It feels like it's been way too long between chapters, but as I suspected it has been equally hard to get more written between everything required of me with all my other commitments. Fortunately, Winter Break is upon me, and I finally have ample free time to get some serious writing done. Hopefully I can start replenishing my backlog of chapters and make sure that the foreseeable future is well taken care of. Anyways, Relax and read, and enjoy the next chapter! ~F
Chapter 167
Pathways of the Void
Remus wasn't sure what Severus had meant before he abandoned both him and Sirius in the darkness of the Void.
But, at the same time, there was something else here in the infinite darkness. Remus felt himself drawn to a point far in the distance, which he could barely make out in the vast emptiness of this realm between reality, and his wolf heart wanting nothing more than to follow it.
Silencing Sirius' complaints against Severus and him leaving them here, Remus pointed, "I can sense something in that direction. This must be what Severus meant by how we needed to follow our own path to make it out of here."
"Remus, that's insane, it makes little sense." The Paladin continued, but Remus snarled, silencing him again.
"It's not. You need to quiet yourself and focus your thoughts on Harry, on Nobu'tan, and follow where your heart tells you to go. And I must follow where mine leads…" he said, understanding the truth.
Sirius was here for Harry, but Remus was not. He wanted to find those who had been captured by the Legion, and the Stormreavers, and forcefully infected with the same curse that only the Light of the Naaru had helped Remus overcome.
Wherever this curse of the wolf was, he wanted to be there and liberate those weighed down by the madness of the beast fighting the mind of the victim. He had the power to aid those in this case, and if that still lead him to Azeroth, all the better.
Remus saw in his mind an army of werewolves, freed of their madness and with inbred immunity to the Fel corruption and other sinister weapons of the Legion, leading the charge against the demons in the aid of their Light-forged allies.
He started, leaving Sirius in the center of the void, and followed where he felt was right. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, the pinprick of light that called to him grew larger, and while there were moments where he was distracted, or got turned around in a cloud of obscuring mist, he always found his way back onto the right path toward that growing destination.
He burst out of the oppressive darkness into gloomy woodlands, but the sudden brightness compared to the total blackness was still blinding. Remus covered his eyes with both hands, allowing his senses to refocus to having actual sensation rather than endless nothing. Breathing in the musky scent of an old forest, corrupted with the presence of undeath, he allowed his ears to fall back and a small snarl of irritation bubble up from within himself.
The undead were a particularly potent weapon that the Legion had employed on many worlds, and if they were here, perhaps the Legion was also.
Drawn by the scent, Remus slipped effortlessly into a feline form, blending with shadows of the dreary woodland, and out toward a bleak road that cut through the middle of the trees.
The source of the vile scent was there, a caravan of the walking corpses escorting some kind of cart down the road.
Surprisingly, Remus could tell that he was not the only one to be observing the caravan. From the far side of the road, the trees glowed with amber eyes as another group of creatures watched patiently.
There was a pointed moment where everything around them was still aside from the clank of the undead's armor, before the far side foliage exploded outward and werewolves leapt from the shadows, clawing and biting at the corpses as they effectively raided the entire caravan.
Remus mourned at what he saw among the other group of werewolves. Many were feral beasts, strategically placed and transformed in order to perpetuate this attack, while those that seemed to be leaders reeked of the Fel taint that was closely tied to Nobu'tan's brand of magic, which Remus had grown well accustomed to smelling over the long battles back on earth.
He would not allow this perversion of his kind any longer.
Leaping out as the great cat, he slammed down upon an undead that was about to bury a blade into one of the feral werewolves, and transformed into his lupine form. Offering a clawed hand to the feral, he winced as the creature shrank away from a non-packmate, rejecting the hand of aid.
The undead were rallying, and Remus acted, feeling the ground around him still brimming with life, despite the damage done to it over a long series of years. Roots and vine exploded up at his command, wrapping around the undead and dragging them into the earth, where they belonged, ending the battle quickly.
The Fel-corrupted leaders approached, snarling and sniffing at Remus, trying to understand who and from where he had come. "Who are you?" one snarled, his voice husky from trying to use the canine cords for human speech.
Xe'ra had made sure that all aboard the Xenedar had learned the languages of Azeroth, in preparation for the long awaited battles that would take place, and for that Remus was grateful.
"He is not of the Grimfang Pack, we should destroy him," a female growled, clearly trying to vye with the male for dominance.
"We do not attack or kill other Worgen!" the leader rebutted, whirling on her before turning back to Remus, "I ask again, who are you, and from where did you come from?"
"I am Remus," the druid introduced, "And I come from the Great Beyond, in order to aid all those infected with our curse, to free them from the torments of a mind divided."
To prove his power over the wolf, Remus shifted back into his human form, startling all those wolves present, even the ferals who could detect the swift change of scent. "I know the powers of the wild, and can bring peace to even the most dangerous of minds," Remus continued, "Take me to your Alpha, and I will speak with him concerning the gifts of nature and how we werewolves can be free from all control at last!"
There was a subtle change in stance between those fel-touched werewolves at the mention of their earthen name, as though they were well aware.
"Our pack leader has taken many of our warriors to fight in the north, alongside our allies, but we will take you in, as one brother wolf among many…" the leader said, still very cautious of Remus and his claims.
Reverting to his more natural state, Remus allowed them to lead the way into the trees, circling around a small mountain to a secluded ferry, manned by more of their kind. These glowered at Remus even as they summoned and piloted a small crast across the water, revealing through the fog and shimmer of a Fidelius charm, the island in the middle of the large lake, with a partially rebuilt keep of stone upon it, and scores of werewolves living day-to-day lives upon its banks.
Many of these turned to watch as Remus was led through their midst, smelling his strange scent well before even seeing his different appearance to the rest of them. Remus could tell that many were feral, but the fact that some were transformed upon a non full moon, while others remained human was a strange sight for even him, who had set foot on many worlds.
"How is it that so many are transformed, when the moons aren't even clearly visible in the sky?" Remus asked, barely seeing the pair of orbs through the heavy cloud cover.
"Our allies have given us many advantages, both through power over their strange magic, as well as countless potions to more thoroughly control our forms, and where, when, and how we transform," The wolf escort explained.
"Interesting," Remus said, keeping his reservations regarding any opinion about this sort of assistance. The closer that they got to the heart of the keep, the more intense that Remus could sense the Fel power that was clearly the work of a powerful warlock. Fel manipulation was clear, and he would do whatever was in his power to stop it.
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Sylvanas had been somewhat surprised with the haste and progress that Helcular had made with the tomes that she had brought him. While dealing with the reconstruction from the coup-attempt from Varimathras had put a halt to attempting entry into Karazhan, there was still a large selection of options for them to use against the Scourge.
There was no need for the Blight. That had been a weak means to eliminate their enemy, and make Arthas beware their forces before they unleash their true objective against them: the reclamation of the fallen heroes that he had slain over the years.
Helcular had been hard at work learning and processing the magic that the Lich King used to control his countless minions, and how to sever those bonds completely, and his latest missive showed great success.
"Of course this is all theoretical, Dark Lady," the Forsaken necromancer explained, holding up the Book of the Dead that she had liberated from the Dark Horde Death Knight so long ago. "Through the rites and magic I've discovered here, and what darker tomes survived the purge in Scholomance, we should be able to break the connection between the Lich King and his minions. After that, I cannot say…"
"We will deal with afterward when it comes to that," Sylvanas said dismissively, "at the worst we deprive the Lich King of his warriors and spell casters. At best, we create more Forsaken that can be rallied to our banner against him, and whatever else that comes after."
"My thoughts precisely, My Lady," Helcular said with a misshapen smile.
"We should depart for Northrend as soon as possible, to be able to test your theories, and make certain that we can do this thing." She elaborated, finishing a swift message to be sent to their secret fleet on the northern coast.
They would depart at first light. She had already sent for Nathanos to return from battling the wild worgen of Silverpine, and as much as he would resent giving up the hunt, it was needful that he be with their push for Icecrown.
With all that the Dark Horde, Alliance, and their own allies had accomplished, it was all to bring about this series of events, and place Sylvanas at the right moment to strike at her most hated enemy.
"I will await your arrival at the shipyards, Dark Lady," Helcular said, departing from her private chambers, secreted below the Royal Quarter.
She would attend to them once she was prepared. Sylvanas had special weapons to gather for her upcoming battle.
The Scourge would know their terrible rage.
It was time for the revenge of the Forsaken.
It was time that Arthas knew their true arrow aimed directly for his blackened heart.
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Nobu'tan wasn't sure what all the technical jargon that the dwarf was spewing in relation to what the strange device was informing them, but he had a few of the basics. Apparently there was some new threat, this Algalon, that was coming to judge if their world was to be utterly destroyed because of the old gods.
"Well, what are ye waiting for, ye rusty machine?" Brann was saying, almost ranting at the device, "Initiate Reply-code Alpha. All is well! Pints are on me!"
"Request denied," the Archivum replied, the machine completely neutral in the slowly more dire situation, "Reply-codes built into Algalon observer entity. He is both messenfer and message."
Brann slapped a hand on the console in frustration, "Well, what's this Algalon going to be looking for with his diagnostics? What are our chances?"
The device blinking lights for a moment before responding, "Algalon diagnostics assess danger of systemic Old God corruption in planetary vital functions. Calculating chance of Omega Reply-code… Ninety-nine point nine nine repeating percent…"
"Blast it," the dwarf said, turning away to look at Nobu'tan, "Looks like we've got a fight ahead of us."
"So now, we need to defeat the Old God here, as well as convince this Algalon to send Reply-code Alpha…" Nobu'tan summarized.
"Basically…" Brann agreed, before his eyes lit up, "Hopefully we can at least make that second part easier to accomplish. New orders!" he said, whirling back on the device, "Unlock entry to the Celestial Planetarium."
"Request denied." The machine replied, "Access requires manual verification of the four watchers' sigils."
"Four watchers? Sigils? Could ye be a little less cryptic, confounded machine?" Brann said, exasperated with the device.
"The four watchers of Ulduar: Freya, Thorim, Holdir, and Mimiron." The Archivum elaborated, "The sigils are tied to their physical and mental integrity. All four sigils are required for access to the Celestial Planetarium."
"How do we get the sigils from them, then? Just walk up to them and ask them nicely?" Brann said, sharing a look with Nobu'tan as they both guessed that fighting would be involved.
"Analyzing watchers status. Please wait." The machine said, before pausing for a long moment.
"Corruption found," it said after its pause, "External influence gaining control over watchers. Sigils compromised."
"You're going to tell us how to… "un-comprise" the sigils, aren't you?" Brann said after the machine stopped speaking.
"Sufficient use of force would trigger a reset in watcher functions, removing the external influence." At the Nobu'tan threw up his hands. Somehow he had guessed that violence was going to boil everything down to. He started to walk away, fed up with all the nonsense that this machine was layering on them without given any useful information.
"As for not endangering the sigils during the process, I can analyze each watcher's status and make that information available to you upon completion of calculations." The machine said with finality.
"I've dreamed of roaming the halls of the titans for years," Brann said, shaking his head as Nobu'tan exited the room, "I never thought I'd be pitted against their creations."
Rejoining his forces, Nobu'tan sighed in exasperation. "We need to go even deeper, and destroy basically everything that we come across. I suspect Brann will continue to advise us through these radios, but there is another threat than just the Old God to take care of…"
Quickly they returned to the central intersection, which the rest of the Dark Horde forces had cleared of their stone and metal enemies, and started up the staircases. There was a large gap between the top region and the path ahead, which Nobu'tan felt was somewhat odd, but as soon as the gargantuan figure rose up to bar the way, he understood.
Naturally, there would be yet another guardian at this point, to prevent any access to the large ring of passages ahead. "None shall pass!" the towering figure roared, the grinding of stone heard amid the words.
In the opening volley of ranged attacks and spells, a shower of shrapnel and large stones rained down onto their platform, and rose again as elementals. Sighing, Nobu'tan ordered their melee fighters in to guard the spellcasters and ranged fighters.
"I grow weary of this waiting…" Nobu'tan said, after some time of this repeated state, and drew magical power to himself. Focusing several orbs of chaotic magic into a dense projectile, he hurled the consolidated missile at the central body of the creature, bypassing the waving arms and head that tried to shoot beams of power from its eyes.
The devastating bolt exploded, blasting both arms and the head clean from the body, and making the towering torso topple backward, creating a bridge from its ruin between the two platforms.
"Master… they come…" the head sputtered out weakly, even as it lost all power and died.
The ring of five passages beyond made Nobu'tan bow his head in irritation, "This will take too long if we continue to move about in one group." He said, "Voldemort, Teron, Bellatrix, each of you take a group and split up, we dominate as much of this chamber all at once and regroup before taking the final passage," he instructed, pointing at the one way that was currently sealed.
It was most likely there that the Old God was hiding, with the corrupted Watchers as his own protection.
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Garona had to admit, despite the extended bout of rest that she had acquired, remaining at Blackrock Mountain and overseeing the progress of her son directly, she was growing somewhat restless. She had lived in the field for many years, and trying to settle down out of the line of action had been hard for her, even before watching over Med'an.
She felt the urge to take charge, as there were plenty of warriors remaining at the mountain, new and rising warriors that did nto especially fit the mould of the brutish grunt… Garona knew that there had once been a great subset of the Stormreaver clan that were purely assassins, working under Gul'dan by threat of force and magical oppression.
While Nobu'tan would never sink to those levels of manipulation, Garona had the great pull toward passing on her skills, and give back to the Horde all the knowledge that she had learned over the years.
For the first time since arriving at the mountain, she stepped into the massive platform where the warriors were training, earning the awed glances from those who had skills of observation. Facing one of the currently unoccupied training dummies, Garona drew one of her blades, the vile things that had slain the former King of Stormwind, her constant companions since long ago.
Banishing the thought and sorrow that connected her to the past, she hurled the weapon with great force, and impaled the head of the dummy up to the hilt, tearing the wooden bulb from the rest of the standing figure, sending it skittering away before the dagger vanished in a puff of shadow, returning to her hand.
Many took notice of that act, and plenty of warriors, especially those who were agile and subtle than their fellows gravitated toward her, acknowledging her prowess and wanting to learn all that they could from her for the glory of the Horde.
"Lady Halforcen, we welcome you to the fighter's ring," one of the bolder warriors said, and she nodded silently to him. These would be a greater challenge to train than the human calling himself Tenebrous, but she would mould all those that had skill into capable assassins.
She had never considered creating her own clan, but in the absence of having many missions to take care of, in addition to what she felt was going to be a great work of establishing their control throughout the world, more spies and assassins of actual quality would be needed.
"Let us begin," she said, giving them all as little explanation as possible. If an assassin was to learn, they had to first be observant, and be able to adapt based off their own information as possible.
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Sirius shouted into the black void after Remus abandoned him.
He did not understand the magic that had brought them here, and while he was hesitant to try and start off in any direction, where he couldn't see where he needed to go.
The only thing he had to cling to, like a lifeline, were Remus' words. "Follow my heart…," he said, trying to make light of the gravity of how dire the situation actually was.
Focusing on his duty and love for the baby boy that had been Harry Potter, now the dark warlock Nobu'tan. He had long ago put aside the anger and confusion at the boy's actions, only wanting to learn about the son of his best friend, and find some means of being part of the boy's life, more now than ever when they had learned that the boy was actively fighting the Legion in his own way.
Focusing on these feelings, he finally sensed a tug to his left, and looking in that direction, Sirius could see the faintest glimmer of some manner of light in the gloom of oppressive blackness around him.
He started to run, chasing the glimmer as it darted to the edges of his sight, but what felt like the Light blazed within him, leading the way as the darkness started to fade away. Soon, he felt small particles of cold on his skin.
Reaching up and touching a spot on his face that felt this chill, Sirius frowned as he felt the icy water that came away with his fingers. "Snow?" he asked aloud, before the light before him flashed brighter. The darkness was banished away and Sirius felt the freezing wind howling around him.
The frozen landscape told him nothing about where he had emerged, and the sensation of the Light around only told Sirius that he was utterly alone.
And yet, while there were no living people anywhere nearby for him to sense, there were others…
Undead, scores of them as far as the eye could see, surrounded him, seemingly having just been milling about. However, as soon as they sensed his beating heart among them, they whirled, blue fire in their eyes flaring as they sensed prey among them.
Steeling himself for the inevitable, Sirius drew his Light-forged blade, "I will return all of you to the peace that your truly crave."
Naturally, the skeletons, ghouls, and their necromancer masters were not just going to back off and let him pass, and he blocked the first lunging corpse with his blazing shield.
Filling himself with the Light, Sirius commanded blade to erupt from the icy ground around him, impaling and shattering the nearest rows of undead. Blasts of shadow magic erupted from the rear of the forming circle, but Sirius had weathered the very fires of the Legion. These petty necromancers were nothing compared to that. The reinforced armor of the Army shrugged off the petty shadow bolts with ease, allowing Sirius time to make quick work of the fodder undead.
The unfortunate part was that, for every undead he struck down, three more swarmed in to replace it. Strong as Sirius was, even he could not hold off an entire horde on his own. But he fought on, letting his desire to find and help Harry fuel his connection to the Light, to the point where his armor reacted and shone off the ice.
Again and again his blade struck through the walking corpses, littering the ground around him until the shamblers had to crawl over their fallen comrades to reach him. Twisting sharply, he hurled his shield, blessed by the Naaru Prime's light, at the necromancers. One's face was crushed by the powerful edge of the shield, and it ricocheted, bouncing around to other targets before returning to Sirius' arm.
Sirius raised his sword in a free moment, blocking the next swipe from a ghoul, and called down Holy fire to start concentrating the ground around him, burning away the undead flesh and strengthening Sirius as he battled on.
But the seemingly endless hordes of foes simply kept coming, and Sirius knew that his reserves of endurance would give out eventually. "Light, give me strength!" he cried, relying completely on the magic of the Naaru and his faith that he would find Nobu'tan to carry him on, and pushed forward, stepping into the thick of the undead swarm, cleaving flesh and bone alike as he tried to find a new position that was more defensible.
That was when he spotted the stitched horrors lumbering toward him, burping and gurgling as they moved.
Raising his weapons, Sirius prepared to face these new foes, when from above, the cry of some unknown creature distracted him. Hippogriffs, carrying armored riders were soaring overhead, and lances and arrows were hurled down upon the charging creatures, even as a small contigent of horsemen charged in. their leader blazed with the power of the Light, and Sirius had to shield his own eyes at the power throw off by his weapon.
"For the Light! For the Ardent Crusade!" shouted the mounted warriors, even as they crashed into the flank of the hulking abominations, shattering them and whirling around in a wide circle around Sirius.
Their leader swung his massive blade, and every undead the touched it was reduced to ashes at the briefest touch. But they were not out of danger yet, and Sirius would not allow himself to be rescued without contributing, and turned, charging the line once more to help his new escort break back through the ranks of undead toward the north, where a cliff rose up out of sight.
No words were engaged as the paladins fought, their mouths already occupied with chanting oaths to the Light for its strength, or else cursing the undead as they struck them down one after another.
Once they reached the cliff, Sirius saw the ropes that were thrown down for him, and he took one, holding to it as unseen people atop started to haul him up and out of harm's way. Projectiles and spells continued to be hurled at him, his his armor and shield proved more than a match for what actually struke him, and within moments he was sprawled out on the top of the cliff in the snow, while other figures, humans and dwarves, fired down at the amassed undead.
"You really caused a stir among the Scourge," one of them said to him, as Siorius pulled himself to his feet, "I've never seen them so agitated."
"I have that effect on beings," Sirius said unapologetically, searching for another weapon to lend his aid. "Head to the camp, the Highlord wished to speak with you once he returned," the same archer said, before calling for their group to pack up their equipment and retreat. "They won't follow; the holy ground of the Argent Crusade will ward them off…"
Sirius gave up the hunt for a bow, and nodded, helping to gather up the ropes and started in the wake of the others, to the massive group of tents and wooden palisades, all seemingly hastily erected in these lands. The Light sang off nearly everything as Sirius entered, and he found his head whirled in all directions to see everything. It seemed that, aside from countless small personal tents, there were five main pavilions, four smaller ones orbiting the largest in the middle. Each of the smaller had banners that he did not recognize, but seemed to be emblazoned symbols of factions and groups that had come to meet here.
The group led him to one of these satellite tents, surrounded by grey banners of a golden sun. the group of riders reappeared, thundering back from the same direction they had. Sirius figured there was another, longer way up for their mounts, even as they went to a nearby stable for their beasts.
"The Highlord will be with you shortly," the archer said, gesturing for Sirius to go inside and wait.
"Thank you," he replied, stepping inside the tent and looking for somewhere to wait. There seemed to be three main subsections, and Sirius was directed upon asking to the rear of the tent, behind some privacy curtains where a long table with many chairs waited. There was a map draped over the entire table, and it seemed that a meeting had recently been held here, as the drinks upon the table were only half drained, and the food still warm.
Marks upon the map seemed to be of troop movements, marked out in black, red, blue, and grey, as well as a massive group of rough figures, which had to be platoons and other forces, spread out across the landscape.
"I cannot help but wonder, why a paladin of your strength would have thought he could venture into the thick of a scourge patrol, alone, and win…" a voice said, and Sirius turned to see the leader of the riders that had come to save him. Upon his back was the massive two-handed sword, which even now hummed with overwhelming Light.
"It's something of a long story, but I did not appear there by design," Sirius explained briefly, leaving out details, "I had a magical accident with some transportation, and seem to have ended up off of where I was seeking…"
"If you serve the Light, as that explosion of power that signaled to us where you were seems to reveal, then you are in the right place," the armored warrior said, approaching and offering his hand to Sirius, "Tirion Fordring, Highlord of the Argent Crusade. I don't believe I know you, but your power is vast in the Light… are you one of the later Paladins trained by Uther?"
"I know no man named Uther," Sirius said, taking the offered hand, "I am Sirius Black, Exarch of the Army of the Light."
The other man froze at Sirius' words. "Are you really?" he asked, pulling Sirius closer and studying his face, "I can see it, the Light sings in your very soul," he breathed, "Then our meeting is most fortuitous. Another great warrior in our battle against the Lich King, when our siege of his citadel is nigh, is a sign of our impending victory."
"I do not know of what you speak," Sirius confessed, "I come on my own errand, to seek my godson, but you may know of him… he is called Nobu'tan, a warlock of great power…"
Tirion stilled, "I know of him, and I have fought at his side." He said, stirring Sirius' heart.
Desperately, Sirius squeezed the man's hand harder, "Where is he? I desperately seek to find him. Does he yet live?"
The man winced as Sirius' grip tightened with each question, "he lives, but he is not here, at least not yet. He went to investage a stirring in the mountains to the north, but once he is finished he is to report here, as the other factions gather to prepare for our invasion of Icecrown. His Dark Horde is represented already, but I do not know if we will be able to wait much longer before starting our tournament without him."
Sirius released the man's hand, emotion overwhelming him. Severus' magic had worked, Sirius was so close to finding Harry. "Where is their tent, I must meet with Nobu'tan as soon as possible?"
"In the rear of the camp, furthest north, but I tell you he is not there," Tirion started to say, but Sirius no longer heard him. He was off and dashing around the large central tent, looking for the indicated one. Spotting it around the left side of the campground, he started toward the mass of flags and banners, stepping right up to the orcish guards. He recognized the beings as the real thing, and not illusions that he had seen before on Earth so many years ago.
"I wish to speak with your leader, urgently," Sirius said, pausing shortly to register that these orcs rang with the Light's power as well.
The pair looked at each other, before one ducked inside the tent while the other waited with Sirius. After a few moments another orc, radiating the Light stepped out, looking at Sirius with a puzzled expression.
"What do you wish of me, human?" he asked, but Sirius shook his head in confusion.
"No, I seek Nobu'tan, the Dark Horde's leader; I must speak with him…" Sirius affirmed.
"As we already told your leader, Tirion, Lord Nobu'tan is otherwise engaged. Until he returns, or a more senior leader arrives, I will lead the Dark Horde faction that attends the tournament."
Defeated, Sirius allowed himself to be turned away. He was so close, and yet Nobu'tan, his godson Harry, was not here, nor could anyone tell him where he was or how to reach him.
He had no choice but to wait and hope that he returns to this place as all of these people assumed. It grated on what little patience Sirius had, but he had little choice in the matter.
Slowly, he returned to Tirion's tent, and found that the Highlord had waited for him. "Did you find what you seek?" the man asked.
"Not yet, but I cannot do anything but wait for him to return, hopefully," Sirius said, and the Highlord nodded.
"Understandable. Fur the time being, why not partake of our hospitality and watch the tournament, the leaders of the other factions are arriving soon, aside from Nobu'tan, and we will need to begin filtering out what warriors will join the spearhead assault of Icecrown."
From out in the open grounds, a voice bellowed out a cry, "His Majesty, King Varian Wrynn, and Lady Jaina Proudmoore have touched down upon the tournament grounds! Make way!"
"Speaking of such honored guests," Tirion said, starting toward the exit of the tent, "If you'd care to join me, it would be good for the emissary of the Army of the Light to meet the representatives of the various factions."
Together they departed and crossed to the main entrance of the large wooden coliseum, arriving at the same time as a large man with lion motif armor and a middle aged woman who's body rang with the Arcane arrived.
"Tirion," the man, Varian, said in greeting.
"King Varian, Lady Jaina. Welcome to the tournament. Your place in the coliseum is waiting," Tirion said, gesturing for them to enter ahead of himself and Sirius.
"Thank you," the young woman, Jaina, replied, "It's the least I can do to support this; we need to stand together."
But the King seemed to have a far different opinion, "You ask much of me, Tirion, to sit and watch, trusting that certain members of the Horde will keep themselves in check."
The bridled anger was palpable, and Sirius was glad that such rage and not directed at him. For his part, the King didn't even pay Sirius a glance, although the young woman did glance at him a few times, probably puzzled at his presence and aura of the Light.
"My people are here to ensure that they honor the rules of engagement. It will do your subjects well to see you in the stands," Tirion said by way of assurance.
"I'm sure Thrall will have his people under control…" Jaina said, although the King remained unconvinced.
"Perhaps," he said, "I doubt the effectiveness of this gambit. We would be better served preparing our armies for the final assault. But, if my presence is required in these games to gain your support in the battle, then I will remain. For now…"
Tirion said nothing more, simply nodding and gesturing for the pair to head into the coliseum, where other paladins waited to guide them to the seating in the upper region.
"That one is very distrustful," Sirius commented.
"With good reason," Tirion replied, as the heralds sounded again.
"The Warchief of the Horde of Kalimdor, Thrall, and Overlord Garrosh Hellscream have arrived upon the tournament grounds! Clear the way to the entrance!"
"Here the true test of patience begins," Tirion said, as a pair of orcs, one green with blacked armor, and the other brown with a pair of hand axes at his sides appeared around the corner of the wooden structure.
"Welcome, Warchief Thrall. Overlord Hellscream." Tirion said politely to the pair. Sirius merely nodded at each in question, keeping his peace in their presence.
"Thank you for the invitation, Lord Fordring," the green orc, Thrall, replied, "We look forward to observing these games."
"Speak for yourself Thrall…" the other orc, Garrosh, replied hotly. Sirius almost smirked, but held himself from reacting. This orc seemed very similar to the human King in opinion, albeit they also seemed to be heated rivals or at worst near enemies. It seemed that despite his holding back, the brown orc seemed to sense Sirius' amusement, and glared at him for a moment before turning back to the Highlord.
