Many thanks to those who have reviewed, some were most favorable of the last Chapter, and for that I an keenly grateful. Some not so much, but I believe that those were simply confused about characterization, and had a different outcome in mind for characters, and therefore did not understand the direction that they took in dire straights. But that happens, and still, we carry on. Please Enjoy the next chapter! ~F
Chapter Seventy Two
Premonitions of War
Thrall was surprised to see a mage portal open up into the center of Grommash Hold.
On all sides, his elite Kor'kron snapped into action, axes in hand as they advanced on the portal, just as a young female human emerged.
"Thrall!" Jaina Proudmoore said, holding up a hand and her staff in a sign of peace. Thrall held up his own hand, dissuading his guards from continuing on their path.
Standing swiftly from the throne of hide and bone, he strode down to Jaina, who looked somewhat shaken from the magical journey. "Jaina, why have you come?" he asked, growing concerned when the portal behind her did not close.
"There is much that I need to tell you," Jaina said, "but the long and the short is that I need you to come to Stormwind, and speak with Varian, offer him assistance against the Broodmother Onyxia, and cement the truce between Alliance and Horde."
Thrall narrowed his eyes. It had been a long and painful process to even start sending diplomats, through Theramore, to the headquarters of the Alliance, but this was a step that he very much doubted that they were ready for. "I do not understand," he said, hoping that Jaina had an explanation for suddenly wanting to rush their plan for peace.
"You were right, there are humans in Stormwind and moving through the Alliance held lands that have powerful Fel magic, I've sensed it, and they have the ear of the royal family." She explained swiftly, "I fear that they may try to push Varian closer toward war with the Horde, rather than peace, and in the process of this it was revealed that Onyxia was in the royal court as well, and has captured a person close to the Prince."
"Alright," Thrall said, starting to get an idea of where Jaina was going with her thoughts, "but I do not see how my appearance in Stormwind will do anything but exacerbate the animosity between our factions."
"Offer military aid in defeating the dragon; send an army down to Duskwallow Marsh, where we suspect she has gone to ground, and help Vairan slay the dragon and rescue the member of his staff, who was captured saving his son." Jaina said, stepping back toward the portal.
Thrall thought for a long moment. The plan, while hastily made, was a good one. If he made a show of friendship in an hour of need, where he had forces on Kalimdor and the Alliance would have to travel by ship, the united Horde and Alliance forces would be more than capable of slaying even a large Black Broodmother, and in the process make it more likely that respect between the factions could develop into peace.
"I will need some guards, in case of the worst, but I will go," Thrall said at last, even as muttering circulated through the others in the Hold, who had been silent until now.
Several members of the Kor'kron leapt forward immediately, more than willing to enter the keep of the Alliance to make sure of the safety of their Warchief, including the young Nazgrim who had participated in the mission to Blackrock Mountain. Thrall nodded at those who were most valiant in supporting his decision, and gestured for Jaina to lead the way through the portal. It wouldn't do for members of the Horde to be the first to appear within Stormwind.
Jaina did so; followed closely by the six Kor'kron that attended him, and finally Thrall entered the portal, feeling the slight shudder of magic as he was transported through space and across continents to the Eastern Kingdoms.
They were in a high tower, but a quick glance out the window showed that they were inside the Keep of Stormwind itself. The only other person in the room was the handmaiden of Jaina, whom few outside her and Thrall knew was in reality Aegwynn, the Magna and the mother of the great Guardian Medievh.
Nodding respectfully to the elderly woman, Thrall motioned for them all to depart, and proceed with what they had come to as swiftly as possible.
Despite the close watch that Jaina kept over them as they moved from the high tower, the footmen of Stormwind who saw them coming were instantly on edge, hands on their weapons as the orcs clustered around Thrall, protecting the Warchief with their own bodies, but otherwise making sure to show no aggressive action to the humans.
Jaina would make the Stormwind guards stand down every time, but it was a tense journey down to the main reception chamber, where she had to leave them and make sure that the room was prepared for their arrival.
"Varian, I have news." Jaina said as she entered, the door nearly closing but still allowing the Warchief to hear the voices within.
"Jaina, please tell us what you've discovered? The ships are nearly prepared."
"Yes, well," Jaina continued, pausing nervously. Thrall knew that introducing them at such a dire hour would be dangerous, but if it meant a chance at peace between Horde and Alliance, then he was more than willing to take that chance. "I have news of potential allies for us to face against Onyxia alongside, who can prepare the way as we sail."
"Who would that be?" said another voice, much the same as King Varian's, but sterner and more suspicious.
"They are here to meet with you, if you'll admit them…" Jaina said, clearly indicating the door from which they were just behind.
"If there are any who will aid us in our vengeance against the dragon, and rescue my mother, I will gladly see them, even if the King does not wish it…" said a new, younger voice.
"I will see them, whomever they might be; allow them entry." Vairan stated, and Thrall took a slow, calming breath, even as the front pair of Kor'kron slowly pushed open the doors, revealing the room filled with humans, alongside some elves and dwarves, all looking a mixture of shocked and horrified that members of the Horde were now among them.
What surprised Thrall the most, as his Kor'kron fanned out and made room for him to enter, was that there was not one, but two Varians in the room. Whether one was a double, or some work of sorcery, he did not know, but the demands of his station were upon him, and he acted in the manner expected of the Warchief of the Horde.
Stepping forward, his armored boots echoing in the silence of the chamber, Thrall stopped at Jaina's side, "Lady Proudmoore wasted no time in contacting me that the Alliance was in need of assistance, and the Horde is more than willing to extend the arm of peace in defeating a common foe." He said, scanning the assembled marshals, generals, and other warlords of the Alliance, many of whom seemed to have hastily gathered under the demands of the King of Stormwind, whichever one of the pair it was. "The Black Dragons are a menace that threatens the entire world, not the Alliance alone, and we would be honored to fight alongside you in their extermination."
The pair of Varian doubles looked at each other, and Thrall could tell a sort of differing of opinion that passed unspoken between them, before the one who sat upon the throne addressed him, "We are most intrigued that the Horde would so willingly put aside past grievances and lend us aid, but with the knowledge that your faction controls much of the land surrounding the location we will be battling in, we would welcome your input, even to whatsoever you will to the coming conflict with Onyxia."
Several of the other Alliance military leaders seemed to disagree, muttering angrily as the human soldiers brought a large chair for Thrall to sit upon, as an equal at their table of war. Taking forth the Doomhammer, Thrall laid it upon the table before him, as both a token of respect, that his weapon was before them all and not hidden, but also a sign of strength, that we would defend himself if the need arose at this table, or elsewhere. "What are you plans thus far, that you'd be willing to share with me," he said amiably, looking around to see who would speak first.
To his surprise, it was a human sitting near to Varian, a young man with blond hair, and a stark sense of the Fel about him, stronger than most warlocks that Thrall had ever sensed, and immediately the orc was suspicious of this man.
"We planned to send as many as would accompany us to Lady Proudmoore's home of Thereamore, and from there head by land straight to the southeast, and strike at the dragon's lair head on."
Leaning forward to see the map that the young human had indicated, Thrall stroked his beard, considering, "such a journey would take several days, if not a week to get your forces into position to attack…"
"Such is the price of the dragon fleeing to another continent," one of the dwarves said with a shrug.
"All the more reason that I brought Warchief Thrall here to meet with you all," Jaina explained, forestalling the others from muttering darkly in response, "face it, the only outposts that the Alliance have on Kalimdor is Theramore, and we lack the military needed to fight and portals can only funnel so many so fast; however, the Horde has not one but two massive cities within marching distance. We can, with the Warchief's permission, call upon their forces to hem in Onyxia and her dragonspawn until we cross the sea and deliver the final hammer blow."
Thrall started to nod, understanding the full impact of what she was asking of them all. Commissioning the troops of the Horde would showcase how truly powerful the Horde was, which the Alliance had little idea side the battle of Theramore, and still reinforce the fact that they, as a whole, wanted peace between the factions.
"What say you, Warchief," King Varian, the one sitting, asked, "Do you agree with this assessment from Lady Proudmoore?"
"I trust Jaina immensely," Thrall said, gazing around the table at the other leaders to reinforce his honesty, "she has done nothing but foster peace between the people of Theramore and the Horde, and if she desires our aid in fighting this dragon, then the Horde will be there. We will lay siege to the Dragon's lair until you arrive, King Varian, with your honor guard and other warriors."
The other Varian, the one standing, frowned, but the sitting one nodded in respect, "that is far more than we could have asked of you, Warchief. I hope to find you there once our fleet arrives."
Taking up the Doomhammer once more, Thrall stood, "by the honor of the Horde, we will be there," he said, "Jaina, if you'd be so kind as to give us a portal back to Orgrimmar, I have an army to muster."
He smirked as Jaina led him from the room. The muttering had returned, far more intense than before, but it was full of shock and amazement rather than hostility and anger as it had been before. "There is hope yet for peace, and we've made a vital step in the right direction," he told the Sorceress, moments before stepping through the portal to Orgrimmar.
The Kor'kron scattered the moment that they reached the other side, their orders clear to rally all the warriors that could be spared, along with every adventurer that would follow their Warchief to battle. "Send word to Thunder Bluff," Thrall said to a nearby messenger, "the Horde has need of its allies, and we are marching on the Duskwallow Marshes. I will meet Cairn there personally to explain the situation."
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Lucius was the first to see the signal of magic fly into the air. "Attack!" he ordered, spurring on the Fel Centaur, the orcs, trolls, and ogres of their assault force into a stampeding horde.
Other orcs erupted from the fortress, but numbers were a large portion of the battle, and Lucius could tell that they outnumbered the garrison quite well, in addition to their plans. Lucius had had scouts spying out the layout of this place, Hammerfall, for weeks before Nobu'tan started his infiltration, and he knew of the second entrance at the top of the hill.
Therefore the Fel centaur, led by Edgran, would crash onto the front line of defenders, due to their speed outpacing any of their other foot soldiers. But once the battle was fully joined at the front gates, they would break off, fall back to Lucius' command point and charge again, to support Nobu'tan at the top of the hill and thereby punch their way inside the other entrance of the outpost.
Therefore, they would catch the entire fort in a massive pincer and crush their enemies between their prongs of devastation.
Thus far, everything had gone according to plan. If this was the case, Nobu'tan would have sealed in the pathway to the Basin, which both humans and the undead warriors from the north were desperately battling over. With those veteran troops out of commission, they would have a far easier time taking command of this place, and then they could take their time to clear away the passage and claim the Basin and its resources for themselves.
Just then, a massive gout of Felfire shot up from the center of the fort, and Lucius didn't have to have anyone tell him that that was where he'd find Nobu'tan, locked in heavy combat with the commanders of Hammerfall, or otherwise causing havoc to prevent those leaders from directing their troops to defend the outpost.
Once the warriors at the front gate pushed their way inside, Lucius started slowly from the crest of the hill just south of Hammerfall, walking carefully through the remnants of the battlefield, bypassing the dead and dying on both sides, heading toward the gate himself.
It didn't surprise him that a few of the enemy warriors tried to surge to their feet and attack him, but a quick blast of spells, both warlock curses and hexes from his wand, put them right back on the ground, perfectly still and unable to rise again.
There was a roar of celebration as Lucius bypassed the wide wooden gateposts, and he saw the majority of their forces cheering at Nobu'tan, who himself held aloft the head of the orc captain that had commanded this garrison. More of the defenders had surrendered, and were being kept within the small building on the edge of the southern walls, which from the smell Lucius presumed to be a hospital of some sort.
He wondered if Nobu'tan would see about healing the wounds of their enemy prisoners, or just execute them on the spot. There was more than enough weighing on both sides, but the grand warlock seemed more than preoccupied organizing the removal of supplies and distributing the spoils of the battle to their forces, who were more than motivated to clearing the dead and dying to both the hospital and outside of the fort, in order to repurpose it as their secondary encampment in the region, and the best launching point into the Basin once the rubble of a landslide had been removed from the entrance.
Turning back to glance at Nobu'tan, Lucius spotted that the powerful warlock was walking away from the celebration of his warriors, going off alone to a rather vacant section of the outpost. Curious, Lucius followed, stay back a bit and simply observing rather than interfering. It was possible that the leader of the Black Harvest was being communicated with from some force outside the realm of this world, and Lucius was not willing to interject himself into a place he was not wanted, such a conversation with a Dreadlord or some other leader of the Burning Legion.
However, judging from the strangely crestfallen manner in which Nobu'tan seemed to be aimless walking, almost as though intently avoiding the other warriors as they pillaged the fortress. Lucius hesitantly approached, wondering just what had the other warlock seeming rather despondent.
"Nobu'tan?" he asked, stopping well out of reach behind the more powerful warlock, knowing that it was wisdom just in case the younger man lashed out unexpectedly.
"What are we fighting for?" the other warlock replied, confusing Lucius.
"I would have thought, being our leader, that you were the most aware of that out of us all…" he replied slowly, trying to feel out why the sudden shift in mood.
"All this," Nobu'tan continued slowly, gesturing at the fort around them, "the Horde, fighting secretly for and against the Legion, what is it all for? Gul'dan is dead, my purpose is gone. Vengeance is all I have left, but is that alone worth dragging all of you into? I ought to just go on alone, find all those responsible and make them pay myself, before going out in a fiery death opposing the Legion…"
Lucius took a chance. Stepping forward, he placed a hand heavily on the shoulder of the younger man, "There is far more worth to live for," he said, "Our people, the last remnant of your home planet, regardless of your attachment to them, look to you for guidance and protection."
"They don't need me," Nobu'tan countered, "I've seen what great things you and Narcissa have done. I'm more or less irrelevant in the equation."
"Not so," Lucius countered, "They look to you as the one who led them all here, and respect you and your power. Generations will grow knowing you name, and what you've done for our people."
"I barely even know them, their customs, anything. I'm more an orc than anything, and I learned long ago that embracing their culture was more symbolic than anything." Nobu'tan pressed, starting too pulled away, but Lucius tightened his grasp.
"Then perhaps it is time for you to learn where you come from, and who you are as a wizard, and a human…" he said softly.
Nobu'tan paused, and Lucius could sense the conflict; the knee jerk reaction to reject his heritage, versus the burning desire to belong somewhere. This must have been part of what Dumbledore once saw, but the old fool had no idea how best to address it to Nobu'tan, primarily presuming that Nobu'tan would or could even desire to know everything all at once from the beginning. Such things were gentler, and needed to flow naturally.
"I'd like that…" Nobu'tan said after a time, and the dark mood that Lucius had sensed seemed to lift, in part. There was a long road ahead before Lucius would be allowed to stop worrying about their leader, but progress was progress in this endeavor.
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Voldemort stood before the rotted farmhouse that he had been more or less led toward. Supposedly this was the home of Nathanos Blightcaller, the champion that the Dark Lady Sylvanas mentioned.
Personally, he would have preferred to stop and investigate plenty of areas that he had been forced to pass by, such as the undead infested city on the far side of the river, or the small island in the middle of a lake that had necromantic energies swirling around it, but the dratted banshee who had possessed his body would have no detours in the mission that its Queen had demanded.
He had little desire to venture further still, but his body would fight any attempts to break away from the will of the Forsaken's leader, and he strode purposefully forward, the decaying missive in hand as he spotted movement from within the spacious manor.
Sure enough, the door flew open, and an undead human wielding a crossbow stood in its place, the clearly poisoned tip of the arrow aimed at Voldemort's head, while a pair of hounds, turned green from blight, snarled at him from their master's ankles.
"Who are you, and why should I not kill you?" Nathanos demanded, uncaring features unchanged despite the inflection of his voice.
"I bring word from Lady Sylvanas, Blightcaller," Voldemort said, the words torn from his throat. "We have a mission to fulfill, and you have been called upon to serve."
Gesturing at the note, Nathanos ordered one of his hounds to trot forward and take it. Voldemort gladly released the missive for the undead dog to take into its infectious jaws, before it swiftly ran back to the archer, who took the message and read it, still maintaining the crossbow's aim on Voldemort himself.
"Stratholme and Tyr's Hand, eh?" the undead said, sounding almost bored. "Lady Sylvanas is thinking of pushing out her territory here then… Fine, I'm in…" At a whistle, the hounds darted back inside, returning moments later with equipment for the undead human, who took it and turned away from Voldemort completely.
The dark lord had the urge to attack this undead while his back was turned, but the presence of the Banshee within him prevented any such treachery from taking place. "Come now, Tyr's Hand will be far more heavily defended, so we shall go to Stratholme first," Nathanos said, already striding quickly away, his hounds following closely.
Voldemort had little choice but to follow, and all the while he returned to his previous occupation of searching his memory for spells that might suppress the other presence controlling his body so that he might once again have full and complete master over himself and his will.
The knowledge was elusive; unfortunately, and he could not recall the incantations to such a spell, although he knew one existed. It was further complicated by the fact that wizard magic no longer responded to him, being dead, so he had the issue of then needing to modify it to work with his new powers and focus, which would surely cause the Banshee to take notice of what he was up to.
Nathanos was silent as they unendingly trudged through the decayed and dying landscape, bypassing a large tower set of a hill to the south of them, which had clearly seen better days. "An ancient watchtower for Lordaeron," Nathanos said, catching Voldemort looking at the crumbling ruin. "The Argent Dawn uses it as an outpost these days, trying to keep back the mindless scourge from rampaging southward to the more livable human lands."
"A fool's errand," Voldemort said, noting the tone of sarcasm in the other undead's voice.
"True, but Paladins are anything if not fools." Nathanos commented, turning their journey toward the north, circling an outcropping in the mountains and heading toward a lake filled with green, sickly water.
"This is where the traveling gets rough," the undead bowman said as they rounded the far side of the lake. Voldemort paused, surprised at the forest of decayed mushrooms that came into view.
"The Plaguewood is heavily infested with scourge undead; they will attack us on sight, so we ought to stay out of sight for as long as we can." Nathanos explained, pointing toward some structures that were barely visible through the forest of towering mushrooms.
"Well, we could always just burn it all to the ground…" Voldemort suggested, and the other undead laughed softly.
"If that was a viable option, I would agree with you completely, but there are too many undead in there that would swarm us before we got past the first set of ziggurats." He said with a shrug.
Nathanos darted to the side, crossing the central road and heading toward the northern mountain line. "There is a service entrance to the city out here; however, so we can ignore the entire undead filled wood, if I can pick the lock."
"Lead the way," Voldemort replied, resigning himself to the fact that this two man assault on the city would be happening whether he liked it or not.
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Anduin knew that either version of his father would never allow him to go with them to Duskwallow and make sure that Lady Malfoy was safe. That was why he was now sneaking through the city to the docks.
The precession of soldiers through the city was being seen off by the populace of Stormwind, which gave enough crowd cover for Anduin to slip through the citizens, cloaked to hide his appearance and make it to the docks long before the others. Knowing which ships they'd likely take, Anduin slipped aboard, and waited.
It took a much longer time than he expected for the large army to arrive, and start boarding the ships, while the populace stood on the upper rises and waves to their sons, brothers, and fathers as they went off to battle.
Eventually, the boats did finally pull away and start toward the horizon, and Anduin got comfortable. He would just have to remain hidden for the duration of the boat trip, when hide among the squires and other boys that were aiding the knights and footmen until they attacked the dragon's lair itself.
What Anduin did not factor in was being discovered quickly. "My Prince, you got here quicker than I thought you would," said a voice from over his head.
Anduin slowly looked up, relaxing only when he spotted Draco Malfoy. "You've rather visible out here on the deck," his tutor and friend said, helping Anduin out of his hiding space of a mass of coiled rope, "my cabin is rather secluded. You can hide there for the time being."
"Thank you," Anduin replied.
"I know your father, either of him, wouldn't want you here," Draco said with a knowing stare, before his face softened, "but I understand your desire to make sure that my mother is safe."
Anduin shrugged, knowing that there was little point in hiding his desire, "She's been very kind to me, and I worry about her in the clutches of the dragon."
"I worry about her as well…" Draco said, opening the door to the private cabin and ushering the prince inside. "I swear that we will find her, and make Onyxia pay for threatening both our families.
Anduin wasn't so sure why the dragon had done this, and idly he thought there might have been a good reason, but otherwise he nodded in agreement. For better or for worse, they were all heading toward a clash against each other, with poor Lady Malfoy caught in the middle.
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Narcissa was certain that, despite the present danger that she was in, everything would work out all right. Magic was with her, and her son, and she knew that Varian would be more than on their side. In due time, someone would come for her. The dragon was deep in worry about that exact matter, Narcissa could tell.
Yet, there was something odd about the desires of this beast. Narcissa could tell that it was far more intelligent than the dragons she had known from her home world, especially regarding the fact that she had been posing as a human for so long. There was something bothering Narcissa, regarding specifically the reasons such a magnificent creature would even care about a kingdom of humans that lived so far away.
Thinking back, Narcissa recalled Lucius' first reaction to meeting, in the loosest of terms, Lady Prestor. He had wanted nothing to do with the woman and had cautioned her from trifling too deeply into anything that involved the woman. Realizing quickly, Narcissa figured that Lucius had to have known who Lady Prestor really was, and that the dragon had some sort of plot within Stormwind.
Her irritation with her husband's hiding of such information was not terribly great, as it was clearly not something he had wanted her to be worried over, and plans seemed to have backfired or changed for the dragon, given the double appearances of Varian Wrynn.
"You will not succeed with whatever last minute scheme you're plotting," she said to no one and nothing in particular. Narcissa was more than certain that the dragon wished to barter her life off for amnesty, but from what she knew about Draco, the boy was too much like Lucius for his own good. The vindication that this dragon would face would be legendary.
"I do not recall asking your advice regarding this matter, human," the dragon said, her voice eerily melodic despite the deep resonance from the overlarge vocal cords.
"Hmm, well, that's a shame, as I may know the only way that you can escape this situation without an entire army bearing down on this place… wherever we are…" Narcissa said, examining her nails.
The dragon chuckled, the entire chamber shaking with the vocalization of her humor. "Varian and his armies will take far too long to reach us before I've escaped and this place prepared to end them all…"
It was then that Narcissa started to pay attention to the underlings, who were carefully carrying out the many, many eggs from the chamber, and replacing them with look-alikes that were highly volatile with magic.
Checking her person, Narcissa's hand closed slowly around the handle of her wand. There was little that she could do to stop the likes of the dragon, but she would do what was necessary to prevent this place from becoming a death trap for her son and the warriors of Stormwind.
Casually sending a handful of charms over the chamber, Narcissa fortified the structural components of the massive cavern, hoping that it would help reduce damage from the potential ensuing blasts of power.
She didn't dare mess with the bombs themselves, as she had none of the technical know-how that would be able to affect them without risking their premature detonation. And that was among the last things she wanted to happen.
The last thing she did before stowing her wand once more was the Patronus Charm, indicating for the silvery turtledove to find her son and reassure him that she was fine and awaiting his arrival.
The bird zipped straight through the cavern wall just as the dragon broodmother turned her head in the same direction, sensing the magic but being unable to place its origin.
After that, Narcissa hid her wand once more and sat patiently. At least they were not trying to confine her or denying her food or water. She felt that the dragon understood and recognized Narcissa's condition, and was more than merciful enough to not harm her while carrying a child.
Still, Narcissa doubted that such kindness would make any difference in its fate.
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Sylvanas turned as a scout arrived, hurrying along down the corridor from the main section of the Undercity, and bowing low as he stopped before her, "My Lady, news from the south," the male Forsaken said, withdrawing a missive from his pack and handing it to her, departing the moment that Sylvanas took hold of it.
It only took a handful of lines to send her into a violent rage, taken out directly upon the offending note. Scattering the shredded parchment across the platform, the Banshee Queen let out a roar of frustration.
"What is it, my Lady," Varimathras stated, the Dreadlord appearing in a cloud of vamperic bats.
"Hammerfall has been lost to us, and all of the Arathi Highlands in the same stroke…" she said, still seething at the news.
"The Alliance?" the demon asked.
"No," Sylvanas replied, "The Dark Horde, and their warlock leader…"
Varimathras paused for a long moment, seeming to consider a great deal of options. "Do we form a battalion to retake the area? The Basin was not nearly tapped out of resources, and was a worthy battleground against the Alliance. I myself can think of a large handful of heroes that would love the chance to fight in your name…"
"Do it," Sylvanas ordered, shutting her eyes to visualize what the terrain of the regions would be. Long rolling flatlands if she recalled correctly; perfect for cavalry.
Determining to lead the attack to take back their primary line of supply herself, she departed the Royal Quarter. A contingent of the elite dreadguards followed, and despite the swiftness of her departure to the entrance of the Undercity there was already a group of adventurers of the Horde, along with a large selection of Forsaken cavalry. Varimathras must have determined the same thing she had regarding the landscape they were about to march on.
Swinging up into the saddle of her skeletal warhorse, Sylvanas raised her bow to attract the attention of all the gathered warriors, "A new enemy has emerged from the south, and dare to attack an outpost of the Horde!" she shouted, "Will we allow the Forsaken's grasp on this continent to fail?!"
"NO!" the assembled force shouted in reply.
"Children of the Night, heed your Queen's call!" Sylvanas shouted, knowing that her voice would be magnified to ring throughout the Undercity and the entire land of Tirisfal Glades, "Now is the time of the Forsaken! Power to the Forsaken – Now and forever!"
"For the Horde!" Roared an orc shaman mixed into their ranks, echoed by many of the trolls and tauren, and the rhythmic pounding of weapons upon shields.
"For the Dark Lady!" added a Forsaken warlock, to the cheering of the many Forsaken within the ranks.
"Onward!" Sylvanas commanded, starting off her undead warhorse into a full gallop, steering down the road toward the Silverpine Forest, and the entire column surged after her.
Settling herself into the jarring motion of her steed, the Banshee Queen of the Forsaken turned her mind to the difficult battle that would be upon them in due time. Hillsbrad was already a warzone for the factions, but if the Dark Horde was planning to surge further north from Arathi, then their holdings in Tarren Mill wouldn't last long. They had to force these invaders back, and she personally was going to see the leader of these forces ripped limb from limb for their daring to invade her territory, and stop her forces from receiving the resources that they needed just to hold back the scourge from their lands.
Little in the forest dared to even emerge to watch the fully military gathering as it surged past them. More soldiers appeared from the Forsaken outposts along the way, and bats were seen soaring overheard, likely delivering the word of her approach to their holdings further ahead.
A full military warcamp ought to be ready for her by the time that she and her forces arrived. Sylvanas just wished that she hadn't as of yet sent off the powerful Death Knight that was now under her command. Such a champion would have been highly useful for this sort of combat, but there was little she could do to recall him now, and then there was still the matter of how far she could trust the Death Knight to fulfill even the simplest of tasks.
No, she was better off leading this attack herself, and seeing for certain what they were up against with this resurgence of the remnants of the old Horde, which she had fought in life. It would be interesting to cross blades with them once more, and relive the old days when Silvermoon was in the prime of its glory, and now a barren waste after the scourge overran and destroy everything she had held dear.
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Nobu'tan sensed something. Flying high over the lands of Hillsbrad as an eye of Kil'rogg, he had been scouting out the lands past the wall, which his forces had yet to lay full claim to, in the hopes of spotting whether the Nation and city of Dalaran was still present. There had been rumors that the Violet Citadel was no more, and the warlock who had studied briefly there wanted to make certain of this.
But he was distracted by a large amount of movement below, and sending the little orb closer to investigate, Nobu'tan was disturbed by what he had found.
An army was forming.
Many undead, just like the ones he had slaughtered in Hammerfall, as well as groups of trolls, blue in color, as well as the hulking bovine Tauren, and orcs too. The army was forming well away from their boarders; however, it was clear from the direction of their hastily constructed fortifications and the hundreds of tents pitched in the grassy woodland that they were expecting conflict from the direction of Arathi.
Diving closer to the camp, Nobu'tan had to avoid a swarm of bat riders, trolls and undead, as they flew in formations around the tops of the buildings and higher, clearly keeping strict watch of the countryside.
Closer to the ground, Nobu'tan was surprised when an undead turned toward the eye, and reacted quickly, using the power of the Fel to weaken and snuff out the tiny orb of vision.
Snarling in frustration as his consciousness was forcefully returned to his body in Stromgarde, Nobu'tan swore loudly. The new Horde was already marshalling forces against him. They had barely secured their new northern outpost, and started invading the Basin well within the mountains, fighting against the humans there with great efficiency and taking a great deal of resources for themselves.
The shipyard was nearly completed, and ships were already in the process of construction, but they would need more time, and a prolonged battle so soon after laying claim to the region would not be beneficial to their plans.
There was but one choice. "Lucius!" Nobu'tan bellowed, summoning the other member of the Order of the Black Harvest that he trusted within the fortress. "We have an army approaching, we need to seize the wall to the west and begin repairing it as quickly as possible. Prevent them from entering this region and fortify our defenses."
The man stood stock still, listening intently and clearly making calculations in his brilliant mind for the likelihood of the battle ahead, "we will need all the reinforcements we can summon," he said slowly, "if we are to hold the entirety of that wall and prevent an invading force from pushing in through its holes."
"I will see to it," Nobu'tan said, already conjuring a shadowgate back to Blackrock, "just be ready for my return, with all the might of the Horde that I can bring with me."
"As you wish, my Lord," Lucius said, even as Nobu'tan darted through the black portal.
