Many thanks to those who reviewed the previous Chapter! All goes according to plan, and efforts toward editing ANP has recommenced, with the completion of the Veneficus . while this has little to do with TSR, it is still good news for all, as my efforts can now be consolidated between writing and editing two rather than three stories! We're nearing 100 chapters written, and I couldn't be happier with the results thus far! ~F
Chapter Seventy Five
Quandary
Jaina looked out over Theramore, sighing to herself over the recent events that had occurred in the marshes she governed over. The mages she had sent after the strange warlock spy had already returned, having lost him in the ensuing Horde and Alliance conflict in Ashenvale over the Warsong Lumber Mill. Where he was going, or what he was up to was now lost, and Jaina had a very bad feeling about what the figure was intending to do.
"I cannot see where he has traveled to," Aegwynn informed her, resting in a chair in Jaina's chambers.
"I could guess that he was heading into the Felwood, but as to what his goal was, I wouldn't start to guess…" Jaina added, turning away from the wide window and starting to slowly pace the room, deep in thought.
Spies from Hillsbrad had come down to Stormwind via the sea, informing the newly united Varian Wrynn that there was a conflict between the Dark Horde and the Forsaken in Arathi Highlands, and apparently the ruins of Stromgarde had been taken by the more vicious force of orcs.
Varian was at least wise enough to believe her when she vehemently stated that Thrall's Horde had nothing to do with these radicals that were ravaging the northern Easter Kingdoms, and that if he wished to go out to battle against them, Thrall would likely side with him once again at the slightest extension of alliance between the two factions. But the man was stubborn, wanting to wait and see if the Dark Horde would eliminate the Forsaken for them and liberate Lordaeron. While the Alliance wanted the northern kingdoms restored, with no known leader to take up the lost throne, and the amount of work to retake it, Varian was not yet willing to commit troops to a fight he wasn't ready to begin.
Jaina understood and respected Varian for his patience in this matter, although the actions of the Dark Horde, especially against Ironforge did indeed grate on the nerves of the universally accepted leader of the Alliance.
They had returned to Stormwind swiftly after the death of Onyxia, taking the head of the great dragon with them across the sea to hang over the gates of Stormwind, as a warning for any who sought to trifle with the stability of the Alliance. Jaina had traveled with them, more so to watch the interactions between the two Malfoy family members. Anduin had hovered around the mother the entire trip, the young boy caring deeply for the woman who had stepped almost effortlessly into the role of mother for the child.
While such a thing Jaina personally thought would be good for the young Prince, the choice of figure was what worried her. Narcissa Malfoy seemed perfectly harmless, if not heroic for her defense of her son and the Prince when Onyxia was revealed, but the fact that her son was clearly empowered with the Fel.
Why the younger man had not utilized such magic against Onyxia and her dragonkin, Jaina was not sure, but it likely was a move to keep his status as a warlock hidden. The darker side of arcane magic was still very much frowned upon in Stormwind, although it was not outright lawfully banned.
While she did not trust the pair of them so close to the royal family, Jaina had a hope that they meant no harm to the leadership of Stormwind. Perhaps if she was upfront with them and simply sat down to talk, much as she did often with Thrall, she might learn to understand them as she had the Horde.
"I have business in Stormwind," Jaina said, smiling at Aegwynn as the old woman looked knowingly at her. The former Magna had a keen understanding of Jaina's thoughts and intentions. Rarely did she have to ask what the leader of Theramore was intending with her actions, and therefore did not even get up from her chair as Jaina conjured a portal and transported herself to the Mage's tower in Stormwind.
The mages of Stormwind always appreciated a visit from the Lady of Theramore, and therefore she was able to pass through swiftly, even receiving directions to the house of the subjects in question.
Quickly, Jaina made her way down to the house in the quarter, pausing at the odd aura of magic that wafted from the structure on approach. Apparently, she was not the only one, as every passing mage paused to take in the odd usage of magic beautifying the front porch and garden area of the small house.
Quaint in application; however, it was a very interesting and different energy that Jaina couldn't help but take note as she approached the door, and knocked courteously. After a few moments, the young man answered, raising his eyebrows as he slowly recognized who was at his door.
"Ah, Lady Jaina Proudmoore I believe, what can we do for you?" the younger man asked.
"Heir Malfoy," Jaina replied respectfully. It wouldn't do to lead in with anything rude if she desired answers to potentially awkward questions. "I was wondering how your mother was recovering from her time with Onyxia, and I wanted to ask some questions related to magical theory, especially after seeing with my own eyes the impressive display on your front porch."
The young man smiled, "I'm sure that mother would love to talk about her charms, and it's not every day that we have such an important and notable guest." He held the door open for her,
"please, come inside, the sitting room is down the hall, first door on the left."
"Thank you," Jaina replied, entering and setting her staff by the door, where a number of cloaks and various headwear was stored on a standing pole with many hooks hanging off of it. Adding her own cloak to those hung there, she passed down the corridor and entered the indicated door. The sitting room was cozy and warm, with a large fireplace heating the entire room.
Various chairs and other sitting contraptions that were very comfortable looking littered the room, all facing inward for conversation. Lady Malfoy was in one of them, clearly caring for her sizable bulge, which indicated that she was well into her pregnancy. Through the Arcane, even Jaina could sense the life curled inside the other woman, and the sheer potential of the child with the magical arts was astounding.
"Lady Proudmoore, what a pleasure for you to come and visit," Lady Malfoy said, starting to struggle to rise under her own power.
"Please, don't strain yourself on my account," Jaina said, hurrying to close the distance between them. Lady Malfoy was quite elderly, and the fact that she was even pregnant at all was astounding by human standards, and Jaina did not know what the woman was or was not capable of.
"You are a kind young woman," Lady Malfoy said, settling back down, "It seems that I've crossed the point where things start to get more difficult. It ought to not be much longer now before the newest addition to our family joins the wider world."
"Congratulations," Jaina said warmly, feeling the pride and warmth from Lady Malfoy as she spoke of her family. The younger man of the family returned, carrying a small tray of finger food and tea for the three of them, and offered it to Jaina. She accepted, pleasantly surprised at the taste of the tea, and even the selection of fruit and various cheeses that were offered. Some were quite exotic, and expensive here in Stormwind, and to be offered to an unexpected guest was quite telling of the generosity of the family.
"Now, you said you had some questions for us?" Narcissa offered, smiling in a pleasant way that caused Jaina to feel measurably more comfortable with her previous fears.
"As another person with a great deal of love and affection for Prince Anduin, I just had to understand something that I sense upon you both," Jaina started, the feeling of unease creeping back in the more she thought of it. There was no easy way to phrase it without sounding accusatory.
"It's the Fel, isn't it?" the young man asked, catching the Sorceress off guard.
"I thought as much," Lady Malfoy replied, reading Jaina's face with ease.
"You have very little to worry about, Miss Proudmoore," the young man assured her, "I've spent a great deal of time studying the power of the demons, and yes I am well versed in their magic; however, I carry no favorable feelings for the Legion or their masters, and wish only to use their fire against them, and any others that threaten my family, or those I care about, which includes young Anduin."
The fact that they would freely admit to her, an archmage, that they knew of the Fel was tremendous. It spoke of an honest and noble bearing that contained very little guile toward their claims. She was now part of their confidence, and they trusted her with that. The fact that they were strong with magic in general spoke volumes as well, as only the strongest of casters were able to learn the ways of the demons and not succumb to their wiles and conniving words.
"I understand, and I hope you pardon my concerns," Jaina said at last.
"No pardon necessary," the young man said, waving the matter away, "I would have been easily twice as suspicious if I were in your position. The demons and their ilk have done enough to this world, and anyone affiliated with them, even remotely, can be dangerous."
The unpleasantness out of the way, Jaina sat through a long conversation about the future of Stormwind with the two influential people, feeling significantly more comfortable with them. Lady Malfoy was very much a mother to all figure, willing to give advice and share her knowledge of the way the world worked, and it made Jaina only slightly envious of Draco and Anduin. She had been stranged from her mother, and all of Kul Tiras since the incident at Theremore where her father had tried to restart the war with Thrall's Horde, and paid for it with his life.
Draco Malfoy, on the other hand, was very wise despite being around the same age as Jaina herself. His knowledge of Arcane and Fel magic was intense, and Jaina almost felt like she was back at Dalaran, speaking with other teachers and professors of the magical arts.
All in all, it was a very nostalgic time for her, and before she realize it the day had slipped them by. "Oh my, I've been here for almost the entire day," she said after a small chime came from the timepiece over the fireplace, "I am so sorry for taking up your time so unexpectedly," she said, sincerely apologetic.
"It was no trouble at all, my dear," Lady Malfoy stated, "I thoroughly enjoyed the company. I've had very few female friends in my day, and it was quite refreshing to have a day to rest and speak about things other than whether I am comfortable and have everything I need."
Her son flushed slightly; clearly guilty of making certain that his mother was taken care of in her state of pregnancy. Jaina smiled, the man would make an excellent sibling to his soon to be young sister or brother.
"Nevertheless, I must return to Theremore shortly, but I'll drop by and visit again soon," Jaina said, and she meant it. There was something about the pair was so inviting, that Jaina was sure that it would scarcily be a week before she felt the itch to return and speak with them again.
"You are welcome anytime of any day you wish to entreat upon us, sweet child," Lady Malfoy stated, smiling warmly.
"I'll show you to the door, Lady Proudmoore," Draco offered, hold the door from the sitting room for her. Nodding her thanks, Jaina took her leave of the Malfoy's home, quickly retracing her steps to the Mage Tower, and from there creating a portal back to Theremore.
"So, what did you learn?" Aegwynn asked pointedly the moment that she stepped back into her chambers.
"I feel that they are delightful people, and despite their apparently connection to the Fel, they pose no threat to the Alliance, or the royal family directly," Jaina said, her distance from the family allowing her mind to clear somewhat and old thoughts to return, "although there are a few things about their story that does not add up now that I think of it. Being a studier of demons is all well and good, but the taint of the Fel was too strong on young Draco…"
"Well and good they may be, but I feel that they've had close encounters with the strongest of demons. Be careful with your associations with that family, Lady Proudmoore," Aegwynn advised, and Jaina knew that the old Magna was more than correct. Still, they were very friendly and good people, all things considered.
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Narcissa watched as the Archmage of Theramore departed their house, pondering deeply. She was indeed a sweet young woman, powerful magically and had a keen intelligence. Narcissa had watched the interaction between young Jaina and her son. The pair had much in common, and got along very easily. Narcissa could very much see the young woman as part of the Malfoy family, if not for Pansy and Draco's infatuation with the other girl.
It was not against the other girl, but Narcissa had seen the slow puppy love that had emerged between the pair over their years at Hogwarts, and it had only just started to bloom in recent days. Draco was still very young, and there was a new, wide world for him to explore, and find his perfect soul mate. Call her old fashioned, but Narcissa believed that a young man ought to go and explore the world before settling down, make sure that he had all the options before him before creating a family, so that he was content in his decision.
But the children that they had were so in love that they were blinded to all the other options around them. Draco returned, sighing slightly in relief. "That could have been far worse…"
"The potions took effect well then?" Narcissa asked, surprising her son that she had known. He ought not to have been, she was far older and wiser than him, and Narcissa had intention put potions into another's tea to prevent them from asking too many questions or else accepting false answer.
"Yes, she won't be asking us about the Fel again anytime soon." Draco said after a moment, "I wasn't certain what to do at first when she arrived, turning her away would have been more suspicious."
"You did the right thing," Narcissa assured him, before the clock chimed once more, "It's almost time for you to go up to the keep and spend the evening with Anduin."
"Yes Mother, I'll go prepare for that now." Draco said, draining his own cup and setting it aside.
Narcissa smiled as he departed, before settling herself in, flicking her wand at a large basket of knitting yarn and needles, and pulled out a book on the history of Stormwind, its bylaws and other political tales. There was so much to learn, and thankfully she had plenty of time to sit and just read. But that was what happened when one was expecting a baby to arrive and change their world for the better.
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Nobu'tan passed by the grunts on the deepest levels of Blackrock Mountain. There were many things that he had brought with them from Earth, but this small secret, which only the inner council of the Black Harvest was aware of, was something he had been saving for a special occasion. The threat of the undead in the north seemed like a perfect opportunity to unleash the beasts he had prepared through the Fel.
"Open it," he ordered one of the orcs, who hesitated until Nobu'tan glared at him.
The metal bar was drawn away and the heavy door was pulled open. Snarls and snapping of jaws sounded within, but Nobu'tan lifted a hand, allowing Felfire to form an orb of light as he entered. The Fel werewolves cowered away as their master entered. "It is time for you to hunt…" Nobu'tan said, opening a portal to their new hunting grounds. The sweeping landscape of Hillsbrad appeared, and one by one the werewolves emerged from the darkness of their pen.
No longer did they change from man to beast. The Fel had changed them into true monsters, drooling toxic saliva and with massive bloodied spikes protruding from their shoulders. The beasts would hunt the dead, and turn the living into more like themselves.
Smirking as he watched the lead alpha sniff the air before turning toward the river and bounding into the undergrowth, and the others turned to follow swiftly behind their leader.
"There," Nobu'tan said, closing the portal and departing the chamber, dismissing the grunts to take care of other duties. "Let that wretched female undead deal with that as soon as half the region is turned into slobbering beasts bent on slaughtering them all."
It would take time, but the chaos created by the Fel werewolves would cause suited their master quite well. Nobu'tan planned a very personal visit. From the wall between Arathi and Hillsbrad he had spotted the strange magical barrier where the spires of Dalaran would have been. While he had little personal connection left to the Violet Citadel, it would be good to know if the Horde had to fight against the nation of mages as well as the dead to claim this land.
But before that, he had to make sure that VanCleef was still on schedule with their southern defenses, as that was where he greatly feared any attack that might actually harm his operations. Too much rode upon them maintaining the territory that they had already secured.
But as Nobu'tan started through the underground caverns of the mountain, heading back toward the surface, he encountered the troll warlord, Voone.
Spotting quickly that the troll wished to speak with him, Nobu'tan beckoned at the lanky creature, "walk with me," he said.
"Speak," Nobu'tan reassured the troll after they had walked in silence through the throngs that crowded the main area of the mountain.
"Warchief…" Voone started, revealing that he indeed remembered who led the Horde, despite the Dragonmaw chieftain formally holding the title, "da trolls here among da Horde are small, even wit those we be bringing from da Arathi highlands."
Nobu'tan nodded, understanding the prospects. The Forest trolls were among their smaller races that were allied with them, with the exception of those races brought from across the Nether alongside the Stormreaver chieftain.
"While we be wantin' to rejoin wid our kin far to da north, it is just not possible." Voone continued, "So I be askin' ya, can we move to da south, and march on the gates of Zul'Gurub? If'in we be doing dat, we could force da Gurubashi trolls to ally wid us, and greatly increase our numbers."
"An interesting proposal…" Nobu'tan replied, rubbing at the small beard that his true form had started to grow. They had arrived on the plains of the Burning Steppes now, and soon Voone would have to stay back while Nobu'tan addressed the masons under VanCleef, who were blissfully unaware that they were aiding the Horde and not their own people.
"I will allow it," he said at last, turning and smirking at the troll, "rendezvous with Teg'Ramm in the Blasted Lands, and have the ogres there join you for the battle. I have many other tasks to oversee, but I am certain that any of the Council will see to whatever aid you might need."
"Thank yeh Lord…" the warlord said, bowing slightly, "but dis be a matter between da trolls, and it must be da trolls that lead da attack, and none else."
"As you say," Nobu'tan acquiesced, "nevertheless, take what warriors you will, and make sure that in all things, the Horde is victorious."
"Always, Lord…" Voone said, stepping back and turning from Nobu'tan. Likely he was going to inform his people that their blood fued with the jungle trolls was permitted by the Horde, and that they could rally whatsoever warriors would join them to do battle in the southern jungles. So long as they did not atagonize the Alliance, Nobu'tan did not care what they did. Voone could be trusted to uphold his word, and Nobu'tan saw some of the legendary Zul'Jin in the other Forest Troll. He respected their race greatly for their honor.
Still, he had other business to attend to. Allowing his disguise to melt away, he took stock of himself before rounding the bend where the masons ought to have been hard at work. Something felt off, just out of his sight. Conjuring a reflective glass, Nobu'tan looked at himself for the first time in a long while, raising an eyebrow at what he saw.
Along his brow, and peeking just over his shoulders, through his robes were blackened spikes of bone and something akin to horn. The Fel had begun to change him physically, as well as in other fashions. "Unexpected…" Nobu'tan said, allowing the mirror to smash on the ground. It was however, not undesirable. A stronger natural form would allow him greater prowess in battle, and more intimidation when it came to their enemies.
But for the moment, he wove a new illusion on his original human form, so that the humans would not flee from him in horror when he appeared.
Rounding the corner, he took stock of their progress, smiling widely as he spotted the repaired and replaced gates, the large framework of battlements and towers that rose up the sides of the cliffs on either side, facing away and down toward Redridge.
"I trust everything is to your liking," VanCleef said, emerging from under some scaffolding. The man's armor and weapons were gone, replaced by the uniform of a worker and the tools of his craft.
"It is everything I expected and then some." Nobu'tan replied, looking at the fine detail on the stone. It was pitch black as the mountains around them, and had a certain style to them that spoke of neither human nor any other race's craft.
"How long until they are finished?" Nobu'tan asked, wondering how quickly he could funnel the masons up north to really get a good amount of work done on the other fortifications that they had in those lands.
"Not much longer, a few weeks I'd say," VanCleef said, grinning, "Although the prospect of more work and more money might motivate them to go faster."
"It's almost as though you read my mind," Nobu'tan joked, inwardly seething at the man's greed. But such could be easily worked with, "I may have recently acquired the ability to get you free access to several fortifications in and around the Arathi Highlands, fortifications that I need fully functional as soon as possible."
"You couldn't possibly mean…" the man said, visibly shocked.
"Stromgarde, Thoradin's wall, and Durnholde Keep…" Nobu'tan said, fulfilling the man's unspoken shock with the answer.
"You will naturally be paid handsomely for your work, especially if it is of this same quality on those places," Nobu'tan added, breaking the man's stunned silence.
"Of course, we will finish up here and get moving toward the north as swiftly as possible, I have allies in Stormwind that can get us very close." The man said.
"I'd avoid Hillsbrad for the time being, if possible," Nobu'tan advised the man, "dark things have been unleashed in those foothills, and it is not safe for a traveling band of workers…"
"We do not fear the dead," VanCleef said hotly, affronted that Nobu'tan would suggest that they couldn't protect themselves.
"I do not mean the dead…" Nobu'tan countered, shaking his head, "There are other… things out there, which devour both living and the dead. I would just recommend avoiding that area altogether for the time being."
VanCleef looked at him, as though trying to read the illusioned eyes that covered the infusion of the Fel in Nobu'tan's irises. "I understand," the man said eventually, "we'll find another route to get there, I have connections that I can look into."
"I wish you luck in your travels, and will meet you there in due time to schedule what I desire to see specifically." Nobu'tan stated, turning to depart.
"I'll let you know when we're finished here and when I expect to arrive to appraise the sites." VanCleef said, and Nobu'tan nodded as he walked away. The bandit and mason knew how to get in touch with Nobu'tan if it was needed, and the warlock had no fears that anything would go amiss while he took his trip to Dalaran.
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Varimathras chose to avoid the Dark Lady for several days after the humiliating defeat at Thoradin's Wall. The Banshee Queen had raged at every mention of the loss of resources, and while it amused the demon to no end to witness these temper tantrums that Sylvanas unleashed when the idea returned, he had more important things to contemplate. Putress was still woking on a more powerful version of the plague, to use against all their enemies when the time was right, but the Dreadlord had been distracted from his plans by the powerful warlock that had taken command of Arathi.
It was plain as day that this warlock had set foot on Argus. Varimathras could sense the particular flavor of Fel that anyone touched by its power inherited by spending any amount of time on the more respected of worlds in all the Nether, and that both intrigued and terrified the Dreadlord.
While he was under orders from Kil'jaeden to continue monitoring the Forsaken, and use them to destroy the Lich King, the only real threat to the Legion left in Azeroth while continuing to disrupt the Horde and Alliance from ever joining forces, this poised a complication. If this warlock had set foot on Argus, then he was on orders from the Legion, and whatever that might be deserved the Dreadlord's attention.
Now that the Dark Horde was under that warlocks command, and diametrically opposed to the Forsaken, it served as a conflict of interests on the part of the Burning Legion. Could it be that this warlock was meant to serve as a challenger to Varimathris, and if he and the Forsaken failed the Dark Horde would take their place and continue the Legion's work here?
The Dreadlord was under the impression that the Eredar leaders of the Legion had given up on the orcs, especially after the death of Manneroth and the rise of the Horde under Shaman rule, but he had been long separated from constant and direct contact with his superiors.
Perhaps this was a side project, and they just happened to intersect, and Varimathras was supposed to divert the Forsaken to another route to not interfere with whatever the warlock was after. It was very confusing, and he had little means to find clarification.
However, just because he couldn't go to the Legion for answers didn't mean he couldn't ask the warlock directly… or indirectly at the least. Summoning a loyal apothecary who served under Putress, the Dreadlord spoke softly. "I need you to gain an audience with the warlock from Arathi, find out what his objective is, and what that ties in for the Forsaken. We are short on information, and whether the Dark Lady needs to actually fight these invaders, or avoid them."
"Yes, Lord Varimathras," the walking corpse replied, shambling away in such a fashion that the Dreadlord secretly despised. Oh, how he was jealous of his brothers, who had much better duties, either manipulating the living or else having returned to Argus.
Still, they all had their assigned tasks, and Varimathras would perform to the best of his ability.
Meanwhile, he knew that Sylvanas was plotting to utilize their recently acquired Death Knight to try and assassinate the warlock. Varimathras supposed that he would have to delay that action until he knew for certain what was needed to do regarding his true allegiance.
Sighing to himself, the Dreadlord felt the tug of magic that was warning him of the Banshee Queen's desire for his presence. A servant of the Legion's work was never finished. Teleporting quickly to her side, Varimathras took in the scene of devastation that was once Sylvanas' personal quarters with a grain of salt. The Forsaken assigned to keeping order here had long since stopped trying until their Queen had settled down, because every opportunity the items and décor was destroyed, with the exception of the former High Elf's personal affects.
"You summoned me, my Lady?" Varimathras said, catching the attention of the Dark Lady of the Forsaken.
"Yes," she replied, still angered at some small thing that had triggered her hatred of the Dark Horde, "Thrall has called for an assembly of the leaders of the Horde, to discuss what there is to do regarding the advent of the Dark Horde, and I want to know whether any information regarding the attack slipped out of the Undercity… what does Thrall know?"
"I couldn't say," the Dreadlord replied, thinking quickly, "I wouldn't say that the Warchief knows precisely what had occurred, but the fact that Hammerfall was attacked may have reached his ears…"
"I don't want the rest of the Horde seeing our weakness and thinking less of the Forsaken," Sylvanas spouted angrily, knocking another vase of wilted flowers from a table.
Varimathras did not react, as the shards of the vase couldn't possibly harm him. "If I may be so bold as to suggest it, my Lady, but perhaps we need to allow the rest of the Horde to discover this…"
The anger thrust at him from the Banshee was unsurprising, but she held her tongue, waiting for him to explain the reasoning behind his statement. "It would tie the Forsaken closer to the heart of the Horde if we admit that we are strong united than separate, even if we do not truly believe it… we could allow the Horde to thrust themselves upon our enemy for us, and swoop in to reclaim all that territory. The orcs, trolls and tauren prefer the regions of Kalimdor to the Eastern Kingdoms, so who else will manage these resources for them?"
"I don't like it…" Sylvanas said hotly, "but perhaps you are right. The full might of the Forsaken was not enough to break their lines, we will need reinforcements… and that would only be the Horde… unless…" she broke off, staring into the wall.
"Quel'Thalas…" she said after a moment of silence, and the Dreadlord raised an eyebrow. The remnant of the elven kingdom where the Forsaken leader heralded from in life was still struggling greatly with their own problems. The Scourge had left a great force in those woods, led by a traitorous elf that had been granted unlife by the Lich King.
"Gaining the aid of the Blood elves would be a great investment of time and resources," Varimathras stated, "However, it would indeed allow you to avoid having to accept aid from the rest of the Horde if you could pull it off…"
"Yes… to Quel'Thalas we shall go, as soon as Nathanos reports in, I want him and out new Death Knight, along with all of my Dark Rangers to be prepared to sail from the north to Eversong Woods." The Banshee Queen decreed.
"As you wish, my Lady," the Dreadlord replied, turning away. The involvement of the Blood Elves may prove to be more problematic to his plans than he had anticipated. His attempt to sway her away from this course had backfired.
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"TIMMY!"
Voldemort was growing quite sick of the creature's incessant screeching. Despite its small, child-like form, the ghoul was surprisingly strong, and it took most of the former Dark Lord's skill and prowess to keep the creature from clawing up his armor and robes to rend what little flesh he had left.
Grasping the rotten creature and throwing it far from him, Voldemort swung the scepter of his soul to point at it, focusing his hatred, rage, and cold fury, "Avada Kedavera!" he shouted, more out of habit than need, and the resounding explosion of dark power shattered stones around the creature. Several limbs flew from its rotten body, but still the thing kept coming, forcing the Death Knight to resort to more martial means.
Hacking it apart with his sword was a demeaning and slow task, but in due time the thing was finally returned to death, and for good measure Voldemort stomped the skull to mush just to make sure it would not reassemble and come after them once more.
Covered in gore now, Voldemort turned toward the doors, and with a bust of angry magic ruptured them into splinters, lacerating and slaying the fools who attempted to bar them from within.
"Well, that's one way to make an entrance…" Nathanos said sarcastically, but Voldemort only snarled at the ranger and strode inside, trodding heavily on the broken and bleeding corpses of the Scarlet Warriors.
Few could stand in his way as he advanced into the Scarlet Bastion, slaughtering every foe foolish enough to confront him. Soon however they figured out that there was no stopping him, and started to flee and attempt to set up ambushes.
That was, of course, when Voldemort started to utilize his power. He had been practicing the skills of his death magic for a time now, and he was more than ready to soak the entire building in a aura of death that would debilitate his foes and empower himself, as well as slowly raises the corpses that he himself killed up to serve him in death.
"Come, we have no time to dally around slaughtering their minions," Nathanos stated, pulling Voldemort out of his rage, even as he was about to make a choice at an interception of corridors.
"Send those mindless ones down there, and let us go and remove the head of this Crusade once and for all," the ranger stated, already urging his blighthounds onward in the opposite direction. Voldemort grunted, but saw the sense of the matter. Grudgingly, he was building a bit of respect for the other undead.
They both saw this assignment very much the same, an annoyance that ought to be completed as quickly as possible.
Charging through the corridors, Nathanos sent out a barrage of arrows, cutting down the first wave of defenders, while the second wave seemed to call upon their holy light to aid them. Voldemort would see to it that it availed them nothing. Channeling the horror and might of the grave, he brought sword and rod to bear against their light-infused weapons, feeling the shattering blows shaking through his bones, but he bore it for now.
The first did not see the thrust of the sword blade as the crusader's mace was pulled away by his truncheon. The second was overcome by a blast of utterly blackness that the scepter launched from its high position. And the third caved completely by the slam from the hilt of Voldemort's weapon as he withdrew it from the first crusader.
By the time reinforcements arrived, Nathanos had reloaded his crossbows and unleashed another volley of arrows, clearing the corridor to the very end of the bastion's level.
Turning the last bend to the final chamber, the leader of the Scarlet Crusade finally made an appearance. "So these are the pests that have invaded my bastion. By the might of the Light you shall fall, fiends!"
"Face your end, Saidan Dathrohan!" Nathanos replied, raising his weapons and issuing a command to his hounds.
Voldemort charged, his own weapons meeting thunderously against the massive two-handed hammer in the paladin's hands, but something was off. Even as they exchanged more blows with each other, the Death Knight sensed that something was far different with this man than the others that he had butchered to get here.
The strangest part was, while the sensation was out of place in respect to the other humans here, it was familiar to Voldemort, but placing it was difficult. Only after he outmaneuvered the hulking weapon, striking the human's shoulder and knocking the weapon from his foe's grasp did he understand.
The mortal shook off the hard strike as though it was nothing, and turned to glare at him with burning red eyes. The same red, infested with the Fel that Potter now held. The man was a demon in disguise. "You fools think you can defeat me so easily?" the man said, visibly shaking with anger.
Voldemort stepped back, on guard for whatever trickery the secreted demon was about to attempt. "Face the true might of the Nathrezim!" the figure with stated, even as the husk of a dead man collapsed to the ground, fumes and vapor escaping the orifices of his face.
The smoke swirled like a menacing cloud, until a Dreadlord formed from it, spreading its wings to fill the chamber, and raising claws hands to the ceiling. "I am Balnazzar, and I will not be defeated by a rabble such as you corpses!"
The battle reengaged in earnest, and Voldemort felt the true might that the demon had been withholding from them previously. Ducking the claws sharply, he struck with the sword, burying the blade deep in the demon's body, who howled and twisted, ripping the hilt out of the Death Knight's hand.
Balnazzar was prevented from retaliating; however, by the need to protect his face and head with a wing from the barrage of arrows that Nathanos launched at him. The hounds pounced, tearing and pulling at the other arm, creating an opening that Voldemort was able to take advantage of.
A wild slash with his scepter, and a gale of deathly wind sailed through the air, slashing the chest of the demon soundly. It screamed, falling to its knees and clutching at the wound as black blood poured from the breastplate that it wore.
"Damn you mortals! All my plans of revenge, all my hate… I will be avenged…" the demon seethed out, before throwing its arms to the sky, and expiring, its body evaporating into smoke.
