Many thanks to those who review, I am amazed at already having quad digits in reviews for this story already, and there is so very far yet to go with it. I am humbled by the reaction of passion, both love and irritation, as the story has progressed, and hope that the same vibrant feelings continue on. it truly motivates me, even those who are not as pleased with the story as I'd like them to be. thanks again, and please, enjoy the next chapter! ~F
P.S. special thanks to FractiousDay for pointing out the spelling errors, they have been corrected! ~F
Chapter Sixty Four
Infiltration
Remus J. Lupin, former werewolf, now a servant of the natural world, mourned as he felt the land of his planet dying under the corrupting boot of the Legion.
K'uri, the Naaru who had allied their forces together under the powers that opposed the Legion everywhere in the universe, had done more than a major service to Remus personally. He had been cured of the Fel taint that the Legion had attempted to force upon him, much like they had with all the other werewolf packs that they had captured from the magical world. Additionally, the Naaru had introduced him to the natural spirits of the planet, now awakened by the shattering terror that the demons presented to their realm. They gave him great strength, even so long after being powerless to act because of the long time they had been forgotten and ignored, weakening their strength drastically.
Of these ancient deities, K'uri strongly encouraged Remus to become known to Eostre, the spirit governing the natural world. Over time, as Remus drew himself nearer to the magic of the natural world, he found himself developing a sense of control that he had never known after the bite marked him forever.
Eventually, he discovered he had perfect control of his form, and could shift into all manner of beasts that could provide many abilities and strengths to him, but the cost was that he quickly lost the neutral state of his human form. His wolfin form became more normal and stable for him to wear, although he could reassume his human state at will. Regardless of form, his mind and self control remained perfect.
It was liberating, and glorious for Remus to at long last be free of the curse that Fenrir Greyback had placed upon him so early into his life, and he therefore pledged himself to fight against the enemies of nature. As the druids of old, he cast aside his old life of fear and hesitancy, becoming quickly more bold and assertive, even countering the ideas of Albus when it seemed less than sound to himself.
He advocated the liberation of every pack of werewolves that they found, as he longed to teach more of his people of this newfound way of liberating themselves from their curse. He again and again declared the power that the natural ways could prove to be if the resistance against the Legion, even declaring the he would take them to Avalon to train them if need be.
But it was so difficult to convince others that they should trust that all werewolves could be changed like he himself had and would fight for them. It was a never ending source of irritation and trial for Remus, and he often would go out on his own to seek after any others that have escaped the machinations of the demons, or sometimes with just Sirius to help him, the only one that would constantly vouch for his plan to free more allies for them.
Not to the discredit of Albus, K'uri, or even Merlin, but Remus had his own ideas of how best to aid them in their defense against the Legion, and he felt strongly about saving everyone that they could.
Now was one of those times.
Stalking through the charred and desolate landscape that was once known as the mighty nation of Great Britain, Remus felt his form shift easily, without pain or discomfort into that of a large feline creature. Smelling the air, Remus' new whiskers twitched angrily.
The smell of brimstone and demon bile was thick in the air, and he could tell they were close to another enslavement camp.
"We're near, aren't we?" Sirius said, shouldering his shield as he gazed out across the destroyed landscape.
So much had happened to their beloved world, so much pain and death that at times Remus was unwilling to even speak to another living being. Sirius always understood, or at least made the attempt to understand what Remus was going through.
Shifting back to his humanoid form, and shifting his shoulders, Remus grunted. "Not far from here, and we'll be in the midst of another slave camp." His voice had changed forever, becoming more gruff and authoritarian, but it was a welcome change from the meek and submissive one he used to have.
Drawing his sword, Sirius smirked at his longtime friend, "Let's get to it then, Mooney…" he said cheekily, and together the pair of warriors took to the shadows, creeping ever nearer to the source of the Fel magic in the air.
A column of green crystalline rock protruded from the middle of a small valley, dominating the ruins of a town that lay scattered around it like children's blocks appeared as they drew nearer, and Remus could see many small figures moving in long lines to and from the crystal.
"Good, they haven't started killing off their prisoners for fuel yet," he said, indicating this to Sirius, whose eyesight wasn't nearly as strong as the former werewolf's.
"How many foes?" Sirius asked, and Remus continued observing.
"Four Felguards, half a dozen bats, perhaps an inquisitor, as well as a decent number of lesser demons…" he counted off, and Sirius just scoffed.
"Shouldn't they have learned by now that those sorts of numbers aren't enough to stop us?" he said jokingly, squaring his shoulders, "Let's free some prisoners."
And with that, he charged down the hill toward the camp, yelling and screaming at the top of his lungs to attract all the attention of the camp. Remus just shook his head, knowing that while this was their usual strategy, it was still madness for Sirius to do this every time. He was one of the lead generals of the resistance, and he couldn't really afford to throw his life away if one of these missions went awry, but knowing this and convincing him were two very different things.
Shifting back into his feline form, Remus took off at a sprint, thundering around to the far side so he could slip in behind the enemy lines and begin freeing the prisoners. Sirius was strengthened and protected by the Light, he would last as long as needed for Remus to fulfill his part of the plan.
Slipping in while the guards were all focused on the Paladin and Mage, Remus darted toward the nearest building, where he smelled that prisoners were being held, chained with both magic and iron and frightened at the sounds of battle outside.
They shrank back as he entered, but Remus shifted back to his human form, knowing that it would be the most reassuring thing for them to see, "We're here to rescue you, be calm friends," he said soothingly, focusing the power of the natural world on the chains, allowing roots and other greenery to slowly work its way up from the dead and dying soils to attack the physical bonds, while he called upon the powers of the Sun, Moon and Stars to counter the Fel magic of the demons, freeing them both body and mind.
Once freed, he started handing out Portkeys to Hogwarts to them, activating the devices one by one. Only when the last was gone, spinning back to safety at the castle, he slipped into his stealthy form once more and move on to the next building. There were easily hundreds of prisoners here, and he would have to repeat this process many times, trusting that Sirius could keep the Legion occupied while he worked, in addition to whatever reinforcements were sent to stop him.
It took the better part of an hour, but at last Remus couldn't smell any more fresh signs of prisoners in the camp and could turn his attention to the battle. Sirius was laughing, even as he blocked another barrage of Fel magic, fired at him from a massive Eredar, who apparently led an attack of reinforcements that tried to arrive and halt their operation.
"Fool!" the Marauder mocked, "Try a little harder next time, you might scorch my shield! Take that!" he yelled, driving his sword into the skull of a felhunter that tried to leap at him.
A pair of doomguards swooped down from the sky, but Remus was already in their midst, leaping into the air and transforming into the form of a great bear, swiping at them with his massive paws. The surprise of such a sudden arrival and the strength which Remus put behind the attack knocked one of the winged demons from the sky, where it landed in ruin with Remus astride it in bear shape.
Roaring in aggressive challenge, he felt some of the demons turn their attention fully to him, even as Sirius charged to take on the Eredar Warlock. Rearing up, he fought with both paws, swiping devastating blows that sent smaller imps and flying, and caused massive cracks and dents in the armor of Felguards, even as their own demonic weapons stabbed helplessly into the layers of fur and fat that served as his armor.
Minor amounts of pain, but nothing unmanageable, and it served to only anger the animal ferocity within Remus all the more. Leaping upon the nearest Felguard, he tore at the demons throat with his jaws, spitting at the taste of Felblood and brimstone that filled his mouth as the vile creature died.
Spinning around quickly, Remus spotted Sirius heavily engaged with the Eredar, the power of the Light forming around him like a protective curtain as he battled, sword and shield upon staff, with the bright red creature.
Knowing that his friend and brother would need his aid against such a powerful servant of the Legion, Remus roared, charging through the ranks of lesser demons that separated them and fell upon the hoofed commander with vengeance.
The Eredar was knocked forward by the sudden collision, falling directly upon the sword point of Sirius' weapon. The demon's look of horror and surprise was only eclipsed when the creature started to burn alive, the Fel in its system eating the flesh and taking back to the hell which had spawned it.
The other demons scattered, their leader defeated, and Sirius retrieved the smoking weapon from where it fell to the ground, shaking the Fel ash from the blade. Remus resumed his natural form, sniffing the air and scowling at the fresh burst of acrid orders accompanying the death of the Eredar, "That's another camp destroyed," he said at last, barring his teeth in a wolf's smiled at Sirius, who laughed.
"It is indeed," he agreed, "although I think Albus won't be terribly pleased with the number you managed to rescue this time."
"He can dislike it all he wants," Remus shot back as they started back to their extraction point, "I'll continue to do it as long as there are beings to save from the Legion."
Sirius laughed again, the booming bark echoing through the now empty area. Throwing an arm around the former werewolf's shoulders, Sirius pulled out a Portkey, "I wouldn't have it any other way, my friend," he said, even as the device activated, returning them to the fortress-school of Hogwarts.
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Nobu'tan, astride a powerfully built horse that was more than eager to go out for a long run, looked about as the green of Elywnn Forest gave way to the open fields and sloping plains of Westfall, the breadbasket of the Alliance of Stormwind, and home to a fair number of his people, due to its wide open spaces that were ripe for settlement.
The few that settled in Goldshire were well set in, and more than pleased to see Nobu'tan coming to deliver news of their loved ones, especially the blossoming warlock Pansy Parkinson, who desperately wanted news of Draco. Nobu'tan was more than willing to give the information to her, and he could tell that she care deeply for his right have in the Council of the Black Harvest.
Even as he left Goldshire with Narcissa, he knew that sending Draco back here to have some time away from their conflicts and plotting would be best for them all. Narcissa's comments to the same effect cemented the decision in his mind.
"The majority of our people have circled around the main Alliance base at Sentinel Hill." Narcissa commented as they crossed the river into Westfall proper, "it's a rather small settlement, for now, but I think the influx of our people will make a great deal of difference there, so long as the Defias and other threats don't cause too much of a problem."
"Defias?" Nobu'tan asked, looking over at the Pureblood Witch, sitting sidesaddle on her own mount.
"Yes," she confirmed, before explaining, "the Defias Brotherhood, a rogue group that sprung out of the mason guilds that rebuilt Stormwind at the behest of the King, and then were not paid sufficiently for their labor."
"And now they seek some sort of remuneration in the form of terrorism I suspect," Nobu'tan finished, and from the nod of his companion, he had his answer.
"Lady Prestor has many a bounty upon their heads, especially their leader, a man named Edwin VanCleef," Narcissa added, which perked the warlock's interest.
"I see," he said, even as they turned east and started toward the sloping hill that marked the central settlement of the farming community, "perhaps it would be wise for some of our people to prove themselves to the leadership of Stormwind by hunting down these fugitives and bringing them to justice…"
"An excellent idea," Narcissa agreed, smirking daintily.
The woman was quite devious, Nobu'tan had come to understand over their long time together, alongside her husband, and the warlock held Lady Malfoy in great respect for it, as well as her strong sense of morality, which often was sought after in small matters that had preceded their exodus from earth. She was a strong woman, and very fair minded, traits that Nobu'tan wished that he had within himself, but life had not fostered such sentiments through his rough upbringing, and often he felt the need to be heavier handed than might be considered by one such as Narcissa to be necessary.
All the more reason that he had sought her company for this expedition, rather than Lucius, who was back at Stormwind keeping an eye on things and preparing for his and Nobu'tan's return to Blackrock.
"Narcissa," Nobu'tan started after they had ridden on for several moments of silence, "I was wondering you opinion over some of the more recent developments regarding our surrounding neighbors, and how they would fit into the grand scheme that I have planned for so long."
The woman turned, her eyes seeming to sparkle with understanding of what he desired, and Nobu'tan could tell that she was listening intently, not only for the information of his question, but the tones and character of how he phrased what he said. It had been something that she had taught him, the power of how a thing was said, equaling the content of what was said, especially when dealing with leaders of nations.
"Go on," she prompted, and Nobu'tan realized he had zoned out in watching her reaction to his first few words.
"Well…" he said quickly, recovering from the minor amount of embarrassment of his lapse, "Aside from the obvious distance and old hatreds between the Horde and the Alliance, do you think it would even be possible, that at some point in the far flung future, we might be able to lay down arms and have true peace?"
It was a strange question, even in Nobu'tan's own mind, as he was indeed in the process of trying to work toward conquer the entire planet, but it was something important for him. He was wondering if the end that he sought was truly what he wanted… Lucius or Draco would chalk it up to doubting himself, but Nobu'tan wanted another opinion that wasn't dismissive, hence speaking to Narcissa.
"That is an interesting concept," Narcissa said, looking ahead as she thought about the question. "I think it would take a long time, and a great deal of effort, to mend the bridges that were so quickly burned over the years between these races. Orcs are not fondly spoken of in Stormwind, even by the lowest classes. The hatred is palpable for what had occurred, but I think perhaps there is hope."
The woman paused, seeming to ponder whether to say something, before continuing, "A Mage came to Stormwind right before we left, one close to the Prince and Regent. She knew I was magical at a glance, but I doubt she understood the level of power, and even when she dismissed me to speak with the Regent alone I placed an eavesdropping charm on her robe. She is friends with the Horde on the other continent, and is in active communication with them."
While for the question he had asked that was a good thing, Nobu'tan bristled, the other Horde was in contact with the Alliance, even if it was tenuous at best. "They made mention that they know of the Stormreavers, although they are unsure who leads the Horde here, but they are concerned by anyone trained or in collusion on the scale of Gul'dan, which is well known to the leadership of Stormwind, and hated by them."
Nobu'tan nodded, understanding why this was. Gul'dan and his agent Garona were instrumental in the destruction of Stormwind long ago, and they would indeed fear any warlock that approached the same level of power that Gul'dan held. And of course, if he was perfectly honest with himself, Nobu'tan was not at that level of power yet, but advancing leaps and bounds, steadily closing in on his old master's command of the Fel.
"I see, so then I must proceed carefully…" Nobu'tan amended, thinking hard.
"I disagree," Narcissa said, catching Nobu'tan off guard, "You've expressed a desire to see the Horde and the Alliance put aside their old hatreds. Perhaps not the Horde that you've set up, but if they join together to fight against you, does that not achieve your goal?"
The idea was insane, and yet appealing to Nobu'tan. "Perhaps an idea to work upon, but I do not see it happening soon, if at all…" he said sadly, even as they drew near to the outskirts of Sentinel Hill, and had to cease speaking of such things in case others attempted to overhear them.
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Blaise was bored. The tasks that the orc, Neeru Fireblade, was having him run were uninteresting and rather rudimentary for one of his skill. While Blaise knew that such things were important for the overarching goal of the Black Harvest, he had nevertheless hoped for some sort of challenge.
Going around from small group to small group all over Durotar and the northern part of the Barrens, demanding and enforcing the Burning Blade leader's orders to gather to Dreadmist was rather beneath his skill and prowess, but now that he had completed that, and was finally returning to Orgrimmar, he hoped that something far more worth his time would come up.
To be therefore blocked from entrance by the hulking grunts was something of a suprising turn of events however. He could sense that even as these two confronted him, several more of the lanky trolls were following behind him, preventing any escape.
"You are to come with us," one of the pair said, "the Warchief wishes a word with you…"
He knew that there was no choice in the matter being offered, and simple raised his hands in surrender, moving as the orcs directed him to follow them out of view of the Valley of Strength, circumnavigating around the Cleft of Shadow and heading straight for the Valley of Wisdom, where Blaise already knew that the Warchief, Thrall.
Bypassing the elite guards at the entrance, Blaise was not surprised to find a full room of beings wishing to watch his interrogation. The Warchief was there, seated on his high throne covered in skins and the bones of various foes. A very intimidating sight indeed, if Blaise had not witnessed firsthand the advent of the demonlord Archimonde back on earth, or the glory and terror that was Argus, central location in the universe of the Burning Legion.
"So, you are the one who came not long ago from the Eastern Kingdoms, and has been meeting regularly with Neeru Fireblade…" Thrall said, even as the others, Tauren, Troll, Orc and even some Undead muttered to themselves around the room.
Knowing that defiance or disrespect would not be tolerated, Blaise still stood tall and proudly before the powerful orc leader. "I am."
Thrall's crystal blue eyes flashed once with something akin to fire as he studied the illusioned face of some random orc that Blaise had taken to using, probably trying to sense something within through his reported great powers as a shaman.
"You are far more than you appear, aren't you…" he said perceptively, and even Blaise felt a momentary skip of the heart, worried that the Warchief might have just learned that he was a human, and therefore would still discover much more than Nobu'tan wished either this Horde or the Alliance to know.
"I've been told that before," he said cryptically therefore, hoping to sideline the line of thought and urge the Warchief to his direct matter, which was likely the movement of the Burning Blade, and their activities.
He was not disappointed. "surely by now you've guessed that all my watchers in Orgrimmar are aware of your little errands for Neeru," Thrall said, leaning forward with a determined look of pure business, "what I want to know is what ties the Burning Blade have made with those of the Dark Horde… what are the Stormreaver's planning?"
It was a simple enough answer, for the basics, but what had Blaise more concerned was how the Warchief knew what clan they represented, but he had little time to deal with that bit of information, what with the entire room staring at him.
Shrugging noncommittally, he spoke rather casually, "Honestly, I'm not terribly sure… I just do as I am commanded; making the decisions is someone else's job."
"Do you think this is some sort of game…" the massive orc said, before leaning back once more, "We'll cut straight to the point. You are going to continue helping Neeru remove all the counter elements from the Horde's lands, and in the meantime you will delve into the Ragefire Chasm and clear out his core followers, so that his plans are frustrated once and for all. If you are an orc of any honor, you will do this because of the powers that that warlock wishes to unless on the world again, and then you will return to your masters and never enter the lands of Durotar again."
Blaise raised an eyebrow. It was unexpected, although helpful to him, as it would partially aide him in his goal of setting up the Burning Blade to fall, as well as give him the perfect excuse to escape this land, which he personally detested. Nobu'tan might be displeased about it, but there was nothing that either of them could do regarding it.
"I understand, Warchief… I will do as you command, but I cannot vouch for the future for what the leader of my clan wishes…" he replied, turning as he was bade to depart, the elite looking guards making sure that he made no detours until he was at the cleft of shadow once again.
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Thrall watched as the younger orc departed… at least his eyes wanted him to believe it was an orc. Strange magic swirled around that one, and it was clear that he was no true ally of the Horde, but from what Thrall heard the elements whispering to him during the rather one sided talk, the unknown being was no friend of the Burning Blade either, and likely would do exactly as the Warchief had demanded of him.
"I want shadow hunters present at Grom'gal for when he departs from Orgrimmar, and they shall follow him wherever his destination leads. If they can overhear or see something of importance, it could make all the difference to discovering the truth of this strange matter." Thrall said, and many of the high ranking members of the Horde agreed.
"There was much bitterness in that one, but I do not believe it was toward us specifically," Cairne Bloodhoof said, where he stood with the leaders of Thunder Bluff, "The Earth Mother tells me of a great tragedy in that one, but nothing of this place or land… how strange…"
Thrall sat back in puzzlement. It was simply another riddle after the first. But where were these Stormreavers coming from and what was their scheme? Jaina had responded quickly that she would inform the leadership of the Alliance to be on the lookout, but after that there had been no word, so he presumed that she was still in Stormwind.
"Shall we send troops to march on Dreadmist Peak, and eliminate all the Burning Blade in one decisive attack?" Varok Saurfang offered, and Thrall knew that the Supreme Commander of the Horde would willingly do so, even if it was alone.
"Not yet, but we will watch them closely. I want to know their plans before we stop them," Thrall said, shaking his head.
There was something else at work here, and he was unwilling to make a decision until he had a clue as to what that may be. The powerful shaman was sure that it had something to do with the Stormreavers, and their presence here, but he couldn't place exactly what that might be.
"Varok, are there others of the Blackrock Clan that would be willing to infiltrate the Dark Horde for us, and learn just what is going on in the Eastern Kingdoms?" Thrall asked.
The High Overlord simple smiled toothily, "I know many that would consider it an honor to serve the Horde in this fashion Warchief, myself included."
"I'm sorry old friend, but you're too well known among the Dark Horde and your old clan mates to go, but select several of the newer generations, those who would not be recognizable to the former members of the old Horde, and send them with all speed. I want eyes and ears in those lands, as they have south to place within ours." Thrall commanded.
"As you wish, Warchief," Saurfang responded, pounding his chest and marching from the Hold eagerly to find his best and bravest among the Blackrock Clan.
"What of the expedition that accompanied the shaman of the Earthen Ring?" Thrall asked, turning toward the Forsaken in the hold.
"They have yet to return to the Undercity, but it is still within the expected time for their journey." The mage responded, looking almost uncaring in manner, but Thrall knew that the living corpse simply lacked the facial muscles to orient itself to appear anything else.
"So there is nothing more we can yet do, unless more information comes to us…" Thrall said, more to himself than the others, pondering what other things he dared to do in preparation for whatever retaliation the Stormreavers might unleash.
Otherwise, the Horde needed to turn its attention elsewhere, especially to the strange insectoid creatures that had been discovered in the southern Barrens, and other locations further south. The more adventurous members of the various Horde races had already been sent out to investigate, but Thrall was greatly concerned, for the elements told him nothing regarding these mysterious creatures.
And even to add more to that, they warned him of the goings on of the Gurabashi Trolls of Stranglethorn Vale. Something in those jungles were greatly disturbing the spirits and he had need of more to investigate what those vile blood drinkers were plotting. Thrall was not able to rest easily on the throne of the Horde, as there was much to be concerned about, and the Alliance, for once, was the least of these problems, as ever-present as they were.
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Voldemort was surprised at the end of his long flight, when the Wyvern mount he was suing dove down toward a mountain, and plunged through a thicket of foliage to where a hidden entrance gaped wide.
For all purposes it looked like an oversized Muggle sewage drain, or more so like the network of pipes under Hogwarts, where the Basilisk of Slytherin once roamed. Through the tunnel the creature sped, and the former Dark Lord had to duck just once to clear a low hanging set of chains that supported a multitude of glowing candles.
The stench of undeath had to be overwhelming here, he mused, even as the creature landed in a central chamber, where a host of walking corpses, and other spirits of the departed lingered and worked, keeping the semblance of a living city far under the ground.
"Long journey I suppose?" the undead in charge of the beasts, primarily massive vampire bats, said as Voldemort dismounted, watching the Wyvern carefully as it eagerly trotted to the buckets of water and dunked its head.
"Yes, from the Badlands," Voldemort replied, hoping to dissuade the corpse from asking further, but it had quite the opposite effect.
"Ah yes, I hear there was some sort of commotion near there regarding the Searing Gorge, the Dwarves being driven out by some new faction or another…" the handler said, grasping the harness of one of the bats as another undead approached for their departure.
"Really, I hadn't heard," Voldemort said, allowing his disinterest to show, "I have business that I must attend to; however, and really must be off…"
"Of course, of course," the corpse said, probably used to being brushed off in such a manner.
Quickly taking his leave, Voldemort set to exploring the city systematically, noting that it clearly was all comprised of undead, with few visitors of other races, and even fewer living residents.
Despite this, and the knowledge that he himself blended in to the casual observer, for some reason Voldemort was unwilling to shake the notion that he was being watched. Clutching his scepter tightly in his hand, he continued, acting as though unaware of the hidden eyes upon him, and explored to his content, only avoiding the place that seemed to be a heavily guarded corridor leading off the outer circle of shops and training halls.
He had a strong sense of powerful individuals there, ones that he did not wish to particularly confront, or even be seen by as of yet. Returning to the center area, Voldemort spied that there were chambers on the top that led in a direction that seemed to indicate that they were exits, and he gladly took to these passages, finding the elevators that lifted him out of the city proper and into the ruins he had seen while flying in.
While there were signs that these areas were in the process of being inhabited by the dead, by and large it was deserted utterly, which suited the former powerful wizard just fine. Selecting a secluded nook, out of sight from the main road into and out of the ruins, he placed his back to a wall and pondered his options.
It would be some time yet before the group arrived from the Badlands, traveling by foot or in portions across the distance that he had flown, and even then Voldemort was unsure what precisely to do with the information that he received regarding them. He lacked wand-based magic, thanks to his death, and therefore couldn't conjure a message back to the others in Blackrock, so he would be limited to words of mouth, or writing a letter and trying to get it back to those in the mountain.
Neither option seemed particularly feasible, nor was he willing to just hunker down where he was and wait. He was just contemplating when an appropriate moment to depart the city and find something to keep himself amused would present itself, when a shadow appeared near him.
Turning sharply, he brandished his weapon, but the figure, a rather sickly looking corpse in heavy armor raised his hands in peace, "Whoa there, not trying to cause a fight, we just wanted to know if you were looking for some excitement…"
Raising his decaying eyebrows at the term 'we,' Voldemort turned to look and saw a group of four corpses, each geared differently and seeming to be preparing to depart the city as well.
"We're going to go raid the Scarlet Monastery, and hamper their crusade against the Forsaken, and we wondered if you'd be interested in joining us. We could use a powerful mage to help combat their spell casters." The armored figure continued.
It was almost amusingly simply, and Voldemort had to keep himself from laughing at the prospect. "As it so happens, I was hoping for something to occupy some of my time. Perhaps I would be interested in this venture," he said, standing properly and turning toward them, "What would be in it for me?"
"Well, the Scarlet Library and Cathedral both have a store of knowledge that could prove useful to one magically inclined as yourself, and it is rumored that they have an impressive armory filled with weapons…"
The Dark Lord considered it for a few moments, then smirked as much as his decayed face would allow. "I'm in…"
The other undead, despite their lack of facial features, seemed overjoyed. "Excellent," the armored leader stated, "I'm Jadyn Fark, by the way," he said, before indicating each of the other three in turn, "this is Elden Smither, Melody Darrow, and Norward Pickmam," he introduced, and the other armored fighter, cloth wearing cleric, and leather garbed thief all nodded as they were mentioned.
"We ought to head toward the Monastery before dark, so that we can be in position to best infiltrate it under the cover of night." Jadyn said, gesturing toward the front entrance of the ruins. "Do you need to get anything from the Undercity before we go?"
Knowing that he held nothing of value outside of his person in this land, Voldemort shook his head, pushing off the wall and joining the other undead. "What is your name, by chance," the priest, the female corpse of Melody asked.
"Thomas Riddle…" Voldemort said grudgingly, still very much in full hatred of his father's name, but knowing that casually throwing his title of Voldemort around at this time would be a mistake.
"Well Thomas, welcome to our merry band of adventurers!" the female replied, weaving her holy magic around in front of her, and Voldemort felt it wash over him, solidifying the remaining flesh over his frame, and adding a layer of protection to his joints.
Together, the five undead exited the front gates of the ruins, taking the road to the east and heading directly into the forests that surrounded the northern lands. Wolves and large spiders, quite similar to acromantula, moved about in the underbrush, but none came close to attacking their group, and indeed they were more than safe as they made their way toward the norther mountains of the region, all the while the rogue, Norward, darted ahead to check their path and keep watch ahead of them.
It was pleasantly surprising for Voldemort to find himself in the company of others, even if they were also dead, that seemed to accept him regardless of his background or without any question as to whom he was aside from his name. There might be something about these Forsaken, as he learned they were called, and their respect and trust for any sentient undead that they found.
And they found many that were not so as they approached the cliffs in the northeast end of the province around the ruined capital of Lordaeron, the mindless dead already scrambling to fight with humans clad in brilliant scarlet armor and robes.
The group watched from the edge of the trees as the humans branished holy magic and steel to slaughter the mindless undead, before retreating up a small path to the rises, celebrating their victory.
"The Scarlet Crusade, enemies of all Forsaken, as they count us no more decent than the Scourge." Elden mentioned, gripping his great sword in both hands. "They want nothing more than to destroy us utterly, and reclaim their fallen kingdom."
"Why has your leadership not stamped them out completely, then?" Voldemort asked. If he ruled this nation of undeath, those who sought their destruction upon their very doorstep would be the first to feel his wrath.
"Lady Sylvanas is still working hard to make sure we have a strong presence in the Horde as a whole, to guarantee that we have allies when larger threats return…" Jadyn answered.
Voldemort was unsure what greater threats he was referring to, but the other Forsaken seemed to know implicitly, so he said nothing to betray his ignorance of the matter. "They seem to have gone, should we move closer," he asked instead, changing the subject.
"Yes, there's a niche of rock just beyond the outer patrols that would prove a good location to wait out the cover of night, then we can proceed inward and destroy their leadership in Tirisfal Glades." Norward chimed in, having scouted the area prior to their arrival.
Quickly, they moved to the location, secluded from the view of the path ahead, which Voldemort could already tell was watched and guarded, with many Forsaken and mindless undead hanging from the trees, as though lynched after being burned as a reminder of what the Crusade fought to destroy.
"Barbaric…" Melody said when she saw the strung up bodies.
Many patrols of humans marched past their hiding place as the day progressed, none the wiser of their presence, aside from the hounds that they sometimes brought with them, which growled and barked occasionally, but the humans were dense enough to trust their own senses over that of their canines, and angrily pulled them away, more eager to go about their business than investigate a place they felt was secure from incursion.
Voldemort went over in his mind what he would do when fighting actually started. The Monastery truly wasn't of any importance to him, merely a diversion for his time, although the supposed knowledge contained within might prove useful to him. He was more than certain that whatever magic these four suspected him of using was not close to the truth, and they themselves might need to be destroyed afterward to preserve his secrets, but he would leave that final decision until it was needful, but destroying them all was a plausible option.
