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Chapter 134

Liberation of the Ashtongue

Med'an could feel the sweat building on his forehead as he concentrated, wielding the Arcane to conjure fire that had, so recently, been effortless when calling upon the spirits of flame to aid him. But his grandmother had insisted that he had to learn to conjure fire with both types of magic to be truly effective in battle.

Normally, that wouldn't be a problem, but this had been a marathon of a training session, showcasing his progress in all that he had learned since departing for Orgrimmar. It was grueling, but the satisfied smile on his grandmother's face was completely worth the effort.

"It seems you have more than met my expectations when I sent you to learn the ways of the elements," she said when it was all finished, "which agrees with Thrall's assessment. You've done very well."

Med'an beamed, but the moment was quickly lost as a portal appeared out on the wide grounds of Lady Proudmoore's tower in Theramore. The sorceress herself appeared, seeming to relax as the portal closed, and the sea air filled her lungs once again.

"Welcome back, Lady Jaina," Med'an greeted her, even as Aegwynn approached to offer her some of the tea that she had prepared for the pair that had remained in Theramore. Jaina accepted, gratefully, drinking deeply of the soothing liquid. "I had missed this," she said, looking across the small isle nation, "the wilds of Outland are no place for me…"

"What news from the Alliance?" Med'an asked, eager to hear of anything from the Eastern Kingdoms.

"Nothing of terrible consequence," Jaina replied, "All attention as of late has been focused on the Outland campaign, and the dangers beyond the Dark Portal."

"And the Dark Horde?" Med'an persisted. He knew that Jaina was trying to keep him ignorant of what the mysterious third faction was up to, but so long as his mother, Garona, was involved with their actions, Med'an would continue asking to know more.

"Much the same," Jaina said, "We did see a massive army of theirs moving across the Hellfire Peninsula as we undertook our own mission, so I suspect they may be in the midst of a large conflict of their own, but I was unable to learn any details."

Med'an wanted to ask if his mother was spotted among all the warriors of the Dark Horde, but thought better of it. Not only would it have been a long shot to pick out one figure from thousands, especially from the air if what he guessed about Lady Proudmoore's mission was correct, but he wasn't sure if he wanted to know for a certainty that his mother was marching into a potentially dangerous battle.

Jaina caught him watching her amidst his internal struggle, and smiled knowingly, "I am certain that Garona is perfectly safe. She has survived for many years in difficult situations, and this is nothing she can't handle."

Med'an smiled, but nevertheless his worry did not diminish. He had scarcely met his mother, and wanted desperately to get to know her better, and if she perished in the wastes of the former homeland of the orcs, he would be denied that chance forever.

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

Garona spun around the Elven warrior that challenged her, planting both daggers in the frail back before pressing onward. She and Tenebrous had been tasked with securing the upper ramparts when the enemy reinforcements had started converging. Now that the Stormreavers had taken to the field, and Lord Nobu'tan had entered the Black Temple proper, the fighting had grown even more intense, and the Dark Horde was struggling to hold the line for more warriors to enter the courtyard.

The human had leapt over the head of an Illidari Fel orc, black flames dancing from his blades and he carved a long, jagged line across the massive chest plate.

"We can't keep playing the defense here," Tenebrous yelled over the din of metal clashing and dying creatures, "We have to push them back."

"I'm open to suggestions," Garona shot back, dancing out of range of the over-swing of her newest opponent. She knew that Elves were often seen as the most agile of races, but to her, they moved horrifically slow.

"There!" Tenebrous shouted, planting a blade into a demon that had lunged at him, indicating the large shrine on the rear of the ramparts. Warriors and more particularly many elves were pouring from within, probably some garrison deeper in the Temple that they were housed in, "If we destroy the entrance there; that will stem the tide on this side."

Garona nodded. It was sound, for the short term, to try and get this side of the battle under control. They had each started on one side, but it had quickly become apparent that the side Garona had started on was the one that would be overrun far sooner than Tenebrous'.

Still, they dispatched their next foes swiftly and bolted, cutting their way through the press of enemy troops, and allowing themselves to be lost in the heat of battle. With the rage of conflict at the edge of the ramparts where the Dark Horde lines were located, the Illidari were less likely to pay attention to the two assassins, and both Garona and Tenebrous slipped past countless warriors, making their way to the rear lines of the defenders of the Temple.

They luck was slim, and Garona was not surprised when it expired, as soon as they encountered some of the more elite warriors that served Illidan.

More elves, wearing cloth over the region where their eyes were, or would be, turned as they approached, seeming to sense them regardless of their lack of sight.

These were clearly different than those they had faced already, judging from the elongated blades that they wielded, and the heavy reek of Fel that permeated the air around them. "Fight in Lord Illidan's name!" the lead one called, signaling the others to prepare, and charge at the two assassins.

Unlike their lesser brethren, these elves of both primary races back in Azeroth were significantly more agile, and Garona had to duck the swiping blades more than once as they changed direction mid movement to try and counter her attacks.

If anything, Tenebrous seemed to have an even more difficult time with these foes, as they seemed to home in on his movements like a beacon, the long blades catching and parrying his daggers with deadly accuracy.

Garona wasn't certain, as their battle with these elite warriors dragged on, whether they would emerge victorious. If anything, it seemed that these blind elves grew more dangerous as they wore on, as though the opening exchanges were just them warming up. Garona was about to suggest they fall back, when she heard Tenebrous' voice bellowing arcane spells.

The human disguised as an orc held a small pile of scrolls, and was belting out the contents of each one, the parchment incinerating in his hands as he ducked and dodged around his attacker, narrowly escaping death himself to give them the needed magic to keep their stamina up against the relentless onslaught of those strange glaives.

Garona felt her reflexes heighten, her strength magnify, and something more, the awakening of almost a sixth sense to danger that allowed her to dodge attacks she hadn't even been consciously aware were coming.

But the earth-born wizard wasn't finished there. Once the scrolls were consumed, he filled his hands with dagger and wand, parrying the next incoming strike and planting the small focus under the guard of his Elven opponent. Garona did not understand the language of Nobu'tan's homeworld, but the jet of green light was indication enough that something powerful had taken place.

The elf slumped over, lifeless. The others halted, seeming to sense the magic, but unable to place what exactly it was they were facing, before gritting their teeth and attacking with renewed fury.

This time, however, Garona was prepared. Leveraging all her skill, along with the magic aides that she had been given, she fought toe-to-toe with these elves, daggers flashing in unison with their blades, sparks flying as metal dug into metal. They were pushing the elves back, gaining ground in inches toward the place where their enemy emerged onto the terrace.

That was when one of her opponents finally made their first mistake. The elf in question attempted to leap over Garona, possibly to try and flank her while a companion took the spot he was leaving, but the female half-orc would not allow it. Seizing the elf's leg with a hand, still grasping her dagger, she wrenched the elf back down, sending him falling in a heap as his fellow tried to rush to fill the spot he was leaving. The two collapsed, and Garona took the advantage, slitting both their throats before they had a change to right themselves.

With the small window provided by their defeat, Garona pulled some explosives from her jerkin, supplies from the goblins that allied with the Dark Horde, and hurled them toward the small shrine. They bounced twice, rolling into the narrow entryway, and exploded, sending a plume of smoke and debris into the air, amid the screams of the unaware Illidari that were trying to exit from there.

As the smoke swiftly cleared, the entrance was revealed to be completely shattered, stone collapsed in such a way to block all but the most diligent to dig themselves out. Garona nodded, recognizing that their objective had been completed, and they could return to their lines to mop up the rest of the warriors here, when she whirled, sensing danger.

The Illidari that had been fighting Tenebrous was upon her, and behind she saw her ally on the ground, a deep slice across his torso.

Her heart leapt, how had she not heard the impact or the cry of pain as her ally fell? Lashing back fervently, she drove the elf backward, keeping one eye trained on Tenebrous to see if there were any signs of life left in the young man.

The elf was winded from his previous fight with Tenebrous, many cuts riddling his body, the gleam of the other assassin's poison clear to see, and it was already taking effect. The elf's movements because minutely more sluggish, and it was enough for Garona to end him, removing both an arm and the elf's head with two quick movements.

She rushed to the fallen man's side, and noticed that his chest was still rising and falling, breathing shallow but present. A half-drunk potion was already at his side, but the human had lost consciousness halfway through drinking the restorative. The rest was spilled across the stone of the Temple.

Quickly, Garona pulled one of her own potions, pressing it to the man's lips, and forcing his throat into the reflex that would swallow. The liquid drained quickly, but Tenebrous did not stir. Checking his wound, Garona could see the deep cut already mending, but there was something else at work here, some magic she did not fully understand. She had to get her comrade out of here, and fast. The other Illidari were starting to take notice that their elite warriors had fallen, and were converging on their location to avenge themselves.

Heaving the unconscious body over her shoulders, Garona wrapped an arm around Tenebrous' legs to steady him, and sprinted back toward the Dark Horde lines. With Nobu'tan entering the Temple to face Illidan, there was only one left on the battlefield that she knew would have knowledge to identify and cure what was afflicting Tenebrous.

The Dark Horde lines opened for her as she approached, and Garona slipped back into the relative safety, seeking the aid of another grunt to carry the fallen assassin down a ladder so she could return to the hillside fort, where their leadership still remained to command the siege.

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Voldemort lurched to the right, the massive trident on his opponent glancing off Blightbringer as he parried the massive Naga's next lunge.

All around, the Death Knights of his clan were butchering the other serpents, using their bodies as unliving shields to swarm over the massive pipe that the beasts were spilling out of, funneling them into the death wheel that they were creating.

This monster of a leader however, was not daunted at the loss of his allies, or the fact that he was surrounded. He fought on, firing spines from the massive coral-encrusted arm to pin necromancers and Death Knights to the ground, while flailing with his weapon at any who drew too close.

Apocalypse flashed in Voldemort's other hand, torrents of necromantic energy darting into the dead surrounding himself and the hulking Naga. More of the serpents rose once more, eyes burning with the energy of reanimation, before they launched themselves at their former leader, hands and arms grasping and stabbing, trying to hinder the powerful warrior so that Voldemort could strike him with ease.

But the brute wouldn't go down so easily, shattering the broken bodies of his former allies as he raged and threw them around, cutting a wide area around him and driving the Blightbringers back.

Just then, serendipity struck, as a boulder from the Dark Horde war machines was flung in their direction, clipping the near side of the parapet to them, spraying the battlefield with stone shrapnel. Even the hulk of a Naga had to shield his eyes from the spray, but the dead were unaffected.

Taking the moment, Voldemort charged in the torrent of sharp stones, ignoring the flaying of his skin by the razor-sharp rocks, even as he raised both blades. The beast roared in pain as the two runeblades carved lines across his toughened hide, biting deeply and causing blood to spray from the wounds.

Voldemort withdrew to the lines of his people, allowing a Necromancer to tend to his injuries. The battle was won now, whether their enemy was aware of it or not.

The magic that the Death Knights were blessed with caused plagues to course through whatever weapon they held, and their Runeblades in particular. Even as he turned to look at the soon-to-be-dead Naga, he glanced at the wounds, as the gushing blood turned black with infection.

The Naga touched the wounds, visibly wincing at the pain that it caused, and Voldemort smiled. Both warriors knew what it meant, and the Naga drew itself up. Voldemort squeezed the hilts of his weapons tighter, advancing to meet the fury of the creature as it lost all sense of survival.

The beast roared, swinging its trident downward, before lashing out with its massive tail. Voldemort blocked the overhead blow, before sidestepping the whip-like tail and cutting downward, hacking at the armored scales with his personal weapon.

It was a matter of time, and the Naga knew it; the more he raged, the quicker the deadly magic coursed through his veins, killing him all the faster.

Even as he lunged for his second assault, foam was already pooling from the jaws of the creature's mouth, a signal that he was entering the final stages of the normally long and agonizing death.

Still, he would fight to his last gasp, and Voldemort was willing to permit the creature its choice of end. Playing defensive therefore, Voldemort weathered the blows that the rapidly weakening creature threw at him, tiring him out until he collapsed under his own weight.

"Do it mortal…" the Naga hissed, collapsing to the dirt, the Trident clattering at his side. "End it!" he demanded. Voldemort advanced, raising both blades over the creature's head.

"Lord Illidan will… crush you…" the Naga threatened, sealing his spite in his final words.

The threat ended, and his forces having damned up the sewer entrance on this end, they had nothing more to accomplish here on the ground of the courtyard. Voldemort turned to see more of their forces marching in from the outside, and that the walls were covered in the Dark Horde's warriors already.

He rallied his clan, and returned to the forward post, where Teg'Ramm the Ogre Mage-Lord directed their assault of the outer parts of the fortress. "The Naga have been dealt with, where is Lord Nobu'tan?" Voldemort said. He had briefly sensed the power of the Grand Warlock as he fought the Naga, but he had been focused on his own fight and had not witnessed what had occurred behind them.

Curiously the Pit Lord was gone as well. The chill of the grave had made him somewhat less than fully attentive, and that concerned him.

"Lord Nobu'tan has entered the Temple, alongside the Night Elf Warden and his elite guard." One head of the ogre said, as the other barked orders at the surrounding warriors and clans, "I suggest you go after them, as reinforcements. There are sure to be even more hellish creatures waiting within, and I am tied up marshaling our forces here."

Voldemort nodded, taking only a brief moment to consider this creature before him before turning toward the Temple's entrance. The massive ogre, really a troll of his homeworld, was the most devoted out of all the Dark Horde to Nobu'tan, on a personal level. Voldemort had never understood this connection, and did not think it would be understandable even if he asked about it, but it still intrigued him nonetheless.

Still, he was torn away from these thoughts by a flare of death magic from within the Temple. Some being inside was channeling the same powers as his Death Knights, and that demanded more of the attention of Voldemort than the constant mystery of Nobu'tan's allies from their mutual home world.

Fortunately, it seemed that the Warlock had not gotten far after entering the Temple itself, defended as it was with all manner of Illidari-loyal demons and other creatures. Not that the barrier of enemy forces would keep them much longer, the Death Knight noted. The Grand Warlock was blasting the demons apart with great ease with Fel magic. Flames and shadows poured from the dark sorcerer, even as he walked casually forward, uncaring about the creatures that he reduced to ashes in his wake.

The armored Night Elf was taking a far more visceral approach. The crescent weapon bit deeply into demonic flesh, carving a path through Satyrs and Nathrezim that converged to defend the entrance.

Falling upon the other flank, Voldemort skewered another demon, turning to block an attack from another as the first was reduced to Fel ash. The other Death Knights spread out, pushing back against the demonic fighters, creating a buffer for the leader of the Dark Horde, allowing Voldemort to turn to the warlock as Nobu'tan considered their options to advance.

"Teg'Ramm sends his everlasting concern…" Voldemort said, only the scarcest hint of teasing in his voice.

Nobu'tan grunted, still clearly annoyed at the hovering behavior of his most loyal servant as he looked on ahead, searching for some unknown indication of where they ought to proceed.

Pinpointing something that Voldemort did not see, the warlock turned to the right, heading for the nearest passage there. At the last moment, Voldemort pulled up short, sensing the life of an unseen figure waiting there in the doorway, and wondered how the warlock sensed what even the Death Knight had not.

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Nobu'tan knew that Akama would be waiting somewhere near the entrance when they broke into the Temple. It had taken some time to find the faint traces of shadow magic that the strange creature wielded, but he had managed it, finding the broken Draenei waiting in the doorway to his right.

"The Shade controlling my clan is in the chamber beyond," Akama said, gesturing with one of his kama weapons inside. "Through it, Illidan's grasp over my tribe is strong."

Peering past the creature, Nobu'tan saw many more of the Ashtongue, standing around and listening to what appeared as a shadowy version of their leader, although the creature emitted no audible sound.

"It is a manifestation of all my darkness," Akama said quietly, explaining the existence of the shade to Nobu'tan's unasked question, "bound to the will of Illidan, and through it controlling myself and all Ashtongue… I can turn the tables and bind it back to myself, but I will need your assistance to isolate and weaken it so that I can assert control once more."

"I will do this, and once you are free, you can lead us directly to Illidan," Nobu'tan said, confirming his suspicions of the Broken's offered betrayal.

"Yes." Akama said, "Tell me when you are prepared for this fight."

Beckoning for Miaev and Voldemort, as well as the ghastly shade that followed the Death Knight like a lost puppy, Nobu'tan nodded at Akama. They would be able to free him and his people, and capture a large boon to their assault of Illidan's stronghold.

Stepping inside, Nobu'tan poured magic through the Aetish, forcefully warping the shape of as many Ashtongue that he could see, changing them into harmless creatures, and sweeping them out of the room via tiny portals, dropping them outside of the chamber in the wide hall.

The remainder charged, mindless in their aggression, and while Nobu'tan would have preferred to keep as many of these potential allies alive, it simply wasn't possible for them all to survive. There were, in particular, a group of six channelers empowering the Shade of Akama, keeping the other half of their leader from approaching and starting the ritual to merge them back into one being.

Maiev and Voldemort darted in, engaging those who drew near with their blades and cutting them down, while the banshee supported them all with shadow magic, bolstering their defense against physical threats and mending what wounds they sustained.

Meanwhile, Nobu'tan contended with the casters surrounding the Shade, interjecting wizarding magic to disrupt their concentration and end their spell. Crackling explosions startled several of them, but in the end Nobu'tan had to kill the last few with large shards of arcane-created ice.

Akama entered the room as the first few started to lose focus on their spell, beginning his own spell and drawing the Shade from its dais. The darkened version of the Ashtongue chieftain stalked down the stairs, hatred in its face as it was forced to approach his other half.

Only once the final beam of magic from the channelers was broken, did the Shade break free, drawing its weapons and lashing out at Akama. The two fought briefly, but other Ashtongue were spilling in from small antechambers, trying to interfere or reassert control over the Shade themselves.

While the others busied themselves with hindering the fools that ran to stop Akama, Nobu'tan focused on weakening the Shade, and allowing the spell that the Ashtongue Chieftain was casting to take effect.

The dark aspect of Akama screamed, even as the spell was completed and the living Broken drew his weapons. Rather than be absorbed, the Shade went berserk, whirling on Nobu'tan and charging.

"The Shade must be defeated, but I have severed its control over my people," Akama shouted, following behind with his own attack, trying to delay his counterpart before it reached the lord of the Stormreavers.

Still, Nobu'tan raised Aetish, catching both shadowy Kamas as they swung down, and blocked the heavy double strike.

Pushing against the Shade, Nobu'tan had to tap into the Fel to give him the physical strength to contend with the might of his opponent. He could sense the Fel energy used in its creation, the dark magic literally tapping into the soul of Akama to draw forth his most violent tendencies.

Almost in spite of his promise to assist the fallen Draenei reclaim their temple, Nobu'tan wished he could study this Shade, and more thoroughly learn the ins and outs of its creation. For what it was, as they fought, and he unleashed a torrent of emerald fire into the creature, he could discern only the nature of the ritual involved.

The sheer amount of needed energy in reserve was insane. Even the Dark Horde, with all their land and their many warlocks, had not amassed the energy stores of raw magic in order to do this. The vials of Eternity may have been capable, but those had been lost in preserving the timeline of Azeroth.

Tossing aside his musings mid combat, Nobu'tan refocused on just defeating the Shade and moving on. Perhaps he may yet discover the font of magic that had allowed Illidan to create this wondrous creature.

Releasing himself into the Arcane, Nobu'tan felt magic sing within him. Explosions ripped up the Shade's form, even as Nobu'tan opened his magical core, leeching away the ambient magic to overcharge himself.

With all this excess magic, he hurled bolts in all directions, striking both the Shade, as well as the converging Ashtongue Broken all around. There was enough force behind each missile, that the lesser Draenei were knocked flat, and the Shade was staggered.

Akama took the initiative, slashing the Shade while it was down, delivering a deathblow should their enemy have been flesh and blood.

With a wail, the magic comprising the Shade's body dissipated, wisps of shadows scurrying into whatever darkness they could find in the chamber. Nobu'tan could tell that the Shade was not destroyed utterly, but its power and physical form was gone for now, allowing Akama to take back what was his.

The Broken all around lowered their weapons, the madness controlling their actions gone in a flash. Voldemort and Maiev stepped back, wary but not openly hostile.

"Broken of the Ashtongue tribe, your leader speaks!" Akama said boldly, stepping forward even as his clan crowded around him. "The Betrayer no longer holds sway over us. His dark magic over the Ashtongue soul has been destroyed! Come out from the shadows! I've returned to lead you against our true enemy! Shed your chains and raise your weapons against your Illidari masters!"

"Hail our leader!" one of the Ashtongue shouted, "Hail Akama!"

"Hail Akama," the others echoed, before they scattered, spreading the word and openly rebelling against the demons, orcs, and elves that crowded the Temple's upper reaches.

"It is done," Akama said, turning back to Nobu'tan as his people disappeared once more into the shadows. "The Ashtongue are free, and we will fight with you to overthrow the Betrayer."

"And win back your temple, for good this time," Maiev added, forcefully reminding Nobu'tan of the bargain they had struck.

It was true, he had been tempted to see about taking this location for his own, and tapping the massive well of magic that he suspected was somewhere inside, but… seeing the Ashtongue, and their numbers and precision as they dispatched their enemies, Nobu'tan reconsidered.

Even as the departed the little antechamber back to the main hall, they found only corpses of the Illidari scattered about. Not one Broken had died in their rebellion as far as the Warlock could tell.

He did not wish to try and face off against that kind of threat head on. It would be far simpler to look elsewhere for the power he would need to overthrow the Legion. "Gorefiend lies in the chambers above," Akama said, deducing Nobu'tan's next destination, "I suspect his Shadowmoon are expecting you."

"They should be," Nobu'tan affirmed, turning to the right, where another chamber led to stairs up the southern side of the Temple.

Fel orcs of the Shadowmoon Clan were indeed here, but seeing Nobu'tan approach, they lowered their weapons. "Our master is awaiting you at the vigil," one said as Nobu'tan approached, "none will attempt to hinder you, Chieftain."

Nobu'tan nodded in reply, and led the way for them up to claim his final set of allies inside the Temple proper.

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Lucius was preparing to move their forward command base into the breach in the Black Temple's wall, when he heard an orc shout his new name. Turning, he widened his eyes as he spotted Blaise Zabini, wounded, and being carried toward his location by the assassin Garona Halforcen.

"What happened?" he demanded, already drawing his wand and scanning the injury across the young man's chest. The cut was deep, and he had already lost much blood, but there was something else, festering at the edges. It had the taint of the Fel, but allied far differently than warlock magic.

This was only confirmed as he tried to heal it. Those of Earth had learned that the Fel magic of the Legion didn't respond well to their healing magic. While some things could be eased, especially the Felfire and shadow caused wounds, however, weapons that had been enchanted with pure Fel or other effects had stronger curses on them.

Blaise screamed as Lucius tried to mend the wound, even as it gushed a black sludge, rejecting the magic and trying to make itself worse.

"I… I cannot heal it…" Lucius said, his mind flashing back to the battles on their homeworld, where many had died under the blades of the Legion, hastened to death as their allies had tried to save them.

"We have experience in treating these wounds," the musical voice of the Naaru came to him, even as several Draenei paladins approached, "We shall tend to this one, while you continue the fight against Illidan."

Lucius was about to protest, when he spotted that the Draenei were already chanting their Light-based magic, small sigils of blue light appearing over their heads as the soft yellow glow poured from their hands.

Three of the Paladins placed hands on Blaise's head, pouring their magic into him, while the fourth addressed the wound directly, purifying the cursed flesh and directing the rest into carefully stitching the wound together.

"The northern spur is ours, as soon as the last remnant is cleared away." Garona reported, "I will return and secure the southern rampart so that we can force all our enemies back into their fortress."

Lucius nodded, only partially processing the information, "I trust your judgment in this matter," he said absently, watching Blaise as the boy's disguised face eased from all pain, "and thank you for bringing him back to us."

Garona nodded, all business, and briskly walked away to rejoin the battle.

Lucius quickly waved his wand once more, conjuring a pavilion over the Paladins and Blaise, for privacy of the wounded and just in case the illusion that the young man held faded. Their allies may already know that they were not orcs in truth, but for the sake of appearances, and their enemies in particular, it was better for them to appear part of the Dark Horde in full.

Trusting now that Blaise would survive, and that their forces were not leaderless on the front lines, Lucius allowed himself to return his thoughts to the information that Garona had given him, and his plans to move the command post forward.

They had taken the courtyard, and with Nobu'tan leading the charge into the Temple itself, there was little need to keep their place out here except to guard the trebuchets. He would be leaving the Dragonmaw Feldrake riders for that position, and to keep the skies clear of any attempt at their enemy to push back out into the open.

Most of the clans and their leadership were already moving into the new position, with word for Teg'Ramm that his location was to become their new command center. Lucius quickly sent word for the rest of the leadership of the Dark Horde to move out.

He would linger until it was certain that Blaise could move to the new location. He knew that Nobu'tan was already on edge from the impending conflict with Illidan, for his own personal reasons. Adding the loss of any of their close circle would only tip the young leader over the edge toward a madness that Lucius did not want to see pass on to the lord of the Stormreavers.

Glancing at the towering central fortress, Lucius almost felt that he could sense the presence of Nobu'tan in there, building in power as he ascended to wherever the lord of Outland was holed up in.

"Don't get too far ahead of us, Nobu'tan," Lucius muttered, a small shiver of foreboding entering his blood as he saw storm clouds circling the pinnacle of the Temple.

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Illidan sensed the approach of the warlock. He ought to have been preparing for the worst; at least the glee from the Skull of Gul'dan indicated that he should.

But he was stuck here, watching over his elite demon hunters as they assaulted the Legion world. The distraction of this apprentice of the dead warlock was an irritation, but the fact that he had allied with the Sha'tar and laid siege to his base of operation…

How could they not see that the Legion alone was their enemy? Was it not obvious that his Illidari had only one unifying objective…?

But no, these fools still blindly believed all that they were told. They were so sorely self-justified in their own thoughts of revenge and false justice, that they would eliminate the only one who saw clearly the threat looming over them all.

"You summoned us, Lord Illidan?" an Elven voice said from the direction of the stairs into the upper reaches of the Temple.

The half-demon turned, addressing his Illidari Council. The Blood Elves, those who had abandoned their Prince when he started to reject the gifts and promises that Illidan had given their people, had been among his most trusted advisors, and these four were the mightiest of them all.

"Our enemies are on our doorstep," Illidan said, stating the obvious, "I am contained with the assault on the Legion world, prepare our defenses. I am not to be disturbed." He ordered.

"Of course, Lord Illidan," Veras Darkshadow replied, "We have already marshaled our forces to protect the only route to the uppermost reaches."

"Good," Illidan muttered, devoting a minor amount of attention to gage the threat coming for him. "Order Mother Shahraz to close the door to the Den of Mortal Delights…" he added, "None not already inside are free to pass, and none inside may leave alive…"

"It will be done," Lady Malande said.

"You will not be pleased to learn," Zerevor added, the High Nethermancer frowning, "That Gorefiend has joined our enemies, turning the whole of the Shadowmoon clan to their cause."

Illidan frowned. That was unexpected. He was certain that the old Death Knight would have been easily bound to his will through the Skull of Gul'dan. Death Knights of old could not fight against their masters. Glancing at the skull, Illidan thought he heard a whisper of laughter, but ignored it.

"Unfortunate," he said, "and no word from Vashj," he asked. He knew that there had been conflict in Zangermarsh, where the Naga had been based, but if anyone could survive, it would be the wily Sea witch.

"Nothing, we are isolated. Tempest Keep is not replying at all either." Galthios responded.

Illidan had predicted the latter, but sensed that this Dark Horde had been far busier in his world than he had anticipated.

"Then we stand alone, against this force, and the Legion itself," he said with finality. The Blood Elves nodded, departing to take up their command positions and defend him, while Illidan returned to monitoring his Demon Hunters on their mission.

His momentary lapse had seen to the death of a few of their number, and Illidan chided himself for the lack of attention. Apparently some of them had more perfectly merged with their demonic souls however, and were not totally lost. They could take up their fallen bodies once more, and continue the fight for the keystone.