Feels like its been a while since I last posted, and technically it is, a month feels so long, but life is so brutal on my writing schedule... Things have been getting better, but only just. Still, enjoy the next chapter!

Chapter 174

The Horror Gate

Mahan couldn't be happier at the outcome of the plan. Here he was, with the entirety of the Scarlet Onslaught at his call, and only Nobu'tan alone standing in his way to obliterating his armies, satisfying the calls of death on this world.

Alone, the Grand Warlock stood no chance, despite what petty artifact he may have acquired to challenge him and the radiating majesty of Light's Wrath.

Nobu'tan raised the scepter, tearing open portals and summoning another horde of demons to fight alongside him, and Mahan pointed Light's Wrath at him, "Slay the demon worshipper!" he shouted, rallying their attack force to converge toward the warlock. Let Nobu'tan waste his strength slaughtering Mahan's minions, potentially opening a momentary weakness for the Master of the great secret to exploit.

"For the Light!" shouted the warriors as they charged headlong to their deaths. Mahan made a show to covering them with a shield of the Light, blocking another blast of powerful Fel power from the Grand Warlock. As long as he could keep the spells from overwhelming his forces, their crusaders would demolish any servant of the Legion that was thrown their way, so steeped in the vaunted Light as they were.

For a brief time, the battle seemed to be at a perfect deadlock, the demons hampered on all sides by their own allies, the undead, and Mahan's followers. Then explosions rocked the rear of the Scarlet Crusade's lines, and the Master of the Great Secret whirled, widening his eyes as he spotted Nobu'tan striding purposefully through the rear clerics and magi of their forces.

"You thought you could best me with this ragtag band…" Nobu'tan said, his voice clear all the way to Mahan's ears, despite the noise and distance separating them.

A crusader attempted to turn on Nobu'tan, but the Grand Warlock made a swiping motion with his hand, and the human fall away, his head severed from the demonic claws of the Fel-infused wizard.

"No more…" Nobu'tan said, even as flames leapt up at his command, incinerating those who tried to converge on him, "I will have this feud between us ended, here and now!"

Rather than reply, Mahan attacked straightaway, a cacophony of Light and Void magic leaping from Light's Wrath at the Grand Warlock, repelled by the blazing power of the Fel, which crackled and sparked like lightning.

"You cannot best me! Not this time!" Mahan shouted, his anger boiling at the part demon.

"You have no idea what you are even saying anymore," Nobu'tan replied, and while the cold anger was present, Mahan started to fear the small twinge of sorrow that the Lord of the Dark Horde held in his voice.

However, he had something up his sleeve, a secret of his own that he had withheld from even the Nathrezim. This ace in the hole was such that he was confident that he would emerge victorious, or at the very worst alive…

The comfortable feel of the wood of his ash wand, recovered during the secret flight from Blackrock Mountain, slid gracefully into his hand, and Mahan snapped a quick stream of wizarding spells across the battle at his former friend.

"Avada Kedavera!" the master of the dark secret bellowed, watching the green jet of pure death sail over the heads of the scarlet warriors, aimed straight for the heart of the Grand Warlock.

The flash a fear in the eyes of Nobu'tan heralded Mahan's victory, and he smirked as death itself would claim the greatest soul yet, when he was denied by a flash of golden light erupting around figure that imposed himself between the warlock and his impending death.

The light faded, and Mahan could only gap in shock at the face he remembered vaguely from their world. Sirius Black, his eyes radiating the golden power of the Light, glared at him from across the sea of crusaders, "Get away from my godson!" he commanded, hefting his sword and allowing the accursed radiance of the Naaru blessed magic leap from him in waves.

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Remus had learned much in his time with the Grimfang Pack.

Many of them had already been werewolves before the arrival of the Dark Horde's forces, led by the vicious Fenrir Greyback, and had had plenty of reasons to want revenge on those in the surrounding regions. Wizards from Dalaran, who had experimented with forces they did not understand, tapping into the power of the Moon Goddess Elune, and corrupting the denizens of the village south of Shadowfang Keep.

Nobu'tan may have thought he was the cause of their change, but the reality was that the arrival of powerful and willful lycanthropes like Greyback and actually prevented the region from devolving into chaos. True, the man sought to turn as many as he could find into more of his kind, but there were ways to curb that among the rest of the pack. Currently, with Greyback and most of the trusted members away in the north keeping safe the outposts and bases of the Dark Horde as the fought the dead, it meant that the rational members were all here to listen as Remus became a pseudo uncle for their troubles.

The scent of Greyback on him, after a lifetime of living under the curse that the man had placed upon Remus, was finally starting to be a blessing in disguise, as the pack recognized him inherently as one of their own, and did not challenge him despite what oddities he portrayed with his blessings from Nature itself.

In stepping into that role, Remus had nurtured the people that had come to dwell here, on Fenris Isle, and grew to understand their pain, their anger, and their need for justice. The Forsaken to the North, as well as their former kin of Gilneas in the south, pressed them from both sides, as well as the sickening of the forest itself threatened daily to destroy anything that they could hope to build.

Remus had the answer, but convincing the leadership left in charge by Greyback would be a challenge. If the pack as a whole embraced the powers of Nature, be it through Elune or whatever means they desired, they would be free of the madness that affected even the most wild and deranged of their pack, and they could operate as normal humans once again. In addition, the connection to the natural world would strengthen them to resist the plague of undeath that the Forsaken used to try to herd them away from the rest of Silverpine.

Unfortunately, despite initial acceptance into the pack, trust was still a hard won commodity, and Remus had his work cut out for him.

Raids into the rest of the forest, both for food, as well as to stop the Forsaken's march southward happened daily, and he threw himself into aiding all those who ventured out of the safety of the isle, which had been shrouded by magic to prevent their enemies from finding where they were based.

Remus did all he could, enlisting the help of the natural world wherever he dared, in order to showcase the powers afforded to him by the gifts he had been given from Guardian Merlin. There were many who took notice, but it was a solid week of time before the bravest of the pack approached him with questions, and desires to learn more of what he had to offer them.

The leaders, a Fel Worgen from their mutual homeworld named Alwin, as well as a woman from Azeroth named Marigold, were equally opposed to Remus' abilities as they were in subtle combat over who led the pack in Fenrir's absence. Apparently, Marigold saw herself as the closest thing to a mate that the Alpha had claimed, while Alwin was Fenrir's most trusted, at least of those left behind.

Knowing the mad werewolf as he had, Remus knew that he would have taken his most loyal with him wherever he went, and that this male had not ranked highly on that list to be left behind. Still, he deferred to their judgment, not wanting to rock the boat as of yet, although it was slowly becoming clear that their infighting was running the risk of getting the rest of the pack torn apart or discovered.

Regardless, they said nothing if individual members approached Remus to learn of his natural magic, and seemed content to wait and see if these other fledgling druids would prove to be a benefit or hindrance to their causes. Therefore, Remus taught all that he could, and shared in rituals to purify those willing of the afflictions of their curse, causing wolf and human mind to become united in purpose.

It was a slow process, but their numbers grew, and many sought this freedom of their wild and savage nature, even if they had no aptitude or desire to learn druidism. Those who had embraced the Fel power of the demons wanted nothing to do with it, and Remus understood, as the madness had been encouraged and tempered by the Legion's power running through them.

Even with his hatred of the Burning Legion and their power, he wouldn't turn those away, or shun them, as they had been people who made choices, or had choices thrust upon them. If anything that he had to have strong words with Nobu'tan about, it was this. His trickery had led the many consuming the blood of demons, and the spreading of that vile power throughout their old world, and who knew how many subsequently.

Nevertheless, Remus had great patience. He would wait till the time was right, and he had the opportunity to speak with his friend's son in a civil and private setting, and lay bare all his grievance with the boy who had embraced the power of the enemies of all life.

"Are you coming on the next raid, Remus?" asked one of the wolves, entering the chamber that the druid had claimed for his own in the crumbling keep.

"I will," Remus agreed, standing and turning to look at the wolf, one of the many that had embraced the gift of magic that freed the wolf's wrath from his mind, "Who is leading it?"

"Both…" the younger wolf said, hesitantly.

Remus frowned. If both Alwin and Marigold were going to be on the same raid, it was going to be significantly more dangerous, as each would try to push the group in a direction they desired, and the conflicting instructions would make the entire operation more dangerous.

"You should lead us, Remus," the wolf suddenly said, surprising the druid, "even if Fenrir returns, there are many who want your way to be the path forward, not the warlike nature of the others…"

Remus smiled gently, "It is not my place to take power from those who have it," he said, but in his heart he suspected that things would inevitably come to a head soon, and eventually when Greyback returned there would be a confrontation between them over who and how the pack would be led.

Striding quickly through the marginally repaired corridors of the island fortress, Remus hastened to catch up with the rest of the assembling raid party at the front of the keep, only halting when the baleful glare of the Fel-infused werewolves turned to meet him.

"Ah, the druid," Alwin sneered, barely containing his disdain of Remus' presence among them. Marigold arrived as well, sniffing deeply as she encountered Remus' scent. "Demonic slaves as well as the purifier, then," she said, trying to sideline the others and establish herself as the one leading the raid.

Remus rolled his eyes at the posturing, and found a nice spot on the dry and slowly revitalizing grass to wait for a conclusion to appear between the two regarding their target and objective.

Despite the chaos going on between the two official leaders in the werewolf community, Remus knew that many of the other wolves, even those who had embraced the Fel, took notice of his milder approach. That was the hope he held onto in convincing them that a more peaceful approach to their nature was the route forward for them as a people.

Eventually, the pair arrived at a rather lofty goal, both Marigold and Alwin continually trying to one up the other in the stakes of their desired strategy, all of which Remus had expected before even showing up outside the fortress.

"This night, we will take the Sepulcher!" Alwin shouted at last, to the roar of approval from the Fel contingent that followed his every word. Remus could tell that even Marigold and those others, who did not embrace the rage of their inner wolf, mixed with the ferocity of demons blood, were wary of this, but did not dare disagree with the more powerful faction once they had been united in their purpose.

Remus knew that this was a poor plan. The Sepulcher was the main base of the Forsaken in Silverpine, if the pack attacked it there would be a heavy resistance, and the retribution from the Undercity to the north would be greater than anything they had seen thus far. Those on the isle would be safe, the Fidelius Charm would hold against any that did not possess the magic of their world, at least Remus presumed this, but any further attempts to venture into the wider forest would become fraught with greater danger.

Still, Remus was not here to countermand the leaders set forth by the Alpha, Greyback, but only to support those caught up in the madness of these lesser leaders and their infighting.

Following the blustering crowd at a sedate pace, Remus took a few moments to check on the progress of his own side project. There had been little in the way of plant life left in the forest, especially on the isle, previously populated by gnolls and affected by the rot of their corruption magic. Food had been scarce, and while the warriors and stronger wolves regularly ventured into the forest to hunt, a primarily meat diet would not suit those who remained.

In order to lend what aid his magic could provide, Remus had taken to healing the land of the isle, encouraging the return of living plants and forming gardens to start producing on its own once more, to supplement the food stocks that the pack would acquire through raids and hunting.

Things were proceeding nicely, and those who respected what Remus was trying to attempt were caring for the plants, which allowed Remus to divert his attention to other way to help relieve the stress that the pack was feeling in the absence of their Alpha and warriors.

Together, the fifty or so werewolves shuttled across the lake, exiting the protective barrier of the Dark Horde's charms over the isle, and started south through the dense parts of the forest.

Once there had been a large number of werewolves, primarily of Azerothian descent, that populated this side of the forest, but now between the Grim Fang Packs recruitment efforts and the sterilization from the Forsaken, the cliffs and forests were devoid of anything remotely canine in appearance.

The road through the forest had to be avoided at all costs. Since a previous large raid on the Forsaken's supply wagons, the undead had started using massive hulks to pull and defend the carts with their goods coming down from the north.

Eventually, however, they would have to cross it to reach their target, and Remus knew that it would be one of the most difficult parts of their attack, maintaining their stealth for the opportune moment to strike.

Reports from their scouts came quickly, as the entire team approached the narrowest part of the road, stating that the way was clear for now, and that if they were to pass unobserved they needed to move quickly.

"Cross the road in teams of ten," Alwin ordered, "then continue south to Olsen's Farthing. There we will regroup and push up through the rise to strike the undead where they'd least suspect it."

Leading the way, Alwin took his most loyal of the Fel wolves, and leapt across the road to the underbrush on the other side, darting between the trees and vanishing from view.

As much as Remus wanted to lag behind, and take a more secluded crossing, he had a feeling that his presence would be needed very soon, and crossed with the next group, which was a mixed party of Fel and unchanged lycanthropes, which allowed Marigold to organize what she desired for the remainder of her people.

The druid sensed that the female wolf would probably alter the plan once more, now that Alwin and his loyalists were out of the way. While he wanted to make sure that as many of their people were safe, getting into the Sepulcher would be of top priority so that he could have visual range to support whomever of their attack group needed it.

To that end, he allowed his form to shift, melding into the shadows of the massive pines, his feline form blending into the shadows and his steps becoming silent as the wind. Slipping through the shadows, he bypassed the formation of the Fel werewolves, who were already preparing to attack along the southern side of the undead stronghold, without Marigold and her larger group.

Shaking his whiskered head in exasperation, Remus could sense the fracture lines already forming on this attack. Two leaders, two plans, which only meant twice the chance of failure.

Sneaking ahead of even the scouts, Remus positioned himself just outside the fortified graveyard that the Forsaken had claimed as their forward outpost in the forest. The guards had no chance of noticing him, disguised and hidden as he was in the dead foliage, even as Marigold and her raiders start up the main causeway, trying to head off Alwin and his Fel wolves via the direct path.

A blatant act of stupidity if there ever was one, Remus thought. Not only was the direct approach leaping straight into the strongest defenders from the undead, which Alwin had be wise to attempt to avoid, but it also blew the cover that the Fel werewolves, who would be coming directly into an already pitched battle rather than falling upon the guards from an unexpected angle.

Remus held no love for the undead, regardless of their allegiance, as he had witnessed firsthand the use of undead by the Legion across countless worlds, and while he did not feel that supporting either of the werewolf leaders, he would do what he could to protect them even from themselves.

Springing from his hiding place as the battle began, Remus shed the form of the great feline and resuming his natural state, allowing the mending power of the earth to flow freely. Werewolves and Worgen on both sides, already injured from the blade and superior skill of the undead warriors, were surrounded with the healing magic, and were able to leap back to the fight with renewed vigor.

Within moments, the undead realized the threat that Remus presented single-handedly, and as they started to turn toward him, Alwin and his Fel Wolves stormed in, cutting their path toward the druid completely and creating a solid wall of flesh and claws between them.

For a time it seemed the flow of battle was with them, but Remus was still wary. Through their many raids, it was clear that the Forsaken Undead were becoming more accustomed to fighting their people, and their skill in countering and driving their attacks away had been becoming swifter and swifter.

Therefore, he had his senses around him, and Remus refused to allow the primal lust for battle take control. He was rewarded for this vigilance, he was the first to spot the approach of the undead's elite warriors.

"Dark Rangers!" he shouted in warning, and Alwin turned with his warriors to face the undead elves and their supreme combat skills, while Marigold and the rest continued to push toward the small graveyard that sat above the underground outpost.

Remus moved quickly to position himself in the middle of the two combatant groups, continuing to bolster and heal those who were overwhelmed.

Unfortunately, there was a single glaring problem with trying to hold out here in the midst of their enemies. Remus was the only one capable of healing their forces, and more undead were arrived every moment. Their raid was broken, it was time to either dig in, and fight to the death, or else retreat and fade into the shadow of the forest.

Remus knew which option was the right one to take, but he doubted that either of their current leaders would think it correct to swallow their pride and live to fight another day.

For the time being, they were held at a standstill, trapped between the Sepulcher itself and the arriving elite warriors of the Forsaken, but keeping the line with their current deployment. But the wafting stench of the next wave of reinforcements told Remus that their time was up.

Abominations, the hulking flesh golems of the undead forces, lumbered up the slope and charged into the fray, scattering the Fel werewolves, and starting to hack their way through the lines of raiders.

As their line started to buckle, Remus grabbed the should of the withdrawing Alwin, "We need to fall back, we'll be overrun otherwise and the others will suffer without us bringing supplies regularly to them."

The wild eyes of the Fel infused man flashed momentarily, but he nodded in agreement. Alwin at least understood their dire situation. What concerned Remus was whether Marigold would try to seize glory by vainly trying to win the battle here, with the majority of their force dying with her, or see sense to agree with the other assessment and join their retreat.

"Fall back to the trees!" Alwin shouted, even as he and Remus started to withdraw to the same side entrance beyond the hitching post for the monstrous bats that the undead flew.

"No, stand and fight!" cried Marigold, and Remus sighed as he saw the tawny beast try to shoulder her way through the undead toward them. "Cowards!"

"The fool," Alwin said, but Remus could hear in the wolf's snarl that he had no intention of leaving her or their people, even if it would be the safer action.

"Leave their rearguard to me," Remus declared, rising to his full height and brandishing the oaken staff he had crafted and carved thoroughly with the natural runes that Merlin had taught him so long ago. "Come, might of the forest, hear my cry, weeping trees in your silent pain. Rise up and fight these defilers of your grove! Rise up and fight for nature's wrath!"

The groans of the undead abominations was deafened with an almighty crash, even as the angered and nearly dead pines of the forest came to life, awakening by the magic Remus sent into them. Branches swayed threateningly as they lurched forward; ripping up leg-like roots to ambush their foes on all sides, and lesser trees awoke to being full treants, servants of the natural world and shepherds for the countless groves of the cosmos.

Even as the tide of undead was halted with the sudden attack on all sides, Remus turned and ran, leading the way of the escaping werewolves. Unfortunately, the Dark Rangers had circled around to try and cut off their escape, and were already preparing a full barrage of their cursed arrows for the line of werewolves as they charged headlong toward them.

"For the Pack!" roared a pair of voices, and Remus saw a figure impose himself between the druid and the hailstorm of arrows that flew at him.

Alwin fell backward into his arms, even as Marigold rallied their forces to charge the archers and break through to escape. "Druid, leave me," Alwin said, the Fel seeming to consume his eyes as he lay dying. Remus knew that his magic wouldn't be able to knit the wounds and remove the curses on the Fel werewolf in time to save him, and once dead, the black magic would keep him from being able to be returned to life.

"I will not allow you to remain here, as their trophy," Remus said, throwing Alwin over his shoulder as he transformed into the form of the great bear spirit. The fury of Ursoc roared within Remus, and he charged, carrying the fallen form of his would-be rival through the hailstorm that followed, smashing singularly through the lines of the Dark Rangers and escaping with Alwin's body back into the trees.

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Sirius glared daggers across the sea of confused paladins coated in red.

The dark wizard that had just tried, and failed, to assassinate Nobu'tan met his gaze, and seemed to quail at the fury of the Light that Sirius bore.

Hefting his sword high, Sirius released a pulse of that pure energy, throwing the fighting demons and crusaders aside, and clearing his path toward the threat to his godson.

The other man, clearly unaccustomed to heavy melee combat, fell back as Sirius rushed him, barely managing to get the staff he carried into position to block the initial strike of the Lightforged human.

Feeling the surging power well up as he attacked, Sirius allowed the Light to guide his strikes, slamming with both shield and weapon in a cascade of blows on the dark wizard. The man, caught so heavily off guard and unable to bring both hands to bear with wand and staff in hand, was disarmed of the staff within moments, and was forced to dodge as Sirius hounded him back.

Twice spells launched from the wand, and twice the power of the light flared around the Paladin, giving him the strength to bat the jets of light away with his draenei-forged blade. Snarling in anger, the dark wizard shot another glance at the warlock, who was governing his demonic horde into slaying the rest of the resisting crusaders, and finally decide to retreat like the coward he was.

Looking down at the abandoned staff, Sirius could feel the Lights power wafting off the item, intermixed with a sickening touch of the void. It was an abomination, and he had half a mind to shattering it here and now, but resisted. Instead, he took up the heinous staff, held it aloft, calling attention to the fearful, and quite abandoned crusaders around him, who were falling back in terror from the horde of demons and the loss of their own leadership.

"Hear me, wayward servants of the Light!" he cried, commanding in voice to cause even the most boisterous of the crusaders to halt in their flight.

Across the way, Nobu'tan held up a hand, commanding his demons silently to halt, and allow the paladin his chance to awaken these misguided fools to a sense of reason.

"Your commander has deceived you!" Sirius shouted, striking swiftly as the iron was hot, "using your valor and stalwart faith to further his own murderous ends. Horde, Dark Horde, and Alliance are not, nor ever have been, your enemies. We all fight to save this world from the curse of undeath, fostered by the terror and evil of the Lich King! Rally with us, rather than be swept aside as we push for the dreadful citadel, and join the defenders of Azeroth!"

For a moment, it seemed that the words were drowned in the fear and silence that the crusaders had fallen into, until another, feminine, voice rang out in response. "The man rings truth in both the Light and in word! We have been deceived! Onward Scarlet Onslaught! For the Light and for Azeroth! Fight the Scourge, not the living!"

The crusaders seemed to have their fury renewed, but directed at last to the common enemy of them all, and turned upon the undead alongside the pressing storm of the other factions.

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Nobu'tan felt the icy chill of Northrend starting to lose its hold on the hearts of the assembled force of Azeroth's defenders. With Nott's betrayal dealt with, and more surprisingly, his would-be godfather rallying the remainder of the Scarlet Crusade to stand with the rest of their armies, they at last could turn their attention to the final barrier before them.

Corp'rethar: the Horror Gate, seemed to be as invulnerable as its name implied. The other defenses of Icecrown were mere shadows and illusions compared to what lay ahead of them. But he would not allow himself to give in to doubt, not after so much blood had already been spilt to reach this place. They would enter the lair of the Lich King, and shatter his crown upon the Frozen throne itself to announce their victory over the undead once and for all time.

Summoning a new dreadsteed and mounting swiftly, Nobu'tan marshaled his demons, which he had retained after calling them off the Scarlet warriors, and drove his legionaries into the heart of the undead horde, kicking the demonic horse into a full gallop to return to the speartip of his lines.

Releasing the reins, and allowing the demon horse to guide its own path where he had demanded, Nobu'tan straightened himself in the saddle, allowing all the magic he possessed: Arcane, Fel, and inborn wizarding magic, flow and collide together inside him. In an instant, he was enveloped by the shadowy haze of the raw magic, but his mind was focused on a singular point. The far gate stood to oppose their entrance, barred and defended by hulks that would cleave through their ranks without so much as a slow to their stride.

He would make them think again before dismissing the power he had to command. Weaving the strongest charms and bindings he could with all three aspects of power, he slipped into a meditative state, allowing magic to flow freely into the cage he was conjuring, more terrible and chaotic than even his previous creations. "Confringo MaximaAvada KedaveraDepulso Duro…" he chanted, adding spells of a wide variety that Lucius had taught him, including deviously dark curses, into the various web-like cells that he created of the arcane, cushioning and protecting each spell as a primed explosive of raw power."

Sweat formed upon his brow at the strain to maintain so much magic, but even as he neared the front lines and the screaming maws of the undead horde came into view, Nobu'tan bellowed a demonic roar. Launching the magic with all his strength forward, he watched the torrential bolt of power burn a line through the fodder undead and even demolishing the leg of a towering giant as it flew toward the walls.

The projectile struck with a resounding explosion of magic on metal, rupturing instantly and sending the inert spells within flying in all directions. Explosions rocketed upward, bombardas and confringos mixing with Fel and chaotic power to shatter the enchanted stonework of the gate, while all manner of hexes and jinxes peppered the surrounding enemies, causing as much confusion and damage to the rear lines as possible.

And then they were upon the lines of the Scourge. Nobu'tan slashed with Fel talons and the Scepter of Sargaras as he tore through at the head of his Ogre vanguard.

Gargoyles swooped low, trying to tear him from the back of his dreadsteed, but the Feldrakes of the Dark Horde roared in answer, their flames licking the stone skins of their winged adversaries as they battled for control of the sky.

However, they were only just entering the thick of it, as the Frost Wyrms started to dip for a strafing run of their forces, inhaling the frozen winds of Northrend to pelt their armies with ice and cold.

The nearest opened its maw wide, almost seeming to want to engulf the soldiers ahead of Nobu'tan, when a rocket of explosions forced it to veer off course. Small figures zipped past, and only the sight of wands in their hands did Nobu'tan understand who had come to their aid at this timely moment.

The wizards of Stormwind had come, riding brooms of old earth and layering the magic of a world long destroyed across the battlefield. Watching them for the briefest moment, Nobu'tan frowned at the colors that they wore, and some manner of wildflower design on their robes and battle-gear.

"A Pansy, Lord Nobu'tan," Macnair said at his side, identifying the flower, and the connection that it had for these reinforcements from Stormwind, "In memory, of a woman both beautiful and of hatred most terrible…"

"Let all those lost in the horrid war be avenged this day," Nobu'tan said solemnly, raising his staff to herald the push forward, as they started in the wake of the flier to charge into the very maw of death itself.

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Narcissa watched as the portal from Stormwind Keep into the very heart of the battle at Icecrown shimmered. The last of those who could wait no longer, and wanted to bring battle against eh scourge in vengeance for the loss of wizarding kind had all but demanded that they be admitted, and King Varian could deny them their valor no longer.

The group, which had named themselves the Viola Vindicta, had sworn to see the end fo the Scourge threat with their own eyes, and were led by Amaryllis Parkinson, Pansy's mother. The loss of her eldest daughter had changed the woman drastically, hardening someone that had once been full of life and mirth, loving of all children and kind to all who knew her.

Now, all the mirth had gone from her eyes, and there was left only a darkness that those of the Pureblood families knew all too well. She had not turned to Dark Magic, but there was the chance that, given the opportunity, she would, and that would not bode well for any who stood in her path.

Even after they had plunged through, aiding in turning the tide against a wave of undead dragons, Narcissa couldn't tear her eyes from what she was seeing. They had fought against this for almost a year straight, in the frozen land whos cold was even creeping through the magic of the portal to the center of Stormwind.

She was glad that Anduin was watching Aurora well away from here, so that she, Varian, and others of the High-ranking Alliance forces could watch the battle's progress undisturbed, and more so, where these images would not scar the eyes of the innocent.

"They're breaking through the ranks of the undead, slowly and with great struggle, but their combined might is pushing them back," one of the eagle-eyed elf scouts said, stepping back through the portal and shivering at the change of temperature.

"It seems too simple…" Varian said, scratching his chin as he watched the spear of the Dark Horde crash upon rank after rank of undead, "With so long to prepare, you'd think the Lich King would have far better defenses…"

"You suspect a trap, your Majesty?" a field marshal asked, turning from the view to look questioningly at the King of Stormwind.

"I suspect many things, but I know this is some manner of trap." Varian said, his eyes glued to the portal, "It's what I would do in this exact situation."

"Is there no one else we can send to their aid?" Narcissa asked, glancing between the various military leaders.

"All the Alliance forces available are already present on the battlefield, it's down to them now," Varian replied sadly.

A brilliant flash of power snapped their attention back to the battle before them. Someone of wizard decent, likely Nobu'tan himself, had caused a massive missile of power to rocket across the lines of the Scourge, impacting the final wall before the dreadful citadel, detonating it on the walls themselves, and punching a gaping hole into the enchanted stone and metal.

Stirred like wasps from a hive, the undead swarmed from the wound in their defenses, armored warriors and more mounted knights that permeated frost and darkness that sent unnatural chills down Narcissa's spine.

Knowing that both her son, who had been called forth to help assist the new aerial division, as well as her husband were in the mix of that madness placed her on the brink of worry, and she hoped that Nobu'tan was a strong and dedicated as he said in bringing each and every one of his family home safe.

"Look there," said another commander, gesturing with a gauntleted hand as the Skybreaker plunged back into view from behind the place where this portal existed. The gunship pelted forward, toward the position of the wall, matching its speed with the strange zeppelin contraption of the Horde. As they started to push the line over the wall itself, both ships unleashed a torrent of projectiles, securing the air space that the broom-riders and drakes of the Dark Horde had contended over with the flying horrors of the undead.

Steadily the flying stone creatures and the undead dragons were being forced back to grounded, even as the land battle became more intense. Shining beacons of the Light surged from three locations, and Narcissa knew that those members of the Light would not permit those nearest to them to fall in battle, or worse be raised by the undead to fight against their own.

Still, the horror of it kept her frozen in place, unable to bear the thought of watching more, but equally rooted to the spot in case something happened that she did not want to miss.

The booms and snaps of ropes sounded nearby, and a torrent of projectiles rocketed into the air from the siege weapons of the factions, sailing over the wall and crashing with titanic explosions on the far side, sending plumes of smoke and spell residue into the air.

"There, you can see the factions already digging in their heels," Varian said, pointing out several workers and magicians erecting temporary fortifications around the area of the portal, "This siege will be long fought, but they have the upper hand now that they have a base of operation to fall back and regroup from."

Narcissa wasn't so certain, personally, as the towering fortress before them all seemed more than dominating in her mind, but she trusted Varian's judgment, just as she trusted in Nobu'tan. He had led them all thus far in safety, and deserved every ounce of recognition and trust that that afforded from one worrisome mother and wife.