A bit late today, but couldn't post while at work as things gear up for finals. Great news on the personal front, as my work situation is about to (hopefully) become significantly more stable, and hopefully smooth out some of the painful wrinkles in my life! Still, new chapter is here on the correct day, even if its 10 or so hours after the normal post time. Enjoy! ~F

Chapter 154

Cracked Ice and Shattered Bone

Teg'Ramm was not pleased to be separated from Nobu'tan in this frozen and desolate landscape. Since the attack in the heart of their stronghold, where he had been injured, and only saved from death yet again by the mercy of another, and given yet now a third chance to make sure that the lord of the Black Harvest survived to enact his objectives against their enemies in protecting this world.

But with Nobu'tan going alone with his Stormreavers to escort the Frost Trolls, he felt uneasy. The ogre mage did not trust the Amani and other Forest Trolls, and these Drakkari even less. They wanted blood, Teg'Ramm was sure of it, and they would not take well to the restrain that was required for membership in the Dark Horde.

Nevertheless, he would obey the orders he was given, and be the swiftest to return to his master's side to protect him. Bannok Grimaxe and his Light-oriented clan led the way toward their target, the floating fortress that was surrounded by torrents of the undead menace that infested this snowy place.

Blackrock catapults rolled in their wake, already carrying explosive ordinance for the destruction of the floating nightmare, while Teg'Ramm's brutes and warlocks prepared to level destruction on the mindless minions rampaging around in the devastated ruins.

"For the Light, attack!" Bannok bellowed, leveling his axe to urge their united force forward.

Teg'Ramm roared, funneling the Fel into his commanding shout and followed by the shaman invoking the primal power of fire in the bellies of all their forces. The pounding bloodlust heightened the senses of their forces, and the catapults started to fire and reload at rapid speed.

The molten boulders and canisters of explosive liquids flew through the air, crashing into the floating fortress, raining fire and flammable liquid onto the ramparts and parapets of the necropolis.

Meanwhile, the ogres stormed forward, trampling skeletons and ghouls as they focused on their chief targets: the hulking abominations and vile siege machines of the Scourge.

Slashing one of the massive stitched horrors with his clawed arm, Teg'Ramm stomped his foot, releasing a wave of Felfire in all directions. The undead minions, more like fodder than anything in comparison to the Balefire clan, fell in droves, their flesh and bones being consumed in the demonic flames.

"We need to claim the teleporter, so that we can cut off their reinforcements quickly," Teg bellowed to Bannok, who was fending off a trio of skeletal warriors nearby.

With a cleaving blow, the paladin felled all three, reducing them to ashes as he turned to face the Balefire Chieftain, and nodded.

"Light," he said, concentrating, and almost seeming to speak to his source of power, "give me strength!"

Apparently, to Teg'Ramm's mild surprise, the prayer worked, and Bannok's eyes glowed with the golden light as he reopened them. Taking a running leap, the orc erupted with power, literally shining as he sprouted wings of magic.

The undead all around turned toward the source of the Light, instinctively hating the thing that would utterly destroy their forms, and started to charge after the Paladin.

Teg'Ramm took advantage of their momentary distraction, barreling through their exposed backs and signaling a charge from his forces. They threw themselves from to paved roadway into the thick of the Scourge forces, some shattering even the desecrated trees in their rage. The crunch of bones underfoot was exhilarating, but Teg'Ramm kept his heads. They had a job to do, and the bombardment was starting to push the necropolis away from its ground forces.

If they could at the least force the floating fortress to withdraw, they could erect new defenses to shoot down any attempt to encroach once more. "Take the platform!" Teg'Ramm shouted as soon as the teleporting beacon came into view.

The bubbling pools of blighted liquid were a terrible hazard, but the broken trees were thrown down in them, creating extremely temporary bridges for their warriors to cross before the dead wood was consumed in the acidic goop.

The field commander for the Scourge here, or rather the lack thereof, was disturbing, and Teg'Ramm gazed upward at the shimmering underside of the Necropolis. "No commander, no guards, no reinforcements outside of minor minions…" Teg surmised, allowing Ramm to calculate the information while he watched the battle unfold. A trio of Dawn's Hammer paladins tore apart a gristly abomination.

Slowly, the one-eyed head scanned the immediate area, looking over the pools, and their corresponding locations on the floating fortress. "They will not remain, but we need to depart," Ramm said, "They will pour blight down on us as they flee."

Another quick sweep of the battlefield, and Teg knew that they had driven the undead from this area of the troll's domain. "We need to go, the Necropolis is fleeing," Teg shouted, catching the ear of several members of the other clans.

The Blackrock forces obeyed immediately, withdrawing to their catapults to pack up their weapons and withdraw. The Dawn's Hammer, on the other hand, only renewed their vigor to push the Scourge farther away, and dove in all the further with the zealotry.

"Magic is building in the Necropolis," Ramm warned, "They are preparing to leave."

But even as Teg opened his mouth to call the withdraw command, he spotted several gates opening in the underside of the fortress. The bright green liquid started to surge outward.

"Watch out!" Teg shouted, even as Ramm reacted instinctively, throwing a shield of Fel power and fire above him, expanding it outward and doming it downward to allow the blight to roll off with minimal impact.

The impact of the torrential sludge was tremendous, and Teg grunted as he felt the physical weight of the liquid collided with his projection of force and flame. Around him, many of the warlocks of the three clans had also reacted with shields, conjuring more than enough places for their forces to take shelter.

The paladins continued fighting, and through the haze of the Felflame and Blight, Teg could see the shimmer of their own light-powered shields. The ogre mage closed his ears to the screams of those too slow or foolish to get to safety. At least their deaths would be permanent. There would be nothing for the undead to use to bolster their forces.

"I'll make note of who among our forces is missing, to report our losses to Lord Nobu'tan," Teg said, while Ramm was already channeling a Nether gateway back to their rallying point at the stairs to the upper levels.

Ushering their living forces into the gateway and out of harm's way, the Balefire Chieftain watched the lumber form of the necropolis as it floated away. From the direction it was heading, Teg'Ramm could tell that it was heading for Icecrown, but taking an elongated route that went further north than west.

It was something unusual, and the ogre took note of it. Nobu'tan would want every ounce of information regarding the behavior of the Scourge leadership.

The fact that they were actively avoiding where the Kirin Tor had placed their floating city meant that word had made it back here from the assaults on the other factions. Any advantage that could be found was another weapon for the Dark Horde to use in utterly destroying this threat, which was their purpose in the Lichbane Assault.

Still, Teg'Ramm didn't like just letting their enemy get away with killing so many of their warriors and just floating off to fight against them another day. "Chieftain," an ogre warlock said, and Teg'Ramm could tell from the voice that this warrior too felt the same burning desire for revenge.

"We will not let this horrors live to destroy more of our brothers and sisters in battle." Teg bellowed, getting the attention of every warrior nearby. Several of the Blackrock clan leapt to their feet, wild rage in their eyes. Together, the orcs threw themselves at the nearest catapult, shoving with all their might to push it further into range, pursuing the slowly fleeing flying fortress.

"Brave fools…" Teg'Ramm said, seeing that their recklessness had inspired others to abandon going for the portal to safety and take up their weapons.

"For Vengence! Blood and Thunder! Lok'Tar Ogar!" Ramm bellowed, releasing the magic on the portal and seizing his staff.

The assembled warriors roared, the battle cries howled upward as the pursued the Necopolis. More warriors threw their backs into pushing the catapults into range, even as ogre brutes grabbed whatever was nearby to load them.

The catapult fired, even as it was still moving forward, and the projectile arced into the air, smashing into the side of the flying stronghold of undeath.

"Join me," Teg'Ramm said to the nearby warlocks, beckoning their power in the Fel.

Together they quickly started a joined Fel ritual, and the Ogre mage guided their magic into the depth of the most chaotic of spells. A volatile missile formed, fed by all their energy, and swelled to a massive size.

The tricky part was containing that kind of energy, while still keeping it unstable and ready to rip through whatever it came into contact with once hurled at their intended target. Glancing up at the retreating fortress, Teg sized up their foe's weak point. There was a massive crystal, brimming with passive magic at the base of the necropolis, which was what kept the thing aloft.

Normally, there would be little that anything short of a direct bombardment of many siege engines to even scratch the surface of the crystal, but if they could bring it down, that would snuff out any chance of them bringing word back to their masters in the north.

Once he felt that any more power would cause the orb to self combust, Teg'Ramm heaved the orb upward, allowing the tethers to the other warlocks to dissipate. The bolt of immense magic launched upward with great force.

The crystal had no chance against the sheer destructive power. It shattered into pieces, raining down in a cloud of shards. The chain reaction was even more glorious. Explosions rocketed through the necropolis, smoke billowing from many interior hallways.

The fortress started to lose altitude fast, but it was still getting away. The catapults got a few more shots off before the necropolis got out of range. But the damage done to it was more than enough to stop it from being able to escape to the north. The base of the flying structure clipped the top of the mountain ridge, knocking it into a tight rotation, and plunging the entire structure onto the far side of the wall of stone and snow.

"They will not escape our wrath," Teg'Ramm said, even as the others cheered their victory. With the necropolis destroyed, they could return to the fallback point and regroup with their forces that withdrew earlier.

Tearing open a new nether gateway, Teg'Ramm led the way through this one, reuniting the three clans alongside the Shadowmoon at the stairs.

"You are the first to return, Lord Balefire," Gorefiend said,the Death Knight looking out over the swarms of minion undead still trying to scale the stairs.

Teg'Ramm knew that it was a perfectly logical outcome, their target was closest and they had siege weapons with them, unlike the others, but he still felt uneasy that Nobu'tan hadn't returned.

He was about to ask of the Stormreaver Clan's movement, when a shuddering explosion to the northeast turned all heads toward the other necropolis. "I was not aware that those clans had brought any explosives with them…" Teg said, even as Ramm silently focused on the burst of magic.

"Nor I," Teron agreed, equally disturbed, "but we should prepare, the Scourge are rallying for another assault."

"Yes, and perhaps prepare a strike force to reinforce Nobu'tan and the troll clans." Teg added, already gesturing for his warriors to take to the stairs.

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

Voldemort smirked as the first of their experimental canisters exploded brilliantly against the necropolis. With the two Fel orc clans and the paladins of the Argent Crusade taking the brunt of the melee fighting, the Blightbringers had been placed into a support role in the conflict under the flying fortress.

So, the lord of the Death Eaters had decided to test their new Anti-plague to try and demolish the floating necropolis from within. While the others fought to push the Scourge away from their teleporting platform, Voldemort's clan shepherded several undead horses, pulling a wagon loaded down with not siege equipment, but canisters of the bright blue liquid they had been experiment on in the bowels of Karazhan.

Stacking them onto the platform, a timed trigger was placed before the lot was sent upward through magic into the core of the citadel.

Then all they had had to do was wait. Several tense minutes of slaughtering the mindless corpses that tried to retake their position later, the explosions rocked the stronghold above them, sending rubble flying from the sky, and sending the entire thing slowly crashing to the ground.

The entire structure started to spin, altering its trajectory from straight down on their position, and sending it careening off onto its sides toward the northern mountains.

The problem with that was, as soon as it finally settled, snow and dust surging all around it, the horrid cries of the countless abominations within could be heard. The undead started swarming out of its depths, eager to rend any flesh that they could find, and bee lining toward the position of the three Dark Horde clans and the Argent paladins.

If that wasn't bad enough, there was another long line of the skeletal and ghoulish warriors storming toward the upper terrace, where the ancient Death Knight and his Shadowmoon Clan held the line of their supplies. They needed to stem the tide of enemy forces and quickly move to secure the choke point to the upper levels. If they were forced back from that point and the Scourge reinvaded the upper levels, they would have to fight tooth and nail to regain control of the region.

Beheading a lunging skeleton, Voldemort spun into the path of a charging abomination. The hulking creature was swinging wildly, chains flailing as it pushed its way through the assembled forces.

Voldemort however, would not be moved. Aiming Blightbringer, the Dark Lord released a blast of necromantic power. Filled with all the power of his icy hatred, he was unsurprised that it tore the stitched horror apart, limbs and gore flying in all directions.

"Send a runner back, head off those Scourge forces and get the trebuchets firing at that downed necropolis!" Voldemort shouted.

Word spread quickly, and a Fel orc wolf rider was dispatched, speeding back toward stairs to send word. Now all they had to do was hold out until the fortress was destroyed and the undead flood quelled.

Meanwhile, to buy them more time, warriors from both the Bonechewer and Bleeding Hollow clans dashed across the soot-covered snow, eager to head off the charge of the Scourge trying to cut off their withdraw to protected regions of the territory.

Voldemort rallied his necromancers and Death Knights, trying to cause as much chaos among the forces trying to overtake their location, and looked to where the Argent Crusaders had gone. They were not terribly difficult to find.

The flashes of light magic in the direction of the fallen necropolis told the former Dark Lord all he needed to suspect of their movement. Rather than fall onto the defensive and hold the position they had already won, the paladins and priests of the Light had pushed onward, driving like a wedge into the oncoming tide of enemy undead, splitting their forces as they drove forward.

That would explain why they had not been immediately overrun by countless mindless warriors and their masters, but Voldemort was certain that even the Paladins would need support if they thought to be victorious in their foolish charge.

The distant whoosh of large objects flying overhead split his undead flesh as he smirked, watching as large chunks of rubble and explosives rained downward from far behind them.

The projectiles landed with great force, punching holes in the already shattered husk of a stone fortress, and despite this sending the undead into a greater rage, increasing the number spilling from inside, the explosive canisters from the rear line trebuchets did their work to incinerate many of the fodder Scourge as they emerged from their collapsing hive.

"Quick, we must turn and route the remainder before they reach the stairs," Voldemort instructed, "the rest will come to us or disperse as the Argent Crusade and Ebon Blade deal with them."

The Fel orc clans seemed to want to continue fighting here, but they heeded his council. And it was good that they did, as Voldemort knew that they would be surrounded easily by the rampaging horde of undead, and while they would potentially destroy all the Scourge forces regardless, they would take unnecessary losses. They could accomplish the same just as easily elsewhere, with more healers and support forces to back them in their fight.

Turning quickly, he arranged his clan to guide the carts back toward the upper terrace, and hoped that the rest of their objectives here were completed soon. He couldn't stand these snow-covered lands, and the stench of troll was starting to weary him.

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

Jaina was concerned.

It wasn't about the presence of the Forsaken in the Howling Fjord, as they spent the majority of their energy fighting the Vrykul that dwelled in the center of the region, and attacked anyone that drew too near. Nor was it the strange undead that raided the coast, appearing like the same monstrous men, but covered in sea kelp and commanding powers over mist and water.

No, what bothered Jaina was the constant symphony of magic that she felt thrumming through the ley lines of Northrend. Arcane was waning there, likely because of the strange happenings that the Kirin Tor were already investigating, but there was also a surging touch of deep void magic that she could not place.

There were no great shadow magic users, even among those darker casters of the Dark Horde. It was a puzzle that she did not know how to even begin solving, but it clearly was somewhere deep in the continent and not centered on the Ice Crown Citadel, where she would have suspected any source of darker magic would be centered here.

Not that the unending torment from her memories of Arthas had abated in any degree, focusing on some simpler tasks in helping establish the outpost for the Alliance in these strangely fertile lands.

She was just out, gathering the little golden clovers that were needed for the alchemists of Valgarde, when she staggered at the surge of Fel magic that erupted north of the region. It had the distinct taint of the Dark Horde, and the quantity could only be cause by a direct battle of some large measure.

Quickly cutting the last clovers that she had most recently found, Jaina conjured an arcane observer and sent it north, even as she returned to the Keep to return the herbs. She would not disappear without fulfilling her obligation to help, and after promising to return as swiftly as possible, she turned all her attention to what the familiar could see.

It had barely started over the mountains north of the Grizzly Hills, before a barrier of magic started to resist the passage of the familiar, striving to consume the arcane keeping its wisp-like form together.

Quickly memorizing the nearest safe spot on the mountain, Jaina teleported to the same location, and landed carefully on the rocky ground. Dismissing the familiar before the magic was completely lost; she turned to the north, following the distant sound of battle. The mist blocking her sight dispersed with a casual wave of her staff, and Jaina had to repress a gasp at the sight below.

She had been made aware that this region, Zul'Drak, was part of the ancient troll empire, but the clear size of the terraced city was impressive. The entire lower section was blackened and swarming with legions of Scourge forces, but there was a visible source of resistance pouring down from the upper sections of the city.

But what she had focused on was the crashing necropolises, the massive fortresses being brought down by great blasts of magic and destructive explosions from within. Despite these great surges of various destructive powers, they were not the source of the Fel that she had sensed. Turning toward the west, she focused on the boarder outpost along the same mountain range she stood atop.

"There you are," she said, at last locating the Grand Warlock of the Stormreaver's aura of Fel magic. What he was doing there, rather than in the midst of his army was something of a puzzle itself, but even as Jaina started toward the fortress, a flare of necromancy surged from the pinnacle of the ziggurat-like temple. A figure was there, seeming to use the power to raid some manner of skeletal winged serpent.

Meanwhile, another burst of Fel magic flared from beneath the structure, as though Nobu'tan was already locked in combat with something else, but whatever it might have been was drowned out by the overwhelming power of demonic magic that Nobu'tan released. In any case, Jaina pitied the poor fool to have become faced with such an onslaught.

She was torn between investigating anything that the Dark Horde was up to, either with their large engagement on the field of battle or here in this remote outpost, but in the end she felt that it would be more of a risk to move from that spot. There she stood, a silent witness to the carnage that unfolded as the Scourge forces threw themselves on the Dark Horde's warriors, and the burning flame of the Grand Warlock surged through the lowest regions of the mountain keep.

Smirking slightly, Jaina thought fondly of Nobu'tan, when he fought with the Alliance forces back in Silithus so long ago. "You never do anything by halves, do you?"

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

Nobu'tan was almost disappointed with the lich he had discovered in the bowels of the Keep. Clearly this Lich, despite being given the gift of sentient undeath by its master, was not terribly powerful on his own, most of the magic he had sensed wafted from the ritual that the creature was enacting, rather than magic it held within itself.

"The chill that you feel is the herald of your doom!" the Lich said, clearly misreading the hesitation to engage that Nobu'tan was feeling. It wasn't out of fear, but exasperation at the lack of challenge that he had thus far seen.

The Lich King must not have thought much of the Drakkari, or else he had another, greater general in mind for leading his assault of their upper levels of fortress, as this was beyond pathetic.

"Sigh, if I must erase you from existence, I suppose I can lower myself to do it." Nobu'tan finally said, stepping forward and allowing a flare of Fel magic to ignite his hands and arms in green flame.

That was the trigger that the Lich needed to take him seriously. A shield of antimagic rose around him, even as the Lich continued his summoning ritual. "Bolster my defenses! Hurry curse you!" he called, real fear in the undead voice.

A torrent of skeletons and other minion undead came hurtling down the stairs from an upper terrace, called by the magic of the ritual, but Nobu'tan reduced them to ashes with a wave of his Felflame-coated arms.

From across the room, a necromancer acolyte rushed in, eager to prove himself to his master and channel magic into one of the four pillars surrounding the Lich, to give him more magic to work with, but Nobu'tan snuffed the little remaining life from the human's robed body with a quick spell.

With each wave that crumbled before Nobu'tan, the Lich seemed to become more fearful, almost panicking by the time his fourth servant fell after trying to enhance his defensive shield. The taxation of all the magic soon became evident, as the shield collapsed and took the ritual with it, which Nobu'tan could only guess was to try and raise all the dead around the Keep at once, creating an army of undead trolls for the Scourge to use against the Drakkari rather than their own forces.

"Surely you can see the futility of it all!" the Lich said, backing away and trying to throw a series of icy bolts at Nobu'tan, but the Felfire armor he wore absorbed and devoured the magical ice as soon as they made contact.

"No, I really can't," Nobu'tan countered, stepping closer to the Lich, "I believe from where I stand, here and now, I have more power than you, little lich."

"Your efforts are in vain." The lich said, already growing desperate, "The Lich King will be victorious. In the end, death will come for you all!"

"I've faced greater threats that your precious Lich King," Nobu'tan rebutted, stepping forward and bringing his bubble of green flame even closer to the frightened undead creature. "I've stared down the mighty Kil'jaeden, the demon who created all of you…"

The lich laughed, a high and nervous sound considering the nearing flames that were beginning to scorch the frayed robes that the skeletal form wore. "The Burning Legion is not our creators…" he hissed, "we serve a greater power."

"I don't care…" Nobu'tan said, releasing the withheld Felflame. The emerald fire unwove from him like coiled snakes, striking the Lich with great force, consuming him until nothing but ashes remained.

Only when the undead was completely destroyed did Nobu'tan turn back, giving the shrill whistle that signaled the all clear to the Amani and Drakkari trolls that had come with him into the lower levels.

King Malakk had taken some of his warriors, along with War Master Voone and some Hex priests, to start clearing the outer terraces, their skills in climbing allowing them to scale the walls with ease rather than delve into the depths of the Keep.

Nobu'tan had taken some more of the Frost Trolls, as guides, as well as several Amani berserkers, and Kazara'jin, the second in command to Chieftain Daakara.

While unfamiliar with this particular troll, Nobu'tan could respect his fighting spirit, and complete lack of fear with working with a warlock of Nobu'tan's caliber. If anything, the Troll champion had leapt at the chance to follow the leader of the Stormreavers into battle, and had personally selected the Amani trolls that would accompany them.

"It'em be lookin' like ya took care o' dat one, boss man," Kazara'jin said, sidling up to Nobu'tan and gazing at the pile of ashes that had once been the Lich.

"Nothing of value lost," Nobu'tan said dismissively, turning his back on the ash heap. Hex Priests and Shadow Hunters may take some of the ashes for their spells and brews, but he had no interest in such ingredients.

The stairs that the Lich called his undead reinforcements down was a dead end, leading to a massive body pile, probably from the slaughter as the Scourge originally took control of the Keep. It may have led somewhere, but if there was it would take too long to dig through the slain Drakkari and undead forces to find it.

"Let's move on," Nobu'tan said, turning toward the other small passage, where necromancers had come when the Lich called for aide. There had to be accommodations for beings there, if the still living servants were there.

And indeed, the subsequent chamber had been turned into temporary living quarters, although how the necromancers had dealt with the excessive, overlarge bats that swarmed the ceiling and cubby holes along the walls was anyone's guess.

"What's that way," Nobu'tan sked, turning to the next passage onward, which seemed to head out to an open terrace.

"Da raptor pens." A Drakkari guide replied.

"Unlikely that the Scourge dealt with much there," Nobu'tan said, musing, "What's beyond that?"

"Stairs to da upper terrace, and da top o' the fortress…" the guide explained, "Where da Prophet Tharon'ja would reside."

"That's a Loa, correct?" Nobu'tan asked, unfamiliar with the Troll's culture and their living avatar gods.

The troll nodded, and Nobu'tan started toward the passage, "It would be a power source too tempting for the Scourge to just ignore. We need to check it out."

"Right behind ya, Bossman," Kazara'jin shouted, already jogging to catch up to the warlock.

As they exited, undead Drakkari turned toward them, hissing commands for their still living raptors to attack. "Control your beasts," Nobu'tan commanded the Frost Trolls, "we will eliminate the Scourge."

Unleashing a wave of fire, Nobu'tan targeted and struck down one after another of the undead trolls, trying to leave as much of the strange foliage alive and the raptors along with it.

If they could spare the mounts and beasts of the Drakkari, they would be all the stronger for it when they inevitably joined the Dark Horde.

That was when the ground shook under the shifting of a massive foot. A devilsaur, the massive lord of raptors and other ancient creatures rounded the corner of the terrace, bending low to snap up one of the undead trolls in its massive maw.

"King Dred lives!" the Drakkari cheered. Handlers ran forward, calming the tamed Devilsaur and coaxing it away from the foreign scents of Nobu'tan and the Amani. The beast did not want to go, but reluctantly allowed the group to pass. It did stamp its feet furiously as Nobu'tan drew near, and the warlock could tell that the beast had some level of sensitivity to foreign magic, which was rare for bestial creatures, even one as large and old as this.

Several of the Frost Trolls broke off of their party, staying to keep the beasts contained and calm while the rest mounted the stairs to the upper levels. Battle was already raging, Frost King Malakk and his group already hotly contending with undead Drakkari and other hulking Scourge brutes.

"Took ya long enough!" the Frost King taunted Nobu'tan, even as the warlock blasted away the skeletal foe that the Troll warlord was facing. "We be startin' ta tink dat you being slain by da Lich below."

Nobu'tan refused to react, even though the irritation about the Drakkari already knowing exactly what lurked in their fallen Keep irked him greatly. "There were complications aside from that pathetic undead lackey," He said instead.

"Oh," Malakk replied, feigning interest as he spun sharply, planting an axe in the skull of a raised troll corpse, "We be eager ta hear it."

"It's not overly relevant right now," Nobu'tan said, teasing the mystery, "just consider it to be an excellent surprise when we finish clearing this pinnacle."

The Troll king laughed, "Well, den we be better gettin' to da top, and defeatin' the raised monster dat dese Scourge be cookin' up."

With that, Malakk charged into the fray, cleaving several undead aside as he motivated his forces forward. Nobu'tan fell into a support role, countering Scourge magic with both Arcane counter spells and his wizarding wand.

They ascended two more flights of stairs, slaughtering the undead as they encountered them. At the pinnacle, just ahead, Nobu'tan spotted a flash of movement, and something like raspy flapping of wings.

"No…" Malakk said, even as they came into view of the highest point.

A large, skeletal winged serpent was there, fanged skull dripping with ancient venom and fluttering around as though still covered in feathers.

"Tharon'ja sees all!" the creature shouted, blue flames dancing in its empty eye sockets. "The work of mortals shall not end the eternal dynasty!"

"Da Prophet is dead," one of the Drakkari said, and Nobu'tan stepped closer to the Frost King.

"Your fallen prophet serves the Scourge. He must be destroyed." He said quickly, raising his hands and pulling on the Fel within him.

"Your flesh will serve Tharon'ja now!" the creature intoned, striking forward, and trying to clamp its jaws down on the nearest Ice Troll.

A wave of the Elder Wand yanked the warrior back, and the snap of the fangs was all that was heard before the Trolls rallied and charged forward.

The undead creature was strong, but Nobu'tan could sense the limits of its power because of the curse that undeath had placed upon it. Even as the Trolls gave battle to their fallen Loa prophet, he sized up the being, casually blocking bolts of shadow magic as the winged serpent spit them out at ranged warriors and shaman of the two troll tribes.

And then he found the fatal flaw. The location where the beast had been slain, a glaring pierce wound in the sternum, leaked necromantic magic in droves, which the fallen prophet sought to replenish through the vitality of those it fought.

That was its weakness, that dependency, and Nobu'tan leveled a great force of Fel magic to lock down that power completely.

"No!" the serpent bellowed, "A taste… all too brief!"

The internal magic tried to wrest and squirm out of his control, but Nobu'tan clamped down tighter. "Im…impossible!" the beast declared, and Nobu'tan rolled his eyes. He was getting tired with his enemies thinking that they were so powerful, when everything had a weakness. "Tharon'ja is eternal! Tharon'ja… is…"

But Nobu'tan was not allowing it another word, or attack, or spell, from that beast. The entire skeletal form burst into Fel flames, a vortex of green fire spiraling upward and causing all of the Trolls to flinch back in fear.

Even though the creature was still thrashing about, trying to escape the Fel torrent, Nobu'tan caused loose blocks of stone from the Keep summit to fly into the air. They converged into the flames, and the shattering of bone rang through the blaze.

The entire corpse collapsed to the roof of the structure, and the flames died down at a word of command from Nobu'tan.

"The Scourge forces here are defeated," he stated, glancing at King Malakk, "Now we can launch a powerful counter-assault to drive the last of their forces from lowlands, and finally free Zul'Drake for good."

"It'em be a long slog to be clearin' the last o' da Scourge," Malakk said, frowning, "If'in we only be havin' mounts ta ride, den we would be swift to round dem up and slaughter dem."

"That," Nobu'tan said, smirking at the Troll as he turned to face the Grand Warlock, "is something that I can provide, alongside my little surprise."

As though knowing that it had been referenced, from somewhere below, a distant roar of the Devilsaur echoed up to their ears.

Malakk raised an eyebrow in understanding, and adjusted his stance to something more relaxed. "We be ridin' ta war!" he declared.