Another Chapter has arrived! As always, many thanks to those who've reviewed with praise or questions, and even those who did not understand and sought clarification through correct criticism, all is welcome for the improvement of my writing! Please, enjoy the next chapter as we start the downslide to the big 200! ~F
Chapter 164
Shadow of Ulduar
Jaina reappeared at the base of the Violet Citadel, just as Thrall and another, brown, orc stepped into the lower portion of the tower, "Thrall, wait a moment," she called, causing the two to pause.
"Jaina, should we delay," Thrall countered, "the summons sounded very dire, what's happened?"
"Bran Bronzebeard was exploring the ruins of Ulduar, far north in the Storm Peaks, and they found something… He won't stop talking about this presence he felt permeating the halls of that ancient ruin, stirring in their minds, chilling their blood."
The pair of orcs looked at each other, and Jaina could tell that the younger one, Garrosh is she recalled the name, seemed unimpressed.
"He said the horror that the Titans imprisoned so long ago, Yogg-Saron, has awakened…"
"I want to see this dwarf," Garrosh said petulantly.
"Garrosh…" Thrall started, but the brown-skinned Mag'har continued over him.
"To see the fear in his eyes, then we'll know if he's telling the truth." Garrosh said, facing off against the Warchief. Jaina could sense there were many underlying problems between the two, but this was not the time or place for such things.
However, as they started up the stairs toward where the others were mingling, Jaina turned to try to stop them. Having such a hotheaded orc in the midst of the likes of Varian and Nobu'tan was just asking for trouble! "No, no wait!" she called, but they did not halt, and she was forced to teleport up a level to try to head them off before they barged in.
But she was too late, and Varian had to break off mid-sentence with Rhonin as the two orcs entered, "Why am I not surprised that they are here…" he said, more exhausted than angry.
"Allow me to explain, your Majesty…" Rhonin started, but then the brown orc opened his mouth, exactly what Jaina was hoping to avoid.
"I thought I smelled the stench of Alliance pigs…" Garrosh said, hands already on his weapons.
"Control yourself…" Thrall started, but the damage was already done. Varian unsheathed Shalamayne, the glowing orb of the bonded Elven weapons gleaming.
"You want my blood?" He challenged, which seemed to be all that the orc needed to set himself off.
With a roar, Garrosh suddenly barreled forward, knocking Jaina to the ground as he clipped her with his shoulder.
Rolling with the momentum, Jaina watched for the moment that their weapons would strike, but both the sword and axes fell upon a third weapon. A searing spear of bright green fel flame had appeared between them, held by Nobu'tan, Grand Warlock of the Dark Horde.
"Enough…" the warlock said, wings of Fel and Shadow blossoming temporarily at his back as he used magic to stave off the two martial warriors. "There is more to this than you realize, and our petty infighting will only cause the Old God to have more advantage over us…"
"A true Warchief," Garrosh said threateningly, withdrawing and sneering at the Dark Horde warlock, "Would never partner with cowards and demonic-crazed murderers…"
Varian seemed as though he was going to respond, but Nobu'tan took chance to reply, even as Garrosh made his way to the exit. "Then you would isolate your own Horde, full well knowing that the rest of the world would happily crush and destroy everything you built for what you allowed the Banshee to do at the Wrathgate… I will enjoy picking up the pieces and merging the ruins of your faction into the Dark Horde then…"
Even Thrall tensed as that barbed comment struck its mark. Garrosh roared, turning and hurling one of his weapons at the Warlock, "We will never serve your demon masters!"
The axe glanced off the spear as Nobu'tan spun out of the way, sending it skittering across the floor, leaving gouge marks in its wake.
It seemed as though Garrosh wasn't done, but the swirling chaotic vortex held in the hand of the warlock was enough to stem even his desire to continue.
"You disappoint me Garrosh…" Thrall said, even as he turned to depart, "We will leave this matter to those with cooler heads…"
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Nobu'tan watched as Thrall departed. Garrosh remained, but only until Nobu'tan kicked the brown orc's axe across the room in his direction, where he was able to pick it up and depart with what was left of his dignity intact.
"I sincerely hope that that one is not the future of the Kalimdor Horde," he said, turning back to the others and banishing Magtheridon's glaive.
"It will be a dark day if that one ever leads the Horde…" Varian agreed, "but we can hope that time will mellow his violent spirit."
"Meanwhile, we need to devise a plan to address this Old God," Rhonin said, calling their attention back to him. "Such a creature cannot be allowed to manipulate events as he seems to be working toward."
"If Bran is willing and able, we will follow him into the depths of depravity and deal with this creature," Varian said.
"Judging from the last time an Old God rose and started to manipulate events, I feel strongly that the Dark Horde will need to be involved as well, in order to end their threat to my people, and our world." Nobu'tan added, thinking painfully of C'thun.
He wasn't going to let another of those creatures have the upper hand over him again. Better to destroy the entire region and bury that creature rather than let it continue whatever plotting it may be doing.
Varian glanced at him, nodding in acceptance of their involvement. It seemed that the anger that the King of Stormwind had lingering for the treachery of the Forsaken and the Kalimdor Horde did not extend to their faction at this time, and perhaps that was for the best.
"It's settled then," Rhonin said, "We will provide a contingent of Kirin Tor mages to establish a forward camp in the ruins, and both Alliance and Dark Horde will delve into the depths and deal with Yogg-Saron and whatever ills he had unleashed from the deep."
"Some will need to continue our pressure on the Lich King in the meantime," Nobu'tan pointed out, "We cannot simply abandon the fight that brought us here to kill the Old God…"
"I will take charge of the Alliance forces as we move into Icecrown, and join with the Argent Crusade in the far north," Varian said, "I suspect your Dark Horde already has plans in the shadow of the Lich King's fortress, and I will leave leadership of the Ulduar expedition in your hands."
"You extend a great deal of trust for me with the lives of your men," Nobu'tan said, slightly in awe of the control and wisdom that Varian was expressing. He had no right to trust them, aside from the handful of battles they had fought side by side, as factions, but to entrust his own forces to a Dark Horde leader spoke volumes.
"Rhonin is right, we cannot hope to defeat all these enemies on our own," Varian said, hinting at what he had been speaking about with the Archmage. "We need to extend some measure of trust to each other in light of these troubling times."
"Understood," Nobu'tan agreed, "I will lead the forces in Ulduar personally, and have my lieutenants see to the fortifying of our chosen location in Icecrown. I hope that we are done there quickly and can return to finish off the Lich King together, rather than racing to catch up after the siege has started anew."
"I couldn't agree more," Varian said, and together the two faction leaders turned to Rhonin, who stood off to the side with Jaina Proudmoore, surprise on their faces with how well both of them had quickly sorted out their battle plans.
"What?" each of them asked in unison, and the Sorceress covered her mouth to prevent from laughing aloud at the pair of them.
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Teg'Ramm observed the chosen location with critical eyes, as he and the Balefire clan crossed by portal into the wastes of Icecrown. The location that Blaise, or rather Tenebrous as he wanted those of the Dark Horde to know him as, had selected had distinct advantages, but also several glaring problems with it.
The establish structures and centralized location were very good, allowing them to potentially remain unseen in the midst of the future conflict, until they chose to intervene in a devastating attack, however, the same advantages could be turned against them. The wooden structures offered little in the way of defenses, and they could be approached from nearly any side, making their aggressive observation of the area mandatory.
It would defeat the purpose of being able to remain here hidden, but they might have been better served transforming the area into a more proper fortress, and spearheading the assault with their long-range siege weapons.
It would bring the full wrath of the Scourge down upon them, but with the right defenses, and this sort of location, they could be the lightning rod that would divert all attack from their allies and allow ground to be gained against the dreadful citadel to the southwest.
"As you can readily see," the assassin said, appearing at the ogre lord's side, "there are a number of possibilities in how we would desire to make sure of this position, it's just a matter of deciding and moving with purpose toward that end."
Teg'Ramm could not but agree, but that in and of itself was the conundrum. "But the question is: what do we choose to do…" he asked, glancing down to see if the assassin had an opinion.
"I'd say we bide our time for now, and wait for the other factions to make their moves…" Blaise said confidently, "We have this area secured, and from what I've personally observed, no one comes to investigate this location, not anymore, and we can store up plenty of weapons in preparation for the final assault."
"Waiting to attack until the Scourge forces are divided would be wise indeed," the Ogre Mage replied, seeing the strategy in it, "But who is to know when or how that attack will come to this region…"
"The Argent Crusade has already sent out invitation to the major factions," Blaise continued, "demanding their participation in a tournament to see whom among all our varied warriors are worthy to set foot inside the halls of Icecrown when they launch their attack. Judging from the haste in which the missive was sent, it can't be too long off."
The disguised human was about to say more, when a floating Eye of Kil'rogg swooped down between them, carrying a message. Blaise focused his intent on the eye and nodded as the Fel orb fizzled out of existence. "Lord Nobu'tan is dealing with another threat, and will join with us as soon as he is able. Apparently, there is some kind of old god, like the one in Slithus, here in this frozen continent.
Teg'Ramm bristled. If there was another of those dire creatures here, than Nobu'tan's life could be in danger, "did he request forces?" Teg'Ramm asked.
"He is sending for the Blightbringers, who would be immune to the whispers of such a being, as well as goblin engineers. Apparently they are working with both the Alliance and the Explorer's League, and he wants them to see about reverse engineering some of their devices in secret."
Teg'Ramm was torn. On the one hand, he was pleased that in the midst of this Nobu'tan had kept his head to think of some means of getting advantage over their potential rivals and enemies, but at the same time, it was exceedingly hard for him to see to the human's safety when he was not physically with him.
"We shall attend to him as well," he started to say, but Tenebrous shook his head.
"Nobu'tan specifically wants you to see to our forces here, in his stead, as Varian and the other faction leaders will be marshalling their forces. Apparently he wants us to move forward with whatever plan we feel is best to make sure that the Dark Horde is not discounted from the final battle."
"I understand, and will see that his wishes are fulfilled," the Ogre Mage said, deflating somewhat. It was frustrating that he could not fulfill his thrice-imposed command to make sure that the young man survived his war against the Legion, the Old Gods, or whatever else might oppose him in this world, or any other.
"We will go forward with your plan, then," he said, "and for good measure have enchanters and engineers prepare portable fortifications that we can raise in a moment's notice, if and when we face retaliation."
"That seems wise," Blaise replied, turning to depart, "I need to find the Blightbringers and relay the news. If you'll excuse me…"
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Bellatrix looked down at the struggled, but quite helpless, winged woman that the assassins had captured at this new stronghold.
Voldemort was also considering their new prisoner, and although it was clear that she would not willingly give them any information, her very being was of enough interest to keep them from killing her outright.
Chief among these reasons was the fact that she was clearly not from among the mortal races, at least not anymore. She had been one of these tall humanoids, these vrykul, once, but now she was some type of ascended angelic creature, with immense power over undead that far exceeded anything that Bellatrix could perform, aside from the last fragments of her magical core that she had fleeting grasps over.
Add to that that this was the first time one of these Valkyr had been discovered in Northrend by their forces, let alone captured, meant that they were either extremely powerful, or rare and valuable to the Lich King. In either case, allowing this creature to escape, even into death, was unacceptable.
Bellatrix had a feeling of what her master was going to ask of her, and she relished the opportunity. She had learned, over the slow passage of their time on this world, of how to adapt the possession ability of her form to a temporary state, to flitter in and out of targets to be able to spy on their enemies.
However, the option to permanently seize control of a new form, and merge her powers with those innate to that form was something she had not as of yet considered. In this case, however, there was clear use for that ability, and great potential for added gains of power through that move.
"Bellatrix, we cannot learn what we desire to know from this body so long as it is fanatically loyal to the Lich King." Voldemort said.
"Indeed, my Lord," she replied, readying herself for what was about to be asked of her.
"And we know that there is something precious here, rare among all the forces of the Scourge, and probably greatly powerful…" he continued.
"Indeed, the only one of her kind we have seen thus far," Bella agreed.
"Are you prepared to shed your spiritual form and return to the physical world in this body?" he asked of her, and Bellatrix felt her form shudder with suppressed delight at the thought.
"I am," she replied graciously, if not somewhat eager.
"Then do it, and bring this valkyr into the ranks of the Blightbringer Clan." Voldemort ordered, and Bellatrix allowed magic to pour forth from her form, slipping into the consciousness before her.
Her will was strong, the connection to the Lich King bound by oaths and measures of worship and gifts of power. But Bellatrix had the same with her Lord, and the bond between them was something willingly entered, with years of adversity and conflict binding her to the Dark Lord of old Earth, and there was no force of will that could prevent her from standing once more at his side, in flesh even if it was not her own.
Still, in terms of devotion they were evenly matched. This left the contest of wills down to personal strengths, where Bellatrix knew she held the mastery. Her understanding of Occulmency and Legillimency, even if those actual magics were denied her, were still invaluable in such a contest, while the Valkyr's mind was an open book, forced that way by the domination of her creator.
That alone sealed her fate, as Bellatrix was able to worm her consciousness deep into the undead creature, rooting out the innate personality without disturbing the memories, supplanting and eliminating the creature that was once Hildana Deathstealer, replacing her mind forever as the dominant host of the body.
With a shout of triumph, Bellatrix shattered the bonds that held her new form, wings spreading and undead flesh stretching comfortable as she stood. "It is good to be part of the mortal world once more, in a more direct manner," she said, relishing the sensation of the rotten wood under her bare feet.
Wrenching the helm from her head, Bellatrix let the restraining object fall to the ground, where it left a sizable dent in the molded floorboards.
"I knew you would be victorious, dear Bella," Voldemort said, and then she turned to soak up his presence, freely accepting his authority and power over her, which would shatter whatever residual connection this body had to the Lich King.
"Naturally, my Lord," she said, tossing the raven hair of her new body to the side so she could examine it. The simply braids were definitely going to be removed, but there was still the adjustment period that she would have to endure, as she regrew accustomed to having a body, and one far different from her original.
"Voldemort, Lord Nobu'tan summons you and the Blightbringers to aid him in the Storm Peaks…" a new voice said from the doorway, and the young warlock-assassin, Blaise Zabini appeared, only casually glancing at Bellatrix's new form, before focusing on the Death Knight that was once the most powerful sorcerer of their world.
"I see you opted to take control of the Valkyr, possession via Bellatrix I presume?" he astutely guessed, "I hope that you find a good use for her new powers…"
"Explain the reason for our summoning…" Voldemort said, and Bellatrix could sense the muted annoyance in the words. Her Lord was as eager as she was to understand what she was now capable of, and anything that distracted from that was undesirable.
"Dwarven explorers have found a threat in the northern mountains," Blaise said succinctly, "an Old God, like the one in the desert that threatened us before…"
Even Bellatrix now understood why they would be desired in that scenario. As undead, the majority of the Blightbringer clan could not hear the whispers of these vile creatures, and therefore would be ideal to fight whatever minions this Old God had as they sought a way to end its threat.
"I suppose there is nothing for it. No others have the immunity that we possess," Voldemort said, turning fully to face the assassin. "Where are we to meet the Warlock?"
"Dalaran, and from there the mages of the Kirin Tor and adventures of the Explorers Guild will guide the rest of the way."
A curious collection of forces, Bellatrix thought, but not unexpected.
Turning to her, Blaise added, your brother-in-law and nephew will be there as well…"
Belltrix nodded. It would be a slight shock to see her in a new form, but perhaps a embodied undead would be more welcoming back into the family than a haunting specter that she used to be.
"It would be nice if I could appear as my old self for them, give them a real shock…" she said, almost giggiling as she would have at the thought of the prank, but there was no real humor left in her soul. All the pain and torment had drained it away long ago.
"I can see what is possible on short notice before you depart, but I promise nothing," Blaise said, tilting his head as he tapped his wand.
Bellatrix nodded, appreciating event the offer of assistance. Some bauble to disguise her new form would be ideal, logically, even if the illusion of her old appearance on top of it was a selfish addon.
"We will be ready to depart within two hours," Voldemort said, glancing out the door where a mindless undead servant had been sent to warn the clan, and get them ready to march.
"Very good, I will have what you need ready by then," Blaise said, nodding to the pair of them and departing.
"Never a dull moment," Belaltrix surmised, which actually brought a small smirk to the face of the Dark Lord.
"No indeed, dear Bella, no indeed…" he replied.
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After the disastrous meeting in Dalaran, Thrall did not return to watch the Ogrim's Hammer depart with their reinforcements and Garrosh to the front lines of Icecrown. Instead, the Warchief decided, at first, to simply return to Ogrimmar and ruminate the state of affairs, but that did not last long before he too took a zeppelin, but to a far different location than the current champion of the Horde.
Mulgore was always a peaceful land, lush and safe, the perfect image of what Thrall wanted for his own people, even if their actions and the current state of affairs was doing everything in its power to pull them in other directions.
"Young Thrall, this is quite a surprise," Carine said as the Warchief appeared outside the High Chieftain's tent in the center of the plateau city, "Come in and make yourself comfortable. Are there Kor'kron with you who need refreshing as well?"
"No, but thank you for your concern Carine," Thrall replied. He had come alone for this venture, as it was in part personal as well as him seeking important political advice. "I had hoped to just have a talk with you."
"About your young protégé, Garrosh," the old bull said knowingly.
"Yes," Thrall admitted, "I am completely at a loss of how to guide him. Garrosh has many of the traits that would make an excellent leader, but his brashness, his arrogance, leaves much to be desired."
"You have to remember, young one, that this upstart pup was not raised like you were," Carine said, and while there was steel in his voice when he referred to Garrosh, it was the only thing betraying his disapproval for the Mag'har orc. "He has not suffered the same humbling events that you had, which made you the excellent diplomat and leader that you have become. He is all fire, all passion, and his drive for victory in his pride is all that fuels him. Wisdom must have place for a good leader to step forward, otherwise there will be nothing but a brute to bludgeon his enemies."
"You are right, Carine," Thrall said, seating himself on one of the stool-like chairs that the Tauren preferred for their frames, "but it is very difficult to deal with him, to try and guide him to see reason in light of recent events."
"Might I make an interesting suggestion…?" Cairne asked which caught Thrall off guard. Carine was not one to hesitate with dispensing wisdom, especially if Thrall had come seeking it.
"Yes, of course, anything you say I will consider…" Thrall said emphatically, as he meant it.
"Perhaps you need to consider speaking with the leader of the Dark Horde, and what he sees in his subordinates…" the Tauren High chieftain said, shocking Thrall deeply.
It was true; he rarely considered anything that the Dark Horde did, aside from the hostile actions that they had taken against the Horde over the years. However, Carine had sparked an important thought in the orc's mind. Nobu'tan, effective leader of the Dark Horde, had not set himself up as Warchief, but stood back from the public eye, even if it was truly his will and decisions that guided their faction through the ills of their world.
However, there was still a deep streak of resentment and distrust between the two Horde factions, and Thrall knew it wouldn't go over well with anyone, Garrosh especially, if word came that Thrall had made contact with the renegade clans and their leaders.
"I'm not sure how applicable it would be, with Nobu'tan being so drastically different from…" Thrall started, but Carine just chuckled, cutting over his attempted complaint with the low rumble.
"Who better to understand? A human, leading an orcish Horde, raised as an orc, to lend wisdom to an orc, leading an orcish Horde, raised by humans… I'm sure there would be more than enough comparisons that you both could identify with," the old bull teased gently.
"I wouldn't know even how to reach the Dark Horde, without physically going to their territory, which would be unwise…" Thrall said, struggling to find an excuse to not have this happen.
"I suspect that is not truthful, young Thrall…" Carine said discerningly, the old eyes piercing the young orc to the soul, "You know exactly how you can contact the Dark Horde, at any time, on your own terms… and I suspect that you know Nobu'tan will answer if you ask for him… You must let go of the childish fear of what the Horde will think should they learn of it. You are a Warchief of Peace, not a Warlord seeking conquest. Anyone who thinks you ought to be otherwise is a fool…"
Thrall sat there, utterly disarmed and defeated by the wisdom of his oldest friend in Kalimdor. "I… you are indeed right, my friend," Thrall stated, "I wanted to forestall any option of the two of us meeting again outside of direct conflict, but I suspect that cannot be helped. In order to preserve the Horde, and finally understand how best to handle Garrosh, I will ask of the Dark Horde their advice."
"In the end, whatever decision you make will be the one I support," Carine said, "It is your wisdom that leads the Horde, the rest of us are here to make sure your decision is as informed as possible."
"And for that, I thank you, and all the Tauren people, for allow us to lean on you for understanding in the land." Thrall said, rising and preparing himself to follow Carine's advice. He had known for a long time that infiltrators of the Dark Horde were spying on them in Orgrimmar, and while he had done much behind the scenes to limit their influence and capabilities to report to their masters, it was time to have them send a pointed message for Nobu'tan to meet with Thrall at a neutral location. The more interesting question was where for such a meeting to take place, as Thrall's default choice of Ratchet may not be welcoming to Nobu'tan, who operated solely on the Eastern Kingdoms…
Then he had a small idea, somewhere that Nobu'tan would be interested to see, and yet be safe enough for the pair of them to speak without being overheard or scrutinized. It was also close by to Orgrimmar, which allowed Thrall to slip away from the city unseen, but far enough that few would be able to follow him if they desired to.
Thrall was already composing what his message to the Warlock would be as he boarded the zeppelin back to the orcish capitol, idly wondering where he would find Gorosh, the orc liberated from Blackrock Depths supposedly, by Commander Gor'shak, who had been reported to Thrall as acting greatly different since he disappeared into those mountains years ago.
The likelihood of both of these figures having no contact to the Dark Horde, in Thrall's mind, was approaching zero chances. They had to have been released when they overthrew the mountain, and allowed to return to Orgrimmar to watch Thrall's people for Nobu'tan. The connection between the two Hordes now would finally prove useful, Thrall thought sarcastically, even as the zeppelin soared across the Barrens eastward.
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Tyrande mourned the sight of the Dream Gateway in her beloved Ashenvale. Lethon, a companion to Emeriss as the lieutenants of Ysera, had also been perverted by dark corruption from the Dream.
The ensuing battle had forced the Sentinels to strike down the dragon, in order to return many of their own to the waking world, as the dragon had tore away their spirits into the Dream to immobilize and defeat them.
Nevertheless, now with Lethon dead and the corrupted green dragonspawn driven away, they had access to yet another portal into the Emerald Dream, and another chance to find and rescue the many druids trapped inside, including Malfurion.
Storming through in force this time, eager to see if they had any path forward to lead her to her Beloved, Tyrande peered through the dense foliage all around them, trying to find the source of the corruption that was tainting this beautiful land.
"There, High Priestess," a huntress said, pointing toward a long line of dead and dying growth, "Follow it, sisters!" Tyrande declared, "We must catch the satyrs unaware before they can cover their tracks!"
As a group they dashed through the lush forest of the Emerald Dream, tear through underbrush and sprinting past strange creatures that inhabited this realm. Rounding a tight knot of growth, they burst onto the scene, as a group of Xavius' followers was construction icons of corruption, dark magic wafting from their bodies as they worked.
"Destroy them!" Tyrande shouted, her bow claiming the first of the vile creatures before they had a chance to react.
The line of nightsaber-riders leapt forward, pouncing upon those to slow to turn and flee, while arrows peppered the crimson hides of the others, dropping them. The attack was over as quickly as it started. Of the dozen satyrs, ten were dead, and one was bleeding out, watched in its passing by a pair of sentinels. The last, which had been caught in the jaws of a nightsaber but not crushed on orders of the beast's rider, was dragged before Tyrande, bound hand and hoof so that it could not escape.
Lifting the foul creature to face her, Tyrande spoke slowly and bitterly, "Where is Xavius? Where is Malfurion? Speak, before I lose my patience with you!"
The satyr laughed, "You know you cannot kill us, High Priestess," he spat, black blood trickling from his mouth, "Even if you strike us all down, we will reform in the master's service to destroy all that you build."
"I do know this…" Tyrande said, pulling one of her blades from its sheath, "but before we dispatch you, I will extract every ounce of agony from your flesh, and make sure that you break before finally sending you back to Xavius."
The hatred in her eyes shook the demonic former Night Elf, and he hesitated, eyes darting left and right to try to find a way to slip out of the doom present to him. "Both are in the heart of the Nightmare," the demon said finally, sufficiently cowed into speaking.
"And how shall we get there?" Tyrande demanded, pressing her blade until it left a thin line on the beast's neck.
"You cannot, not with the pathways blocked by our power and the guardians of the Dreamway turned into rapid monstrosities…" the satyr said quickly, struggling to rear back away from the moon-blessed blade at its throat.
"So if we defeat the fallen guardians and purge the corruption from the other Dream Portals we can find a way into the heart of it?" Tyrande demanded, and the satyr nodded feverishly.
"Good, that is what I wanted to know." The High Priestess said, before quickly dispatching the satyr with minimal pain and effort.
"Scout out any more trace of Xavius' vile magic in this area, then we withdraw back to Ashenvale," Tyrande said loudly to the others, "We need to find the other portals in Azeroth to open a pathway to Xavius, and Malfurion…"
The Sentinels were quick to obey, and after finding and shattering several other dark relics and artifacts that were scattered throughout the area, they departed, setting a watch upon the portal to make sure no further corruption seeped through into the Night Elves forest.
"Should we inform the other factions of this development?" Shandris asked, but Tyrande was torn on that matter. While the Night Elves had no eyes on the Eastern Kingdoms, and therefore having others search for these portals would be of benefit, admitting that they needed the help of the younger races, again, was a dire sting to her pride.
When it came to the Legion, or another world-threatening power, certainly the Kaldori would take whatever allies they could muster, but this was an internal struggle, the Satyrs wanted the blood of their Night Elves solely, and the Green Dragonflight were their close friends. Surely they ought to be trusted to deal with this on their own, and allow the other factions and races to work against the other threats to their world.
"I will think on it, but for now spread our eyes wider, and start searching even the other continents. The faster we find the remaining portals, the faster we find Xavius," she ordered. They would do all they could before reaching out for aid, Tyrande thought. It would be wisest to not distract the other factions as of yet, when they were so focused on fighting the Lich King.
The Night Elves would search for the other connections across their world to the Emerald Dream, and they would secure the problem before it rampaged out of control. Gazing around the secluded glade in Ashenvale as they started back to the east on the road, Tyrande spotted the shoots of new growth, especially to the south.
The Horde's lumber camp was there, a sore spot for all of the Sentinels, as they prevented the incursion so long ago, and continued to meet stiff resistance in pushing the Horde out of their forest. However, at the least, they were allowing fresh growth to return, and in time, the forest would heal…
It was a silver lining, and would do little to quell the hatred that her people had for the orcs and their defilement of nature, added to their slaying of Cenarius. The wound against her people ran deep, and would not disappear any time soon.
"Quickly, let us return to Darkshore," she said, pointedly turning away from the direction of Horde lands. There would be time enough to seek justice for the wrongs made against the Kaldorei, by both the Horde and the Dark Horde.
She still remembered the assault by the demonic summoner and many of her Sentinels who were wounded during the fight to drive the Dark Horde from Desolace. The fact that not only sympathizers, but actual members of the same faction were operating among those in Stormwind was another matter altogether, and set her blood boiling.
Enemies of the Kaldorei, operating openly in the halls of their allies. This was something that would be answered for, and if finding and saving her Beloved wasn't a higher priority, then Tyrande would be championing expelling those magic users from Stormwind and the surrounding lands.
They simply could not be trusted to not fall into dark ways and evil habits. It was the same principle that she had used to prevent the Highborn from returning to the Alliance. No Night Elf would stand shoulder to shoulder with those traitors again, not even after ten thousand years since their civilization was fragmented and ruined by the influence of the Burning Legion.
For the moment, she would continue to tolerate the easy acceptance that the younger races had for these problematic elements, but eventually her deep distrust would demand that she speak out openly against any who supported, or were supported by, demons and their vile magic. And that would only be the beginning of her steady purge of the corruption in the Alliance.
