What a crazy week. Finals at the school I work at, meaning that I have only three half days of work before a nice long summer vacation! Hopefully I don't spiral too far out of control having "fun"... Plenty of great things coming down the pipe, thanks in part to your wonderful reviews and comments, please keep them up, I thrive on feedback! If you're interested in more, follow my socials from the profile page, as I am particularly active in those as well if you want a more in depth conversation by faster means of communication! With that said, on with the chapter! ~F

Chapter 155

Toward the Dragonblight

Jaina felt her nerves settle as the explosion of Fel and necromantic magic died down in the old Troll fortress. Whatever evil of the Lich King was there, Nobu'tan clearly had seen to eliminating it completely.

From the base of the structure, Trolls and Dark Horde forces spilled back out onto the snow-covered grounds to continue butchering the Scourge forces. There was no sign of the Stormreaver Chieftain however, and Jaina felt her attention wander.

"So, Nobu'tan, you've decided to take the bull by the horns and charge into the thickest of the Scourge's battle zones," she said to herself, turning to watch the whole of the region from her vantage point, "It's bold, but what is your greater plan?"

She was about to turn and depart back to the south, when something caught her eye. Further north along the far mountain range, something glinted in the sunlight. Squinting, Jaina tried to make out what was reflecting the light, but it was too far.

Normally she would have dismissed it, but with the presence of the Dark Horde there was always the option of it being something that was giving them a distinct advantage, something that knowledge of would give important intelligence to Varian and the Alliance.

Throwing out another arcane wisp, Jaina waited for it to reach the mountain range before changing her vision to it. What she found was more curious than she had expected.

Dwarves, bright blue, with bald heads and black beards, were watching the ensuing battle with interest. Their armor and symbols were completely foreign to Jaina, and while they seemed to be powerful warriors in their own right, they appeared to be apprehensive about the Trolls and Dark Horde surging below them against the undead.

But it was when their leader appeared that really stole Jaina's breath. She knew that dwarf, by reputation as well as by sight. She had met him many times when visiting Capital City, training Arthas when he had been a young man.

But why was he here, when all accounts had reported that he had died when Arthas had fallen into madness in Northrend and took up Frostmourne.

"Muradin Bronzebeard?"

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Teron turned as the shadowy gateway opened, ushering Nobu'tan, as well as King Malakk of the Frost Trolls and those Stormreaver warriors that had attended them.

"The Amani and Drakkari are taking command of the Keep, as well as spilling out to drive the undead away toward the entrance of Zul'Drak." Nobu'tan explained, accounting for their diminished numbers. "How fared the battles here and at the Necropoli?"

"None have been allowed to pass this place," Teron reported proudly. His Shadowmoon warriors, warlocks, and necrolytes had held the line in perfect tandem, with plenty of artillery support and healing from cycling shaman and priests from the other clans. "And both Balefire and Blightbringer Clans have returned victorious."

"Den de Scourge are thoroughly on de run," Malakk surmised, to which the ancient Death Knight nodded.

"All is as I promised, Frost King," Nobu'tan said. "See what power the Dark Horde can bring, and what we have to offer in Alliance against the Lich King, and any other enemy that dares to approach this place."

"Dis be true…" Malakk was forced to admit.

Teron could see the wheels already spinning in the Troll's mind, how to escape the coming trap of words that he, by his nature, was clearly ill prepared to combat.

"Would you not say that a more lasting Alliance between the Drakkari and the Dark Horde would be of benefit to both our peoples?" Nobu'tan offered, already setting the bait for ushering the official entrance of the Frost Trolls to their Horde.

The Chieftain of the Drakkari had become lost for words, knowing that an Alliance was the right choice for the survival of his people, but at the same time being too proud to want to admit that they needed outside help to maintain their way of life.

Nobu'tan sensed it as well, "I understand your position, King Malakk, I truly do." Nobu'tan reassured the Frost Troll, "Your people are proud, and strong. If not for the overwhelming nature of the Scourge, no doubt you would stand against any other foe on the field of even battle. But the fact is, the world has changed, and in order for the Frost Trolls to continue to stay in control of these lands, you must change as well."

The Troll seemed to be listening, even though he was still silent. "We can guarantee that your Drakkari will remain the owners and leaders here in Northrend. Once the war against the Lich King ends, we will return to our own lands, and while you will have free reign to come and go between our lands and here, we will respect your authority and governorship of this place, should you agree to join the Dark Horde as full members."

"We… we be considerin' dis…" Malakk said, a mixture of defeat and humility in the Troll's voice. "Joinin' ya Dark Horde be feelin' very dangerous, but also be bein' our only choice."

"Take the time that you need," Nobu'tan said respectfully, but Teron could feel the inward victory that the Grand Warlock felt shine like the noonday sun. "We will press forward into the Dragonblight to take the fight to the Scourge's holdings in Icecrown. If you wish to join us, you are free to do so. Otherwise, we have holdings off the coast to the south of your rear gate, and you can find us there."

King Malakk did not respond, but merely turned and walked away. "He won't admit it openly," Nobu'tan said to Teron once the troll was out of earshot. "But we'll know when the Drakkari show up either on the front lines or our landing point."

Teron merely nodded. It was a solid likelihood that the Frost Trolls would become members of the Dark Horde. They had clearly impressed the King, and it was only pride preventing him from stating it aloud.

"Nevertheless, our work here is completed," Nobu'tan said, turning to look down to the bottom terrace of the Troll territory. The Scourge was in full retreat, while the Amani and Drakkari swept through the stragglers, urging them out faster.

"Shall we prepare to move down through to the Dragonblight?" Teron asked.

"Cautiously," Nobu'tan replied, his gaze altering to look skyward. The Death Knight also turned to look, even as a ghostly banshee of some crazed woman floated pointedly toward their encampment.

"One of ours I presume," Teron said, eyeing the spectral undead with a critical eye.

"One of Voldemort's," Nobu'tan clarified. The banshee sailed over their heads, heading toward the Blightbringer's camp directly, "If it's important, he will report it to us."

"Why does the banshee not report directly to you?" Teron inquired, even as his clan started to gather their equipment and materials together.

"It's a shared past, one that I was not particularly privy to, being an infant at the time," Nobu'tan said, seemingly ambivalent to the details. "She will not speak to me in any case, and judging from what I've been told, it's for the best that way."

Teron said nothing. It was not his place to state whether he thought that the Grand Warlock was wise or not to trust this younger Death Knight with potentially vital information like this. He would do what he could to support the path that Nobu'tan walked. It was what Gul'dan, his mentor and friend, would have wanted.

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Bellatrix wheeled down from above, passing through several of the emerald green banners of the Blightbringer Clan, eyes sweeping for her Lord among the many wielders of the power of death. All were preparing to depart this place, and Bella knew that she had to warn the Dark Lord, and through him Potter, of the fortress that watched all eastern travel into the Dragonblight.

The pavilion that Voldemort used for his personal privacy was still erected, although the guards were carrying supply out and loading them onto carts pulled by skeletal horses. Floating down through the ceiling, Bellatrix spotted the Dark Lord immediately.

"Ah, dear Bella, you return to us unharmed." He said, acknowledging her immediately.

"Of course, my Lord," she replied, bowing her head respectfully, "and I bring knowledge of what lies just beyond these lands, and the Scourge forces arrayed against you."

"Speak," Voldemort commanded, "We move for the Dragonblight with all haste, so whatever you have to report will be of vital use to us."

"The flying citadel, Naxxramus, bars the way westward for any travel. Kel'Thuzad leads this press to block the Forsaken to the south of us. I doubt he expects our forces in such numbers, but they are likely aware that the Dark Horde landed on this side, and have moved forces to block our advance." She said quickly, relaying only the important details of what she had learned.

"Their underestimation of us will be their undoing." Voldemort said, the permanent sneer on his face warping into a sadistic grin. "Send word to Nobu'tan of the situation, and advise him that we are taking charge of spearheading the assault."

A necrolyte departed to deliver the message, and Bellatrix smirked. If they were to take to the front lines for the coming conflict with the Scourge bastion guarding the way, then Voldemort must have had a plan.

"I want every canister we have left brought with us, and another runner sent to the goblins." The Dark Lord added, "We have need of their siege engines if we are to really take down this pesky citadel in quick order."

That was the sort of forward thinking that Bellatrix expected from her master, and she cackled as another orc was sent to deliver the commands.

"All forces prepare to move out in all haste," she bellowed, her voice ringing throughout the camp, "for the glory of the Blightbringer!"

"I just wish that we would have the pleasant opportunity to see the Banshee Queen as we launch our anti-plague right into the face of her hated adversary." Voldemort mused, leaning to the side of his seat, "It would show her quickly exactly the kind of enemy that she had made."

"We cannot always have our heart's desire," Bellatrix cooed, floating over to hover at her lord's side, where she belonged, "but she will learn in due time what we are capable of, and she will suffer our wrath for the indignity she put you through!"

"Easy Bellatrix," Voldemort said, shushing her with a wave of his hand, "it is unbecoming of one of a pure lineage to be so brash, especially in undeath…"

She settled, but the rebuke had still stung. She did not like the reminder of her grisly state. While she was eternally grateful that her lord had returned her from the halls of the dead, she had quickly found many limitations to her current form. The lack of a physical body meant that she could rarely interact with inanimate objects, unless they happened to be magical in some manner, nor could she cast the required spells to overcome the same problem.

Her musing was disrupted; however, as soon as a blast of pipes sounded outside of the tent, signaling that their forces were prepared to move out.

"And now we take the fight to the Scourge," Voldemort said, rising and checking that his equipment was all together, tightening the straps holding his two blades to his body.

Together they emerged into the frozen landscape to the sound of the booming drums. "The Clan is assembled, my Lord," one of the Necrolytes said, dark eyes barely visible from under the shroud covering the orcish head.

There was a burst of unholy magic, and the Dark Lord summoned forth an undead steed, the skeletal horse flaring with flames, "We ride then, blaze a path my warriors, death to the Scourge!" he shouted, embodying all the charisma that he had had in life.

Bellatrix sang her delighted war song, encouraging them all forward, even as the vanguard of Death Knights formed around their chieftain, and together they spurred their mounts to the head of the Blightbringer column, leading the push of the other assembled clans and tribes down into the lowlands of Zul'Drak.

Bellatrix, from a vantage point above and behind her Lord, turned slowly and spotted the banners of the Stormreavers. Potter was there, watching them with acid-green eyes, which betrayed the blaze of demonic Fel magic that they hid behind an expertly crafted orcish illusion. They would be judged by how they performed in the battles ahead, the banshee had that feeling rush through her, and although they had nothing needed to be proven, she felt the warlock's ire upon them.

That, or the surge of distaste she had for the child so audacious as to fail to die so spectacularly to a wizard so much older and more powerful than him, and then growing to rule over them, had simply blinded her awareness to anything aside from the death-magic color of his eyes; eyes she would like to see fade in death, but knew such a sight would forever be beyond her reach.

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Blaise sagged with exhaustion as the last of the massive giants fell in a heap, defeated.

Their battle had been hard won, and the Dragonmaw force was battered, bruised, and buffeted by various elements. But the significant space that they won in the halls of the fortress would be more than beneficial in securing a powerful stronghold location for the Dark Horde. They could secret away countless resources from Blackrock here, and with the teleporter technology that was already present, it could act as a new hub of their forces, shifting the teleportation network out of Blackrock and adding one more layer of security to their capital location.

However, they now had a momentary reprieve, as word had reached them that the rest of the Dark Horde army was on the move, clearing the rest of the Frost Troll lands of undead and sweeping down into the eastern portion of the Dragonblight. They were instructed to stand by as a relay station for warlocks to bring back wounded and return supplies to their front lines.

Until ordered otherwise, they were to keep establishing a base, keeping their air force of the Dragonmaw warriors in reserve until absolutely needed.

Blaise understood the reasoning, and approved of Nobu'tan prudence to keep their alliance with the Black Dragonflight remnant and their Fel-touched relatives while working so close to the massive tower known as Wyrmrest Temple.

The assassin knew only a little about the strange location, but it was enough for him to want to give it a wide berth. The tower hosted members from every dragonflight on Azeroth, including a few members of the black flight that had not allied with the brood in Blackrock Mountain. While that would pose a certain problem if they were to come into contact, both Nobu'tan and Blaise were more concerned with the red dragons than any other.

Dragonqueen Alextrasza had no love for the Dragonmaw Clan, after their unfortunate long-term imprisonment of her, as well as the blackmail and use of her children during the Second War. If she were to learn that they were operating as part of the Dark Horde, and were located so close to their precious tower, then there was no knowing what she Dragonqueen might do.

Therefore, a low profile was needed, and here under the shadow of Icecrown was ironically the safest place for them. The dragons did not come this far to the north, and that allowed them to do what they needed to prepare their strike at the bastion of the Scourge.

"I want all vital supplies and ritualists inside the fortress, wards and runes carved into the stones for added protection, and start working on portals back to Blackrock." Zuluhed commanded, and the tired warriors lurched back into action, driven by terror of the ire of their chieftain.

"They fear you…" Blaise commented, curious how the hulking Fel Orcs, easily twice the size of their non-Fel chieftain, seemed to obey him without complaint.

"When you see your leader rip the beating heart out of the first three challengers, you tend to reconsider trying your luck," the Dragonmaw chieftain replied, grinning in a manner that left no room to doubt why the orc had earned the title of "whacked".

Smirking at the ruthless efficiency, Blaise accepted the explanation without question. Regardless of whether the tale was true or not, the rumor being circulated throughout his clan would be more than enough to deter any newcomers from thinking they could usurp the role of leadership from the wily old orc.

"Then what they say is true. Beware of an old one in a profession where they usually die young," Blaise said, smirking across at Zuluhed, who laughed.

"That would be the sum of it," he agreed.

They sat around one of the few fires for some time, relishing the gentle heat among the chilled air. Some food had been brought for the pair of them, and Blaise was almost ready to lower his guard a degree and possibly enter a light sleep, when a scout from the outer ramparts came running to the pavilion that he and Zuluhed occupied.

"Chieftain," the scout reported, "Kalimdor Horde and Alliance banners are approaching the outer ridges of the valley. They seem to be seeking resources and weapons in the outer ruins surrounding this fortress."

"It seems we only managed to beat them here and secure a foothold," the Dragonmaw chief said, sighing as he rose to his feet.

"If those dogs want to challenge us here, then let them come." He announced, "Call for reinforcements from Blackrock, all that we can spare. This place will be flooded with our forces, and every drake that can fly."

The scout hurried away, sounding the alarm for all nearby warriors. Those that had spent their energy fighting inside the fortress staggered out of the nearest tents, but Zuluhed waved his hand at them, "Rest while you can, let fresh warriors take the brunt of this assault. If we need you, I will send word."

The grunts and other foot soldiers relaxed once more, but stayed alert as they gathered around fires and sat gingerly on stools and stumps.

"Dragon riders at the ready!" Zuluhed yelled, even as the great lizard-like beasts appeared in large numbers. Nether and Fel drakes alike were already saddled and prepared to bear riders into battle, although Blaise was not certain if bloodshed would be completely needed.

"We should scout these enemy forces," he suggested, "see who their leaders are and what they want. It is possible; however unlikely, that they want nothing to do with this place, or will even fight each other rather than encounter us."

"At the worst, we can have an idea of their strategy and their numbers, which would give us yet another advantage as well as air superiority," Zuluhed agreed, nodding.

"I will infiltrate the Alliance force," Blaise offered, "if you send your swiftest fliers to overlook the Kalimdor Horde. That will give us enough information to prepare a response."

"Be swift," the lord of the Dragonmaw said, and Blaise nodded, turning and whispering a spell of haste, before sprinting into the shadows.

Vaulted over the rubble of the walls, he dashed over the snow so light and fast that footprints were not left behind. The valley was large, but silent and dark, meaning that he could easily see and hear the advancing line of warriors once he got close enough. The sky was overcast, which also worked to their advantage. The dragon riders would never be seen before they were upon their prey if it came to that.

Soon enough, he found a camp, and spotted the torch-lit Lion's-head banner of the Alliance. Shedding his orcish illusion, Blaise waved his wand over himself to change into a nondescript human, and slipped around to the rear of the camp, where his entrance was less likely to cause a stir.

Slipped past half-asleep guards at the rear, Blaise made his way confidently through the camp, attracting no attention as he passed those in drunken stupor or else relaxing after a long march. The large commander's tent lay near the center of the camp, and while the assassin knew he would not be able to enter unseen, he had other ways of knowing what was going on within.

Finding a secluded spot nearby, he slumped against a tent pole, taking on the appearance of a man asleep, and softly chanted the Fel spell to summon a trio of eyes. One he left outside, watching himself just in case someone stumbled upon his body and tried to rouse him, and the other two darted inside, hovering around the top of the tent and watching down as the leader of the Alliance force studied a large map of the region.

A pair of other officers was with him, one a gnome and the other one of the blue-skinned Draenei, relatives of the demonic Eredar that served the Legion.

"We've entered here," the commander was stating, gesturing at the map, "on the south western side. We know that the Horde has circled around thanks to their strange, Tauren-like scouts and entered on the south east. It'll be a hard won race to the ruins in the north, but if we claim them first, then we can take the entire region for the vantage point over Icecrown, and provide an overlook to the Wrathtgate."

Blaise would have sighed, if his consciousness was still at his body. It seemed that indeed both factions wanted the ruins that the Dark Horde had already claimed.

"What of the Dark Horde?" the Gnome asked, as though reading Blaise's thoughts.

"No word of their presence here," the Commander said, "Last we heard, they were all in Zul'Drak to the east, driving out the Scourge and apparently forming an alliance with the Frost Trolls there."

"Unfortunate, that they make allies so easily," the Gnome continued, "It would have been better if they had to waste time slaughtering yet another potential foe for all of us here, allowing the rest of us to make a better fortification in the south."

"Hmm," the Draenei hummed neutrally. "It may be for the best," he said, "every extra ally against the Lich King is another chance to defeat the Scourge completely, regardless of which faction they adhere to."

"For now at least," the Commander agreed, "but we will have to watch them all the closer, once this campaign is over. The Drakkari are said to be among the most vicious of the Troll clans."

"Enough of that," the commander said after a moment in which the three leaders pondered the situation. "We need to focus on the task at hand: reaching the ruined fortress to the north before the Horde."

"First thing first," the Draenei countered, "We fortify a foothold here, by taking the nearby tower. From there we can see the nearby buildings, and if there is anything we can use to gain an edge over the Horde in our race."

"Scouts have already been sent to take it and observe the nearby area, they should return soon," the commander replied.

"We know that there are several abandoned workshops around," the gnome added, "there is bound to be materials and possible blueprints we can commandeer for some vehicles, as ours are too cumbersome to get on top of the mountain."

"Commander Zanneth," a human footman said, entering, "the scouts return with this report."

"Right on time," Zanneth said, accepting a sealed scroll and thanking the soldier, who departed with a sharp salute.

"There is a workshop very close to the tower, on this side of the range of bridges that cross the elemental congested frozen river." The Commander said, summarizing. "The bridges are the key to taking this region. If we can get over to the fortress first, taking and holding the bridges will keep the Horde out while we lock down whatever the fortress contains. Worst to worse, it's a strong location."

"We should send an advanced party as soon as possible, to sneak around and cut off the Horde while the rest split to take the workshop, the tower, and the fortress." The gnome suggested, and as the other two agreed, Blaise dropped the spells and return his mind to behind his own eyes.

The Alliance strategy was straightforward and pedantic. They thought only that one Horde was here, and the same trap that they thought of for the Kalimdor Horde would be used against them both by the Dark Horde.

Stealing away from the camp, the assassin easily bypassed the perimeter guard, as they were watching for people entering rather than leaving, and stole into the night with all speed back to the north.

He took the route over the bridge that the Alliance was planning to use, rather than the beeline he had used before that crossed through the clearer part of the iced-over river.

It would be a perfect ambush location for a swift aerial assault.

Speeding through the snow and ice, Blaise quickly entered the fortress, unseen by the Dragonmaw watchers, although he doubted that any assassin of the Alliance or Horde would be able to do the same, presuming they knew that the fortress was held already.

"You return," Zuluhed said, glancing up as Blaise entered the same campfire light that he had left mere hours earlier.

"The Alliance is coming for the fortress," he reported, "your scouts for the Kalimdor Horde would report the same. Neither of them suspects that we are already here, and they are attempting to block each other from reaching this place first. The Alliance intends to use the bridges, as well as craft vehicles on their side of the frozen river."

"These bridges will prove to be the best ambush site for both forces," Zuluhed concluded, well before Blaise reached the idea himself.

"Indeed, air strikes, fast and hard upon their main forces, could easily send both armies into disarray, and prevent them from mounting any suitable offensive on our position." Blaise added, sharing in the devious grin that the orc chieftain sported.

"They are not moving till before dawn, so there is plenty of time to ready our forces," he commented.

"As well as wait for word of the Kalimdor Horde's specific movements," Zuluhed agreed, already turning to look for shapes flying toward them out of the night.

"We will want to keep the fires low and rare for now, so that their own scouts don't suspect that there is anyone active here, just in case," Blaise suggested, "The shadow hunters of the Horde and SI:7 of the Alliance are powerful operatives in their own right, but we ought to see them coming if we know what to look for and are well hidden."

"Then that is what we shall do, as well as move more of our nonessential forces inside the defensible structure, rather than remain here in the open," Zuluhed agreed, rising and gesturing for runners to attend to his message for the rest of the clan.

Soon the entire camp was once again in a rustle, albeit more quiet than previously. Tents were left where they were, but infantry and non-flying cavalry forces were quickly shuffled into the buildings and towers, in order to remain out of sight until absolutely needed.

"This is not the typical way my clan does battle," Zuluhed admitted, even as the drakes were pulled into the center courtyard and hastily readied for battle, "but it serves our purposes now,"

"There is a time for everything," Blaise said, "including stealth and deceit."

"Especially when times are subtle and deceitful all around," Zuluhed countered, and the assassin was not sure if he was being spiteful or merely resigned to the fact of how their days were now.

"Nevertheless, so do what we must," Blaise said, turning to watch as the sky started to lighten, the clouds filtering the sunlight high above and thickening a layer of fog throughout the region. "Even the weather is on our side…" he commented, knowing that much blood would be spilled this day.

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Draco was already growing bored of the sameness that he had found in Dalaran. The floating citadel may have been impressive on the outset, but once he had seen everything, there was nothing new to keep his attention. The endless politics of the Magi of this city, along with the open hostility of the Elves and their staunchly pro-Alliance attitude made him more than willing to leave at the first available opportunity.

However, there seemed no convenient way to slip away from the city and rejoin the Dark Horde. "I can sense that you are ill at ease here…" a voice interrupted his thoughts, and Draco turned to see the Archmage of the city, Rhonin, walking toward him around the balcony of the high tower over the citadel.

"There is much to be done, and it seems that the gathering of information about your matter with the loss of magic will continue on with or without my presence." Draco said, trying to keep any scent of complaint out of his voice.

"Yes, it is clear that you and your father are men of action, and not willing to sit around and wait for the answers to come to you." He agreed, leaning against the railing and gazing out across the violet city.

"Perhaps some legwork, that will progress our investigation would be more to your style?" he suggested, glancing back at Draco.

"You trust us to accomplish this?" Draco challenged, eyeing the strangely young wizard back. He alone out of all the mages here seemed to actually welcome the presence of the wizards from old earth, and at least open to them actually joining forces on a more permanent concept.

"Should I not?" the Archmage replied calmly, meeting Draco's challenge with one of his own.

"No, I suppose we've given no reason whether or not…" Draco said, smirking slightly at the cunning, "So some want a test of our loyalties, and others of our skills, and this is the compromise that you've decided upon, also factoring in whether to use myself or my father." He continued, dropping pretext and speaking plainly.

"Right in one," the red-haired mage said, "We need more information badly as well, and there is a place nearby that we could go and seek some."

Pointing to the south, he continued, "in the center of the Dragonblight lies a tower of titan design, called Wyrmrest Temple, where the Dragonflights roost to convene among themselves. We know that the tower is always populated, and activity has increased in recent days."

"You want me to go into the midst of dragons to ask them for information?" Draco asked, dubious, "You honestly think that they'd even speak with me, let alone give me what you need?"

"They will if you give the Dragonqueen this token," Rhonin said, pulling out a medallion of the Violet Eye, which hummed with some ambient magical aura.

"The Dragonqueen owes me a favor, for lack of a better term," the Mage said, and Draco blinked, momentarily impressed.

"I presume you have means for me to get there," Draco questioned.

"You've flown Gryphons before," Rhonin replied.

Draco hesitated for a moment, before sighing, "It's something to do, I accept…" he said at last.

"Excellent," Rhonin replied cheerily, straightening and pressing his hands together, "Your mount already awaits at Krasus' Landing. The quicker you get any information regarding the change in magic, or what else is going on in the snowy wastes, the quicker we can mobilize for something actionable."

Draco wasted no time in departing, after a quick goodbye to his father, who was overseeing the bringing of a group of Ogre Mages from the Dark Horde to the citadel, to truly press the Kirin Tor about how desperate they were for an influx of members. Draco would regret to see their faces when the Balefire Mages appeared to add their strength to the Kirin Tor, but this was more to his liking anyway.

The fallout from that event would not be pretty, not with both Blood Elf and High Elf present representing the other two factions in great strength.

The gryphon was a spry young-blood, and eagerly dug at the stone as Draco approached. Swinging into the saddle, Draco had to grip tightly as the creature tore for the edge, champing to get into the air and deliver him southward.

The freezing air made him shiver slightly, but it took little time before Draco could make out the tower that the Archmage had spoken of. The strange stone monument jutted out of the desolate wasteland, like a spire driving upward at the sky.

But it was the figures circling around the tower of stone that made Draco shiver more than the cold. The swooping lizard-like creatures were massive, easily dwarfing even the oldest of the Fel Drakes that followed the Dark Horde. Any one of them could destroy him with little effort, and here he was flying into their midst.

There was no opportunity to change direction or turn around either. Draco could see from their movements that they had seen his approach, and the massive red dragons slowed to eye him as he passed, his gryphon heading upward toward the pinnacle of the tower.

His mount landed with a clatter on the covered roof of the tower, where more dragons milled about in their humanoid forms.

Slowly, Draco dismounted, as he was closely watched by all present, and approached the circle of strange, semi-elven appearing beings, which turned to regard him. The leader, a female in crimson that was clearly a dragon from the horns she sported, tilted her head as she appraised him, "And who is this?"

Draco opened his mouth to answer with a line he had practiced on the ride over, but he was prevented from speaking as a small gnome female overrode him. "He is one of the Wizardings, the people from beyond the Nether that follow the warlock, Nobu'tan, of the Dark Horde."

Glancing at the small creature, Draco guessed that she was one of the Bronze dragons in disguise, from the trappings of her robes and sandy hair. The problem was now that he had no secrets before these beings, and suddenly Draco felt very out of place and powerless.

"And what business does one of their kind, strange and beautiful though they be, have for coming among us?" the red-skinned woman continued, now looking directly at Draco.

Instead of replying, not wanting more words to betray him, Draco merely held up the medallion of the Violet Eye.

"He brings the crest of Dalaran," another figure, a crimson-robed elf next to the dragon woman said, "He is on a mission from the remnants of the Council of Six."

"More than that," the woman said, sniffing the air tentatively, "It has the scent of Rhonin upon it."

"It would make sense that the mortal magic users of Azeroth would eventually notice the betrayal of Malygos upon all who wield the Arcane." The male elf said, nodding in understanding.

"Then we should send someone to inform the Mages of the threat that they face, if they will not deter from their mortal course to investigate and interfere. The Blue Dragonflight will attack any that try to interfere with their plans to destroy the magic of this world." The woman said, looking between the elf and Draco slowly.

"But the Mortals would make excellent allies in trying to stop Malygos," the Elf replied, and the others around the circle, clearly representatives of the other dragonflights, nodded their agreement.

"Kalegos," the woman said, calling forth a blur-haired half elf, "You will go to Dalaran with this mortal, and explain what has befallen your Aspect, and that the Wyrmrest Accord will ally themselves with the mortals of Azeroth to halt this affront of the magical foundation of Azeroth.