Many thanks to those who reviewed the last chapter! seeing the responses a lot to me, and boosts the thought that I just might be able to succeed in the world of storycraft. Please enjoy the next chapter! ~F
Chapter Sixty Six
A Reordering
Albus knew that this time had been long coming. In retaliation to the latest scheme that Remus and Sirius Black had conceived, releasing even more of the Legion's prisoners from camps across Britain, the demons had at last located Hogwarts, despite the Fidelus Charm that had kept them safe for so long.
Even as he watched from the Astronomy tower, the highest the castle sported, the land around them on all sides was burning. The Legion had come, opening many more portals for a final dramatic confrontation against them. Albus had placed all his faith for an outcome of good in the Light, and now that faith was to be tested above all else. The forest was in flames, the creatures fleeing in all directions, even as the Eredar lords spent their energy ripping away at the wards and spells that protected the enchanted castle from intrusion.
Below on the grounds, Sirius Black and their other remaining heroes marshaled what forces they had left to them, ready to do battle with the endless hordes and make their mark on history, if any lived to remember this day.
"We are utterly alone…" said Morgan Le Faye, who ascended the last of the steps to join Albus on the tower. Her fury had cooled remarkably quickly after years of constant war against the demons alongside them. She had desired strongly to summon her monstrous masters from the deep to fight, but the Legion had beat her there, boiling the oceans and seas and destroying the creatures as they slumbered.
"You are never alone, not truly," countered the pleasant voice of K'uri in Albus' mind. The Naaru was near, in his office, but rarely associated with the rest of the survivors, least of all Morgan, who seemed to be a bitter enemy toward the being of Light, but Albus cared not. They were too short on help to reject her aid, especially when it was freely given.
"They are almost through, ought you not to be with your students, preparing for the end…" Albus countered, knowing all too well that she had indeed taught many her ways of darkness and shadow, which included Severus, after a long while of resistance. But the man had a heart encased in hatred and pain, and that had drawn the ancient witch to him like a magnet, and from what Albus could tell, Severus had been able to easily channel the abilities that she boasted.
"Merlin sent me to get you, as there isn't much point hiding up here like an old fool…" she replied snidely, and the aged Headmaster sighed. Merlin had been more than useful to them over the years, and he would indeed not want Albus to wallow in his own self doubt and pain.
"Yes, you're right, let us go and meet our fate…" he said after some time. The journey down from the castle heights was almost maddeningly slow, each step like a drumbeat leading toward his death once more. Albus had wondered how much time they had purchased when he had embraced the Light that day when the demon lord Archimonde the Defiler had set hoof on their world, and it was fast drawing down to be only a few scant decades.
They exited the front door amid their forces: muggle, magical beast, and wizarding kind alike; all united against this one foe, even as the wards finally failed.
One of the Eredar, the largest, proudly stepped forward, "You face Jaraxxus, Eredar Lord of the Burning Legion!"
"So it comes to it at last…" Albus said, readying himself, Arcane power forming in one hand, and the Holy Light flowing from the Sword of Gryffindor in his other.
The demons surged forward from their lines, even as their muggle allies rallied the last of their weapons, large metallic beasts that shot fire and metal from long turrets on the top of treaded bodies. Albus never wanted to understand such devastating machines of war, but the demons clearly knew of their power, and while many of their warlocks created shields of fire to protect themselves, many more were not so lucky, exploding as the shells of destructive power struck them, or crushed beneath the hulking weight of the devices.
Unfortunately, as the demons had proved when they smashed through the world's nations of muggles, their technological advances paled in comparison to the marshal might of the Legion. For every demon that was slain five more appeared to take its place, and they quickly overwhelmed, until hulking Infernals crashed down in response to the summons of the Eredar warlocks, crushing the few metal behemoths that the muggle soldiers had saved for their last defense.
At the same time as their counter failed, the front ranks of demons crashed upon the ranks of the defenders of Hogwarts, laws fangs and their infernal weapons meeting the armaments of the light as well as wizardry. Despite their valiant defense, the prospects were grim.
Albus hefted the sword of Gryffindor, the Light buoying the weapon in his hand, even as the massive leader, Jaraxxus, led the charge into their ranks, blocking the polearm-like staff in the Eredar's hands.
"You have no chance, frail mortal," the demon taunted, even as Albus scored a glancing hit on the Eredar's red flesh, "Our armies are limitless, and this world has already lost to the flame of our design!"
At his side, Albus noticed Alastor go down, swarmed over with imps, even as Sirius, Mr. Creevey, and Miss Granger focused their efforts upon an approaching Pit Lord. The Eredar sensed the glimmer of despair in Albus, and smirked.
"Yes, accept your defeat, and let it fuel your way to your demise..." he taunted, but Albus was distracted by a flash of golden light from behind the Eredar.
"I wouldn't be so sure of that, demon!" said a human voice, and the demon turned just as a massive crystalline sword cut into its form, forcing the demon to fall away as it clutched its wound.
The man who appeared was foreign to Albus, in golden armor and surrounded by the power of the Light.
"Lightforged, advance!" the man cried, and the entire battlefield was enveloped in the glow as hundreds of warriors, all bearing the same golden emblem materialized from the sky.
"The Army of the Light has come, your people are saved, even if your world is lost," K'uri explained, the Naaru almost sounding relieved at the coming of the warriors from across the stars. Albus had learned only a bit about this resistance against the Legion, but had never expected that their world would merit such attention that they would come to rescue them from the burning.
"Xe'ra," the man called, and Albus recognized the name of the Naaru Prime, the one who commanded the Army of the Light, "send down beacons, we need to evacuate these people now!"
"I do not understand?" Albus said, even as the man stood beside him, facing off against Jaraxxus, the demon suddenly not looking as smug or confident as before.
"The Legion's battle here is a diversion as they begin the process to rupture your planet at the core, destroying everything and everyone." The man explained, parrying off the staff that the demonlord swung at him, even as Albus shot a blast of Arcane magic into the unprotected side of the Eredar.
"You cannot win this fight," the demon snarled, but the man only smirked in response.
"Hundreds of years have we fought your kind demon, and we'll do it for hundreds more, until the Legion falls at long last," he said sternly, even as flashes of light started to beam away the defenders in large pockets from across the battlefield, and Albus highly suspected that those within the castle were also experiencing the same.
When the light reached them, Jaraxxus reached out to try and stop them, but the man countered with a blast of the Holy Light, burning the demonlord and forcing him back.
After a moment, the scene had changed, and Albus stood on the metal floor of some sort of sky ship, bright golds and silvers littering the entire vessel, even as a massive Naaru floated in the center, easily dwarfing the size of nearby K'uri.
"Albus Dumbledore," the other being said, and Albus turned his attention to the Naaru Prime, "I am Xe'ra, and your people have been saved from the fires of the Legion."
"I owe you all greatly then," Albus stated, bowing humbly, "whatever we have to give, in aid or arms, we will."
"The Army of the Light is in constant need of able bodied warriors, willing to join the fight against the Legion." The man said, standing nearby. Albus turned, watching as their world, just out of a wide expanse in the side of the ship allowed them to see, violently erupted, blasting into millions of pieces and flying outward into space, molten fragments quickly cooling in their flight.
"It seems we have nowhere else to go," Albus concluded, "and we have a score to settle with the demons of the Legion. We will fight with you."
"Turalyon," Xe'ra stated, the tinkling of her musical voice growing sharp, "see that our new allies are settled into the Xenedar, there are more battles ahead, and they will need their rest."
"Of course Xe'ra," the paladin stated, nodding at Albus and leading the way through the ship, even as the floor shuddered beneath them, and the Army of the Light moved on from the desolate, lost world.
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Blaise Zabini had hardly figured out exactly what he would do, in order to sneak around Neeru's tent and into the deep cave network where the Burning Blade's closest allies were poorly secreted in the middle of Orgrimmar. The more he thought about what the Warchief had told him, the more he realized that the local warlock here was a complete idiot, thinking himself more than well disguised in plain view of the entirety of the orcish population.
That was until he realized that Neeru wasn't at his tent currently, and that Blaise had free reign to enter the caves without being seen by the grizzled old orc or his underlings.
Granted, he was not desirous to actually fulfill the Warchief's demands, but the fact that he had eyes and ears everywhere, and knew of the warlock's comings and goings perfectly, told him that it was highly unlikely that he would get away without clearing out the Chasm.
Casually striding through the opening passages, and batting aside the weak creatures that shrouded the caves more sinister purpose, the affliction warlock turned his eyes upon the waiting orcish guards of the warlock coven. They did not know him, nor did Blaise expect them to do less than fight him.
Even as they drew their weapons however, vile curses of pain and torment flew from Blaise's lips, striking them down with unbelievable agony. Blaise admitted that he was somewhat sadistic, and that was why Nobu'tan had selected for him for the most dubious of their assignments: slaughtering the vile adherents of the Legion wherever they appeared.
It was all part of a greater strategy, the Grand Warlock assured him, even as Blaise strode confidently forward, his Felhunter, Pryykun, at his heels as the creature sniffed out the source of the Fel in this area. If the Legion slowly lost ground on this world, they would rely more and more on the Stormreavers to accomplish their designs, and once they had the perfect opportunity, they could stab the blade of treachery deep into the back of the demon horde, and end their crusade across the stars once and for all.
It was genius, pure and simple, and Blaise was all for it, in revenge for their world which had been lost. Nobu'tan had little love for earth, but he was rational enough to know that sacrificing a planet to travel where he pleased was a terrible decision; one that Blaise personally felt plagued the other man greatly, although Nobu'tan rarely showed such feelings.
The orcish warlocks further in were more aware of what was going on, when Blaise arrived to them, and sought to fight back with what pitiful spells they had in their arsenal, but it was of little use, as Pryykun was more than hungry enough to even devour the foul taste of the Fel from his master, even as the more powerful curses launched from both wand and hand, and the master tormentor relished the death and pain of his victims.
The only fool strong enough to actually earn a smattering of Blaise's respect was some loudmouth named Jergosh, who ranted that he was the Searing Blade's finest, even as the corruption of Blaise's spells took him, and he collapsed in a miserable heap.
"Who… are you…?" the orc sputtered even as he died, and the Pureblood wizard pondered at the question, refusing to answer. Long had he simply remained unnamed in his orcish form, unwilling to draw attention to himself due to the long standing plan that he had had with Lord Nobu'tan, being the shadowy enforcer of their slow revenge against the Legion, but now that it was beginning, perhaps it would be wise for him to take a name for his orcish form, to distinguish when he was about his business…
"Tenebrous…" Blaise said, smirking to himself, even as another wave of orcs perished before him, their life consumed from them into his waiting hands. "The Lord of darkness…"
A massive Felguard waited on a rocky platform above a lava flow, snarling at him in defiance, but Tenebrous was unmoved from his pace, slowly cleaning the caves of all the Burning Legion's allies. Cultists, warlocks and enforcers all died the same, and soon enough the Felguard decided to take matters into its own hands and rush at the disguised human.
A crippling pain took down the demon to one knee, its weapon flying to the rocky ground with a clatter, even as Tenebrous strode to it, the Fel generating such a power within him from all the life essence he had consumed. "I have something special for you…" he said sickeningly sweet, even as the green glow of his hands turned crimson. A pure seed of corruption, planted directly into the demon's scalding heart, soon to explode with a glorious blossom of pain and death.
Stepping away, Tenebrous turned to watch as the other orcs fled to the rear of the cave network, clearly where it dead ended to their entrapment and doom. He would take his time, and enjoy every moment of his work while it lasted. Walking slowly away, he barely bothered to look back as the seed finally ruptured, tearing the felled demon in twain and scattering its smoldering corpse in several directions.
"Let there be no qualms about what we shall do…" Tenebrous told his Felhunter, the demonic hound unable to reply other than to snarl and sniff, seeking out more magic to consume, "but we shall eradicate those that defy our master's wishes…"
The others were child's play to eliminate, including a strange goat-like creature that commanded some skill in the Fel, but otherwise was just as weak as the orcs it commanded, and Tenebrous departed the cavern, checking once more that every scrap of the Searing Blade was eliminated utterly, before returning up to the Clef of Shadows. Whether Neeru returned or not, Tenebrous no longer cared. His job for the Warchief was completed, and he was now leaving. The others on Dreadmist peak would be the problem of someone else, even as he returned to Nobu'tan's side to await further orders.
The old orc did emerge from his tent to watch as Tenebrous departed from the caves and bypass him completely, turning to watch the mouth for any signs of life or movement, but the disguised human did not care, ignoring the shouts for him to wait by the other warlock in favor of simply departing the Cleft and heading straight for the entrance of the city. The Warchief would have to investigate if the job had been done on his own, if he wanted to know for sure.
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Anduin knew that something was not quite right about his father's return. To the casual observer, or anyone who did not know King Varian well it might be hard to tell, but Anduin knew that something was off about his father. He'd changed in the time he was gone, and it was something far more than what felt right.
Sure, his father still loved him deeply, and Bolvar was quick to say that Anduin might have just been hoping for things to go back to the way they were before his father disappeared, and that he just needed time to accept that his father had changed, but there was more than that. Lady Prestor, who had held immense control already in the kingdom still wielded that power, now backed by Varian directly. True, he could just be seeking for reasons where there were none, but he was still deeply concerned. The fact that his father wasn't terribly interested in remembering the details of his capture and the culprits behind it was proof enough of that. Anduin had had to convince his father just to open the investigation.
A knock at his personal chamber door distracted him from the parchments he ought to have been focusing on, regarding studies and other correspondence from his Aunt Jaina and Uncle Mangi. Quickly answering the door, Anduin smiled as Lady Malfoy was revealed.
"Anduin, how are you?" the elegant woman asked, stepping inside at the prince's invitation.
"I'm well," Anduin responded, although he could tell from her face that she did not believe him.
"It must be quite a shock, to suddenly have your father back in your life…" she continued, walking slowly around the room and inspecting the objects that Anduin had collected over his life. It was something that he noticed the woman do every time she entered a new room. She would walk the perimeter, studying everything in it intensely, as though every detail of every moment was precious. It was deeply touching that she cared that much to know every little thing about her surroundings.
"Yes…" he admitted, pausing somewhat in the process of speaking his deeper thoughts on the matter.
What she said next however startled him, "Something isn't right about it, you can tell… can't you?"
"I…" Anduin started, deeply surprised that the woman had also sensed what he himself had felt from the start.
She was at his side in a heartbeat, kneeling to be face to face with the young prince, "I know that you love your father dearly, my Prince," Lady Malfoy said, gently brushing stray hairs from his face, "and I want this to be nothing but a suspicion of mine, but I sense something deeply wrong in this, and I must know the truth. If it turned out that he is not your father, or just under some spell, I will discover the truth. I will keep you safe." She said protectively, almost fiercely, and Anduin knew that she would go through with any manner of difficulty in making certain of this.
He nodded, as he couldn't muster words to respond to the loyalty that this woman showed to him personally.
"In this case, I need to know every detail that you learn of this matter and most especially about this strange relationship between Lady Prestor and your father the King…" Lady Malfoy continued, "They seem strangely close even though they ought to not really know each other…"
She appeared to be about to say more, but Anduin's eye widened as a shimmering silver apparition, in the shape of a bird with a massive assortment of tail feathers flashed through the solid wall of the Keep, speaking with the voice of Lady Malfoy's husband.
"I have been called to return, I love you my darling, and will pass along your regards to the others…" the bird said before vanishing in a cloud of silvery mist.
Lady Malfoy frowned, distracted from her thoughts by the sadness of her husband departing once more, and she rose to her feet, pulling a small wand made of wood from her sleeve. Waving it once a silver fox shot out of the end, scampering around the room once before returning to her feet, and Lady Malfoy spoke quietly to the creature before it darted from the room right through the wall.
It was beautiful magic, something that Anduin had never expected to see in his life, as most mages and conjurers were more or less devoted to either the mysteries of the universe or the powers of the elements to smite the enemies of the Kingdom. Something like this was unique and new, and it made him admire the couple all the more.
"It is a pity that Lucius was called away so suddenly, but I have high hopes that my son will come soon to visit, and I do look forward to introducing the pair of you. Perhaps this business with the King will be over by then and we can all have a time to get acquainted…" she said, clearly unwilling to be diverted from her line of thought.
Anduin was certain he wouldn't escape some of the more difficult questions that Lady Malfoy had for him regarding the return of his father, and braced himself for the emotions that were likely to arise as he voiced his own fears regarding what he witnessed between the King and his counselor.
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Nobu'tan sighed as he crossed through his portal back to Blackrock Mountain. The discussion with Edwin VanCleef was surprising more productive than even he had expected. He had learned, in the midst of discussion about logistics and payment, that the former master stonemason turned pirate had a great love for his nation, and was truly a pity that they had so thoroughly turned their back on him and his people, who had been nothing but loyal.
Nobu'tan had not revealed that he was part of the Horde, but had offered terms of an alliance between the Defias and his faction, as well as thoroughly outlined and set down payment for the work that he desired of them. They had spoken briefly on the torments that Vancleef had endured during the riots as the stonemason's guild had been disbanded as well as the man's personal guilt over accidentally causing the situation that sparked the death of the queen of Stormwind, who had been universally loved by the people.
He felt strongly to send some sort of message to Narcissa about working toward having the leadership of Stormwind reach out to the Defias once more, and seek to mend the rift between the two groups, but at the same time they were a perfect tool to use if he truly wanted to leverage chaos over the city.
Even as he strolled casually through his chambers at the top of the mountain, he had to mull over what his goal truly was. While he knew that the Legion demanded that he work solely to further their goals, and the weakening of Stormwind in this manner would most assuredly fall into line with that agenda, but at the same time Nobu'tan was feeling more and more united with the people of his world, both of the Horde and the humans whom he was more like, even if he was from another world altogether.
That was part of the reason that he had sent Blaise to go and deal damage to the Legion influences in Orgrimmar, as well as spy out what those orcs were up to, to make sure that the Legion felt that they had no one else on the world they could trust, and allow him all the free reign he desired to control the momentum of their plans…
A pair of grunts just outside his chambers pounded their chests in respect as Nobu'tan exited to the rest of the mountain's interior, and the Grand Warlock nodded to each of them, still lost in thought.
Spying Draco quickly enough, and therefore knowing that his plans were well in motion, he signaled for the other disguised young man to approach, and turned down a narrow passage that was nearly deserted. "Your mother wishes you to come to her in Stormwind at your earliest convenience, as well as Miss Parkinson in Goldshire…" he stated directly, watching as the orcish face broke into a grin before smoothing itself over again.
"Lucius ought to be returning soon, so you may meet him on your journey, however I know how much you mean to Narcissa, and she will be more than pleased to see you again…" Nobu'tan continued, before turning at the end of the side passage to gaze out a high window toward the Searing Gorge.
Something was wrong there, the landscape had been changed greatly from the time he had gone, "What happened here?" he asked, changing subjects quickly.
"The dwarves attacked in greater numbers, along with their allies to the north…" Draco confirmed, "We won, but there were some losses. The northern passage to their realm had to be sealed to prevent another such attack."
Nobu'tan nodded after a long moment. He had desired to make use of that gate at some point, but if the issue of their safety in their own lands was required, then it was the right choice to make. "Your work?" he asked, wanting to know who among his people had made the decision on his behalf.
"Teg'Ramm," Draco responded, and Nobu'tan smirked. Of course it would have been his apprentice, officially. The ogre mage was growing ever wiser and more cunning with every experience that he found in this land. The other ogre clans were more than envious of Balefire, which Teg'Ramm led, and were close to officially merging in with his.
He wondered if perhaps it would be wise to send Teg'Ramm off to recruit more ogres either back at the Blasted Lands or north to the Arathi Highlands, where Shadow Hunter Vosh'gajin had reported spotting several mounds as he led raiding parties to capture more forest trolls for their cause.
"An interesting idea…" he said, more to himself than to Draco, but waved away the curious look that the other warlock had regarding it.
"Where is Teg'Ramm now?" he asked instead.
"Overseeing the training of the orc warriors, and filtering out the most elite for a potential experiment that we both wanted to run past you before committing to." The second of the Council of the Black Harvest replied, which perked Nobu'tan's interest.
"I see, take me to him, and we will discuss this little plan of yours…" he said, following as Draco started toward the entrance to the mountain on the southern side, opening out of wide black iron gates to the Burning Steppes.
On the wide ashen fields, great concourses of the Horde's orcish warriors were amassed, perfectly set in rank and file and swinging their weapons in unison, the very picture of a military being drilled. Teg'Ramm was present, alongside Warchief Nek'rosh Skullcrusher and the other orcish leadership, watching the exercise with a shrewd eye for detail.
As Nobu'tan approached, they turned to face him, shouting for the grunts to cease and stand at the ready, which they complied without question or delay.
"I see you are working them as hard as ever…" Nobu'tan stated, failing to repress the pride in his voice at their work during his absence.
Teg'Ramm smiled at the praise, while the senior ranking orcs merely grunted their approval. "Yes," Nek'rosh replied, "after that battle with the dwarves it was more than clear that Teg'Ramm was correct in presuming that we needed more training."
Nobu'tan nodded, beckoning for the ogre mage to join him and Draco as they moved off around the mountain to the secreted Altar of Storms, which the ogre magi had been more or less occupying since discovering that it had been erected by the Blackrock Clan long ago. They had spent tireless hours honing the stones with what they had learned under Nobu'tan, and improving it to fill the ranks of their clan with powerful allies and able magi.
"So, Draco tells me you had an idea to improve our armies further Teg'Ramm, but felt that it was right for you both to present it to me at once," Nobu'tan mentioned as they approached the stone circle outlined by high statues of cloaked figures.
"Oh course my master," the ogre replied, sounding as pleased as he looked. Clearly he and Draco had gotten along well enough to hatch something like this, "and it is fortunate that you've chosen this location, as it would require the use of the Altar of Storms…"
That part had Nobu'tan intrigued, and he listened as the pair of advisors brought forth their idea to empower choice warriors of the orc ranks, imbuing them with portions of Fel energy and setting them up as lesser officers over the rank and file, which would give them greater control over their armies in times of war. Teg'Ramm explained that it was this lack of communication from the leaders to their warriors that had cost them many lives in the battle, even if it was still a victory.
Draco added that they had waited because of the knowledge that the orcs as a race had already been given the blood of a Pit Lord, and therefore might be heavily resistant to anything less than another mighty beast's essence.
"You were correct in your assumption, Draco…" Nobu'tan confirmed when they had finished. "The Orcs were given portions of the blood of Manneroth the Destructor, greatest of the Annihilan, and nothing less than another Pit Lord would give them strength enough to make any impact upon them. Great care would have to be taken however, to mold them with the Fel so that they remain loyal and cunning, rather than turning into raving berserkers that will attack even their own allies… Gul'dan had debated with the idea long ago, but cast it aside because of how few warlocks were left."
"But we are many now…" Teg'Ramm said, completing the thought that Nobu'tan was already pursuing.
"Precisely…" the Grand Warlock said with a grin. "I will lead the ritual, we shall bring one forth now as an experiment, and tailor a better ritual through its success or failure. Go now and select one of the better warriors for this conversion, while I plead our case to the Legion."
"Yes master," Teg'Ramm said, turning to stride away back toward the other orcs and their training, while Draco and Nobu'tan went to the Altar of Storms itself. The Grand Warlock dismissed the others there channeling Fel energy into more stones, wishing to be alone when he contacted the Legion, aside from Draco, and only when the others were departed a safe distance did he begin the ritual to open a window to Argus.
From what he had learned on the surface of that planet, gleaned even as they passed through nearly uneventfully, he knew that all mortals were typically forbidden from walking its surface, nevertheless if he wished, he could open a small portal there at any time, but not one large enough for a demon lord to pass through or even a very small army. That was the purpose behind all the artifacts, most of which had been consumed in the creation of the Black Gate and the passing of Archimonde to earth.
All he retained was the book of Merlin, as well as the Elder Wand, which had curiously lost none of its potency in the process, but brimmed now with a small Fel charge when the Grand Warlock took it out to study.
"My Lord Kil'jaeden, I have need of the blood of an Annihilan to pave the way for our armies to ravage this world…" Nobu'tan stated into the window, knowing that word would reach the Lord of the Legion of his request in due time.
"Do you now..." the voice of the Deceiver replied, curiosity in the contemptuous voice, "I suppose I can grant it once more for you to use, although I am curious why you need it…"
"The orcs need stronger leadership, and I can only be in so many places at once…" Nobu'tan said, only speaking part of their plan to the demon, as he was well aware that it was difficult for Kil'jaeden to keep eyes on him at all times.
The demon chuckled, the voice heavy and booming from the portal to the desolate world, "Such tenacity, and such impudence. You shall do well for us, young warlock. Be prepared…"
There was a resounding flash of light as the portal was torn wider, and a hulking shape lumbered through, great blade hanging from the stumps of his arms. "Welcome mighty one, to Azeroth at last…" Nobu'tan said as the Annihilan surveyed the dark land around them.
"I am Brutallus," the great demon seethed, "and I look forward to empowering your warriors with my blood…"
Nobu'tan had heard of the great veteran of thousands of battles. Scared, beaten and broken many times over, the great Brutallus had survived hundreds of years on the battlefield, only to emerge the conqueror time and again. His blood would be rich in the energy of the Fel, and provide his warriors the tenacity to fight on even when fatally injured.
Channeling the Fel, Nobu'tan conjured a vessel worthy of holding the powerfully magical blood, and watched as the dark stone erupted from the ground of the Altar of Storms, pulling inherent magic from the surrounding stones to sustain itself and the power it was about to contain.
"Something is different about here now…" Draco said, approaching Nobu'tan and looking around the stones of the Altar.
"Yes…" the demon stated, also approaching the font in the middle of the large set of stones. "This place is no more the same minor font of Fel that is was before." The demon added, using one of its cruel blade attachments to cut a deep wound on his own arm, allowing the burning green blood to pour freely into the fountain, which blazed as the Pit Lord's blood filled it to overflowing.
Nobu'tan sensed the immediate change of power the moment the blood filled the fountain, tainting and empowering the strength of the Fel around them. "Yes," he agreed, "this is something new, undreamed of by even the prospects of Gul'dan… this is an Altar of Fel…"
At that point, Teg'Ramm reappeared alongside one of the larger and stronger looking grunts of the Horde, who seemed apprehensive to approach the large demon and the fountain filled with glowing green blood.
"Come forth warrior," Nobu'tan urged, extending a hand, but doing nothing else to alleviate the orc's natural fear. Fear was healthy and good for such a situation.
Conjuring a chalice, much like the one he used so often on earth, Nobu'tan dipped it into the font, careful to avoid touching the blood himself, and turned to face the warrior, "You have been selected for your great strategic wisdom and raw strength, to be gifted with added power by the Fel, and become a leader in the Horde…"
The warrior was boastful, clearly, and the compliment stroked his ego, and even tempered some of the fear he felt slowly evaporated. The orc started for the chalice, but Nobu'tan pulled it back, "Not just yet, we need to prepare the ritual to make sure that the power in this doesn't overtake you, and destroy that cunning that earned you our notice…"
The orc dropped his hand quickly, embarrassed at his rashness. "Teg'Ramm, summon back the other warlocks, we will begin as soon as they are assembled."
"Yes, Master," the Ogre Mage replied, venturing off once more. Brutallus had moved to the far side, easily able to see the goings on without his presence influencing it. Meanwhile, Nobu'tan drew the old wooden wand, etching lines of magical energy into the face of the Altar around the new Fel fountain, specifically for a standard flow of magic toward a central point, a basic runic array.
"Come warrior, you will stand here for the ritual, and I will walk you through what is expected of you while the others assemble," Nobu'tan said, beckoning the orc toward the center, directly before the fountain of Fel.
"Hold the chalice with both hands, but do not drink until I tell you to," Nobu'tan said, handing the goblet over. "All you need to do otherwise is remain as still as you can while we guide the magic into you…"
The grunt nodded, clutching the wooden goblet tightly as though it might slip if he became lax, even as the other warlocks arrived.
Most had seen such a design for a ritual circle before, and took generic places around the edges, offering their control over the Fel for Nobu'tan to direct and manipulate to his ends, even without their knowledge of the exact nature of the ritual.
Taking the head of the formation, he allowed the Fel to enter him, mixing with the wizarding magic that he so easily controlled, and sent it into the usual circles, following the path that the ritual lines guided. The well of Fel energy offered great power to assist him in this regard, forming a protective bubble from outside influences that would aid him in molding the mind of the orc warrior to his wishes.
"Drink," he commanded, and the orc obeyed, downing the entire goblet full of demon blood in one go. The chalice clattered to the stones, even as the orc fought to keep his feet, but Nobu'tan was already channeling the power to follow the flow of the blood through the orcs body, allowing the changes to take effect but preserving the mind of the being, bending it to his will rather than allow it to break with the intense burning power of the Fel Blood.
The physical changes of the orc were the most impressive thing however, as the grey-green body swelled in size, the skin turning a blood red as the eyes flashed to demonic red. Spikes and fangs grew long the body of the orc, and Nobu'tan could tell that the physical prowess of this warrior had more than tripled in effect, a prime candidate for the front lines, if the mind had shattered under the strain.
Even as the Fel magic faded away, allowing the Fel orc to fall to his knees, Nobu'tan approached, "Whom do you serve…" he said, checking if the orc had cognitive function still. "I serve the Horde of Lord Nobu'tan…" the orc muttered, his voice very different, deeper and more dangerous than before.
"Rise…" Nobu'tan commanded, turning to glance around the circle of warlocks as he was obeyed. "We have achieved success, forming a warrior both powerful and cunning. Go forth and take the strongest and most clever of our warriors and transform them likewise, making them leaders over the Horde so that our armies have powerful commanders and berserkers in positions of power, remaining loyal to ourselves and our masters…" he commanded, sparing only a single glance at the Pit Lord in the distance, who seemed to be watching with a pleased grim on its wide fanged face.
