Thanks much to those who've reviewed, and I am grateful that this far in, so many are still enjoying the story! Life is getting complicated, but the progress forward continues, albeit not as fast as I'd hope. ~F

Chapter 149

The Northward Muster

Voldemort watched as, in a flash, the leader of the Scourge Death Knights turned on his King, screaming in fury as he raised his runeblade to strike at the armored figure. The hulking form of the Lich King scarcely moved as he swatted Morgraine away, sending the Death Knight flying backward to land in a heap.

"Pathetic," the Lich King said, focusing all his attention of Tirion Fordring.

"You're a damned monster, Arthas!" the Paladin said angrily, but the lord of the Scourge merely chuckled.

"You were right, Fordring." Arthas replied calmly, "I did send them in to die. Their lives are meaningless, but yours…"

The Lich King lifted his great runeblade and pointed its tip at Tirion's heart, "How simple it was to draw the great Tirion Fordring out of hiding. You've left yourself exposed, paladin. Nothing will save you."

From where he had fallen, Morgraine laughed, spitting up a wad of blackened blood out of his lungs. "That day is not today, Arthas…"

Even as the Lich King started to cast a spell at the Paladin, Tirion raised his weapon. The Ashbringer shined with an unnaturally powerful light, seeming to pulse in power in the presence of the lord of the dead.

"ARTHAS!" Tirion bellowed, his own eyes becoming enveloped by the power of the Light.

"Argent Dawn, ATTACK!" Lord Maxwell shouted, leading the surprise assault on all the surrounding forces blocking them from Tirion and the Lich King. Voldemort allowed his forces to join the assault, but he remained back, watching the byplay of the two great powers of these forces.

"What is this?" Arthas asked, genuinely confused.

"Your end," Tirion said coldly, even as he charged the Lich King head on.

Arthas parried the first overhead swing of the Ashbringer, but Tirion pivoted and struck again rapidly, counter-hitting the armored chest plate and cleaving through the armor like it wasn't there.

The Lich King yelled in surprise, anger, and pain, leaping back to avoid further damage to his undead body. "Impossible…" the undead sovereign said, free arm covering the injury.

"This is not over!" he threatened, waving his weapon to tear open a portal with his awesome command over undeath, "When next we meet, it won't be on holy ground, paladin."

The Lich King stepped through, abandoning his devastated forces in the face of the charge of the forces of the Light. Tirion had eyes only for Darion Morgraine, and went to the Death Knight's side, although the undead only managed to rise to his knees once more.

"We have all been witness to a terrible tragedy. The blood of good men has been shed upon this soil! Honorable knights, slain defending their lives—our lives!" Tirion declared, causing many of the other defenders to stop and listen to what the elderly Paladin had to say.

"And while such things can never be forgotten, we must remain vigilant to our cause," Tirion said, clenching his hand, still holding the Ashbringer.

"The Lich King must answer for what he has done, and must not be allowed to cause further destruction in our world." Tirion declared, raising his fist to the sky, "I make a promise to you now, brothers and sisters: the Lich King will be defeated! On this day, I call for a union. The Argent Dawn and the Order of the Silver Hand will come together as one! We will succeed where so many before us have failed!"

Those assembled cheered, including many of the Dawn's Hammer Clan. "We will take the fight to Arthas!" Tirion proclaimed, "And we will tear down the walls of Icecrown! The Argent Crusade comes for you, Arthas!"

The Death Knight rose to his feet at last, even the undead seemingly inspired by the words of his former comrade. "So too do the Knights of the Ebon Blade. Although our kind has no place in your world, we will fight to bring an end to the Lich King. This I vow!"

Seeing that there was now an end to all conflict, the victorious living and their new undead allies, at least against the threat of the Scourge, Voldemort sheathed his weapons. From somewhere to his left, Grimaxe approached once more, a grin on the orc's bright face seeming to glow with the sudden surge of Light in the area surrounding the chapel.

"We have aided in a great deed, Chieftain of the Blightbringer Clan," he said, "I thank you for aiding us in defending this burgeoning Crusade against the Scourge. We choose to remain, and venture to Northrend with our allies in the Light. Kindly return and take word of these events back to Lord Nobu'tan, as he will need to know of the Light's advance to the frozen north."

Voldemort frowned, feeling the cracks in his skin pull taught as he considered how simply all these thought to send him at their whim to carry errands to and from Blackrock. Still, he had to travel back through the Burning Steppes if he was to resume his place in Karazhan where his Clan held full control.

"I will do this, but know that you owe us a debt. If we ever call upon you, we expect you to come to our aid." Voldemort said, refusing still to walk away without gaining something from this exchange.

"As you wish, Lord of Death," Bannok said, turning away to go and speak with his fellow paladins.

Shaking his head in consternation at the overwhelming cheer that the formerly dour orc was not expressing, Voldemort returned to his Clan of Death Knights, and they took an offered portal back to Blackrock Mountain.

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Varian surveyed the carnage as the last of the Scourge was piled and burned on the harbor. The stink was horrendous, but as King of Stormwind he was going to oversee the removal of the last of their enemies from his city.

Bolvar approached, frowning at the stench, but focusing on Varian. "The Valiance Expedition sets sail for Northrend on the evening tide, sire." He reported, referencing the fleet that had been prepared for their counterassault of the Scourge, which Varian had ordered prepared when Jaina had first warned him of Thrall's information.

"There is no one I trust more to create the base at Angrathar, my friend," Varian said, placing a hand on the Highlord's shoulder. Fordragon had volunteered to lead their forces on a direct assault to the very gates of Icecrown, and would be among the first to set foot on those distant shores.

Bolvar smirked, "In the shadow of Icecrown! That will tweak the Lich King's nose, Varian… And pay him back for sending a necropolis against Stormwind… again…" he said.

Anduin, who had been nearby, covering his nose to block the putrid smell of the burning corpses, turned to look at his friend, "I'm going to miss you Bolvar! Be careful!" he said sadly.

"I'll do my best, lad," Bolvar replied cheerily, masking the dire situation that he was heading toward.

Varian was far more serious, "You are more brother to me than even blood!" he declared, "Keep safe! Stormwind needs you!"

The Highlord nodded, turning toward the flagship, which was ready and waiting to depart for the rendezvous point for the entire fleet.

As soon as he had boarded the ship, Anduin spoke again. "I wish Bolvar didn't have to go. I wish there were no enemies or battles… But you aren't like that, are you, father? You're sorry not to be going with Bolvar. You love to fight. Father, do you think that there is something wrong with me that I do not?"

Varian felt a small fissure form in his heart at his son's words. It was true, he wanted nothing more that go be on that ship with Bolvar, taking the fight to his enemies directly. But still, he understood his place, and would not compromise defending his people to sate some primal bloodlust like the Horde and Dark Horde did.

"You're a valiant lad, Anduin," he said, patting his son on the head, "And when you have to fight you acquit yourself bravely—with honor. That is enough."

Turning to look at Anduin carefully, Varian explained himself clearly, "I do not thirst for war as some men do. But… it's true that I feel most alive in the midst of battle. Maybe that means that there's something wrong with me…"

Varian paused, considering the random thought for a moment, before continuing to his point, "Though that's just as well considering the present circumstances. A great and terrible war is coming. When we win and the Lich King has been defeated… Then let us hope that your time, a time of peace and healing, will begin. When that day comes, you will be greater than I."

Anduin beamed. Together the King and Prince started back toward the Keep. At the gate back into the Park District, Draco Malfoy met them. "Our people are sending some of us ahead with the city of Dalaran," he informed the pair, "Both my father and I have been invited by Archmage Khadgar to join the Kirin Tor's move northward, as well as to watch over the captured Scourge leader."

A curious decision on the part of the Kirin Tor, Varian mused, but not unexpected, "I understand," he replied, "Take care of yourselves. The Alliance is deeply in your debt for all you've done for us."

"Thank you, milord," Draco replied, before disappearing with a small clap of sound.

Varian wondered how he was to endure how quiet it was about to be in the city, with all their great warriors gone off to battle without him leading them. If not for the demands of the city, and making sure that coordination with all their allies went smoothly, there would be little need for him to remain aside from Anduin, but right now, Varian felt that that was sufficient reason. He had been away from his son, and his city, too long already.

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Khadgar had not made his decision lightly.

The power of the Fel swirled around those that followed Lucius and Draco Malfoy, and that was reason enough to keep an eye on them, before factoring in their strange, new magic that was radically different from the Arcane.

The Archmage was sure that both were just as aware that they were here to be studied just as much as their captive, and yet they acted as though it didn't matter to them.

Rhonin, the Archmage who was currently head of the Council of Six, had seen no problems with admitted these strange spell casters into Dalaran, and personally wished to meet with their leader. Khadgar knew that the younger man meant well, but his eagerness to see Dalaran renewed might have blinded him from time to time. Even now, as the mages of the Kirin Tor worked toward teleporting the entirety of their city to Northrend, Rhonin was contemplating offering a place in their city to those mysterious people from another world.

The apprentice of the last Guardian was not certain if that was wise at this point, regardless of how much King Varian vouched for them. The darkness of Fel magic wafted around them, stinking strongly of the Dark Horde, meant that they were all potentially very dangerous, in addition to their as of yet uncategorized abilities.

That was why he had elected to take charge of their presence here in Dalaran, while the others took care of the needful preparations. Important over all was seeing to the containment of their newest prisoner in the Violet Hold.

"As you can see," Khadgar was explaining as the two Malfoys looked over the holding cells, "we have layered every protective spell and ward over the cells. Nothing short of the deactivation codes will lower them."

Whether the pair was impressed or not, their faces did not express it, "It is a suitable cage," Lucius said, turning about in a slow circle to see the Hold from all angles, "but truly I am more interested whether you've extracted any information from our prized guest…"

"Nothing as of yet," Khadgar admitted, "we've had hard enough time just keeping her restrained, let alone beginning an interrogation."

It was the truth, and the younger of the two men nodded in understanding, having been instrumental in capturing the vampiric, undead Elf already. "I wouldn't be surprised if she yields us little, but it is worth the effort to try at the least. Any information could be vital to defeating the Lich King."

"I couldn't agree more," Khadgar said.

"But still, I sense that there is something important you are yet not telling us," Draco pressed, "like why you are sending this entire city into the frozen northern wastes at all… surely your Mages could board ship with the Alliance and Kalimdor Horde just as easily if fighting the Lich King as your only goal…"

The perception of the pair was quite remarkable, Khadgar mused. Likely they had learned to be highly suspicious from their ally Nobu'tan of the Dark Horde, or else from whatever manner of scenario led them to be attached to the Burning Legion in their command of the Fel.

"Yes, I am sure that you will learn of the other reason soon enough, so there is no harm in telling you of our other goal," he admitted, leading the way out of the prison and back into the city proper.

"There have been some strange goings on in the Ley Lines all over Azeroth," Khadgar explained, "Mages from Dalaran were sent to follow the loss of magic to its source, which is somewhere in Northrend, but none of our scouts returned… with the combination of the Scouge and this mystery, there was enough reason to bring all of us in order to deal with both issues, or the one if they are connected."

The pair glanced at each other, which confirmed for Khadgar that neither had any connection to the Arcane, as the news of the leylines was a surprise to each of them. "That is something we had only heard small rumors about," Lucius said, "But being in Outland rather separated us from sensing anything here…"

"Perhaps," Khadgar said, keeping what he suspected to himself. Gathering what information about these strange mages was a worthy objective, and knowing that they did not wield the arcane, at least not in the same form as the Kirin Tor was a start. He figured that Jaina Proudmoore may have more information, but he did not have the time right now to teleport down to Stormwind, speak to her and get back before they moved the entire city.

"It would be best to find somewhere to rest while the city starts its teleport," Khadgar advised the pair as they arrived in the center square of Dalaran, "the jolt is a bit rough."

"We can go see to the preparation of our people," Draco said, "I think most are in the main tavern, and it would be good to eat something after the battle below."

"Good, go ahead and ask the bartender to put everything your people need on my tab," Khadgar offered. He had a long standing negotiation with the host of the Legerdemain Lounge, as well as a sizable amount of gold that had been saved up over the years he had been gone in Outland. As it was doing little else while he served on the Council of Six, giving it out for the wellbeing of others, even if they were temporary allies at the worst, would be beneficial in the long run.

The pair nodded and departed, turning toward the street where the Lounge entrance was located, and Khadgar went the other direction. There was no need for him to walk, specifically. He could teleport anywhere he desired in the city, despite it was a thing usually discouraged unless you had urgent business or were a member of the Council, but Khadgar liked to have the extra free moments to think before shifting to other issues.

Unfortunately, his path took him past the Silver Enclave. Khadgar felt uncomfortable there; with the eyes of most of the remaining High Elves in existence watching all who passed, but the worst was when he was recognized.

"Archmage Khadgar," called a familiar Elven female. The Mage repressed a sigh as he turned to see Vereesa Windrunner walking briskly toward him. The leader of the Silver Covenant was a skilled warrior, but her opinions tended to grate against Khadgar's on nearly every respect, and currently they revolved around debating whom to allow into the city, or have influence on the goings on therein.

"Back again to speak of the Kirin Tor admitting the strangers from Stormwind, along with the Blood Elves, into Dalaran?" Khadgar said, presuming her motives.

"Surly you know something as to why we shouldn't just wantonly admit these people, those who had made grave errors in judgment, or those whom we know next to nothing about and seem to have sprung up from nowhere to take center stage in Alliance politics…"

"While I admit they are a strange lot," Khadgar admitted, withholding much, "I cannot say that we have any right to simply deny them transportation here, nor whatever else may come up in the process…"

"I know what Rhonin wants," Vereesa said, driving straight to the same point that Khadgar was concerned about, "It is not wise to consider offering a place in the Kirin Tor to those who use magic in such an unusual manner, without an extensive vetting to make sure that there are no loose cannons that will unleash demons through the streets of Dalaran or attempt to sway us to fight on the side of one of the other factions…"

Khadgar had almost flinched at the mention of demons, with what he suspected of the leaders of these far-flung spell casters. While he was fundamentally in agreement with the High Elf, there was more at play than she was willing to accept, and that stayed his own wagging tongue. "Unfortunately, Rhonin is the leader of the Council, and I am in agreement that we should remain neutral ourselves, even while we assist with world-ending threats. If he wishes to bring these magi into the Kirin Tor, he must bring it to a vote, and we will decide then."

"I pray that it doesn't come to that," the Elf replied unconvincingly, following Khadgar as he continued on his way to the Violet Citadel.

Both of them knew that it would most certainly come to that, as the red-haired Archmage was eager to bring as many arcane wielding individuals together under the banner of the Violet Eye.

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Voldemort was uncertain what he had been expecting to find, following the word of those left at Blackrock that Nobu'tan had gone to the shipyard on the eastern coast of Arathi. But to see the fully assembled fleet of the Dark Horde, with clans loading onto every available space in full preparation for war was the last on his list of sights that he had thought would occur.

Runners and quartermasters swarmed the Grand Warlock, each seeking directions or reporting movements and inventories of the various ships as they arrived in dock or departed to wait the signal to set sail.

"No, no," Nobu'tan was saying as the Death Knight approached, "I want one trebuchet packed into each of the Blackrock Clan's ships, along with a half dozen canisters, and make sure they're empty!" he shouted after the retreating figure, who sidestepped to avoid colliding heavily with Voldemort.

"Ah, good, the Blightbringer Clan has arrived, that means the only clan not accounted for is the Dawn's Hammer," the scribe following behind Nobu'tan reported, glancing up from his scrolls at the Death Knight.

"The Dawn's Hammer are traveling with the Argent Crusade, and will meet us in Icecrown," Voldemort said, cutting over the scribe as he tried to usher the Grand Warlock to the next business item.

"That is, unexpected…" Nobu'tan said, but shrugged, "No matter, I trust them to not allow themselves to be utterly destroyed. And it opens more room on the ships for ordinance and supplies. Make the changes," he added to the scribe, who started writing furiously.

"You have a ship for your entire clan, bring what you feel needed to do as much damage to whatever we come across." Nobu'tan said, handing the Death Knight a pair of portal stones, "We leave with the tide, and the frozen north to end this threat once and for all."

"But what of the other factions," Voldemort asked, already activating the first rune stone to return and collect his clan, "the Frosaken are sure to also be there, and more than willing to attack us wherever they can…"

"Let them try," Nobu'tan said, smirking at the assembled ships, "They will learn the power that we have unlocked from the very heart of Blackrock Mountain."

Voldemort glanced at the ships, gleaming in the day with their metal armoring, "Your human workmen did an excellent job in drafting such beasts," he commented, stepping through the shimmering gateway and beckoning his followers through the Death Magic they shared.

The dark iron-clad ships that had been prepared, in order to compensate for the Dark Horde's lack of excess lumber, were indeed something compared to what he had witnessed from the other factions. The fact that they had kept these ships secret for so long was even more impressive.

Voldemort wondered idly if they would have the chance to see these ships in action en route to Northrend, preferably against one of the more irritating foes.

Within minutes the Death Knights of the Blightbringer clan assembled, and Voldemort issued their orders, to bring forth all their forces from the Swamps of Sorrow, as well as Karazhan, aside from a small retaining force that would secure their fortress in the tower there, and to bring their own special concoctions.

From what information Voldemort had taken from the Banshee before she had been banished, he came to realize that the Forsaken had been hard at work producing their own version of a plague of undeath, to use against both the Scourge and their living allies.

It was a great subterfuge, in order to place them squarely as the ruling power in the world, but Voldemort was not about to allow the Banshee Queen to have her plan come to pass.

Together the group of Death Knights returned to their sunken stronghold in the Swamps of Sorrow, where they had been preparing for the inevitable war against other undead. He had anticipated a more direct conflict with the Forsaken, but it would work just as well against the Scourge.

All throughout the eastern sections of the former troll temple, great vats had been built, while undead alchemists had worked day and night without rest for months, deconstructing and studying samples pulled from the various weapons of the Forsaken's plague. "Is it prepared?" Voldemort asked, entering the great chamber and looking at the lead Death Knight that had been overseeing the project.

"As well as it can be, given what we know," the undead orc said, smirking as the grey-green liquid bubbled in vat after vat.

"Then prepare it to move. We shall bring our anti-plague to Northrend, and hope that it counters both what the Scourge may throw at us, as well as whatever scheme the Banshee has planned." Voldemort commanded.

"Yes, Chieftain," the orc replied, turning to bark orders at the undead laborers, and as one the vats started to empty, all manner of glassware being filled for transport.

Meanwhile, every able bodied necrolyte was charged with gathering whatsoever they needed for war, and for all to meet within the center ritual room of the temple.

"Now is the hour that we march with the Dark Horde once again," Voldemort said, his voice scarcely above a whisper, but in the near silence of the chamber, it still echoed to every ear. "Northrend will feel the sting of our coming. The Death Eaters return, and we will devour the Scourge, and any others that stand in our path to claiming a rightful place in the world."

Silenced reigned for a few moments at his statement, but then several Death Knights in the rear started to stamp their metal-clad feet. The clanging stirred most of the others into pounding weapons, or hands, or anything else that could make sound. The rhythmic pounding rose in pitch and many of the undead howled their appreciation at their time finally having arrived.

Crushing the remaining rune in his hand, Voldemort opened the portal back to the Arathi Docks, and the Blightbringer Clan pushed forward, eager to step onto the battlefield against those that opposed them, and the Dark Horde, and their place on Azeroth.

"Lord Nobu'tan," he declared, returning to the warlock, who had hardly moved from when he had departed hours ago, "we have arrived."

"Good, your ship awaits, Blightbringers," the warlock said, gesturing at one of the ironclads that bore their symbol and banner. The dead marched forward, carrying their precious cargo aboard and stowing it safely beneath the decks.

"Do I even want to know what weapon you have brought in such quantity?" Nobu'tan asked, but Voldemort only smirked in response.

"If we have need of it, perhaps." Was all he was willing to say at that time.

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Nobu'tan could only shake his head as Voldemort departed, striding confidently onto the deck of his ship, and giving orders to the helmsman to take them out. It was one of the last remaining ships of their glorious fleet, leaving only Nobu'tan's flagship and a few leftover troop carriers for both the Blackrock and Dragonmaw clans waiting for their final passengers and cargo.

"Everything left is in order, Lord Nobu'tan," the scribe said, studying the detailed notes he had kept of every ounce of ordinance and personnel that were in the fleet, "the Fleet can sail with the tide."

"Good," Nobu'tan replied, facing his flagship, The Storm's Wrath, and sighing at the marvel that it was. He was not terribly learned in the arts of shipbuilding, or the manner in which the goblin engineers, working alongside VanCleef and his men as well as Blackrock smithies, had grafted the typically brittle dark iron metal onto their ships, but the effect was a very intimidating appearance, as well as a heavily sea-resistant and buoyant vessel, more than making up for the Dark Horde's premium on lumber.

"Send the signal when the last of the ships are ready to depart, I will retire to my ship, and take our place at the head of the fleet." Nobu'tan said, starting forward, and leaving the clerk on the docks.

Storm's Wrath had only been waiting for him, so with a terse nod at the captain, Nobu'tan was able to watch as the gangplank and anchor were hauled up and into the ship, allowing them to turn away from land and bob gently through the surf toward the front of the massive line of ships.

Vessel after vessel, most carrying an entire clan's-worth of warriors, some requiring two or even three to fit all their able bodied fighters, signaled their readiness to sail as the flagship passed. Bagpipes blared, and flags waved in expectation.

By the time they reached the head of the great line of ships, flares were shot into the air from the docks, the predetermined signal that meant that every last ship had been stocked and pulled away from the shore.

"Begin the assault of the north," Nobu'tan said softly, but loud enough for the young pages of the Stormreaver Clan to hear.

Instantly, drums began to beat, booming over the crashing waves and sending the call to sail. "Captain, set your course northward and east," Nobu'tan called up to the helm, "we need some space between us and Quel'Thalas when we reach them, in order to circle around any potential encounter with the Elves."

"As you command, Chaiftain!" the Captain replied, bellowing orders for the seadogs of his ship to prepare the rigging and let loose the mainsail.

A great gust, clearly generated by shaman toward the rear of the fleet, surged northward, catching the heavy canvas, filling the sail spectacularly, and setting them off at full speed.

The shore slipped past, and Nobu'tan momentarily thought of what a sight that they were making, sailing in full force toward the north by sea. He greatly suspected that they would encounter another faction on the water. Their spying eyes of Kil'rogg had all but guaranteed that they were aware of the Elven presence around Quel'Danas, their fleets holding the sacred island as they worked to repair the defenses of their precious Sunwell, but beyond that, there was the Forsaken to be concerned about.

The waters north of Eastern Kingdoms were their domain for many years now, and they were sure to be heading north just as swiftly as the Dark Horde. It was clear that the Dark Lady Sylvanas Windrunner had a deep hatred for the Scourge, and while she also detested the Dark Horde, Nobu'tan was not sure if she would throw away her chance at last to bring the fight to the icy realm at the roof of the world just to try and pick a fight on the seas with their ironclad fleet.

On one had, in a remote, sadistic portion of his mind, he wanted to see them try; to watch their fleet burn before the might of the Dark Horde's new vessels. But, at the same time, he knew that it was better in the long run for them to avoid conflict when there was a more important enemy to fight, even if they were terse and distant in their alliance.

Still, Nobu'tan left orders with the captain for him to be notified if any ships were spotted on their way northward, and proceeded down into his cabin. He had brought all that he thought he might need for the voyage only, knowing that once they arrived and claimed a space for their own forward outpost, he could create a portal back to Blackrock with little effort. As such, he had a wizarding compartment trunk with every ink he could create in the time leading up to this attack, as well as thousands of rolls of parchment. He had mastered some new charms, and with a wave of the Elder Wand, had half a dozen quills floating in air, following his metal commands to mass produce all the enchanted scrolls that they would need to fully augment any fighting force that they would need.

At the same time, he lifted his delicate enchanting rod, crafted from the rare metal Truesilver, and capped with a black pearl that had cost a fair amount of gold from Nobu'tan's personal coffers.

He had send for the artisans of the Dark Horde to create a new banner and symbol for this assault force, and had had many tabards of various sizes and measurements made by tailors, ready for enchanting by his own hand as they sailed.

He wasn't sure how the other clans would react to being unified in this effort, but it was clear that assault of Northrend would be something even more serious and terrible than their entire Outland campaign, and things ought to be done with a certain level of ceremony.

As he thought of what symbol and name would unify such a diverse group as the Dark Horde, Nobu'tan cast his thoughts back through the history of the Dark Horde. There wasn't much to work with, aside from slaughter and death that would earn nothing but the ire of the various clans, let alone the other factions.

There was nothing for it but to carve a new name; a new legacy, for them all here. If they were to defy the Legion, as they had so boldly declared at the Sunwell, then they must cast off their shame at the past, and embrace a brighter future. They were here to protect their world, and defy the Lich King that had attempted twice to destroy them all. Therefore, they would become his bane.

"Lichbane…" Nobu'tan muttered, even as an image floated into his mind. His magic reacted, powering both enchanting rod and wand, and emblazing the symbol on the tabard before him, and replicating it through the stack of cloth items, so that all were covering in it.

A fractured skull, grinning in pain through broken jaw and missing teeth leered up on each one, a broken crown symbol in black overhead on a light grey background, to tell the world what they sought, and that there goal here would end only with the destruction of the Lich King.

Nodding to himself, satisfied with what he had come up with, Nobu'tan set down the rod and planted himself in a narrow chair for a time, pondering their plans. He had a good idea where they would land, and what they might expect to find there. A mostly remote island lay just off the eastern coast of Northrend, well above the southernmost areas, where he expected the other factions to make landfall. It was close enough to a massive mountainous region, as well as what eyes had reported was some manner of troll settlement.

The potential of allies in the dreary wastes of Northrend was a long shot, but he was willing to make the trek into the upper reaches to find out for sure.

The use of magic, as well as the intense concentration during the mustering of his forces must have tired Nobu'tan, as he did not recognize the moment he fell asleep in his chair, nor that he had until he snapped to alertness at a snap rapping at his door.

"Ships on the horizon, my Lord," the captain said through the door, unwilling to disturb Nobu'tan more than that.

"Thank you captain, I shall come and see them myself presently," the Grand Warlock replied, stretching quickly and rising once more. He needed to rest, he knew this, but the needs placed on his shoulders, as well as those things he demanded on himself, were unending in nature, and he would soldier on until he had no reason not to allow himself a moment of respite to relax.

On deck once more, Nobu'tan realized that he had been sleeping for far longer than he had even suspected.

They had already passed the Elven northlands, and they could see the spires of Silvermoon behind them in the distance. But that was not what the captain had disturbed him about.

Dead ahead, sailing with its own small fleet of ships, was the black and blue symbol of the Forsaken. "What are your orders," the captain said, stopping beside Nobu'tan and also looking out at the other group of ships.

"Do nothing…" Nobu'tan said, "I want them to make the first move, if they choose to engage us."

Clearly the orc sea dog was uncomfortable not even so much as readying a weapon against the potential threat, but it was a testament to the faith that the Dark Horde had in the word of Nobu'tan that he nodded without question, and returned to the helm. They stayed on course, in full view of the undead ships, slowly overtaking them in a race toward the north.

Plotting the path that they were likely to take, Nobu'tan realized that they would actually pass the ships fairly closely, near enough that figures on each ships would be visible to each other. That would be the most perilous moment, and where Nobu'tan himself would choose to attack if he were in the Forsaken's position.

Granted, he was not sure what they were going to do, and if they attempted a boarding, they would be in for a shocking surprise and a vicious counterattack.

Nevertheless, they slowly drew up in line the with rearmost ships of the Forsaken, and Nobu'tan caught a glimpse of the undead, and a few Blood Elves, watching their fleet pass them by in silent worry and wonder.

"Yes, be afraid of us," Nobu'tan muttered, watching each wooden ship as their metal fleet sailed past, "we dominated your forces on land, and now the seas could be ours as well if we deemed it so."

There were no figures that he recognized, although it was clear that most of those on the deck spotted Nobu'tan easily enough, and their nerves upon setting eyes on him were evident. One of the few that seemed unconcerned was a male undead human nearer to the front of the line of ships. The archer wore axes on each hip, and merely stared at the ironclads as they passed with a judging glance of disdain.

As the Storm's Wrath came in line with the lead Forsaken ship, Nobu'tan spotted the Banshee at last. She was not at the prow of her ship like Nobu'tan, but standing behind the helmsman, as though giving him detailed orders of where to go and how to run his ship. But then she turned, and their eyes locked. Despite the undead face, and the distance, Nobu'tan could tell that she was beyond furious at their presence. But what she planned to do about it was yet to be seen.