Good news everyone! I think I've developed a plague that will wipe out all life on Azeroth!... Well, not that amazing, but I have finally finished the editing for the ANP remastered version! that story will now start updating EVERY WEEK! and in the meantime, Project: Raven's Flight will now commence on the alternate writing weeks from Stormreaver! I cannot overstate how pleased I am that my writing has progressed to this point where I am creating original content, and moving on into the full fledged fiction/fantasy industry, and it's all thanks to you, and your wonderful comments of support and guidance! With that wonderful news states, please enjoy the chapter! ~F

Chapter Seventy Seven

Warrior of Death

Voldemort was mildly surprised how much further the city stretched as he and Nathanos made their way through the undead infested section. Two more of the ziggurats rose up in separate squats of the city, each guarded by horrific undead, but he and the undead ranger had been able to overcome each challenge as they approached.

Now however, as they stared down the final courtyard before the massive tower, which Nathos identified as a slaughthouse, Voldemort felt a momentary pause at the sight of the hulking abominations that littered the courtyard.

"We've come too far now to leave it at just this…" Nathanos stated, although the Death Knight could tell that his companion was equally weary of the conflict they had had thus far and only his loyalty to the Banshee Queen was what drove him onward to continue fighting.

Voldemort sighed irritably, before raising a hand toward the nearest stitched monster. A blast of light emerged, flying through the air and shattering the skull of the hulking abomination, felling and attracting the attention of the others, who stormed the two undead's position en mass.

The blighthounds bayed a single sharp howl before charging into battle, delaying and interrupting the front line of abominations from reaching the position of Nathanos and Voldemort, while the two rained down a powerful barrage of arrows and spells to rip large portions from the massive undead creatures.

Luckily, they were as dumb as they were large, and one by one the massive abominations fell to the barrage of projectiles, several erupting into swarms of acidic slimes and festering maggots. The hounds took care of these, and within several tense minutes the courtyard was clear of moving undead.

As the final one fell, the gate to the slaughterhouse creaked open, and Voldemort turned to see a gargantuan creature, stitched together from rotten and festering corpses surging outward. As it did so, a cold voice echoed out of the depths of the building, "So you see fit to toy with the Lich King's creations? Ramstien, be sure to give the intruders a proper greeting."

"Ramstein the Gorger…" Nathanos said softly, although the Death Knight could sense the suppressed anger in the ranger's voice.

"Why is this beast important?" he asked casually, already moving somewhat to the side to put space between the pair of them, just in case the hulking abomination charged.

"This is the monster that killed me," Nathanos replied coldly, "And I thank the Dark Lady for allowing me the chance to avenge myself on him. Prepare!"

The creature bellowed, "Ramstien hunger for flesh!" as it lumbered into range, the massive fists swinging around a cleaver and a meat hook on a chain, trying to attack both undead at the same time.

Mercifully, thanks to their momentary planning, the creature failed, and over swung its attack, opening itself for the counter from both Death Knight and Dark Ranger. Voldemort felt his blade catch the rotted flesh and tear it with each, even as arrows flew from the crossbows that Nathanos wielded.

The massive beast yowled in pain, before turning around completely, trying to locate the pair once more, but Voldemort and Nathanos has circled around, pulling away from the creature's range and continuing to pelt it with ranged attacks.

A powerful curse from Voldemort knocked off one of the smaller arms spliced onto the creature, and a Blighthound rent off a chunk from a leg. Ramstien fell to one knee, before reaching out with one massive hand, but the undead hound dodged back out of the way of the snatching clawed hand.

The hounds pounced then, attacking the face and head of the abomination, and Voldemort was about to contribute more of his magic, when the grinding of metal took his attention. In the far corner of the courtyard, a portcullis was grinding open, being pulled at by a horde of zombies, skeletons, and other undead.

"We've got company," he shouted, launching a trio of spells at the horde as they attempted to force the gate the rest of the way up and started to spill out into the courtyard.

Nathanos turned rapidly, firing a trio of bolts at the rampaging mob. Allowing the power of death to surge through him, Voldemort conjured a violent tornado of wailing souls, and sent it hurtling into the oncoming horde, scattering the mangled corpses in all directions.

The rattle of armor drew their attention once more to the doors of the slaughterhouse, where a quartet of heavily armored skeletal warriors was joining the fray. "I have these, finish off the stragglers," Voldemort declared, drawing his sword and throwing his cloak off oc his shoulders to free the limbs for full movement.

Stepping forward slowly, he judged the movement of the skeletons, which was shaky and limited by their armor, giving him something of an advantage.

Dodging the first one's swing by ducking to the left, Voldemort channeled the power of the grave into his blade, cutting deeply into the armor and bone of the next. The third he blocked with his scepter and a boot to the chest of the fourth knocked the large skeletal warrior backward.

Parrying two of the skeletons was child's play for the former dark lord, even as he used his magic to enslave one of the others to occupy the last, and threw himself fully into the martial dance of metal with his foes. Chips of armor and bone flew in every direction as he landed blow after blow on the undead warriors, until at last one of the two fell in pieces at his feet.

Nathanos returned, launching another barrage of bolts into the pair fighting each other, while his hounds tore into the animated bones like ravenous wolves among sheep. The skeletal warriors were torn apart rapidly from that point, and soon their way into the slaughterhouse was at last clear.

From within, the voice of the leader of these Scourge emanated once more, "Time to take matters into my own hands. Come… Enter my domain and challenge the might of the Scourge!"

"Do not underestimate Rivendare," Nathanos advised, placing a hand on Voldemort's shoulder as the Death Knight started to enter, "he is far more powerful than he seems."

Voldemort nodded; although he had his doubts, and clutched his sword tighter as together the pair entered the cramped and narrow building.

It was a short jouney inside before they found the chamber in the center, where the other humanoid undead waited for them, astride an armored skeletal warhorse. The man's face was covered by a scarf, and the blade he clutched in one hand had glowing runes carved along its blade, but what Voldemort sensed most of all was the clear similarities that this one had with the former dark lord himself.

This had to be what a Death Knight truly was, when under the influence of this unknown Lich King that the Dark Lady hated above all others. "Interesting," the mounted man said, muffled somewhat by his headwear, "I had expected ajents of the Argent Dawn to try and rescue their fellows…" he indicated the fallen bodies around the center of the building, some quite fresh, sporting a grey and white tabard.

"I had already slain our prisoners, but it seems that I needn't have done that…" the Death Knight added, turning his mount slightly and looking Voldemort dead in the eyes. "Curious…" he said, "I do not recognize you, although it is clear that you are a Knight of the Grave as well… where have you been hiding, and why does the Lich King have no knowledge of you?"

"I could ask the same of you and your supposed king…" Voldemort said, stepping forward. That proved to be a mistake, as he felt what life energy remained in him start to be eaten away by some sort of aura that surrounded the mounted knight.

"Then I will waste no more of your time, and simply slay you. The Lich King will have a present at my hands after this, and the means of retaking the ruins of Lordaeron at last!" Rivendare said, his horse rearing back before leaping forward. The knight brought his blade down heard, and although Voldemort blocked with his own sword, the glowing runeblade cleaved the lesser metal with ease.

Voldemort staggered backward, a massive wound on his shoulder from the cursed weapon, and the shattered hilt falling from his hand.

"I had expected more…" Rivendare said, disappointment in his voice, "but I suppose Slyvanas has only just recently started creating Death Knights, trying to imitate our true master…"

"Oh, you've seen nothing yet…" Voldemort retorted, rising quickly and brandishing his truncheon. The glowing soul gem flared to life as he allowed his pent up feeling, so long diverted from affecting his thoughts to overflow. Rushing the mounted Death Knight, Voldemort swung the enchanted scepter, clashing heavily with the blade that moved to block him.

The opening he desired presented itself. His free hand clawed upward, finding purchase on the mounted foe's armor and pulled harshly. The horse bucked and whinnied hideously as Voldemort drug the rider from the saddle to the ground and threw him.

The Blighthound charged the downed undead, and Voldemort knocked the flailing weapon aside as Rivendare tried to defend himself and rise. A blast of freezing wind threw the hounds from him, and knocked aside several crossbow bolts from Nathanos as the Dark Ranger attempted to pin the Death Knight back to the stone ground with them, leaving Voldemort to deal with the onslaught head on.

The runeblade was powerful, and swung heavily again and again, but the former dark lord was agile for his onset of rigor, and his scepter was powerfully enchanted to resist sundering as easily as his sword had. The pair dueled for a long moment, blasts of death magic rocking the building where they fought.

Voldemort hadn't been certain if this one would pose enough of a challenge when he first arrived, but now he was seeing that the power over the grave was something of a titanic force to be reckoned with.

Rivendare was a powerful adversary, but Voldemort was steadily outmaneuvering him, with his lighter armor in comparison and nimbler footwork. Soon enough he had the other Death Knight's weapon pinned to the ground with his own, and slammed heavily into the Scourge leader with his shoulder, knocking Rivendare away, and into the path of several more arrows from the ranger.

These spun Rivendare around, and the corpse lost hold of his runeblade, which clattered heavily to the stones. Voldemort took the opportunity to quickly snatch up the weapon. The sheer influx of power that happened as his cold, dead hand made contact with the hilt was something unexpected however, and Voldemort felt new strength in him as he lifted the weapon.

Smirking as much as his dead flesh allowed, Voldemort marched toward Rivendare, hefting the Death Knight's own weapon against him. The blade swung, quick as lightning through the air, and sunk deeply into the mangled corpse of its former owner, and Voldemort could sense the blade feasting on the life essence of Rivendare.

"You know not what powers you unleash…" the Death Knight said as his corpse fell to the ground, slowly withering away.

Even as the bag of bones finally stopped moving, Voldemort felt a steady pulse of power, much like a heartbeat, emenating through the runeblade in his hands.

"The blade of a Death Knight functions much like the container of their soul," Nathanos said, approaching and drawing a long knife, "the Dark Lady may want to investigate that weapon."

The ranger started to hack at the corpse, systematically removing the head of the fallen Death Knight, leaving Voldemort with his thoughts for a few moments. Turning to observe the room, the former dark wizard spotted the steed that Rivendare formerly rode, waiting patiently by the entrance of the slaughterhouse. There was a curious draw for him to approach, and as he did so Voldemort was surprised that the beast did not react in any fashion.

"It seems that I have laid claim to you as well…" he said, holding the weapon with one hand and patting the neck of the skeletal beast with the other. The horse twitched reflexively, but not out of fear.

"A steed fit for one such a champion as yourself," Nathanos commented, gesturing for Voldemort to take the reins and follow him out of the city.

The stench of death was high in the courtyards, but the clamor of the dead had all but ceased. "With their master defeated, I doubt that this city will pose too much of a problem when the Forsaken return to take it for themselves," Nathanos stated, looking around at the human architecture, "Not much of my style though to be honest…"

They quickly backtracked to the entrance they had used to infiltrate the city, and for some reason that he couldn't quite place, Voldemort could sense a sort of peaceful waiting throughout the forest of imposing mushrooms. The dead had settled back to wait, leaderless and mindless.

"Now for the final part of the Dark Lady's commands," Nathanos stated, turning his eyes to the southwest.

"Tyr's Hand, and the last bastion of the Scarlet Crusade. That runeblade might prove to be an effective tool for us to use on the last humans in the region," the ranger added, even as he blew on a small whistle, and a skeletal horse appeared out of the trees.

Voldemort nodded, grasping the weapon tighter as he swung himself up into the saddle of Rivendare's former warhorse, feeling the comfortable movement of the beast beneath him as the pair of undead started toward the river.

As they crossed out of the Plaguewood however, the smallest inkling of a shadow appeared in the corner of Voldemort's eye, and he turned. But to his consternation, nothing was there. It was odd, as he could have sworn that it was a man in full armor, the glint of ice and snow swirling about the heavy cloak. It was absurd though, as this are was in the middle of summer, and there was no snow for miles around in any direction.

Shaking his head, Voldemort urged the horse on faster, hoping that they would finish this task swiftly and he would be free to go along on his own path and goals rather than doing the bidding of some insane Banshee Queen and her errand boy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Line Break ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Teg'Ramm wasn't terribly sure about this plan by the Forest Troll warmaster. Despite having the go ahead from Lord Nobu'tan, it still seemed an incredibly riskly plan to march through the human's territory into the southern jungle, just to fight other trolls and attempt to forcefully enslave them to the cause of the Horde.

He couldn't speak for the culture of these trolls, but if he was to take command of another clan of ogres there was a more complicated matter. Certainly it started with ripping the head of the chief, but if even a single other ogre disagreed with the usurpation of power there could be a full out war instead of a peaceful transition of power.

Intimidation was key, and while Teg'Ramm wasn't sure what was needed for trolls, he presumed that the cunning and agile creatures valued something that their leaders had to possess. If Voone couldn't overcome the Gurubashi's current leader and emphasize that trait enough, they would have far more than a simple clan brawl on their hands.

Teg'Ramm knew just how far into the jungle these trolls extended, having sent several scouts to explore the nearest parts of the jungle in search of more ogres. They wouldn't have a minor skirmish if this failed. It would be a full fledged war.

"I certainly hope that you know what you're doing with this plan…" Teg said, even as he turned to look at the forest troll after examining the map he was given.

"There be no oder way to get more trolls for da Horde…" Voone said, tapping the location of the Gurubashi stronghold. "No oder Trolls live near our territory…"

"Because Lord Nobu'tan vouches for you, I will send ogres with you, but I do nto have a good feeling about this. It is risky, and I will be going in person to organize my forces alongside yours," Teg'Ramm said, Ramm still eyeing the map and memorizing the route that they planned to take.

"We be hitting the smaller outside villages first, before we be considerin' Zul'Gurub…" Voone added, pointing out several other smaller encampments around the main fortress, "da fortress will take far more dan we be willin' to lose to control."

"I agree that that would be best." Teg replied. The locations selected by the troll were farther south than he had sent any ogre scouts, so it would be good to keep eyes out for more clans to absorb into the ranks of the Balefire. They had a massive regiment under his control now, and it would only benefit the Horde all the more if their numbers swelled.

Already they had to start digging into the mountains to clear more space for their forces, and even more were funneled through portals to the other strongholds of the Horde, making certain that the Balefire Clan was well represented throughout the endeavors of Lord Nobu'tan.

But while Teg'Ramm could vouch for the loyalty of the Balefire Clan personally, he could not do the same for the Forest Trolls, and even less for the jungle trolls that Voone wanted to forcefully import into their ranks. From what Teg'Ramm knew, the Gurubashi Trolls were cannibals and blood drinkers, and therefore untrustworthy even at the best of times. To ally with them, or even bring them in and trust them was foolhardy in the least.

But he had no choice in the matter; Lord Nobu'tan had already approved of the expedition, and he was duty bound to obey. This just showed Teg'Ramm that he ought to remain close to his master's side in future, to advise him more closely on what was less reasonable of a plan than the human warlock was aware of. The young human's thoughts were in the right place, in that they needed more troops to fuel their war in the north, but the right troops were what was required, not any conscript that might attack their own just as readily as the enemy.

"We shall meet you in Duskwood, by the old ogre mounds on the boarders of the mountain pass to Stranglethorn," Teg'Ramm said, already thinking of whom he trusted to run the fortress in his absence. He needed to establish a sure hierarchy in the clan, as he could tell that his own presence would not be possible at all times.

"We be meetin' ya der…" Voone replied, already setting out of the main stronghold to meet up with his warriors and start the journey. There was danger in moving too many of their troops through the dark forest at once, as the human's main settlement was close to the pass that led through Deadwind to the northern swamps, and Nethergarde was always active with magical eyes and ears to the goings on of the region.

Calling a gathering of the most powerful of the Ogre Magi, Teg'Ramm spoke quickly to his underlings, "I do not trust this endeavor of our troll friends, and I feel that it may pose a significant threat to the Horde, whether they succeed or fail. In order to ensure that everything goes better than I fear, I myself will be escorting a large contingent of our warriors and shaman to aid them in taking the lands of Zul'Gurub, and subjugating the trolls that call it home."

"What of us then, Chieftain?" one of the others asked, the twin heads clearly scheming of what was yet to come.

"I delegate control of the fortress, until such time that I return, to you all as a council. It will be far safer this way, as many minds and visions that know of our collective plans will be able to lead in the absence of the true chieftain." Teg stated, and Ramm nodded his agreement to the proposal.

"Monitor the region of the tainted scar, as well as the Dark Portal, I do not trust that Doomlord, Kazzak, to stay silent for much longer, and keep out of the way of the humans as much as possible." He instructed, gathering some last minute items from the main hall that could prove useful to his future expedition.

"Yes, Chieftain," the ogre magi said around the circle of seven. They were among the first that had come after Teg'Ramm himself, the wisest and most aware of his own power over even the others. They understood that failure meant their deaths at Teg'Ramm's hands, if not Nobu'tan's if he was involved.

"I depart now, to meet up with the trolls, I hope that I shall return swiftly," Teg'Ramm said, starting for the reinforced and widened door that they had prepared for their use. A fair number of brutes, warriors, and skilled shaman awaited him, gear secured and packs of rations and other equipment filled to bursting.

Teg'Ramm was aware that they might cause a small stir at their movement with such large provisions, but it would do to confuse their enemies a bit from time to time, so long as they did not come poking around in large numbers.

Still, if they marched swiftly, and passed through into the Swamps of Sorrow with enough haste, they might even slip under the noses of Nethergarde unnoticed. This was what Teg'Ramm was hoping for, but he trusted that their strength was sufficient if they were challenged at any point in their journey. They were marching to war effectively anyway, and some conflict as they marched was almost guaranteed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Line Break ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Make sure that the gateway is heavily reinforced…" Lucius said to the goblin foreman. Ever since they pushed out the undead from their attack, Lucius had worked his people tirelessly to shore up the defenses of the wall. First and foremost had been plugging and heavily enchanting the hole in the northern section, as well as rectifying any damage that the battle had taken on the wall itself.

Lucius was surprised at the resilience that the original architecture had in its construction. Even with the goblin ingenuity, they admitted that what they were doing amounted to nothing more than a patch job over what was already there. Nobu'tan had informed him that the human mason's guild would be coming north soon to start real repairs to the various fortifications throughout the highlands.

Until they arrived however, something had to be done just in case they were attacked again, although from their scouting reports, there was a distinct lack of any sort of activity between the wall and the far river. The undead seemed to have withdrawn for the time being, and Lucius could not be more pleased about that situation in the slightest.

"My Lord," one of the orc lookouts said, calling down from the parapets of the wall, "I see something…"

Rather than call back up to the orc however, Lucius apparated beside the lookout, leaning forward and looking where the being indicated. Far out down the road, there was a small amount of movement. "I will investigate," Lucius informed the scout, before summoning an Eye of Kil'rogg.

The little orb launched out over the wall, invisible to all others who might be looking for it, and zoomed over the trees to the location. What he saw was… disconcerting in the least. Another orc, clearing wearing the tabard of the other Horde from across the sea, was watching the wall carefully, marking down numbers and layouts on a scrap of parchment. Clearly a spy of some sort, and Lucius used the viewpoint of the eye to allow himself to apparate with perfect precision behind the spy.

"Can we help you…" he said softly, causing the spy to jump in surprise and shock.

But even as the creature went for his axe, Lucius waved his wand, knocking the weapon away. "Come now," he said soothingly, "We can discuss this like reasonable beings…"

Clearly the orc was not of the same mind, as he started to run back toward the river, and Lucius sighed. Another wave of the wand yanked the orc back toward him through the air, until Lucius placed a hand on the other's arm, and apparated them both back behind the wall, and into the midst of a group of armed goblins.

"Now, I believe we have a very long chat ahead of us," Lucius said, releasing the orc into the custody of the guards, "Take him back to Stromgarde, I will deal with him later."

"Yes Lord," the goblin in charge said, before slapping chains on the orc and leading him away.

"What do you believe is going on?" the scout asked, having come down from the wall to investigate.

"We need to have this wall ready to repel another attack soon, I believe…" Lucius replied, "and send word to Lord Nobu'tan, another regiment or two of warriors wouldn't go amiss if another attack is imminent."

"Yes Lord," the scout said, hurrying off to where their communication relays were posted for the wall.

Lucius walked slowly to the top of the wall, looking out over the glades and short grassland before the wall. They would need to aggressively clear those trees so that they could see any approaching army long before they arrived at the wall, in addition to procuring that much more timber for their own use.

Ships were already being produced and tested on the sea just off the southwestern coast. Lord Nobu'tan was very pleased with their progress, and Lucius hoped to continue showing their youthful leader that he was indeed the best choice for commanding this boarder region. Hopefully that would change soon, and a buffer would be procured that allowed for this vital access to the sea to be better protected.

After gazing out across the eastern region covered by the wall a bit longer, Lucius descended once more, and started making his way back toward Stromgarde and the Horde's central fortress in Arathi. Supplies and lumber were being funneled from the Hammerfall outpost regularly, and with many more soldiers being transported by portal, it was quickjly becoming one of the most powerfully defended locations in the area, of their spies told them correctly.

Lucius had made sure to fortify the span to the south, and barricaded the bridges that led to the wetlands, just in case dwarves or the humans of Stormwind decided to try and march on them from that direction. Hopefully, his wife and others would send them any notice of a planned Alliance attack well before it occurred, and they would be able to prepare accordingly.

Arriving at the outskirts of the fortress, Lucius thought of the location he desired and apparated. He tried his best not to rely on the teleportation for everything, as there was a great need for physical fitness in this world, and constantly avoiding any sort of long journey tended to drastically affect one's weight. But to quickly shift to the dungeons from the entrance Lucius felt was acceptable when he had answers to break out of a horde spy.

"Comfortable?" he asked as he appeared in the dank dungeon beneath the main keep, where the orc was waiting chained to the wall. The goblin guards took little notice as the warlock appeared in their midst, used to Lucius' comings and goings by now.

The orc glowered in return, fat bruises covering the creature's face. Apparently the goblins had been softening him up for Lucius' arrival.

"I know, you'd love to try and rip me apart, if you could," Lucius chided, walking around to the opposite side of his prisoner, "but instead, you're going to tell me what your leaders are planning with our boarder…"

"I will never betray the Warchief!" the orc grunted harshly, and Lucius smiled.

"Ah, so the Warchief himself has planned this attack, not the undead leader that we fought already…" he said, which surprised the prisoner into silence.

"Not a problem, we have far more reinforcements coming than even you managed to see before I caught you," Lucius informed the orc, smirking through even his disguise at the creature. "Your resistance means little in the face of what we have planned. We will control this region, no matter what you, your Warchief, the Alliance, or anyone has to say about it."

Lucius drew his wand, "However, since you are unwilling to give answers the easy way, I have little choice but to extract them from you by other means… Imperio!"

The orc convulsed, reacting poorly to the wizarding magic that washed over him, but in the end, like all those who did not possess will equal to Lucius himself, the being buckled and lay still, awaiting his orders.

"You will tell me all you know regarding the Warchief's oncoming attack on our lands…" Lucius hissed, listening intently to the secrets that the scout and spy had to give of his leader's plans.

When they finally got to the part regarding their time table, Lucius almost laughed aloud. The orc Warchief was far too cautious. They had ample weeks to prepare a thorough defense for the plans that this scout knew, and even if they changed after the fact, Lucius was certain that he could formulate a flexible enough strategy that would be able to adapt to anything this other horde could throw at them.

Leaving the prisoner to sleep after the ample dosage of magic and other techniques to make him far more docile, Lucius turned to the goblin guards. "Any word from Lord Nobu'tan?" he asked.

"None yet," one responded sharply, "He seems to be contained by other matters."

Lucius nodded. He had expected as much. Being the shadow leader of such a large organization, even with the aid of the Council of the Black Harvest, there was still a large amount of territory to govern and only one vision that was acceptable to guide it all.

Still, perhaps it was time for Lucius to convey the need for Nobu'tan to delegate more to his underlings and free up more time for himself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Line Break ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nobu'tan felt a particular sensation on the back of his neck, which he had started attributing to when Lucius wanted desperately to correct some method of his leadership, and snorted in response.

The man probably wanted to lay into him more for ignoring his heritage and delving too deeply into his past again, but Nobu'tan couldn't help it most of the time. He was raised in Azeroth, and felt more attached to this world and its history than the one he was born in.

Currently, he was working through reports of the influx of resources that the Horde was receiving from their new territory in the Arathi Basin. What resistance the Alliance had put up before was easily crushed when the Fel empowered orc shock troopers ripped through their lines. The so called "Sons of Arathor," stood no chance, when they had thought themselves victorious after the attacks of the undead ceased, and were thoroughly unprepared for the demonically aided Horde to sweep in.

Now they held the entirety of the territory for themselves, and the provisions that the land provided had more than made up for the losses entailed in capturing the whole of Arathi.

Nobu'tan was about to start on another large missive from the south, likely detailing with the ever increasing ogre population in the Horde, when the brilliant green orb of an Eye of Kil'rogg appeared before him.

Grabbing the sphere from the air, Nobu'tan inhaled slowly, feasting on the Fel energy to understand where it had come from and why the spying spell was in his presence. What he felt was intoxicating in texture, and came with the rushed sense of a great distance. And yet the familiar energy was what occupied him most of all.

"Blaise…" he said, understanding the originator of the eye, and knowing the only reason that his minion would send him a direct message in this form.

Grabbing an especially enchanted quill from his robes, Nobu'tan exhaled over the tip, allowing the Fel energy from the eye to engulf the writing tool, before flinging it casually on a large map of the world. The feathered writing instrument fluttered for a moment, before directing itself to land squarely in the middle of the Kalimdor continent, and if the magic was still working properly, ought to be near to the exact location of his servant.

He wasn't exactly sure what he might find in this location, but the name of Desolace did not give him much in the way of hope. Still, from what images he had torn from the eye of Kil'rogg, he had enough to open a portal and travel to this location halfway around the planet, and if there was something that Blaise felt was worth informing him about, then Nobu'tan would go immediately.

The Fel ripped open the pathway instantly at his command, and Nobu'tan felt the change of temperature, cooler than the inside of the volcanic fortress of the Horde, but definitely more open, with the sky above showing the two moons of Azeroth quite clearly.

The land however left no cause for wonder when the region was named thusly. It was a dead, lifeless patch of ground with nothing growing but weeds for miles in every direction.

"My Lord," Blaise said from behind Nobu'tan, and the other warlock bowed as the leader of the Black Harvest turned to him. "I knew from the surge of power of your arrival, and came here as swiftly as I could."

Nobu'tan smiled, being generally fond of his close servant and assassin, "What have you found? I was most intrigued that you would contact me directly."

"The orc fortress here is willing to become part of our Horde," Blaise said, getting to the point swiftly, "They could prove to me most effective in setting up our frontline on this continent, without the need of ships and sailing the dangerous waters whatsoever…"

Nobu'tan's heart gave the tiniest jump of pleasure. If this was right, then all his plans might be accelerated greatly. However, he would withhold his enthusiasm until after he sized up the location, although if there was a section of orcs that survived this environment, then it would indeed be perfect. None would expect for their forces to have invaded the center of the continent like this, although the region did indeed have sea access, if only just.

"I will need to see this fortress myself before I pass judgment," Nobu'tan said, and Blaise was quick to lead the way toward the north, where on a crested ridgeline Nobu'tan could see the outline of traditional Horde fortifications.

He didn't want to admit to quickly, but as he toured around the fortifications inside and out. It was small, that was true, but there was more than enough room for them to expand and build. The lack of timber and other building material nearby would be problematic, but the resources from Arathi Basin would do more than enough to help funnel fortifications to this place.

"This, Lord Nobu'tan, is Kohor," Blaise said, gesturing toward another orcish warlock as the other being approached, bowing low to Nobu'tan.

"I could sense you as you arrived, my Lord," the orc said humbly, "your power shines like a living star of Fel energy. Truly you are the heir of Gul'dan that we've been waiting for…"

Nobu'tan could tell the honesty in the orc's voice. He would serve willingly and happily to their ends, without any thought of treachery. "this place pleases me," Nobu'tan said, looking around the layout once more, "There is much that we can do to improve this place, and turn it into the Horde's new center in Kalimdor."

"We would be honored for such attention, my Lord." Kohor said, almost groveling in his eagerness to please Nobu'tan.

Nobu'tan smiled, and turned so that only Blaise would hear him, "Continue with your mission, find the routes out of this region and mark them, meanwhile I will start to claim and reinforce this location with our forces and resources."

"As you wish," Blaise replied, before he turned and departed. Clearly Blaise had been waiting in this area for some time, and was more than ready to get back on the move.

It was strange, but being on the continent of Kalimdor for the first time, Nobu'tan felt a strange draw to the south, as though something hidden yet powerful was beckoning him…

Pulling away from the strange beckoning call, Nobu'tan allowed himself to focus on the task at hand. Drawing the Fel around him, he conjured a familiar portal back to Blackrock Mountain. In due time he would send several warlocks to start establishing a supply line to this place, which unfortunately meant more orders had to be drafted, and more paperwork had to be sent through the ranks of his many underlings to reach those he desired to act.

Turning once more to look over the dreary land that was to become their new foothold however, Nobu'tan felt that it would be more than worth it this time. With all the pressure being put on them over the Arathi takeover, this would be a breeze of establishment in contrast, and so very near the other main city of their enemy.

Perhaps sometime soon, when they were ready here, he would take a trip himself to this Orgrimmar, and see how the rest of the Horde had moved on after the defeat of Gul'dan.