Many thanks to those who've continue to read and review. We push onward, even though writing has become difficult with the added pressures of my new job on my plate, but I am somewhat keeping afloat with my schedule. With luck things will settle back into a proper balance, and we will be back on perfect track! Please enjoy the next chapter! ~F
Chapter 161
Lordaeron Convergence
Voldemort lingered on the precipice of the Blightbringer's overlook, watching the aftermath of the disaster at the Wrathgate. The betrayal of the Forsaken, while not unexpected, came at the most inopportune moment, forcing them to alter their fire from the Lich King to deal with their plague and protect what forces they could from the ensuing chaos.
Knowing that he had prevented as much damage as he could, the Death Knight had a feeling that monitoring the location for a time might be useful in case the Forsaken traitors survived the bombardment.
A host of red dragons had swooped over the area, probably to see if they needed to clear the blight with their flame, but their anti-plague had already done the job effectively, and they turned back to their tower-like temple without so much as a backwards glance.
The dead had been taken away from that place, in order to prevent the Scourge from trying to harvest their fallen for the undead armies, which was a good thing. Voldemort had observed many of the robed necromancers watching from the battlements of the gate itself, although none dared to emerge after he bombarded the first fool that poked his head out to try and steal the corpses of the fallen.
The former human wizard had the suspicion that someone was going to need to remain, to keep up a constant presence at this entry, to prevent the Scourge from trying to emerge once alternative routes were found into their region of operation.
From what he had suspected and surmised on Nobu'tan's behavior, there was already some plot in the works that would get the Dark Horde into Icecrown without having to fight their way inside.
Still, with the rest of the Dark Horde armies amassing on the ridge where the Blightbringer's were, or else returning far to the east where they first landed. Nobu'tan had apparently already gone off on a small crusade to exact vengeance on the Forsaken, and while he would previous demanded to be part of the group to punish those undead, for personal reasons as well as offenses against the rest of the world.
However, in the current climate of everyone being forced to fight against undead, it probably wasn't the best time to put his clan forward into the thick of a battle against hostile, sentient undead, while the Blightbringers had done much of the same as the Forsaken, albeit without trying to murder everyone around them.
So here they would remain, unless specifically called upon by Nobu'tan. Voldemort wasn't metaphorically holding his breath; however, as he would personally be thinking of only avenging their dead, and nothing more.
The Death Knight felt little pity for anyone foolish enough to get in the way of the warlock on his blazing path for retribution.
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Thrall glowered as he sat in Grommash Hold.
It was bad enough that the Forsaken had attacked their own allies at the Wrathgate, but for Sylvanas herself to come and explain a coup in her own city, headed by her pet Dreadlord, and now the Dark Horde was on the doorstep of Orgrimmar, their warlock leader demanding an audience.
It was a series of most undesirable circumstances all cobbled together in a manner that served to only put gray hairs on the already strained head of the Warchief of the Horde.
The Banshee Queen clearly knew not to anger him further in this matter, as she stood off to the side in near silence as the delegation of the Dark Horde entered. The mixed guard of ogres and Drakkari trolls waited outside, along with the strange, human-like harpies blighted by the Fel. Only one, their commander, joined Nobu'tan as the warlock entered the Hold, looking around with an aura of menace emanating from him.
Thrall heavily suspected that fighting would break out the moment that Fel green eyes affixed themselves on the crimson of Sylvanas, but the human in orc guise only sighed in frustration. "Your presence here suggests that this affront is not of your doing, am I right?" he said gruffly, although the murderous tone betrayed the violence that he wished upon the leader of the Forsaken.
"It is true," Sylvanas said, maintaining a quiet dignity that heralded back to her days among the living, "I have been just as betrayed as the rest of you by those I held in close confidence. Putress and Varimathras worked in secret to undermine my rule in the Undercity among the apothecary society, and developed this plague under my own nose."
"Somehow I doubt that is the full truth," Nobu'tan challenged, but did not wait for a reaction from the Banshee as he turned to face Thrall with the same withering glare. "I am going to this Undercity, and will annihilate all those responsible for the traitorous attack. The only mercy is that more lives were not lost, with the Lich King on the field no less…"
"We had just been discussing the same thing," Thrall interjected, "This is partially an internal Horde matter, and we are going to see it dealt with. I will be returning personally with Sylvanas to liberate her people from the Dreadlord's control, and anyone who resists will be destroyed."
"Not if I level the entire place first…" Nobu'tan threatened, making everyone in the room tense. The Kor'kron were uncertain whether to try and approach, as many of them had seen the warlock's true form and fighting capability. They knew they could not hold him if Nobu'tan felt the need to lash out against them all here.
"Many in the Undercity are blissfully unaware of anything that takes place outside," Sylvanas chimed in, "They would be considered innocent bystanders in this conflict, and will likely rally to our cause if they knew of Varimathras' treachery."
"You mean your cause," Nobu'tan challenged back, "likely in some grand scheme to further ingratiate yourself among your allies, just so you have another chance to stab us all in the back when it suits you…"
Thrall watched for several long moments. He hadn't had nearly as long as other leaders to observe the fiery Grand Warlock of the Dark Horde in action, aside from across a battlefield or in crossing weapons with him personally, and this opportunity to see firsthand what Jaina reported from Stormwind regarding the man was not to be wasted.
It was… interesting, to say the least. The anger and raw emotion was plain as day to see upon the warped human, even disguised as the near-spitting image of Gul'dan of old, but it was tempered with just enough calculating deviousness that Thrall heavily suspected it to be an act. Nobu'tan wanted others, Sylvavans especially, to underestimate him as some jumped up pup, all bark and no real bite, when in fact he was singlehandedly the most dangerous person in the room, both in terms of personal power and political sway.
The fact that he also only spoke the truth of what everyone was already thinking regarding the Banshee and her plots was something else to be considered. He could have walked in, spinning all sorts of tales of his own, trying to win favor of their fellow orcs on Kalimdor, but instead he only laid out their exact intentions, the destruction of those responsible for the deaths of their warriors at the Wrathgate, and offered neither apology nor excuse for their actions that would result of it.
It reminded Thrall of the same manner in which Ogrim Doomhammer would command his warriors, commanding and ruthless, but also with a great deal of care for their wellbeing, and swift vengeance on those who crossed them.
While there would be little in the way of diplomacy between the two Hordes this day, Thrall wondered if such opportunities would reveal themselves in due time, and perhaps start to mend the wounds that tore the Old Horde in two…
"Regardless of the underlying motivations here," he finally interjected, when he could tolerate the pair of people before him staring daggers into each other no longer, "We accomplish nothing by standing here bickering."
Thrall rose, and all the Kor'kron snapped to full attention, "I sail for the Undercity, and it is clear that you, Nobu'tan, and the Dark Horde are marching upon it as well. There is no reason for us not to join forces and put down this rebellion among the Forsaken. The head of Varimathras, I take, would satisfy your need for revenge for the lives lost at the Wrathgate?"
The warlock considered his words, and while Thrall felt that the other man, his counterpart is some strange fashion, did not wish to accept he nonetheless nodded his agreement. "Yes, the destruction of the demon behind this plot will be enough for us, as well as his mortal collaborators."
"Then we are in agreement as to what ought to be done here," Thrall said, "We will meet before the gates of the Undercity in two days, and launch our combined assault."
"I hope that Varimathras hasn't gained enough of a following to actually mount a defense," the warlock said, shifting his eyes sidelong at Sylvanas again.
"Unlikely," she replied, "he will most likely want as many of the unaffiliated Forsaken to take the brunt of any attack, and therefore withhold his loyalists in the rear of the city, just in case another faction is the one to besiege them…"
"All the most reason," Thrall interjected, to prevent further argument, "that we infiltrate with aid from Sylvanas to reach the innermost chambers of the Undercity without needing to fight through the guards."
"Fine," Nobu'tan said, not pleased in the slightest by the idea, "Then I and my representatives will meet you in Tirisfal Glades, and see the end of this Nathrezim incursion… something that ought not to have happened in the first place."
With the final jab against the Banshee, Nobu'tan turned and stormed from the Hold, tearing open a shadowy portal for his forces to exit from Orgrimmar as Thrall, Sylvanas and the rest of those present watched on.
"that had better not be an elaborate game, Sylvanas," Thrall added as the portal closed, "The last thing I want is more conflict between Hordes."
"Trust me, Warchief," the Banshee replied, "I do not wish for any more problem with the Dark Horde than we've already had…"
Somehow, that did not speak much in terms of truth to Thrall, but he had little choice but to permit her to return to her ship.
"That one is nothing but trouble," the silent occupant of the room said as soon as Sylvanas also departed, "she is going to be a constant thorn in the side of the Horde until she is dealt with…"
"Thank you for the observation Gazlowe," Thrall said, exhaustedly turning toward the goblin foreman that had designed the entire city of Orgrimmar, "but there are more things at work here than just her pride and designs."
"Mmm, yeah, that Warlock is a loose cannon…" the goblin agreed, "keeping an eye on him would be wise, although I don't see how'd you expect to accomplish it. Can you believe that the Dark Horde has their own goblins, ones that don't belong to any of the known Cartels?"
"How fares the construction?" Thrall asked, changing the subject from the goblin's business-like assessment of the Horde's diplomatic relationships to the real reason that the goblin had come to the city.
"Proceeding on schedule," Gazlowe said, picking as flecks of oil on his hands, "Ogrim's Hammer will be ready by the time you return from the Undercity, fully stocked and loaded, as agreed."
"Good," Thrall said. He had been hoping for some manner of tactical advantage over the Scourge war machine, and Gazlowe had offered a solution.
Doubling down on the zeppelin technology that had become the standard of the Horde's air supremacy in Kalimdor, the goblin engineer had created an even larger airship, required two blimps twice the size of standard zeppelins' in order to hold it aloft, and packed to the brim with weapons, supplies, and warriors. It would serve to carry a large number of fighters straight into Icecrown, taking them over the Wrathgate altogether and avoiding the massive barrier that had shattered their attempt to besiege it.
"We shall depart for Warsong Hold as soon as we return from dealing with the Undercity," Thrall affirmed, nodding his thanks to the goblin. Despite all his talks of neutrality and his love of gold, Thrall knew that the Horde had a deep place in the goblin's heart, and the favoritism that he had always shown them over any other faction did nothing to dissuade this notion.
"Yeah, yeah, go smash in that demon's head," Gazlowe said, waving Thrall away as though he wasn't intently concerned with the threat that Varimathras meant to the stability of the Horde. "we'll be here when you get back…"
"Thank you Gazlowe," Thrall said sincerely, leaving the goblin to his calculations and work, and departing the Hold with his Kor'kron guards, to meet with those members of the Horde that were coming to assault the Undercity. Priests and Magisters from Silvermoon, Druids and Shaman from Thunder Bluff, Shadow Hunters of the Darkspear, and warriors of Durotar alike waited in suspense, eager for the word to move out, but dreading what they were to face.
The undead of the Scourge was one thing, but facing undead of their own faction so soon after a vicious attack that had taken the lives of many of their warriors at the front was something far worse.
Nodding at the magisters, Thrall said nothing as the elven mages opened portals to the decks of the Forsaken ships. It would do little to ease the feelings of their warriors to be sailing with the undead to fight more of their kind, but it served the dual purpose of getting their forces across the sea as well as allow Thrall to keep an eye on Sylvanas directly throughout the oncoming battle.
It was with grave solemnity that Thrall remained silent as the ships started out to the sea. He had much he wished to say to his warriors, to warriors of all three factions, but this was not the time nor the place for such things. He trusted in the Elements, and they said for him to wait and keep his peace until a future moment.
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Jaina departed from Dalaran as swiftly as she could. Avoiding both Rhonin and the Malfoys in the process of making her getaway was a feat in and of itself, but she managed to find a private moment to teleport before being requested to give her opinion of the aftermath of Malygos' downfall.
It was rude to leave Draco to take care of the details, but she was tired, and in a moment of selfishness, she really needed a moment to breathe, and get out of the frozen north and the oppressive aura that she felt from Icecrown.
She would have gone back to Theramore, but Aegwynn would not have allowed her the peace that she sought. Neither would she find solitude in Stormwind, with so many wanting news from the front, and the reminders of the war that she was trying to escape. Therefore, her easy choice was the mountain of Ironforge, where she could bask near the fountain of pure mountain water than welled up from far below, and allow her mind to wander in a healing state.
She was not sure how long she remained undisturbed, listening to the bubbling water and letting her thoughts drift as aimless as the ripples before a presence pulled her away. "Lady Proudmoore," a familiar voice said.
"Glebin," she said, turning to see the High Tinkerer of the Gnomes, his strange contraptions hanging off a mechanized backpack on his shoulders, "How are you."
"In high spirits," the Gnome said, "but it seems you are the one I need of that questions. You are a rare sight here in Ironforge, and when that is the case it is rarely for something as personal as a quiet nap by the bubbling pool."
"I've… had a lot on my mind lately," Jaina said, "I needed somewhere to let it work itself out."
"About the former prince, Arthas?" the gnome asked, stabbing directly into the heart of her worry.
Jaina said nothing, but it seemed that the Gnome leader was well aware of her feelings, and she felt his stubby fingers take her hand gently.
"Do not let your heart be troubled by the ghosts of your past," the Gnome said, "There are many who regret past action, or inaction. But wondering on the what-ifs of the past will only consume you with sorrow and pain. We cannot control the actions of others, and if they were determined to fall into the paths of madness, we cannot follow them because we failed to prevent it."
Jaina had not learned much regarding the Gnome's plight and the loss of their city of Gnomeregon, but the passion that the High Tinket spoke with indicated that may have been many similarities between Arthas' downfall and how they had lost their city.
"There isn't much that gets you down, is there," she said, smiling at the cheerfulness that the Gnome presented.
"As long as I live, there will be regret," Gelbin said, "But also there is hope of the future, and to repair that which has been broken, which is why I strive to devote as much of my energy toward the restoration of my people, and to aid the Alliance."
The Gnome glanced at a small devise on his arm, and sighed, "Speaking of which, there isn't much time left, I need to get topside to join with the force heading north to the Undercity."
"The Undercity?" Jaina asked, wondering why an Alliance force would go to the home of the Forsaken when the war was in Northrend.
"Apparently, a rogue faction of undead attacked the unified forces at the Wrathgate," Gelbin said, leaning in conspiratorially, "Varian is leading a force to go investigate, and personally I hope that these do not have ties to the Horde itself. There is enough infighting without this kind of betrayal thrown into the mix of it."
Worry gripped Jaina, if Varian was heading toward the Undercity, the chances for an inter-faction war might increase. "I'm coming as well," she insisted, rising swiftly and following in the wake of the High Tinker.
"It's highly irregular, as this plan is supposed to be extremely hush-hush," the Gnome said, scratching his beard, "But I cannot see any harm in allowing it."
"But how are we getting to the Undercity?" Jaina asked, even as they rode an elevator to the top of the mountain Ironforge was built into, "There would need to be dozen of portals for that."
"We're flying there," Gelbin said, smiling in a mischievous way that told her it was a surprise soon to be revealed.
He determinedly remained silent until they reached the top. "Behold the height of Dwarven and Gnomish technology!" Gelbin said proudly, spreading his arms as the massive airship came into view on the large airway on top of the mountain.
Impressed was the least of ways Jaina could express her feeling. To be so very small compared to such a machine, one that would be capable of carrying an entire army into battle, was nothing short of astounding.
"It's extraordinary," she said, making the High Tinker beam with pride.
"Hurry High Tinker, We've leaving shortly!" a voice called from the deck, and Jaina turned to see Varian himself watching their approach.
"Ah, Lady Proudmoore," the High King greeted her, "Pleased to have you along with us, for the maiden voyage of the Skybreaker."
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Mahan closed the door securely behind him in the underground catacombs of the Scarlet cathedral. A tap of his wand, recovered by Lord Banehollow some time ago, made sure that there would be no disturbance.
He had been summoned by the Dreadlords controlling the Scarlet Onslaught, as they were nearing the finalization of the plans for these human fools and their blind hatred to all others.
"So you've arrived," Banehollow said, even as he and the leader of the Scarlet Onslaught, Mal'ganis, manifested out of the shadows.
"Varimathras has made his move against the Hordes and the Alliance," the Dreadlord began without preamble.
"A foolish endeavor," Mal'ganis chimed in, "He will succeed in nothing so long as the Dark Horde is there to galvanize the factions together. No discord will be able to drive them apart at this time, so intertwined they have become."
"Fissures will form, if not now then soon," Blaise said knowingly. Nobu'tan was a polarizing figure. People either flocked to him or turned against him. "The friction is simply suppressed because of their hated of the Lich King."
"Then he is a complete failure in both design and use," Mal'ganis said, but what specifically he was referring to Blaise was uncertain. He was still in the midst of learning about the grand design of the cosmos, and the great master that would usher them all into a new reality.
"Still, the Lich King serves as a useful distraction while we achieve our work behind the scenes," Banehollow replied, "much as the Legion before."
"Indeed," Mal'ganas was forced to agree, "The continue harvesting of souls for the realms of death only serve to strengthen our master's eventual freedom."
"Then is it time for the Scarlet Onslaught to join those in death," Mahan said, more than ready to send these fools to their own deaths against the Scourge that they so hated.
"Yes, that would be an excellent source of excess death among all factions, Scourge included." Banehollow agreed.
"We will spread the word to mobilize, and that the time is right for the Scourge to be destroyed, as well as all those who do not fight for the cause of humanity." Mal'ganis confirmed, "You will oversee them, Lord Mahan, and through their destruction you will learn a great deal about the power than you have been granted.
Theodore beamed inwardly, knowing that he was trusted if he was to manage this integral part of the scheme over all the Northrend operation.
"Soon our presence on this wretched world will no longer be necessary," Banehollow said, "and we can begin the final preparations for the souls of this world."
Without another word of discourse, the two vamperic demons faded into the shadows, vanishing from the room and leaving Mahan alone to depart how he had come.
He was well aware that the Dreadlords were keeping many secrets from him, and while they had taught him much, Mahan knew that he couldn't trust them to uphold their end of the deal fully. But once he met the great master than commanded these shepherds of death, he would strike his own deal, and then all he desired would be granted to him.
Stepping out and ascending back to the surface, he already could see the flurry of activity as the scarlet crusaders made hasty preparation for their long-awaited march on Icecrown.
Theodore knew they were all marching to their deaths, and in part he felt a twinge of guilt that he was causing so many to throw their lives away, but at the same time they meant nothing to him. The people of this world were nothing in the grand scheme, and would simply be the fuel needed to undo all the pain and suffering that this reality had thrust upon them all.
He had willingly accepted that great secret. This existence was unfair—cold and cruel—and in its current form completely unchangeable and inescapable.
However, it did not have to be so.
The great master, currently chained away for daring to rethink reality itself, had a plan to unmake this callous universe, and Mahan wanted a place in that new world where, perhaps, the suffering he personally had endured might not happen to any other.
In order to accomplish this, the great one needed to be released from his prison, and he needed the souls of the dead as the power to break free. Each noble sacrifice had to be made in order to achieve the ultimate victory.
Victory over death itself.
And Master Mahan was willing to pay that price with the lives of many others for that ultimate goal.
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Sylvanas knew that she had barely escaped her overarching plot being revealed by the probing accusations of the Dark horde leader. Nobu'tan's arrival at Orgrimmar had been unexpected, but she was glad that she held onto her story long enough to force Thrall to intervene and prevent the inquisition from continuing.
Not that she had been in any danger of revealing information personally, but rather she could sense magic at work on the part of the warlock, which was sifting through her non-answers and distracting notions, piecing together something was could have been closer to the truth.
Not that she had expected a lack of suspicion, which was to be presumed in the position that she had allowed herself to be placed. However, the level of truth that the Dark Horde could reach, and how they might react with that knowledge was not acceptable, and had to be prevented.
Now that they were separated, and Thrall among her people and adventurers sailing back to Lordaeron, which would give her all the time she needed to develop counter measures for the Dark Horde and their attempts to link Putress and Varimathras' plot back to her.
The easiest route would be to throw herself, as well as the might of the Forsaken, heavily into the war against the Lich King, which was not a large shift of focus. If anything, actually devoting themselves to the defeat of Arthas fully at this point was the best point of strength for the Forsaken, as they would be one of the largest single forces on the battlefield, and in a good position to have prime involvement in overthrowing their greatest enemy.
Otherwise, a de-escalation of apparent aggression in Lordaeron would be needed, to ease off the distrust of the Dark Horde toward their true motives. It would eliminate it, to be sure, but at least some of their outermost strongholds might slacken enough to fall when the Forsaken finally struck back from their stable base in western Lordaeron.
"We should arrive back in Tirisfald within two days," she informed the Warchief, as thrall approached her, wading through the midst of his guard and the other adventurers from all Horde races that attended them on this suppression mission.
"Good, that will give the rest plenty of time to assemble and then we can launch a coordinated assault," the Shaman stated.
Sylvanas was not pleased with this idea either, but said nothing. To have Alliance, or Dark Horde, forces in her city was not something she desired, as the knowledge of the weaknesses of the Undercity and how best to subvert their defenses was better left as private knowledge.
Personally, she would want the other factions to provide distraction at the main gates, but somehow she knew that Thrall would want to take the front himself, and prove that he was in control of the situation, to both himself as well as the other factions.
Sylvanas was willing to allow the orc to believe that he had control for the time being. But it seemed that popular opinion was starting to shift, as thrall's cautious ways were not as effective in the advent of the Lich King and other external threats of the same magnitude. Action was always the favorable course, and if the Banshee Queen was to select anyone who might take command of the horde itself, even though she personally did not approve, young Garrosh Hellscream seemed the likely candidate for the role of Warchief.
Honestly though, the idea of a single leader ruling the entire diverse body of the Horde seems unwieldy and improper outside of a true war scenario, not that she would voice the opinion when there were next to no one that would support her idea.
She would bide her time, and eventually a leader with a more open mind and listening ear would rise, and then the Dark Lady of the Forsaken would be able to make her move, and try to alter the functionality of the Horde to a more workable situation.
Granted, with their contestant state of cold war with the Alliance and Dark Horde, as well as the same threats that pointed out the weakness of Thrall's wartime leadership, the idea of moving the Horde to a more peace-like leadership was equally unlikely.
Glancing at the old shaman, who was watching the waves ahead as The Banshee's Wail plowed forward through the chop, she suddenly had a thought that the orc was seeming far older than his age betrayed. Something about the mantle of leadership seemed to weigh heavily upon the shoulders of the orc, and whether it was being responsible for the Horde during the height of the Third War, or else the conflicts that happened afterward with the founding of Durotar, but he had aged in mind, if not body.
Thrall was not as spry and youthful as he used to be, and that was adding to the view of many that it was time for younger blood to fill the fur-covered seat in Grommash Hold. Thrall would make an excellent advisor, and if not for her personal wishes for the free reign to do as she pleased, Sylvanas would have highly recommended that the Shaman step aside for a younger Warchief, and assist directly with the transfer of power to a new generation.
If the leadership of the Horde was weaker, she could do as she wished concerning the Dark Horde. Capitalizing on the hatred of Garrosh toward warlocks in general would be the best avenue to allowing her forces to continue their campaign to retake the Arathi Highlands, and push the Dark Horde back south and out of their rightful lands altogether.
Therefore, Sylvanas would throw her lot with the young upstart, and take what problems that came with it as they arrived. The benefits of anonymity would be more than worth the indignities that the Maghar's distrust for other races the Forsaken would have to endure.
Letting her mind spin on the eventual northward march for her people, Sylvanas put aside the thoughts of a succession in the Horde's leadership for the time being. She would need to work with Thrall for as long as he led, and fir the time being that included the upcoming battle. Her personal focus was to make sure that Varimathras had no time to say anything that incriminated her before he was destroyed, and that required the Horde's assault force to be the fist into the Royal Quarter.
It would be some time yet before their ships arrived north of the Lordaeron coast, but the Forsaken had little need for sleep. Their ships would speed their way east, and be among the first to arrive outside the Undercity in preparation for the battle to come.
That was at least what she understood ought to happen, but the Dark Horde and their portal magic might defeat that notion. She would cross that bridge when it arrived; however, and chose to focus on the problems she was already aware of, and finalize her own preparations for the battle here and now, long before they made landfall.
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Nobu'tan cursed the banshee under his breath as they returned to the high overlook where the majority of the Dark Horde army was encamped, watching the Wrathgate and making sure that the Scourge didn't make any attempt to take ground after the failed siege.
It was clear that Sylvanas was lying through her teeth regarding details about this supposed coup of her city. Nobu'tan had no doubts that anything happened regarding her people that the Banshee Queen was not aware of in explicit detail.
It was clear that this was just a culling of rebellious elements under her rule that the undead female did not want to take care of herself, and therefore was "permitting" others to take care of for her.
The Dark Horde was not the subject of the Forsaken, and Nobu'tan had no intention to allow them to become such, even in a roundabout way such as this. If they were to go to the Undercity, they were getting something out of it, more than just the death of another Dreadlord.
The first thought was to try to smuggle in some of the Blightbringer clan to infiltrate the Forsaken, but that seemed doomed to fail for the same reason that he suspected this plot to begin with. Sylvanas was simply too aware of her people to be fooled into thinking there were more Forsaken than there ought to be.
Their one opportunity would be during the battle, when her eyes were elsewhere, and that required that the Dark Horde get to Lordaeron first. Easily done with their power over portals, but then the problem was entering the city undetected.
"Voldemort," he said, announcing himself as he approached the lord of the Blioghtbringer clan. The first to turn was the banshee that acted as lieutenant for the Death Knight. Some older woman from their days on terra before the Legion came, but not anyone that Nobu'tan knew or cared to know.
Clearly the woman knew of him, or who he was before he was sent to Azeroth so long ago, as the glare she sent him was full of venom. Nobu'tan allowed the hatred to roll off him, uncaring what some underling felt regarding him.
"Somehow I knew that you wouldn't dare attack the Undercity without us at your side." Voldemort said, tilting his head to an odd angle as he acknowledged Nobu'tan's presence.
"There is no other with as much knowledge about those catacombs than you, it is only natural that I would desire you there," Nobu'tan replied, "We need to make sure that we gain something from this venture, rather than just being the Dark Lady's work dogs…"
The cold eyes of the Death Knight narrowed in thought. "You would be hard pressed to find anything that we do not have access to with Karazhan and our other strongholds, but I'm sure if we gained access to any of the private studies or libraries, we could get a useful bit of knowledge of information."
"I can't commit soldiers to a maybe," Nobu'tan said, doubling down on his resolve, "We need to have a clear goal to push toward in the midst of this, or else I want nothing to do with it."
"We could always hold the city ransom… humble the proud stature of the Banshee Queen…" Voldemort suggested with a shrug.
Nobu'tan hummed at the notion however. It was not a terrible idea, really sting Sylvanas for thinking she was in control. There could also be many ways for the Dark Horde to add their own monitoring system in other fashions than spies, if they really applied themselves. "We can leave that option on the table, as a last resort. But there are a few ideas we could also try, to make a leave a few surprises that may give us a better advantage out of this."
The Death Knight lifted one eyebrow, interested as Nobu'tan began to explain his idea, of monitoring spells and controlled members of the Forsaken through the skills that they together possessed. If they captured lesser members of the undead city, those who would be easily overlooked, they might have realistic candidates for spies, especially if they were unaware that they were even spying for the Dark Horde.
Additionally, the other factions still barely scratched the surface when it came to understanding the wizarding magic of the Black Harvest's homeworld, and would be sorely unprepared to try and counter small or hidden charms that could monitor and transmit communication in a certain area.
"It would be the best we could hope for as a guaranteed objective, among all the possible objectives that we could hope to happen upon." The Death Knight agreed, after they had gone through all the possibilities, spells, and means to control more sentient undead in secret.
"Truly, the ideal objective would be to capture Varimathras ourselves, and torture every scrap of information out of him before ending his pitiful life." Nobu'tan said, "I'm sure that the connection to the Legion through that Dreadlord would be just as strong now as before he 'joined' with the Forsaken."
"To have knowledge of the plans of the Legion this early after their defeat at the Sunwell would be extremely valuable…" Voldemort agreed, "But I doubt that the Banshee would even allow us to get close to her former right hand demon before killing him herself."
"It's a long shot," Nobu'tan agreed, "but it's the best we can hope for, given the situation."
