Greetings, wonderous readers. Progress with Stormreaver has been slow, as mentioned previously, but there is a silver lining. recently I had a great deal of motivation sparked for working on the rewrite of the Darth Veneficus trilogy and have gotten a fair bit of progress worked on retracing my steps through the opening chapters, and revising them for better clarity and depth. Nevertheless, I hope to continue keeping afloat on Stormreaver, so that there will be no interruptions on posting on the 15th of each month as much as possible, so your continued support is greatly desired and welcome! Read and review, and as always, please enjoy! ~F
Chapter 168
Trial of the Champions
Garrosh did not like being here among the humans, paladins or otherwise. The Horde did not need their assistance in routing the undead, just as they hadn't in the Borean Tundra. If anything, Garrosh suspected that the involvement of the other factions had led to the death of Saurfang the Younger at the Wrathgate. While he dared not mention that notion around Thrall, who had cared deeply for the other young orc, he would not hesitate to voice his opinion that they were better off on their own in this conflict.
"I hope you'll see the merits of these events in time, Garrosh," the Paladin leader said, "We cannot win against the Scourge if we continue to war against one another."
"Wise words," Thrall agreed, but Garrosh was unconvinced.
"Words of a fool, you mean," he said, letting his frustration show, "The Horde will destroy the undead without your aid, human, or that of the pompous king."
The strange, other human next to the Highlord seemed to momentarily smirk at Garrosh's words, but before he could glare the fool to silence Thrall rounded on him. "Garrosh, enough!"
"Under my roof, gentlemen, I trust you will behave," Tirion said, his voice only slightly hardening. It amused Garrosh to see the vaunted Paladin showing even the slightest amount of emotion, making him less high and mighty in his piety.
"Of course, Tirion. I apologize for his outburst," Thrall said, trying to mollify the situation, which Garrosh resented. A true Warchief would never apologize for anything, especially if it was the truth of the situation. "It will not be repeated."
"Bah," Garrosh said, frustrated.
"If you would follow me, then," the paladin said, leading them inside the wooden structure.
Mercifully, they at least had a private section of the stands that was separated from the other factions by a wall of their own people, who had come to watch their champions battle for the right to join the initial rush on Icecrown.
Sweeping the row to seats that surrounded the ring of battle down below, Garrosh could easily tell that the Highlord of the Crusaders had done what he could to separate the various factions, dispersing his own paladins as buffers between the other three factions. Across the way, the Alliance King was there, glowering at the display, even as champions started to make their way from outside to the fighting floor.
Curious of all, however, was the absence of the high leadership of the Dark Horde. A seat had been left unoccupied, but still the events started to get underward, with selected members of the various factions riding in upon mounts, apparently intent on jousting with long lances against each other.
Garrosh sighed at the complete impracticality of the weapons, but he like the others were distracted as the Dark Horde's members appeared to announce their champions.
An entire row of their seated spectators rose as the doors opened wide for their people, drums and their terrible pipes flew into frenzy, even as their people stamped their feet to rally their warriors on the field. The blaring sound was unnerving, but the effect on their champions was clear, as they rode in heads held high and proud of their colors and representation.
"That is most unexpected," Thrall said casually at Garrosh's side, and the Mag'har warrior leaned in to see what he missed that the Warchief must have spotted.
"Those are children leading the music," Thrall indicated, and Garrosh looked again, eyes widening as he also spotted the youths that in attendance. The Dark Horde's spectators were predominantly young, far too young to actually participate in the battle ahead, and suddenly he understood the vigor that they were showing. "The Dark Horde is already training the next generation to not only fight in battle, but to find glory in combat," he said, actually impressed.
"You can see the pride in their eyes," Thrall added, "They respect their warriors, and do not feel the shame of our past on this world. Nobu'tan has done what I have fought for years in far shorter of a time."
The Shaman bowed his head, "The shame that the demons placed over our people has hung as a heavy weight on most orcs, surely you've noticed in the street of Orgrimmar. But the orcs of the Dark Horde do not hang their heads in shame, but stand tall and proud again." He said wistfully.
"As true orcs should," Garrosh added. He suddenly felt very much for the plight of Thrall against this. Here was another Horde, which had embraced the power of the demons, accomplishing all that he himself had hoped for his people in a far more efficient and tantamount way. While Garrosh was sure that he and the warchief would never see eye to eye on many matters, their agreement that the warlocks should not dominate the orcish race was the bedrock of their tolerance. However, the evidence was staring them right in the face, that trying to atone for their past was not as effective as simply owning it, proudly.
He would never agree with the Dark Horde, their warlock overlord was as deceitful and cruel as any leader of the old Horde, who had plagued the Mag'har on Outland, but he could respect their means of accomplishing great feats for the whole of their people.
What did concern him, aside from the clear show of future that the Dark Horde was portraying, was the myriad of races that made up their faction. Where the Horde of Kalimdor and even the Alliance had a half dozen races among their number, the Dark Horde boasted twice that number, centaur and harpy-like creatures mixing in seamlessly with their orcs, ogres, trolls, and even a smattering of elves now among them.
"So the Felblood Elves that Kael'thas had betrayed to the Legion went to the Dark Horde," Thrall said, interested in the small detail. "Lor'themar had mentioned that a number of their high-ranking magisters has disappeared when the Sunwell was purified, but we had not suspected this."
Clearly, this was the case, as Garrosh noticed the harsh looks from the Blood Elves in their number for the champion among the Dark Horde, even as he summoned a fiery warhorse from the Fel worlds.
"The Dark Horde attracts allies like flies on fresh manure," Garrosh said, "It won't matter, they are corrupted from within by the Fel, and would not stand a chance against our armies in battle."
"You have not faced them in battle, Garrosh," Thrall chided, and this time Garrosh could sense the edge in the Warchief's voice. He was not speaking in generalities, but from real experience, "Their manner of battle is quite unlike anything you would expect. They took the Arathi Highlands by force from our own people, and held it to this day by force of arms and their might of magic. Underestimate them at your peril…"
Garrosh fell silent, taking the words to heart. If Thrall had actually faced the Dark Horde in battle, and they had not prevailed, he certainly had to reconsider how well his own tactics would fare. Garrosh, despite all the flaws he saw in Thrall, respected the orc's military mind, and his ability to create and adapt strategy in battle.
If he couldn't overcome them, Garrosh would have to study their battles here, and make sure that he learned all he could about how the Dark Horde fought in order to prove that they, the Horde that rejected the warlocks of old, were superior. In retrospect, there may be a great amount of value to these little games after all…
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Teron was not sure about Lord Nobu'tan's plan for them to split up, nevertheless he would obey the commands of the Grand Warlock.
Storming down the staircase, the two clans of death assaulted the stone guardians who guarded the various corridors, as well as the massive female statue that patrolled the entire ring. She, and her large feline companions, were destroyed with little struggle, leaving the various warriors to divide among the chosen leaders and take their separate directions.
Teron himself took those who would follow, primarily his own Shadowmoon clan, and stormed the middle passage, where the scent of life was greatest. Here he felt his command over death would be best used, as the garden-like section of the area was overpoweringly dense, and the sentient foliage itself seemed ready to strike back at any who trod among their trees.
The voice of the sentient machine spoke as they entered, "Commencing watcher Freya status analysis… Watcher powers augmented by presence of elder servants…"
"Good to know," Teron muttered, "We eliminate these elders, and they weaken the guardian."
"Warning," the machine chimed in response, "destruction of elder servants will result in loss of enhancements of watcher Freya. However, permanent damage to Freya's person and possessions, including her watcher sigil, highly probable…"
"Blast," Teron said, disappointed, "so much for that notion. Nevertheless, we shall defeat this being and claim the sigil that she holds."
However, before they could even challenge the guardian of the sigil, they had to fight their way through the living foliage and strange creatures that inhabited the area, and reacted quite violently to the encroaching undead of the Shadowmoon clan.
Fortunately, this was where the wielders of death magic thrived, and those living foes withered away before the spells ripped the life essence from their forms. Teron had spent an extended amount of time watching his contemporary, Voldemort, and his alternate methods of tapping into and harnessing death itself.
The bolt of instant killing, which was something of an exclusive specialty of the Blightbringer Clan, as well as those members of the Stormreaver elite, had taken time to unravel the secrets of, but Teron had succeeded, and spread the knowledge throughout the Shadowmoon, and volleys of the deadly green beams slew their enemies with extreme efficiency.
None of the bodies were worth raising, even as puppets to throw against the guardian, as they encircled and began to engage the hulking creature.
"The Conservatory must be protected! Elders grant me your strength!" the female giant-like creature declared, striding toward the nearest Death Knight and lashing out with her hands.
The surge of life magic heralded the power that flooded from the far corners of the chamber, and the battle began. The giantess could slam their armored warriors about, but between the power of necromancy and what few healers that they had for their living, the Shadowmoon were able to weather the attacks.
Slowly, they allowed their enemy's strength to be spent on their reinforced numbers, and Teron was confident that their battle of attrition would prove to be their victory. Nevertheless, he was prepared for the unexpected, and when the giantess started to channel her life-bound magic, he was already wary.
"Children, assist me!" she called, beckoning more of the living plants and tenders to swarm upon the rear of their ranks. Clearly, the strategy was to try to remove their casters, but what the Keeper did not factor in was that she had unwittingly provided the necromancy clan more life energy to spread around their warriors.
Teron grinned as another wash of energy spread over him from a nearby necrolyte. They would have strength and to spare for this fight, even if the Keeper decided to turn her healing energy on herself… their victory was inevitable.
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Severus had no idea where the Void portal would take him, but anywhere was better than being trapped on the Lightforged ship with the dominating Naaru Prime. While he indeed had the same goal as the Army of the Light, the downfall of the Legion in revenge for the loss of their homeworld, he wanted to fight his own way, not the prescribed method that Xe'ra had demanded of all those who followed her.
But to emerge from his portal, somewhat disoriented, into a dark stone chamber was not what he expected. From what Severus could sense, this was a nexus of shadow, directly under a beacon of Light magic, hidden in plain sight by the oppressive magic above.
The darkness did not affect his sight, but the problem was that Severus could not find any exit from this chamber, meaning that it was hidden both physically and magically from discovery. "Nothing is hidden from the shadows for long," he said, tapping into the power all around him and sending it to seek anything that was shrouded from him.
Within a few moments, the hidden door was revealed, and Severus pressed the loose brick that allowed the entire wall to swing away, releasing the shadow mage into the next chamber. The alcoves all along the corridor told him precisely where he was, and Severus was glad that the concept of being surrounded by the dead did not bother him.
These catacombs were clearly disused, as the layers of dust were thick on the floor, so Severus had little concerning him as he started to wander the corridors, seeking an exit to find out where he had been transported to. Clearly, it was Azeroth, but it could be anywhere on that wartorn world.
The shadows whispered the direction that Severus needed to go, and soon he found a staircase leading upward into a better-kept chamber. Torches were lit, allowing Severus to see with his natural eyes again. Unfortunately, that also meant that other beings were near. Depending on where he was, his ability to blend in would be anything from simple to impossible.
Carefully peering around corners before he proceeded through the upper levels of the catacombs, and he caught the glimpse of humans, which caused him great relief. Despite his sallow appearance, he could not be mistaken for anything other than human, and would be able to blend into any sort of community and learn what he needed in order to proceed.
Unfortunately, it seemed that his presence did not go completely unnoticed. When Severus finally found the second set of stairs leading up to what seemed like the ground level of the structure, a figure was waiting for him.
"Greetings, my son," the older man said, his priestly vestments leaving no doubt as to the location that Severus had appeared in.
Despite the light-oriented nature that the man seemed to exude, Severus had stronger senses for magical auras than most, and could see the faint whispers of the void that clung to this old man like a hidden shroud.
This put the shadow mage on edge, and while he wished to call upon his magic to aid him, he knew better than to draw attention to himself in a place like this, with so many unknowns affecting how he would escape. "I know many of the magic users of Stormwind," the old man said, stepping forward confidently, as though thinking that Severus was completely harmless to him, "but I confess that I do not know who you are, friend… what brings you to the Cathedral of Light?"
"Need drives me, and shadows take me whither I go," Severus replied cryptically. Only a practitioner of pure void would have understood the simple phrase for what it was, and the fact that it made no effect on the old man told him that, while a secret user of void magic, he was corrupted by the whispers of the Void Lords, or more likely their servants of this world.
"Interesting," the man said, "Indeed I do sense the magic of the shadows upon you in droves friend, and I would be remiss if I did not hear what story you have to tell regarding how you came to be in this place, the beacon of most Holy Light…"
The man was slowly trying to herd Severus back toward the catacombs, away from others most likely, and his need to continue portraying a grandfatherly holy man. It was eerily much like Dumbledore's tactics from long ago, before the Legion assaulted their world and he was forced to take up the role of warrior and leader directly.
Severus quickly calculated his choices. While he suspected he could easily surprise this man with his powers, they had been locked away for so long that Severus was not sure exactly how atrophied his magic was. It also didn't help that crossing through the void as a shadow wielder was taxing, especially when bringing along others that were not like him, or in the case of Black the polar opposite in allegiance.
Severus would be hard pressed to put up too much of a fight until he was recovered, and confirmed the return of all his strength in the Void, while this old man was at his fullest strength. Severus learned long ago to not allow the façade of age betray one's strength in magic. "Perhaps it would be best to have this conversation away from prying ears," the man said, gesturing for Severus to lead the way back into the darkened tunnels, "especially those who would misunderstand our motives and purposes…"
The sinister intention told Severus that this man wanted knowledge from him, and desperately. Clearly, his magic had sounded well throughout the cathedral when he had arrived, and probably was a technique that this man, the strongest shadow user in the area, had never contemplated. The greed was well hidden behind the man's eyes, but Severus could sense it in the air.
At the very least there was comfort that, as long as Severus supposedly had information that this cleric wanted, there was next to zero chance that he would be harmed.
As long as he kept himself alive and aloof of expending all the information that this man supposedly wanted, as well as gaining a bit of information himself, then he would be able to regain his strength and make a break for it easily enough.
"Im sure that that would be best," he said, in that light, hoping to keep guards low and amiable so he was underestimated.
"Of course it is," the man said, guiding Severus as they retraced his steps back to the original hidden chamber in the bowels of the catacombs.
"I will admit," Severus said, probing for some basic information, "I did arrive here quite unpredictably, and I could use a small amount of information myself."
"All will be explained in due time, brother," the old man said, even as the secret wall panel shut, and he sighed, allowing the aura of Light magic to fade away. "As soon as we get you away from the prying ears of those fools that still follow the Light, all will be made clear.
Carefully pulling a strange ring from deep within his robes, the man's eye gleamed with a darkness that looked drastically unnatural on the old face as he slipped it on, and spoke in a language that even Severus had been trained to fear.
"Gag vwah gag yyqzz ez hoz shAth'yar plahf," the man intoned, weaving a beacon of shadows, calling to something to come through to them. And in response a void gateway opened, not a wild or powerful as the one Severus came through, but still connecting someone far on this world to this place.
A hulking figure stepped through, and if not for the age and mannerisms of the two-headed troll, Severus might have thought it the beast of Potter's.
"Lord Cho'Gall," the old man said, chuckling to himself, "I have found someone most worthy of our attention."
"And who might this be?" (Yes, who sings in shadows most pure) the head replied, each seeming to hold its own conversation.
Severus dared not to speak, sensing instantly that he had greatly underestimated the old man and his connections. There were shadow powers on this world, tainted by the might of the Void Lords and their minions, and he had been set at the heart of their power, wherever that was.
"He knows of the deeper secrets, and he is one of the gifted ones! The Prophesized An'quoth!" the old man declared, and whatever that meant to the massive troll, Severus did not know, but the look of interest spread across both faces.
In a flash, shadow magic wrapped around Severus' form, binding him in its horrid grasp and dragging him toward the portal created by the troll. "We shall take him to the Bastion," (Yes, learn of all his secrets, and teach him of our ways, we will) the mad beast said, using its great power in the void to drag Severus behind him, leaving the old man to his dirty secrets in the catacombs.
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Voldemort urged a part of his Blightbringers on to the icy passageway, knowing that Nobu'tan and his living servants would not be able to tolerate the extreme cold for long. If they could hasten the work of destroying these foes, the sooner they could depart and finish this demanding campaign against the Scourge.
Truth be told, Voldemort was looking forward to crossing blades with some of this "Lich King's" high-ranking generals, and seeing how his powers over death matched against those considered the greatest threats on their world.
As they moved through the icy passage, several elementals and frozen giants tried to bar their way, but the Death Knights in his ranks were battle tested and fearless, driving back any resistance and slaughtering the foes that dared to stand and fight.
"Commencing watcher Hodir status analysis," the little mechanic voice sounded around them as they started to curve around to the left in the passages, "Hodir's sigil appears to be located in a cache of artifacts."
"So we don't have to worry about destroying the guardian completely or not, good…" Voldemort said, annoyed at the potential complications that could have been placed on their upcoming battle.
"Watcher Hodir's temperament and behavior highly unstable. Destruction of cache highly probable during prolonged combat." The system continued.
"So we slay him quickly, I was hoping for that…" the Dark Lord retorted.
"Allies present in the field of battle are likely to provide synergies and minimize combat duration…" the thing advised, "Preservation of cache is essential to recovering Hodir's sigil."
"Fine fine…" Voldemort said, just hoping that the little voice would be silent as they rounded the last corner and approached the open chaber, filled with frozen forms in blocks of ice. As they had been told, many of these figures were members of the explorer's league, and likely would aid anyone who freed them, but that proved to be a problem in and of itself.
Being primarily Death Knights, the group with Voldemort had little access to fire magic of any kind, so unless an opportunity presented itself, he had little choice but to press on with the forces he had brought.
The hulking giant, the Keeper Hodir apparently, towered over the far side of the room, glaring at the entrance more than at them as the Blightbringer Clan spread out and prepared to encircle the massive creature and take him down.
As soon as they started making aggressive motions; however, the frozen being snapped to life, roaring at them as it stomped forward, "You will suffer for this trespass!"
Unfortunately, it seemed that the creature's strategy had been to make his opponents more stiff and unresponsive through the cold than he was himself. Unfortunately, the dead did not need to be concerned about such constrictions. They shook off the frost and ice and moved quickly, dodging around the wading swings of the giant to inflict many wounds on the frozen body.
"Winds of the north consume you!" the giant bellowed, allowing a blast of torrential wind rip through the cavern, and causing parts of the ceiling to collapse, crushing a few of the frozen statues. Voldemrot felt nothing about the loss of life, but leeching off the now freed life energy, he was able to empower his warriors, and charge the blade of Apocalypse.
The unholy artifact seemed to wish nothing more than to devour as much life energy as it could, growing stronger with every life that was absorbed. Idly, as he slashed the hulking keeper, Voldemort wondered if theses constructs too had life energy that might satiate the blade, and grant some boon to himself, as its wielder.
Gor'lak, the ogre Death Knight who had made himself more or less the lieutenant of the unholy warriors, scored a crippling strike with his two-handed mace, sending the giant to its knees and opening the vulnerable chest for Voldemort.
Apocalypse burned in his hand, and with a roar he drove the blade forward, striking deeply into the unarmored chest. Rather than blood, flakes of ice and stone spewed in all directions, and some echoing scream rent the air as it tore out and away from the Keeper.
Falling backward, the ice giant clutched a hand to its chest, eyes flashing with the icy power, now freed from some dark malevolence.
"I… I am released from his grasp… at last…" he giant said, relief in its gravelly voice.
Holding up a hand, Voldemort signaled for his clan to stand down. Their fight was done and the Keeper released. As much as he wanted to feast on the power that fueled this creature, he would settle for whatever dark entity dwelled below.
"Mortals, I am indebted to you for freeing me from the terrible corruption that besets this place," the giant said, slowly recovering from his stupor and injuries in the battle, "Though I have not yet recovered fully, I can help you battle Yogg-Saron."
How that would be, if he had already succumbed to the Old God's power, Voldemort did not know, but he would trust that any help was welcome, "Our Lord will meet you in the central chamber, with the others, when we all convene again."
The giant nodded, and turned to shattered the icy wall that covered the way back to the central chamber, near to which Voldemort noticed the cache that they were sup[posed to seek the sigil inside. Gesturing for Gor'lak to find the item, he followed in the wake of the giant.
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Jaina had not expected such a rousing audience for these challenges that the Argent Crusade had demanded. While the concept was understandable, they needed to make sure that they strongest of warriors were among the group that would penetrate Icecrown Citadel, but making them openly watchable she felt might give some the wrong ideas.
Such seemed to be the case, she felt, with the young members of the Dark Horde, who were cheering each victory of their people, and altogether enjoying the spectacle.
Her misgivings were apparently clear on her face, as Varian nudged her gently to snap her attention away, "It is not evil for them to respect the warriors of their faction."
"But if they begin to see warfare as a means to glory…" Jaina said, worried for the youth and the wayward idea that those thoughts would bring.
"Then they will learn a hard lesson," Varian said darkly. Jaina knew that the King of Stormwind spoke from experience.
"While there is a certain thrill that battle comes with, all war is ultimately a dark and sordid affair," he continued, watching as the champions of the three factions were separated, and healed of their wounds.
Tirion rose, signaling the attention of all those within the ring, as the gates opened and a host of Argent Crusaders entered, "Well fougth! Now that your individual strength had been tested, we shall now see how you fight within groups comprised of all three factions. Argent Confessor Paletress and Eadric the Pure will be your combined opponents. Work together and you will emerge victorious."
Now it was Varian's time to scowl, and receive a nudge from Jaina, "If we are to fight the Scourge as one, they need to see that the best of all of them can and will work together."
"Are you up to the challenge?" Eadric said, stepping forward and brandishing his shield, "I will not hold back."
"May the Light give me the strength to provide a worthy challenge," the Confessor added.
"You may begin!" Tirion stated, sitting once more as the groups of combatants were rearranged by the heralds into a handful of small groups of mixed individuals.
For Jaina, the groups that seemed the most important to watch were ones with historically warring races, such as the forest troll champion of the Dark Horde working with both a Blood Elf and Night Elf. Despite the resentment that they ought to be feeling toward each other, they leapt into combat with the Argent Crusaders, supporting a front line of Tauren, Bronzebeard Dwarf, and Fel orc brute warriors.
The ogre mage of the Dark Horde had no problems immediately using his magic to benefit even those they had moments ago been fighting just as viciously, spurring on a bloodlust among all warriors of the united force.
"It seems that our people, as well as the Hordes still remember the battles we have fought side by side, despite the grievances that may linger," Varian said, leaning forward to watch.
"If we can foster that unity, more infighting down the line could be avoided." Jaina added, hopefully.
"I wish that was so, but there is more than just individual warriors working together that needs to be considered…" Varian said, glancing at the empty seat that Nobu'tan should have been filling.
"Yes," Jaina admitted, "There will be much answering to be done, once the Lich King is defeated, but leveraging this unity could be a means to try and maintain a peaceful resolution…"
Vairan turned, smiling at her with a pained look, "Jaina, your eternal optimism is a ray of sunlight that I wish more people across all factions fostered."
"I can think of one that could bridge the gap," Jaina added, smirking as she thought of Lady Malfoy. The woman was formidable, and clearly through her husband and son had the ear of Nobu'tan. She alone could be the edge that they needed to smooth over the rough diplomatic relationship that would exist once the Dark Irons and others returned to demanding justice for the crimes of the Dark Horde so many years ago.
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Teg'Ramm roared along with the youth of the Dark Horde as their champions, working with the Kalimdor Horde and Alliance, battled the chosen champions of the Argent Crusade. The energy was infectious, and their eager enthusiasm seemed the envy of the other observers around the ring of wood and stone.
Their warriors were taking the strong leadership position in the various subgroups that the Paladins had created, again showing the superiority of the Dark Horde in fashioning the best of combatants.
Fight as they might, the Argent Crusaders stood little chance when the Dark Horde took charge, arranging the various groups into powerful sub units of a greater whole, rather than trying to fight as many small elements against the priest and paladin champions.
Whatever method they had been expecting to fight so many combatants at once, them all uniting was probably not it. Naturally, the Light wielders fell quickly, yielding the fight one after the other when the full might of the three factions of champions fell upon them.
Rising with the rest to celebrate their victory, Teg'Ramm was ready for the time of respite that was to be given them all before the large tournament, which would sort through those that passed these challenges and select the actual assault team for the upper reaches of the Scourge fortress.
"Well done, champions!" Fordring called down from the Highlord's seat, "You have all proven yourselves today…"
However, whatever the human had planned to say was lost, when a booming bout of laughter rained down from above, "Foolish Paladin, you think that this meaningless rabble will stop the forces of the Lich King?"
"What is the meaning of this?" the Highlord stated, even as all eyes turned upward to find the source of the speech.
"There, up near the rafters!" one of the heralds shouted from the lower levels.
An armored warrior was there, astride a skeletal gryphon, still laughing despite being discovered. "Did you honestly think that an agent of the Lich King would be bested on the field of your pathetic little tournament?"
The undead beast swooped down, landing in the ring and circling around to face off against the combined warriors of each faction, "I've come to finish my task! This farce ends here!"
"Don't just stand there; kill him!" the Stormwind King shouted down at the assembled warriors.
"Tear him apart!" the brown-skinned orc on the opposite side bellowed!
Amid the shouts and jeers of the assembled youth of the Dark Horde at the Scourge warrior, Teg'Ramm roared, applying the power of the Fel to embolden those fighters on the ground.
The force surged forward, carving through the walking corpse, and quickly overwhelming the lone warrior, hacking him apart with great ease.
Unfortunately, even as he fell to the ground, the skeletal form rose again, laughing as he continued to lash out at anyone nearest, "My rotting flesh was just getting in the way!" he said snidely, uncaring of the sheer amount of damage he was taking from the countless strikes that he sustained.
The bones were smashed, but many more of the assembled warriors were injured and needed the attention of their healers. And yet, again, a ghostly form of the Knight rose again.
"I have no need for bones to best you!" he shouted, still managing to lift his weapons and fight again.
"Teg'Ramm say little reason for them to honor the concept of noble combat with the Scourge, especially with the event over and done with, and rose to his feet. "Lok'Tar Ogar! Be bathed in the power of the Fel, warriors!" he boomed, unleashing a torrent of chaotic magic and releasing the bloodlust that was pent-up in the heart of every warrior on the field.
The Dark Horde champions roared as their might was heightened, and soon the Alliance and Kalimdor Horde leaders were on their feet, cheering on their warriors with magic and inspiring words, even as they encircled the spectral Scourge warrior and his enchanted weapons.
The Black Knight stood no chance against them all, and soon his spectral form was demolished; sent back in shame to his master. "No! I must not fail… again…" the spirit whimpered as it vanished, leaving their forces victorious.
The crowd exploded into sound, cheering and slamming of feet and hands on whatever surface was nearest. "My congratulations, champions!" Tirion said, yelling to be heard over the celebration, "Through trials both planned and unexpected, you have triumphed!"
The cheering continued, rolling like waves on the seashore, until slowly it settled into the excited chatter of the crowd. "Go now and rest; you've earned it."
"You fought well," the King of Stormwind said, clear over the speaking of those around him.
"Well done, Horde!" Thrall, the shaman Warchief, said to his people.
Teg'Ramm, knowing that he had to speak on behalf of Nobu'tan, knew that they were not to be outdone. Rather than address the Dark Horde only, he only bellowed out two words, taken up by all who were in earshot. "FOR AZEROTH!"
There was no recourse for even the other factions. All took up the cry, and their voices boomed out of the coliseum, echoing out over the mountains. Personally, Teg'Ramm hoped that his master heard their cry, or at least the undead ears of their enemies might ring with the power of their voices.
Taking their leave, Teg'Ramm ushered out the youth of the Dark Horde, who were more than thrilled to speak with their champions up close, and even those of the other factions. The future was in their hands, but the Ogre mage knew that they had to preserve a future for them to inherit.
He hoped that Nobu'tan returned to them, in order to take his rightful place at the head of their army, as there was only one more set of challenges before the chosen champions would attend the final battle meeting for the siege of Icecrown Citadel.
Before that assault could occur, they would need to fight their way across the undead-infested lowlands, and the Grand Warlock would be the strategist they needed for that battle.
