Chapter Ninety Six

Allies of Light and Darkness

From the safety of his personal chambers in Naxxramas, Lich Lord Kel'Thuzad watched eagerly at the progression of the Lich King's Invasion of the Eastern Kingdoms.

It was somewhat expected that Sylvanas and the denizens of the Undercity would have been the best prepared for what they were to face, but even Kel'Thuzad did not think that their advance would have been thwarted so easily. At least the garrison now firmly lodged in the ruins of Andorhal would be a useful buffer between the Banshee Queen's forces and the location of Naxxramas, which was holding now over the bastion of Stratholme.

Stormwind too was faring far better than expected, a surge of magical citizenry effectively pushing out their forces from the innermost sections of the city. Kel'Thuzad was oddly pleased with this; however, as he recognized the flair for magic in these new people that had attracted him to the young Tobias so many years ago.

If the trait was spreading, or else had been brought back from wherever the young warlock had been sent, then there would be countless subjects for the Lich King to experiment on. Their internal aptitude for all magical arts would make them the most powerful casters in the Lich King's arsenal, and therefore invaluable assets to attain.

Turning to the east, Kel'Thuzad was concerned over the attack on the Blasted Lands. He had not expected the area around the Dark Portal to be too difficult for his forces, but they had found a great resistance among the Ogres and Trolls of the region, all flying a strange banner unlike any he had seen during the Second War. A new Clan must have emerged, and its numbers were massive.

But it was of little matter. That region would lay dormant for a while longer. All Kel'Thuzad's desire and attention was firmly contained on the Burning Steppes, and the siege of Blackrock Mountain.

The Dark Horde had grown to become a tidal force to be reckoned with here, and with Nobu'tan at their command, Kel'Thuzad was not willing to let a single one of their forces survive. Frost Wyrms had been employed, and as the dead marched over the ashy landscape, the Lich Lord figured that there would be a great deal of bloodshed on the plains.

Unfortunately, his commanders reported that all the Dark Horde's forces had withdrawn into the mountain, and sealed themselves inside, clearly willing to wait out whatever attack was to come against them.

The fools... The living dead would wait for them until they had devoured each other in their lust for food and choking resources, and then take what remained as fuel for their ever increasing armies.

Nevertheless, they had to remain nearby to prevent any sort of raiders from emerging to try and relieve their forces inside. And that was problematic because of the warlocks of the Stormreaver Clan, who had taken to every parapet and tower in the mountain, raining fire and shadow down upon the hungry hordes of the Scourge at their gates.

What the young man hoped to achieve by waiting out the inevitable, Kel'Thuzad did not know, but his pride and bravado would avail him nothing. His minions had their orders, and the Four Horsemen would ensure that their siege was a success, no matter what the warlock summoned or conjured to defend himself.

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Nobu'tan felt his anger beginning to boil over. Watching the undead forces try to encircle Blackrock Mountain on the Burning Steppe's side as the Dark Horde fired long range spells and other bolts of power at them from a long distance; he knew that they would have stood little chance.

But what these Scourge did not know was the ingenuity of the goblins that they had brought with them, and the weaponry that they had been secretly building to prevent such a siege. It was almost amusing that the lack of true siege warfare among the other factions prevented them from being prepared for the ballistics that the Dark Horde had developed through the invention of the Grongott's goblins, but throughout the upper levels of the mountain they had been slowly excavating outer parapets and platforms for their many siege weapons.

A blast of green sparks into the air from his wand, and the signal was sent. Prepared explosive bolts and flaming boulders exploded outward from the countless emplacements, shattering formations and setting countless undead aflame.

At the same time, Nobu'tan and his warlocks called upon the power of the Fel, raining fire and brimstone, along with many Infernals, onto the besieging forces. He could tell that there would be little that could shake the minds of their emotionless commanders, and that total oblivion to their forces would be needed to stop them.

A bellowing roar from out on the ashy plains seemed to enforce this thought. Massive skeletal dragons were winging their way toward the mountain, chilling the air around them. Nobu'tan answered with a blast of red sparks, which shot well over the pinnacle of the dormant volcano.

From the hollowed crown of the mountain, dragons of the Dark Horde's own rose. Drake riders and other members of the Black Dragonflight hurtled into the air, their flames countering and burning through the chill of the Frost Wyrms.

"Open the gates and release the demons," Nobu'tan ordered, and a runner took his message and sprinted for the gates. If they could keep up pressure on the undead that did not permit for their own losses, then their victory would be swift and decisive.

One of the larger Frost Wyrms spiraled out of the melee between their force and the Black Dragonflight, and heading straight for Nobu'tan on the massive overlook. The massive maw opened wide, and instinctively the Grand Warlock threw up shields, as well as a wall of Fel flame to block the impending gust of magical frost.

Ice started to form around the edges of his shields, and while Nobu'tan felt that he could easily sustain this barrier for as long as needed, there were better and more useful things he could commit his magic toward. Luckily, the drake riders were ordered to keep as many of the enemy's air forces away from the mountain, and swarmed over the Wyrm attacking Nobu'tan, driving it away.

Once the offending skeletal dragon was out of his way, Nobu'tan scanned the battlefield once more. It seemed as though the unending ranks of the dead were thinning slightly, but they had a long way to go before they could break this siege completely. But he was eager to make this irritant disappear.

"You summoned us?" a rattling voice said behind him, and Nobu'tan smirked.

"Voldemort, you and your Death Knights are most welcome at this timely hour." He said, turning to face the collection of various Death Knights, all loyal to him and the cause of the Dark Horde.

"Take to the field, and help us route this horde of undead. Wrest the control from their necromancers and turn their ranks to chaos." He ordered.

"We will do as you command… for now," Voldemort said, the impudence of his weak threat amusing to Nobu'tan. The figures turned and started from the observation landing, and Nobu'tan took stock once more of the formation and ordering of the undead hordes.

It was a good strategy, given what the Scourge knew regarding their forces and power, but Nobu'tan was assured that their secrets were kept well, and the undead would find that the Dark Horde was more than prepared for this sort of combat.

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Voldemort stood before his Death Knights, each prepared with a skeletal steed befitting their various races and sizes, "We stand at the final test of your abilities," he said, "if the Death Eaters are victorious here, we will prove ourselves invaluable to the Dark Horde, and be heralded as their champions, and if we fail, Nobu'tan is likely to cast us aside as swiftly as he permitted your creation… do not fail me."

The dozen Death Knights were silent, allowing the magic of death well up inside them. "Open the gates!" Voldemort ordered, drawing Baron Rivendare's blade. The Runeblade glinted in the torchlight, and he kicked the Deathcharger into full gallop as soon as there was space enough to pass through the opening gate to the mountain.

Endless ranks of skeletal and ghoulish minions were there, clawing blindly at the defenses. Voldemort could sense the immense pleasure that the banshee trapped within his body felt as he swung the massive blade, cleaving the wretched, mindless slaves of the Lich King with impunity.

The others were just as deadly and effective, and the Death Knights of the Dark Horde rapidly started clearing all the foes from the main gate, and down the long sloping ramp to the ashy-covered ground far below. Encircling the base of the ramp were over two dozen robed necromancers, chanting their spells of control and sending more horrors charging at the mountain-fortress.

Firing a coil of death magic at one, Voldemort sent his steed forward with a thought, forcefully crashing through the next wave of mindless undead, and raised Rivendare's blade high. "Come forth, servants, and fulfill my commands!" the former Dark Lord commanded, and all along the path he had just carved through the Scourge ranks, the haggard corpses rose once more, turning on their former masters and battering the lines of attackers.

The others followed suit, and soon an entire battalion had assembled of the dead they had slain, pressing back against the Scourge and keeping the ramp clear for whatever new trick Nobu'tan had in store for these foes.

And Voldemort was not left waiting, nor was he unimpressed when the man himself appeared alongside his other warlocks. Voldemort had had a feeling that Potter had been most unwilling to endanger his allies in this fight, but to stand forth himself and take to the front lines rather than sacrifice others was something that the former dark lord would not have done.

Soon enough the necromancers at the base were routed and falling back, and with ranged support from the warlocks of the Black Harvest, Voldemort sent forth his minions to press the gap wider around the base of the ramp.

The first waves were about to crash into their foes, when a wave of light magic incinerated them. Voldemort was surprised, not having thought that these enemies would use the same magic that they were weak to.

"Enough of this farce!" a tall warrior shouted, even as four mounted riders approached through the ranks of the dead. Voldemort did not know them, but the servant of the Banshee Queen residing inside him seemed to.

"Lay down your arms and surrender to us," the lead horseman, a former human in bold, black armor, commanded, "and you will be given swift deaths before joining the ranks of the Lich King."

Nobu'tan, still a ways back up the ramp, laughed wickedly, "You think I care a whit about your precious Lich King?" he taunted, "I will burn these lands to the ground before I permit so much as a single soldier from joining your undead mob."

"The lad's got some stones to 'im, that's for certain," another of the Horsemen, a dwarf, commented.

"But they would do much better to flee this land, and maybe some of them might survive," a third replied, the lithe, Elven form shifting in his saddle.

"Do not interrupt Lord Morgrain," the third rebuked, sounded somewhat female in voice, even if still a powerful undead.

"If you are so certain of your victory," the leader, Mograin, stated, drawing his own weapon and pointing it at Voldemort, "then send forth your champion and face me in single combat!"

"We don' have time for this sort'a nonsense!" the dwarf complained, "let's just run 'em through and be done wit it!"

"Silence!" Mograin retorted, silencing his comrade, "Kel'Thuzad wants their leader alive, and by the right of single combat that is my demand, the consigning of Nobu'tan to our custody, and the total surrender of your forces."

"There is no promise you can make that I will trust you to honor, Death Knight!" Nobu'tan shouted from his position, and Voldemort was in complete agreement. Even if he defeated this warrior, there was no stopping the rest from just attacking anyway, and they would have gained nothing.

"How about the fact that if you do not accept, we will blight over every inch of ground, destroying it completely and preventing you from making use of anything outside your precious mountain ever again?" the Elf replied, and Voldemort could sense the smirk that did not appear on the covered face.

Nobu'tan glowered, and Voldemort felt the eyes of the demonic man on him, "Destroy them utterly," was the command, and he felt the banshee agree fully inside him. Commanding his mount forward, Voldemort studied his opponent. There was no other focus that the man wielded, and therefore Voldemort guessed that his power lay in the weapon he held. It was a curious two-handed sword, etched with skulls all along the blade and glowing with the energy of death.

It would be a powerful upgrade for him to take up when this one was slain."For the Lich King!" the Death Knight cried, and charged forward, swinging the sword with incredible speed. Voldemort blocked with Rivendare's sword, and felt the vibrations of the mighty clash shoot through his body.

If he had still been alive, the force it of might have wrenched the blade from his arms, or worse, but his magically empowered body withstood, and they grappled for dominance in their first clash, before breaking apart and circling each other on their steeds, looking for an opening.

Voldemort tested a few simple spells, but many were simply nullified by the powerful protections on his opponent, while others were reduced to the point that they did little in terms of effect. Whatever armor that this one wore, it was heavily enchanted by a powerful sorcerer, easily rivaling those of earth that had come with the Stormreavers.

They clashed again, and this time Voldemort was not as prepared to take the overwhelming force behind the massive weapon. He was knocked cleanly from his mount, and the skeletal warhorse backed away. Voldemort rose slowly, layering unholy protections over himself, and when he was ready, he sprinted at the mounted warrior.

The massive, glowing sword rose, and Voldemort made to dodge to the side, but everything suddenly froze around him. He could not move, and the falling sword had halted in midair. In fact, everything had stopped, except for a single figure just behind the horseman. The massive armored figure came into view, and Voldemort realized with a jolt that this figure was the Lich King.

"You have grown powerful… Death Knight…" the shuddering voice emanated from the dark helmet, "and the time is now for you to serve your true master!" Dark power started to emanate from Rivendare's blade, seeping into the rotten flesh of Voldemort, and he felt the overwhelming control of the master of death.

The banshee inside roared in fury and everything suddenly leapt back into movement. The Lich King vanished, but as Voldemort completed his dodge, he felt the control of the tyrant over him, compelling him to stop attacking his ally and fellow Death Knight, and instead turn upon the warlock, and kill him for Lord Kel'Thuzad.

While the Lich Lord may want the warlock alive, Voldemort's knowledge had been taken by the Lich King, and he knew that it would prove too difficult a task to capture and hold Potter all the way to the floating citadel far to the north.

"Embrace the will of the Lich King!" the Death Knight said, waving the massive runeblade over his head, and Voldemort felt his will leave him. Potter would die.

Turning toward the young man, Voldemort advanced, raising his weapon, even as the curse that bound him to the boy kicked in and froze him in place. Within himself, three wills now battled for dominance. Potter's curse vied with the Lich King directly, while the banshee sought to worm her way in deeper during the conflict, and be able to influence him more directly.

The strain of it seemed as though it would drive Voldemort mad. He had long become unaware of minor hurts that pain was a foreign and debilitating sensation, burning his mind and causing him to want to scream.

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Nobu'tan could see that something had affected Voldemort, trying and failing to turn him against Nobu'tan and the Dark Horde.

Seizing the opportunity of the former dark lord's distraction, the warlock spread his arms wide, throwing out a wide arc of flames, pressuring the encroaching undead to fall back. "Recover Voldemort," he ordered, and the Dark Horde Death Knights obeyed, taking their leader and falling back to the mountain.

The four horseman of the Scourge fell back, even as their horde of ghouls and other undead surged forward. Green flames flying in all directions, Nobu'tan slowly back away. Their attempt to push out had failed, and now his most powerful champion was incapacitated by some means he did not know.

The games slammed shut behind him, sealing them back in the fortress once more. Nobu'tan listened to the screeching ghouls for a few moments, contemplating the situation. Kel'Thuzad wanted him, desperately, and would stop at nothing to crush everything that he cared about and capture or kill him.

"Well, then, if he wants me so badly, I will go to him, and crush his precious citadel myself." Nobu'tan said to himself. But he doubted that any way of attacking the floating citadel would be easily negated, let alone finding where it was in the first place.

An orc appeared, looking confused and bothered by something, "Lord Nobu'tan," he said, "there is a group of knights outside our northern gate, who demand an audience."

"What kind of knights?" Nobu'tan asked, curious.

"Paladins, bearing the banners of the Argent Dawn…" the orc replied.

"Admit them…" Nobu'tan said, not fully satisfied with the answer. This was a faction he did not know, and for them to so brazenly come to his domain, in the middle of a siege, bore at least some merit to their courage.

Following the messenger, Nobu'tan crossed the massive causeway to the Searing Gorge side of the Mountain, just as the strangely mix group arrived. Nobu'tan was surprised to find that not only humans, but dwarves, orcs and even a troll were in their company, all wearing the white tabards and plate armor of their faction.

"You are bold to come to my door, and demand to speak with me," Nobu'tan said, doing nothing to hinder the power of the Fel that flowed from him naturally. The leader, a human with an eyepatch, was unfazed.

"We do not seek quarrel with you, Nobu'tan of the Dark Horde, but with the Scourge of undeath that knocks on your very doorstep." He said, "I am Maxwell Tyrosus, leader of the Argent Dawn, and sworn enemy of the Lich King and his minions."

"What do you want of me then, paladin?" Nobu'tan asked, noting that the man had suppressed a considerable gift in controlling holy magic.

"Rally your forces with ours, and assist us in driving the Scourge from these lands, so we may speed our way to Stormwind, which is also under assault from these vile creatures." Lord Maxwell responded.

"You know I am no ally of Stormiwnd," Nobu'tan pointed out, but the paladin brushed the concern aside.

"You are a denizen of Azeroth," he said, "the safety of our world concerns you and your Dark Horde just as much as everyone else. The adage is that the enemy of my enemy is my friend, however briefly."

The passion in the man's voice was the deciding factor. "Very well, Lord Maxwell," Nobu'tan said, smirking, "We will rally with your Argent Dawn, but I demand in turn a favor of you once this campaign is completed."

"We will discuss it when the time is right," the paladin said, stepping forward to shake hands with the warlock, "I want your bravest and strongest warriors at the southern gate within the hour. This siege ends."

Glancing to the side at several orc warriors, Nobu'tan noticed the strangely awed expression of their faces as the paladin and his entourage passed. Anyone who gained the trust of Nobu'tan was a force to take note of, this was true, but there was something more here.

"You there, rally our elite warriors and join with the paladin at the southern gate, for the Horde!" Nobu'tan snapped, starling the orcs into action.

He departed, wanting to have a good point of view. This was something he wanted to see personally. Arriving at the rear gate first, Nobu'tan spotted the paladin giving his men their final orders. "Do not fear. That which lies beyond these gates will only grow stronger on your bitter emotions. Your devotion to the light will weaken them, and they will burn before our righteousness!"

The Dark Horde warriors assembled quickly, forming ranks behind the Paladin and his allies, "The time is now!" Maxwell shouted to the whole group, "Servants of the Dark Horde, you are our enemies no longer. The Light shines within us all, and the Scourge is the enemy of all life. Steel your passion, focus your convictions. Fight for home, and family, and your lives! For all Azeroth!" the paladin shouted,

"Lok'tar!" the warlord in charge of the regiment shouted in return, signaling a hailstorm of cheers and shouts from the orcish ranks.

"Open the gate, and may the Light have mercy on those poor wretches outside!" Maxwell ordered, and the stone slabs once again swung open.

"Argent Dawn, Attack!" Maxwell shouted, his magical aura being unleashed before and around him, a calming force that focused those around him to greater defensive awareness. Even the rage of Nobu'tan orc warriors was subdued, and they fought mindfully, never letting themselves grow too bloodthirsty or out of control.

"Fight on, Brothers!" Maxwell shouted, speaking to them all as they carved their way through the endless tide, the power of the Paladin's light magic leading the way.

Nobu'tan was impressed. The battlefield prowess of the paladin was great, and he commanded utter devotion from his warriors, even the conscripts of the Dark Horde. And not one soldier was left behind. Lord Maxwell himself healed many wounds that the orcs did sustain, and kept their band together as they pushed through the horde before them.

"Wolf riders!" Nobu'tan shouted, magnifying his voice to be heard deep within the mountain, "Reinforce the front, and protect the Argent Dawn with your lives!"

The howls that replied echoed through Blackrock Mountain and his cavalry, Blackrock wolf riders, charged forward, the massive beasts carrying powerful orcish warriors swiftly down the ramp to join with the warriors at the front.

Nobu'tan shot more sparks into the air, and as one his warlocks, mages, and siege weaponry recommenced their bombardments. Dragon riders swooped overhead, even as Nobu'tan stepped out of his fortress personally. His guard of Ogre Magi surrounded him, and they made their way to the ashy ground of the Burning Steppes.

"Channel you power, support our forces, and prevent the enemy from finding a gap to flank us," Nobu'tan ordered, and the half dozen ogres acknowledged, leveling their bolstering magic upon the entire front, Argent Dawn included, and caused the lust of blood to flow.

"Rise up sons of the Dark Horde!" Nobu'tan shouted, firing spells from the rear to support his warriors, "Blood and Glory await us!"

The enemy fell back in waves, and the glowing power of the paladin and his Argent Dawn seemed to magnify with every soldier that fought at their side. Amani troll warriors were now spilling onto the battlefield, their axes proving deadly to the still living necromancers that were trying to reinforce their undead legions.

Soon enough, the at one time seeming unending hordes of the dead started to withdraw, and broke into a full retreat. The frost wyrms departed, leaving the floating necropolis exposed to the black drakes and their riders, and soon enough the entire structure was brought down and destroyed.

"Victory!" Maxwell shouted over the din of Dark Horde warriors, "We have victory!"

The warcrys echoed through the entire ashy valley as the Dark Horde celebrated defeating the Scourge forces. Even as his warriors filed back toward the mountain to a well earned rest and food, Nobu'tan approached the Argent Dawn warriors.

"We will be departing for Stormwind within the hour," Maxwell said, turning as the orc-raised human approached, "what if your request of us?"

"The Dark Horde is significantly low on the wielders of your light, and we are more than aware of the strength that such wielders possess. Teach some of my orcs to be warriors of your power. Train them to be paladins." Nobu'tan said sincerely.

The paladin look at him, doubt in his eyes as he searched for the trick in Nobu'tan's face. Finding no deception, he raised his eyebrows, "I admit I am surprised to hear that from a warlock." Maxwell said, smiling, "While I do not have the time to commit to such an endeavor at this time, when we return from Stormwind, I will charge some of my brothers to the cause of granting the orcs the power and majesty of the Light. Perhaps they will be part of the bridge that mends this wounded world."

"I would sent some of my Horde with you," Nobu'tan added, "but I fear the denizens of Stormwind would not take kindly to orcs storming their city to clear it of the dead."

"No, I don't think they would," Maxwell said with a chuckle.

"Seek out Lady Malfoy and her son," Nobu'tan said, taking a bit of a risk in naming his confidants, but he suspected that the neutrality of this paladin spoke of a greater calling than faction adherence. "They will direct you to those that will help you the most."

"I thank you for the trust," Maxwell said, turning to swing up into the saddle of his steed, "in the meantime, I urge you to cease your provoking of the Horde in the north. The Forsaken are a dangerous foe at the best of times, and I fear that you are weakening the strength of the defenders of that region."

"I will consider it…" Nobu'tan replied, shutting down that line of conversation before it started. He might respect the Paladin for his strength and bravery, but in wisdom he would keep his own council.

"Until our return journey then, farewell Nobu'tan, chieftain of the Stormreavers and Lord of the Dark Horde." Maxwell said, only mildly surprising the warlock with how much of his reputation was known.

He was aware that, in his despair and foolish actions as of late, he had more than made it known that he was in command of the Dark Horde, and revealed many other secrets that in a saner state he would have clung to for all he was worth.

But once revealed, they could not be hidden again, and therefore he was forced to play out this scenario as it was. He turned to head back to the safety of Blackrock Mountain. He had a Death Knight to see, and a strange curse to break before they could effectively plan their next move against Kel'Thuzad and his Scourge forces.

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Voldemort could feel the tension between commanding magic flowing over him. With the target of the Lich King's hatred not present, the Scourgelord's influence wasn't as debilitating, but still enough of an overriding presence that the former earthly dark lord could no nothing in the face of the contradicting orders he was given.

Because of this, there was something building up inside of the Death Knight, like a pressurized bubble of magic formed from all three outside influences vying for power. The agony was nearly unbearable, and he wasn't sure he wanted to know what would happen if the power peaked.

But then the unfortunate happened: Nobu'tan reentered the room, and the order of the Lich King intensified. The man was speaking with his other Death Knights, and Voldemort couldn't hear anything over the clamor of the Lich Kings voice demanding that he kill the Lord of the Stormreavers, mixing with the magical restraints that prevented that exact command from happening.

Like chains pulled taught, the entire system was starting to splinter at the weakest link. "Well, this is interesting," the banshee possessing him said, deliberately poking at that link, the tentative grasp of his own mind from his foci to the body that was formerly his own.

"If you kill Nobu'tan, Sylvanas would be pleased, but if you fell to the will of the Lich King, it would be disastrous…" the spirit Elf mused, as though control over what happened was hers to dictate. "I think we will see what happens if you lose control of your body completely, and the shattering of your soul would open the way for me to take full control. That will be the best result I think…"

And with her pointed, limited strength, the banshee drove deeply at the connection of Voldemort's mind. Mentally screaming at the pain of the threatening nonresistance, Voldemort felt the strain of powers between all parties started to boil over.

The scepter holding his soul blazed brilliantly and Voldemort screamed. "My will is my own!" he shouted, feeling the tethers to foreign powers snapping all around him as his magic flared to life. The Lich King's strength faded and Rivendare's weapon crumbled to dust in his hand. The banshee shrieked and was destroyed utterly, and finally the bond between him and Nobu'tan was nullified by the magical backlash that freed the Death Knight.

His will was free, and he could do whatsoever he pleased. Realizing that he had fallen to the ground, Voldemort slowly looked up and around at the concerned dead faces of his Death Knights, and finally landed on Nobu'tan… no, Potter. Rage squeezed him, and he lunged at the man, no weapon in his hand but the willingness to kill etched into his fractures and mended soul.

"Enough!" the warlocks commanded, and while the voice of the warlock held no sway over Voldemort, he nevertheless slowed and halted, his dead hand inches from the warlock's throat.

"I can see that you are freed at last from anything binding you, including my own spellwork." Nobu'tan said, unflinching at the closeness of the Death Knight, "What will you do now? Make enemies of the Dark Horde, or continue in our partnership, as equals rather than as a subservient?"

"Equal?" Voldemort retorted mockingly, "since when is anyone who allies with you truly equal?"

Stepping back regardless, Voldemort surveyed his followers, "I will be here, as always, but do not think you can order me around like your attack dog any longer…" he said, turning away, "I expect more Necrolytes to be sent to my temple in the swamps, and we will train them to fight for you."

"As you wish, Lord Voldemort," Nobu'tan replied, moving aside, "when we have a plan of attack on the Scourge stronghold I will send for you…"

Voldemort glared back, but the warlock was unfazed, "We both know you want revenge just as much as I do, it would be more insulting to try and leave you out of our attack."

Voldemort huffed, "fair enough," he said, passing through the doorway and followed by his Death Knights.

He stopped just past the door however, "Next strike against the Forsaken, I will lead it," Voldemort demanded, "I have a personal dispute with their leader."

"You might have to be put in the running against myself and Lucius for that," Nobu'tan replied sarcastically, "but I will be sure to let you know when we decide to visit them in repayment of their many affronts."

The Death Knight departed, heading for the ridgeline pass that would return him and his people to the southern swamps. As they rode, Voldemort took a quick survey of himself from within. The eerie silence from the lack of the banshee was odd after so long, but at the same time a welcome reprieve of a foreign will to fight against.

Now that he was master of his body once more, there would be a great many changes to how he went about conducting the Death Eaters. He was not content with their little sunken temple in the depths of the swamp. There was a perfectly good looking, abandoned tower just to the west of the swamps, and Voldemort could sense the immense arcane power that swirled around it.

It would make a more suitable base of operations for his forces, and a much larger region of control for him alone. With his small number of loyal Death Knights; however, he wasn't certain if it was worth the attempt to take it just yet.

He may have to wait until his Necrolytes were finally sent to him by Nobu'tan, and then with their might combined, march on the tower. Even still, there was much that they could do to strengthen their necromantic powers. The dark forest beyond the barren mountain pass was ripe for the plundering, and rich with wildlife and humans to slay and raise as undead warriors for their own forces.

And if they too were preoccupied with the undead Scourge, then a few rogue Death Knights would not be noticed outside the main attack group, and their actions pinned squarely upon the Scourge threat itself rather than anyone being the wiser and drawing their own conclusions.

Plan forming in his mind, Voldemort's eyes glinted red in the gloom. His own army of the dead, specially trained and prepared for the inevitable war that would come with the Lich King. The fool had thought to control the Death Knight, but had inevitably given him much knowledge along with his freedom.

This was only the beginning.

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Theodore Nott was certain that something was up; he could sense it in the air. But with the desolate landscape was as empty as ever. While there was a great deal of strange activity well to the east, across the sea, Theodore did not feel that s the source of his discomfort.

That was why, when the strange Minotaur-creature appeared, bearing a white flag of parley, he admitted him into Thunder Axe Fortress without questioning the creature beforehand.

"Who are you?" Theodore asked of the warrior, as soon as they were secluded in the main stronghold of the fortress.

"I am Arnak, of the Grimtotem tribe of the Tauren," the massive bull said, gruffly looking around as though judging everything he saw, "I bring word to the leader of the Dark Horde who resides here."

"I am he who leads the Dark Horde here," Theodore said, inwardly cursing that he had yet to truly make an orc identity for himself. "From whom is this message from?"

"The High Crone of the Grimtotem: Magatha Grimtotem," Arnak said, as though the name held some special reverence. "She has seen that the time will come that our tribe will need to find allies unrelated to the Horde of Thrall and the Bloodhoof Tauren, and has sent me to be an observer and report to her on the strength and power of the Dark Horde."

Theodore raised an eyebrow. So this warrior was sent to judge them for the benefit of this Crone, and report whether they were worthy of the Grimtotem or not. "I see… and what is the benefit to us for the Grimtotem to join the Dark Horde?"

"We are the greatest and strongest tribe of Tauren in Kalimdor," Arnak said boastfully, "and currently we have informants able to hear the inner council of the Bloofhoof, and through them the orc Warchief."

"As a token of good will, I am told to warn you that the Horde seeks to attack this place very soon," Arnak added, looking pointedly at Theodore, as though seeking a reaction.