Better late than never, i suppose. Enjoy the next chapter! ~F

Chapter 114

Fanning Out

Lor'themar was concerned at the lack of information flowing back to the Blood Elves from the rest of their allies. Naturally, he suspected that there would be delays with the main cities of the Horde across the sea, but even the Forsaken had slimmed their missives and updates to a crawl, leaving Silvermoon just as seemingly solitary as it had been before they came to help.

The Blood Elves had not sat idle in the lack of information however, and had taken great steps in repairing the devastation from the Scourge across Eversong Woods. Some wounds would take many years yet to heal, such as the dread scar, but by and large much of the decay and destruction had been repaired.

With the eventual knowledge that the Dark Portal had become reopened, a large group of pilgrims departed Silvermoon to try and find their lost prince. Lor'themar personally would have done the same, but duty to his people restrained him from venturing into the wastes of Outland. Here was where he was needed, managing the situation that his people had fallen into, and making sure that there was a kingdom left for when Kael'thas returned to lead them.

Still, there were days that even Lor'themar wondered if the prince would return. Since the day that Magister Rommath returned, bringing the vital knowledge that had saved their people from starvation, there had been not so much as a messenger from Kael'thas. For what all that the people of Silvermoon knew, their prince and his entire group that followed him could be dead. Lor'themar tried not to entertain that thought very long, as the idea of being permanently the leader of Quel'thalas frightened him to no end. Lor'themar was a Farstrider, not a leader.

To that end, Lor'themar had intentionally sent out some scouts under his direct command, to find where the rest of their people had gone in the expanse of Outland, hoping that they would find some answer to the mystery of their lost prince.

He had not expected any to return with any degree of swiftness. From what adventurers told in the various inns and taverns of Silvermoon, Outland was vast, and there was no knowing where the leader of the Blood Elves might be found, if he lived.

Still, Lor'themar pressed on, keeping with the duties that were required of him, and a few that were from his old position. This was why, when news did come at last, he was out patrolling the walls of the city. "Regent Lord!" a voice called, and he turned to look down at the approaching hawkstrider. "News from Outland!" the elf called, "Our people have been found!"

"You men, finish the patrol," Lor'themar ordered the Farstriders that had accompanied him, before sprinting for the nearest decent from the wall. A hawkstrider was there waiting, and he kicked the mount into high speed to return to Sunfury Spire.

The messenger was there, with both Halduron Brightwing and Rommath already hearing their tale. "Tell me everything," Lor'themar said as he dismounted and entered the spire.

"My Lord," the elf said, turning bright green eyes to face the Regent Lord of Silvermoon, "our people are scattered throughout the land of Outland, but I am certain that I have found the primary settlements and strongholds."

Lor'themar nodded, urging the elf to elaborate.

"In the northernmost parts of Outland, there is a vast shattered plane called the Netherstorm, where wild mana flares and wyrms are plentiful." The elf explained, and Lor'themar smiled.

"Leave it to our prince to find a place rich in mana for his people," He said, "tell us more."

"It is as you say," the messenger replied, "our people are there, manning massive collectors of curious workmanship, siphoning the mana from the very air of that place. Their ranks have swelled, but there is a problem."

Lor'themar paused, looking at the somber expression of the messenger, "the Blood Elves there are consorting with demons," he explained.

"Quite possible servants of Illidan that are aiding them, rather than any demon of the Legion," Rommath said reasonably, "I am sure that it is of no great concern."

"Be that as it may," the Elf replied, "something about the place has changed our cousins from Outland. They are aggressive and easily provoked, even against other Blood Elves."

"What of Kael'thas? Any news of the Prince's whereabouts?" Lor'themar requested.

"None that can be proved," the elf replied, "but there are floating fortresses on the far side of the Netherstorm, where all the magic is being funneled. It can reasonably be suspected that Prince Kael'thas is there, overseeing the collection of the mana himself."

"We must find some way to make contact with him," Lor'themar declared, thinking swiftly. They could try to send a force of Blood elves under the flag of Silvermoon. It would promptly declare their allegiance and probably permit them to at least some answers. But if the strangeness that the elf reported was correct, that may not be enough for the most fanatical of these other elves.

"We have little choice but the direct route it seems," Brightwing said, looking between Lor'themar and Rommath, "Prince Kael'thas cannot refuse people coming under the banner of his house and kingdom, so we must send messengers to learn of them."

"At least we have a location now, instead of reaching blindly through the entirety of Outland," Lor'themar replied. The others agreed, and started planning for a larger contingent of elves to travel to the Netherstorm, but Lor'themar held his own private reservations.

Something about their prince's long absence mixed with this isolation at the roof of Outland seemed off to him.

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Khadgar frowned as he conjured another pair of arcane wisps. He always had some routine watchers going around Outland to keep an eye on the movement of Illidan's various forces. Throughout the course of recent days, everything had been quiet. The Naga were holed up in the Zangermarsh, although what plan they had with the remaining water in the region Khadgar couldn't guess.

The Blood Elves were far more of a threat currently, as they were spread throughout Netherstorm, all the way down into Terrokar Forest itself. Kael'thas' forces were far more aggressive than Illidan's, as the Demon Hunter was blocked from entering Terokar by a sizeable blockade of Legion demons.

But for the mad Elf prince, his hatred for the Naaru, the Draenei, and even more for those among Scryers, who had abandoned him. There were constant attacks on the outermost villages and regions, and only the might of the Aldor and the Scryers held back the fanatics that followed Kael'thas' every order.

But as of late, Khadgar was watching for more than those who were their natural enemies on this world. The progress of the Alliance, Horde, and now the Dark Horde interested and worried the Archmage. Even as the Alliance sought to consolidate their forces, and unite with those in the Allerian Stronghold to the south in Terokar, and Wildhammer Stronghold in the extreme south. Khadgar had heard from his personal messengers to Honor Hold that Varian Wynn was now King of Stormwind, and that much had changed on Azeroth in their absence, but until the rampage of Illidan and Kael'thas were ended, none of the Sons of Lothar would return to their homeworld.

The Horde had pushed quickly toward Nagrand, strangely enough merging quickly not with the Fel orcs, but the Maghar that had resisted the demonic corruption of their bygone days. It intrigued Khadgar, and he personally wished greatly to meet with the leaders of this seemingly more peaceful Horde. Matters being what they were however, his fears were compounded by the Dark Horde's presence. The idea that the Horde of old had split into two factions was deeply troubling, and the human warlock that led them was equally stressful for the old Archmage.

Once more several wisps went out, and more returned with visions and messages from his acquaintances across Outland, and Khadgar was flooded with information from around the world. The Dark Horde had surged from their new stronghold in Hellfire Pinnesula, moving in rather large numbers to the east, both toward Terokar, and to Zangermarsh.

"They make their move at last…" the Archmage said, furrowing his brow as he tried to make sense of what he was seeing.

Despite having the resemblance of a massive army moving toward them, Khadgar could see that there was a distinct strategy in the separations and movements of the force. Ogres, led by a powerfully build mage, were leading the northern group, taking Forest Trolls, and some Fel Orcs into the marshes, while Centaur of all creatures, along with the strange avian women led the southern force into the forest, along with another, larger group of Fel Orcs. Apparently they were clearly defining their forces for the land they were entering, but for what purpose?

Nobu'tan was nowhere to be seen in their midst, nor were any warlocks outright visible, which confused and disturbed Khadgar. Unfortunately, there were many places that Khadgar's wisps could not go, and the interior of Hellfire Citadel was one of them. Spying on the leadership of the Dark Horde was simply impossible; the Fel around that place was too strong for such long range surveillance.

Unfortunately, without the full permission of A'dal and the other Naaru, the main fighting forces of the Sha'tar would not mobilize actively against a foe, even if they were marching on their gates. Convincing them of the potential danger would be equally difficult, as A'dal had already decreed that Nobu'tan and his Dark Horde were to be permitted to go about as they wished, so sure in their vision into the heart of Nobu'tan.

Khadgar did not doubt that A'dal had indeed seen such light in the heart of the human warlock, but it paid to be prudent nonetheless. The Aldor would at least listen to Khadgar, and at the least they could be prepared in case the Dark Horde moved east toward them rather than taking the road south into the heart of the forest.

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A host of eyes flew over the marching forces of the Dark Horde. From their central command in the heart of Hellfire Citadel, Nobu'tan watched their progress as they split to head to their respective missions. Alliance and Horde were both aware of their movement, and Nobu'tan hoped they were wise enough to stay well out of the way.

Despite that hope, Nobu'tan's plan had demanded the most minimal show of force as they moved to their positions, and from the eyes Nobu'tan himself would portal in their reinforcements for each group. War Master Voone was assigned to follow Garona, who would join them inside Zangermarsh, and discover the exact nature of the Naga's presence and plan, and where their leadership was hidden.

Meanwhile, Teg'Ramm would take his ogres and go further north, into the Blade's Edge Mountains, where Blaise and the Blackrock orcs would join them by portal. The Blackrock were used to treacherous mountain travel, and were eager to return to the ancient homeland of their clan. They were to make contact with the ogres in the mountains, understand the lay of the land, and investigate the Legion's presence that Blaise had reported. If possible, they were to establish an outpost for the Dark Horde's further march to the Netherstorm, but they lacked the forces to move on all locations at once.

In the south, Edgran would be leading an investigation of the devastated burial grounds south of the forest, where the Blightbringer Clan would portal in to assist. Voldemort was eager to sink his blade into their enemies, and there were rumors of Shadow Council activity in the ruins for him to butcher.

Finally, Aisha would take to the farthest south, and spearhead their advance into the Shadowmoon Valley. The Dragonmaw orcs would join them, and search for the rest of their clan, which were reported to be there in force under the flag of Illidan.

Held in reserve would be their secret weapon, the Dawn's Hammer Clan. Nobu'tan knew that the secret that the Dark Horde had followers of the Light was something that needed to be held close to the chest, and they would be deployed only if one of their teams ran into trouble they couldn't handle on their own.

Despite the fact that this was not an overt battle, Nobu'tan felt the same level of anxious energy filling him that did when in the midst of combat. It was a tactical mission, with many small facets that could at any time blow into open fighting, and as the lynchpin of their travel network, Nobu'tan had to be on his toes for sending their reinforcements at a moment's notice.

"Forces crossing into Terrokar Forest, my lord," one of the warlocks watching the southern forces reported, and Nobu'tan nodded. The others had entered the Zangermarsh some time ago, but still nothing just yet had accosted them.

Everyone in the room was on high alert for the slightest hint of an ambush as their forces moved across Outland, as there was little chance that they would maintain stealth as they spread out to the other regions of the shattered world.

"Approaching the first Naga encampment in Zangermarsh," another warlock called, and Nobu'tan approached, eager for information of whether action of his part was needed. "They are severely outnumbered and caught unaware," the Shadowmoon Fel orc reported, smirking at the slaughter he must have been witnessing, "Our forces are driving them into the swamp and examining the strange structure that the snakes were working with."

Nobu'tan nodded, only slightly disappointed that his presence was not needed. With Blaise and Garona among the Trolls and Ogres, there was no chance that they wouldn't figure out what the Naga were up to.

Over the next hour, the Zangermarsh group hit three more Naga encampments, without any need for reinforcements, while the Terokar force continued their march south. Eventually, Nobu'tan knew that they would split to their individual strike teams for Auchindoun and Shadowmoon Valley.

It was universally agreed that the group heading south, led by Aisha Feltalon and Warchief Nek'rosh Skullcrusher, would be the most vulnerable, as the area in the southeastern portion of Terorkar had both Fel orcs and Blood Elves loyal to Illidan. Ambush was possible, if not likely, and it would be important to mind that group until they crossed fully into the rocky lands of the Shadowmoon Valley.

Despite there being a small fort of Bonechewer Fel Orcs, the Dark Horde had not as of yet had time to send messengers to them regarding the change of their allegiance, and Nobu'tan suspected heavily that he would need to aid the marching army as they passed between the area watched by the Fel Orcs and the Blood Elves to the north of the road.

Almost as though the very though summoned the action, one of the warlocks called for him, "Our southern force is being attacked by Blood Elves," he said quickly, and Nobu'tan turned, sprinting for the door out to a wide chamber, where the Dawn's Hammer waited, along with some Bonechewer Fel Orcs that Nobu'tan had requested in the event of this attack.

"We go to Terrorkar," Nobu'tan declared, swinging Aetish wide and conjuring a wide nether gate to the nearest point that he had scouted personally. The dimly lit forest spread out before them, and the sound of battle in the near distance reached them through the portal.

Bannok Grimaxe hefted his massive, two-handed axe, "For the Light, and for the Dark Horde!" he roared, chanted by his clan as they charged through the portal. Nobu'tan followed quickly, flanked by the Bonechewer Fel orcs, and quickly the reinforcements ran down the road to find their forces under attack by fire and arrows, even as some Elven paladins clashed with the Dragonmaw warriors.

The Fel Veela had taken to the air, screeching and returning Felfire as they dominated the air over the skirmish. Nobu'tan reared back, ready to hurl his own chaotic projectiles, but paused. He had taken great pains to conceal the fact that he was far more than a simple warlock, from hiding his physical form to restricting his spellcasting. But at this juncture, he felt an inkling that it may be wiser to drum up a great deal of fear from the Blood Elves, who may take the tales back to their master and prince.

Making sure that the leader of the Blood Elves, who seemed to be secretly working with the Legion, was aware of Nobu'tan and how powerful he was may be essential to making sure that he was treated as a equal when inevitable they encountered each other.

Smirking, Nobu'tan hefted Aetish, the ancient wood singing at the chance to release its own pent up power and arcane mastery.

Spiraling bolts of pure magic erupted from the raven-crown of the staff, launching out to strike the spells, projectiles, and even bodies of elves that descended upon his allies. Despite the great expelling of magic, Nobu'tan felt energized by it, rather than weakened, and smirked, even as he sprinted forward, allowing the arcane from the staff to infuse into him, increasing his speed until he was a blur of motion.

Everything slowed around him, and with quick gestured and muttered words Nobu'tan caused explosions and blasts of power to knock the elves around like ragdolls, interrupting their Magisters' spells and shattering the trinkets that the elves used to sate their addiction to magical energy.

The staff gleefully fed off the arcane radiating from the world around him, as well as Nobu'tan's personal magic, and even siphoning the magic that the Blood Elves were amassing to fight them with.

Slowly, the elves began to realize that they were outnumbered and significantly outmaneuvered, and began to fall back. Almost half heartedly, Nobu'tan pursued them for a short space, just to make sure they weren't cycling back to launch a follow-up attack with greater numbers, but inevitably he let them escape. They needed to bring word of the strange demon that wielded the arcane to their prince for him, while Nobu'tan focused his own attention elsewhere.

Encouraging the semi-sentient staff to recall its magic and settle for the next time its might was called upon, Nobu'tan returned to the road, where the Dark Horde forces were regrouping and seeing to the wounded. The priests of the Light's Hammer Clan were more than effective, restoring many with the power of the Light and preparing for their continued journey.

"We will accompany you to the edge of Terokar," Nobu'tan said, arrived where Aisha, Bannok, and Nek'rosh, "I wish to see that the last remnants of the Bonechewers join us, and free themselves from Illidan's forces before we descend upon them completely."

"As you wish, Lord Nobu'tan," the Fel Veela said, even as the Dragonmaw Orc Warchief nodded.

"Lead on," Nobu'tan ordered, even as the lines of warriors started down the road once more, heading to the southeast.

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Velen entered Stormwind with little fanfare. It was remarkable how swiftly the people of the Alliance embraced the Draenei as one of their own, and the citizens of the Exodar had already spread throughout the various lands controlled by their new allies.

Most of the humans of Stormwind knew little regarding Velen or his prominence in the Draenei, and that worked to his favor in quickly passing through the congested Trade District, and into the Cathedral District. The massive edifice was the central location of the Light among the humans and dwarves. Velen could sense the power that the building had, due to the faith that those living around contributed to the sacred place.

But, even as he entered the structure, Velen could sense the presence somewhere deep below, like a lurking shadow hiding just out of sight of the overwhelming light. Still, his purpose for being here was not to investigate and judge the humans of Stormwind in their faith, but rather to embrace and understand it.

It was a notion that the Draenei, who had literal embodiments of Light to power them in the Naaru, did not have any comprehension about. The human spirit seemed to be able to draw strength from things they only partially understood, let alone had any evidence of until recent days.

Velen was humbled to walk among the pillar halls of the Cathedral, and hear the worship of the Light itself by the petitioners of the church. The Light was so pure here, and it rejuvenated him after his long journey, and the terrible sadness of returning prematurely to Outland to find Nobu'tan and speak with him.

Unbidden, a vision opened before the Prophet's eyes, and he saw a day far in the future, where the Cathedral would be filled with members of all races, Horde, Alliance and all those in between, celebrating a day when there was no war left on Azeroth, where the Light reined in purity and harmony with all races.

It was glorious to behold, and Velen's heart swelled at the idea of such an overwhelming peace, and the laying down of all desire for war. Unfortunately, as the vision ended, the Draenei knew that there was a long road ahead of them all if such a vision was to become reality.

The Legion had to be defeated, and after that, the Void Lords themselves. Until then, war, conflict and hatred would rein on Azeroth, and consume every race, the Draenei included. Velen had accepted that now. They had run from the fight long enough. With the Alliance at their side, and Velen carefully guiding them to where his visions showed they would earn victory, the Draenei were ready to fight for what the Light promised.

"I am ready to depart," Velen said to his Vindicators, and they started out of the holy edifice. Once back in the Canals, Velen paused, spotting a small family that seemed to be talking a walk. The older of the two men was unknown to him, but guessing from the love that emanated from the other members of the Malfoy family, Velen could guess that this was the father of their household.

The little girl radiated in the Draenei's eyes, greater and clearer than before, like a beacon against the early morning shadows, and he couldn't stop himself from turning and greeting the family.

"Archenon Poros…" he greeted, nodding to Lady Malfoy and her family.

"Ah, Velen, good to see you again…" Lady Malfoy replied, smiling as the family stopped for a moment. "You have yet to meet my husband, Lucius…"

"A pleasure," Velen stated, offering his hand in the human gesture of greeting, which Lord Malfoy took.

"What brings you back to Stormwind so soon?" the younger male, Draco, asked.

"I have returned from a long journey," Velen admitted, "and sought rest and repose in the Cathedral before continuing back across the sea."

"I trust you found what you sought, then," Lord Malfoy said, smiling gently as he started to steer his wife on their way by the shoulder.

They all paused, and Velen noticed a small tugging at his robes, which drew his eyes downward. Little Aurora was there, the small human child smiling brightly up at the old Draenei, clutching a collection of small flowers in her other fist.

Once the girl was certain that Velen was paying her all his attention, she carefully plucked one of the flowers, little more than a dandelion, and offered it up to the Prophet. Velen felt the warmth of the child's purity, and accepted the weed with a smile, "Your kindness is radiant, young one," he said gently. Clearly the young girl scarcely understood his words, but giggled as the Light from Velen mingled with her own glowing magical aura.

"Bye bye…" the girl said happily, as she took her mother's hand. Together, the family started away, continuing along the edge of the canals on their walk.

"Ready to depart, Prophet?" one of the Vindicators asked, while Velen watched the family depart, slowly twirling the little flower in his long fingers. It was almost mesmerizing, that such a small beacon of light was born to such a family, while the two males had strong Fel corruption in their own. The ties to Nobu'tan were obvious for those who could see what Velen saw, but at the same time the flexibility of the human spirit was something that his visions had rarely taken into account.

"Yes, let us return to the Exodar," Velen eventually said, although his mind continued to wander. There had been a point where the Prophet would live and breathe by his visions, but as of late he was starting to grow unsure in the events he had foreseen. Nobu'tan, the Dark Horde, and even little Aurora all burned so very brightly, yet he had never caught so much as a glimpse of them in his visions Velen encountered them personally.

He would need to ponder these matters deeply, and perhaps confer with the Naaru of the Exodar, O'ros. The Naaru that had accompanied the Draenei from their flight out of Outland was wise and noble, and would likely have some ideas regarding the lack of clarity in his visions as of late.

A ship was speedily procured for Velen's journey across the sea to Darnassius, from which he would be able to find another ship to the islands where the Exodar had crash landed.

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Thrall had never felt more alive than during the time spent in Nagrand with the last remnants of his people, uncorrupted and pure in their traditions and history. Unfortunately, as Warchief of the Horde he had no excuse to stay in Garadar forever, although in his heart Thrall wanted nothing more out of his life.

Med'an grew rapidly in his skills, the shaman of the Mag'har taking a real shine to the son of Garona Halforcen, and sharing many of their secrets with the young, powerful orc. But as the time for the departure grew near, it was to Garrosh that Thrall's mind turned. The young leader of the Mag'har had had the largest turnaround in mood and confidence once learning of his father's heroism.

The younger orc had stayed by Thrall's side, asking questions about his father, who he had been and how he had acted in life. Thrall happily told all that he knew, and wished that the physical relics of the Warsong Clan's leader, including Grom's weapon Gorehowl, had been lost to the Horde since the death of Manneroth.

Garrosh became slightly less energetic as the time for Thrall to leave approached, and the orc Warchief had a hard decision to ponder as he prepared to depart for Thrallmar, where mages waited to open portals back to Orgrimmar.

The final night before their departure, Greatmother Geyah hosted a feast for the orcs of Azeroth. Across Garadar fire pits were blazing brightly as the Maghar celebrated, sang songs of lore, and ate delicacies of Nagrad's bountiful plenty.

"Thrall…" a voice said, even as the Orc Warchief looked on over the peaceful village. Thrall turned, having expected Garrosh to approach him at some point during the festivities.

"I owe you much," Garrosh said humbly, "You've brought the spirit of honor back into my life, and now I can at last lead the Mag'har as they deserve to be led. We can flourish here once more, rather than simply survive the evils that surround us on all sides."

"It needn't be so difficult," Thrall said, his own heart starting to pound as he voiced he desire, "the Mag'har could join us in Azeroth, and live safely in the walls of Orgrimmar."

"We'd never want that…" Garrosh said, "Nagrand is our home, and we will fight to keep it."

Thrall smiled, "I suspected as much. I feel the same about the land of Durotar." He took another breath, and continued, "But I would wish to offer you a place at Orgrimmar, to represent the needs of the Mag'har, and remind us all of the honor that once existed in the Horde long before Gul'dan's corruption."

"I…" Garrosh stopped, uncertain once more at the offer, "I do not know what to say. I have duties to the Mag'har now that I can operate as their chieftain without hesitation or fear of failing them, yet at the same time I would be delighted to see the wonders of the orcs that my father freed from demonic enslavement…"

"You should go with him, Garrosh," another voice said. Both males turned to see the Greatmother walking toward them, aided by a young female shaman. Thrall couldn't help but pause at the questioning glare that the younger shaman gave him, but she said nothing as the Greatmother took Garrosh's hands in her own.

"You have found yourself at last, Garrosh, and you need to seek your own destiny. Garadar will endure, and celebrate the heroism of both father and son of the Warsong." The old leader of the Mag'har said.

"Your words humble me, Greatmother," Garrosh said, and he turned to Thrall, "I will accompany you back to Azeroth, and witness all that my father saved."

"I will be honored to show them to you." Thrall replied, feeling the strength of the son of his mentor warm his heart. The Horde would benefit greatly from the symbol of the Mag'har among them, just as Thrall himself would be able to repay Grom for all his tutelage and care while Thrall struggled to learn to lead the Horde.

"Come, Garrosh, Go'el," the Greatmother said, taking the arm of the young female shaman, "we shouldn't be absent from the festivities for too long."

"Of course," both male orcs replied, and they followed the ancient wise-woman back to the central bonfire and the heart of the celebration.

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Garona watched carefully as the Naga slithered around another of their encampments, oblivious of the peril that they were in as the net of Forest trolls slowly encircled them.

The ogres, along with Tenebrous, Nobu'tan's other master assassin, had already departed for the northern mountains, leaving Garona and the trolls to continue harassing the Naga and slowly discovering what they were up to in the dwindling swamplands.

They had struck three different camps already, and while many of the Naga were slain, they had yet to fully understand what the jungles of pipes singing into the various lakes and ponds were to be used for. Garona could tell, based on some rudimentary engineering, that the Naga were collecting the water, but for what end was still a complete mystery.

They had encountered, in the northeastern part of the swamps, a completely dried lake, where the natural creatures had gone feral in their want of water. It almost appeared that the Naga sought nothing more than to control the region through the monopolization of the land's water, and the enslaved broken seemed to bolster that fact. The once proud creatures were seen quite often with the Naga, laboring under the serpents' commands in maintaining the strange pipes and collecting other items from the swamps.

Most would fight the Dark Horde if threatened, but Garona was quick to note that they would flee if their Naga slavers were killed first. She had therefore ordered the Forest Trolls to focus on slaughtering the Naga and freeing the Broken, while some would subtly follow them to where they fled to.

Nodding, she signaled for the trolls to launch their attack. The Naga cried out an alarm as from all around them axes and spears flew from the mushroom-like trees. Slipping into the chaos, Garona kept out of sight as the trolls slaughtered the Naga scouts and their attempt at a defense.

Her objective was the leader of this base. The last few had escaped before being accosted or killed, but Garona was determined to have some measure of intelligence about the Naga's plans. The large mage creature was bellowing orders in their hissing language, directing troops with his trident, but Garona could see that he too was preparing to flee.

Acting swiftly, Garona darted forward. Hurling a pair of small throwing knives, she got the attention of the massive serpent when her blades pierced the thin fins along its spine. "You will pay for that, landwalker…" the Naga hissed, gripping his massive weapon and approaching, rising up on the muscled tail and preparing to lunge forward.

Garona almost yawned at the telegraphed attack, before dodging out of the way, allowing the plunging trident to skirt off the blade of her daggers. She rushed forward, still debating whether to kill or capture this Naga as her weapons clashed heavily off the hardened scales of the aquatic creature.

The muscled male whirled, swinging his trident low to try and trip Garona, but the nimble spymaster flipped backward over the weapon, before driving a dagger into the chest of the Naga, carefully missing anything vital, but greatly hindering the beast's ability to fight her.

Crying out in pain, the commander of the encampment tried to call for aid, but Garona flicked several smoke bombs at the Naga's face, and the resultant detonations overrode his cries. Additionally, the smoke would interfere with his breathing, weakening him even further for Garona to defeat him.

The Naga stopped trying to play defensively, and charged her, the sinewy body barreling directly into her lithe form. Garona had no chance to stop him in a battle of strength, and was knocked backward. But even as she scrambled back to her feet, she could tell that the sudden burst of energy had taxed the Naga far more than he expected.

It was the poison on her weapons at work. The dagger was still buried in the muscle of the Naga's left shoulder, preventing him from adequately wielding his trident. Garona smirked. The Naga may not know it, but he was at her mercy now.

The fighting around them had died down, and the other Naga had either been slain or driven away. The Forest Trolls were starting to converge on their location, and the leader of their enemies had only two choices: surrender or death.

Granted, he thought he might still flee, but Garona was already ahead of him by the time the larger Naga turned to escape. Her second danger flashed downward, skewering the tail and pinning it to the ground.

The Naga howled in agony, and tried to wrench itself free, but the delay was enough that soon he was surrounded by the green-skinned trolls of Azeroth's forests.

"Accursed Landwalkers, the Coilfang will not tolerate this insult!" the creature shouted, but War Master Voone gleefully knocked the Naga in the back of the head with one of his weapons.

"He will do for getting the answers we need," Garona said, looking around at the surrounding outpost. "Still no clues to what the underlying plot for collecting the water is?"

"Notin' yet…" Voone said, "But da Naga will know dat sometin' be goin' on on de surface soon enough…"

Garona nodded. It was the truth. They wouldn't be able to keep up the pressure before the Naga replied in force. They only had so much time left to discover exactly what the Naga desired in this dreary place.

Hopefully, the trolls would be more than capable of loosening the lips of this prisoner, even while they made their way to where the Broken fled. One way or another they would get the information that they desired.

Voone quickly ordered his trolls to tie the Naga so it couldn't escape, and they set off back into the thickest part of the mushroom forest. Both the Horde and the Alliance had outposts in the marshes, but the Dark Horde had yet to determine a location to establish as their own.

Some of their scouts had noticed ogres in the northwest part of the swamp, but to conquer them effectively, Garona would prefer that Teg'Ramm and the Balefire Clan be the ones to invade. There was something about the Ogre Mage, where he had the perfect combination of strength and intelligence to effective seize control and yet earn respect from the conquered clans.

A pair of trolls eventually found them as they departed the destroyed outpost. "We be followin' dose Broken like you asked…"

"You found where they flee to when we free them." Garona said, understanding that they wouldn't have returned without the information. "Good. Lead the way, we have a prisoner that we need to question, and I want to be somewhere relatively safe when he wakes up."

The trolls nodded, and the party started to move out. Garona kept to the rear of the line, keeping a close eye on their surroundings. Where they had the speed and stealth on their side to attack and disappear on a whim, the Naga had the home field advantage, having been here longer, and she was not about to allow them to exploit their knowledge of the terrain and spy on their forces as they moved through the swamps.

It was something that she would have done, and therefore was required to keep a sharp eye out for. She grinned, thinking of how long it had been since she had put her full skills to use in a manner that she not only needed to participate in, but voluntarily believed in. Not that she would ever readily express that sentiment that was.