Many thanks to those who've been reviewing, I take great delight in reading what you have to say, and responding to questions. please enjoy the next chapter! ~F
Chapter 111
The Pieces Moving
Jaina had not been happy with being summoned to escort Danath Trollbane to Stormwind, not when it meant leaving the Prophet Velen in the Dark Horde Fortress. She trusted the old being when he said he would be safe, and that Nobu'tan would not slaughter a guest that only wished to speak with him; however, she still was in a poor mood when she arrived back at Honor Hold, where a delegation of the Sons of Lothar, led by Danath himself, waited.
"Ah, Lady Proudmoore, good to see you again so soon," the old field commander said, his dashing smile softening even Jaina icy irritation.
"I presume you are ready to travel to Stormwind?" she asked.
"Yes, and hopefully most of our mages will be able to connect their own magic back to Azeroth, and we will not be forced to rely on you for transportation in the future," Trollbane added, nodding in understanding.
"Then let's get started," Jaina said, channeling her magic.
"I still can't believe that little Varian is all grown up and King of the remaining humans of Azeroth," Danath said, even as the portal rippled to life, revealing the spires of Stormwind. "It feels like I've been gone for over a lifetime."
"There is much history that you need to catch up on," Jaina admitted, gesturing for them to precede her through the portal. The Honor Hold Mages took careful note of the portal, tasting it with their own magic and nodding to themselves. Jaina smiled. They would be able to craft their own portals from now on, and her services were no longer needed.
Still, rather than turn and return to Velen, she suspected that she'd be needed by Varian in this moment, and went herself as well, appearing in the central garden of Stormwind Keep.
A delegation of Varian's design awaited them, along with the King and his son. Anduin approached even as Varian went to Danath, "Aunt Jaina, it's good to see you," the young man said, smiling up at her.
Jaina placed a hand on the boy's head, "It's good to see you as well, Anduin."
The booming laughter of Danath broke through the respectful silence, "Varian, as I live and breathe, come here young Lion!" the Lord of Stromgarde embraced the King of Stormwind, laughing as he did so.
"Who is that?" Anduin asked, curious.
"Lord Danath Trollbane, prince of Stromgarde, and a close friend of your father, something of an uncle I believe, like how I am you Aunt," Jaina explained, even as the King and exiled Lord approached.
"Is this your pup, Varian?" Danath said, beaming as he looked down at Anduin, "I am Danath, and it's more than a pleasure to meet you, little prince!" he said, ruffling the young boy's hair affectionately.
For someone grown in the prim and proper court of the nobility of Stormwind, Jaina wondered how Anduin would feel about the brisk and improper Danath, but the boy was beaming underneath the blush of embarrassment as he tried valiantly to right his hair.
"Lord Trollbane, I am glad that you came with such haste," Varian said, trying to regain some control of the situation, "There is much to discuss."
"Hopefully with a great deal of wine and food," Danath suggested, "it's been ages since I or my men have had a good, proper feast."
Even Varian couldn't fight back the smile that the old commander seemed to spread as an infectious force. "Of course…" he said, leading the entire delegation from Honor Hold inside.
Jaina followed them with her eyes, until another familiar figure caused her to pause. Draco Malfoy was there, watching her as the armored figures passed, and he smiled in acknowledgement before following the King of Stormwind.
Frowning at the small flip her heart made at the sight of the blond man, Jaina cooled herself. It wouldn't be proper to follow what she desired, so soon after the man had lost his beloved in such a drastic and violent manner.
"Lady Proudmoore, so good of you to be here," another voice said, and Jaina looked up to see Lady Malfoy, carrying her daughter in her arms.
"I see you are doing well also," Jaina said, smiling at the mother and her child.
"Lady Narcissa has been acclimating Aurora to the sound and sights of Stormwind," Anduin explained, pride at his assistance clear on his face.
"And I'm sure you are being a valiant knight and making sure that they are safe as they trek around the city," Jaina said, making the boy all the more pleased at his contribution.
"Shall we go in then, and see what the summons was regarding?" Lady Malfoy suggested, even as her daughter started to squirm in her arms. The little girl clearly desired to move on her own, and while the gardens were perfectly safe, Jaina knew that they were a primary crossroads for those who working inside the keep, and a mother's priority was the safety of her child.
"I have some suspicions of what is about to transpire," Narcissa said, drawing close to Jaina as they entered the shade of the Keep, "but perhaps you could enlighten my further with some of the details I do not know…"
While Jaina personally had little knowledge of what Varian had summoned these individuals regarding, she had no problem informing Lady Malfoy about who was in attendance and where they had come from. She seemed particularly interested in Lord Trollbane, but Jaina chalked it up to the man making an impression upon all with his entrance.
What she was surprised to fine when they entered the main hall of the Keep, was an entire delegation of dwarves, both Bronzebeard, and even the fiery Dark Iron. Jaina knew that the exiled clan of dwarves had sought refuge from their cousins when the Dark Horde had fully claimed Blackrock Mountain. Despite the great animosity between the houses, the fact that they were family overrode the old hatreds when the Dark Irons had nowhere else to go, but Jaina suspected that the truce was an uneasy one with the Dark Irons in Ironforge.
"Thank you all for coming before making any decisions," Varian said, sitting and gesturing for the others to gather around.
"The decision is already made, with all due respect," one of the Dark Irons said, standing, "We will be marching on the Burning Steppes, with or without the Alliance assistance."
Jaina felt Narcissa and Draco tense at that bit of news, but they were covered by the general sentiment of unease as the fiery dwarf spoke. "Despite the recent bouts of cooperation between the factions, it is still of importance to remember that this Dark Horde seeks to rebuilt the tyrannical, warmongering armies that devastated the entire continent in the first two wars. Do not forget, King Varian, that your own father was killed because of underestimating the ferocity and dark cunning of these orcs."
Whether Varian was insulted by the dwarf's words, he did not show it, but waited for the volcanic temper to finally simmer. "I understand the personal hatred that your people have for the Dark Horde. That is the reason that I have called this meeting at all, rather than dismissing your leader's concerns and continuing to try and forge some manner of truce."
"I admit, I am surprised that the Horde of old ended up breaking into two separate forces," Danath said, stroking his beard as he listened, "I know that both are now present in the Hellfire Peninsula, and while there have been no outward signs of aggression, I find it hard to believe that after two generations of nonstop war the Alliance would seek any manner of peace with those monsters."
"Times have drastically changed since the expedition into Draenor," Jaina chimed in, "the Third War alone has shown us that the orcs are capable of more honor than we ever expected of them,"
"Few orcs are like Warchief Thrall, Lady Proudmoore," the Dark Iron representative countered, sparks forming in his beard, "the Dark Horde is whom we are discussing here, and they have shown their true nature, despite playing nice when the entire world was threatened. We demand out homelands returned, and if blood must be shed, then so be it!"
"But is it worth risking all out war between the Alliance and the Dark Horde in the midst of the Dark Portal reopening?" one of the Bronzebeard Dwarves commented, having followed the discussion in silence till now. "Our factions are currently united against the Legion, if we turn on each other while facing that foe, we may well find ourselves in risk of losing everything…"
The Dark Iron representative looked ready to start shouting once more, but Varian held up a hand, silencing any further speaking, "We understand the plight of the Dark Irons, and we agree that your lands must be retaken, but it does not mean that we can do so at this present moment. The mountain is heavily fortified, and with their supply lines extending as far north as Arathi, we cannot hope to outlast them in a siege."
"What is this about Arathi?" Danath stated, perking up.
"Didn't yeh know?" the Dark Iron said, smirking, "The Dark Horde has claimed all the lands of Arathi, and took Stromgarde as their own…"
The fiery heir of Trollbane turned to Varian, "How long were you going to wait until telling me this?" he asked.
"It was going to come up in this discussion sooner or later," Varian said, sighing, "I had hoped to mention it sooner, but yes, the Dark Horde has taken the whole of your ancestral lands, forcing out the remnants of both Stromgarde and Alterac from the region."
Danath closed his eyes, seeming to try and center himself. "So I am in the same circumstances as the Dark Iron Dwarves… and still I understand your position, Varian…" he said slowly, "the Legion is a far greater threat than the theft of our lands. There will be time for vengeance, but it is not now."
Jaina felt the tension in the room finally start to dissipate. "Despite this," Varian continued, "I see no reason not to start preparations for when that time comes. Specifically regarding supplying the Dark Irons in a place where they can strike from, and stockpiling the resources to effectively threaten Nobu'tan and his Dark Horde."
Jaina caught Varian's eye, and the glances between Draco and Narcissa were growing rather conspicuous, however those ignorant of the Malfoy's connections and loyalties were noticed nothing.
"We will be holding you to your word, in that case," the Dark Iron said, finally settling down for a full plan of logistics and movement, chiefly revolving around moving supplies up the Deeprun Tram to Ironforge, and then over ground to a location decided upon by the Dark Iron refugees. They were currently staying in the area around Loch Modon, but were slowly pushing themselves back into the Badlands, where there was an unfortunate Dark Horde presence.
Jaina had heard that they forced the Horde out of the region as well, but had not taken the time to really investigate the political situation between the dwarves and their new neighbors.
In due time, the meeting was adjourned, and the dwarves took their leave of the Keep. "I think we shall stay around Stormwind for a time, before returning to Honor Hold," Danath said, looking longing as he gazed out at the city, "It's been too long since we've been around civilization."
"We'll speak later about the Arathi issue," Varian promised, bidding the older commander farewell. That left Jaina, Anduin, Draco, and Narcissa, with Aurora bouncing happily in her mother's lap.
"We have much to discuss, regarding what has just been revealed," the King of Stormwind said, gesturing for the others to follow him to a more private sitting room.
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Garona had felt out of place and on edge hanging around Zeth'Gor. The Fel orcs were worse even than those untouched by the additional dose of demon blood, and she was itching to get into the field and do something again. Her blood had been surging while the Dark Horde sacked Hellfire Citadel, and it had awoken her to the old days, when her skills had been more than sought after.
Nobu'tan had casually mentioned that he would be delighted if Garona, and Med'an, settled in Blackrock Mountain, and she took up the position of spymaster of the Dark Horde, training their assassins and spies and being the brain of their information network. It was a tempting offer, and Garona was certain that inevitably the little pup would have his way, but for the moment she wanted to reinvigorate her love of the work here on the front lines.
While Nobu'tan was away, the hulking ogre lord, Teg'Ramm, was in charge, and while Garona was ill at ease with any ogre being in charge, this one seemed far different from those like Cho'Gall. Perhaps it was the sincerity that the ogre spoke with, and the fact that both minds seemed truly to be acting in tandem, rather than the split madness that some ogre mages suffered under, but the ogre was more approachable for Garona.
The Forest Trolls had returned from their mission to the west of Hellfire, and it seemed that their reports were not overwhelmingly positive. She kept an eye on the hushed conversation from her small section of the main chamber, where she was sharpening her knives, a habit that had resurfaced since the Battle of the Shifting Sands. She had gone far too long without accepting her skills and living according to her own designs, out of fear. No more.
"Lady Halforcen," the ogre mage called over to her, breaking her concentration and drawing her attention. The trolls had departed, and Teg'Ramm alone remained. "We have a mission for you, if you are willing." The second head said, continuing the thought of the first.
"I'm listening," Garona said, smirking inwardly as she continued her work on her weapons, the sharpening stone sending small sparks as she ran it over the edges of her blades.
"The Amani and Witherbark Trolls have had little success in the swamps to our west," the ogre explained, "there are Naga and other creatures there that they are not as familiar with evading, and they have been unable to glean much information as to what they are up to…"
"And so you want to send the best, to investigate these Naga and their scheme?" Garona supplied, to which the ogre mage nodded.
She brought up one of the daggers, scrutinizing the edge she had been grinding, and nodded, finding it and the mission acceptable, "I will leave immediately." She stated, stowing the stone in a small box that was reserved for her use, and rising to her feet.
"I thank you for your willingness, Lady Halforcen," the ogre replied, "having someone who is so respected by Lord Nobu'tan is an honor."
Garona rolled her eyes. She understood the facets of this creature very simply. Devotion, purer than the devotion that Cho'Gall had had for Gul'dan, and without any of the strings attached to it that the Twilight Hammer had back in the old Horde. The scars upon this ogre's chest were more than signifying that he had already been willing to offer his life to the cause, something that the mad ogre mage would never have done. Casually, Garona spit to the side, disgracing even the memory of the mad ogre that had tried to kill her son.
Taking a wolf from the stables for speed over the cracked and dying red landscape, Garona only allowed herself to enjoy the wind through her hair once she was well out of sight of Zeth'Gor. The pounding of the wolf's paws against the ground was a familiar feeling, and Garona allowed herself to enjoy the simply pleasure of the speed the beast generated.
Already she was planning her strategy for when she entered the marshes. The wolf knew the way home, and would have no problem navigating itself back to Zeth'Gor. Far overhead, she spotted wind riders of Thrall's Horde. Garona wondered where such a large grouping of fliers were heading, but they were veering further south than her destination, so she paid no further attention to it.
Within an hour of leaving Zeth'Gor, Garona could already see the edges of the Zangermarsh, and drowned all other thoughts from her mind except her mission, and what was required for it.
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Thrall felt the elements of Outland, formerly the homeland of his people. From his vantage he could see the life struggled and found its path through this world, and devastated though it was, the elements were still there, willing to aid those who were worthy of their call.
Even as their group started toward the edge of Hellfire and Terrorkar, Thrall felt more than saw the way before them. There was a massive buildup of elemental energy farther in that direction, where he presumed that Nagrand would be.
But an explosion of flames far below them captured his attention. The unnaturalness of the gout stank of the Fel, but despite every urge to ignore it, Thrall felt the elements cry out for him to act.
Something powerful was fighting down there, and whatever it was needed assistance. "Kor'kron! We need to land, someone needs our assistance!" he shouted, already knowing that they wouldn't be fast enough. Kicking himself out of the saddle, Thrall called upon the elements to guide him, even as the Doomhammer crackled with lightning in his hands.
Med'an cried out as Thrall allowed himself to freefall, but the Shaman heeded a higher calling than protecting the boy. The ruin of Draenor called to him, and he had to answer. As he fell closer, he could clearly see the lone figure that was being ambushed by a host of strange creatures, seemingly withered and distorted, but perfectly capable of fighting in such large numbers.
The spirits of the wind surged upward from the ground, buffeting the combatants and cushioning Thrall's decent so that he slammed into the ground, unleashing the lightning of the Doomhammer and blasting scores of the attackers in all directions.
Rising to his feet, Thrall felt power surging through him. He did not know why the planet sought him to fight here, but he would do so. Rushing forward, elements cracked and boomed around him as he laid into the attacking, misshaped creatures. The Doomhammer sang as it flew through the air with every swing, and thundercloud gathered over him as he battled.
The creatures reoriented themselves to fight both Thrall and the unknown figure, who was separated from the Warchief by the host of ambushers. Lightning shot down from the clouds, and Thrall caught its pure radiance on the head of the Doomhammer, before throwing the mighty weapon with all his strength toward the mob of figures.
Those unable to move fast enough were crushed as the massive warhammer blasted itself through their ranks, momentarily revealing the other combatant. Thrall paused, baffled at the sight of Nobu'tan, Lord of the Dark Horde, alone in the Hellfire Pinnesula, and the thought that the elements demanded that he protect this man who by all rights ought to have been his most hated foe.
But he had no time to contemplate it further, as their enemies rushed them from all sides. "Spirit of the Wind, heed me!" Thrall chanted, pulling the Doomhammer back to him as powerful blasts of wind changed the massive weapons trajectory.
"Strength of the earth, rise!" he shouted, slamming the sparking hammer into the ground, and channeling his magic into the earth, raising spikes in all directions. Nobu'tan would not fight alone this day, although Thrall knew not what Draenor herself sought from the warlock.
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Nobu'tan couldn't believe how disgustingly weak he appeared. Whether these creatures were waiting in ambush for travelers, or out hunting, he had yet to determine, but their poisoned arrows brought down his dreadsteed just as swiftly. The demonic horse had reared, throwing Nobu'tan to the cracked earth as it vanished back to Xoroth with a baleful cry of pain, leaving Nobu'tan alone to deal with these attackers.
Instantly, Nobu'tan tried to summon demons to defend himself, but with a sparking crackles, the spells were disrupted and failed before his eyes. Nobu'tan couldn't explain how it happened, but as he rolled to dodge the pouncing of a small, insectoid, creature that responded to the commands of the ambushers.
Rising to his feet, Nobu'tan lashed back with a blast of Felfire, scorching the ground and sending the strange beast scampering backward on its clattering legs. Having confirmed that the Fel hadn't abandoned him, Nobu'tan made the attempt once more to summon reinforcements, only to feel a surge of Nether energy strike him in the back and prevent the spell once more.
Spinning around, flames in hand to strike whoever was daring to prevent him from casting, Nobu'tan's eyes widened as he beheld the writhing storm of energy that had crept up upon their battle. All summoning magic was being devoured by this void storm, and while Nobu'tan could have worked out a means to control the storm, he lacked the time to do so and hold off the attackers all around him.
Arrows flew at him from all directions, and Nobu'tan ducked, channeling the Fel into the dead ground beneath him, creating walls of Green-encrusted earth all around him.
The Nether storms concerned him far more than the ambushers. Through them, any with power to manipulate the magic of this dying world could watch, if their attention was garnered. Nobu'tan dared not use any of his overwhelming abilities because of this, as the last thing he wished to do was bring the eyes of the Legion directly upon him even as he was going to meet with their enemies.
Thusly limited in how he was willing to fight, the two dozen foes suddenly became a realistic threat to him, even as the archers sent volley's of arrows over his barrier. Distracted by his musings, Nobu'tan hissed as one of the poison-tipped projectiles bit into his flesh, spreading the toxin into his blood.
It wasn't fatal; a small blessing, but the paralytic in the venom would start working if he exerted himself too much, and Nobu'tan knew he had to end this fight quickly so that he could purge the poison from his system.
Blasting the walls outward with a wave of force, Nobu'tan started picking off targets one by one, hurling bolts and blasts of flame as quickly as he dared move his arms. Despite only being hit the one time, the poison seemed to be very potent, and within moments the Grand Warlock could feel himself becoming sluggish.
Even as he started whittling them down, more hunters appeared and joined the fight, clearly signaled from the battle to join their allies. One of the beasts leapt at Nobu'tan, and succeeded in biting down on his arm. The warlock whirled, flinging the creature off of him, and slashed it deeply with his claws.
The wound burned, and Nobu'tan realized where the venom for the arrows had come from. He fell to his knees, still fighting, but rapidly weakening. He resisted the urge to channel the Fel through him, knowing that the storm nearby would react and cause unknown chaos to any of his abilities. Briefly, he wondered if this was the very end for him, when beyond the mass of creatures assaulting him, a green blur fell from the sky with a thunderclap.
Most of the creatures on that side turned to face whatever had arrived, and the sounds of combat erupted afresh, being physically flying from the mighty swings of whatever new potential ally had arrived to save Nobu'tan.
Carefully, he pooled the Fel into his body, burning the poison from his system and leapt to his feet once more, reinvigorated to a degree. Suddenly, a massive hammer flew through the ranks of the creatures, slamming into many of them before banking sharply and returning to the massive, green hand of Warchief Thrall.
Where and how the Horde's leader had come to this place at this time, Nobu'tan had no idea, but he couldn't permit himself to even consider the implications at this time. Soon enough, between the two powerful casters and leaders, the ambushers were forced to withdrawn, their dead littering the ground as they abandoned the fight and fled.
Nobu'tan felt his weariness, magnified by the poison coursing through his veins, and couldn't stop himself from sinking to his knees once more, even as the orc crossed the short distance to him.
"Where are you injured?" the Shaman asked, and Nobu'tan lifted his head.
"P-poison…" he said, his jaw trying to lock from the paralytic.
"Hold on," Thrall said, lifting his arms. Mystical water rose from skins at the shaman's sides, coiling through the air and showering over the warlock. Nobu'tan gasped as the pressing weight of his own body started to lighten, and the poison was cleansed from him. His wounds mended as well, allowing the warlock to rise again, tired but no longer on the edge of falling catatonic.
"Why…?" He asked, burning eyes meeting the pale blue of the orc Warchief.
"I do not know…" Thrall replied, lifting the massive hammer and turning to watch as his guard landed around them, the wyverns snorting at the stench of blood and battle on the ground.
Casually, Nobu'tan observed his counterpart for the Horde. The Shaman was tall, and did not slouch with the hunch that seemed more or less universal from all his brethren. The hammer occasionally crackled with a spark of lightning, but otherwise Nobu'tan felt that there was little magical about the weapon in and of itself. Rather, the hammer was simply aligned perfectly with the world around it, and worked as a perfect channel for the shaman's abilities.
"The elements of this place have reached out to protect you. For what purpose, I cannot tell…" Thrall continued, and Nobu'tan realized that the shaman had been listening to whispers from a source that the warlock could not hear.
"So… we just part ways here, then?" Nobu'tan asked, feeling the intense awkwardness between them. The orc Warchief clearly had had no idea who he was helping when he intervened to support Nobu'tan against the ambushers.
"I suppose that would be the best course of action." The Warchief agreed, "Although I am curious as to why you, of all people, are here on your own, traveling overland."
"Well, when you're me, things often don't quite make sense to those around you," Nobu'tan said, turning and starting to walk in the direction of the forest. Once he was out of range of the Nether Storms he could summon his mount once more and make it the rest of the way to Shattrath.
"I don't suppose there is time for us to actually discuss the situation between both the Horde and the Dark Horde?" Thrall called after him.
"Unlikely," Nobu'tan said, "there is much to be done, and with all that is going on back home, I doubt we'll even meet again in neutral terms…"
"Not exactly what I had in mind," Thrall said, and Nobu'tan turned, raising an eyebrow at the touch of a threat from the serene shaman.
"There is much blood on your hands, both directly and indirectly," Thrall said, stepping forward, the hammer swinging menacingly at his side, "I do not know why this world wishes to protect you, but Azeroth cries out in pain at every move you've made there. What madness you have planned the Horde will not allow it to come to fruition."
Nobu'tan stood his ground, "You have no idea what I have in store, or even who my true enemies are." Pointing defiantly at the orc Warchief, Nobu'tan continued, "This is neither the time, nor the place for our rematch, Thrall. I suggest you hold on to your grudges, and wait for the next time our factions butt heads. I highly doubt, with your pet Banshee to the north of my lands constantly trying to provoke my wrath, that it'll be a long wait."
The Shaman halted, and Nobu'tan spied far behind him, still mounted on his wyvern, Me'dan, the son of Garona. "I will take my leave now…" he said, turning his back once more on the orc.
The orc sighed, calling once more even as Nobu'tan started down the path, "It could have been different, you know. You could have brought everything into the Horde itself, as a unified front. I doubt even Gul'dan wanted the sundering of his people."
"There is no other way," Nobu'tan replied, more to himself than the Shaman, and continued down the path on foot, even as the orc remounted and took to the air with his vanguard.
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Voldemort sent barrages of pieces flying across the board, utilizing a combined strategy of counters and aggressive movement to try and spawn a battle of attrition with the shade of the guardian.
He had begun by breaking his wall of pawns, and moving one to H3, prompting the shade to become confidant, and send a human cleric bishop to take the Death Knight's grunt at B4, throwing the massive orc Warchief into check. "As it should be," the ghost called, signaling that Voldemort had to protect the king or risk losing the game.
The guarding pawn leapt at a word, slaying the bishop and retaking the square of B4, ending the threat on Voldemort's king. An enemy footman advanced to E5, nose to nose with another of Voldemort's grunts, challenging his control of the center of the board.
Reinforcing his flank with a pawn at C3, Voldemort started to look to other avenues, smirking as the shade sought to fortify his new position in the center with a second footman at F6. He sent an orc necrolyte, representing the bishop on his side, to H3, directly threatening the shades remaining cleric, while still protected by the wolf rider knight on his back line.
Rather than take the bait, the shade advanced his previously moved pawn to F5. Voldemort wouldn't wait for another opportunity however, and attacked with the same bishop, taking the offending pawn at F5 and once again threatening the cleric. "A transparent stratagem…" the shade commented, however he still finally was forced to take the necrolyte with his own bishop.
Rather than continue the fight over the square at F5, Voldemort seized the prize he had wanted, sending the doomguard demon castle all the way across the board to flattened the conjurer queen of his opponent at D8, additionally throwing the enemy king into check. "Ahh, I should have known…" the shade lamented, before using his own castle to remove the threat to his king. "But foolish... very foolish…"
Voldemort then destroyed the cleric with his waiting grunt, shifting the line of attack to F5 fully, and smirked as the shade frowned. "A necessary sacrifice…" he said, before moving a pawn up the leftmost side of the board, to A6.
Forward Voldemort sent his remaining wolf rider, land smartly on F3, and ready to push the remaining human piece that clung to a center position. The freed water elemental rushed forward, coming to rest at D6 and protect the remaining human knight that guarded the pawn.
Voldemort guarded his most forward piece with a pawn at G4, only to be countered with a threatening footman at G6. He was forced to allow his grunt to fall out of line, and trade off with the other pawns, resulting in the shade's final footman on that side resting on G6, and freeing the second water elemental rook to move.
Rather than allow that castle to have full command of the H column, Voldemort sent a pawn forward two squares, putting it in line with his waiting wolf rider, and hindering the new castle's potential advance. Rather than head forward, it shifted to rest beside the enemy king, and threaten the wolf directly.
Therefore, Voldemort shifted the knight forward and to the right, between his and his opponent's pawns at G5. The shade's castle advanced regardless, bypassing Voldemort's knight and stopping along the line of two pawns in the fourth row. Voldemort could see the attempt to pressure his king, and castled, despite having no row of pawns to protect the front line. It still positioned his doomguard right behind the final unmoved pawn on his side of the field.
The second castle of his opponent shifted forward to D5, possibly to try and deflect attention from Voldemort's demon and entrap it. The final grunt was therefore commanded forward, where the orc warlock queen would protect it if the enemy rook took it.
The human knight leapt backward to stand in front of the shade's king, clearly anticipating the orc warlock entering the fray, but Voldemort instead withdrew his wolf rider to H3, hoping to force the enemy rook out of position.
The tactic worked, and the rook backed off to F7, allowing Voldemort to push another pawn forward to G5, and fully into enemy held territory.
The shade retaliated with its final unmoved pawn, launching it two squares to C5, and threatening the pair of pawns that Voldemort had staggered there. Rather than engage, Voldemort shored up his rightmost line with a third pawn to F4, challenging the shade to trade off rooks and pawns there.
But it seemed the ghost was starting to grow wise to Voldemort's tactics of diversion, and pursued his claiming of the orc grunt at B4, and forcing the Death Knight to retake the position with his leftmost remaining pawn. That side of the board was looking fairly thin for his forces, but it did not matter.
Voldemort was still very far ahead of his opponent, when the power of remaining pieces was considered, and he intended to make use of that fact. The shade moved his knight to C6, seeming to think that this weak side was his way toward Voldemort's king, but Voldemort took the pawn at E5 with his own, opening a potential channel to the shade's.
Granted, that required a sacrifice of his own castle, which the shade gleefully took with his own, the elemental washing the demon away in a torrent of water. The warlock, still nearby, crushed the water elemental with bolts of shadow, taking its place next to the orc warlord. "A minor concern," the shade commented, claiming the last pawn on Voldemort's left front with his knight.
But Voldemort's queen had only just started its rampage, quickly advancing two squares to threaten the final castle on the shade's faction. The shade moved the castle forward as well, thinking it safe to counter the queen with its knight's protection, and opening the real target of the Death Knight. The queen leapt through the square formerly held by the castle, skipping all the way to A8 and checking the enemy king.
The shade's castle flew backward so fast to protect the king that Voldemort practically shouted his next command, for the queen to withdraw to E4, behind the protection of a pawn and in line with the enemy king at another angle. But the shade decided to take the offensive, and threw the same castle across the board to check Voldemort's own king at D1.
Undaunted, Voldemort shifted the king forward and to the left, being forced to repeat the step again as the enemy castle backed up once to try and shepherd his king around the board. When the king was a square away; however, the castle went to the side, taking the final bishop on the board at B2, but giving Voldemort the opportunity to return to attacking. The warlock jumped to G6, shattering the last enemy pawn on that flank, and checking the human king once more.
The shade was forced at last to shift his own king to the side, settling on F8, and Voldemort moved to close a pincer by advancing a pawn to E6. The shade's castle pressured Voldemort king once more, and he advanced it toward the enemy lines. The final wolf rider was then destroyed by the rampaging water elemental, but everything was finally ready. The warlock jumped forward to F7, pinning the enemy king and supported by the single pawn.
"Checkmate…" Voldemort stated flatly, glaring coldly across the board at the shade.
"And so it ends…" the ghost acquiesced, bowing to Voldemort and vanishing, along with all the pieces, leaving the room silent. The doors at the far end creaked open, revealing the way forward. Gathering himself from the intense mental struggle that the game had provided, Voldemort ordered his force onward.
It seemed that the top of the tower was at last near, if his guess of the relative height was accurate. At the same time, the strangeness of the creatures infesting the final few floors drastically altered. It seemed that the highest floors were reserved for private rooms for the old owner of the tower, but had been overrun with strange, unnatural abominations. Upon encountering the forces of the Dark Horde, they slithered, skittered, and dragged themselves forward, howling in desire to feast upon what flesh remained on the necrolytes and Death Knights.
Nevertheless, they were crushed beneath the iron boots of Voldemort's clan, and he ascended the winding stairs to reach the very top of the tower. Entering the final set of doors, Voldemort felt jarred as the tower did not open to a wide view of the valley around them, but some endless field of floating stones and limitless space. The stone of the tower ended into a jagged, rocky place that jutted out into this void, where a single figure waited.
"Karazhan's presence radiates through the Nether… a beacon drawing in the Legion's might." The Eredar stated, turning toward the approaching force, hefting his weapons in hand.
