Many thanks to all who've reviewed, and those who've joined me on my other platforms as well. The links for my Twitch/Youtube/and Discord pages are still up on my profile for anyone who has not yet visited them, and I would be overjoyed to hear from you wonderful people on those platforms as well, should you be so inclined. We're entering an interesting mini-arc here, where I've tried something a touch different from my usual writing. I hope it comes across well and is received positively, as we progress through it over the next handful of chapters! Please enjoy! ~F
Chapter 123
Passages of Time
Nobu'tan set foot on the sand of Tanaris, the strange desert in southern Kalimdor that the Bronze Dragon had told him to travel to.
Apparently, somewhere in this vast sea of sand there was a rise of rocks, within lay the roost of all bronze dragons, and their source of power over time itself.
Distantly, he could see some manner of rock to the east, but his layout of the area had been very limited, as Nobu'tan had had to send out eyes across the sea, the farthest he had ever tried to send an observer while simultaneously negotiating with the Dark Horde's more cautious allies, preparing for the united assault against the Black Temple.
However, even as he started to summon a steed to follow his guess at the correct direction, a flash of bronze above him drew Nobu'tan's attention.
The bronze drake settled lightly into the sand before him, and transformed into the tiny gnome Chromie with a rush of magic, "glad that you could make it so quickly," she said, smiling at him.
"You made an excellent case for why to single me out specifically," Nobu'tan replied.
"You can ride on my back as we get to the caverns," Chromie said, "Andormu is expecting us."
Nobu'tan nodded, waiting as the gnome shifted back to her true draconic form, and climbed up behind the powerful wings.
With a swift jump, Chromie took to the sky, wheeling to the east and catching the swiftest gusts of dry wind to speed them toward their destination.
Once they got closer, Nobu'tan could see clearly that indeed, within the circle of narrow spires, there was a massive cavern entrance, with a full grown dragon guarding like a sentinel. The creature glanced up as they approached, but made no move to hinder Chromie as she sped into the cavern itself at full speed.
Nobu'tan could tell that the dragon enjoyed zipping through the spiraling tunnels as fast as she could, and held on tightly as he watched the shimmering magic that wafted through the caverns. After the first few bends, strange snaps of magic and space wafted from holes in the rock walls, proving quite clearly that there was something special about this place, and it was no mere hole in the mountain.
"Incredible…" he breathed, seeing glimpses of Azerothian history flash in those streams of literal time.
It was beyond anything he had imagined for such a place, but before he could start to even wrap his mind around the idea, they were already cruising in for a landing in a massive chamber far underground.
Even as Nobu'tan slipped from Chormie's back, another Bronze Dragon was approaching, shifting into the form of a High Elf as he neared.
"Greetings, Nobu'tan of the Dark Horde. I am Andormu," he said.
Nobu'tan nodded in greeting, still looking around the vaulted cavern chamber in amazement.
"It is strange place, I know..." Andormu said, smiling at Nobu'tan. "Most mortals cannot actually comprehend what they see here, as often, what they see is not anchored within their own perception of reality. Indeed many of those that have started to come do not remember their visits once they depart."
The Elf sighed slightly, before turning away, "Alas, there is much to be done, and I suppose a quick tour of the primary concerns that brought you to us would be in order. If you would follow me, please..." He added, starting around the central dais where an elder bronze dragon snoozed under what looked like the bottom part of a massive hourglass-styled oriary.
As they walked, Andormu talked. "There are only two truths to be found here: First, that time is chaotic—always in flux—completely malleable, and second, perception does not dictate reality."
They passed a small grouping of various beings, which Nobu'tan sensed were all bronze dragons of different sizes and power. "As custodians of time," Andormu continued, waving at his relatives, "we watch over and care for Nozdormu's realm. The master is away at the moment, which means that attempts are being made to dramatically alter time. The master never meddles in the affairs of mortals but instead corrects the alterations made to time by others. He is reactionary in this regard."
Nobu'tan nodded, focusing on the object and items that the other bronze dragons were working with, fine jewels and other trinkets of curious origins. He recalled the wizards of Earth, and their own tinkering with the powers of time. "For normal maintenance of time, the Keepers of Time are sufficient caretakers. We are able to deal with most ordinary disturbances. I speak of little things such as rogue mages changing something in the past to elevate their status or wealth in the present." Andormu said, seeming to read what Nobu'tan had briefly thought.
They came to an offshoot tunnel in the cave, which seemed to wind its way out of Nobu'tan's sight. But, curiously, the rock walls of the cavern seemed to change the further down he looked, becoming a thick forest, surprisingly similar to Hillsbrad. "These tunnels that you see are called timeways," Andormu explained. "They are infinite in number. The ones that currently exist in your reality are what the master has deemed as "trouble spots". These trouble spots may differ completely in theme but they always share a cause. That is, their existence is a result of the same temporal disturbance. Remember that should you venture inside one..."
Nobu'tan nodded, understanding the predicament so far, and able to guess at bit at what was needed. "This particular timeway seems to lead to Hillsbrad, seven years prior to the time you entered the Caverns," Andormu said, gesturing to the tunnel Nobu'tan was looking at. "We have agents inside, attempting to restore order to it even now. What little information I have indicates that Thrall's freedom is in jeopardy. A malevolent organization known as the Infinite Dragonflight is trying to prevent his escape. I fear without outside assistance, all will be lost."
Nobu'tan frowned, not liking the prospect of allowing his rival to achieve power as Warchief over part of the Horde, but at the same time, he couldn't risk the timeway unraveling and undoing everything he had accomplished either.
"Forces are working against the Horde war chief, Thrall, attempting to prevent him from ever escaping Durnholde Keep," Andormu continued. "If Thrall never escapes, this world–as you know it–will cease to exist."
"So you just want me to enter, right now, without any foreknowledge of what exactly is going on at the time?" Nobu'tan asked.
"Speak with Erozion on the other side." Andormu said, "He will guide you where your actions are needed to prevent the Infinite Dragonflight from stopping the future Warchief of the Horde."
"What am I to do about my appearance?" Nobu'tan asked, "Fel magic and my own power can shield me from prying eyes for a time, but I cannot maintain it effectively if I am to do all these things in addition."
"We have our own means of disguising your presence," Andormu replied, "and the timeline will heal itself when the Infinite Dragonflight presence is removed, eliminating your involvement from the minds of those affected as it reverts to the timeline that we know as history."
Nobu'tan didn't like that notion particularly, but in the end he knew that there was little choice in the matter for him. He had already agreed to help the dragons with whatever plan they had in mind, and therefore he would keep his word.
Marching forward, Nobu'tan felt a tingling sensation of magic wafting over him, even as a powerful illusion of his old humanoid form appeared around him, scar included. It even felt real, as Nobu'tan swiped at the bangs from in front of his eyes.
"Tobias Banu it is then," he said, more to himself than anything, and continued onward, even as the cavern rounded a bend and narrowed into a very real cave entrance.
Waiting there was another High Elf, disguising a dragon. "Erozion, I presume," Nobu'tan said, stepping toward the mouth of the cave and looking out.
It was Hillsbrad, to be sure, but the land was far different from what Nobu'tan recalled of the undead-accosted place. Here, it was thriving and green, looking nearly peaceful compared to its counterpart.
"Yes, I am he," the dragon said turning to him, "You must be the mortal that Andormu said would come to aid us. Excellent," Erozion added, even as he turned to a crate nearby at his feet and began rummaging through it, "now, for a tiny history lesson. The human female, Taretha, was the one to originally free Thrall from his prison in Durnholde Keep, allowing him to escape toward the north."
"Now, however," the dragon said, standing up again and turning back to Nobut'an, "the Infinite Dragonflight has captured Taretha. The diversion will not happen without our involvement. You must use these incendiary devices that I will give you and burn down the internment lodges."
And he held out the rudimentary contraptions for Nobu'tan. Accepting the items, Nobu'tan pocketed them, baffled that he was already being urged out of the cave with still no actual explanation of where to go or what exactly was wanted of him.
Far to the right of the cave's mouth was a road, and Nobu'tan decided it was as great a place to start as any, so he went toward it and looked both ways down the road. The right path seemed to lead into misty darkness. He felt strongly that that was not the way he needed to go, and therefore set off to the left, following the road closely and returning the waves of various travelers that he encountered.
It was an odd sensation for Nobu'tan, to once more be in the Hillsbrad area, but in a time when he knew that he was trapped back on his homeworld. None of these people would have known about him, and many would never live when he returned, from what he guessed about the devastation of Lordaeron that he had gleaned from various sources.
He reached a crossroad, completed with a human tower to watch over the area, and looked at the signpost nearby. Apparently, it he proceeded straight on in his easterly course, he would find the Keep he was directed toward. To the north lay Tarren Mill, with Southshore down the final road opposite.
He knew that time was literally of the essence for completing his mission here, but Nobu'tan couldn't resist the urge of his curiosity, and took the southern path, hoping to catch a glimpse of the human village he had briefly seen so long before as it was before its destruction at the hands of the Forsaken Undead seven years after this point in time.
Nobu'tan had barely made it several more steps when he felt a sensation of extremely familiar magic approaching him. Instinctively, he ducked out of sight into the undergrowth, seeing the shimmer of gold and purple robes as a mage of Dalaran approached, another man at the wizard's side.
The mage was shushing the other man, "Keep your voice down, Helcular. Strangers abound…"
Nobu'tan knew that voice, still heard it in some of the darker times he had experienced since that dire battle in Naxxramus. Archmage Kel'Thuzad strode down the road without seemingly a care in the world, aside from keeping his excitable friend to a more manageable level of sound.
"So you can teach me this… this…" the man, Helcular, was saying.
"Necromancy," Kel'Thuzad clarified, "It is called necromancy. And yes, I have it within my power to bless you with this gift."
Knowing what became of the man he was watching, Nobu'tan still felt a small bubble of resentment well up inside him. Kel'Thuzad had clearly taken a new apprentice, and while still delving into secret powers to some unknown end, it seemed for all intents and purposes that he had moved on from old Tobias Banu.
However, that did not answer the question of why the turned Lich later came to seek Nobu'tan once he had officially returned to Azeroth.
"And the Kirin Tor?" Hlecular asked, "What have they to say of necromancy?"
Nobu'tan rolled his eyes and Kel'Thuzad rebuked the other man, "That is none of your concern, Helcular, as you are neither Kirin Tor nor a necromancer."
The archmage stopped, thinking for a moment before speaking more, "But to be perfectly frank, I do not give a damn what the Kirin Tor think! They are fools, set in their archaic ways."
That seemed to be satisfactory for the other man, and Helcular nodded, "Then teach me, Kel'Thuzad. Teach me everything you know…"
"In due time, Helcular…" Kel'Thuzad said, slowly looking around, "All in due time…"
Nobu'tan could tell that the Archamge had caught a brief touch of the warlock's magical aura, and it would be somewhat familiar to him. He hoped that at this time, the strangeness of Nobu'tan's transformations would shroud him from his former master, and he quietly snuck past them, even as they began discussing other matters.
Once the pair of magic users were out of sight, Nobu'tan returned to the road. He needed a place to hide and wait for the pair to depart, and Southshore was nearest.
As he drew nearer, Nobu'tan spotted men outside working, as well as children running about playing. The seaside town was quite busy for its size, and there seemed to be a great deal of foot traffic in and around the inn.
It would be the perfect place to hide, and conceal his aura among the press of so many customers. Nobu'tan went for the inn with purposeful strides, pushing inside and shifting around the press of people at the left-most side of the seating area.
Normally, Nobu'tan would have been content enough to ignore the group; purchase a pint of ale or something to blend in, and wait, however, the intense aura of magic drew his attention.
The men and women around the table were talking quite loudly, seemingly concerned over some event or another, before one of their number, a paladin from the light-based magic flow from him, raised his voice over them all.
"Keep your voices down. There are strangers about..." the paladin said, and there was something about his voice that Nobu'tan recalled, although he couldn't place it.
"Brothers and sisters, I have called you here today to discuss the fate of Lordaeron." The man said, before lowering his voice to a whisper. Nobu'tan briefly touched the handle of the Elder Wand and murmured a spell to enhance his hearing, more than willing to eavesdrop on the conversation so long as he had to stay here to remain hidden from his old master.
"I hear things... Things that should not be," the paladin said conspiratorially, "The dead rise... Undead, from the frozen northlands. Whole cities have gone missing. I..."
The man paused, before speaking again solemnly, "I have heard that Northrend is lost..."
Gasps can be heard throughout the room.
The paladin shushed them again, before continuing, "We must stand at the ready. I have faced undead before. They are ruthless killing machines, devoid of any emotion or compassion."
Another paladin nodded, and Nobu'tan could make out the younger visage of Tirion Fordring, one of the Argent Dawn of his own time, and a paladin that the warlock actually respected.
"Aye," Tirion agreed with the other paladin, "I've battled them as well. We are ill-prepared as a kingdom to withstand such an assault."
A mage among them leaned forward over the table, "What do you propose, Mograine?" he said, looking toward the first paladin who spoke. Nobu'tan recalled that name, as one of the Death Knights that had lead the armies of Naxxramas against him at Blackrock, some time before the Dark Portal had opened.
"Propose?" Mograine counter-questioned, "I propose that we prepare. That we prepare our loved ones, family and friends for the possibility of an undead holocaust."
Brushing a hand over the chest that sat innocently on the table, the paladin continued, "And there is this..."
Slowly, Mograine opened the chest, and a purple crystal hovered out of the small container, glowing with death and void energies.
"By the Light! What is it?" another woman, in priestly robes, asked.
"I have had this object in my possession for 10 years. Since Blackrock Spire..." Mograine explained, "I wrested it free from the remains of an orc lieutenant - a dark caster... It is from their homeworld."
Several of their number started to edge closer, and Mograine put a hand on the lid of the box, preparing to shut it. "Do not get too close." He warned, "I laid a hand upon it once... Only once, and never again. The memories of that day still linger."
And slowly, the man removed the gauntlet from his right arm, revealing the mangled hand at the end of his arm. "I surmise that this object is the living embodiment of shadows... darkness... It is a manifestation. It is a void." Mograine continued, the others sufficiently warded away from approaching the object.
Another priest, was already shaking his head, "I do not see how this evil artifact is relevant to the undead. We must destroy it!" he declared, but Mograine shook his head.
"No, old friend, it is very relevant." The paladin replied calmly, "Let me ask you this, brothers and sisters: Can good exist without evil? Can there be light without dark? And if that answer is no, then could it be possible that because this artifact exists, its polar opposite must also exist? Could you imagine what the material manifestation of the Light could do against the undead?"
But the priest wouldn't heed the questioning tone of Mograine, "Nonsense, Mograine! It must be destroyed!" he said, before quickly turning his holy magic on the crystal. The brilliant flash of light lashed out at the dark crystaline form, and was absorbed into its purple depths. Shocked silence overtook the crowd.
"It consumed the Light!" Mograine said, baffled.
"Impossible!" Tirion said, equally surprised, before also leveling the power of the Light against the crystal, to the same effect.
Another priest held up a hand for the paladin to stop, before pointing at the crystal, "Is... Is it getting lighter? Its coloration... It is changing."
And sure enough, when Nobu'tan caught a glimpse of the crystal next through the bodies pressed around the table, it was a degree lighter in purple that originally. Additionally the oppressive presence of shadow was lessened.
The priest who pointed out the chance cast another holy spell upon the crystal, before Tirion and the other two priests joined in, rapidly leveling their magic on the substance, until the dark purple crystal shifted the entire gambit of color to a fiery orange, and was almost blindingly powerful in the light itself, having absorbed their faith-fueled magic completely.
"BY THE LIGHT!" Mograine exclaimed, "Could it be? Could this be it? I must know... I will know." Quickly, the man reached out his withered limb to touch the light crystal. The reaction was instantaneous.
As soon as the withered limb brushed the shining crystal, it began to regenerate, new skin stretching pink and whole over the areas where it had begun to rot. Mograine cried out in surprise. "I... It... It is beautiful. What I felt when I touched it... The Light coursed through me and I through it... It healed my spirit."
"Your hand!" one of the preists commented, drawing Mograine's attention. "It is healed!"
Quickly, Mograine put the crystal back inside the chest, snapping the lid shut, "Let us never again speak of this day. Our enemies are many. They need not know we hold such artifacts."
The other nodded in agreement, even as Mograine looked down at his healed hand. "I have seen it..." he said, "From this blessed crystal we will forge a weapon. This weapon will hold inside it a piece of each of us... And when it is used against undead, it shall cast them down. And in its wake, it will leave only ashes..."
Fordring nodded solemnly, "The Ashbringer..." he said, naming the weapon that Nobu'tan recalled him claiming from Mograine inside Naxxramas.
The rest made the same vow, speaking the name of the future weapon of the Light.
Nobu'tan nearly jumped as someone came stomping into the main room from the kitchen, bellowing about the noise. "This is madness! I've had enough! ENOUGH! EVERYBODY LISTEN UP! I'm speakin' to you too, mister fancy britches Mograine! SHUT YER YAP!"
The already hushed crowed around the paladin looked at the man in slight confusion, but the chef blustered on, "NOW, everybody in this bar is gonna keep the noise to a minimum or ol' Jessen is gonna bust out his rollin' pin and go orc on all of ya! IS EVERYONE CLEAR?!"
Nobu'tan felt that the coast was clear at this point. Slipping from his seat, he left a few pieces of money on the table and departed. He had had enough indulgment of his curiosity, and had a mission to complete.
Setting his feet to the north, he walked with purpose back toward the crossroads. Unfortunately, it seemed that Kel'Thuzad and his apprentice had not yet departed, and Nobu'tan was forced to bypass them as the stood off from the road.
Come, Helcular," Kel'Thuzad was saying as Nobu'tan passed, "let me give you a small taste..."
The necromancer muttered a spell, which Nobu'tan knew was some of the earliest abilities of the orcish Necrolytes. He couldn't see the target of Kel'Thuzad's magic, but he presumed that it was something small and easily hidden or destroyed without anyone else being the wiser for what had occurred.
"Now do you see, Helcular?" Kel'Thuzad said, "Do you doubt the power? I control life!"
After a moment, the archmage spoke again. "And death..." and there was a small cry of something small dying.
"I'm still working out some minor details..." Kel'Thuzad added, even as Nobu'tan passed another knot of trees and fell out of earshot for the pair.
Still, it seemed that Kel'Thuzad had stopped trying to search out the auras around him, which allowed Nobu'tan to slip away.
He turned to the right at the crossroads, heading away from the cave that he had entered this time from, and crossed a short bridge over the river.
Spotting Thoradin's wall in the distance, looking much as it had before the Dark Horde took control of Arathi. The wall was whole, seemingly well maintained, flying the banners of Stromgarde proudly in the breeze.
It seemed that the fortress that Nobu'tan would eventually try to capture was indeed the internment camp known as Durnholde Keep.
Seeing the fortress as it once stood was interesting, but the human guards outside eying him as he approached were somewhat concerning.
"Halt, what is your business here?" one of them said as Nobu'tan arrived outside the gate.
Thinking quickly, Nobu'tan decided a level of subtlety would be easier for him in the long run. "I have business with your lord," he said, "let me pass, I am expected…"
It was bold, but Nobu'tan was certain that the pressure of angering their employer would be sufficient to cow them into obeying.
"Lord Blackmoore is not here," the guard said, unfazed at the brazen attempt on Nobu'tan's part, "You do not belong here…" he added, hand going to his weapon.
Sighing, Nobu'tan resigned himself to getting his hands dirty. "I don't have time for this," he said, allowing a burst of Fel to erupt from his hands, striking both guards and sending them flying backward.
Striding under the gate, Nobu'tan glanced around. Other guards were already reacting to his violent entrance, but he was focused on where these lodges he was supposed to light on fire were.
Apparently, like the site in the current timeline, they were settled in a lowered section of the fortress, as though to emphasize how oppressed the orcs had become by their human captors.
With a flick of his hand, Nobu'tan unleashed a torrent of Fel fire, incinerating the advancing guards, even as he carefully withdrew the incendiary devises from his robes. A close examination showed that they were fairly basic, with not enough actual force to do damage to the buildings they were to be placed in, but only simulate fire and produce abundant smoke.
"Come forth servants…" Nobu'tan muttered, calling forth several wild imps from the Nether, who bounced around happily to be in such a lush world.
"You will all hide these among the buildings below," Nobu'tan ordered, handing each imp one of the devices, "return to me once the job is complete, then you are dismissed to return to the Nether."
The imps scattered, even as Nobu'tan started across the bridge that led over the low interment pits, where many orcs were huddled, almost in a dream-like stupor.
Seeing his people in such a state boiled the blood of the warlock, and while he knew in his mind that these were not his to rally and lead out of this dungeon, his heart wanted to with ever ember of passion within him.
It would be so easy, he mused as he tore the next wave of guards apart with the Fel, to change the timeline so that the Kalimdor Horde was never created, but all orcs were reunited under the banner of the Stormreaver.
Nobu'tan resisted the brash impulse. He knew minor amounts of the history between this time and when he and his Earth-born people had returned to Azeroth. There had been a massive war with the Burning Legion, and the Orcs under Warchief Thrall were instrumental in pushing the tide back, as well as slaying the mighty Manneroth, chieftain of the Pit Lords.
Even altering the timestream by a small degree would have catastrophic consequences. Nobu'tan's entire timeline of events, the entire purpose of subjecting the Earth to the flame of the Legion would have been for naught, and that could not be allowed to happen.
Dissatisfied with the flow of events while he was away though he may be, Nobu'tan knew that he had to preserve what had happened in order to save the future of what yet may be.
He would inevitably rule the Horde, unified and whole once more, and even if it took allowing Thrall his moment of power over their shared people, Nobu'tan would do as the Bronze Dragonflight had instructed.
Soon enough, the incendiary bombs started their work, and the imps returned and departed. Smoke wafted up from every building in the lower district of the fortress, and the orc slaves started to run about in confusion and panic, thinking that the hovels they dwelled in were on fire.
The remaining human guards were equally startled, although there was one, clearly the chief among the lower ranked guards, who seemed less disturbed by the chaos around him.
Unknowingly, he turned toward Nobu'tan, even as he was barking orders for his men, "You there! Fetch water quickly! Get those flames out before they spread to the rest of the keep! Hurry damn you!"
Then the man stopped, seeing that Nobu'tan was not one of his foot soldiers, but an unknown inside their keep, and started quickly putting the pieces of what transpired together.
There was a certain level of awareness that even Nobu'tan raised an eyebrow at, as the man drew his blade, challenging Nobu'tan alone, "I know what you're up to, and I mean to put an end to it, permanently!"
The man swung; a severe downward slash that was dead on for the hollow of Nobu'tan neck, but Atiesh was stronger than the metal of the man's weapon, and blocked the strike completely.
Nobu'tan did grunt, however, as he realized that the man's strength was more than a normal mortal's power. The warlock started to suspect that something was not as it seemed with his opponent, but nevertheless, he played ignorant of the fact.
Leveling his hand toward the soldier, Nobu'tan unleashed a barrage of arcane magic, watching as the purple energy washed over the guard-leader, and threw the supposed man backward.
Growling in anger, his opponent leapt up from the ground, charging once more, and spinning in a ferocious whirl, trying to give his weapon more momentum to break the guard of Nobu'tan.
He had to be surprised, then, when instead of soft tissue and cloth, he met the frozen surface of an icy barrier, which Nobu'tan had erected in a flash to impede the sword strike.
"Enough games," Nobu'tan said, releasing a molten boulder, tinted green with an infusion of Fel into the man's armored chest.
The metal armor melted away, and the guard screamed in agony as the boulder seared into his flesh. Curiously, Nobu'tan had to revise his opinion as the man fell easily to the attack.
He had suspected from the man's overwhelming strength that he might be a dragonkin in disguise, but it appeared to not be the case, simply a powerfully build man that hid his physical strength well under the bulky armor of Lordaeron.
"Thrall… must not… go free." The man muttered weakly, even as he expired from the cauterization of many internal organs.
"Curious though, that they would guess the exact reason I am here…" Nobu'tan said, wondering at the heightened security for somewhere that ought to have felt fairly secure.
Still, there were no better options but to proceed, and Nobu'tan worked his way up the rest of the hill to the keep proper. It was the only place he could think for Thrall to be held, if his limited information regarding the background of the future Shaman-Warchief was accurate.
The fools that tried to hinder him from entering the keep met the same fiery fate that their guard leader had, and Nobu'tan swept into the small fort, allowing his magic to flare outward, searching for the orc of great importance that the dragons wished for him to rescue from this dungeon.
There was a presence below, which indicated some manner of basement below the ground floor. Those within the keep were already terrified of the sounds that had heralded Nobu'tan's arrival, and only a few dared to confront him. These ended quickly, icicles of shadow impaling their tinfoil armor and pinning them to walls as the powerful spellcaster moved around to the rear area of the ground floor.
Surprisingly, Nobu'tan found the stairs leading downward without any difficulty, and descended to find the massive cage where a young orc resided.
"Who are you?" the young orc said, standing and edging away from the door of the cage-like prison.
Thinking quickly, Nobu'tan knew that the idea of a time-traveler would likely not go over well with the orc, so he pieced together a story from the information that Erozion had given him.
"Taretha sent me," he said, "there's been a change of plans; I'm going to escort you out of here to freedom."
"You are a friend of Taretha? So this is her new plan? Very well then…" Thrall said, relaxing.
It was odd to see the future Warchief so trusting of humans, but Nobu'tan wasn't going to waste any time in questioning the boon.
Reaching forward, he grasped the massive lock on the door, and channeled Fel fire into it, melting the mechanism into a shapeless lump of molten metal. It dropped with a sickeningly wet plop, and the door swung free.
Nobu'tan stepped back, allowing Thrall to exit the prison and start toward the stairs out. "I do not know who you are, or why you agreed to help Taritha and myself, stranger," Thrall said, as the pair of orcish leaders rose out of the dungeon, "but you have my gratitude. The magic you wield may be dark, but I see now that it can be used for good, just as easily as evil."
Nobu'tan paused, surprised at the wise words for one so young. He smirked, seeing the future wisdom of his rival Warchief already there in the young orc's passionate eyes.
"Lead on Thrall, I will make sure to escape safely," he said as the orc glanced at him curiously.
"Very well then. Let's go!" Thrall said, taking off through the corridors of the keep.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Line Break ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Thrall sat in his fur-covered throne, reminiscing. For some reason, his thoughts had turned to days long past, and his harrowing escape from the clutches of Blackmoore and Durnholde Keep.
He was certain of the facts: that Taritha had ended up sacrificing her life to free him, and in turn freeing all his people.
But for some reason, suddenly he was remembering something else, like the barest shade of a memory that wouldn't quite form correctly.
He recalled another participating in his escape, another human, wielding the green fire of a warlock.
The shaman Warchief had never considered it, but it was this fragment of a memory that had guided Thrall's mercy toward the warlocks of Orgrimmar.
He vaguely remembered that the Fel could be used for good, as well as evil, and he had hopes that he could usher in a new generation of heroic warlocks for the Horde, who used the dire power of the Legion for the benefit of the Horde, rather than for garnering personal power.
He had not thought about those memories for years since the founding of Durotar, but for some reason he was suddenly reminded of them vividly.
Looking around at his advisors, in the midst of their debates over the supplies being sent to Thrallmar as well as reports from adventuring parties all over both Azeroth and Outland, Thrall thought quickly of each of their feelings if he were to reveal this inner thought-memory regarding the righteous usage of the Fel.
Garrosh in particular would not approve. It was obvious to Thrall that the young Mag'har harbored great hatred against warlocks and their magic. But Thrall could not hold that against the young orc. There were valid concerns and old wounds caused by that magic, including the curse upon their people's very skin.
But Thrall hoped to slowly convince the brash Garrosh that just because the warlocks of old under Gul'dan were evil, that didn't mean that all who wielded the same magic were tempted by the same false promises of power.
Or at least, that was his hope. Perhaps their people were just more susceptible to the darkness of the Fel because of their heritage. Still, Thrall chose to hope for good things in the future, and knew that most of his other advisors would have seen what he had seen.
There could be true heroes that also happened to be warlocks, and if they could be held up as paragons of their power, the world could be far better for their inclusion and contributions.