Much thanks to the recent round of reviews. Life is starting to slowly settle into a feasible routine, which will also create a space for my writing schedule to return stronger and more capable than ever. Appreciated the patience and positivity while this has gone on, not that the posting schedule has been impacted whatsoever (as designed) but still, I thank you all. Please continue to enjoy the story, and I'll talk to you all in the next one. Enjoy! ~F

Chapter 163

Fallout

Thrall was not surprised to see that the Dark Horde had reached the Royal Quarter shortly after they had. The means of entering had been something of a surprise, as had been seeing how truly twisted the leader, Nobu'tan, had become from the Fel burning through his body.

If Thrall had thought that they could stand on equal footing before in combat, he was not sure about that now. Even as the demonic Nobu'tan battled with Varimathras hoof-to-hoof, claws flashing and eventually a spear-like glaive of Fel power appearing in the warlock's hands, it was clear that his strength in magic and combat had only grown over the years.

More demons surged from the shadows, causing his Kor'kron to leap back into action, alongside the adventurers of the Horde, while Thrall and Sylvanas advanced on the demon and part-demon as they fought.

Even as he swung with the Doomhammer, however, Thrall had to throw himself out of the way. The Dreadlord cast a flurry of necrotic magic, appearing like bats, out in a wide arc. The attempt to push his enemies away was met with only partial success, as Sylvanas flipped over the wave of magic, the grace of her Elven heritage manifesting even in her undead state.

Nobu'tan, on the other hand, had created a powerful shield of magic around him and barreled his way forward, continuing to press his attack. If anything, it seemed that the savagery and power of the warlock's attacks only intensified as he continued. Green Fel energy flew off the weapon as Nobu'tan spun it, barely being blocked in time as Varimathras tried to fight back.

The demon was being steadily pushed back toward the edge of the platform in the Quarter, and Thrall could see an opportunity to finish this conflict. Slamming the doomhammer into the stone of the platform, he let the Spirit of Earth resonate with his force of the strike, quaking the ground where the Dreadlord stood, and putting him off balance.

Nobu'tan struck like lightning, the glaive spearing the demon in the shoulder, before colliding heavily into the Nathrezim's chest and sending Varimathras toppling to the stone ground below. Before the Dreadlord had a chance to recover, Nobu'tan had already start casting Fel Magic, and bound the demon in chains that glowed with the same demonic light.

"We are victorious," Thrall said, looking down at the defeated demon.

Nobu'tan leapt down to secure the prisoner, but an arrow appeared in the Dreadlord's skull, ending the malicious life and silencing the menacing hiss of his bile. The warlock looked up at Sylvanas, who had released the deadly shot, with contempt, but the Banshee was impassive at her act of blatant murder of a helpless prisoner.

"Such will be the fate of all enemies of the Horde…," she said, and Thrall frowned at the outright threat to Nobu'tan and the Dark Horde at the pronouncement.

Thrall had words for her, but the sounding of Alliance horns behind them cause them all to turn, even as Varian Wrynn and Lady Jaina arrived with a host of their own in tow.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Line Break ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Varain looked on at the two combined Hordes, standing over the dead Dreadlord with a mixture of emotion. On the one hand, the Alliance had been the last to arrive, and therefore had had no chance to capture the Dreadlord for information about their enemies, but the deed was done, and those slain at the Wrathgate were avenged, so their victory was assured.

Strangely enough, the grisly face of Varimathras was twisted in a sickening smile even in death, the Banshee's arrow lodged in his forehead, shortly before the demon smoldered into ashes and vanished back to the hell-scape from where all demons spawn.

"So it is finished," Varian said, stepping forward. There was a lot riding on how this situation was handled, and while many would want Varain to try and retake all of Lordaeron for their people, he knew that Jaina would not support him in open war against either Horde, least of all with the Lich King breathing down their necks at that very moment.

"Yes," Nobu'tan said, the warlock reverting from his part-demon form into the guise of an old orc, and straightening somewhat, "We can return to Northrend and deal with the final obstacle that threatens our world."

"There was no time to try and interrogate the demon," Thrall added, a sidelong glance at Sylvanas, which did not go unnoticed by the High King, "but the rebellion is thwarted, and our warriors avenged of this duplicitous betrayal."

"Until the next time…" Varian replied scathingly, but he was not ready to provoke fighting. The Alliance had lost many good men, but it was not worth more bloodshed at this time to end the threat when all of them now had eyes fixed northward once more.

"The Alliance will be departing for our forward base now, if you care to catch up at the earliest convenience." He said, turning away. "Lady Proudmoore, if you'd kindly teleport us back to the Skybreaker."

"Yes, your Majesty," the Sorceress said, already channeling Aracane magic. Varian knew this would not be the end of the conflict between their factions, and war would eventually come to this place.

He wasn't sure when or how it may come about, but the Forsaken would eventually have to answer for all the monstrosities and abominations they personally had unleashed on the world in the midst of all the other conflicts that they had to protect their world from.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Line Break ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sylvanas turned away as the King of Stormwind and his flunkies departed. They were no real threat to her or her plans, bound as they were by their desires for peace between the three factions governing Azeroth.

No, it was the Dark Horde, and their warlock leader glaring up at her right now with loathing in his Fel eyes that concerned her. How she would relish ripping them from their sockets, and watching the life drain from the overinflated human's body. Unfortunately, surrounded by his own allies, and with Thrall there to try and interceded between them, it was not the time or place to consider such action.

"Until Icecrown then, Warchief," Nobu'tan said, finally turning his silent death glare from Sylvanas and addressing Thrall. "We'll postpone any need for settlement of differences until the Lich King is defeated and our world saved… again…"

"Of that, I have little doubt, Grand Warlock," Thrall replied, the respect cool but not biting as the two stood off against each other. Soon enough, once their silent contest was complete, the Dark Horde leader turned away, starting back through the tunnel that had been bored through earth and stone by magic.

That would require a great deal of work to undo, as it was a vital flaw in the defenses of the Undercity now, and Sylvanas knew exactly the reason that the Dark Horde had used it. They wanted to send a message that they could strike at her whenever they pleased, and nothing that she prepared could stop them if they chose to attack.

It was a loud and clear message, but she was just as capable of layering all manner of traps and preventatives that would make anyone think twice of trying to copy the Dark Horde's tactic of blowing up the mountainside to enter the Undercity.

There was a bust of magic at the surface, and Sylvanas could sense as the other faction finally departed her lands.

"Now that this crisis is averted, I presume you are going to take time to rebuild, and ensure that something like this doesn't happen again," Thrall said, his voice hardening.

"That is my objective, Warchief," Sylvanas stated, "And as soon as we are secure, the Forsaken will return to join the Horde in the march on Icecrown."

"Hmph," the orc gruffed, "We must return to Orgrimmar for the time being, and prepare our forces. Tirion Fordring and the Argent Crusade will be summoning the factions for the assault soon."

She placated him until the shaman finally departed her Royal Quarter. Only once she was certain he was out of earshot did she finally release the pent up air and frustration at managing keeping the full truth from all those involved. She honestly thought that killing Varimathras would have given her away, but for whatever reason Thrall seemed to believe her vindictive anger at the Dreadlord for betraying her trust, if only partially.

In truth, she had known all along what he was planning, and only the fact that her enemies had been the ones to suffer, aside from some of the innocent of the Undercity that had not had the time to escape during the takeover.

That was regrettable, and Sylvanas realized with hindsight that she could have done more to make sure that those would be kept out of the way, but she could not turn back time and undo that mistake.

Sending a runner to the bats in the Trade Quarter, Sylvanas instructed the scout to gather all those she had spread into the Plaguelands and having them return to the Undercity. They would be needed for the Forsaken to start fortifying the structure and undo the damage caused by the demon and his fighting with the other factions.

Meanwhile, Sylvanas would be able to take a short time to check on their progress in the Plaguelands, as well as the research in Scholomance, before finally rejoining the front northward in time to get revenge personally on Arthas.

The checklist of objectives was simple, but the Banshee Queen knew that the execution had to be spot on or else there would be countless problems to face.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Line Break ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Voldemort could tell that Nobu'tan was fuming at having the captive Nathrezim snatched away from them, especially in the underhanded manner that the undead witch had done.

Add to that the fact that they had no opportunity to gain any knowledge of their enemies, making the entire venture something of a waste of their time.

The warlock was silent as their forces returned to Blackrock, and split off from the rest of them as the Stormreaver and Blightbringer clans moved onward to the portal to Northrend, to join with the reserve forces and await being called upon again for their push into Icecrown.

Choosing rather to follow the Grand Warlock, and see what his newfound schemes would be, Voldemort climbed to the high chambers of the mountain, bypassing the young part-orc prodigy, who was practicing some elemental-based magic on his own.

The presence of this one was something of a mystery to the Death Knight, but he would not concern himself with more than one strange problem at a time.

Past the Fel-tainted Elves and their rooms, Voldemort carefully edged into the private chamber of the leader of the Dark Horde.

The young man was there, all illusion and baubles of distracted set aside, revealing just how far down the road of demonic metamorphosis the human had gone.

At least, that was what the Death Knight thought he was seeing. Amid the clouds of bubbling cauldrons, Nobu'tan labored, his outer robes set aside and bare-chested. The lithe form of the mid twenty-year-old was still strong, despite the smaller than average stature and noticeably thin frame, lined with faded scars of an older, more severe existence. The skin itself had darkened and changed to a more leather-like texture, appearing almost like armor as it rippled and moved with him.

As far as demonic corruption, it was apparent in the young man's stance, the way he balanced on the small hooves that had replaced human feet some time ago. Wings were tucked close to his body, trying not to knock into anything as Nobu'tan turned this way and that to address the dozen cauldrons in the room simultaneously. Finally, burning Fel-green eyes were nearly overshadowed by the mess of hair, inherited from his biological father, and nearly hid the small rise of horns that grew amid their tangled mess.

Voldemort watched the boy move for only a few moments, noting only that despite his magical aptitude the leader of the Dark Horde had not neglected his physical vessel, and stepped forward. Doing so announced his presence, and the warlock turned to gaze across the sea of fumes at him, almost bored as his mind wandered far from the mountain that they inhabited.

Voldemort knew that sensation, the freeing drift that occurred when consumed by a beloved task, almost meditative in its hypnotic routine. "We lost nothing but some time and energy," Nobu'tan said, addressing their conflict, "But the smugness of that Banshee galls me to no end."

"She is crafty," Voldemort admitted, remembering his own humbling experience with the Dark Lady of the Forsaken, "but we know how to goad her just as easily as she thinks she can us…"

"She is also desperate," Nobu'tan countered, hesitating, "We cannot trust that she won't escalate things beyond control if we make a move against her."

"Opportunity will present itself, in time," Voldemort assured the warlock, "But we ought to do as the other factions are and return our views to the North, and the Lich King…"

Voldemort wasn't sure why he felt that the conflict in Icecrown was so important, but it was like he was being drawn to that place, he and his Blightbringer Clan. It had the ring of something familiar from far back in his memory, but he couldn't quite place it.

"Yes, it will be our top priority," Nobu'tan agreed, "currently I am awaiting word from Blaise about possibly entries into the undead held region, that would bypass their outer defenses altogether."

Voldemort nodded, understanding why the assassin had not been with them during the battle at the Wrathgate, and turned to leave. Things seemed well in hand, and their leader was not wallowing in resentment as he himself might have been long ago. He would return to his clan, and organize them to…

"Why did you want to kill me, when I was a child?" Nobu'tan asked suddenly, interrupting any thoughts that Voldemort may have had.

He had not thought about things from their old world in such a way for so long. The old reasons for trying to dominate the British Wizarding world seems so distant and small compared to what they were achieving now, that it had nearly slipped his mind completely.

"There was a prophecy saying that you, or someone born under the same conditions you were, would be my downfall…" he said simply.

"That can't be the only reason…" Nobu'tan countered, "Afterward, you came back for me twice, knowing that the initial part of the prophecy was fulfilled. You waited ten years to try and strike at me…"

"Technically the first time you were just in the way of me getting the Philosopher's Stone," Voldemort countered, "And the last, well you were there, partly revenge for the first two, and partly because the ritual required an enemy… so I suppose vain pride…"

"I see," Nobu'tan said, turning back to his cauldrons. "I just wanted to know what set us all on this path…"

Voldemort wasn't sure what he felt about the situation that just played out, "It seems to have turned out well enough," he said, "given the circumstances."

"Perhaps," Nobu'tan agreed, "but who knows for certain what might have been?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Line Break ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Blaise was certain that the length of their journey was actually far shorter than it needed to be. The spider-people seemed to go out of their way to find alternative paths that the bipedal could traverse, without considering that they were perfectly capable of climbing or levitating in order to keep up with their three dimensional pathways.

Adding to that was their wariness to engage any of the fouler denizens of the nearly abandoned empire, the Scourge forces or the strange cultists that had at some point come down to the lower levels as well.

The level of dark magic seemed to swell from below, but it was not necromantic as Blaise would have suspected, but purest void.

"Something terrible was awoken in the deep, during the War of the Spider," their guide explained, seeing where Blaise was looking, "and ancient beast locked down in the depths of the earth. We have other routes that will not force us to draw near as we head into the heart of Icecrown."

"Any chance of it escaping?" Blaise asked, feeling a shudder of magic as the whatever-it-was reacted to their presence, even at this distance.

"We do not know, none have dared to venture too near since the Lich King's champion and the traitor king journeyed through that area to get where we are going by a shorter route."

"I think we are content with the safer path," Blaise agreed, turning to follow the rest of their guides as they made their way through the subterranean network that webbed through the entire continent.

It took two days and a night of travel, but they pressed on with little rests periodically, as they couldn't risk getting caught in the tunnels by a contingent of undead, who used the fallen empire as their roads to usher troops from one part of Northrend to another.

Blaise knew that Nobu'tan would want these tunnels destroyed, if only for the tactical equalizer to make the Scourge marshal their forces on the surface like the rest of them, but they could not risk losing the aid of the living nerubians for the moment.

If it came to it, they could always resort to demolishing the tunnels later.

Eventually, their guides finally stopped their long march, in a section of tunnel that had no final offshoots. "We will go no further than here," the leader of their guides stated, "It is unsafe for us to emerge into Icecrown, as the Scourge will target us with more vindictiveness than you. Up ahead on the right will be your exit to the eastern ridges of Icecrown, which overlooks the entirety of the Lich King's domain. Good hunting for whatever it is you seek in that festering wasteland."

"Thank you," Blaise said, "Our best wishes that your empire is, in time, restored."

In truth, he did not care if the spiders ever accomplished that goal, but their continued resistance to the Scourge was of help to the rest of them, and so he would not wish ill will upon any who stood against their enemies. The Nerubians waited until the assassins and trolls were out of sight before retreating into the darkness of their tunnels, and Blaise set his sights ahead, following the swifter members of their group into the overcast gloom of the northern bastion of the Scourge.

Turning to look out over the cliff that they found themselves on, Blaise was awed for a moment by the immensity of the region, and the hulking fortifications of the Citadel that they had to overcome after entering the glacier. Three massive gateways stretched across the wide valleys, each more imposing than the last if one was to dare approach the towering citadel, which dominated the southwest of Icecrown.

The fact that none of them could see it beyond the region because of the thick fog at the boarders of the land was an impressive use of magic, and Blaise wondered how the Dark Horde would be able to adapt such a notion into their own battle plans.

Still, they had work to do, and a forward base location to find and establish. Spreading out, the shadows of the Dark Horde searched along the high ridges and mountains, heading slowly as a group northward, hoping to find a location that would suit their armies as a staging ground.

The position from where they had emerged had good visibility on all side of the lowlands around them, but that also meant that it was exposed to attacks from all sides, which would be difficult to manage. There was also the towering undead humanoids to deal with, which would require a sizable force to expunge first, and that could come with its own set of problems.

Westward was too close to the heart of the Scourge citadel, and northward held a handful of outlying towers, but it seemed as though they were heavily guarded. That alone eliminated half of the valley from being decent choices.

Bliase was aware that the Argent Crusade had encampments and the northern and southern ends of the ridge to the east, which left the wide, flat shelf between them, which was crawling with undead and members of the Cult of the Damned.

Apparently there was something buried there under the icy glacier that they desired. It would be an ideal place to attack, but not necessarily encamp on.

"Lord Tenebrous," one of the shadows called, beckoning Blaise and the rest back to observing the village near where they had emerged.

Gesturing, the orc assassin directed their gaze toward the center of the strange village, where a massive mining shaft seemed to burrow deep into the ground.

"Curious that our guides had us avoid that particular exiting point…" Blaise said aloud, musing.

If there were mines here, that meant something of value to the Scourge, which would be another possible resource to deny them at this point in the campaign.

"I don't like it," Blaise admitted, "but here is our most likely point for a strategic forward base… We need to clear out these undead sycophants quickly and quietly, as to not arouse too much suspicion when we start moving our own forces here. Do it by the books, systematically, and eliminate all opposition."

The trolls and assassins nodded their understanding, before fanning out to sweep through the large, Viking-like village. Blaise felt no remorse for the villagers, as they were all clearly undead, their frozen bodies stiff and sluggish compared to the limber assassins of the Dark Horde.

Things progressed quickly, and soon half the village was silently disposed of, but as he darted between buildings to prepare his next ambush, Blaise looked upward to the sound of horns, even as a large winged creature started to descend down to the village.

The winged female looked much like the other humanoids, but radiated necromantic powers, and an aura of command and authority.

It was a risk, but they would need to eliminate this creature as well, if it came to and from this place with any frequency. Forestalling their enemies from knowing that this location had fallen would be essential to the Dark horde laying down sufficient fortifications to hold it through the duration of their siege.

Gesturing with his hands, Blaise signaled for the shadows to converge on the angelic creature, killing as they went to cut off any chance of reinforcements when they engaged it.

"Ymirjar! Come forth and present yourselves before one of the Lich King's chosen!" the creature called, the feminine voice booms over the cold howl of the wind. "Hildana Deathstealer calls for your bravest warriors to come forth to fight for your King!"

"Those returned to the grave cannot hear you any longer," Blaise said, emerging from the shadow of a building, presenting himself as distraction while the others quickly surrounded the winged creature. Making sure that she could not take off and escape was key, and the Trolls were already climbing buildings in her blind spots to ensure it.

"Mortals… here? You will suffer for daring to challenge the val'kyr!" the winged woman said, readying herself with an overlarge mace, which seemed an impractical weapon for a winged warrior, but Blaise was not impressed regardless.

Whistling the signal to attack, Blaise dodged back as the whoosh of various implements, bolas and nets were hurled at or over the winged creature, entangling it and rendering the creature immobile.

Stalking up to the creature, Blaise was ready to plant his daggers into the frozen flesh and end her life, when he suddenly had a thought strike him. The Blightbringer Clan would enjoy the opportunity to study such a creature, and see if there was means to incorporate this type of undead into their ranks.

"Why waste the opportunity," he muttered, ignoring the ranting of their now prisoner. "Take her into one of the sturdier buildings, and prepare to summon the rest of our forces. Voldemort would relish the chance to meet one of the Lich Kings "Chosen."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Line Break ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Garrosh waited unhappily at the entrance of Orgrimmar. Thrall had requested that he return from leading their forces in Northrend, as he had reinforcements for the younger orc to deploy, but he was not certain why he had to come himself back just to collect more adventurers and conscripts for the war effort.

As far as Garrosh was concerned, all the best warriors had already come with him from the beginning, so why would a second wave, comprised of their less courageous fighters, be needed? The Horde was led by the strong and the bold, and while not all held those traits, Garrosh wanted to be surrounded by the future leaders of the Horde, rather than the rank and file that would simply follow orders without any initiative of their own.

At least he need not wait too long, as mage portals started to open outside the city, and the army that had gone to destroy the demon in the Banshee's fortress returned. At least the rotting husk Sylvanas remained at her own lands and Garrosh did not have to see the crimson eyes over the sinister smirk that she always wore when they were in the same room.

Thrall appeared soon after the first warriors, and approached Garrosh, "Good, your already here, come…" leading the younger orc into Orgrimmar, Garrosh wondered where they were going, even as they took one of the few elevators to the top of the mountains that the city was carved into.

"What is this about?" Garrosh asked as soon as they were alone.

"You will see," Thrall said, even as they approached the lone figure atop the overlook of the city, a goblin. Garrosh did not have a high opinion of the little green creatures, but was smart enough to recognize that they had a great many skills and abilities that even the orcs lacked.

"Gazlowe, is it ready?" Thrall asked, and the leader of the nearby village of Ratchet turned with a grin.

"Naturally, Warchief," the goblin said, and pointed off to the distance. Thrall and Garrosh turned, and the Mag'har was suitably impressed with what he saw.

Heading toward the city, high above the ground was a massive ship. He was used to see the goblin zepplins before, but this monster of a blimp was altogether on another scale, supported by no less than three of the massive bags of superheated air.

"Ogrim's Hammer is ready for deployment, Warchief," Gazlowe said, pride evident in his voice.

"This is what you want to show me, our new flying fortress," Garrosh said.

"Indeed, this is our means of breaching into Icecrown and bringing our warriors to the Lich King's doorstep." Thrall said.

"I may have misjudged your intentions, Thrall," Garrosh admitted, "this level of cunning is not what our enemies will expect."

"I'd like to agree, but I've already seen that the Alliance have their own flying machine as well, heading for the same region," Thrall said, "Control of the airspace there may be more difficult than we desired."

Garrosh snarled at the thought. While he still appreciated the moves that Thrall had made in improving their efforts in this war, the fact that he was still playing catchup with the technology of the Alliance left much to be desired.

If he had had full reign to guide the war machine of the Horde, Garrosh would stop at nothing to finally pass and eclipse the human dogs, and their allies, in all manner of weapons and devices for conflict. The issue was the goblins, he thought with a quick glance at Gazlowe. They would only work for money, and not at a rate that was particularly useful or timely for the client.

It was a severe detriment to the Horde, as both the Alliance and even the Dark Horde had access to their own in-faction engineers and technomancers, in addition to contracting with the neutral goblins if they so desired. However, those in Durotar were forced to rely solely on the weedy goblins for whatever advantages they could get in a timely manner.

Still, something was better than nothing, for the time being, and there was opportunity enough to convince Thrall that they needed to be sterner with the goblins about declaring an end to their neutrality and joining the Horde proper.

"Shall we get underway?" Garrosh asked, seeing that the zepplins of Orgrimmar were already shuttling up soldiers and supplies to the waiting Ogrim's Hammer.

"Yes, the sooner we can get moving, the sooner we will see if all that Gazlowe has promised is true." Thrall said, shooting a smirk of amusement at the goblin.

"Of course everything I said is true!" the engineer replied hotly, feigning offense. "The Ogrim's Hammer will be far faster than anything those runty gnomes ever designed, and carry significantly more with less fuel waste."

"Hmph, we shall see," Garrosh said, just to stop the technical talk. He didn't know how this machine worked, nor did he really care, as long as it did as intended.

And, if this first ship worked as well as advertised, Garrosh would petition that Thrall have many more of them built to supplement the Horde's efforts across Azeroth.

They started toward the nearest zeppelin, but Thrall stopped as a young troll messenger arrived, panting as the small one held aloft a folded parchment.

Garrosh did not fully recognize the purple sys-shaped symbol, but clearly it meant something for the older orc, as he stopped and tore the letter open, reading through it swiftly.

"We cannot attend to the first flight of Orgrim's Hammer," he said suddenly, beckoning for a Blood Elf magister to approach, "Garrosh, we are needed at Dalaran."

"The city of human wizards?" Garrosh said, befuddled and cross at the notion, "Why would we ever need to go there?"

"Our presence has been requested by their leader. Something has been discovered in the North…"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Line Break ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Draco was surprised at how quickly the ogre magi had settled in to being in the human city of Dalaran. Perhaps it was because of how highly acclimated to magic they were, but it seemed that they were more at ease, even graceful, here than even in Dark Horde territory.

Most had not completely grown accustomed to their presence, but it was amusing to watch shopkeepers and others interact with the two-headed creatures, and under Lucius' strictest orders the Balefire Magi were perfect guests in the city. Not a single fight or commotion had arisen from them, despite some attempts from the various elves to provoke them.

Still, he was relieved when the Bronzebeard dwarf arrived, and threw all the leadership of Dalaran into great anxiety, completely removing all attention from their ogres in their city. Draco and Lucius had not been informed of the details, yet, as the Kirin Tor were waiting for the delegates of the Alliance and Kalimdor Horde to arrive. It had been something of a surprise that Lucius had been asked to relay an invitation to Nobu'tan for his presence in the magical city, and Draco was preparing for whatever honor guard accompanied the Grand Warlock.

That had been less than a day ago, since the dwarf arrived, and Draco was waiting outside the Violet Citadel for whomever would arrive first. The shimmer of arcane magic betrayed whom arrived first, and Draco nodded his head respectfully as King Varian Wrynn and Lady Jaina appeared on the steps of the Kirin Tor's focal point.

"Ah, Lord Malfoy, good to see you," the King said, a smattering of pleasure in his voice, despite the air of gravity that the situation warranted. "Hopefully we can get the information we need, and depart before the others arrive."

Draco had heard about the problems at the Wrathgate, and the following invasion of the Undercity. It pleased him that a hated foe of the Dark Horde had been humiliated in such a manner, but there was no place for that here.

"I must remain for Lord Nobu'tan to arrive, but you may go in and seek for Rhonin. Perhaps he will begin explaining before the others arrive." Draco informed the King.

"We will do so," Varian replied, ascending the steps and disappearing inside, Jaina in tow.

It didn't take long for the shadowy portal to tear open, and Lucius returned, along with Nobu'tan and Bannok Grimaxe. The Blackrock Paladin seemed to be taking his duty as Nobu'tan bodyguard extremely seriously, but the Grand Warlock was looking around, feeling the magic of the Mage City as though returning after a long journey.

"It's been years, but the magic here is the same as ever," Nobu'tan said wistfully…

"My Lord, Archamge Rhonin awaits inside, along with King Varian and Lady Proudmoore, and the Bronzebreard Dwarf, Bran."

Nodding at the information, Nobu'tan climbed into the Violet Citadel, seeming to know where to go, and the others followed.

They reached the uppermost chamber, where Rhonin was communing with another mage, and Varian was getting all the information that he could from the dwarf, who seemed mortified at what he had discovered in the Storm Peaks.

Jaina sent their ground a look of worry, but Varian was deep in his conversation and did not glance in their direction, so Draco directed Nobu'tan to the red-haired Archmage first.

"I do not believe we've ever had the pleasure of meeting," Rhonin said, extending a hand to Nobu'tan, "We were apprentices here at the same time, long ago during the second war, but I was always away from Dalaran."

"My time here was brief, and rather sordid…" Nobu'tan replied, accepting the handshake and watching the mage's eyes.

"Yes, Kel'Thuzad allowed a fair amount of freedom to his pupils in those days… a shame that he turned to necromancy and madness. We could have used his wisdom and strength in what was to come." Rhonin said, and Nobu'tan appeared uncomfortable at the words.

"Yes, but I did not come here to reminisce," Nobu'tan said, "What is the crisis that prompted you to bring all three of our factions here, so soon after we were literally at each other's throats?"

"If it wasn't dire, I wouldn't have dared," Rhonin said, beckoning Nobu'tan to follow as they stepped away to discuss the situation in private.

"It seems that we are to be told when it is convenient for others, rather than be part of the action itself," Draco said to his father, who nodded in agreement.

"I doubt that they will be able to hold back too much shortly," his father said, as they both felt the shimmer of arcane magic below. Jaina sensed it too, and excused herself to teleport away.

"She seems to be in a rush to prevent the meeting between Thrall and Varian…" Lucius mused.

"I cannot see why, the pair of leaders more or less respect each other and get along…" Draco replied.

"The battle over the Undercity has to have worn those feelings somewhat thin…" Lucius guessed, "Not being there, I wouldn't know the details, but the King supposedly nearly lost someone dear to him and his family."

"You mean Bolvar Fordragon?" Draco asked, "I never got the impression they were close…"