Many thanks to those who reviewed the previous chapter. these last two weeks have been somewhat difficult to get back into the mode of writing (coming off Christmas break, starting a diet, and class hitting like a truck back at school) and every bit of feedback is greatly appreciated! onward we press, and please, continue to read, review, and enjoy! ~F

Chapter Ninety Five

March of the Living Dead

Personally, Lucius was very glad that they had to remain out of sight as the battle raged at the gates of Zul Aman. He doubted that he would be able to keep an eye on Nobu'tan if they were any closer to the front lines, nor keep a firm rein on the young man's desire to protect the Trolls that he considered part of his family.

It was somewhat inspiring, the old wizard thought, even as the three wizards hurled spells from their vantage point into the thick of the melee at the gates of the Troll stronghold. Nobu'tan was committing every ounce of Fel energy he could summon to hindering and herding the undead and Elven warriors away from the knot of Trolls trying to defend their home, and slowly burning substantial areas of the grassland before Zul Aman in order to block the enemy's advance. The amount of loyalty that the Grand Warlock felt for these beings, even though they had not as of yet formally rejoined the Horde was immense, and it spoke of a deeper emotional connection that the Chieftain of the Stormreavers felt for all those close to him.

Lucius spotted something airborne, flying swiftly toward their location.

"Dragonhawks!" Voone declared, pointing. Nobu'tan didn't even hesitate, changing trajectory and firing a pair of chaotic bolts at the oncoming swarm of flying creatures. Lucius drew his wand, allowing a spray of multicolored jets to fly out, and scoring a few hits on the magical creatures and their riders.

Several plummeted to the ground, and few flew off rider-less, but there seemed to be even more approaching, as well as the massive bats that the undead preferred for flying mounts. "How important is it to keep our interference a secret?" Nobu'tan asked, turning to Voone, and the Troll simply shrugged.

The Grand Warlock smirked at the response, and took a running leap off of the ruined tower. Lucius yelled, but Fel wings sprouted from Nobu'tan's back, granting him flight as he took to the air alongside the rising dragonhawk riders of the Amani.

Blaise was shaking his head in amazement, "Aren't we lucky to have him on our side…" he said, sending out another curse from his wand to take out an approaching flyer.

"I can't say which would be worse," Lucius said sarcastically, "fighting alongside such a madman, or fighting against him."

The supported Nobu'tan as best they could, as the Fel-transformed human took the fight to the enemy air support directly, flames and claws lashing out at any who dared approach the Grand Warlock. With a powerful howl, Nobu'tan unleashed a devastating beam of concentrated Fel energy from his eyes, carving through feathers and flesh and sending scores of the winged foes to the ground, flailing to try and regain their balance before they crashed to the stones below.

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Lor'themar spotted the source of their air support's disruption. "You've got to be kidding," he said, sighing, as the winged demonic form of the Dark Horde's leader manifested, causing mass chaos in the air and demolishing their dragonhawk riders.

"Push forward!" he called, urging his ground forces onward. He was willing to bet that the powerful warlock magic that had been hindering them was caused by the same source, and now that his attention was diverted, they could press through the gates and into the Troll stronghold completely.

"Selama ashal'anore!" he called, signaling the farstriders to unleash a barrage of arrows. Their bows far outstripped the range of the Trolls and their axe throwers, and they planned to use that fact to their advantage as long as possible.

As for Lor'themar himself, he strung an arrow and looked to the sky. If he could bring down the demonic horror, they would have little else to fear as they pushed through the remaining resistance. Their alliance with the Forsaken meant there were few that could stand against their armies on land, but that beast was too powerful to be allowed to control the skies.

Finding a nice vantage of the skies over Zul Aman, Lor'themar drew back his bow. The issue was that the beast was darting swiftly between their flyers, unknowingly using them as shields against the Regent Lord's bow. Still, taking aim at the massive wings, Lor'themar loosed an arrow.

The missile flew true, but was knocked from the air by a jet of colored magic. Glaring at the trajectory of the bolt of magic, Lor'themar spotted the orcs supporting their demon from afar. They had the high ground, and would see anything coming at them or their winged terror. Drawing a trio of arrows, the former Ranger General started firing indiscriminately at the far tower, watching carefully as the two casters reacted, knocking arrow after arrow from the air with their magic, but therefore leaving their winged ally exposed.

After another set of arrows, Lor'themar spotted the demon climbing higher into the open air, exposed. Pivoting quickly, the Regent Lord loosed as many arrows as he could toward the beast, hoping that at least one struck the toughened hide.

Spells flew from the tower, knocking many of his arrows out of the air, but one finally found its target, and sunk deeply into the back of the creature, around the shoulders. The beast plummeted from the sky, suddenly unable to fly.

Without waiting for confirmation of the creatures death by falling, Lor'themar drew his sword and rallied his forces, "Tal anu'men no Sin'dorei!" He would personally lead the next charge at the gates of Zul Aman.

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Nobu'tan knew that there was an archer aiming for him, but he had trusted Lucius and Blaise to watch him. Therefore, the stinging pain as an arrow entered his back came as a shock. The muscles conTrolling his wings screamed in protest at trying to keep him aloft, and Nobu'tan knew that he would die if he did not do something to prevent his imminent crash.

The other flying beasts rushed past him as he fell, and Nobu'tan caught a glimpse of the stone ground he was heading toward. Channeling Fel flame through his feet, the Grand Warlock propelled himself away from the solid stone and toward a thatched hut, which ought to soften the landing marginally better than the stone ground.

However, crashing through the building like a meteorite, Nobu'tan's side exploded with pain, and shrapnel of wood and chips of stone flew in all directions. A female Troll was shrieking, huddled with her children in the corner opposite from Nobu'tan. He tried to rise, and his side screamed at him.

Looking down, Nobu'tan saw the large shaft of timber protruding from his side, and dark red-black blood oozing slowly around the puncture. Instinctively, he knew that to remove that shaft of wood would spell death for him unless he found a healer quickly, and turning slowly, he reached a hand toward the Troll, trying to speak. No words emerged, and the warlock realized with a jolt that one of his lungs was pierced.

The Troll seemed to understand; however, and jabbered in their language to one of her children, sending the young Troll scrambling out of the damaged hut, and came to his side. The Trolls and her children slowly dragged Nobu'tan from the building. Try as they might to be gentle, every movement was agony to the warlock.

By the time they exited the building, the rest of the ceiling swayed violently and collapsed, and Nobu'tan had to acknowledge silently that this Troll mother had saved his life. The young male Troll returned, and elderly shaman hot on his heels, and the two adult Trolls started into their rapid language, before the shaman turned to Nobu'tan.

"Dis be hurtin' much, yeah?" he said, pointing slowly at the impaled wood before placing his green hands around it. "You be grittin' now, so I can be pullin'." He said, and gave a sharp tug without warning. Nobu'tan screamed at the pain as the wood departed his body, and the blood started to flow freely.

But the shaman was already chanting, magical waters swirling around and mending the wound, pulling the fresh blood back inside where it belonged and righting the organ damage. Nobu'tan gasped and coughed the last of the blood that had been trapped in his lung, and slowly stood, glad that magic also removed the pain that accompanied such injuries.

"I thank you for your timely intervention," Nobu'tan said, slowly standing and checking himself for residual pain or other injuries.

Lucius and Blaise arrived, War Master Voone trailing behind them. "The Elves and undead have pushed through the gate, and the Amani are falling back to our position."

Nobu'tan looked around, thinking hard. As much as he'd hate to admit it, with the loss of air superiority and the enemy inside the gate, it was likely that the city would be lost. "Have the non combatants retreat to our ship, and we'll open a portal to Blackrock for the rest to retreat through."

The three Trolls exchanged a glance, and seemed to agree upon the sentiment, "It'll be hard to be convincin' Zul'jin to retreat," Voone stated, "but if'in you be achievin' dat, da Amani will go wherever he be leadin'."

Nobu'tan nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. Zul'jin was the ultimate leader of the Amani, their legend and hero. If he was going to stand and fight to the death, the rest of their race would stand or fall with him.

Turning toward the gate, Nobu'tan gave his orders, "do it, and spread the word. If Zul'jin agrees, I'll send green sparks into the air; otherwise, I will stand with him and drive the Elves from this place."

Lucius was staring at him, and Nobu'tan figured that the old wizard would be the one to see through his lie. Green sparks would go up in the event that Zul'jin fell in battle, regardless of the old Troll's wishes.

It didn't take long to find the one-armed, legendary Amani. "Reinforce da front!" Zul'jin shouted, hurling an axe at a charging undead, "Don't let dem fur'der!"

"Zul'jin," Nobu'tan said as he approached, "the city is going to be overrun, we need to pull back. Let the women and children board our ship and flee, and I can open a portal for the rest of the warriors to fall back through."

The Troll's single eye glinted with steel, "I not be lettin' dese Elves take our home!" he said, dodging around a pile of rocks as several ranged weapon flew at him and Nobu'tan.

The warlock conjured a wall of FElfire, incinerating the projectiles, before throwing the demonic flames back at the attackers, "yes, we will let them take your home, but we will be able to make them pay for every inch they gain, and still have no victory!" he shouted, "so long as a single Amani lives and breathes, they will fear your return, and if you live, all the Trolls of the Eastern Kingdom will rally to your side. We can gather an army of Trolls that the world has never seen and march back to take Zul Aman, and the rest of these lands!"

The Troll seemed to be listening, but took a few moments to peg another Elf with a well placed throwing axe. Nobu'tan watched as the injured Elf fell, only to replaced by a half dozen other Elves and undead.

"Perhaps you be right…" Zul'jin murmured. "If we get all da supplies and civilians outta da city, we can fall back and burn everytin' behind us."

"I will send the signal for the evacuation," Nobu'tan affirmed, and Zul'jin nodded.

Eagerly, Nobu'tan sent a shower of green sparks into the air with a wave of his wand. "We should start to fall back, and demolish the path behind us," he suggested, and the old Troll scanned the nearby buildings, looking for an acceptable means of ruining the road they fought upon. "Dere!" he said, pointing with a throwing axe at a tall tower, "bring it down!" he ordered to Nobu'tan before throwing himself from cover and bellowing in the Troll language.

Warriors all around started to fall back and the Elves and undead rapidly filled the void that the Amani vacated. Nobu'tan waited for the right moment, and launched several blasts of powerful Fel magic into the base of the crumbling tower, destabilizing it and sending it falling down across the path, and right onto the forefront of their enemy's position.

"Fall back, to de docks!" Zul'jin called, and together the entire host of warriors sped back through the city, rallying all members of the tribe to flee to the waterfront.

Lucius and Blaise were there, alongside War Master Voone, shepherding female and young Trolls onto the Dark Horde ship as quickly as they could, while others formed defensive ranks around the fleeing civilians.

"That barricade won't delay them for long," Nobu'tan said.

"It doesn't have ta," Zul'jin said, fingering the hand axe as the Elves blasted their way through the rubble. The undead were the first to start down the rest of the burning city, and Nobu'tan smirked, "Captain!" he shouted up to the commander of the ship, "Bombard the city!"

The cannons rang out, sending fiery devastation around the advancing dead, disrupting the charge and funneling them tighter to the center of the causeway. "For the Amani, and for the Dark Horde!" Nobu'tan shouted conjuring a host of demons and charging in their wake. The Felguards roared as they crashed into the undead, swinging their weapons wildly and causing as much confusion as possible.

The Amani Trolls flanked both sides of the causeway, hurling their axes from protected positions. Zul'jin joined Nobu'tan at the front lines, hacking away as the dead that pushed through the ranks of demons.

"My Lord, the last of the civilians are aboard!" Lucius called from the rear, where he and Blaise were firing spells into the ranks trying to reinforce their enemies.

"Set sail for Arathi!" Nobu'tan commanded, unleashing a burst of flames, creating a buffer around himself and Zul'jin from the Forsaken warriors.

The ship started to pull away, and Nobu'tan turned to the docks and concentrated. A nether portal tore open, and quickly a pair of spells shot through from Nobu'tan, signaling the Dark Horde to advance. Orcs charged through, reinforcing the line and giving the rest of the Trolls time to escape through the vortex to the safety of the Burning Steppes.

"Everyone, through the portal, now!" Nobu'tan cried, signaling the remaining Troll warriors, when a thought suddenly struck him. Where were the Elves?

Suddenly, the snap of bowstrings was heard in unison, and Nobu'tan spun quickly to see a torrent of arrows flying at him.

A shadow blocked out the sight, and Nobu'tan threw up his arms to catch the body of Zul'jin as the Troll hero slumped into the Orc-raised human's arms, countless projectiles in his back.

"No!" Nobu'tan cried, hefting the large body of the Troll and starting toward his portal. If he could make it to healers, then Zul'jin could survive this. The Troll's hand grasped his shoulder and stopped him. "Save me people," Zul'jin whispered, his voice weak. "lead da Amani back to da glory dat I could not!"

"I won't let you die," Nobu'tan said, grimacing as tears burned down his cheeks.

"Amani… neva…die…" Zul'jin said, growing faint.

"Then live damn you!" Nobu'tan shouted, trying to heft the body again, but it was growing heavier as the Warlord's strength gave out.

"Bwonsamdi…." Zul'jin said, his remaining eye growing dim, "Take… me spirit…"

The mighty Troll gave one final sighing breath, and died. In his heart, Nobu'tan felt something more break and give way. He failed to protect someone he cared about again. But he did not fall into despair. A pair of grunts came and took the body. "Carefully carry him to the main hall of Blackrock Mountain," Nobu'tan said, "he will be laid to rest in honor of the Dark Horde…"

"Yes, Chieftain," the grunts said, the shimmer of blue on their arms as they obeyed the leader of the Stormreavers.

The remaining Trolls look on in horror and anger as the grunts carried the body of Zul'jin from Zul Aman. "Warriors of the Amani, rally to me! We will avenge your Warlord, but on our terms and at our time, withdraw through the portal!"

The Trolls hesitated for only a brief moment, before rushing for the portal to follow the body of their former leader.

Casting a glance a the ranks of demons, slowly getting destroyed by the undead and their Elven reinforcement, Nobu'tan breathed heavily, Fel flames growing around him as he allowed his anger to boil over.

"I declare an eternal war of wrath against the Frosaken and the Elves allied with the Horde!" he screamed, magically amplifying his voice, "I will return, with all the might of the Dark Horde, and destroy you all! I am Darkness Incarnate, and I will not be denied!"

Clapping his hands together, a circle of powerful Fel flame shot out in all directions, incinerating everything near the Grand Warlock, and buying him time to walk through his portal and seal it from the other side. Quel'Thalas may be closed to them for now, but he would return with a vengeance in due time. Upon the fallen form of Zul'jin, Nobu'tan swore it.

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Pasny Parkinson strolled through the bustling Trade District of Stormwind City. She was out running quick errands for Lady Malfoy, and doing everything she could to help out as the pregnancy neared the delivery date. It was a matter of days now, both Draco, Narcissa, and the other priests who had come to check on her all agreed.

She was picking up some last minute supplies, extra rags and some light food for herself and Narcissa. Coming out of a store and looking around, Pansy frowned as a giant shadow covered most of the district.

She looked up, along with many of the other Stormwind citizens, and gasped at the massive structure floating in the sky over the city. She had never seen anything like it, and the sinister aura around it made her skin crawl.

From somewhere in the dreadful citadel, a voice boomed over the whole of Stormwind, "FOOLS OF STORMWIND! HEAR ME, NAÏVE CHILDREN OF THE ALLIANCE! TREMBLE AND KNOW YOUR DOOM, FOR THE LICH KING'S GAZE IS FIXED UPON YOU!"

To her horror, hands and skeletal arms exploded upward from the cobbled street all around, and undead creatures started to pull themselves free, armed and creaking sickeningly to do battle against the Stormwind guards.

Citizens screamed and fled, while guards charged from all quarters of the city to repel the undead invaders. Pansy was torn. She knew magic that could defend the people, but her priority was Narcissa. Dropping her shopping, she drew her wand and ran, dodging through the grasping arms of the dead, and layering charms against those in her way as she sprinted for the canals. If she reached the bridge to the Mage district, the protections of Lord and Lady Malfoy's home would recognize her peril and aid her.

As she wove her way between the bank and auction house however, more figures started to appear, wearing dark robes and bones for helmets. Pansy recognized the stench of the necromantic magic on them, and darted into a side alley, blasting a skeleton with a bolt of shadow magic.

"Tremble mortal, before the march of the Scourge!" a figure ahead of her declared, leveling his hands at her, shadow pulsating on them as the necromancer challenged her.

"Not on your life!" she declared, anger and bravery surging through her. She would not allow this monster to keep her from her future family.

"Brave of you, girl." The necromancer taunted, even as undead appeared around Pansy, "but our master knows of your people, and their gifts. We will not waste such an opportunity to acquire someone of your power…"

Pasny started to chant a spell, before a noxious stench overcame her, distracting her long enough for the first blade to strike her through her shield charm. She cried out, turning and blasting the offending undead, but the hulking figure did not even flinch back.

"Be delicate," the necromancer instructed, "we want her in one piece when we raise her to serve the Lich King…"

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Draco was in Stormwind Keep, with Anduin and the King when the massive build appeared.

"A necropolis…" Anduin said, horror etched on his face.

"Your Majesty!" a footman shouted, running into the throne room where they were meeting, discussing the recently returned forces from Silithus, "the Scourge are attacking the Trade District, and moving through the entire city, they're heading this way."

As if in answer, another speech sounded from the bellowing fool in the floating citadel, "TODAY WE WILL FORGE A NEW ALLIANCE – FOR TODAY YOU WILL FIGHT AND DIE! YOUR BODIES WILL RISE TO JOIN THE LICH KING'S UNDEAD ARMIES! ALL HAIL THE LICH KING… SOON TO BE KING OF STORMWIND… AND ALL OF AZEROTH!"

"Warriors of Stormwind, draw your weapons!" Varian shouted, rising to his feet and raising the Elven blade to the ceiling, "Today we conquer death itself!"

The guards around the dais of the throne leapt into action, and from the corners of the keep more of Stormwind's finest appeared.

"Bolvar, get Anduin to safety!" Varian cried, even as his son protested.

"Father! No! I'm not afraid…" the prince said, already having pulled his bow from behind his back.

"No one questions your bravery, Anduin!" Varian shot back, piercing his son with a stare, "But a touch of that green slime and you become one of them. Then where would our people be?"

Draco silently agreed with the King, and nudged Anduin to go with Fordragon.

"Sire! The Scourge are at our gates!" a guard shouted, even as the stench of death flooded the inner halls of the Keep.

Scourge soldiers sprinted into the room, colliding heavily with the guards, and one leapt at the King's unprotected back.

"Father!" Anduin cried, throwing a dagger at the same time that Draco blasted the undead with a bolt of shadow magic.

Varian turned, steeling himself and leapt into the fray, "We must reach the Mage District, and send instructions for them to shield the city."

"I will go!" Draco cried, thinking of his mother, who he could protect after delivering the King's message.

"You men, escort Lord Malfoy to the Mage District, kill any undead that stand in your path!" Varian shouted, directing several guards to follow Draco.

The warlock ran forward, using both wand and curses the push the enemy back, opening a path for them to sprint through the mass of zombified flesh and skeletal arms.

Unfortunately, from the direction of old town, a company of stitched horrors was slowly wading toward the Keep, massive hooks and cleavers rattling on rusted chains as they moved. "We'll need to take an alternative route," Draco said, leading his men down the stairs at the front of the Keep, before turning toward the dwarven district. The fighting was less intense in the rear portions of the city, and he figured that if they stuck to the backside of the canals, they could slip past the majority of the undead and reach the Mage District, and his mother, swiftly.

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Narcissa was startled awake by a massive explosion out in the city somewhere. She could tell that the house was empty, her magic growing rather wild as she neared the time for her baby to enter the world. Narcissa was not supposed to be on her feet for a long time, but the panic that she felt in the air forced to her rise, and pull on a large shawl over her dressing gown.

The wards twanged, signaling that figures were approaching her door swiftly, and she moved toward it, arriving just after the heavy fists started to pound on the wooden frame, their voices crying for entry.

Narcissa cracked the door slightly, spotting the handful of Stormwind Priests, Mages, and two guards looking nervous as they stood in from of her door. "Lady Malfoy," the lead Mage said, "We need to evacuate the Mage District, please come with us."

"What's going on?" Narcissa asked, holding herself as the baby shifted sharply, reacting to her worry.

"Scourge forces are attacking the city, spilling out from the Trade District, we need to get out of here before they come for us as well." The guard explained.

"Inside, now," Narcissa said, sensing something threatening approaching. The humans took no time hesitating, and piled into the house, and Narcissa slammed the door, just as something large and magical splashed against the wards in a dazzling display of power.

"We need to move," one of the priests said, looking out one of the windows, "the street is still clear. If we can reach the Cathedral, we'll be safe. The undead won't dare approach such a holy site."

Narcissa had a bad feeling about leaving her house. She and Lucius had put so much time and effort into its construction, and to abandon it in a crisis seemed to be a betrayal of a sort, but Narcissa also felt strongly that the undead would be drawn to it like a beacon. She had to think of her child's safety first.

Patting the pocket of her gown to assure herself of her wand's presence, she nodded, "We should waste no time then," she announced.

The Stormwind guards were the first to exit the house. Just outside the boarder of the wards, everything was coated in a layer of greenish gas that was clearly withering all plant life that it came into contact with. "A moment," Narcissa said, waving her wand to conjure protective bubbles around their heads. She had no idea what any contact with the gas would do, but getting it inside the lungs would likely be the worst outcome.

A final flick of her wand sealed the door behind them all, and powered the wards on her house as strong as they went. She just hoped it was still standing when she returned. The two guards led the way, the others forming a protecting ring around Narcissa as they moved deeper into the Mage District.

It seemed that the undead had surged up from various corners of the city, as mages and other guards were fighting the walking corpses everywhere. Luckily with the casters escorting her, Narcissa's group had little interference as they fled from the area around the Mage Tower to the north, heading for the bridge between the Mage and Park Districts. Demons were surging out of the Slaughtered Lam Tavern, and Narcissa knew that the warlocks that trained beneath the shady tavern were just as focused on survival as all the others in the city.

As the escaped the District and entered the canals, Narcissa started to feel something, a sort of shudder in her midsection that couldn't have started at the worst possible moment. Clutching her stomach, she tried to stay upright, as the first of the contractions started inside her.

"My Lady!" one of the priests said, catching her by the shoulders before she fell to the cobblestones, "Just a bit further, hold on." He reassured, the man lending his strength for Narcissa to lean on as she pushed through the agonizing pain.

But as they neared the bridge, the awaiting guards were struck down by powerful dark magic, and an unearthly wail sounded from the street to their right, which looped around the outside of the Mage District toward the entrance of Stormwind.

Blearily, Narcissa turned to see another force of undead rushing to stop them, with several robed men guiding a shimmering specter of pale white.

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Draco sensed that something was devastatingly wrong. He and the guards had run along the canals around the Dwarven District, as explosions erupted inside. Clearly, those who lived within needed little outside help; their projectile weapons being more than a match for the hordes of shambling undead raging through Stormwind.

Likewise, the Cathedral District was eerily serene, the holy light protecting the grounds from the undead trying to approach and burning them to ashes as they wandered toward the towering spires of the cathedral. Clerics and priests ran about in the courtyard before the cathedral, healing anyone who arrived from all corners of the city. Pushing through the crowds, Draco hoped to catch a glimpse of Pansy or his mother, but neither was in sight.

As much as he wanted to split off and search for them, he had little choice but to follow the express direction of the King. It would protect them all if he got to the Mage District and informed the Magi of the King's command. Sprinting out of the western archway of the Cathedral District, Draco heard a scream.

There was a group of soldiers and civilians caught on the far bridge between Mage and Park Districts. To his horror, Draco recognized his mother among them, leaning heavily on the arm of a priest, while a pair of Magi and Stormwind Guards tried to fend off the ghouls and other undead harassing them.

"NO!" Draco shouted, apparating on the spot. He landed heavily between the group and the nearest ghoul, blasting the undead corpse with shadow magic and sending it hurtling backward.

"Well, well, another of these interesting subjects," a man dressed in dark robes and bones said, from the protective circle of ghouls and more powerful undead. "I am most pleased. I feared that only these weak members of your race were present for me to use…"

Draco snarled, understanding that it meant that this necromancer had already hunted and killed several of their people. "Oh yes, show me the fury of your internal magic," the Necromancer said, his dead eyes widening from beneath the massive skull he wore, "we shall see if I, Gothik the Harvester, have created the ultimate magical warrior for the Lich King."

He moved aside, and the other undead cleared the path for a shimmering white ghost. Draco knew better than to allow his guard to falter, but as the flowing hair of the ghostly figured parted, he felt his heart sputter to a halt in his chest.

"…Pansy?" he asked, horrified.

The creature had the perfect appearance of his fiancé, her eyes wide and seemingly frozen in an eternal state of horror. Much like the ghosts of their home world, silvery blood splattered her midsection, and Draco could feel his heart rending as despair took hold of him.

"She was dear to thee I see…" Gothlik said, stroking his long beard, "a pity, I had hoped for a well fought battle to test her with… but alas, I'll have to find another that will actually pose a threat to the Lich King and our plans."

Rage filled Draco's mind. Sparks flew from his wand, as he rose to his full height and glared at the necromancer, "You will die by my hand!" he declared, deadly green energy mixed with the Fel sparking around him.

"Avada Kedavera!" Draco shouted, pointing his wand at the Harvester. The Necromancer twitched, drawing a wand of his own, and the ghost of Pansy raised her hands in a flash. A green shell of magical power erupted around the necromancer, absorbing and negating the Killing Curse completely, even as the old man chuckled.

"You are sorely unprepared to face the likes of the Scourge, boy," the necromancer said, as he fingered the wand in his hands, "we will be the rulers of this world, and your people's power will be the key to all our dreams. Now, my dear, kill them all!" he ordered, pointing Pansy's wand at Draco, and sending the ghost of his fiancé into a rage.

She screamed, and Draco felt his ears start to ring as the pitch and volume magnified. The stone under their feet started to crack and splinter, and Draco knew that their eardrums were in danger if he didn't act. "Silencio!" he cried, snuffing out the sound of the banshee's wail, which provoked the ghost of his lover into attacking directly.

Despite appearing very much like a ghost, the specter before him was actually quite corporeal, and her claw-like hands wrapped around his throat, knocking him to the ground, even as the ghouls leapt past him to assault the guards protecting his mother.

Somehow, despite the fact that she was silently screaming and doing everything in her power to overwhelm him, Draco could swear that he saw tears forming at the edges of the ghostly creature's eyes. Was it possible that some trace of his Pansy was still in there?

Unfortunately, without access to his wand, he couldn't use anything less than lethal combat spells. Therefore, after apologizing under his breath, Draco committed himself to the battle. Blasting the shade off of him with a pair of shadowy bolts, Draco leapt to his feet. While his specialty was curses, Draco was more than capable of spewing Felfire much like Nobu'tan or other members of the Black Harvest, and he proved it thusly.

A torrent of the dark orange fire washed out from him, consuming two ghouls and knocking away the others with severe burns. As he turned to face off against the necromancer, Gothlik was already calling additional undead out of the stone beneath them.

Another bust of flame launched out from the warlock, but the banshee interposed itself, a shield of glowing green magic absorbing and negating the flames.

"Anti-magic…" Draco muttered to himself, thinking swiftly.

"Now you see the futility of your cause…" Gorthlik said, smirking as his minions filled in the ranks between him and Draco, "throw down your arms and embrace the rule of you new King!"

"Not on our lives!" another voice rang out, "For the Alliance!" bolts of magic slammed into the ranks of the undead, and Draco turned to see the entire host of earth refugees rallied around them, each with wands pointed and magic crackling. Witches and wizards alike were glaring at the necromancer and his undead minions, daring them to even try to advance.

"So kind of you all to assemble yourselves for us," the robed man said, still thinking he had the upper hand, "all the easier for me to raise you all at once…"

"Pansy?" one of the men said, and Draco grimaced as his fiancé's father pushed through to the front. Mr. Parkinson took one look at the pale shade of his daughter, and screamed a heart shattering cry. "You monster!" he yelled at the Necromancer, "You will pay for this! Confringo!"

The spark of an explosion spell triggered the mob, which advanced together, bombarding the undead with spells of all kinds, driving them back and cutting down wave after wave as the ghouls and other abominable creatures tried to retaliate.

Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle appeared, taking over for the Stormwind Priests and hefted Narcissa onto their shoulders, "Don't worry, Lady Malfoy," Gregory said, "We'll get you to the Cathedral."

"You men," Draco said, signaling the rest of the guard that had been protecting his mother, "the King has an order for the Mage Tower, I need to get in there and deliver it."

Leaving the powerful mob of wizard-kind to press the rabble out of the canals, Draco took off toward the Mage District proper, his new guard flanking him and keeping watch as they entered.

Luckily, it seemed that the warlocks from the Slaughtered Lamb had broken out of their underground hiding place, and had pressed the attack to force the undead back toward the Trade District, which cleared the way for Draco and his entourage to scale the Mage Tower and approaching the Archmage of Stormwind.

"King Varain has orders," Draco said as he approached, "Get the shield barrier over Stormwind, and force the Necropolis out over the harbor, away from out fleet."

The old mage furrowed his brow, pondering what the King must have had planned, but obeyed, and soon the chanting of the shield spell rang out from the top of the tower. Draco then departed, wishing nothing more than to plunge deep into the heart of their enemies, and avenge his fiancé.