Starting to get all my irl ducks in a neat little row, and life is starting to feel good again! Another chapter for you all in the meantime, and I hope that you enjoy the continued elaboration of the tale of Azeroth. Until next time, R&R and enjoy! ~F
Chapter 151
The Violet Eye
For all the courtesy of the Kirin Tor, Draco could not help but feel ill at ease when it came to the floating city of Dalaran, even as Arcane power had swirled around them and transported the entire city, people and all, to the frozen continent of Northrend.
It was painfully obvious, to him, that they were caught here in the middle of a struggle for power and influence in the mage's city. The two factions of Elves seemed more than pitted against each other, but the Blood Elves seemed more tolerant of the situation than the other "High" Elves.
Draco had initially thought he had found the worst of this world's bigotry in High Priestess Tyrande and the Night Elves, but these other Elves seemed to eclipse even that level of hatred for other races. The Blood Elves were downright humble in comparison, although that was likely because they too were the target of hatred from these advocates of an Alliance-only Kirin Tor.
Still, the fact that the leader of these wizards seemed to have a keen interest in drawing them into their circle of arcane users, almost oblivious to the fact that the majority of the wizards of earth had become warlocks, was something the Draco wanted nothing to do with.
It also did nothing for their unease to know that they were here, while Nobu'tan landed with the rest of the Dark Horde off the eastern shores of Northrend, and may have had need of his most loyal allies to stand by him.
But that was not going to be possible, Draco presumed, even as the leader of the Kirin Tor arrived at the luxurious tavern that the wizards of earth had congregated around. "Ah, Lords Malfoy, I hope that you and yours were comfortable during the temporal shifting of Dalaran." The Archmage said, approaching Draco and Lucius.
"Yes, we had everything we could possibly need, thank you," Draco replied, keeping things courteous and waiting for the mage to make his move toward what he truly wanted in having them here.
"I am sure that you have many questions as to your presence here with us," the Archmage said, brushing his red hair from his face, "And in order to best explain it, I'd like to invite the pair of you to the Purple Parlor in the Violet Citadel, if you'll come with me presently."
Exchanging a quick glance with his father, Draco knew they had little choice but to hear the leader of the Kirin Tor out, especially if he had the decency to invite them in such manner. "We'd be delighted," Draco replied, rising to follow the man out onto the street.
"As you can readily see," the mage explained as they set off down the path west from the entrance of the tavern, "the Arcane powers everything we do and have here in Dalaran."
"Indeed, there is a great deal of beauty here because of the heavy influx of magic that routinely runs in this city," Draco agreed, watching a bed of enchanted flowers, which would never wilt regardless of age or season.
"Then it would be at least of some interest for you to know that the power of the ley lines across Azeroth have been weakening in recent days," the man continued, reaching the base of the steps up to the main citadel and turning to face them.
"We've sent many scouts up to this continent to locate the source of the power drain, but none have returned." With a crack of his staff on the cobblestones, the mage opened a portal to some room high in the tower of the citadel, and gestured for the pair to lead the way from there.
The two Malfoys entered, seeing the plush room that was seemingly only moderately lived in. "What we've found upon pursuing the elusive answer, however, is much more dire." The mage said finally, as he let the portal close behind him.
"The Scourge?" Draco guessed, trying to find the ultimate end of the man's wheezing waffling about the topics that matter.
"No," the man said, shaking his head, "while that is what we had initially suspected, it seems that it was the Blue Dragonflight themselves, under orders from their lord and father Malygos. They are trying to siphon all arcane magic in the world back into the very font from which it springs, the Eye of Eternity, and deprive us all of its power."
"Aren't the Blue dragons supposed to be protecting magic, not stealing it away and hording it…" Lucius counterpoised.
"So how does that involve us?" Draco asked, driving he point home.
"It seems that the Blue Dragonflight is actively working against any localized bastion of arcane users, such as Stormwind, or anywhere else that the Kirin Tor are operating, preventing our operatives from investigating or simply blocking our abilities to scry altogether." He explained.
For a moment, Draco thought that the Archmage was not planning on getting to the point of what he wanted them for, but the red-haired wizard seemed to notice his look of boredom, and coughed lightly before changing the subject. "Your people on the other hand, being so unfamiliar to Malygos, might be able to seek where the Blue Dragonflight are now congregating, so that we can put a stop to their plans and restore the power of the Arcane to Azeroth."
Well. Their plan made sense to Draco at least. "I presume you do not mean for whoever is selected to go out empty handed of any useful supplies." Draco said, and the Archmage was already nodding.
"Naturally we will assemble anything that might be required to discover this unusual phenomenon." He said, smiling, "We have your help then?"
"I cannot speak for all of our people here," Draco said, "Many wish to see the Scourge destroyed, and return to their homes, nothing more."
"Understandable," the Archmage replied, "but if there are any who would help us with this plight in the meantime, it's not as though the Scourge are going to be assailable until they make the first move in this desolate place."
That gave Draco pause. It was correct, but the trap was not one that he had seen going into the line of reasoning. From the wry smirk on the red-haired mage's face, he had laid his trap quite expertly, and feigned brash ignorance to lull Draco into a false sense of superiority. It was clever, but not something that the second in command of the Order of the Black Harvest was going to allow again.
"I see how you reached your height of authority here," Draco commented, changing the subject, even as Lucius too watched the leader of the Kirin Tor with new awareness. For the ploy to have even fooled his father spoke volumes of the blithe role that the mage had played. He simply did not have the airs of the station he held, and it was clearly something he was aware of.
"It was something less of me reaching it and more of being one of the few who survived the destruction of the city, and worked hard to pull everyone back together." The man said with a shrug, "the addition of the High and later the Blood Elves were just extensions of the same idea."
A warning glance from Lucius told Draco that this was likely the key push that the Kirin Tor leader wanted from their people, and to cease this line of conversation quickly.
"And that leads us to this place," Draco said, turning to look out the window and across the frozen forest, "odd to find woods like this in such a cold environment."
"Yes, the trees are magically infused," the Mage said, glancing out the wide window as well, "I suspect the presence of Dalaran will probably accelerate their growth, with the amount of raw arcane magic that flows from the city."
"It would probably be wise to get scouts and soldier into those trees," Draco continued, keeping the conversation from returning to the state of the city, "get a good lay of the entrances here and where enemies are likely to approach."
"We have means of accomplishing that," the mage replied, "Although I suspect that the Silver Covenant would gladly take up the opportunity to get boots on the ground, as it were."
"Good, do that and we shall inquire with our people if there are any that have a good sense of the arcane and the desire to investigate your mystery with the dragonflight," Draco added, shutting down the conversation and turning toward the mage, looking expectantly for the portal for he and his father to depart.
The mage was frowning, disappointed that he couldn't broach the topic he so clearly desired to, but surrendered the moment to them, and readily opened a portal back to the ground level. "Until later, Archmage," Draco said, even as he and his father crossed through and watched the shimmering blue vortex close behind them.
"A challenging one, this Archmage…" Lucius said, finally breaking his stint of silence, "You handled yourself well, although I don't think he'll be easily deterred until there are members of our people among his precious mages."
"Probably not," Draco agreed, "but he's delayed enough now that we might find someone who would be amiable to becoming a spy here for a long term stay."
"I can think of a few candidates," Lucius said, grinning.
"What level of mayhem are you plotting for these poor fools?" Draco asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Let's just say that perhaps our human people aren't the only ones interested in coming forward to become part of the Kirin Tor here in Dalaran…" Lucius said, his smile refusing to fade.
"I look forward to hearing about what the reaction of these sanctimonious Elves is when ogres walk through these doors requesting entry into their ranks." Draco said, "Alas, as soon as possible I wish to slip away and join Nobu'tan in the east, in order to make sure that nothing too crazy happens."
"That would be wise," Lucius agreed. "There is a strong possibility that he would be drawn into an all-out brawl if the Scourge gets too involved in holding up their march westward."
"Shall I go presently," Draco asked, but Lucius was already shaking his head.
"Not yet," his father replied, "Let's get some extra hands here and the mages contently settled before we leave them to their own devices."
Draco didn't like remaining, but nodded anyway. Nobu'tan wouldn't have too much time to cause enough damage before Draco could get there and reign in any potential wildfires…
At least, that was what he hoped would be the case.
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Nobu'tan hurled another blast of Felfire toward the gaping hole in the fallen necropolis. The undead were pouring out like madden ants from a nest, but it mattered little in the long run. Their forces were too varied and individually powerful for the mindless hordes to overcome, and the leaders of the Scourge vanguard here hadn't mustered the courage to face them.
The Drakari trolls were watching, and so a powerful front needed to be displayed, in order for the Frost Trolls to respect the Dark Horde as a possible ally of any merit. "Push forward! Take the entrance of the ruin!" Nobu'tan ordered.
Predictably, the Balefire clan, along with the Blackrock and Bleeding Hollow, roared in obedience and surged forward, quickly outpacing the rest of their forces in the eagerness to prove themselves to Nobu'tan.
It was apparent to the Grand Warlock, that a rivalry of sorts had erupted between the three largest clans in the Dark Horde, and each wished above all else to become the chosen clan to enforce the will of Nobu'tan.
His Fist, if the situation warranted such a thing, as it were.
Naturally, while the notion was something Nobu'tan had put thought toward, he wasn't in need of such a shock force as of yet. Nevertheless, it would be good to have a set hierarchy among the clans, so that it was well know where one stood among their peers.
He would have to watch the progress of the clans during their Northrend campaign, and make decisions regarding the future from there. With the ogre clan spearheading the attack, the vanguard slammed into the final defenders around the fallen necropolis, shattering their lines and scattering rotten limbs in their wake.
Aside from blocking stray spells from the upper levels of the structure, Nobu'tan himself had little to do but follow in the wake of his armies as they surged into the Scourge fortress. As they entered, the Grand Warlock noted the intense number of webbings and nerubians among the destroyed undead.
"You cannot stand against the Lich King, mortals!" a clattering voice boomed from the upper levels. From the shadows of a parapet, Nobu'tan spied another nerubian, but far different from the crawling creatures they had fought countless times throughout their war on the Scourge. The upright creature towered over even the lesser cousins, and seemed to be exceedingly intelligent in comparison.
But whatever the creature wished to threaten them with, they never heard, as wild cries from above heralded the arrival of a force of Frost Trolls. "Kill de Scourge! For da Drakkari!" the trolls shouted, their axes sailing freely into the remnant undead in the upper levels.
"Drakkari, this will not stop us from stealing the power of your wild gods!" the nerubian shouted, already marshalling the undead around it to resist.
"Dark Horde, aid the Drakkari!" Nobu'tan shouted, taking aim with his wand at the leader, but his shot was blocked by several abominations that were flanking it like bodyguards.
"Come fools, meet your doom!" the creature taunted, "I'm waiting!"
"For de Frost King!" the trolls shouted from above, carving through ranks of undead, even as the Dark Horde pushed for the access points to the upper levels.
"If you kill them, I will simply reanimate their corpses." The nerubian shouted, even as his guards were forced into the fray, opening him up for Nobu'tan's sights. "And when you die, I will do the same to you. Undeath is inevitable!"
"Not if I can help it…" Nobu'tan muttered, followed by the intonation of the death curse.
The green jet flew outward, striking the nerubian, who screeched in agony as the spell seared flesh and set him alight. Curiously it did not outright kill the creature, which told Nobu'tan that the beasts soul was not connected strongly enough to its body for the killing curse to separate them.
The power of this 'Lich King,' was indeed interesting and powerful, in order for him to so effectively desynchronize the body and soul of his victims.
"Destroy the Drakkari! Destroy the Dark Horde! Make Scourge of them all!" the creature cried, backing into the shadows to try and avoid another attack from Nobu'tan, but the warlock wasn't allowing him to escape so easily. Manifesting demonic wings, Nobu'tan propelled himself into the air with carefully projected blasts of Felfire. He rose swiftly to the level of the second floor, and surveyed the chaos that the Frost Trolls were causing.
They had apparently climbed the outside of the Necropolis during the frontal assault of his forces, and were swarming into the windows. Nobu'tan approved of this tactic, and spent a few moments blasting the Scourge forces blocking them before refocusing on the nerubian.
The shadow magic was flying from the spider-creature at the Frost Trolls, which prevent it from seeing or dodging as Nobu'tan released a blast of chaos, which flew out at the beast without interruption or even so much a flickering from its straight-shot path.
The spell exploded gloriously over the nerubian, sending it crumpling into the stone side of the structure, and sending a shudder of magic through the necropolis as the necromantic magic started to dissipate.
Always a fatal flaw of the magic of undeath, Nobu'tan reasoned. The mindless needed their puppeteers in order to continue fighting. Or at least that was what he thought, before the roar of the mindless horde started to sound as the remaining undead in the necropolis started to swarm upward to them.
Seeing the countless undead rushing from every possible entrance would have been unnerving, if not for Nobu'tan already being prepared for a much deadlier fight. Without their leader the undead were just lashing out wildly, and while unexpected they would fight on.
Looking at the Drakkari, who were beginning to flee back out the windows and cracks in the outer walls, leaving the Dark Horde to fight alone, Nobu'tan sighed. Respect might be more difficult to earn than he had suspected.
Landing heavily, Nobu'tan sent out a wave of Felfire in all directions, scorching the skeletons, ghouls, and lesser nerubians surrounding the center of the necropolis' lower floor. "We are done here, their leader is defeated," he announced.
That was the signal that Teg'Ramm and his shaman were waiting for. With a roar of primal fury, they sent their forces into a swelled rage, transforming even the most prudent warrior into a whirling maelstrom of destruction.
Nobu'tan personally lagged behind as his forces surged through the same demolished hole they had entered from. The remnant of the Scourge forces were slow to resurface and attempt to pursue the withdrawing Dark Horde assault force, which gave Nobu'tan ample time to draw the Elder Wand.
Several hasty, complicated runic arrays later, and concussive blasts were shattering the stone pillars supporting the structure. Nobu'tan apparated away, reappearing at the rear command post where the foremost of the army was regrouping.
From there he was able to leisurely watch as the entire necropolis collapsed upon itself, crushing whatever horrors still remained inside. Curiously, the main part of the hold remained relatively intact, and seemed to give off a sinister radiance that was not exactly aligned with the necromantic magic of the Scourge.
Nobu'tan bristled, recognizing the deeper darkness that accompanied the Old Gods among the rubble. If there was another of those hellish beings here in the frozen north, that did not bode well for the Dark Horde, especially their leadership from Earth.
If C'thun's influence or that of some other like the ancient abomination was here, then they were all at risk. The magic of the earth-born wizards was so highly prized by these creatures, that Nobu'tan had a good guess that they would be hunted by any mad followers of the Old God.
But for whatever evil lingered in the rubble of that necropolis, Nobu'tan wanted nothing to do with it. Thrusting a hand skyward, he poured Arcane, Fel, and wizarding magic into a raging torrent of flame. Allowing his anger to consume him, for only a moment, Nobu'tan channeled the Fel-fiend fyre as it slammed downward on the rubble of the necropolis, burning it all, stone, flesh, and frozen ground, in one chaotic conflagration.
Many of the withdrawing army had to shield their eyes from the light as devastating fire revealed the source of Nobu'tan's dread. A massive collection of pulsing, green-black metal ore, almost breathing in a strange semi-living state, began to be consumed.
The rage was all consuming, but Nobu'tan had to hold himself back, allow the anger to pass and the spell to end. The metal was warped and twisted, but mostly had withstood the fire, which was shocking enough. What was more was that the metal seemed to have reeled in pain, screaming like a wounded animal.
Yet another twist that would make this entire venture northward more difficult for Nobu'tan and his people, he thought bitterly. The warlock snarled and turned away, contemplating what threats were waiting for them out in the snowy wastes.
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Jaina gazed up at the statue honoring her mentor, Archmage Antonidas, floating in a secluded courtyard of remembrance for all the mages slain by Arthas and the Burning Legion before the Third War.
She had quickly decided to accept the offer of Khadgar and Archmage Rhonin, to travel northward in the old city that she so remembered, but quickly after walking the streets that she had as a young apprentice, she had needed some seclusion to deal with the wave of emotion that came with seeing the vivid restoration of the world she had known before the threat of the Scourge so many years ago.
This statue seemed incomplete, however, and it saddened Jaina that in time others may forget exact who the leader of Dalaran had been through the entirety of the orcish invasions in the first and second wars. Quickly, she channeled the arcane, and used it as a chisel, etching in writing onto a small flat stone at the base of the floating statue.
'Archmage Antonidas, Grand Magus of the Kirin Tor
The great city of Dalaran stands once again – a testament to the tenacity and will od its greatest son.
Your sacrifices will not have been in vain, dearest friend.
With Love and Honor,
Jaina Proudmoore'
"A fitting tribute to our greatest leader," a voice said behind her as Jaina finished. She turned to see Archmage Rhonin smiling at her from the entrance of the garden.
"I have just finished speaking with your friends, the Malfoys," he explained, "but I'm sure you needed time to adjust to seeing the city as it was again."
"Yes," Jaina said simply, wiping a tear from her eyes. It had been a very emotional reintroduction. "Your workers captured everything exactly."
"Not exactly hard when the designs for the city were locked away in material that couldn't be easily destroyed." Rhonin said with a shrug.
Jaina suspected that there was more that the archmage wanted to discuss, rather than just the reconstruction of the city they had known from their early years learning here, "And you have some need you wish to discuss with me?" she asked bluntly, and Rhonin snorted in amusement.
"Your friends were just as direct with their questions, although I think they did not want to actually speak about joining the Kirin Tor in any fashion." He said, "But Lady Proudmoore, I have something a bit more serious to ask of you."
Jaina could already suspect exactly what the archmage wanted of her, and she felt unworthy, looking up at the chiseled features of her teacher, to step into the shoes that he had once wore, and lead. "I have to think about it, Rhonin," she said, looking back at the archmage, "joining the Council of Six is not a choice lightly made, and there is much that I'd have to wrestle with in managing Theramore…"
Rhonin looked mildly relieved, as though he had been hesitant to even go through with broaching the topic directly. "I understand, Lady Proudmoore," he said, "take all the time you need. I can think of no better candidate than you to finish the council however, and will await your answer before searching for another choice."
It was subtle, but Jaina could tell the pressure that the man had just laid on her. They couldn't rightly proceed with dictating how Dalaran was run without a full council, and if they were waiting for her to decide, that meant that she alone would be responsible, indirectly, if anything happened to the citizens of the Mage city if she did not decide quickly.
Still, she had to reason out the idea in her mind before she could rightfully give any answer. It was how Antonidas had trained her, and she would not turn away from his teachings when it came to the city the old Magus had loved.
Rhonin departed, leaving Jaina to her thoughts. She eventually turned away from the statue of her teacher, looking out across the vast views of Northrend all around the floating city. Demanding her attention above all was the massive spiked silhouette of Icecrown Citadel, jutting upward with its many spikes and parapets.
Something drew her to that haunted place, and Jaina's innate curiosity was certainly peaked. She had always dreaded and yet desperately desired the knowledge of how much of her Arthas still lingered inside the being now know exclusively as the Lich King. But now, seeing the dire citadel so near, she was afraid to even consider what answers lay inside.
"Jaina…" a voice spoke, almost a whisper on the wind, and the Sorceress shuddered. She would be haunted by the memory of the Prince of Lordaeron until she confronted the man once more, or at least what was left of him.
But there was still such a long way to go before they could even dare set foot inside the stronghold of the Scourge, and she was determined to do what she could to speed things along, for all the forces of Azeroth that had come to answer the threat of the frozen dead.
Rumors had circulated about another threat than just the Scourge, coming from somewhere to the west, as blue dragons had been seen attacking anything that approached. She suspected that Rhonin, learning from Archmage Khadgar about the strange powers of the Malfoys and their people, likely had sought them out as added insurance to stop whatever strange plans the Blue Dragonflight had for the magic of their world that they had been siphoning, but beyond that much Jaina was woefully ignorant of the matter.
Then there was the movement of the Alliance for her to consider. Jaina could not yet afford to be neutral, as much as she respected all of the factions, she would default to aiding the Alliance so long as there were no inter-faction conflicts.
Apparently Bolvar had landed to the southwest, and more of their forces had landed eastward, forming a strong two-pronged invasion of the continent.
Jaina trusted the Highlord's judgement on handling the very close relationship that they would have there with Thrall's Horde on that front, but there was a greater concern to the east.
Westguard Keep, under the command of the dwarf Captain Adams, and the site of the original Explorer's League landing before the Third War when Muradin had led an expedition, was situated very close to the Forsaken landing point, as well as south of the Dark Horde's apparent site of choice. There was no one there to prevent conflict from breaking out, and that was where Jaina knew she had to be, in order to merely keep the peace with her presence until all forces were settled and moving inland toward the Icecrown.
Sending a small wisp to tell Rhonin where she had gone, and that she would continue to think on his proposal, Jaina opened a portal to the southwestern fortress, and stepped through briskly, relishing the slightly warmer air so much farther from the center of the Lich King's power.
Her eyes were drawn immediately to the central statue of Muradin Bronzebeard. She had mourned when she had learned, later than most, of the brave dwarf's death when Arthas had claimed the cursed runeblade that led him on his dark path. The fact that no body had been found either only sank the blade deeper, as the dwarves of Ironforge could not hold the ceremonies needed for their fallen hero.
"Ah, Lady Proudmoore," the leader of the fort said, appearing from the main garrison building, "here to see to preventing the Forsaken from accosting us I suppose?" he guessed, and Jaina nodded.
"We all need to focus on the Scourge, and whatever else will prevent us from defeating him, rather than infighting and weakening all our forces to throw at Icecrown," she explained and the dwarf nodded in agreement.
"Aye… that would be wisest, should the rotting husks choose to leave us be as well. We welcome whatever help you hope to give, even if it's just warming our spirits with your cheerful presence," he said, smiling behind his large beard.
"Hopefully something a touch more than just that," Jaina added teasingly, looking out at the forested peninsula that the fort had been built on, "What is needed to help secure our location here?" she asked.
"I can probably find a few things that are worthy of your attention," the Captain said, turning to lead the way back to the garrison. Jaina followed swiftly, wondering what possibly could qualify as 'worthy of her attention.'
HordeHHHHHH
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Blaise knew that the Dragonmaw were dubious and confused at his presence with them as they flew across the Dragonblight toward the region that Nobu'tan had spied as a potential forward base of operations. He did not care of their sentiments, as Nobu'tan had glanced at him specifically as he gave his orders to the Fel orc clan, and naturally they would need someone capable of opening portals back to Blackrock for reinforcements, and Blaise was ideal for the job.
Mercifully, the Fel drakes were intelligent enough to not need outside commands to fly to their destination, which allowed Blaise to channel an eye ahead of their flying forces, and scout out the basin that awaited them.
The area was large enough for the full might of their armies, and then some. The ruins likely held some manner of historical or archeological relevance, but Blaise was more concerned if they held anything of power that could aid them in immediate or future endeavors. The main complex in the northern section of the valley seemed the most likely candidate for such artifacts to be found, as well as the best location for them to settle and prepare their own base.
"We'll land in the northern ruins," Blaise yelled over the howling winds, as much for the benefit on his mount as the other riders around him.
What he had not bothered to mention were the hordes of magical stone golems that littered the ruin, clearly remnants of the original occupants, and all of which became hostile as the drakes and their riders approached. But against the torrents of Felflame from their maws, as well as the magic of what warlocks Zuluhed had brought alongside Blaise, they eliminated all those in the central courtyard, and were able to land and dismount.
"This architecture is unlike anything I've seen in Outland or Azeroth," the orc clan leader declared, looking around them in wonder, "it must be extremely old."
Blaise glanced at the stonework as well, noting that it seemed to hold an inner light in every crack and crevice, giving all of it a strange shimmer even in the dim twilight this far north, "Yes, I cannot imagine that any of the mortal races constructed this place." He agreed, "We need to set up an encampment, scout the perimeter, and establish portals to our other major locations here and back in the Eastern Kingdoms."
"Understood, I will send my best scouts to look around, and warlocks to aid you in opening the portals. Hopefully there is wood enough nearby for the peons to gather some quickly for temporary lodging." Zuluhed declared, turning a moment later to bark the same orders at his clan.
Blaise had long ago accepted the notion of co-leadership on the part of his many missions, and did not pursue the matter of how Zuluhed led his clan. He was here as advisor and to ensure that Nobu'tan's objective was completed, nothing more. Turning to an open area of the wide courtyard, he nodded at the half dozen orcs and Fel orcs that were directed his way, and started channeling the Fel, first to open the way back to their easterly outpost.
The other warlocks lent him the power needed to cross the distant space, and soon the dark vortex was formed out of the air, the grasping hands of the Fel ritual tearing open the wound and granting passage to whoever of the Dark Horde might wish to come.
The goblins were hard at work on the other side, leveling out foundations and prepping the massive beams of wood and stone blocks they had brought with them in the holds of their ships, but a few took note of the portal and nodded at the warlocks that had opened it.
"Good," Blaise said, knowing that in time they may shift the position of the two portals, but for now they had added layers of cross protection on both sides of their campaign, and that was sufficient for their needs right now.
The Blackrock Mountain portal that they had on the isle to the east would be sufficient to supply both bases, and protected from any force that might invade them here in Wintergrasp, as the sequential nature of the portals they would have to travel made success in taking them all more difficult.
Blaise looked around after they had finished, noting that night was rapidly approaching them here in the wintery north. Some scouts had returned, bearing news of other golems and constructs littering the lands outside the ruined fortress, and warriors of the Dragonmaw had been sent to eliminate them.
But what had truly caught the interest of the Whacked was the building before them, sealed off from outside view by a massive, runed gate of stone. There did not seem to be a means of actually opening the wall without destroying it, but even Blaise could sense some manner of magic, primarily arcane in nature, lingering beyond it.
Only moderately interested himself, now that the assignment he had personally was all but complete, Bliase also looked around for some manner of entering the structure.
Neither doors nor windows made themselves apparent to his eye, but there were nonetheless a handful of interesting structures that might have held answers. The chiefest of these was some manner of standing platform, hardly two inches from the ground near the solid wall of an entrance.
If he were to guess, Blaise would say that the platform was some kind of registration or teleportation pad, but it had no power to make it function even if they wanted it to.
"We'd need to find some manner of power source for this, to get in," he said, walking away from the portal and approaching the interesting device.
A cursorily glance of the platform revealed that it was a fairly standard runic array, albeit in a language that Blaise was not familiar with, with clear channels and conduits for arcane magic. Blaise was unable to wield that form of Azerothian magic, nor did the Dragonmaw have any mages among their numbers, however they were not without options left.
A pile of the scrapped golems lay nearby, and the magic of the arcane sang in them even while demolished and shut down. Blaise drew his wizarding wand, and quickly layered several detection charms over the pile, narrowing the pieces that still hummed with the orderly magic.
Levitating out the pieces still holding charge, Blaise lifted his eyebrows at the sight of what would have entailed the 'heart' of several of the golems. The small spheres were etched with similar runes, and while Blaise was not certain that it would be possible, he moved them toward the platform.
The objects themselves did not react, but the magic seemed to shudder within, as though desirous to travel to the active paths that could still make use of its power. Acting carefully, Blaise sliced a miniscule opening in one of the golem hearts, and watched as the purple energy that mages effortlessly channeled poured outward.
The arcane magic flowed in spirals through the air, before diving like a missile into the open collectors around the platform, which sluggishly started to hum to life. The others followed in like manner, each orbs-worth of magic raising the power in the platform before it finally churned to life, the etched rune lines flaring light into the air and starting to rotate around slowly.
"There may be some manner of opening the door from inside," Zuluhed said, calling for a small force of his elite warriors to send in first, "clear away anything that moves and wait for our arrival," he ordered, and the grunts nodded in understanding. They readied their weapons and stepped into the platform one by one, vanishing with a thrumming flash of arcane magic.
Blaise did not wish to wait for long, but withheld himself as long as he felt necessary just in case the grunts had met heavy resistance, before he finally broke and followed onto the teleportation platform, which took him in a rush of magic to a counterpart within the structure.
As suspected, there were dozens of shattered golems littering the ground, all smashed or cleaved into pieces by the axes and maces of the elite Dragonmaw warriors.
"Any sign of some means of opening this door?" Blaise asked, stepping forward and glancing around the chamber.
There was a massive passage onward; leading to a stairway under the mountains behind the fortress, but that was on no interest at the moment to the warlock-assassin. There was a lever, surprisingly lacking any rust or grime, which seemed to be placed in a location indicative of the door controls.
