"
The guard eyed him warily, shaking his head. "What do you mean, 'who are you?'"
"Exactly what I asked you! Are you from the remnants of the Burning Blade? No. A member from that group couldn't have snuck in. Ever since the warlocks were imprisoned, our security was on its highest alert. Tell me who you really are, if you want to live."
The orc knew Nazgrel was adamant on his order, especially when his hand was placed on his weapon. Even under the wolf helm, he could see the orc's resolve, something that saddened him. Nevertheless, the orc-in-guise could only smile at his own folly. In a blur of a moment, the orc became a slim, muscular form. He appeared human, with the exception that his skin was an unnatural purplish color. He had dull, yellow eyes that glowed constantly and looked as maniacal as his wide grin. Hair spiked up stiffly was a dark purple, almost black. And he wore foreign armor that left most of his body exposed. He stood tall, nearly two feet higher than Nazgrel. The orc shaman was surprised, but did not seem daunted in the least.
"My name would be too difficult for an inferior creature such as yourself to pronounce, so just call me Exarthalos."
Nazgrel sneered at the odd humanoid, fearing a vile conspiracy at hand.
"So, you can shape-shift? And you think sneaking into our capital is nothing to worry about? You must be a foreigner of some sort! Otherwise, you would have known those sort of things can instantly get you killed!"
"Please, hold your hostility and save them for your opposition. I am here to help you. With Thrall awakening in just a day or so, you have no time to lose. Victory is at hand!"
"Just what are you suggesting? You have some miracle plan that can defeat the humans?!"
"Calm yourself . . . Nazgrel. You have the power right within your veins. You feared it long ago because you could not control it. That is because those that gave it to you were hoping to take hold of your kind."
"You're talking about the pact with Mannoroth! You're insane!"
"Mannoroth is dead. My mistress, Lady Zeda, is deviating from Sargeras, the one who pulled all the strings behind your people's enslavement. How would it feel to be the true savior of your people, instead of that pacifist, Thrall? How would you like to save your suffering brethren in days, rather than years? We can help you only because we share a similar history. Think about it."
"And the price? I will be blunt with you; I don't trust you or your so-called mistress."
"You don't have to trust us so easily. Just meet with us in Felwood as soon as you can. We will unveil your connection with Lady Zeda and show you the way to victory. If you must win a war, you must use every power available to you at your disposal, and we are that power. So long as you fight this war to win, we shall be there to support you. Even if you decline our offer, we shall support your cause from the shadows. Your victory is our victory. Now, I must be off. There are others just like you who need our help, others you know well."