R&R and enjoy! ~F

Chapter Ninety Eight

Battle of Five Armies

Nobu'tan watched impassively as the coast drifted past the Dark Horde fleet. Every ship that they could muster was fully stocked and carry troops northward, following their initial strike force led by Voldemort.

Tyr's hand supposed had been cleared out by the former dark lord already, but it was better safe than not in making sure that no one else had taken up living there once the Death Knight had departed.

From what intelligence that his scouts had gathered, Nobu'tan was aware that both Horde and Alliance forces were also converging on the Black Citadel, and it was highly likely that they would meet before arriving at the flying undead fortress.

Nobu'tan was looking forward to it. He had already planned ahead for the potential meeting, and had procured resources ahead of time to be sent by one-way portal to Voldemort's force, and their siege engines had been constructed at the same time as their temporary defenses of the ruined city.

Within a few hours, the ships pulled up to the human-built dock at the edge of the Plaguelands, and Nobu'tan could see the hints of their occupation dotting the ridge up to the fortified area of the former human settlement. Voldemort was there waiting for them, alongside his group of Death Knights and Necrolytes, smirking from the gleam in his red eyes as their reinforcements started to disembark.

"Everything goes as expected, I hope?" Nobu'tan asked, and the Death Knight nodded.

"Excellent, I want everything prepared to move on the Necropolis as quickly as possible." Nobu'tan instructed, following the line of death-magic wielders up the ridge. "The sooner we're done here, the better for everyone involved."

Voldemort said nothing, but led the way up to the fortification as more Dark Horde warriors disembarked. Amani Trolls, Dragonmaw and Blackrock orcs, and Balefire ogres would make up the mainstay of their assault force, complimented by several goblin engineering squad and the Death Knights themselves.

Only a small defensive force would be left behind to mind the peons back at the landing, to defend the ships for when they returned. Raising a hand, Nobu'tan mumbled the incantation that Blaise had taught him and the rest of the Black Harvest some time ago.

With a withering cry, the Dreadsteeds of Xoroth were called, bound to obey the Grand Warlock of the Stormreaver Clan. At the head of his army, Nobu'tan led them out into the Plaguelands, alongside Blaise, Crabbe and Goyle Jr., as well as Yaxley.

From what he suspected, Draco would come with the Alliance strike force, and that would be an ace up their sleeve if violence started between the three factions. Still, there was a great deal of surprise that shot through the ranks as the set out onto the main road, and spotted the banners and heard the war horns of not one, but two other approaching armies.

The ruin of a human village was the only thing barring their vision of the approaching armies, as they reached the massive crossroads that led to the north, where the massive Black Citadel loomed in the distance.

"Warchief, we hold here," Nobu'tan said, indicating for Nek'rosh to sound the halt.

The blaring of horns came from the west and even more to the south, but Nobu'tan greatly expected the other Horde faction to arrive first. Out of the corner of his eye, the warlock spotted movement in the ruins of the village, and sharply slashed a hand in front of him. Fel flames surged outward over the rotting buildings and tore through timber and stone. Cries of surprise and pain rang out, and a handful of undead scouts fell back, some burned, but mostly unharmed.

The damage to the buildings, however, was Nobu'tan's primary goal. Within moments of being set alight, the smaller houses and building collapsed, their rotten support beams crumbling under the demonic fire, revealing the army on the western horizon rapidly approaching.

"My Lord, we are in the open here," Yaxley hissed in Nobu'tan's ear, "we should find cover and launch our assault at a range."

"No," Nobu'tan countered, "While we have every right to fight them here and now, the Scourge is the priority for all of us, and I doubt they want to waste troops losing to us before reaching their goal."

But it seemed that perhaps the other force approaching them was not in the exact mind that Nobu'tan had presumed. They were approaching at full speed, charging across the wastes at them. The Amani trolls leered at the approaching force, more than ready for the chance at their vengeance so soon, but Nobu'tan would not have it.

Drawing his wizarding wand, he whispered an incantation, conjuring a multitude of orbs and launching them into the air toward the Horde's lines, causing explosion to rock the ground between the armies. The Orc warriors in the lead of the advancing force stumbled to a halt, surprised and throw off their charge by the spontaneous magic.

"Banshee!" Nobu'tan roared, magnifying his voice to echo across the gap between armies, "Come forward! I can sense the rot of your stinking husk from here!"

But Nobu'tan was disappointed to see a massive orc warrior take the lead instead of the undead witch. "I am Saurfang, High Overlord of the Horde, and I speak for this army!" the orc bellowed in responce.

The Blackrock orcs in his army muttered to themselves, and even Nobu'tan knew the name of Doomhammer's right hand. This was a living legend for the orcish people, and to face him in battle would be a devastating moral blow to his army.

"I'm going to speak with this orc," Nobu'tan said, stepping forward into the no man's land. Yaxley started to protest, but was silenced by the roar of approval from the orcs in the Dark Horde army.

Nobu'tan walked to the center of the crossroads, mirrored by the large orc on his wolf. "We know what brings each of our armies here," Nobu'tan opened, "the Scourge is the threat, and there is nothing to be gained by tearing each other apart at this time."

"I agree," Saurfang replied, eyeing Nobu'tan's form with a mixture of suspicion and disdain, "but we will not march side by side like allies in this…"

Tilting his head toward the south, Nobu'tan continued, "We won't have to worry about that for much longer; we will have a third army to act as buffer between our forces…"

Saurfang turned to look, and sniffed, "the Alliance…" he muttered, "it is a strange series of events that brings all of us here at the same time, for the same purpose."

"I propose an uneasy truce, until such time that the Scourge is forced from this place, and we return to our lands and people without bloodshed between us." Nobu'tan offered.

"War between Horde and Dark Horde will come…" Saurfang threatened.

"But not this day…" Nobu'tan countered.

The horns of the humans blew again, and their first lines came into view. Nobu'tan stood where he was, even as the mounted cavalry of Stormwind approached, parting for King Varian Wrynn. Nobu'tan spotted Draco in the armed vanguard of the king's bodyguards.

"I see both Hordes were faster to muster than we," Varian said, doing nothing to conceal his hatred of both factions as he approached alone. "And you have already decided that no bloodshed is needed between our armies while only the undead would profit from it…"

"Indeed, Majesty," Nobu'tan said, "We had decided that your army would be the best suited to prevent that animosity from spilling out, if you would march between us to keep Horde and Dark Horde from attacking each other."

Varian clearly did not like the position that that put his army, but he glanced back at Draco in the midst of his force, and seemed to understand that Nobu'tan would not attack his people while those allied with the Dark Horde were in it. "It is acceptable…" the King said, turning his horse back toward his lines, "To victory against the dead then…"

"To victory..." Nobu'tan and Saurfang replied.

Nobu'tan returned to his forces, and relayed his orders regarding the compromise, "We will not fight the Horde or the Alliance this day. The Scourge is the priority!" he shouted to his army, "War will rage, and let eh anger fester in your hearts for them as you will, but we will face them in battle another day!"

Both the armies of the Horde and Dark Horde turned, and as a united front the three armies of Azeroth marched to the north, allowing nothing to divert them from the ghastly towers of Naxxramus in the distance.

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Draco was certain now that his presence was purely to prevent conflict between the Alliance and the Dark Horde.

King Varian had shared nothing of their plans to him directly, outside of when the fleet moved out and their general route. Even still, Draco could guess a fair amount based on the allies that the Alliance force had brought with them. Many Ironforge Dwarves were scattered in the ranks of the humans of Stormwind, which meant that the King had plans to bombard the Black Citadel from afar.

Glancing to the lines of Nobu'tan army, Draco could tell by the packed Trebuchets that they were of one mind in this notion. At his side, Varian was also eying the covered wagons that were being pulled by ogre warriors, questions brimming in the man's mind but as of yet not given voice.

The Alliance had yet to experience the Dark Horde's superior siege engineering, unlike the other Horde, but Draco had a feeling that the Alliance's gunpowder arsenal would be capable of keeping up or outstripping even the most powerful of the Dark Horde's siege engines.

The real question was on their other side however, and this was what the King deemed worthy to ask aloud, "Just what is she planning I wonder?"

Marching at the head of the Horde assembly, Draco spotted the female undead that Varian was referring to, standing side-by-side with the leader of the orcs that had been confronting Nobu'tan when the Alliance force arrived at the crossroads several miles back.

Despite the feeling of strength that both leaders gave off, there was also an aura of extreme danger that the undead seemed to emit, which reminded Draco strongly of Voldemort. The gleaming red eyes were equally familiar, even as the one called the Banshee Queen gazed over the ranks of the three armies, almost calculating how many she could raise from the dead if they were to turn on each other right here and now.

"I do not know, your Majesty," Draco answered honestly, "but I do not trust her."

"That, my young friend," Varian said, equally on edge, "is the epitome of wisdom."

Ever nearer to the floating fortress they marched, and Draco grew uneasy at the sheer size of the structure. There was something downright evil inside, and its malevolence was radiating off the very stone surrounding it.

As they neared the shadow of the imposing dread citadel, Draco was curious to spot a massive white pavilion set up and waiting, the entrance guarded by a handful of knights bearing the same sun insignia. "The Argent Dawn certainly wasted no time in preparing a place from which to launch our attack," Varian muttered, gesturing for his army to halt just before the Paladin's pavilion.

From within, figures were emerging. Lord Maxwell, his eye patch unmistakable at this distance, waved to the approaching armies, seeming to beckon them to approach.

"Commander, order the men at ease, but do not set up camp. I suspect we will launch our attack soon," Varian said, turning to the knight commander of the Stormwind army, and gestured for Draco to follow as he went forward, along with his royal guard.

The Banshee Queen, as well as the orc and their guard approached as well, and on the other side Nobu'tan and his immediate circle followed suit.

"It is good that you all came with such haste," Lord Maxwell greeted as Draco and Varian entered the pavilion. A massive table was station in the center of the room, a detailed map of the immediate area strewn across it, and chairs a plenty for the various leaders to sit and discuss their combined strategy.

Draco sat between Varian and the nearest Dark Horde leader, which turned out to be Warchief Nek'rosh. Following the orc there were two Troll warlords, Nobu'tan himself, Voldemort, and Teg'Ramm who had to stand. After a suitable gap from the ogre mage, there was an undead human male that Draco did not know, followed by the old orc of the Horde, an Elven warrior with only one eye, and finally the Banshee Queen herself. Maxwell and his lead Paladins completed the circle between Horde and Alliance leaders.

"We thank you all for coming," Maxwell opened, gesturing at the map before them all, "as you can see, the entire area has been dominated by the Scourge war machine, and without your timely arrival this attack would not have been possible."

And glancing at the troop positioning on the map before them all, Draco could understand what the Paladin meant. If the figures and markers were still accurate, they told of a massive push being prepared by the undead forces, which could sweep through the whole region and out to any direction they chose.

"This is where we must make a united stand," Maxwell insisted, gesturing at the marker for the very pavilion in which they sat. "If we do not stop the Scourge here, they will sweep across all of Lordaeron, and push ever southward until we are all destroyed, or more allies from the west come to aid us."

"Then what is it that you propose, Paladin?" Nobu'tan asked, taking the initiative.

"A conjoined assault on the citadel, covering for a surgical strike team of your most elite warriors," Maxwell said, scanning the members gathered at the table, "I will lead a host of my Paladins into Naxxramus, in order to shatter the leadership of the fortress, and purify the taint of death within."

Draco eyed Nobu'tan carefully. He was certain that his friend wouldn't be too bold in supporting this measure, as the faction with the greatest strength on the field, but he couldn't trust the other man's emotions to not sway him in a surprising manner.

"The Horde is at your command, Lord Nobu'tan," Nek'rosh said, turning to the Stormreaver Chieftain, "If you so command it, we will burn this flying citadel to the ground."

"Bah, what good is the name of the Horde when you traitors use it so wantonly," the old orc huffed at the side of the Banshee Queen.

"High Overlord Saurfang…" Nobu'tan said calmly, leaning forward and planning his arms on the table, "high is the respect you hold in our Horde, but I will not tolerate insults at myself or my people. You may represent what you see as the future, but we hold fast to the traditions that brought the orcs to Azeroth. I am the apprentice of Gul'dan, and by birthright I command the Horde…"

"Gul'dan had no command of the Horde, only manipulation and his witchcraft to beguile it." Saurfang retorted, but both calmed themselves afterward. It was the strangest thing, as Draco had been holding his breath waiting for the confrontation to begin between the factions, especially with how the two Troll Warlords were eying the Elf Lord, but none made a move to draw weapons to do anything that would upset the council.

Varian caught his fidgeting, and nudged Draco with his shoulder. Pointed subtly with his chin, Varian directed Draco's gaze to the source of the restraint, and the warlock turned to see the host of Paladins around the inside of the tent, each steadfastly mumbling under their breath, casting spells of calm and peace as the guarded the tent.

"Your Majesty," a voice said, and Draco whipped back around to find another man leaning between himself and Varian. The spymaster of the Alliance, Mathias Shaw, was a figure of great respect in Stormwind as the leader of the secretive force under direct command of the king: SI:7. Draco had never met the man before, and from his skill and subtlety, there was a good reason why.

It impressed upon Draco that if Varian wanted him or his family dead, it would be a simple task for him to order it to be so.

"The Scourge force is started to stir, reacting to the armies' arrival." Shaw said, before stepping back to the edge of the tent and standing at attention.

Blaise likewise appeared, seeming to council Nobu'tan of the same, and the warlock stood. "There is little time for us to even begin to argue or power play over what we shall do, so I propose that we follow the council of the Argent Dawn, and take their strategy upon us. How many will invade the Citadel?" he asked.

"I would say no more than forty should attempt to gain entry," Maxwell stated, "more than that and we are sure to be noticed immediately."

"Then I urge the other leaders to choose their ten strongest warriors, who can bear to fight as one, and assemble them together with your chosen Paladins," Nobu'tan stated, taking charge of the meeting and looking between Saurfang, the Banshee Queen, and King Varain.

"I myself will go into the Citadel," Nobu'tan added, "and every one of my leaders here will fight for the honor to stand beside me, but what say you, Horde of Kalimdor and Alliance of Stormwind?"

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Sylvanas was subtly impressed by the young, demonic human's words. He was no coward, nor a fool, but while he had much yet to learn of statecraft and leadership he had a good head on his shoulders. A pity that she had sworn to end him and everything he hoped to create in the Eastern Kingdoms.

"The Forsaken will agree to the strategy of the Argent Dawn," she said, "And as representatives of the Horde in this conflict, we will send our ten, and fight alongside whoever stands against the Scourge."

The irritating Paladins and their magic made it impossible to provoke the others at the table, which disappointed the Dark Lady to no end. The infighting that ought to have been happening here would have been glorious, but alas peace and unity won out in the end.

"The Alliance agrees to the remarks of the Dark Horde, and the Argent Dawn," Varian said, the old lion closing his eyes. No doubt the King of Stormwind also sensed that his emotions were being repressed by the Light that they so adored.

"Then we are in agreement," Lord Maxwell said, standing. "Go and select your elite forces, and prepare whatever strategies you have to keep the Scourge armies occupied. May the Light embrace us all."

Thus dismissed, Sylvanas was the first to escape the pavilion, relishing the return of her hatred for the others at that table. They were bound by word of honor to fight, and they would do so, but on her terms.

"Bring up the demolishers Saurfang," she said, turning to the High Overlord, "the sooner that Naxxramus is brought down and destroyed, the better."

"Who shall we send into the Citadel to deal with their leadership?" Saurfang asked, and Sylvanas smiled, spotting Nathanos as he stalked off to relay their orders.

"Depending on what the others send, I suspect we will need at the least myself, you Saurfang, alongside Nathanos and Lor'Themar to enter the Citadel…"

The old orc frowned, "That's not a good strategy," he said, "to risk our leadership on such an important attack, leaving none of the command structure on the field."

"I doubt that it will come to that," the Banshee Queen replied, "and if it was even to go that far, our forces will know their orders in the meantime."

"Nevertheless, I want a larger group of elite warriors chosen, adjustable depending on what the others select for their strike teams…" Sylvanas stated, appeasing the old orc.

"I will select our best of the Kor'kron just in case we need fewer," Saurfang said as he walked away.

Sylvanas waited around the center of the three armies, nearer to Argent Dawn's pavilion, as the others made their selections and returned.

Lord Maxwell and his Paladins were first, and Sylvanas was not surprised to find a wide array, including former Knight of the Silver Hand Tirion Fordring. Sylvanas remembered the man from the Second War, and had wondered what had become of him. Arthas had gone out of his way to eliminate most of the Knights of the Silver Hand after he claimed his kingship in Lordaeron, but Tiron had never been found.

"Lord Fordring," she said, nodding her acknowledgement.

"Lady Windrunner," the Paladin said, solemn and quite grim. That surprised the Banshee. The Tirion that she remembered was stern, yet a quite caring man, but no more of the warmth escape his eyes. Something had happened to harden the man. While she was curious of it, Sylvanas had no more time to ask the man anything. The Alliance and Dark Horde started back. Varian himself came, with a single mage at his side, and a vanguard of royal knights forming his group.

But the most varied and strangest group was the Dark Horde representatives. Nobu'tan the Stormreaver warlock led them, and at his side were two Amani Trolls, each fingering their axes as they looked at Sylvanas. Towering over the lot was a single ogre magi, tattoos of flames stretching across the creature's marked body. Four lesser orc warlocks flanked around the demonic human, as well as the decorated Dark Horde Warchief, and finally the Death Knight that once was under Sylvanas' control.

The Dark Lady did not sense her servant around the rotten husk any longer, and she suspected heavily that she had been lost recently, judging from the hatred in the crimson eyes that glared at her.

Saurfang and his group approached, as well as Lor'themar and two Magisters, which agitated the two Amani trolls in the Dark Horde camp. Nathanos approached as well, with a pair of Forsaken at his side.

"I see you took my suggestion for the very best to heart," Maxwell said, looking at the many faction leaders that had stepped forward to attack the citadel. "We will need to push through the front ranks of the Scourge before we can reach their teleported. After that it's just holding that exit so that we can do what is needed within and scatter the leadership of the Scourge."

"We have no time to waste then," King Varian said, turning toward his army.

"Till we fight upon the field together," Nobu'tan said to the Paladins, nodding once toward Sylvanas, and the entire Dark Horde regiment withdrew to their lines. The Banshee Queen could see that their massive weapons were being prepared and assembled. While she was curious as to their working, she knew that the Dark Horde would turn on them before spilling their secret weapons and their design and operation.

"To battle…" Lord Maxwell said, and he, Tirion, and the Argent Dawn turned to face the slowly approaching hordes of the Scourge.

"Ready our troops," Sylvanas said to her leaders, "and wait for the signal to assault the keep…"

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Voldemort waited on his steed, clutching the new weapon he had had forged for him in the bowels of the new Temple of the Damned in the Swamps of Sorrows. Blightbringer it had been called, and infused with the jeweled scepter that held his soul, infusing the weapon with all his magical power and anger.

He was annoyed that none of his Death Knights would be joining in the assault on the Citadel itself, but still pleased that Nobu'tan had been concerned enough to bring him as his first choice for that battle.

Nobu'tan was mounted as well, the demonic horse breathing out small gusts of green fire as it paced back and force before the amassed warriors of the Dark Horde. "Rise up my brothers!" Nobu'tan said, raising his staff into the air, "We fight the very jaws of death itself this day! As vengeance against those that dares to come upon our own territory, and a stepping stone to taking back all that rightfully belongs to us!"

"Lok'tar Ogar!" Warchief Nek'rosh shouted, with the response deafening to those with mortal ears.

"Trebuchets at the ready!" Nobu'tan shouted, and the goblin engineers atop the massive siege weapons waved colored flags in the air, signaling that they heard the command and were prepared.

Turning to face the approaching tide of death, Nobu'tan shot sparks into the air with his magic, "Open Fire!"

With a resounding snap, the trio of massive weapons launched their throwing arms upward, hurling massive boulders into the ranks of the dead. One of them even attained a small spin, and instead of crashing flat into the opposing force, rolled forward several times, crushing a sizeable number of skeletons and ghouls.

Down the line, the Alliance and Horde forces were also bombarding the far lines of the undead. The Horde had strange catapults that actually launched the projectiles forward rather than upward, but different of all was the Alliance. Dwarves were loading and firing strange cannons into the air, where the projectiles exploded like spells when they landed deep in the ranks of the dead, showing the ones around them with flesh and bone fragments.

"Wolf riders and Ogre warriors, advance!" Nobu'tan shouted, signaling for the initial rush on the front lines. With a bellowing cry, the most rowdy of the orc warriors launched into action, their massive wolf mounts leaping forward, followed closely by the lumbering behemoths. The wolves tore into the front lines, opening spaces for the ogres to widen with their massive weapons and overreaching swings.

"Forward Dark Horde, for blood and honor!" Nobu'tan cried, charging himself into the fray with the rest of the army at his back. Voldemort was eager to test his new weapon in battle, and spurred the Deathcharger into battle, signaling the rest of his force to follow.

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Varian spotted the moment that Dark Horde surged into battle.

"Their bloodlust knows no restraint does it?" he said aloud, glancing at Malfoy, who smirked. "But I suppose we have little choice but to follow if we're to hold the line…"

Varian raised Shalamayne high, "Glory to the Alliance, charge!" he cried, and the cavalry led the way into battle, footmen and their allies following in orderly rank and file, shields high and spears forward.

The Argent Dawn was among their ranks, and the Paladins' magical aura was swelling in strength as they marched on their enemies.

Lord Tirion Fordring was something of a legend in Stormwind, and when the Knight of the Silver Hand raised his maul to the sky, the power of the Light seemed to flood the area around him. "Put your faith in the Light!" the Paladin cried, and Varian felt his resolve steel itself anew.

They fell upon the Scourge with the fervor of divine fury. "For Azeroth!" Varian shouted, cleaving a leaping ghoul in two with his Elven weapon.

It seemed that the Dark Horde had held a better strategy however, as the Alliance push was far more difficult, with massive abominations moving to counter the charge of their knights. Or so he thought, moments before the hailstorm of ice and fire manifested itself from the rear lines. The gouts of flame and massive shards of ice slammed into the ranks ahead, clearing the way for the knights and giving them the needed room for a second charging into the next rank of stinking dead.

"Alliance! Forward!" cried a female voice of the rear, and Varian smiled. Jaina Proudmoore never ceased to amaze, teleporting another battalion of warriors from Theramore all the way here at the last moment.

The tide changed just as the Sorceress took to the field. Great swells of ice and flame rose up to answer the death magic of the Scourge necromancers, and soon enough Jaina had reached the protective ring around Varian and Draco. "Sorry I'm late," she said, only half apologetically.

"You appearance was most timely," Varian confessed, stabbing another wretched undead as it approached, "with me, then…" the King said, and they turned their full fury on the undead before them. Magic washed from both Malfoy and Lady Proudmoore, almost as if the two burned with the same inner fire fort vengeance against the dead.

Varian had heard that someone precious to the young nobleman had died in the siege at Stormwind, but the proof was here now, as the man was focused firmly on slaughtering every undead that crossed his path. He was even uncaring about revealing the fact that he was indeed a warlock, shadow magic wrecking havoc among their enemies as he pressed forward, even surpassing the fury of Varian's blade.

"What madness drives him now?" Jaina asked during a brief respite, where Draco had forcefully pushed on ahead.

"His fiancé was killed during the assault of Stormwind…" Varian admitted, and from all appearances Lady Proudmoore's heart wept for the young man from how she looked at him. Varian blinked, was there something else in the young woman's eyes however?

Whatever it was, it was gone in a flash, replaced by an anger that Varian did know think it was possible for the gentle woman to possess, "Then we shall avenge her death…" she said bitterly, rising to her full height and holding arms wide.

Arcane magic flowed liberally from the young woman, forming elementals and orbs of frozen power, before they surged in all redirections, flooding over the undead before them and crashing into their vile machines seeking to spread the blight into the ranks of the living.

Striding forward, her cloak billowing behind her, Jaina seemed to become oblivious to her allies around her, her hatred focused solely upon the ranks of Scourge before her. "You have provoked the wrath of the Daughter of the Sea!" she cried, summoning a massive wave of water, which crested and surged forward over their enemies, scooping up and dashing many of the undead away from them.

They had an opening to attack once more, and Varian took up Shalamayne, the great sword splitting into two blades with a sharp twist of his hands. "For vengeance!" he cried, sprinting for the first enemy he spotted.

Lo'Gosh had awoken once more.

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Lor'themar could see the Scourge forces starting to fall back as the Alliance and Dark Horde broke through the front lines.

For their part, Saurfang had led a charge of the principle Horde warriors, leaving Sylvanas and Lor'themar to support with a hailstorm of arrows, as well as their demolishers devastating the rear lines of the Scourge.

Despite this straightforward and strong strategy however, the other armies were pulling away, and Lor'themar knew that they needed to press the attack to keep the line and prevent the Scourge from getting behind any of their temporary allies.

"Shaman! Do it!" the Banshee Queen cried, turning to face the lightning hurling spell casters.

The trio nodded in response, before raising their arms over their heads, "Storm, Earth, and Fire! Heed our call!" they cried.

Lor'themar felt the primal rage fill him, along with all of their ranged forces, and they pressed the attack, arrows starting to blacken the sky as they renewed their bombardment of the enemy force.

Magisters hurled their spells into the fray, setting multiple groups of the dead aflame, and slowly they started to close the gap that had opened between them and the Alliance lines. Their orc and tauren shock troops were already reaching the final line of undead that blocked reunifying their forces, just as the three armies started to converge on the located directly under the massive Black Citadel.

A small raised structure was there, with a glowing pedestal that clearly was their entry point into the hovering fortress. Saurfang led the charge, his axe cleaving massive swaths of dead before him. The Blood Elf Regent Lord understood why the orcs claimed that this old Blackrock was the greatest of their race, and while he could not deny the fact that Saurfang was inspiring to watch, he had reservations on the strength that the older than average orc could possibly have left in him.

The three armies met once more at the dais, and pulled up their siege equipment, preparing a strong defense of the platform.

"Now is the time for the most dangerous part of this battle," Lord Maxwell said, the Paladin lifting his gaze up to the floating fortress directly above them. "I do not know what horrors we will face in those halls, nor how many of us will survive, but if we are to defeat the Scourge here, the Lich Lord Kel'Thuzad must be defeated."

The various preselected parties stood forward, and Lor'themar was surprised to see Lady Proudmoore taking a position once held in the Alliance ranks by one of their foot soldiers. The SI:7 leader, Mathias Shaw, also stood forward, waiting on his King's orders to advance.

Quickly, the lesser commander and their lieutenants rushed about, organizing the defense of the platform, and informed their leaders that they would hold out as long as they could.

"Now is the hour!" Maxwell said, raising his warhammer, "We four armies will unite and drive the scourge from these lands. Whatever ill will you hold for each other must be put aside in this fight. We will tolerate no infighting once we enter those unhallowed halls. If you think you cannot do this, step back and be replaced now!"

Not a soul moved to do so, all steeling their gaze back at the Paladin. "Azeroth onward!" Maxwell shouted, his Paladins following him into the mystical field that transported them upward into the Black Citadel.

The Warchief of the Dark Horde roared his approval, and their ragtag group of warriors followed suit, spilling swiftly into he vacuum left by the Argent Dawn. The Alliance followed, without a war cry or other fanfare to herald their entry.

"Into the thick of it, then," Saurfang said, and Sylvanas exchanged a glance with Lor'themar. "For the end of their threat," the Blood Elf said, following after the High Overlord, and entering the field. The sensation was unpleasant, but he arrived unharmed at the large antechamber of the citadel, where the others all waited for the last of their warriors to appear.

"We have four directions to choose from, and I doubt that it would be safe to split up in this place," Tirion Fordring said, the Knight of the Silver Hand seeming to glow with holy power as he looked about them.

"The scent of undeath is revolting," Lady Liadrin said, appearing beside Lor'themar. The Blood Knight Matriarch was correct in her observation, as even the regent lord felt the stench of the dead and dying on the air around them.

"Then, if it matters not where we go, I suggest we choose a path and follow it swiftly," the Stormreaver Chieftain, Nobu'tan, said.

As one they turned to the nearest archway on the outer wall, flanked by sculptures of rearing spiders, and marched forward, ever vigilant of the chance of ambush in this dreadful place.

All his years fighting the Amani, and later the undead Scourge, and Lor'themar had never felt as unsafe as he did walking these vile halls in the center of their Citadel.