Apologies for the lack of a chapter 2 weeks ago, i was in the midst of packing and preparing to move home as i graduated from college (BA in English) and that took priority. However, unlike how some people have incorrectly assumed, the story is nowhere near abandoned... plenty of chapters that are ready to go, or at least need another editing run-through to be ready to post. With that info out of the way, onward with the next chapter. Enjoy ~F
Chapter 108
Earth and Sky
Velen paused before setting foot in the Blasted Lands. It was in part the fact that the surge of Fel energy ahead of him forced the Prophet of the Light to hesitate, but far greater was the pulse of Light from behind him. Turning to the north, Velen furrowed his brow. The magic originated from the Burning Steppes, but that made no sense. The Dark Horde's main bastion was there, and they had no paladins or clerics among their forces. The hex priests and shadow users of the Amani trolls did not count in his eyes.
But nevertheless, the glaring power of the Light sat over the region, defying his expectations and understanding. "Curious…" he said, adding another location that he needed to visit in due time.
They were due to meet Lady Proudmoore outside the Dark Portal soon, and Velen settled in the sadle of his Elekk mount, gesturing for the knot of Vindicators to proceed into the devastated lands that surrounded the portal.
By the time they reached the crater, the power of the Fel had risen to be a physical force; permeating the air and making Velen feel slightly off. The corruption of the Fel was a terrible thing, and the Prophet hoped in time to eventually heal this land, and restore it to the lush marshland that it had once been.
A great many forces were already gathered around the portal itself, Alliance, Horde, and Dark Horde, with their own commanders and soldiers guarding this side of the portal from any attempt from beyond to push through once more.
Spotting Lady Proudmoore near the Alliance commanders, Velen approached and dismounted.
"Hail Prophet," the Alliance commander said, saluting before taking his leave, permitting the Sorceress and the leader of the Draenei to speak in private.
"I see that unity on this side of the portal is well in hand," Velen commented, looking across at the races of the other two factions. Some of the Dark Horde's forces were among the strangest things he had ever seen.
"Yes, it is even more of an effort on the far side, with the Legion constantly trying to reassert their control of the portal, but we will have little problem navigating around them and locating the outpost of the Dark Horde." Jaina said, stepping toward the shimmering portal.
The Vindicators seemed nervous about returning to Outland with the Prophet, but Velen waved a hand, silencing any complaint well before it started, and followed the young human female into the shimmering green light.
The Fel sent shudders through his body as he passed through the gateway, but there was no hindrance in the Draenei passing through. The warriors of the three factions stood united upon the great stair of destiny, holding out as the demons charged time and again at their position.
Velen worried slightly as the Pit Commander's eyes landed on him specifically, and raised his arms to call forth a wave of infernals to bombard the defenders. The Prophet forced himself to turn away, even though he desired to command his Vindicators to take the demon's head, but they were not here for that. It was too soon for the Draenei to take the offensive on the Legion, although the time drew near.
Lady Proudmoore released a stream of arcane wisps into the air, which scattered in many directions and soared out to explore where the Dark Horde's holding in the peninsula were. "We'll find them in short order Prophet," she said cheerfully.
Within moments some of the wisps returned, and Jaina nodded to herself, "They're not far, but we'll need gryphons to reach there," she informed Velen, beckoning the flight master and several of the Alliance's beasts toward them.
Soon enough they were soaring through the strange skies of Outland, heading for the south, beyond the Alliance fortification of Honor Hold. Velen had never permitted the Draenei from trying to make contact with the members of the Alliance expedition, sensing that it was unsafe with the Horde's remnants pillaging the region and killing any Draenei that they came across.
However, as they veered toward the ruined Bleed Hollow fortress, Velen felt a brief flash of hesitation. The Fel Orcs would not take too well to his appearance, but if any of the Dark Horde were present there may be some conflict of interest.
Nevertheless, the gryphon was not willing to divert from its destination, and landed with a clatter in the center of the fortress, even as Fel Orcs and other beings turned to see their new visitors. "Draenei!" one of the red beasts shouted, and weapons were drawn. But before any dared advance on the Alliance contingent, a pair of goblins and a Forest troll approached.
"Lady Proudmoore," one of the goblins said, "What brings you to our fortress?"
"We're here to visit with Nobu'tan, both myself and the Prophet Velen." Jaina explained.
"Da Grand Warlock be not here, Lady Sorceress," the troll said, glancing perceptively over the group of Draenei, "Dey be busy wit an operation."
"Then we will wait for him to return," Velen said, stepping forward. The goblins looked around at the group of Fel Orcs and their drawn weapons. "You'd better wait inside the Great Hall then. I don't like the looks of our allies when it comes to your strange folk."
"Gladly," Velen agreed, following the trio of Dark Horde leaders as they escorted them to the main structure of the encampment.
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Me'dan sighed as he looked out the window onto the streets of Theramore.
Despite the fact that he enjoyed being here, and that his grandmother, the Magus Aegwynn, did everything in her power to make him comfortable, he was still anxious. For so long he had wondered where he had come from, and who his parents were, only for all the information to be dumped on his all at once, and those who were in the know to vanish out of his life as quickly as they entered.
He wanted to know what was going on, where his mother was and what she was up to, but he was more or less trapped here, in the safety of his grandmother's care in one of the most protected areas of the world.
Aegwynn also wasn't exactly the motherly sort. She was kind, to be sure, but there was a hardness there that brokered no disagreement upon anything she set her mind toward. Additionally, she was tutoring him in the basics of the Arcane, which was taxing at the best of times and downright grueling the rest.
There was also a lot of information that the old woman knew that clearly she was keeping from him. Foremost was the strange other figure that had come to rescue him from the grasp of Cho'Gall and the Old God: Nobu'tan, some figure from his mother's past who seemed very familiar with everything that was going on. Me'dan wanted to know this person, but Aegwynn wouldn't mention anything about the man when Me'dan asked.
Even Lady Proudmoore wasn't around to talk to. She had been more than busy with something to do with events on the other side of the world, which had all but stranded the young part-orc in her city. Slowly, Me'dan had withdrawn, ceasing to go out and interact with those in the city, and keeping himself to the high tower room he had been given to use while staying at Theramore.
As he sat, scratching out notes on an arcane tome that he had to study for his grandmother, the door opened, and Me'dan turned to see Aegwynn standing there, looking concerned at him. "I know you're not happy here," she said tiredly, entering and shutting the door behind her.
"No, I am happy," Me'dan tried to say, but the old woman shook her head.
"You're not," She overrode him, "I know that you feel imprisoned here, out of touch from those who'll tell you what is happening, and answer the burning questions that you have."
Me'dan lowered his head. He knew that it came across as ungrateful for all that they had done for him, protecting him here from the cultists of the Twilight Hammer, which they all presumed were still after him for their mad schemes.
"But you deserve to have something to look forward to, and I think I've come up with an idea that you'll enjoy." Aegwynn said, smirking secretively, "How far have you progressed on your portal magic?"
"Far enough," Me'dan replied, growing excited.
"Enough to open a portal to a location you've never been to, with only the memory of another to guide you?" Aegwynn countered.
Me'dan hesitated. There were terrible consequences for using portal magic without a clear idea of where you wanted to go. But in this, he felt a growing confidence. His grandmother would not even suggest it unless she thought he was ready, "I can do it." He said, allowing his resolve to settle.
Aegwynn nodded, stepping forward and placing her hand on the young part-orc's head, covering his right eye with her palm. She closed her own eyes, and with a small shudder, Me'dan felt himself seeing the location that she wanted him to go. A deep canyon filled with structures. It was a large city, far bigger than anything Me'dan had ever been to before.
Then there was a chamber within one of those large buildings, filled with a roaring fire, and fluttering banners of red with a strange black symbol upon them. "Can you open a portal there?" Aegwynn said, and Me'dan nodded. He could do it, with such a clear visualization of where she wanted to be it would be easy.
Allowing the Arcane to build up inside him, Me'dan fixated on the image in his mind, carefully tearing open the fabric of space and connecting the two distant locations. Soon, a shimmering blue portal rippled into existence, and Aegwynn smiled in pride. "Well done," she said, before stepping through the portal without another word.
Me'dan paused for a split second, before hopping into the rift behind his grandmother. A flash of light, and Me'dan blinked at the change of lighting. The fire blazed in the far corner of the rounded chamber, and figures shifted at their sudden appearance.
"Lady Aegwynn, what brings you to Orgrimmar?" a voice rumbled from a high seat cushioned with animal fur.
Me'dan looked up at the figure as he stood and stepped forward, and widened his eyes as the full-blooded orc with bright blue eyes and dark hair.
"A personal reason, Warchief," Aegwynn said, stepping aside to place a clear line between Me'dan and the large orc, "This is my grandson, the child of Garona Halforcen and Medievh. Me'dan, this is Thrall, the Warchief of the Horde, and leader of the orcs in Azeroth."
If the orc was expecting something, the surprise in his eyes hinted that Me'dan's presence was not it. "You are the son of the Guardian?" Thrall asked, stepping closer.
Me'dan had to crane his neck slightly to keep his focus on the blue eyes of the orc Warchief, "So I've been told, sir…" he replied, "but I admit I know very little about my parents."
"I had hopes that Me'dan could spend some time here, Warchief, and learn something about his orcish heritage, and the powers of the shaman." Aegwynn said, "It is unfair to keep him cooped up in Theramore while his mother and Lady Jaina are dealing with crises elsewhere."
Me'dan nearly blurted out a complaint against the statement, but a humming grunt from the Warchief silenced any contradiction. "It wouldn't be any trouble at all, Magna, for us to watch over him, and see about his talent for conversing with the elements, but there may be unforeseen events happening soon that I cannot have him underfoot for."
"You're mages are always welcome to come to Theramore and notify me if he needs to return," Aegwynn said, smirking at Me'dan, "but I think you'll be pleasantly surprised at how useful and eager to help young Me'dan is."
"We seem to be deciding a lot for you, young one," Thrall said, turning to face Me'dan, "but what is it that you desire?"
Me'dan hesitated. It was not often that others asked what he wanted, and he had to think on it a moment. The decision came rather quickly, "I want to stay, as long as you'll have me, Warchief," he said boldly.
"Then so be it," Thrall replied, clapping the young part-orc on the shoulder, "You will remain with us here, in Grommash Hold, during your stay, and we will see what you are capable of."
The Warchief turned away to make the arrangements, and Me'dan turned to his grandmother, who was smiling at the surprise and awe on his face. "Do as you are told, without question here," she informed him, "and listen to Thrall. He is both wise and fair, as far as orcs go, and Lady Jaina trusts him with her life."
"I will," Me'dan replied.
"If you'd kindly make a portal home for me, I will leave you to get settled here," Aegwynn requested, and Me'dan was more than willing to oblige.
As soon as she left, Me'dan glanced around in awe at all the people within the large chamber. At least half a dozen guards were stationed around the room, and various other advisors and councilors of multiple races. Orcs were most dominant, but there were a fair number of Jungle Trolls, some Tauren, Undead, and even Elves in their company.
It was such an interesting collection of beings, and Me'dan was excited to get more familiar with each and every race in this Horde.
"Come, young Me'dan," Thrall said, beckoning him closer to the fur-covered throne, "Let me introduce you to some of the other leaders of Orgrimmar, and those who'll be in charge of looking out for you."
Eagerly, Me'dan followed the Warchief toward the start of what he hoped would be a great adventure.
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Garona nimbly dodged around the back of another Shattered Hand Fel orc, stabbing the being in the kidney, before spinning away from the clumsy attack of another one of the warriors.
With all the power that multiple doses of Fel blood seemed to give the orcs, it did little for their intelligence and reflexes. Kargath Bladefist had not stepped up the training of his clan, let alone the rest of this Fel Horde, and the lack of discipline showed.
Both she and Tenebrous, the human warlock and rogue that hid himself as an orc, carved through the ranks of orcs on the upper levels of the ramparts, sparing those who were wise enough to step aside. Most of these were from the well informed Bleeding Hollow Clan, and some Bonechewers that took the lead of the others, but every Shattered Hand, and some Shadowmoon orcs, were not as willing to stand down.
The Feltalon Veela were helpful as well, and while Garona had never witnessed such creatures as the shrieking, bird-like women, she appreciated their skill in battle and their tactic of hit-and-run to cause diversions for the two assassins to weave closer to the other leaders on the walls on the citadel.
As soon as they reached a split in the ramparts, the pair paused. To their left, an open platform held a handful of guards, watching over a large drake, although it was quite unlike any dragon that Garona had ever seen before. The shimmering skin seemed to have no scales whatsoever, and the glowing light around seemed to reflect the raw Nether sky above them.
Meanwhile, to their right, through an archway clogged with guards was a massive demon, the smirking maw filled with flames. "Demon over dragon?" she asked, already guessing the Legion-hating human's answer.
They started to the right. The secretive human quickly eviscerated the guards blocking his way, before releasing his own power over the Fel and sheathing his daggers in green flames. Garona had never seen any warlock like this man, and she had to admit that the merging of skills impressed her.
"You dare challenge me?!" the demon shouted, running forward to engage Tenebrous head on, even as Garona circled around behind the horse-hoofed demon as it clattered across the stone.
More of the winged women flew down from the sky, joining the battle and attacking the demon with both Fel magic and talons. This seemed only to enrage the towering creature however, and he cast a swift spell, summoning a pair of Felhunters in a flash, "Achor-she-ki! Feast my pets! Eat your fill!"
Garona quickly dispatched one of the pair of hounds as it set upon her, stabbing downward into its skull between its feelers, and the skybound creatures distracted the other, even as Tenebrous continued to battle the demon head on.
Unfortunately, it seemed that the Fel-touched assassin had bitted off more than he could chew by attacking the demon directly, even as the demon cast a curse at the human, "A-Kreesh!" it shouted, and with a undignified yelp Tenebrous was sent flying into the air, tethered by a beam of dark magic.
The demon toyed with his prey for a time, laughing harshly, and Garona leapt into action. Slashing the back of the left knee, she broke the demon's concentration, and Tenebrous fell, righting himself and landing in a roll before jumping back into the fight. "Garona!" he shouted, and she reacted, leapting toward him, and bouncing off the offered shoulder to gain even more height.
Daggers flashed as the half-orc sank here weapons into either side of the grotesque demon's head, her body weight dragging him down within range of her partner. Tenebrous added his weapons to the mixture, and with a bellowing grumble, the demon gurgled its last words.
"It is… not over." The demon said, before dropping heavily to the stones and remaining still.
The Veela took to the air once more, but a bon e-shaking roar heralded that the drake had taken flight. A Fel orc sat atride the beast as it pursued the Stormreaver allies around the air, snapping at them and breathing flames as the smaller creatures evaded its attacks.
"We need to hurry, and clear the rest of the rampart so that our allies can safely land." Tenebrous said, turning back to the fork.
"If we get the drake on the ground, we can damage its wings to prevent it from taking off again." Garona said, thinking swiftly as to how to deal with their final foe.
"There is also the rider to be concerned about." The human added.
"We'll deal with him when he's within range of my daggers," Garona replied, flicking green demon blood from one of them."
Quickly they retraced their steps, and went to the left path. Only a small handful of guards remained, and they swiftly fell to the pair of assassins, clearing the way to what seemed like a small landing area and nest for the drake.
The Veela passed overhead again, and the strange drake swooped low, even as it the rider leapt from its back, landing heavily and drawing a large two-handed sword, "You have faced many challenges, pity they were all in vain." The orc taunted, righting himself and drawing the weapon, "Soon your people will kneel to my lord!"
Garona huffed to herself, what a fool this Fel orc was, abandoning his greatest asset to fight them at a massive disadvantage. They would kill him quickly and focus their attention on bringing down his mount soon afterward.
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Sylvanas detested Silverpine Forest greatly. The Forsaken had always had problems with these woods, and the dangers that lurked there. Their holdings here were weak, and only the fact that they had held stronger positions in Hillsbrad had permitted the laxness in their guard. But things had changed when she started receiving reports of increased aggression from the wild worgen of the region.
The wolf-men, some abomination created by a rogue member of the Kirin Tor that had not taken shelter in their ruined city after the demons destroyed it, had somehow started to organize themselves, defying the well-understood notion that they were just mindless beasts, and were starting to threaten the outpost at the Sepulcher.
While Sylvanas knew the rest of the Horde's eyes were elsewhere, dealing with who-knew-what beyond the Dark Portal far to the south, it still irritated her that she could not send out more adventurers and those of other races to deal with this problem. It would have prevented her from coming to this place and dealing with the threat personally, but such was the needs of the Forsaken, and she would not abandon her people while they still suffered under the curse of undeath.
Taking as large an army as she dared, she had marched quickly to the southernmost regions of the forest, following the old road that the Forsaken had painstakingly maintained. Now that she arrived at the final crossroads however, she was not sure if she wished to proceed any farther.
To their left was the curving of the road that led to Hillsbrad, with the small fork that went further south to the Greymane Wall. That offshoot was unused and all but grown over by the vegetation of the dark forest, but it was the right path that held her gaze.
This chose also forked after a small jaunt, the lower path heading into the nearly ruined Pyrewood Village, and the other circling up the rise to the abandoned Shadowfang Keep. Last she had heard of this place was that the mad wizard had holed himself up in those halls, keeping the most powerful of his worgen nearby to protect him as he continued his spells and research.
But apparently something as of late had changed. For one thing, there were many more worgen, in both human and feral forms, and while the fled at the sight of her army, their numbers still gave the Banshee Queen pause.
Secondly were the banners. In various locations on both keep and village, cloth emblems were fluttering in the sea breeze, showing a grey field with a snarling maw of fangs. The worgen had united as a collective, and that made Sylvanas ask one important question: Who was their leader?"
There had been a time, long ago, when the beasts had been put to use by the Forsaken, driving out the Scarlet Crusade from this forest, as well as many more of the Scourge that had infested the trees. But from that time to now, she had never thought that they stood a chance at becoming a threat in and of themselves to her people.
Apparently she had been mistaken, and now had to pay the price to rectify the error of allowing the beasts to live and breed.
"Give the order," she commanded of the marshal of her Dreadguards, and the shrill Forsaken horn rang out.
The undead warriors charged forward, set upon cleansing this village of all that lived. Sylvanas expected a very bloody battle, as the worgen had brute strength on their side, and more numbers than she had initially expected, but as her warriors approached the village entrance, she widened her eyes as a shimmering barrier rippled when the undead passed through it.
Each and every one of the undead that entered the barrier instantly fell to the ground, their bodies quickly dissolving into ash. There was some kind of magic protecting the worgen, and it was something that Sylvanas had never seen before. If they had had this type of magic before the third war, the Scourge would have never succeeded in their designs.
"Who dares accost the village of the Grimfang Pack?" yelled a voice down from the battlements of Shadowfang Keep.
The Banshee Queen turned to look up the ridge, and easily spotted a host of men on the battlements, and their massive leader in wolf form, but still able to speak quite clearly. The mangy fur was silvery-grey, tinted with what was clearly a sickening Fel green. He wore a necklace of bones about his neck, as well as loose fitting clothing. Rather than respond, Sylvanas took her own bow from behind her shoulder and notched an arrow.
"You're weapons have little use against us here," the worgen shouted, his voice easily carrying over the distance, "We have the protection of Lord Nobu'tan of the Dark Horde, and we do not tolerate anything living or dead to enter our hunting grounds!"
Sylvanas paused, scowling at the mention of the hated name. The Dark Horde had circled around Hillsbrad altogether, escaping the siege and continuing their push toward the Undercity. Despite the warning, she fired her black arrow at the wolf regardless, and frowned as it too was burned to ashes well before reaching the neck of her target.
"Be gone, or we will come face you in battle personally!" the leader howled in reply, "The Pack of Fenrir Greyback knows no fear, and with the gift of the Fel at our call there is no equal to our might beneath these trees!" he boasted, extending a claw and having it burst into Fel flame as proof.
Sylvanas smirked. Clearly there were things that could pierce their precious defenses if they were threatening counter attack. The black smoke of her arrow had wafted through the barrier after the projectile was destroyed after all. They had some manner of attacking, and that would buy them time to bring down the shield.
Turning to Nathanos, her champion, she spoke quickly and quietly, "bring up the blight throwers, bombard the top of their precious shield so that the plague falls down over them. Send mages and warlocks to find a way to destroy that shield, and prepare our forces to change once the shield falls."
"Yes, my Lady," Nathanos replied, departing to carry out her commands swiftly.
Even as the enemy leader continued to rant and cluster, the Banshee Queen was already calculating her strategy. If they used the superior range of their siege weapons, they could easily remain here until the foolish dogs chose to leave their protections and fight them directly.
And once they did so, then the Forsaken held the advantage. She smirked as the blight launchers rolled into position, all the way back on the main road, and started to fire. The canisters flew over their heads and impacted the shield heavily. The brilliant blue dome shimmered as it destroyed the canisters, but the blight wafted through regardless, causing the worgen to scatter into the Keep.
"Keep up the bombardment, I don't want to see another snout unless they're attack us directly," Sylvanas ordered, turning her warhorse away to put space between herself and the Keep. The casters came forward, channeling their magic to probe the shield as it flashed and sparked over and over, trying to find some manner of weakness in it.
Dismounting her steed, Sylvanas relaxed and waited. Knowing that one of three things was to happen eventually. Either the worgen would attack, and her frontline Death Guard would swiftly slaughter them, the plague would seep into the internal parts of the Keep and kill all those trapped within, or her casters would break the shield and they could attack directly.
It was almost sad, in a way, how the mongrels would struggle against the inevitability of their demise. The stillness of the Keep was strange though. Even as the catapults continued to bombard the shield, showering the green gas of the blight over the walls until it flowed in small rivers, nothing moved in the fortress.
Something was wrong. Sylvanas knew that it was most unlikely that they had accepted their fate and just waited for the slow tortuous death of the plague. "I want that shield destroyed," she ordered, stepping forward and drawing her bow once more. It still took a significant amount of time to shatter the strange Dark Horde shield. Once it shattered, the plague throwers stopped firing, and Sylvanas took a group of her dark rangers and entered the Keep.
As she suspected, there were no bodies lying in the corridors of the Keep, and by the time they reached the interior halls, Sylvanas was starting to grow angered. A letter was left on the head table of the banquest hall, and Sylvanas snatched it up, curious as the strange words swam in her vision until they were legible.
'To the Banshee Queen
You may be wondering how it is possible for us to so thoroughly escape your wrath, and where it was that our pack has retreated to. Know that we had already prepared for your coming long ago, and our fallback position is dangerously closer to where you think you are so safe and protected from the world.
Our vengeance is coming, and you will never know where or when it will strike. Silverpine Forest is ours now, and there is nothing your rotting hordes has do to stop us. We will hunt every Forsaken down that we find, until you learn to leave our forest alone.
Fenrir Greyback, lord of the Grimfang Pack.
P.S. you may want to run'
Widening her eyes at the last sentence, Sylvanas turned and fled, even before the magical explosives shimmered into sight all over the room. Her dark rangers fled behind her, and Sylvanas had cleared the bridge to Shadowfang Keep just as they went off.
The entire stone edifice was consumed in a fiery green storm, incinerating some of her loyal rangers, and throwing debris in all directions. Turning to gaze at the towering inferno, the Banshee Queen felt her rage stirring once more. They defied her, humiliated her, and still they were free of her wrath.
"I want every Forsaken on high alert in this forest." She ordered those around her, "every worgen is to be killed on sight, skinned and their pelts sent to the Undercity. I want my throne covered with the fur of this Fenrir Greyback, and every one of his precious Pack destroyed utterly!"
The nearest Forsaken saluted as she passed through them, even as the army prepared to return to the Undercity. She had planning to do about their defenses for when these beasts tried to assault her city and kill all her plans for revenge.
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Lucius smirked as the portal closed. Fenrir Greyback had a long streak of independence, which had worked surprisingly well for Lord Nobu'tan. Lucius had questioned the Grand Warlock when he had released the Fel werewolves into Hillsbrad and Silverpine, but the younger man had waved him off.
"Greyback knows we're here for him when he needs aid, and has the means to contact us." Nobu'tan had said, "Let him have his fun, when the war reaches his position, he will inform us."
That had been nearly two years prior, and they had heard nothing from the dangerous man. It had come as some manner of surprise then, when the werewolf had rushed into Lucius study in Blackrock, seeking aid to transport his massive pack from one side of the forest to the other, in order to escape the dangers of the Banshee Queen.
Lucius agreed, only because of their mutual enemy in the Forsaken leader, and had permitted the pack to use their primary fortress as a staging ground for the transfer. Apparently their secondary keep was being attacked by the Banshee herself, and they were withdrawing their forces from the area of the region back to their main fortress, located on an isle dangerously close to the Undercity.
It was risky, and so very much like Fenrir to do, that Lucius had only laughed at the plan, and suggested the use of the Fidelius charm to protect their island and its numerous residents.
Additionally, Lucius made certain to send some peons through with guards to oversee repairing whatever fortification they had claimed as their own. If it was near to the Forsaken's capital city, then it likely was a ruin at best. Lucius did not trust that Greyback cared enough to tend to the location in which his pack stayed, and now that he had returned to the fold, it was up to Lucius to make sure that their new forward outpost was taken care of.
Tapping the end on his quill against his desk, Lucius thought hard of how best to phrase the events that had occurred for Lord Nobu'tan to read upon his return. The Pureblood lord knew that his young friend would want to spend a great deal of time in this new land beyond the portal, because of the attachment to the memory of those who raised him.
However, his duty to the living dwarfed his honoring the dead, and Lucius would strive to remind their leader of this fact. He had the manpower and the resources to send all manner of beings out to do his bidding, and yet he overtaxed himself. It was both an admirable and terrible trait for a leader.
But it did not matter, Lucius was still here to assist where Nobu'tan lacked, and in time the young man would mature and learn to put himself aside for those he had sworn to protect and lead. Lucius would make sure that he learned.
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Teg'ramm roared as he physically threw the Fel orc warlock across the small chamber. The battle had raged between the two Fel users, but Teg'Ramm had already encountered all of the tricks and strategies that his opponent tried to throw at him.
Dark voids were cleverly disrupted by Fel spikes rupturing through the stone of the citadel, where bolts of shadow were absorbed or blocked outright with walls of Fel flame.
Meanwhile, the Ogre Mage took full advantage of his brute strength and raw connection to the Fel in his own body, closing the distance between himself and the old orc time and again, wielding his staff more like a club than an implement of focus, and cracking bones, rupturing organs, and sending the orcs corrupted blood splattering across the room.
Even as the warlock lay, broken against the far door, he was laughing pitifully. "What… a shame…" he muttered, closing his eyes and breathing shallowly. Teg'Ramm breathed slowly, letting the last vestiges of his empowered Fel form dissolve away. If the mad old thing survived, it would be up to Nobu'tan what to do with him.
A wave of Fel infused power cause the far door to spring open, and Teg'Ramm led the way onward, the rest of his force gingerly avoiding the soon-to-be corpse of the warlock.
The antechamber beyond was devoid of all life, the Fel energy from Teg'Ramm's battle chasing away even vermin and insects. However, around the corner to the next long hallway, it seemed to have the opposite effect. Fel orcs were pouring from the far rooms, snarling as they followed the orders of some commander at the far end.
"Archers, form ranks! On my mark!" some orc shouted from the far end, even as grunts and other Shattered Hand loyalists clogged the way forward.
"Now is the hardest part of the fight," Teg'Ramm said to those with him, smirking as the Fel Centaur stamped their hooves in eager anticipation. "Break their ranks, their spirits, and their spines! For the Dark Horde, for Lord Nobu'tan!"
"Ready!" the Fel orc shouted as Dark Horde quickly formed ranks, lances at the front and ranged attackers behind. "Aim!"
"Charge!" Teg'Ramm shouted, hurling several bolts of Fel power ahead of them to fracture the opening ranks of their enemy.
"Fire!" the Fel orc shouted, and arrows, coated in oil and burning, came flying over the heads of the red-skinned orcs, even as the Dark Horde charged, their reflexes and strength bolstered by a surge of bloodlust caused by Teg'Ramm's spell.
Edgran and his warriors gleefully destroyed the front line's formation, and Dark Horde grunts, Balefire ogres and their other forces quickly filled into the gaps, before pushing forward.
Teg'Ramm added to the chaos of the next few waves of their enemy, causing more spikes of Fel-tainted earth to erupt from the ground, impaling many of the Fel orcs, and causing just as many to flinch away from the devastating strength of the ogre warlock.
Even as the Dark Horde shattered the third line of Fel orcs, Teg'Ramm got a good look at the archer commander of this garrison, and smirked at the look of horror on the red face.
They may have endured unspeakable things on this devastated world, but the Dark Horde had been forged in Felfire, and experienced the terror of the Legion full force. None would stop them when they stood united under Lord Nobu'tan's banner. Teg'Ramm swore it to be so.
