Chapter Sixty Nine

Northward and Westward

Lucius sighed as he exited the Fel portal to the Arathi Highlands, looking slowly over the rolling hills and distant mountains.

Nobu'tan had suggested that before they moved all their forces up to attack the ruined fortress, that one of the Council of the Black Harvest scout out the future battlefield and take account of the current conditions of the area, just in case there were any potential conditions that may affect their siege.

Personally, Lucius did not think that there would be anything that could impact their strategy, especially as they did not have any need of siege weaponry or other massive equipment that were affected by weather or other conditions. However, with so many subverted forces lying in wait inside the fortress already, it would be somewhat simple to march in and take control of the main keep.

Aside from the human syndicate, which were the only forces that they had no chance of turning to their side, there was a group of Boulderfist Ogres, which Teg'Ramm had plans for, as well as Witherbark trolls that had already pledged their services to the Horde. The final section was the human remnant of the original inhabitants, which would clearly not take kindly to the new occupation of their former capital city.

Still, with their additional Stormreaver forces they had more than enough manpower to take control of the entire city and fortify the crumbling walls. Lucius strode forward, in human form, alongside several of the Horde's troll trackers to the entrance of the city.

The trolls and ogres had cleared the entranceway of the city, and met with them, the Boulderfist looking skeptical of Lucius, but the Witherbark trolls spoke amiably with the Smolderthorn allies.

Lucius chose to say nothing, not needing to actually speak with the leaders of either group of the city, trusting that their allies had taken care of everything. Casually muttering the words of an incantation, he conjured an messenger eye and sent it back to the south, ready to relay that Nobu'tan can send forth their forces to take the city.

"Inform them that the battle will begin shortly, and we will expect their warriors to be ready for our arrival." Lucius said to his translator, who nodded as Lucius turned back to the wide bridge of land that led from the city entrance.

The main cause of concern that their plans had was in regard to this strip of land, the only means of easily approaching and entering the city. While it would be simple enough to just portal directly into the fortress, the largest amount of Witherbark and Boulderfists lay in forests and mounds out in the plains, and in order to unite the forces and attack as once they needed to meet outside of the fortress and march in together.

The problem lay in maintaining this ridge of rock. While the entrance itself was under their control, through the other factions that they had recruited in secret, the fortifications were still in the hands of the humans of the former nation, and they would see them coming and try to prevent their entry from the walls and overlooks of the main causeway of the fortress.

In the end, Lucius decided on doing nothing out of their original plan. If something occurred, they would deal with it, and the initial plan was to send in their allies first, so that their own forces were not whittled down by the defenders before they had the chance to fight back.

Moving back to the camp of their scouts, Lucius started running through what would be needed of him specifically for the battle. He doubted that Nobu'tan would demand too much of him, but there was always the chance of everything going pear-shaped, and only the wizards would be able to apparate around the battlefield quickly enough to relay orders and take out major targets.

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Sylvanas knew she had wanted the Death Knight prisoner to stew for a time before she finally decided what would be done with him, but the threat that Arthas posed was too great for her to risk anything important going unknown was simply too great, so she was going to jump to the most drastic method of getting what the figure knew from him, as well as gaining a powerful servant of her own in the process.

Taking only her most trusted banshee, Sharlindra, Sylvanas traveled down to the secret prisons of the Undercity, to visit with their prisoner, who had accoprding to Varimathris said nothing nor indicated that pain even was effective upon him.

"Well, well, comfortable are we?" she said as the entered the room with the prisoner's cage. While the figure looked at them, he still stubbornly refused to speak.

With a flash of eerie green light, the Dreadlord appeared at the side of the Banshee Queen, "My Lady, I highly advise against this, there is no telling what may happen…"

"My reasons are well known to you, Varimathris," Sylvanas said irritably, waving off his concern and turning to Sharlindra, "do it," she commanded, and the banshee approached their victim, and soon-to-be asset.

Utilizing the power of their creation, the banshee sacrificed her spectral form, changing forever into an unseeable force, and entering the rotting corpse of their enemy, who began to thrash and scream at the violent intrusion attempting to merge into his body and spirit, and warp them both to the loyalty of the Banshee Queen.

Many times had Sylvanas watched this process, but never had one reacted so violently and with such power. She assumed that it was the pulling away control of the Lich King from this pawn, but even the ground started to shake with the suppressed magical energy that was released.

In the chamber behind them, something was rattling and fell from the examination tables, but Sylvanas' eyes were fixed upon the form before her in the cage, whose eyes were glowing magnificently with red and blue lights, as though his very magical makeup was shifting with the intrusion of another soul vying to take command of his body.

Finally with a howl of pure torment that was little more than music to the Banshee Queen's ears, the prisoner went slack, collapsing to the bottom of the cage and lying still.

"Sharlindra?" Sylvanas asked, stepping closer to the cage.

The figure stirred, opening eyes that reflected the blue chill of the grave, "Yes, my Lady?"

"What did he know?" the Banshee Queen of the Forsaken demanded of her most trusted servant, "What is that bastard, Arthas, planning?"

"We've made a mistake, my Queen," Sharlindra replied, the gravelly voice of the Death Knight sounding odd and unfamiliar to be speaking, "this one was no servant of the Lich King, but of another…"

"What? How can that be?" Varimathris questioned, stepping forward himself and unlocking the cage for the possessed Death Knight to exit.

"This one serves a warlock to the south, who goes by many names, some foreign and strange to me, but one that rings true being Nobu'tan…" Sharlindra reported, the eyes of the rotting corpse shifting as the Banshee sorted through the memories, "this one's will is strong, he still fights me, even after I've wrested control."

"Curious…" Sylvanas said, her mind drifting. A Death Knight, now loyal to her through Sharlindra, bound to a warlock master rather than the Lich King, a warlock that she guessed had something to do with the Horde's investigation of Blackrock Mountain.

"This could work out to our favor…" she said after a moment, her eyes landing on the jeweled scepter in the other room, which had fallen to the ground and whose blood-red gem was gleaming with power.

"How so, my Lady?" the banshee asked, even as the Dreadlord started to nod in agreement.

"We can use this Death Knight to gain vital information for the Warchief, thus increasing our importance to the Horde as a faction," Sylvanas explained, taking up the soul gem inlaid scepter and inspecting it closely. "So long as we're careful, there is nothing that we need to fear of this other, new faction to the south."

"A brilliant strategy, my Lady," Varimathris stated, but Sylvanas knew that the Dreadlord was eager to learn more of these warlocks for his own reasons, and thus said nothing. If they were powerful enough to create more undead that had their wills, perhaps she might be able to glean information on how to create more Forsaken, and keep their population from dwindling.

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Narcissa was the first to recover from the King's arrival, "Your Majesty," she said, curtseying appropriately, quickly followed by both her son and Pansy in greeting Varian Wrynn.

"Ah, Lady Malfoy, a pleasure to see you here once more, visiting my son," the King said, glancing over the others, "Lady Prestor mentioned that you had become something of a motherly figure to Anduin as of late, prior to my return. I am pleased that someone of the nobility took such an interest in making sure that Anduin had the advise that he needed to grow into such a wise and intelligent young man."

"The pleasure was mine, I assure you your Majesty," Narcissa continued, being completely honest with herself and the King. "Anduin is a fine and upstanding young man, and it was refreshing in my loneliness to have someone who reminded me so strongly of my own son, Draco, now grown and without too much need of his mother." She added, teasing her son as she introduced him to the King.

"Your Majesty," Draco said smoothly, bowing once more as Varian's eyes trained upon him.

"Ah," the King said, looking him up and down, "I ought to have recognized the family resemblance, a fine upstanding son of a noble family, and a mage as well I presume?" he asked, taking note of the robes that Draco wore.

"Yes, your Majesty," Draco affirmed, not caring to correct him on the matter that would lead to suspicion.

Pansy stepped forward, curtsying once more as well, "Pansy Parkinson, your Majesty, fiancé of Draco." The girl was clearly self-conscious of her apparel for meeting with the King of Stormwind, and Narcissa could tell that Varian noticed this just as readily.

"A beautiful young woman need not care for what her apparel tells others of her," the King wisely said, taking her hand and gently pressing his lips to the back of it in greeting, "Especially when her radiance and youthful beauty shine forth regardless of working dress or regal gown."

Pansy flushed once more, giggling slightly at the compliments, and thanked the King, moving out of his way as he entered the room fully, "Anduin I suppose you would wish to postpone your visit to the outlying villages with me then, I can delay them for a while, if you'd prefer to visit a bit longer."

"Not too much longer, but yes, thank you father," Anduin said cheerily, and Varian smiled indulgently at his son, before nodding to the rest and backing out of the room, closing the door behind him. Narcissa was grateful that the King seemed to dote upon his only son, but the moment that they had had previously was lost. Anduin would be less willing to speak thinking that his father would return soon.

At the least, the interruption dissuaded the boy from further questions regarding where Draco had been, and the falsified story that they had created remained safe once again.

"I'm still not completely convinced that he is my father," Anduin said suddenly, startling Narcissa, "there are times where I can tell he is like himself, but whenever Lady Prestor is around, he changes, cares less for the people, and is easier swayed by her advice…"

Draco stepped forward, kneeling to be nearer the same height as the young prince, "My Prince," he said, taking the boy's hands in his own, "I know a thing about fathers. Regardless of what that man may be, or pretending to be, I can sense that he cares deeply for you. And whatever spell, enchantment or rouse he is under, his love for you is genuine."

Standing there in amazement of her son, Narcissa noted the flashes of light in Draco's eyes, signaling that he had indeed used subtle traces of the Fel to determine this of the King.

"Your presence clears his head and commands his loyalty, even over whatever else. Do not give up reaching him, no matter the cost. I can sense that something is afoot here, and we will get to the bottom of it, together." Draco said, rising to his feet once more and turning to Narcissa, "Send word back, I will not return until I am satisfied that this matter is concluded. Father will see that it reaches the right people."

"I accept your vow," Anduin replied, and despite his ten-year-old frame the boy drew himself up in a proper regal demeanor, "and as Prince of Stormwind, I name you my advisor and tutor, Draco Malfoy, in order to permit you access to the Keep and whatsoever private affair or meeting that I would attend, you are to be my extra eyes and ears in the city, and obey my commands alone."

"I humble accept this charge, my Prince, and will serve you faithfully until the end, or my discharge by your word only." Draco replied with equal solemnity.

Narcissa watched proudly, even as an alliance was formed between their house and the future royal of Stormwind. While she had commanded a sense of respect based off her poise and demeanor, technically she could have been removed from the Keep at any time by the will of Lady Prestor, but now, her son was officially a member of the Royal house, and could not be sent away without direct orders from the Prince, which removed that threat for them to be present for the business of the Keep.

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Nobu'tan glared across the ugly green landscape of the Arathi Highlands.

Perhaps he was just growing accustomed to blackened lands of the Burning Steppes, or else it was the Fel power running through him that gave him a healthy distaste of all that was green and growing, but regardless of it he hoped that a touch of the Fel would change this land to something more befitting the fortress that the Stormreavers were about to claim for the true Horde.

Still, turning his attention away from the rolling hills and green plains, Nobu'tan set his sights on the near ruined fortress of Strongarde, even as his forces poured out of the Fel portals that he himself had conjured.

Orcs, Trolls, Ogres, Centaur, Veela, all poured forth to answer his call to battle here. Granted, the grand warlock of the Horde felt that this would be a small skirmish at best, but it was better to come in great numbers and overwhelm his opponent than to underestimate them completely.

In addition, the Witherbark Trolls and the Boulderfist Ogres would see the power of their new alliance, and think twice before committing treachery against the might of the Horde. Their leaders had already spoken to the puppet Warchief, Nek'rosh Skullcrusher, and formally allied their peoples with them, and were more than ready to commit top taking the fortress for their own.

"Everything is in place, Warchief…?" he asked, turning to Nek'rosh, who looked for all his part the grisly commander of armies that he was supposed to play.

"Yes," the orc replied, overseeing the final forces marshalling into place before the fortress.

"Begin…" Nobu'tan commanded, and the Dragonmaw orc raised his hefty greataxe overhead, bellowing a war cry to signal the advance.

The orcs screamed their fury in response, surging forward alongside their troll and ogre allies, but those of the Stormreaver Clan held back, waiting in reserve as they had planned, just in case of some unforeseen event that might put their plans in danger.

Human archers appeared on the ramparts, bearing the crimson fist banner of the former human nation, firing their projectiles down at the advancing warriors, even as small blasts of fire launched from the rear of the keep, where Nobu'tan knew that the syndicate held the central keep.

The humans had technology something similar to that of the nonmagical humans of his homeworld, but rudimentary and hardly a greater threat than the manpower he had assembled.

Even as the humans made their brash attempt to defend their once prominent fortress city, Nobu'tan watched eagerly as the forces of the Horde stormed across the narrow causeway of rock and into the fortress properly.

If the humans had thought that the other warring factions of trolls and ogres within would aid in their mutual attackers, Nobu'tan hoped that they were currently shaking in their boots as his forces were admitted freely into their fortress, storming up the main causeway and splintering off to deal with the only two forces of concern, the Syndicate and themselves.

Still, there would be complications once the leaders of either faction joined the battle. Moral had been a hard won concept with the mix of races. Too many losses from any of them could tip the balance of their loyalty, especially if none of their own leadership took to the field.

Therefore, he would be taking to the field as soon as the keep itself was breached, apparating directly into the building and assassinating the leadership of the syndicate. A flotilla of eyes were summoned, in order to invisibly watch for this event, even as countless human bandits flooded out of the keep to prevent his armies from entering, but the sheer strength disparity of humans to the other races assembled to war would prove the victor in due time.

Meanwhile, Nobu'tan grew bored waiting for his troops to breach the Syndicate's fortification, and so started looking toward the Stromgarde remnant. The archers had long since retreated, but it was easy to tell that where the formerly powerful human nation had fled to.

"Come, while our forces rout the Syndicate, we will destroy the last vestiges of the original inhabitants of this place." Nobu'tan announced, indicating where they were to go on the walls.

Short range apparition was something from his old world that Nobu'tan had actually felt useful enough to learn, even if it required that Lucius taught him the principles as the professor of Hogwarts had not found it fit to grant that information to anyone under their preconceived notions of age of majority, but it was no matter. Turning on the spot, Nobu'tan teleported to the top of the walls, accompanied by a loud cracking sound. He was followed immediately by those earth-trained warlocks who had accompanied him to the battle: Lucius, Urnar the goblin, Yaxley, Crabbe, Goyle, as well as their sons Vincent and Gregory.

Eight warlocks against the remnant of an entire nation, Nobu'tan like those odds. Even as they ran along the walls toward the open bridge that crossed the main causeway into the city, Nobu'tan sensed that his enemies were beginning to lose their will to continue the fight.

That was until he saw the flash of drawn swords and the gleam of helmets across the bridge. Grabbing Lucius as the man came to a halt next to him, Nobu'tan threw them both back into alcoves as the thunder of hooves on stone filled their ears.

"For Stromgarde! For the Alliance!" roared the human defenders, who barreled past them on horseback, clearly hoping to catch the invading force off guard and split their ranks in the unexpected cavalry charge.

"Enough of these pointless games," Nobu'tan hissed, feeling the need to do something powerful and perhaps a bit reckless. Before anyone had a chance to stop him, Nobu'tan channeled Fel fire through his limbs, rocketing himself into the air. Long had he practiced this skill in secret, hoping to use it at a moment where it would be of greatest advantage, but he needed to the ability to see the majority of the battlefield in order to thoroughly rout his enemies now.

Even as the fortress fell away beneath him, he turned to face it, allowing the powers of the Twisted Nether to flow through him. Infernal clouds gathered, unleashed the Fel meteorites down on the ranks of advancing horsemen, shattering their line and throwing many of their warriors from the saddle.

Let the fools fight his demonic allies, Nobu'tan thought, sneering at them contemptuously, he had far greater things in store now. Opening a powerful portal into the Nether, Nobu'tan brought forth Fel Bats, the winged creatures of the Legion, to do his bidding and swoop down on his foes, shrieking and clawing as they went.

The other warlocks had continued to their destination, and were fighting on the grounds of the Stromgarde defender's base, demons surging forth from their own portals to challenge the footmen and riflemen of the humans, and some dwarven allies Nobu'tan noted.

The dwarves seemed to be a never-ending source of irritation for him, and in his Fel-powered rage he thought briefly of how he would like to see their mountains burning. But he controlled himself, focusing on the here and now rather than the glorious future when he ruled these Eastern Kingdoms alone.

Gathering powerful chaotic magic, he hurtled down back to the battlefield, looking for all outsiders as another shard of Fel stone plummeting to the earth. Allowing the magic to envelope his body, Nobu'tan transformed into his demonic form, landing among the riflemen and their allies, wings spreading out to protect him from the hasty barrage of bullets that came flying at him from all sides.

"You have stood in my way long enough!" Nobu'tan bellowed, Fel fire launching out to scorch and destroy many of his foes, "This fortress is mine!" he roared, even as footmen charged him, swords drawn and ready to do what they could to hinder him.

Claws sweeping in front of him, he knocked weapons away, and cut deep grooves in plated armor, even as men and dwarves were sent flying from his power. Reaching into his strength of the Fel, Nobu'tan drained the life force of every nearby enemy combatant, watching them scream and fall to the ground, withering before his eyes.

A man screamed a furious battlecry, and Nobu'tan staggered as a sudden blow sent him reeling. The weapon burned as it bit into his Fel-infused flesh, and Nobu'tan wondered at the power that such a weapon held.

"To Trollbane! To the King!" the human warriors shouted, rallying around whom must have been their leader.

"You will not win this day, monster!" the King stated, and even though he was a younger man, closer to Nobu'tan own age rather than what he would have envisioned of a king, the man stood calmly, allowing ration and steel determination guide his action. "This place will never be yours, not so long as a single one of us draws breath to fight against you for it. You may have forced me to unearth my father's sword, but I will see it returned to his tomb, alongside your pitch-black heart! For Stromgarde!" the man continued, whipping his men into a frenzy of zeal for their fallen country, even as the king advanced on Nobu'tan and the line of demons that were surging from his allies to aid him.

Dragging a claw through the air, Nobu'tan channeled the Fel into a usable blade, pulling the sword from the void with a flourish of the violently green blade of fire, ready to do battle with King Trollbane on his terms.

Even as the demons slammed into the remaining forces of Stromgarde, Nobu'tan leapt the rest of the feet separating him and the king, bearing down on the smaller figure and raining heavy blows with the sword of Fel-fire.

Surprisingly, whatever latent magic was in the king's sword allowed it to fight and block Nobu'tan's chaotic blade of the Fel, although the warlock noted that the metal weapon did start to glow red in places after a few exchanges.

Using this fact to his advantage, so pressed the attack, forcing the human to block and dodge at every opportunity, and preventing the king from lashing back more than a few times, which strikes were either parried or blocked by the massive wings that Nobu'tan's form provided.

Even as he fought, Nobu'tan spotted eyes of Kil'rogg spiriting toward him, which was the signal that the keep had been breached, and he had to make his way there to remove the head of the syndicate, and prove his valor and prowess before the Horde properly.

"I have no time for this," he snarled, swiping hard at the offending blade in the king's hands, knocking it aside long enough for Nobu'tan to grab the man with his free claw, throwing his across the courtyard. The human collapsed in a heap of his own metal armor, and the sword spiraled out of his grasp.

Summoning a pair of Fel hounds, Nobu'tan looked disdainfully at the fallen man, even as the fool attempted to rise and continue fighting him, "Feast on his flesh…" he commanded the hounds, turning his back as the man's screams started as the demonic dogs obeyed.

The battle here was well in hand, and therefore Nobu'tan leaped skyward, planning on a grand entrance to the front line of the other battle. Aiming for the center of the entrance of the keep, Nobu'tan hardly cared for the orc warriors that jumped aside to make room for his crashing landing. The hooves of his demonic form left smoldering rubble where he landed, even as Nobu'tan stormed inside, ignoring the fighting all around him as the Horde spared no prisoners, and mounted the wooden stairs within to the second floor of the damaged keep.

Human were all starting to look the same to Nobu'tan, and the leader of the Syndicate here was unremarkable to say the least, with his face covered and two short swords in hand. Despite the clear attempt at concealing his emotion, Nobu'tan could feel the fear pouring from the man as the warlock in demon form approached.

"This fortress is now mine!" Nobu'tan challenged, brandishing the flaming Fel weapon that he had created.

Another human stepped forward, more heavily armed and less afraid than the leader, which seemed to calm the first, and they prepared themselves to fight with Nobu'tan. "So be it, fools… you all will die alongside the rest…" the warlock announced, leaping forward and lashing out with his weapon. The bodyguard's weapon broke so easily, carved through by the Felflames of Nobu'tan's sword, and severing the man's head from his shoulders.

Kicking the now terrified leader with a cloven hoof, the fiery imprint searing flesh and melting the pathetic armor of the man, Nobu'tan started forward, shifting back to his orcish disguise, Felfire blade dissipating, just as Warchief Nek'rosh and the other Horde leaders arrived, pushing through the last remaining guards that had quailed under the intimidating presence of Nobu'tan.

"Let all the Horde know of this day, when we secured victory over our foes and won a powerful fortress of the humans to use as our own," Nobu'tan said to the others, not turning his back on the human. "and let them know that the defenders of this place fell in terror of our power, and died like the dogs that they are!"

A blast of Fel fire enveloped the leader of the Syndicate, and he died screaming at the pain of burning alive, even as finally Nobu'tan turned to face the leaders of his Horde. "The corpses will fertilize the land outside this fortress for a time, where we can make use of the land for feeding our warriors, and the nearby timber can be used to repair this place, and make it far more defensible than it ever war before. But use wood sparingly, as we have to create ships to cross the ocean with, and all resources must go to that end foremost…"

"I agree," the Warchief said, silently acknowledging Nobu'tan's commands without letting the others know how subservient he was to the warlock. "Stone would be a far better use of material to shore up the walls and repair these building for our use. The ogres can go about carrying what we need after the goblins carve it to suit our purposes."

"A fine suggestion, Warchief," Nobu'tan replied, leaving the command to do as he had suggested unsaid. Nek'rosh Skullcrusher was a keen and intelligent orc, and knew enough that to openly challenge or contradict Nobu'tan would be his own end, but at the same time he had to appear to be the one taking charge and leading, for the sake of the many who did not know that Nobu'tan continued to lead the Horde.

Many had forgotten, or no longer lived, who exactly the human warlock in their midst was, and if they knew the sheer number of humans in the Stormreavers, or even the existence of the Council of the Black Harvest, Nobu'tan heavily suspected that another like unto Ogrim Doomhammer might rise up to steal away his power and authority over the Horde.

That could not be allowed, and so the Horde must be kept busy working toward their inevitable destiny of conquest, and never show to light the other plans that Nobu'tan had in motion, especially regarding the Legion, either to aid or to hinder them.

So he would play the long game, and focus for a long time on improving the Horde, and making them autonomous of his direct control, without diverging from his grand design of course. A fine line indeed to walk, but Gul'dan showed him the way, and if he did not allow his own arrogance to cloud his judgment, or grow too impatient to move on his own, Nobu'tan would succeed where his mentor failed.

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Tenebrous Rode calmly through the human and dwarven lands to the north of Blackrock Mountain. The foolish people of this world were so polarized by the races of their allies and enemies that he wasn't even challenged as he descended from the highland loch of the dwarves into the swampy Wetlands.

Having talked Lord Nobu'tan out of marching his forces across land to their new northern fortress, in order to aid his own stealth in getting to Menethil Harbor, and from there return to the lands called Kalimdor.

Still, upon entering the settlement, Blaise wondered if these fools would have even noticed a large army marching across their lands. The town was seemingly completely at peace, going about their business of ferrying things to and from the large docks, where many strange ships were resting, waiting for passengers and cargo to take them elsewhere.

Finding which ship was heading across to the other continent proved just how lax in security these humans were, as they freely told him, and the captain gladly took a small handful of gold coins in payment for the extra passenger, far less than the goblins and their airship had demanded.

Watching the waves lap gently onto the shore as the ship continued to be loaded and prepared to set sail, Blaise wondered if these human nations really had the strength to hold up against the might of the new Horde. It seemed to him as though whatever strength of will they had had in the past was long gone now, lost with the fracturing of their Alliance and dwindled with the lack of a significant threat.

Although, he did have to consider that apparently the Burning Legion had invaded once before in recent years, and that the Humans had stood at the forefront of the defense of their world, so perhaps they simply lost too many of their heroes in that battle. If that was true, then it would be all the easier for their new Horde to overrun these lands and claim them.

Still, if the humans had had the strength to fight off the Legion, perhaps he was underestimating them. And more over, if Nobu'tan was sincere in his plan to betray the Legion, wouldn't these nations be ideal for him to ally himself with, and unite the clearly hidden or forgotten strength of these humans with the raw potential and iron will of the warlock leader?

It was all too confusing, and uncertainly floundered at every turn, but thankfully Blaise had a singular objective, and in regards to these humans, he had no qualms or objectives, other than to use them to cross the sea. He would quickly locate the hideouts of the Shadow Council, and eliminate as many as he could, and save the time for his personal ideas of their overarching plan for when he could speak with Nobu'tan one-on-one again.

Nodding to himself as the boat slowly pulled away, sailing toward the horizon, Blaise solidified his conclusion. He was not a tool of thinking in the Horde, although he had his moments where his opinion and idea were useful, but one of the highly sharpened and carefully placed blades. He would pierce the side of their enemies, letting them bleed while Nobu'tan wielded the hammer of the fullness of their wrath in the open, crushing their opposition while weakened.

He was content with this place in the Order of the Black Harvest, and looked forward to the time that they start to heavily recruit others into their ranks, warlocks or even new members for the Stormreaver Clan. He would enjoy training others to be blades of the Horde, much like himself.

Drawing the small daggers that he kept with himself at all times, he pondered how best to manipulate such skills as his mother had taught him so long ago, alongside several of her husbands. The art of secrecy, stealth and even the use of poison were his forte from a young age, and Nobu'tan had been wise enough to see it fair early, tempting him with the addition of the Fel to his large set of skills.

Concealing them in his robes once more as several seamen passed him, chatting about the women and drink that they had partaken in back at the harbor, Blaise listened carefully to their conversation, noting the dialect and pronunciation of words. Being a master of disguise, even without the aid of Fel magic, he was always taking stock of what could be used to further solidify his personas, and the accents of these humans was something that the translation spells never quite managed to imitate.

Currently, he was passing off as a mage from Stormwind, on a mission to Kalimdor to deliver vital intelligence to the leader there, one Jaina Proudmoore. The lack of magical among these people usually meant that they would just shrug and ignore anything regarding mages, acknowledge the fact that they were unlearned in the art and therefore not needed to know details regarding politics and the like, which was exactly what Blaise had hoped to capitalize upon.

The captain had said that it would take a fair bit of time to cross the wide ocean, especially as they had to eventually avoid the Maelstrom in the center of the ocean, which when asked about it wouldn't say where it came from or what was in it.

Blaise had let that drop, as it wasn't important information, and found a cozy, dry corner of the ship to rest on, enjoying the shift of the ship as it slid over the waves and onward to their destination.

There would be time enough for questions, once he had achieved his mission, and possibly found some lore that the Shadow Council had retained from the world for Lord Nobu'tan.

It would be an ideal gift to return with, Blaise suspected, as the orc-raised human was desperate to know more about the changes that had occurred to the world between the time he had return to earth and now. And hopefully, if Blaise managed to find something interesting, he would be given a greater role and more thorough purpose in achieving their revenge against the Legion.

Hours passed, and eventually Blaise started to notice other formations in the distance, but they were not nearly large enough to be Kalimdor, and he doubted that they had journeyed nearly long enough to have arrived yet. They hadn't even passed the Malestrom yet.

"What land is that?" he asked as a sailor passed, but the man merely shook his head, not even deigning to answer.

When this happened two additional times, Blaise started to wonder if it was simply another topic that was not permitted to be spoken about, or worse something that they felt he ought to know already, and were questioning the validity of his disguise by him asking.

Eventually the captain, bemused by Blaise's continuous stars at the cluster of islands, finally came over and explained, "We don't talk about those islands, as there are Naga in the waters around the near shores, and most of the men fear that discussing them aloud will draw their attention."

"Ah," Blaise said at last, understanding dawning upon him. Seafaring folk long held onto oral traditions of fear and superstition regarding places, things, even aspects of weather. The fact that these Naga, as the captain called them, seemed to be more of a literal threat rather than a mythological creation changed very little in regards to the narrative. The men were frightened because ships were destroyed if they drew too near to the islands, and therefore they did everything in the power to distance themselves from it, physically mentally and emotionally.

"So you understand why it would be best to just ignore those islands from here on then…" the captain said with a small wink and a nod, which Blaise returned.

"I understand perfectly," he replied, not particularly caring, but allowing this subject as well to drop. The humans clearly wanted as smooth a journey as possible, so that they could arrive back on dry ground without any interference from the sea around them, and the warlock would not do anything to spoil that, or hinder his ability to return on a similar ship when his mission was complete.

Hunkering back down to rest in his private, sheltered area, Blaise allowed himself to relax until he drifted off to sleep, allowing the time to pass as the ship slid along past the island and onward to the Kalimdor continent.

He would allow himself to reengage with reality when they arrived at their destination. Lazham, the imp bound to Blaise, would keep watch just in case something required his attention before the ship finally pulled into port at Theremore Isle, warning him of anyone approaching or a threat to himself and the ship as a whole.

True, Blaise ought to not showcase his true magical powers, but he had his skill with the dagger and assassination that could complement him in a pinch, else wise he could just as easily slaughter the entire ship and steer it himself, albeit with some difficulty due to the size of ship, but he would summon demons to fill the excess places as needed if it came to that.