Many thanks to those who've read, reviewed, or joined the discussions in the discord server. You are all fantastic! Please enjoy the next chapter, and if you're interested, please go to my profile page and follow through to my Twitch and Youtube channels, as well as the Cult of Undol Discord Server (the safest Cult on the internet!). Until next time! ~F
Chapter 120
Living and Unliving Legends
Despite all appearances from the outside, Blaise was surprised at the interior of the place called the Stormspire. He couldn't quite tell, seeing the structures and lush foliage that was so starkly contrasting the wasteland just outside the shimmering energy dome, just how the Ethereals had managed to accomplish the feat without great expense or labor.
The creatures may have lacked physical eyes, but the odd silence as they passed through the various levels and markets enhanced the sensation of their group being watched. It was strange to think that they were the most outlandish things to be gazed at in those markets, however, because the goods Blaise saw that the wrapped creatures were trading were foreign enough to his eyes to warrant more attention than they.
Strange birds and creature of living mana in energy cages, sparking jewels that radiated magical power, as well as hosts of scrolls, tomes, and other texts that rivaled the largest private libraries Blaise had ever seen back on Earth. All these and more were sitting out under the artificial light, clashing terribly with the strangely pristine architecture that was quite different from the solid metal creations such as the energy dome itself.
Still, they were not here to browse the goods or study the habits of these creatures, there would be time enough for that at a future date, but for now they had to meet with the leader of the Consortium.
Rather than find the Ethereal himself waiting for them, however, they were met instead with a large metal platform, where a shimmering image of the bandaged creature was emitted.
"I am Nexus-Price Haramad. Apologies for my appearance as a hologram," the Ethereal stated, "I have so many enemies that wish me dead that it is simpler for all if I only appear in this manner to communicate with others."
"We are not offended, and quite understand the need for protection against one's enemies," Blaise said courteously.
"I am told that you wish to strike a deal with us," Haramad said, "something to do with getting you in contact with the Blood Elf leader, Kael'thas."
"Yes," Blaise affirmed, "we have business to deal with him; however, his forces are not keen to allow anyone near, even his own kin."
"Sometimes those closest to us are the biggest threats," Haramad replied, "but I think I know of something that will be of… mutual benefit, to us"
Turning in place, the hologram pointed out the rear-facing arch of the structure, where one of the massive mana collectors could be seen in the distance, "That is Manaforge Ultris, and where our people's ancient enemy, the void lord Dimensius now resides. You will aid our fighters in slaying him, and avenging the disastrous state that has befallen all of us that are now Ethereals."
"Forgive my suspicion," Blaise said, "but I fail to see how we benefit from this. It seems quite the one-sided venture."
"Perhaps in the short term," Haramad replied, "but not only will the Consotrium reward you handsomely for the effort, but remember that the Manaforges were put into function by the Blood Elves. While Dimensius remains, no power can be harvested from that forge for them. The Elves would be curious to anyone who gifted back one of their structures to them."
Blaise thought on that. It was simple, and clearly effective, if not a bit too good to be true. "Can you assure us that it will be sufficient to warrant the eyes of Kael'thas?" he asked.
"The Blood Elves are consumed with their hunt for more magic, to stave off their addictive nature to the substance," Haramad said, "They will certainly take notice when a new source of mana if handed to them freely."
Blaise nodded, it sounded legitimate enough of a strategy. "We agree, when will you be setting out to slay this creature?"
"Our forces are already assaulting the Manaforge," Haramad explained, "but the void denezins that flock around Dimensius are proving significantly more difficult to exterminate than we had thought. Your aid, and your clever magic, will be vital for the success of our forces."
"Will there be some manner of escort there for us?" Blaise questioned, "We are not familiar with this landscape, and the potential threats along the way."
"I can send one to guide you," Haramad said, even as a soft chime sounded through the building, summoning another Ethereal. "Take these fleshlings to Manaforge Ultris."
"As you wish, Nexus-Prince," the other replied.
"Speed and strength go with you," Haramad said as Blaise turned to follow their guide, "I look forward to future business with you, and your Dark Horde."
How the creature already knew of them, Blaise wasn't sure he was prepared to understand. They took their leave of the chamber, and quickly backtracked to the base of the spire, their guide taking them via the fastest route, before setting off along the road to the northeast, where they would surely clear around the massive rock formation that separated two of the larger floating chunks of the Netherstorm.
Blaise figured that with their aid, this conflict would end quickly, and with luck they would be moving on with plans to meet with the Blood Elf leadership, and finally deliver the message from Nobu'tan that Blaise carried on his person.
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Nobu'tan knew the voice of the spirit that floated before him.
"I never knew you in your orcish form, Teron Gorefiend," he said, smirking as the spirit shifted to the fiendish Death Knight he had known.
"Indeed, you were thrust upon Gul'dan after my first death, young Nobu'tan…" Teron said.
"I've been told so many stories of what happened since I was taken from Gul'dan's side…" Nobu'tan explained, stepping closer to the familiar spirit, "Truthfully, tell me. What happened to my master, the Horde, everything?"
"That is a terribly long story to tell… and would be far easier without the pains of lingering in this partial existence."
"Of course, nothing from you is freely given," Nobu'tan said, amused at the nostalgia of conversing with one of his old teachers. Teron was chief among the Death Knights, and second in cunning throughout the Horde of old, aside from Gul'dan.
"If I do what is needed to bring you back from the realms of the dead, will you join me and my Dark Horde?" Nobu'tan said, diving straight to the point.
"Is there place for such blights upon the world as a Death Knight?" Teron asked, almost sarcastic in his nature.
"Azeroth has changed since I returned," Nobu'tan replied, "and we already have Death Knights returning to their valued place of respect and power. Your knowledge and insight would be a welcome boon to our forces."
"It would be good to rejoin those that respect my power, and take revenge upon those that caused the shattering of all our plans." Teron said.
"What is needed to release you upon this husk of a world once more?" Nobu'tan asked, snapping the Death Knight's spirit out of his revelry.
"I need artifacts of my former glory, which housed my spirit in the realm of the living." Teron explained, "My cloak, truncheon, and armor should be sufficient to restore me."
"Where shall I go to find them?" Nobu'tan pressed.
"Not far," Teron said, "the spirits of the dead around the temple of Karabor hold my cloak, while former minions, riding in their death will have my truncheon. Finally, the undead wyrm Vhel'kur has my armor. Bring them all to me here, and I will be reborn."
"I will do this, Teron, and look forward to walking with you once more." Nobu'tan said, departing the shadow altar, and rejoining the guides of the Dragonmaw clan.
"We have another objective before leaving this valley," Nobu'tan announced, "and artifacts to gather in order to release another powerful ally to our cause."
"Are you sure it's safe to trust that spirit?" one of the orcs, clearly superstitious, asked, "even if half of what it says is true, Teron Gorefiend was a monster that slaughtered friend and foe alike. We cannot risk releasing such a creature."
Nobu'tan glared, his anger flaring at the words spoken against his old mentor, "You will do as I command," he declared, Fel lightning launching from his clawed hands, raking over the orc for the briefest of moments.
"Teron Gorefiend is a trusted friend and ally of the Dark Horde, and we will do whatever is needed to return him safely to our side." The warlock reemphasized, turning his eyes back to the Black Temple. "Find me these spirits that hold his cloak and truncheon. Meanwhile get us mounts to hunt down an undead drake. There is little time to accomplish all that is needed."
"Yes, Lord Nobu'tan," the Fel orcs replied, cowed into submission by the display of demonic power.
"My family may be shattered," Nobu'tan said to himself, starting down the path that led away from the old altar, "but I have the power to forge it anew, and will do everything I can to reclaim what fate has stolen from me."
Gul'dan may have been dead, and Cho'Gall driven mad with his Old God whispers, but Garona, Teron, and others yet lived. Nobu'tan would bring them together once more, and while things would never be like the old days of the Horde, they would forge a new path ahead.
He swore it.
Following the orcs as they started toward the walls of the Black Temple, Nobu'tan spotted the shimmer of the ancient ghosts that haunted it. The strange creatures, clad in priestly garments, ignored them until they were set upon, the enchanted steel of the Dark Horde cleaving spirit just as easily as flesh.
Butchering the already dead was dull work, but dutifully Nobu'tan saw the task through, and when the ragged, yellow cloak was heft from the remains of one particularly nasty spirit, Nobu'tan felt a swell of accomplishment. They were now one third of the way to revitalizing his old friend and teacher.
And even as he start to wonder where the former Death Knights under Teron could be, the neighing of undead horses pulled his attention to the road leading toward the entrance of the Black Temple. A quartet of undead riders was bearing down on their group. "Prey coming to the hunter as an act of providence…" Nobu'tan said, welcoming the advance of those who guarded Teron's weapon.
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Voldemort ordered his clan to take their progress into the labyrinth slowly, clearing every chamber of even the trace of those loyal to the Shadow Council. Bellatrix, so new to her unlife, was itching for wanton destruction and freedom to do as she pleased, but Voldemort restrained her. There would be time enough for her to unleash all her power and wrath upon their enemies, but she needed a firmer grasp over her new form, and what abilities that granted her first.
Knowing that Nobu'tan would want any scrap of knowledge that these warlocks, locked in their underground vault, possessed, he instructed the necrolytes to gather everything that wasn't proverbially nailed to the ground, while he, Bella, and the other Death Knights pushed forward into the next chamber.
Just beyond the chamber with the stone gateway, the Cabal and their allies had rallied a defense, guards and warlocks hurrying to summon demons to hinder the advance of their doom.
"No one can stop death…" Voldemort muttered, hands gripping both Blightbringer and Apocalypse. Cold fury drove him forward, even as the necromantic energies filled each of his servants.
"Stand your ground!" one of the warlocks cried, trying to rally their defenders, but a coil of death magic silenced the orc mid breath.
"Annihilate them all!" Voldemort shouted, leading the way to battle. Bellatrix shrieked in murderous joy, even as she and the Death Knights followed their master into the fray, their power over life and death emboldening them over even the Fel power of these warlocks.
The Lord of the Blightbringers rampaged over the front lines of their enemies' defense, both runeblades eagerly cleaving through the metal and flesh of their warriors. These were mindless grunts, nothing like the High Overlord of the Kalimdor Horde. They were weak willed and simple, and Voldemort allowed his aura of death consume their fear.
It was satisfying to raise them all as undead servants, turning them on the warlocks that had commanded them to fight moments ago.
It was music to hear the screams of those casters, as well as the shredding of cloth as they were torn apart by their own underlings. They too would rise in service of Voldemort, flesh melting from their bones as magic cracked around their skeletal forms.
The demons they had summoned, possessing little loyalty to those that sought to command them, fled into the Nether at the demise of their summoners, or else were turned to ash as their bodies were hewed by the rune-etched weapons of Voldemort's Death Knights.
Sending the mindless dead ahead to pave the way for their advance, Voldemort nodded at Bellatrix, who eager took the opportunity to charge ahead. Meanwhile, Voldemort scanned the room with a critical eye, checking that none were trying to hide in the shadows.
For Nobu'tan's plan to subvert the Legion's advance on Azeroth, all their mortal servants, aside from the Dark Horde itself, had to be eliminated. It was the secret orders he had given to each of the commanders of his multipronged attack on Outland. True, they were working toward supplanting some half-demon from his throne in Shadowmoon, but at the same time, they would work to undermine the Legion completely, and render them unable to rely on anyone other than Nobu'tan himself to bring them to their world.
Voldemort had little love for the world that they had come from, and now in death felt nothing about its destruction, but it was clear that in his heart, the Grand Warlock of the Stormreavers had been damaged by the choices he had made so long ago, in sacrificing a world filled with life to buy a one-way escape to his old home.
If this was the manner of Potter's revenge on an endless army of demons, Voldemort understood why he had stood little chance against him so long ago. There indeed may have been something to that "power of love" that Dumbledore had so often preached about. Not that Voldemort was truly capable of such emotion now, being dead and numb to most of the world around him. But it was somewhat comforting to know that he was defeated by a greater power than he had given credit to, even if all other means ought to have deemed him the victor against the warlock.
But that was all in the past now. They had a deal working between them, and Voldemort was a man of his word, to an extent. Nobu'tan had never betrayed him thus far, and for Voldemort, there was no profit in stabbing the Dark Horde in the back, when they had accepted him as one of their own, and supplied him with all the power he required.
Still, there was something he felt was missing, stowed away in the back of his withered heart like an old memory, of striking out and becoming a legendary power all on his own. Perhaps in time it would return to him again, and he could take a place of great authority in this new world.
But it was not the time to dwell on ancient dreams of a dead man. There was the work of death to be done, and they had a long way to go just to snuff out the glimmer of life in these dusty tombs. A single sweep of Blightbringer drew upon the souls of the fallen around them, gathering the magical strength of their souls into his runeblade.
Voldemort felt the raw infusion mingling with his own soul within the weapon. It would do in helping push forge ahead on their path, but still…
"Blightbringer hungers…" he said, more to himself, even as Voldemort turned to lead his Death Knights on in the wake of Bellatrix and their mindless minions.
There would be plenty of souls for his weapons to feast upon here, and the sooner they got back to work, the sooner he would taste of their despair and suffering.
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Khadgar looked up into the blue skies of Azeroth, and breathed the fresh air of his home world. While he knew that there would be no returning home until the incursion of both Illidan's forces and the Legion were repelled from Outland, there were important matters he wished to see to first.
Despite learning of the many things that had occurred on Azeroth since the Sons of Lothar took their expedition to the red world, there were a great many things Khadgar simple had to confirm for himself.
It was not that he didn't trust the young Sorceress, but there were some things that she may have seen, or thought she had seen, and yet didn't fully understand as of yet, despite how gifted she was.
That was why, immediately after exiting the portal on the Azeroth side, he had teleported to the outskirts of what had formerly been Dalaran.
Seeing that, as Jaina had said, the magical defenses had been raised, preventing anyone from entering or leaving the area where the mighty city of the Kirin Tor had stood was sign enough that catastrophic damage had been done.
Unlike Antonidas' apprentice, however, Khadgar knew the route that would permit him entrance through the dome of arcane magic.
Peering into the arcane shell with eyes attuned to the nature of the Kirin Tor's secrets, Khadgar probed the outside of it with the arcane, caressing the shield gently as he searched for the hidden door.
Several times he had to stop and relocate, slowly circling the dome until he found the entrance, on the northwestern side of the dome, closest to Lordamere Lake.
There, mixed into the unyielding magic of the dome, was a tiny crack, almost imperceptible unless you knew to look for it. Once locating it, Khadgar went to work, pouring arcane magic into the crack, gently pulling at it to widen the hole that manifested.
It took a great deal of time, but eventually Khadgar opened a space large enough to step through. He allowed the magical gateway to seal behind him once more, and looked around, seeing that the city was most assuredly not the same as he had last seen it.
Dalaran had gone through a terrible destruction, but at the same time there was a great deal of reconstruction going on, with most of the buildings and towers rebuilt as they had been before. Dozens of elementals flooded the area, moving stone and lumber to and from various build sites, while mages oversaw the work.
Most were amazed at his appearance, once his presence became aware to them, and a handful abandoned their elementals, dashing through the pockmarked streets to the unmistakable structure of the Violet Citadel.
"I see my appearance was unexpected…" Khadgar said casually, trying to diffuse the tension in the faces of the young apprentices.
Sadly, it was less than effective and only when more figures from the citadel, their robes flapping slightly in their haste.
"You, identify yourself!" one of the pair, a woman, declared, her hands conjuring massive icicles to threaten Khadgar.
"Archmage Modera…" he said, holding up his hands and smiling, "surely you still recognize one of your own?"
"Khadgar?" the longstanding member of the Council of Six replied, slowly lowering her hands, "Is it really you?"
"I see there has been a lot going on in my absence…" Khadgar commented, glancing at the other mage at Modera's side. "I don't believe we've met."
"Of course you wouldn't have…" Modera said, relaxing a bit, "Archmage Khadgar, meet Archmage Rhonin, current leader of Dalaran."
Khadgar was impressed. Rhonin was young, exceedingly so to be the leader of the Council of Six… however. "How many of the Council are left?"
The pair of Archmagi looked at each other, "There are no other members at the moment," Rhonin replied, "all the others alive during the Third War fell when Arthas and the Scourge demolished Dalaran looking for an artifact to summon the Burning Legion."
"As it stands, were just holding everything together as we try to put the Kirin Tor back together." Modera added, "We could use the help of an experienced mage like yourself."
"I would be more than willing to help rebuild Dalaran," Khadgar said, "but unfortunately I am preoccupied with something equally pressing on my time, in Outland."
"I think we received some manner of news regarding the Dark Portal reopening…" Rhonin said, rubbing his chin in thought, "some mages in Nethergarde still remembered the ways to communicate with us despite the shield being in place."
"Personally I had hoped to find survivors willing to help us fight against the demons in Outland, but I suppose your need for them is far greater than ours," Khadgar admitted, only somewhat disappointed. There were others he could seek out, allies of the Sons of Lothar that could be called upon in fighting off Illidan and Kil'jaeden's forces.
"I am sorry that we lack the resources to assist you, Khadgar," Modera said, "but I urge you to not lose hope. Stormwind has been rebuilt, and has many willing to lend their aid to fellows of the Alliance. You will find adventurers and soldiers there in spades."
"Then to Stormwind I will go next," Khadgar said, nodding to himself. He had already planned to seek out wherever the Alliance's main stronghold had been, and hoped that the layout of the city was like he remembered it.
Gathering the Arcane to himself, he prepared to teleport to where he remembered the Keep of Stormwind to have been located, "I will return when all this is over, and assist in the rebuilding efforts however I can," Khadgar promised, departing in a rush of magic. The shield of Dalaran protected from without only, and caused him no hindrance as he slipped into the arcane, reappearing in the city that he had often visited with Medievh.
He appeared in the central throne room of the Keep, restored exactly as his memory saw it, but he was not alone here. "Ah, Lady Proudmoore, good to see you again," he said, startling the young woman, and the others that were gathered.
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Draco resisted the urge to recoil at the sheer majesty of the power that this new wizard radiated. Moving like a man three times younger than he appeared, the white-haired wizard approached, greeting Jaina and Varian like old friends.
"Archmage Khadgar?" Varian asked, rising from his throne, the meeting between them all completely forgotten.
"We have need of the Alliance," the Archmage said, his eyes sweeping the room, lingering for a long while on Draco, before passing on, "And I suppose any who will come to Outland and fight to protect their world as well as ours."
"What is needed?" Varian said, seemingly ready to throw every soldier they had at the request of this man.
"The Sha'tar suspect that Kael'thas will be trying to increase his influence in Outland, supported by both the Burning Legion and Illidan's forces. We need that mad mage stopped once and for all, before he creates weapons of unimaginable power with the raw mana that they've been collecting in Netherstorm." The mage replied.
Draco momentarily had his thoughts drawn to the strange object that Nobu'tan had returned to Blackrock, the device that their goblin engineers had concluded was a powerful explosive made of magic, comparable to the devastating weapons that the muggles of his home world had attempted to use against the Legion, to little effect.
There was a flash of arcane light, and a projected map of the rocky expanse of the Netherstorm appeared. "Here, at Tempest Keep, Kael'thas has hoarded all the magic he has gathered. Supposedly, it is to bring back to Silvermoon and sustain his people with, but I do not doubt that he plans much more with that amount of raw magical energy." Khadgar said.
"That area seems treacherous to cross on foot," Varian said, studying the map, "and the fact that this flying fortress is where he leads from, means we will need many gryphons."
"I can arrange for other means of flying to aid you, but all that you can supply will go much farther for our cause." Khadgar added.
"Is there a chance that the Dark Horde is already in operations there I wonder?" Varian asked turning to Draco. The warlock paused, glancing at the Archmage.
"I already know about your leader, Nobu'tan, and have communed with him on occasion. There is no harm you need to fear from me, for the time being…" Khadgar said, failing dramatically to ease Draco's distrust.
"There may be a small operation, but nothing on this scale," Draco admitted, gesturing at the map before them.
"Then I doubt we will have issue with them moving forward with some sort of offensive." Varian said, "We can gather an army at Honor Hold, would that be close enough to launch our attack from?"
"It would be a straight shot by air from Honor Hold to the Keep," Khadgar said, nodding, "but at the same time, there would be no cover once you arrived in the Netherstorm. They might use every opportunity to knock you from the air.
"If we get enough to start a base camp, we can open portals for the rest," Jaina said, chiming in, "between myself and Draco, it would be a matter of an hour to move an army from anywhere to that location."
"So be it," Varian said, "Jaina, you and Draco will lead our strike team to Netherstorm, while I rally an army here in Stormwind, you get those portals up for us, and we'll march through with everything we have."
Draco found himself nodding at the efficiency of the plan, "a straightforward, tactical strike where they least suspect, intending to lop the head off the snake as quickly as possible," he summarized, "it could work, supposing that they had no means of countering our magic."
"With as much raw mana in the air as Netherstorm has, there is no means to blanket an area with that powerful of a ward," Khadgar informed them, "With Kael'thas out of the way, the united forces of Shattrath City can focus on the south, and lay siege once more to the Black Temple. If we manage to defeat Illidan and destroy most of his forces, we can shut down the major forces working against us in Outland."
"What of the Legion though?" Draco asked, "What's to stop them from taking advantage of our focusing on Illidan?"
"The hope," Khadgar replied, "is that the Legion will be equally focused on Illidan, as they have been for their entire campaign, and withdraw once they realize that they are outnumbered here."
Draco did not like the idea of relying on such a shaky presumption, but realistically they had little choice. And then there was what this Archmage did not know regarding the Dark Horde's activities to weaken the Legion across Outland. "Very well," he agreed after a few moments.
"Shaw, I want you to go with Lady Proudmoore and Lord Malfoy, protect them as they establish the portal for our armies." Varian said, and the shifty Spymaster emerged from the shadows.
"As you wish, your majesty." Shaw replied, glancing suspiciously at Draco. The warlock knew that the master assassin of the Alliance did not trust him worth a damn, and would be extra careful in watching for even the slightest sign of disloyalty.
"We should get underway as swiftly as possible," Jaina said, even as Khadgar started channeling a portal.
"I will take you to Honor Hold with all haste, and I'm sure that Danath will provide the gryphons that you need," he said.
"Let me send a message to my mother, so she does not worry needlessly," Draco requested, drawing his wand. Despite Shaw stiffening in seeing the wizarding tool, Draco merely conjured his patronus, a falcon, and sent it off to the Mage Quarter to inform Narcissa of his imminent departure.
He caught Jaina watching him as he performed the magic, and the glint in her eyes told him that she wanted above anything to understand more of the wizarding magic that he possessed. Draco was not certain if it would even be possible for those of Azeroth to learn wizarding magic. Nobu'tan had been quite insistent that they used only those energies that they could manipulate from without, but had he really tested any of them for magical cores?
Within a few minutes, the massive swan of his mother's patronus soared into the chambers, and spoke with her voice, "I understand son, be safe, and I will look for your speedy return."
"What magnificent magic…" Khadgar breathed, and Draco realized with a small jolt that the archmage would have never witnessed this before.
"I am prepared now, we can depart as soon as you like," Draco said, turning back and avoiding the gaze of the deep, arcane-infused blue eyes of the powerful mage.
"Alright then, we shall go," Khadgar said, raising the field of teleportation around the four of them.
Draco was unsurprised by the jerking nature of the magic, reminiscent of the apparition of wizard kind. Clearly, Nobu'tan alone had developed a means to travel without unnecessary movement.
"I have other places that require my attention, but I trust Danath with my life," Khadgar said, turning and opening another portal for himself, "he will make sure you have everything you need."
And with that, the master mage vanished in a shimmer of blue, leaving the three of them in the red, desolate waste of the Hellfire Peninsula.
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Nobu'tan stood on the rocky outcropping that overlooked the whole of Shadowmoon Valley. In the distance, rising over the cliffs was his inevitable goal, the Black Temple. How he longed to attack it here and now, but he had to turn aside.
The whoosh of displaced air heralded the approached of the massive undead drake, one of the spawn of Deathwing the Destroyer, slain and risen by the works of Gorefiend many years ago, and now the guardian of the first Death Knight's armor.
Drawing from the Fel the glaive of Magtheridon, Nobu'tan took aim, watching as the drake flew near on its endless circle around the rocky cliffs, mimicking life.
As soon as it was in range, with a roar Nobu'tan threw the bladed weapons with all his Fel-empowered strength. The diabolical metal flew straight as an arrow, impaling the rotten flesh and breaking the charred bones of the undead dragon, sending it into a spiral as it attempted to right itself.
Allowing demonic wings to lift him into the air, Nobu'tan rushed at the stinking creature, even as it turned and issued a challenge in return.
The two sped toward each other, the dragon opening its maw wide in the hopes on consuming Nobu'tan instantly, but the warlock was far more agile than the massive undead drake. Nimbly swerving away from the snapping jaws, one clawed hand reached out and grasped the glaive, wrenching it free from the drake's side.
Nobu'tan turned, alighting over the much slower beast as it tried to turn and pursue him, and attacked again from above, slamming full force into the sticky and brittle back.
His objective was to ground the beast, so that his allies could assist him in slaying it swiftly, and searching for the armor in its belly. There would be no chance of recovering the armor if the drake fell into the endless abyss of the Nether.
The drake tried to roll, attempting to throw Nobu'tan from its back, but the half-demon warlock took to the air himself once more, guiding the beast toward the mainland of Outland, while firing jets of flame and arcane missiles behind him to maintain the aggression of the drake.
As soon as they approached the high cliffs before the edge of the Valley proper, the hunters of the Dragonmaw, and other assorted scouts that had escorted Nobu'tan, opened fire, bows and large spears flying outward at the drake, ropes and chains snapping taut as they tried to heave the beast further inland.
Despite their efforts, the undead creature resisted, heaving backward and trying to retreat to its perch on the floating island. Nobu'tan wasn't having any of it, and dove in for the attack once more.
The glaive slashed furiously, severing the tail of the creature midway between hind quarter and tip, while more severe punctures tore away at the sinews that aided in giving the zombiefied creature lift.
With a blast of flames from its maw, the drake plunged toward the ground, even as Nobu'tan pursued it, lining up the spear with the thrashing neck of the creature.
It struck the ground with a tremendous crash, and moments later Nobu'tan landed, the glaive of Magtheridon splitting straight through the thick neck and into the ground, pinning the drake in place.
"Now!" he roared, and the hunters converged from the cliffs and other safe places, throwing more bonds around the writhing undead body, even as others went at the head, hacking and slashing at the flesh and bone to put the undead monstrosity back to its rest.
A cascade of arcane and Fel magic erupted from Nobu'tan, bombarding the beast until it finally fell silent and lay still, defeated.
"Open it up," he ordered, watching as the Fel orcs cut away at the stomach of the drake, exposing the stinking ruin to the open air, and began to fish around in the creature's entrails.
It was not a very large drake, and quickly the dragged out the metal chest piece of Teron's armor, unaffected by its stay inside the rotting husk.
A quick spell from his wand removed the acidic taint from its long stay inside the stomach of the drake, and Nobu'tan easily hefted the armor, cradling it gently as he admired the dark magic that coated the human-looking set of plate.
Holding it aloft, Nobu'tan smirked at the cheers of victory from his warriors.
They had succeeded in their quest.
Gorefiend would be whole again.
