Kalimdor, 20 years after the Opening of the Dark Portal
"Tor ilisar'thera'nal!" came a war cry and at once a great volley was unleashed upon the invaders. Beneath the eaves of Ashenvale Forest, along the shores of the Falfarren River the morning light of day was darkened as hundreds of arrows were launched and the ballista crews fired great ironwood bolts. Not far away upon a shallow river littered with bloated rotting corpses crossing came the outlanders, most of which were large brutish greenskinned beasts wielding axes or carried swords while riding upon the backs of wolves. The once pristine waters were now fouled with blood and decay as countless crows circled above, waiting for the coming feast.
For more than a week now along the shores of the Falfarren, a great battle raged between The defenders Ashenvale, the Kaldorei, the Night Elves and the outlanders which called themselves The Horde with neither side gaining or losing ground. The exposed green flesh of many a greenskinned creature known as Orcs or their wolf mounts were pincushioned by the arrows of the Night Elf forces, The Sentinels while others were impaled in groups by ballista bolts that tore through the ranks and leaving bloody carnage in their wake.
On the eastern side of the river that was controlled by The Horde, many Trolls of assorted skin colors hurled axes and javelins with great accuracy while catapults and spell casters added their fire to the deadly barrage that also claimed the lives of many Night Elves. Even the sky above was a battlefield for Kaldorei Archers mounted on the backs of Hippogryphs traded fire with Orcs throwing poisoned-tipped javelins while riding upon Wyverns from the lands south of Ashenvale.
From the forest itself came a great number of ambulatory trees, Treants that were ready to engage the orcs in close combat while behind them were Nightsaber mounted Huntresses and Dryads respectively wielding throwing glaives and poisoned javelins. Soon battle was joined as blades cleaved into the trunks of the sentient trees which struck back with gnarled wooden fists while the barrage of projectiles continued to be traded back and forth.
While the Night Elves themselves avoided fighting the outlanders in hand to hand combat and leaving such things to the elemental Treants, there was one among them who faced the invaders with blades in hand. Dark blood was sent soaring through the air and into the flowing waters as twin curved glaives slashed the thick green neck of an orc while the other was used to expertly parry an incoming axe before its lower was thrust into the face of the other orc.
Dressed merely in garments of dark leather that covered his lower body along with fingerless gloves of the same material, he most notably wore a brown linen cloth that formed into a blindfold that covered his eyes. Bearing dull grey skin with a full mane of long black hair, the Night Elf who went by the name of Netharis Flameweaver took to the battle with grim resolve as he hacked and slashed at any greenskin that came within his reach.
Easily dodging another orc's axe and countering with a slash that took off the hand of his attacker, the Night Elf then whispered a dark word of power that wreathed his body in bright green flame that burned the outlanders but caused no harm to the Treants around him. Orcs roared in pain as the fires that burned around him seared their flesh and for a brief moment he felt vindicated in his choice to walk the path of a Demon Hunter. Taking advantage of their distraction, Netharis dashed forward with his warglaives by his sides and he thrust them into the gut of an orc before twisting it and slashing outward which caused his victims blood and guts to spill out onto the waters.
Despite the near constant barrage of projectiles that rained down upon the orcs, the resilience of the brutish outlanders allowed them to carry on with the fight as their spellcasters regularly aided them with magical support which the Dryads in turn constantly attempted to dispel. It was not long before the lines of elemental beings began to break beneath the savage assault of The Horde and Netharis knew full well that their presence was the only thing that kept him from being surrounded.
A great feline roar was then heard from behind the Demon Hunter but his concentration was completely focused on the brutal melee where a wolf riding orc swung his massive sword towards Netharis and he barely managed to avoid it while the lupine mount snapped at him. Leaping back to avoid both the orc sword wielder and his wolf, his foe was intercepted by a Treant that swung a gnarled fist struck at the flank of the beast and the orc slashed down into the elemental and turning it into splinters.
It was then that Netharis felt a great power building up from behind him and he heard a woman's voice loudly beseeching the aid of the Goddess Elune. Not far from where the Demon Hunter stood was a silver haired Night Elf matriarch dressed in mooncloth robes, Elunite mail armor and riding upon a regal Frostsaber while wielding an enchanted bow. As she continued her prayer, her form was soon surrounded by a ray of light descending from the heavens above and with it came the climax of that build up of magical power.
In the next moment, countless dozens of magical bolts of searing light descended like meteors from the sky with each one striking an orc with unnatural precision before another bolt did so as well. The savage, bloodthirsty war cries of the orcs soon turned into ones of pain and fear as a great many of orcs were slain by the divine wrath of Elune with even those above falling victim to the barrage.
Soon the attack was turned into a rout as the remaining orcs fled back towards their camp and the Night Elves cheered as they focused their fire now onto the Trolls, spellcasters and artillery. Whispering a quiet prayer of thanks to Elune, Netharis's blindfolded gaze briefly met with that of the Moon Priestess, Anoria Snowmane who did not need eyes to know of the disdainful upon she would have given him before riding off to to help reinforce other Sentinel forces along the river. Knowing well enough that the battle was far from over, Netharis was soon off to wherever he would be needed most.
As the battle still raged upon the shores of the river, a single figure standing upon a ridge watched the ensuing conflict with righteous anger simmering beneath the visage of imperious contempt that he displayed towards the outlanders. Bearing the upper body of strongly built Night Elf male while possessing the lower body of a stag, his head was adorned with a crown of great. This was The Lord of the Forest, the demigod Cenarius who had taken command of all the Night Elf forces within the region and it was through his presence that the Kaldorei fought with a savage fury to match that of the outlander.
By his will, The Sentinels would drive out these barbarians, no matter the cost.
Naggaroth, IC 2532
A cold sea wind blew upon the land and over the ad-hoc warband of elves and their thralls as they moved along the Black Roads of Naggaroth that headed towards the coastal fortress known as Blacklight Tower which could be seen grimly standing sentinel over The Sea of Chill where a great fire blazed upon the top of the structure which allowed it to serve as a lighthouse. The land outside of Blacklight Tower had once been a great forest but millennia of Druchii rule had left it filled with the rotting stumps of countless trees which combined with the dark skies above had painted a picture of cold bleakness. Slaves still clutching crude clubs and spears did their best to keep pace with the much more agile elves who urgently wanted to get to the outpost as quickly as possible with the Grand Carnifex of Khaine having volunteered to remain behind to keep an eye on the thralls while the few Asrai who had participated in the ceremony had already departed to inform their kin and unsurprisingly, the few Druchii collaborators who attended remained with the group.
To the elves it had been a puzzling thing how an orc warband of what must have been in the dozens had managed to so quickly raze one of the hamlets close to Blacklight Tower. Since the start of the Asur's occupation, the Shadow King had made the security of Naggaroth his top priority with numerous patrols regularly going about in search of any monsters or bandits where so far there had been much success in keeping the land relatively safe for further colonization. For some like the Asur of Yvresse, the thought of such a group roving about was indeed troubling for it had a way of attracting the attentions of other greenskins which in turn could herald the sort of invasions which the beasts referred to as a Waaagh.
Within the immediate vicinity of Blacklight Tower the area had been cleared and made into farmland where white stone obelisks attuned to the Winds of Magic channeled the power of Ghyran into the cold earth thus making it more arable. Under the watchful eyes of the Asur Citizen-Militia, a great many of indentured slaves dressed in thick clothing worked the fields where all sorts of cold weather crops were grown while pastures had also been established for an assortment of grazing animals such as sheep, goats or even most recently a type of thick furred cows brought from northern Albion. The sight of the warband immediately drew the attentions of the local guards and soon a group of five horse mounted lightly armored Asur dressed in the livery of Nagarythe rode up to them with the Shadow-Walker stepping forward to meet them.
'In the name of Anar, I greet you Sister of Shadows' announced the lead rider, a chainmail armored black haired elf who wielded a set of throwing spears and a wooden shield that was painted with the heraldry of Nagarythe.
'I am Shaelyn of the House of Mauganar and direct servant to our majesty in the twilight' announced the Shadow-Walker and the riders bowed their heads in respect. 'I have need to see Lord Taodin immediately'
'And may I ask the nature of this meeting?' then queried the rider with curiosity.
'There is a greenskin warband in the area' replied Shaelyn. 'The beasts have destroyed the hamlet of New Eilhart'
'That, that's impossible!' then spoke the rider with shocked disbelief. 'Our forces regularly patrol these lands!'
'We have all seen it with our own eyes' then came another, male voice and stepping forward was a heavily armored greatsword armed Noble wearing a winged helmet and livery which marked his allegiance as of being to the kingdom of Yvresse. 'We have even found a survivor'.
The Yvressian noble then looked back to the group of slaves that followed after the Elves and he gestured for the Dwarf to step forward and the squat creature did so with a grim look upon his face. A look of barely concealed disdain came upon the lead of rider whose eyes fell upon the Dwarf before turning his gaze back to the Shadow Walker who he merely gave a nod towards before turning his horse around and called for one of the riders to escort them to the gates of Blacklight Tower.
Soon the warband was on the move again with the riders spreading out inform the nearby Asur patrols of the possible greenskins presence within the region. It would not be long until they arrived at the guarded gates of the coastal settlement where more members of the Citizen Levy allowed indentured slaves, merchants and other travelers go about with their business. Once behind the dark walls that protected the port town a sense of relief came upon the warband for they could now afford to let their guard down and many began bidding their farewells as the large group disbanded with those elves of Nagarythe leaving for the nearest barracks while others went their way along with their thralls.
In the end all that remained was the Shadow-Walker Shaelyn, the Druchii Sorcerer of whom had been placed under her charge, the Yvressian Noble along with his band of Mistwalkers, The Grand Carnifex of Khaine and the Dwarf survivor who were all continued to be escorted by the rider towards the heart of the port town where its namesake, the Tower of Blacklight stood.
Kalimdor, 20 years after the Opening of the Dark Portal
Words of power flowed from the lips of Makorak as he chanted a spell, each one synchronized with the strikes of his hammer as he chiseled mystical runes upon the standing stone pillar in front of him with each sigil gleaming with the bright green lights of the Fel. His fellow Warlocks did likewise as they worked to stabilize the rift between this world and the other one where he could feel a rush of cold air emanating from the portal. Once he was finished creating the last rune the Warlock took a moment to study his work and he felt a measure of satisfaction as he looked to the other members of his coven of whom had also all finished as well.
With the portal now stabilized the Warlocks did not constantly need pour their power into keeping it open. A cruel smile then creased upon the tusked face of Makorak for this was but the first step and that given time they could reinforce the magiks of the portal which in theory could allow them to make it rival the size of The Dark Portal between their home on Draenor and Azeroth. Familiar green skinned forms immediately stepped through the portal and the Warlock was pleased to see that the scouting party had returned and quickly did he noticed that more than a few of them were spattered in fresh gore. Curiously there were also livestock animals such as cows, chicken and pigs that some of the returning scouts came back with.
'Well what happened? what did you all see?' called Makorak towards the scouts and their leader, the Blood Guard Reshtar came forward with an undeniable pleased look on his face while he held something in his left hand.
'A new world for us to conquer' grinned the veteran Grunt as he hefted a bloodied axe over his right shoulder and with his left hand he hurled what looked to be a severed head at the warlock which landed in a roll near his feet where its dead eyes looked up to the sky above.
'Humans?' queried the Warlock with incredulity for while it was known to the Orcs that Azeroth like Draenor possessed animals many similar animals such as wolves or swine, he did not expect for there to be similar intelligent creatures as well.
'Yes, Dwarves, Goblins even what seems to be other Orcs' answered the Blood Guard who then turned to a sword wielding Raider who was holding his weapon in one hand while the other was on the reins of his wolf which had a clearly green body on its back. The unmounted Raider then stabbed his sword into the ground and he hauled the corpse over his right shoulder before laying it upon the ground.
The Warlocks then approached the body to study the remains of this other orc where soon enough Makorak was puzzled by its appearance and judging by the looks on the faces of the rest of the coven they too had come to a similar conclusion.
'We should bring the body to the Necrolytes' announced the Blood Guard and Makorak was immediately in agreement for the orc-like being had been dead long enough for the Warlocks to be unable to do anything with its soul. The Shadowmoon Orcs then formed up again and headed back towards the base camp while leaving a trio of Raiders to keep watch over the rift.
Just as had been on their way to the circle of stones, they traveled without incident back to the camp where along the way, Makorak eavesdropped and overheard the excited chatter of the scouts and from what he could pick up, this other world was rather cold yet it had plants and a sun quite similar to this one. Once at the gates of the camp they were welcomed back by the guards at the main entrance and the warriors dispersed with the intent on slaughtering the beasts they had taken back, Blood Guard Reshtar and a pair of Grunts carried with them the corpse of the orc-like creature to a macabre structure within the base camp composed of the bones of a long dead Colossal of Draenor and a series of runic stones. It was there at the Temple of the Damned that the new generation of Necrolytes studied the magiks of undeath left behind by their predecessors from the First War but the Warlocks of course headed back to the Tower where they would resupply and report to the Shadow Council of their success.
Naggaroth, IC 2532
The chamber which been made into the office of Blacklight Tower's Commander, Lord Taodin had likely once been the lavish apartment of a Druchii lord was the thought of Inarion as the group he travelled with stood by a welcoming hearth while Nagarthyian Spearmen guarded the doorway leading out. On one side of the chamber to the west was a wooden writing desk where piles of scrolls were neatly stacked upon a nearby shelf while facing northwards was a single glass window reinforced with iron that offered a view of the town's docks while on the east was the hearth where many of them stayed close to with glasses of wine in hand.
Only a lingering vestige of Khaine's blessing now remained within the Yvressian noble, its warmth had been smothered by the chill of Naggaroth and he was glad to have something else to banish the chill. Human servants whose flesh bore the brands of former Druchii ownership attended to the group of Asur and the lone Dwarf, the latter of which was named Brokk who did not seem to pleased in being served wine which no doubt the crude and boorish creature like all of his kind had no appreciation for while wolfing down on platters of bread, cheeses and slices of cold cut meats. Inarion also felt somewhat unnerved by the presence of the Grand Carnifex of Khaine who insisted on accompanying them for the high priest of the Bloody Handed god still wore his grim skull faced helmet while his icy blue eyes regarded them with predatory eyes that reminded him of that of a hungry War Lion.
They did not have to wait long for echoing footsteps could be heard coming down from the hall and the Spearmen guards turned side stepped to adjacent to the the doorway and they tapped the bottom hafts of their spears to announce the entrance of an amber eyed, black haired Noble lord of Nagarythe who was accompanied by another pair of Spearmen.
'I am Lord Taodin, Commander of Blacklight Tower' announced the other Asur and the Shadow-Walker stepped forward to meet him but this time she produced from her belt a silver brooch depicting a crescent moon with a raven in the center of it.
'And I am Shaelyn, we have news of a greenskin warband in the area' replied the Shadow-Walker rather impatiently.
'I have been informed as well of the destruction of New Eilhart' spoke the Nagarthyian noble who then turned his eyes to the Dwarf and he immediately began speaking in a low pitch, ugly rumbling tongue which Inarion knew was the Dwarf language of Khazalid. Brokk's eyes widened in momentary surprise and he began to speak in a more animated fashion while using his native language. Having some understanding of it for Inarion had in the past campaigned into the Orc infested Badlands with his lord, Prince Eltharion he picked up what he already knew that Orcs were indeed responsible for the attack but that the Dwarf noticed as well that there was something very different with the attack altogether, something which the Mistwalkers were deeply aware of as well.
'My lord, if I may be so bold to add' then cautiously came the voice of the Druchii collaborator and the eyes of the Asur Commander was drawn to the Sorcerer with a look of both disdain and barely concealed hostility.
'Speak, Druchii' coldly replied the Nagarthyian lord who Inarion knew full well had the legal authority to have the protection granted by the Shadow King upon any Dark Elf collaborator stripped away and then executed immediately.
'I have also detected a disturbance in the Aethyr' nervously replied the Druchii Sorcerer who surprisingly managed to maintain his composure despite the murderous looks almost everyone in the room was giving to him. 'I would like to volunteer my services in finding out the source of this disturbance for it seems a rather strange coincidence that it would be appear just as when the orc attack happened'
'The Druchii's words may be something worth investigating' then came the deep, baritone voice of the Grand Carnifex who stood close to the fire with arms crossed. 'Do remember that during the last war, rifts to the Realms of Chaos itself had appeared where armies of both daemons and mortals from across the world had poured through'
'That would be impossible, priest of Khaine' replied the Commander. 'The Great Vortex has been perfected, it should prevent more of such rifts appearing and by all accounts the humans from Kislev and Cathay had together dealt with whatever was the causing the other rifts to manifest.'
'So they say' spoke the Grand Carnifex with a shrug. 'But I too have felt something amiss within the Aethyr but only after learning of the hamlet's doom.'
The Nagarthyian noble then stepped back and began to consider his options as he placed his right index finger and thumb upon his chin before finally looking back to the Druchii collaborator.
'What is your name, Druchii?' he then asked, his voice noticeably less hostile this time but in his eyes, Inarion saw the barely concealed hate.
'Tahriel of Ghrond my lord' replied the Druchii Sorcerer with a bow as he pulled down the collar of his robes around the neck and showed them all a gilded torc, his Hadrilkar of which they noted was adorned with a pair of Amethyst Endstones along the beads at the end. 'This is my Collar of of Service which binds me upon pain of death to serve the Shadow King. By it, I swear to serve his will and to protect this realm by investigating the matter.'
'Cease your false pretenses of patriotism, Druchii' spitefully hissed Shaelyn whose gloved hands remained close to her blades.
'Please, allow me a chance a to prove my loyalty to the Shadow Crown' pleaded the Sorcerer and for a moment Inarion became tense as his eyes then shifted to the others to see what they were doing and he mentally calculated on whether he should draw his greatsword or subdue the Dark Elf with his fists should violence erupt.
'If the Shadow King has given you permission to serve, Sorcerer then you have mine' spoke the Nagarthyian lord as he raised a right hand to them all with palm facing forward and he gestured for them to stand down which diffused the situation for now. 'But remember that the eyes of Anar will always be upon you.'
'And what of the Greenskins?' then interrupted Inarion. 'Who knows how many of them may be on the prowl'
'I will assign what troops I can spare to search the area around New Eilhart' nodded the Commander as he then turned his gaze upon Inarion.
'Word should also be sent to my lord, Prince Eltharion in Karon Kar' added Yvressian lord.
'Rest assured that I will have a courier sent by Eagle to the Tower of Despair' replied Taodin. 'I know all too well the sort of hatred the The Warden of Tor Yvresse bears to all Greenskins.'
'And what of the Shadow King himself?' then asked the Grand Carnifex.
'Such contact will prove more difficult' answered Taodin and the Shadow-Walker nodded in agreement. 'Last I have heard, our Lord Anar is hunting Autarii rebels within the Granite Hills, he may still be occupied or perhaps he is on the way back? Only the Gods know what paths the Shadow King himself walks.'
Kalimdor, 20 years after the Opening of the Dark Portal
A shimmering disc of Fel light lit up the dark interior of the Tower as the coven of Warlocks performed another spell, one that was far simpler than the opening of a portal between worlds. The disc expanded until it reached a size similar to that of a mirror, like those used by wealthy humans to see their own reflections but what they saw on the other side was a dark place where a menacing black cloaked figure with red glowing eyes gazing back at them. The coven then bent their knees and bowed in obedience.
'Report' came the dreaded whispering voice that belonged to Teron Gorefiend.
'As ordered, we have opened the way to a new world master' replied Makorak. 'Our scouts report that it is much like this one, colder but fertile and green.'
'Fascinating' replied the Death Knight in a way that Makorak noticed did not sound surprised, as if he was expecting such words. 'Another coven of our clan far to the south of Kalimdor have also opened the way to a new world and have found it filled with the warmth of life.'
Momentarily taken by surprise at knowledge that another portal had been opened, Makorak then looked to his fellow Warlocks and judging by the looks on their faces this was news to them as well. Having hoped that this success would help elevate him to be on path in becoming a member of the Shadow Council, the Warlock realized that he and the rest of his coven were still just mere tools of their masters, a position only slightly above the Grunts in station. Immediately regaining his composure Makorak continued to put on a façade of obedient servitude towards Gorefiend but within a seed of resentment had been planted.
'There are also intelligent beings in this other world master' continued Makorak. 'Humans, Dwarves, Goblins and even creatures that resemble us Orcs'
'Orcs?' questioned the Death Knight whose dead voice now held a genuine degree.
'Yes master' replied the warlock. 'But we have only found corpses which have been brought to our Necrolytes'
'Inform me of their findings' then spoke Gorefiend. 'I shall inform our agents among the other clans to begin sending more scouting parties but know that your actions have pleased the Shadow Council'
'We live to serve, master' obediently then said Makorak with a bow of his head while his fellow warlocks spoke similar words.
Already his mind was considering his options on whether he should make contact with those he suspected were Doomhammer's spies and let them know about the other world but the more practical and rational part of him was affirmed that it would have still been within his long term best interest, especially as a warlock to remain in favor of the Shadow Council. The shimmering disc of light then extinguished and the room was left in a darkened silence with only the work of the peons outside being heard.
Rising up to stand, Makorak then looked to his fellow Warlocks who all were immediately aware that there was not much left for them to do until they received their next orders from the Shadow Council. Without needing anything else to be said, the members of the coven dispersed with some returning to their personal quarters while others headed outside where the camp's cooks would likely prepare the captured livestock for slaughter.
Deciding to retire back to his own personal quarters as well, Makorak physically felt weary from the day's spell work. Now he was left to his private thoughts and personal feeling off discontent towards the Shadow Council for within his heart burned an ambition to rise up among the ranks of his clan and The Horde itself.
A sullen mood pervaded the Kaldorei base camp as dozens of warriors had returned for respite and to re-supply from the near constant battle along the river. Both the wounded and dead were carried by their comrades to the Moonwells where the Sisterhood of Elune either performed rites of healing or funereal ones for the fallen. Mournful arias were sung by the clergy of the Moon Goddess as the bodies of the slain were draped in burial shrouds before being brought to a nearby abandoned gold mine that had not yet collapsed, an Altar of Elders had been constructed close to the mine with the dead passing beneath the gaze of the hooded statue as if it guided them to the afterlife.
It was in these moments of lull between the battle did the Priestess of the Moon, Anoria Snowmane begin to feel the weight of this war where so much Kaldorei blood had already been spilled and she knew full well that much more would be before this conflict was done. Standing on her own two feet with her frostsaber stabled along with the other feline mounts close to the Hunter's Hall, she took a moment to survey the camp.
Situated a little to the north along the road leading towards Astranaar in the west, the Night Elf base camp was merely one of many constructed to block the path of the outlanders should they try to cross the river. Like with many military settlements used by The Sentinels, its perimeter was guarded by Ancient Protectors strategically rooted near trees where the owl companions of the Huntresses roosted and kept watch for any attackers. Numerous pitched tents surrounded all three types of Ancients that oversaw the training of fresh soldiers along with their beasts while more permanent structures such as the Hunter's Hall and the numerous Moonwells provided for the troops stationed there.
The sounds of hammers striking metal could be heard from the Hunter's Hall where smiths and other craftsmen forged new equipment for the Night Elves or were busy making repairs. The loud splintering of wood could be heard as a group of wounded Ancient Protectors used their gnarled, clawed hands to pick up and devour logs of lumber safely harvested by the Wisps which also worked to mend the venerable guardians while unmanned Ballistas were also being serviced by the spirits. Beneath the stern gaze of the base's Ancient of War, bows twanged and arrows whistled through the air as bands of fresh new Archers practiced firing drills at green painted dummies for soon these new recruits would be sent towards the frontlines.
Not since The War of the Shifting Sands had the Kaldorei faced such a fearsome foe as these outlanders who unlike the Qiraji now struck at Ashenvale itself. A sense of unease also filled the minds of many of the older Night Elves for the demigod himself, Cenarius had claimed that these invaders, the Orcs bore the corrupting taint of the Burning Legion within their blood. There were now many who believed that the outlanders were merely the vanguards of a greater invasion planned by the demons with High Priestess Tyrande Whisperwind having traveled north to rally their armies.
If this was true, then Goddess and any other deity help them for it took the combined might of the Night Elves, the Ancients, The Dragon Aspects and other races to drive back the demons but even then, the cost had been a heavy one, especially to the world itself. Such dark thoughts were more than enough to sow a seed of despair and doubt within the heart of the Moon Priestess who was certain that there were others who felt the same yet what else could they do was fight and put their faith in Elune.
The smell of freshly spilled blood and charred meat then reached the nostrils of the Moon Priestess who looked to her left and a cold glare came upon her face as she saw the Demon Hunter, Flameweaver approaching the Moonwells. Blood, both his own and those of the outlanders covered the warrior who still held onto his warblades as he trudged towards the sacred pools with no one at the camp attempting to intervene. Like many of his kind, the Demon Hunter's presence was merely tolerated by The Sentinels for he had proven to be useful in the fight with the Outlanders but had there been no invasion he would not have been welcomed among them.
Shaking her head at the distasteful presence among them, the Moon Priestess then headed towards the Moonwells for she had need of its blessed waters which sparkled beneath the light of the setting sun. Having spent a great deal of her own power, the Moon Priestess had need of the sacred waters to replenish her strength for come nightfall it would be their time to strike back at the Outlanders. Hopefully this time around Goddess willing, they would finally break through the enemy lines.
Lustria, IC 2532
A great bustle of activity filled the streets of Pahuax for word had now spread to its cold blooded inhabitants that He That Hunts Unseen had called for an expedition to the north. Pouring out from the barrios and favelas by the thousands were a great many skinks bearing weapons and shields while others carried provisions which an army on the march would need. The ground trembled as a great many number of Sauruses marched in ordered ranks alongside numerous great beasts and the skies were filled with the shrill cries of terradons and ripperdactyls that gathered for the coming war.
Mustering near the center of the Temple City, beneath a banner depicting a golden serpent devouring its tail with a plain brown background was the Skink Chief, Tlatuahka who was handed a small ceramic jar from a skink craftsman, its clay lid was adorned with the design of a frog which indicated the kind of poison it contained. Gathered around him were a great number of other Skinks, most which were armed with blowpipes, hand weapons, javelins, shields and more than a few also brought bows which had only recently begun to see use once more among the cohorts. Bestial cries could also be heard as numerous Cold Ones had gathered beneath the same banner as well, each one mounted not by a Saurus but instead by a Great Crested Skink whose bodies were larger and stronger than their common kin with each one carrying a hand weapon, shield and cavalry spear that was well suited for the charge.
Other banners had also been placed here and there around the center of the city where the other hosts gathered, each one now surrounded by hundreds of warriors as well as their gathering baggage trains. A great roar came from one of the hosts where a Saurus Oldblood mounted on the back of Carnosaur reined in the deadly beast as another Carnosaur being ridden by a Scar Veteran came close by, the two creatures looked ready to fight one another but thankfully their riders were able to calm the beasts. In another host, Tlatuahka saw a Red Crested Skink Chief mounted on the back of an Ancient Stegadon and shouting out sermons in the name of Sotek which in turn whipped a crowd of Skinks and Sauruses into a frenzy as they raised their weapons and gave voice to blood thirsty war cries.
Large numbers of warmblooded Man-Spawn slaves were also brought forth to support the armies of the Lizardmen by serving as pack laborers or as battle fodder. These particular human slaves had their fur shaved, their brains partially lobotomized and their reproductive organs removed to make them compliant enough to be of use to the Lustrians to the point that they could be trusted to fight if need be. Many of these thralls had been taken from the Man-Spawn settlements that once infested Lustria's coasts, their numbers had significantly been bolstered after the failed invasion of The Empire tribe as well as Oxyotl's incursions into the edges of the Chaos Wastes north of Naggaroth.
As the armies of the Temple City gathered, Skink messengers went about distributing communiques inscribed on sheafs of amate to the war leaders who in turn began barking out orders to their troops and soon the legions began making their way to the gates of the city. The pale form of a Troglodon was then seen by Tlatuahka who noticed the familiar figure of the Oracle of the Sacred Plaques riding upon it and immediately he began hissing orders to his fellow Skinks. Crawling next to the massive albino creature was He That Hunts Unseen, Oxyotl who merely raised his clawed left hand and began making a series of silent hand gestures which signaled his host to head out.
No songs were sung nor were orders needed to shouted by the Skink officers for with well trained precision and discipline did the legion of Oxyotl, the true Ghosts of Pahuax march towards the gates of city where the other armies were also mustering towards. Traveling without incident towards the gates, Tlatuahka felt a shiver down his spine as the air became charged with magic both from The Winds itself to the Geomantic Web of which was transferred to one of the many floating ziggurats that hovered above the city upon a pillar of light. This particular ziggurat then began moving towards the plaza behind the main gate of Pahuax and from the bottom of the structure it generated a shaft of light that transformed into a shimmering disc, a portal that would lead into the Paths of the Old Ones.
He That Hunts Unseen then gestured for all to enter and soon the Lizardmen armies marched as one into the shimmering portal.
Naggaroth, IC 2532
The Sea of Chill roared its fury upon the Tower of Despair, freezing tides smashed against the breakwaters that protected its docks where statues carved in the likeness of laboring slaves blunted the wrath of the sea. No ships entered or exited the port city at this time when Mathlann's wroth, its inhabitants remained indoors and close to whatever sources of warmth they possessed but not so those of its garrison who were on duty.
Upon the ramparts the protected the city itself, patrols of Asur Citizen-Levy huddled around an enchanted obelisk that was as tall as an ogre, its surface gleamed with the bright fiery runes of Aqshy. Standing next to the obelisk with hands upon its surface was a Mage of Saphery named Harrond who whispered words of power to bind the Wind of Fire into the stone structure and replenishing the magic within. Unlike the guards around him who were appropriately dressed for the frigid weather, the Mage was dressed in the white and blue robes that was expected of one of his position while enchanted pieces of jewelry he created himself provided all the warmth he needed.
The spearmen and archers that gathered around the obelisk merely offered silent gestures of appreciation towards the Mage for without his services, many among them would likely be suffering from frostbite come the next morning. Once he was done, he merely gave a nod to the common soldiery before heading off to the next obelisk for there were a great many scattered across the Slaver's Gate, each one attended to by fellow mages. While there were some who believed that it would be a waste to use Mages to help ward off the worst of the frozen weather, Harrond knew better for it had been the Shadow King's intention to have those with Spirit Sight aid in patrolling Naggaroth's streets.
Like in many of the Black Cities that had once been ruled by the Druchii, a great number of Dark Elves still lived within its walls, its inhabitants cowed into submission by the brutal rule of Alith Anar. More than once have the Asur had to deal with secretive gatherings of insurrectionists as well as the activities of dark cults that still clung to the wanton worship of the Cytharai or more darkly were devotees in league with the powers of Chaos. The bodies of many of these renegades now adorned the walls of Naggaroth's cities just like what had once happened at Griffon Pass and it was also not unusual for Nehekharan Liche Priests to also be employed in ensuring that not even death would be an escape for them.
As he made his way towards the next the obelisk, the Aethyric senses of the Mage detected something of great power within the distance and he stopped for moment to look to the sea which he was certain was the direction which if came from. Closing his eyes and switching to the use of Spirit Sight, he began searching at first the depths below where many dark things lurked but found that it was not there so instead he searched above where soon enough he could begin to pinpoint its presence. Within his mind's eye he saw the form of many great floating stone pyramids, ziggurats he recognized bearing the architecture of the Lustrians kept aloft by the ancient magics of the Old Ones.
Counting four of the flying structures, Harrond immediately recognized one of the Ziggurats of which was the largest for it was one had seen in the skies of Lustria during the war for the Great Vortex. Switching back to his mortal sight, the Mage quickly turned around and headed back to the obelisk which he had re-enchanted earlier and the soldiers who were still gathered around it gave him curious looks as they saw him once more.
'Raise the alarm and send word to Prince Eltharion!' called Harrond to the Asur soldiers. 'A great host of Lustrians are coming across the waves!'
At once the Citizen Levy troops dispersed as they quickly went about towards the other guards posts to raise the alarm while one of them a bright feather helmed Archer whose uniform marked him as a regimental Hawkeye quickly drew an arrow from his quiver and he placed it by the strong of his longbow. Raising his bow up, he whispered an arcane word of power that caused the arrow to begin glowing with a bright red light and he loosed into the sky above. As the arrow ascended higher and reached its zenith, it began to glow ever brighter until it became a miniature star which would alert the rest of the city.
Despite the tenuous peace that had been established between the Asur and the Lizardmen, there was still a great deal of tension between them for it was known to the High Elves that many among the ruling caste of the reptiles, the Slann were greatly displeased by the way things ended in the war for the Great Vortex and that despite the agreements of peace with the Prophet Tehenauin, they could command the entirety of the Lustria to war if they desired it. Already he knew that these Ziggurats flew the banner of the reptilian warlord known as Nakai the Wanderer who had also been known by others as The Spirit of the Jungle.
During the war, Harrond had served under Prince Teclis and the Order of the Loremasters where they had found reason to make common cause with the Lustrians early on. He had witnessed firsthand the sheer carnage which the Wanderer had wrought upon armies of Skaven, Undead Pirates, Druchii and Greenskins while also seeing the bloody aftermaths of their battles with The Empire. He had been thankful back then that by the time the war to control the Great Vortex had reached a point where no alliances between the Asur or the Lizardmen could exist, the Spirit of the Jungle had been fully committed in exterminating all of the human colonies.
Should the Lustrians have come to wage war then he was not sure if even the sturdy walls that protected the city of Karond Kar would be enough to withstand the wrath of Nakai the Wanderer.
Kalimdor, 20 years after the Opening of the Dark Portal
Dark words and dark magiks were channeled by the Necrolyte that had agreed to attend to the corpse which Reshtar had brought into the Temple of the Damned and the Blood Guard watched in fascination as the spell was cast. Tenebrous tendrils of entropic sorcery emanated from the hands of the hooded orc who chanted the arcane syllables which allowed him to reach into the beyond and bind the spirit of the dead creature that lay before them. Such sight of sorcery was enough to fill the Blood Guard with some sense of jealousy for there had been a time once where he had desired to learn the deep mysteries which the Shadowmoon Clan prized but had bitterly found that he simply had not aptitude for magic.
Cold air filled the underground chamber beneath the skeletal structure where sorcerous lights glowed from countless gleaming runes carved upon the walls. Power filled this place, a deathly chill ran down the spine of the Blood Guard who could see his breath with every exhale and he swore that at the edge of his hearing he could hear voices whispering. On one end of the room was stone desk with scrolls and tomes laid upon it, to his left was a large wooden container, a coffin he believed it was called which contained the bones of a long dead human and to the right was a simple wooden doorway which led to a storage room filled with magical reagents.
The shadowy tendrils that surrounded the hands of the Necrolyte then began to move towards the corpse of the "Orc" and in reached into the eyes, mouth and ears of the dead thing. Soon its body began to twitch as un-life was breathed into its form and immediately the body sat up to regard Reshtar an eerie silence that he had long grown accustomed to, its eyes now glowed with a cold blue light.
'Ask it whatever you wish' growled the Necrolyte and the Blood Guard nodded to the spell caster before looking to the undead creature.
'Who and what are you?' questioned Reshtar and the creature growled in a foreign tongue that he did not understand, its dead voice was filled with grunting sounds that he could not make out. Looking to the Necrolyte with some confusion, the spell caster began whispering and weaving more magik into the carcass and soon it replied once more.
'Bartorg...' responded the creature as it kept its gaze upon Resthar. 'Orc'
'You are an Orc?' questioned the Blood Guard with some puzzlement for he still found the creature to look like an uncanny parody of an Orc with animalistic features.
'Orc' responded the corpse with finality and Reshtar decided to switch to different line of questions.
'What clan do you hail from? What killed you?' then asked the Blood Guard.
'Clan... Clan...' answered the corpse with a noticeable tone of unfamiliarity in its voice as if tried to find the right words on what to say. 'Clan... Waaagh, Waaagh Krikzuz, Chainz Broken...'
Having never heard of clan with such a name nor any understanding of what else the creature was saying Reshtar gave the creature a moment to further speak.
'Pointy eadz...' continued undead thing. 'Pointy eadz kill Bartorg, krump tribe...'
'Who are the pointy heads you speak of?' asked Reshtar who began to feel his patience wearing thin for it was as if he were trying to question an Ogre.
'Pointy eadz...' answered Bartorg. 'sneaky dead killy pointy heads...'
Muttering a curse, the Blood Guard doubted there was more this creature would tell him about who or what the pointy heads were but if he had to guess judging by the state of the camp he had found the corpse, they were very good at launching ambushes. He wondered if perhaps the humans or dwarfs they had slaughtered would have anything to do with these pointy heads but now that he thought about it, their heads were round just like the ones here in Azeroth. Perhaps a type of helmet he wondered or that these pointy heads really did possess skulls with a pointy shape? Having seen the bones and skulls of countless Draenei in the past, he would not find such a thing unusual.
'Are there others of your kind?' then asked Reshtar.
'Many boyz in cold lands... many pointy eadz...' replied the corpse. 'Cold land iz pointy eadz land...'
Taking a moment to process what the dead creature just said Resthar believed that it meant that whoever these pointy heads were, they were the dominant beings of the other world's land. If that was the case he thought then The Horde should take greater care of the security around the newly opened portal.
'We are done here' then announced the veteran warrior towards the Necrolyte and the hooded mystic began to whisper another word of power which caused the magik that surrounded him to die down and the corpse collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut. Giving a quiet nod to the Necrolyte who bowed his head in quiet obedience, the Orcish officer already was planning on how he could best set up defenses around the rift to make sure that they received no unwanted visitors.
Elsewhere, IC 2532
Darkness surrounded the armies of Pahuax as they now stood within a vast chamber of ancient stone carved with familiar runes while a malign dread power was felt by all and many clutched their weapons more tightly. The Oracle of the Sacred Plaques reached for a small leather pouch that rested by his left hip and the Skink magician drew forth a handful of glittering sand, each grain bearing an enchantment. Hissing words of power, The Oracle then cast the sand over the crests of those below him and the magic contained transmuted the sand into bright glass that did not fall to the ground, rather it floated upwards above.
Forming into a dazzling cloud of bright multi colored hues, the display of shifting lights reminded some of the auroras that could be found in the sky above the lands where the Winds of Magic blew freely. The cloud then transformed then began to expand and lengthen into long slithering tendrils that resembled the movements of a snake, each one a guide for the Lizardmen armies through the runic stone tunnels. One of the Saurus Oldbloods then barked an order to his legion and his forces began marching towards one pathway while the others began to disperse to follow the others.
Soon there were thousands of scaled feet that moved through the ancient stone corridors as the great beasts which accompanied them trudged along while the aerial creatures such as the Terradons and Ripperdactyls were forced to land and crawl along. Tenseness filled the Lizardmen forces as weapons were kept at the ready for all of them knew that the Paths of the Old Ones had long ago become infested with the dark powers of Chaos. This knowledge speeded up their march as they traversed through the great pathways which were large enough to accommodate the armies and the greats beasts that followed them.
In recent years, the Children of the Ones had used these ancient pathways to travel across the World Pond to place like the mist shrouded isle of Albion where they had fought many great battles against and had later established the city of Konquata. During the last great war, it had been used extensively by the He That Hunts Unseen to strike at the followers of Chaos along with those others which were deemed a threat to the Great Plan. Now there were many new exits that had been established by the Ghost of Pahuax whose Silent Sanctums extended from Lustria itself to the Naggaroth, the Southlands, Albion and even the many lands ruled over by Man-Spawn.
For the legion under the command of Oxyotl himself, He That Hunts Unseen led the way without need for one of guiding tendrils of magical light for these were paths he and many of his braves were already familiar with. Quietly moving through the tunnels with only their beasts making any noise, the army of assorted Skinks remained wary of any threats but thankfully they found no trouble along the way and soon enough they arrived at their destination. Having marched for what was to the Lizardmen merely an hour, they had crossed vast distances that would have taken them either weeks to months had they conventionally attempted to walk from Lustria to Naggaroth.
Now they stood before a great runic archway where the the carved stone faces of dozens of Slann looked down upon them with eyes glittering through the gems placed into their hollow sockets. The Oracle of the Sacred Plaques along with a Skink Priest named Hex-xl stepped forward and began chanting words of power which caused the eyes of the Slann statues to begin glowing with a bright light that extended to the runes along the archway which then began to spark with light. Soon another gleaming portal appeared before the Skink army and a sudden blast of freezing air washed over them.
Many of the Skinks carried with them assorted potions, elixirs and other alchemical mixtures which had been prepared for this expedition and they imbibed the contents to help protect them from the cold. As soon as all were ready, He That Hunts Unseen signaled for them to enter and they obeyed without question where soon they found themselves once more in the frigid lands of Naggaroth where they were surrounded by a dark forest. Once the last of the Skinks and their warbeasts had returned to the physical world, the way behind them was closed by the Oracle and the Priest to ensure that no unwanted things escaped from the Paths of the Old Ones.
Taking a moment to survey their surroundings, the Skinks began forming up into their groups with the Chameleons among them already shifting the hues of their scales to begin mimicking the forest. Now it was time to begin the search and discover the source of the darkness that now threatened their world.
Frigid air touched the tongue of Tlahtuaka as he tasted the smells of the forest around them and he found it to be far more muted and dead compared to the vibrancy life within the jungles. A faint salty taste could also be found in the air, indicating that the World Pond was not far away. He That Hunts Unseen roved ahead along with numerous cohorts of Chameleon Skinks while rest the more common Skinks followed after them in a more tightly organized formation.
Currently, the host maintained only a few of Lustria's mighty beasts which came in the form of a pair of Ancient Stegadons, a trio of Bastiladons with two carrying Solar Engines while the third carried a magical crystal which bore powerful enchantments of healing and of course the Troglodon which the Oracle rode upon. There were also Terradons and Ripperdactyls that now took to the air, their presence would likely draw the attention of others to the Lizardmen host but having eyes in the sky was enough to outweigh the risks while Cold Ones mounted by Great Crested Skinks strode to the flanks of the army. Leading his fellow Skinks, Tlahtuaka traveled on foot with a macuahuitl in one hand, a blowpipe in the other while along his left hip was with a dagger which had served him well in battle, hunting and in making sacrifices to the Old Ones.
The Chameleon Skinks vanguard that traveled ahead left not a single footprint upon the cold ground but instead they carefully left scent trails which the Skinks followed by tasting the air. Trees crashed to ground and splintered in the wake of the monstrous beasts that accompanied the army while Man-Spawn slaves carrying heavy packs filled with supplies began picking up what pieces of timber they could for it would be needed when night came. A cry then came from one of the Terradon riders above, the Skink mounted upon the winged creature pointed towards a direction which those below saw and their pace quickened.
A faint corruptive influence could be sensed by the Skink Chief along with his kin, its source emanated from the direction they were heading towards and bit by bit it grew stronger. Soon there was another scent in the air, one of death which He That Hunts Unseen directed them towards where eventually they came upon a series of crude fur tents where the bodies of greenskins lay scattered about. Black feathered birds and lupines feasted upon the carcasses with the warm-blooded creatures pausing to regard the Skinks for a moment to before scampering off into the wilds.
Moving ahead past his fellow Skinks, Tlahtuaka immediately then caught up with the Chameleons who were now beginning to spread out to search the camp while Oxyotl cautiously headed towards the center of alone. He That Hunts Unseen then stopped for a moment and looked back to the Skink Chief to whom he gestured to hold position which Tlahtuaka obeyed and before long he began to feel a presence of magic in the air. The air shimmered before the form of Oxyotl which then transformed into an umbral cloud of pure gloom that set the instincts of the Skinks on edge.
A shape then began to form within the darkness and it coalesced into a single tall, slender figure with the profile of an Elf-Spawn who then came into full view of the Lizardmen. Looking to He That Hunts Unseen, the ancient Chameleon Skink then bowed his crested head in respect for this bore a scent that was familiar to the Ghosts of Pahuax who recognized a fellow hunter of the dark powers. Bearing pale skin, a mane black fur, silvery armored adorned with gilded crescent moons and a bow imbued with powerful divine magic, this Elf-Spawn was known to the Lizardmen as the leader of the tribe of Nagarythe and the ruler of these lands, Alith Anar, the Shadow King.
Quiet song-like words were spoken by the Shadow King towards He That Hunts Unseen and Oxyotl then looked towards his army and called for the Skink Priest, Hex-xl to come forward. The Skink Priest obeyed and immediately headed towards the two leaders and he began speaking to the warm-blooded leader in the language of the Elf-Spawn. While this exchange happened, Tlahtuaka kept his senses alert to see if there were any other Elf-Spawn in the area for during the last great war, the tribe of Nagarythe had on numerous occasions engaged in deadly ambushes against many foes which both they and the Ghosts of Pahuax shared in these cold lands.
During the war, Tlahtuaka remembered how on one instance, both forces had participated in a series of guerilla attacks against the Rat-Spawn whose loathsome empire had invested a great number of legions to invade the lands of Naggaroth. Through the use of surgical strikes, feints and other cunning methods, they had whittled away at the Skaven and broken the back of the invasion force with many Rat-Spawn captives being dragged off to feed the hunger of Sotek. Even after the unfortunate victory of the Elf-Spawn over the Great Vortex, the tribe of Nagarythe did not engage in hostile actions against the Ghosts of Pahuax and forces had merely hunted many mutual foes separately such as the Elf-Spawn followers of the Pleasure God and the barbarian tribes of the Hung.
The Skink Priest Hex-xl then turned towards the army of the Skinks and began bellowing to them all.
'The appearance of Elf-Spawn has been forseen!' called Hex-Xl who raised his staff high and began shaking the magical bone talismans that dangled from thin ropes around the head. 'He That Hunts Unseen proclaims that together we hunt the darkness!'
In response the Ghosts of Pahuax raised their weapons high with shrilling cries. Despite the disagreements and differences which both races held in recent years, for now they were united in purpose to uphold Order and defend the world as a whole.