Apologies for the tardiness of the chapter, new job as a teacher is sapping as much of my time as it can, and I was locked up for the entire morning and forgot the day before. Nevertheless, here it is at last! Please Enjoy, and give me all the precious feedback that you will! ~F
Chapter 160
Angrathar, the Wrathgate
Tyrande didn't have to wait as long as she suspected, for news of other Emerald portals to reach her from across the world. Adventurers in the Eastern Kingdoms had encountered the same portal structures, one in the northern Hinterlands, and another within the central mountains of Duskwood.
However, while these had the same infestation of corrupted green dragonspawn, there had been no sign of a large guardian, and the arches that formed the portals had been dormant. Whatever had been going on there had not started trying to fully spill forth from the Dream itself as of yet, and hopefully, if the High Priestess was correct and they acted quickly, it never would.
However, as it stood, she was not sure if they would have the ability to venture again into the Dream to search for Malfurion, as no active portals had been discovered. Those she had set to watch the gateway in Feralas had reported that the arch had also gone dormant, meaning that they couldn't return by that route and search for an alternate pathway to find her Beloved.
The added tension flowing down from the north was setting all the people of Darnassius ill at ease, and Tyrande was not sure what she could do to alleviate her people of the pressing fear that the threat of the Lich King created. She would not lead her people to war again, when they had still as of yet recovered from the effects of the Battle of Mount Hyjal, and the terrible price they had paid to save the world from the Defiler.
"Minn'do," Shandris said, appearing at Tyrande's side as she sorted through the affairs of their nation within the Temple of Elune. "A new report out of Ashenvale… an Emerald Portal has been found… active…"
The leader of the Night Elves had to hold her hands steady as she took the written report, which detailed the location in the northeastern section of the forest, nearest to the pass into Azshara, and dangerously close to the Horde's lumber facility. Many battles had been fought there, and while an uneasy truce had been declared in light of the advent of the Scourge and the Northrend campaign, Tyrande knew that leading a force in that direction would cause many eyebrows to raise on both sides of the conflict.
She did not wish for the Horde to learn of the reasons they had interest in these portals; however, to have them investigate it first would be equally disastrous. "We need our swiftest and subtlest warriors to make their way to this location," she instructed her daughter-in-all-but-blood, and started charting a safe pathway that would lead their forces to the desired place without drawing attention. "The Horde will be watching if we use the roads, or anything that resembles as offensive force going near their lumber mill."
"I still say that we ought to push them right out of Ashenvale altogether, now that their armies are elsewhere," Shandris stated, the resentment in her voice palpable.
"Normally I would agree with you, daughter," Tyrande said, "but it would not look well upon us to interfere when they are aiding us all against the Lich King."
Shandris did not seem convinced, but let the matter drop nonetheless. Tyrande could not fault her for her frustrations. The orcs had brought nothing but pain and suffering since they landed on the shores of Kalimdor all those years ago, but it was fate that had brought them, and their aid had been invaluable in thwarting one catastrophe after another since then.
If not for the events surrounding how they had taken their corner of Ashenvale, the Night Elves might have allowed the Horde to do careful harvesting of that growth that needed to be cleared away for the sake of the forest, but they could do little about their presence at the current moment without massive repercussions politically.
"We shall focus our efforts on the Dream Portals, and leave the Horde to another day," the High Priestess said with finality, dismissing the general of the Sentinels to gather what forces she felt would be most useful for their new mission.
Tyrande did not know what to expect from this new portal, or if it would be a trap set for them by Xavius, but she could not risk missing any opportunity to free her Beloved from the Saytr's grasp, and return him to her side, and the side of her people in this ever changing world.
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Sylvanas felt that something was out of place. Gazing across the parapet of the ruins of Lordaeron's Capital City, she felt more than saw a shifting of the air. Somewhere, battle was stirring, and the result would change the course of everything. She did not know how she could tell this, but even in her undead state, she simply knew.
"Dark Lady," one of her rangers said, appearing at the foot of the stairs leading to the parapet, where Sylvanas often took to in private moments of contemplation, "Undead have surged from the Wrathgate, and are colliding with the unified force of all factions gathered there,"
Nodding to herself, Sylvanas acknowledged the affirmation of what she had sensed. "Putress knows what is needed to be done at the Wrathgate, and how the Forsaken will respond. Ready our fleet off the coast and prepare for my arrival."
When the opportunity to strike at the Lich King made itself apparent, the Grand Apothecary knew what action he had to take, and what it would mean for himself, his little conspiracy, and the Forsaken at large. Sylvanas had to be well away from the Undercity before Varimathras took his grasp at power.
The demon was not as subtle as he thought himself to be. Sylvanas was well aware that he had usurped her authority for the majority of the Apothecaries in her faction, and was working with them to try and spread the same plague that Arthas used to destroy the living. The only reason she permitted it to continue was that they were also making the same plague affect the undead, and the potential to use it against the Scourge was just useful enough to have a need for it.
Nevertheless, that usefulness was about to meet its end. The plot was already made known to her by her Dark Rangers. During the siege, Putress was going to use their plague on all three factions, trying to eliminate high leaders of both Hordes and the Alliance, as well as whatever leader the Scourge put to the field if possible, before withdrawing to take control of the Undercity themselves and fight against all living.
Sylvanas couldn't have such rebellion underfoot, but at the same time she could appreciate the initiative of the act to eliminate so many of her enemies at once. The only pity was that the plague ruined any change of raising them once more as Forsaken, obliterating the bodies and utterly killing whomever it touched. Granted, that would also prevent the Lich King from taking control of those same leaders, so there was a silver lining to it all.
Still, she had planned to be on the sea at the time that this happened, so that when Thrall and the other leaders turned on her to demand justice, she had plausible deniability of any knowledge of this attack. None would counter her story, and there would be plenty of evidence planted to condemn the Dreadlord and his accomplices of acting under their own volition, without the Banshee Queen's knowledge.
While she did not believe all would be fooled, enough doubt to prevent her people from being utterly destroyed would be present, and the Forsaken would emerge from this crisis with at least a few of their detractors removed from the board.
She already had plans for what their next moves would be. Strengthening New Agamand and preparing for their own push into Icecrown was at the top of her list, but otherwise all other efforts would be sent eastward into the Plaguelands, fortifying the region for the Forsaken, and cutting off any attempt by others to enter.
With the main access from the river cut off, there was only the pass up from the Hinterlands to be concerned with. Luckily, few were aware of such mountain passes, and they were easy enough to monitor. Sylvanas had established various watch posts for that purpose in the wake of the withdrawal of Naxxramus from her lands years ago.
The fact that the Dark Horde Death Knight had done so much toward helping her secure the lands from the remnants of Lordaeron only made it so much easier for her to make a fortress out of the ruins of Tyr's Hand, and the Scarlet Crusade encampments that had been crushed from Tirisfal Glades eastward.
No living remained, aside from the Argent Crusade based in both Light's Hope and Hearthglen, which allowed Sylvanas to have full access to clearing the region around the ruins of Stratholme of the Scourge forces that were left behind. The city would be reinhabited, eventually, and become a bastion for her people in the event that they needed to withdraw from the Undercity for any reason.
Case and point, as prelude to a supposed coup perpetrated by a Dreadlord and the Apothecary society against the Banshee Queen… certain individuals of the Forsaken were already moving in secret eastward, taking back those villages and settlements that had been abandoned in preparation for a hopeful surge in the Forsaken's numbers.
Of course, all of that hinged on the secret research team that was still stationed at the ruins of Scholomance, with Helcular scouring through whatever tome or lore that her Dark Rangers could get their hands on for him. Some of the items he desired were at Dalaran, which while floating in the sky over Northrend was not as terribly secure as the mages thought it was, and certain Forsaken arcanists had been enlisted to go procure those items for a series of go betweens that would make their way back to the necromancer.
Others would be trickier. The libraries of Karazhan were more or less inaccessibly to the Frosaken, so long as the Dark Horde ruled the region. They had plenty of necrolytes and undead roving the Deadwind Pass guarding access to their southern holdings, and the tower itself was home to their clan of Death Knights, with which their leader was already aware of much of what Sylvanas was capable of.
She had little doubt that there would be measures enough to prevent her people from infiltrating that tower and lifting precious knowledge, presuming that it was even still there, and not moved into Blackrock Mountain altogether.
No, those scrolls and spellbooks Helcular would just have to do without for the time being, until a better opportunity was found, or an alternative was discovered. Still, Sylvanas felt that there was something to his plan to open up portals into the lands of the dead directly, and bring forth the souls they needed to raise Forsaken without having to risk more mindless Scourge.
Granted, there was another option. The crown of Domination rested upon Arthas' head, and with it, control over the entirety of the Scourge, mindless and willed…If Sylvanas claimed it, she could have all the power to bolster her people that she dreamed of, and then some…
She did not wish to dwell on that course of action for long; however, as coming into direct confrontation with Arthas at the height of his power, while thrilling and pleasing to the vengeful side of her being, was not wise. Whether she liked it or not, there was little to do but bide her time for a more opportune moment, and make sure that she and her people were within striking distance when it arose.
Plans within plans, and she could only wait to see which of them provided fruit first. Before any of that, unfortunately, she had to prepare for the possible fallout from those plans already set in motion.
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Blaise swatted down another fleet of biting, flying insects, even as his group of trolls and assassins continued their battle with the subterranean nerubian king. The beast was trying to bash his way through them, using both arm scythes and the crown spike to try and impale anyone that got too close.
Luckily for their side, they were all nimble and swift, and had therefore avoided most of the more dangerous wounds. Nevertheless, a few had fallen, although Blaise could sense that they yet lived. He had used magic to maneuver them away from the trampling legs of the beetle-like undead, even as his rampage continued.
Again, the hulk of a monster tried to dive below the surface of the sandy platform, but Blaise was prepared. The last time there had been a torrent of hideous spikes that erupted upward when the beast had submerged, but now Blaise twisted his wand, solidifying the ground and causing the creature to crash headfirst into it mid attempt.
The Nerubian staggered, stunned momentarily, allowing the other fighters a chance to actually strike at the creature, their blades, axes, and spears carefully applied to the rotten flesh barely visible under the armored exoskeleton.
The creature bellowed in muted agony as it shuffled away from the stinging weapons. "We will never be free of him!" he bemoaned, even as the beast tried to continue lashing out, but steadily the Dark Horde forces pushed him back to the very precipice of the platform.
"I doubt that," Blaise countered, snapping his wand around as he shot spells across the front of the beast's carapace, splashing damage to the platform around him. The destabilization tactic worked flawlessly, and with a rapidly fading screech, the creature teetered over the edge, and fell into blackness.
"Anub'Arak has fallen, my brothers!" a new voice shouted, even as living nerubians appeared, slinking downward on webs or else following down the path that the Dark Horde had taken to this place, "Rise from the depths and reclaim our birthright!"
"Slayers of the Traitor King, we thank you for this important first step toward freeing the Kingdom of Azjol-Nerub from the Scourge's grasp," the spider-like creature said, approaching them. "I am Reclaimer A'zak, and while I do not know your purpose in coming to these unhallowed tunnels, we thank you nonetheless for your intervention."
"We seek passage through the tunnels into Icecrown," Blaise said quickly, jumping at the new opportunity presented to them, "can you show us safe passage to somewhere out of the way of the Scourge forces?"
"That we can do," A'zak said, "but we will need to be swift and subtle to make it through the old Kingdom without rousing too much attention."
"We will manage," the Stormreaver assassin said confidently. With Nerubian guides they would be able to pass through the underground empire with great swiftness, and find a secondary route into the Lich King's lands for when the siege at the Wrathgate fell.
That event was something that Blaise was supremely sure of, as besieging a land of undead came across to him as supremely foolish. At the least, he had persuaded Nobu'tan to have ample safeguards for the various ways that the siege could go wrong, so their losses would be minimal at worst, and then they would proceed with their own assault of the stronghold of the Lich King, without the weight of the other factions slowing them down.
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Teg'Ramm nearly turned away. The human Paladin's attempt to literally call out the Lich King seems laughable, and after a long pause of silence it seemed to fall upon the deaf ears of the dead. But even as he started, the grinding of the gate sounded, freezing all gathered in place as the jaw-like spikes fell away to the darkness within.
A lone figure was approaching, clad in heavy armor and carrying a massive sword in hand. Teg'Ramm could sense the powerful magic that wafted off in droves, palpable and reeking of death and shadow. This could be no other but the Lich King himself.
"You speak of justice?" the being challenged, "Of cowardice?"
If anything, it seemed that the Paladin's attempt to goad the undead King of the Scourge had actually worked, and Teg was now watching this Bolvar with a new light, while Ramm refused to remove his eye from the form of the King of the dead.
"I will show you the justice of the grave, and the true meaning of fear…" the Lich King said stoically, even as a pulse of necromantic magic erupted from him, undetectable by all except the highly attuned Ogre Mage. Corpses all around started to rise once more, even those that had been heavily damaged in their previous battle, and the armored King approached, raising his blade.
"Enough talk! Let it be finished!" a brown orc bellowed, charging with his own weapon raised. Warchief Nek'rosh bellowed a reply, also leaping forward, but whether he was joining in the attack or trying to stop the other orc, Teg'Ramm did not see, as the flash of steel from the figures was swift and decisive.
Within a single stroke, the Lich King stood over both fallen orcs, his blade drinking deeply of the souls before him.
"You will pay for all the lives you've stolen, traitor!" the Alliance Highlord seethed, even as the Lich King turned to observe them all.
"Boldly stated," was the calm reply, "but there is nothing you can…"
But whatever the Lich King was going to say was abruptly cut off by an explosion of green smoke and cries of anguish from the assembled armies.
"What?" the armored figure said, and as one they all turned upward to the Kalimdor Horde's ridge, as a thin figure appeared, laughing manically as catapults rolled into position.
"Did you think we had forgotten?" the figure said cryptically, "Did you think we had forgiven? Behold now the terrible vengeance of the Forsaken!"
The twin catapults on either side of the undead fired them, sending more of the verdant death down into the crowd of soldiers, alive and undead. "Death to the Scourge!" the apothecary announced, "And death to the living!"
Teg'Ramm acted on instinct alone. If this green gas was going to be their death, then he would extinguish it in the swiftest method he could. With one arm he seized the nearest figure, the Paladin leader of the Alliance, and the other spewed forth a torrent of Fel flame, the Legion fire eagerly devouring the poisonous gas of the Forsaken's plague.
Many others were not so fortunate, their flesh literally rotting away in the swarm of acidic smoke and sludge. Even the Lich King fell to his knees, coughing and wheezing, before surging back to his feet and withdrawing through the gateway to his citadel. "This isn't over!" he threatened, even as the gate closed off the deadly gas.
High atop the ridge, the Forsaken apothecary was laughing, "Now, all can see this is the hour of the Forsaken."
But even as the undead turned to depart, and allow his forces to continue their tretcherous attack, Teg'Ramm couldn't help but smile as the ridge around him exploded in blue smoke and flames. The Blightbringer clan, high atop the overlook from their secret outpost had finally counterattacked. Whatever secret weapon they had brought with them was highly effective in killing the undead solely, and seemed to work wonders on their plague as well.
More canisters of bright blue smoke rained down, mixing and diffusing the green death from the Forsaken, and saving lives as the three armies withdrew from the Wrathgate in all haste.
Heaving the Paladin along, Teg'Ramm knew that they would both survive. His Fel fire had done its work in purging whatever deadly gas tried to reach them, and other warlocks of the Dark Horde had quickly followed suit. But the fact of the matter was that their siege was defeated, by treachery from their own forces.
"We're finished here," Bolvar said, looking over the carnage once Teg'Ramm released him, "There is no means for us to fight through this and have another chance at the Lich King this way."
"At least casualties could have been far worse," Teg'Ramm countered, looking over the dead and dying in the field. If not for the timely intervention of the Blightbringers and their anti-plague, they would have been surrounded by the deadly gas in quick order, and none but those at the edge of the battle would have had any chance of fleeing.
Nevertheless, as it stood, Warchief Nek'rosh was slain, as well as the Kalimdor Horde commander, and a fair number of others by both Scourge blade and the Forsaken's plague.
"Sylvanas Windrunner will pay for this treachery," Bolvar said hotly, his anger brewing. "I will be sure to make it known that she is to blame for our failure here."
Teg'Ramm said nothing. He was willing to await the judgment of Lord Nobu'tan in this matter, although the ogre could guess without a doubt that the Lord of the Stormreavers would be quick to seek vengeance just as much as the Paladin.
Stepping away, Teg'Ramm turned toward taking charge of the remaining Dark Horde clans, now that their Warchief was dead, in order to prepare for them to withdraw back to a safer distance from the Scourge lines. There was little reason to stay in direct conflict with the undead without a reason, so the warlock felt that it would be wisest to retire to an isolated portion of the frozen north where they could strategize and formulate a new plan to defeat the Lich King.
He was therefore surprised to find Nobu'tan already returned from his needful distraction in the Searing Gorge, looking around at the defeated and broken siege with mild confusion.
"What happened?" the warlock demanded, and Teg'Ramm knew that there was no avoiding being in the direct line of his master's wrath now. Once Nobu'tan learned that more of their forces were killed, and by those who ought to have been under an alliance of common enemies, he would likely desire to march singlehandedly on the Forsaken's fortress.
"We had better retire to your tent first," Teg said, hoping to buy a few moments before the inevitable.
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Narcissa was in her element.
Fluttering from home to home, monitoring the needs and stages of the great assembly of items for the Alliance soldiers abroad, she slowly entrenched herself in the lives of all the people of Stormwind, great and small. The aristocracy was something less of an interest to her, as those who dwelled in the manor homes of Old Town were more than capable of taking care of their own needs without their men at home, and their husbands and fathers were in little danger, being generals and other commanders of various stronghold and outposts across the world.
Therefore, her care and attention went to the common people. Those who dwelled in the Trade District, and the small villages round about, that had their men on the front lines, and who didn't know if they would be able to survive the next winter without their breadwinners' safe return to tend to fields and businesses.
These women were the backbone of the Alliance, weathering the storms of these constant wars. Narcissa could see the strength in their eyes as she met with them, arranging for the cloth gathered by those adventurers to be delivered to them. Massive groups of sewing circles were then formed; creating cloaks and clothing to bring warmth and love to those men that were in the cold north.
Already countless packages were being sent to Stormwind Keep, with notes and messages for loved ones tied along with them, all prepared to be shipped in one massive delivery to their front lines, but the question was still how they were to accomplish this feat. There was not one ship that could carry everything that they had been given, the outpouring from the people had been so great and impressive. Even Narcissa had underestimated just how much this idea would spark in the hearts of the humans of Stormwind.
Varian had told her that both Ironforge and Darnassius had also taken up the cause, funneling cloth and clothing to be sent northward, which effectively tripled the amount of care packages that they had to deliver, but he hinted that he had a plan for exactly how they were to deliver all these things in one swift action.
Apparently the King wished for whatever means he had to do this to remain a surprise, as even Narcissa's attempted to learn how were rebuffed with gentle amusement. That, or what she truly suspected it was some means that would also have military applications, and therefore fell under the category of top secret.
She trusted that Varian would be aware to not try to use an act of mercy as a front for hostile action, especially if that included something against the other factions, but the fact that he would keep the vehicle by which he could move so much over ocean quickly left a twinge of possibility.
Therefore, when the time came for the supplies to be sent out, and Varian requested that Narcissa attend the top-secret sendoff, she was surprised at her inclusion. "I know there had been a host of cloak and dagger regarding out little surprise," Varian said, even as he, Anduin, Narcissa, and Aurora boarded the Deeprun Tram, which would carry them all speedily northward to the Dwarven city of Ironforge, where this secret vehicle was housed.
The tram itself was something of a marvel, and Narcissa had not made the journey to the dwarven city before now, seeing no need to venture father than Westfall for any of her, or her peoples', needs. Still, the two children were brimming with energy at the speed that they hurtled along underground, and awed at the occasional massive window that they passed, which showed a view into the depths of the seafloor between the southern city and the mountains fortress of their dwarven allies.
There naturally, was another reason that she had avoided coming to this place, which was apparent from the moment that they left the Tram to the underground fortress. The large number of surly Dark Iron dwarves, who watched the humans from Stormwind with narrow, unfriendly glances.
It wasn't openly hostile, but the suspicion and lack of respect was certainly there. "Varian!" boomed the King of Ironforge, emerging from the throne room and greeting them all warmly, "glad you could make it for the sending off of Skybreaker, please, this way to the overlook."
"Lead on, Magni," Varian said, even as his son walked beside the Dwarven King, listening to their conversation of the state of affairs between the war with the scourge and other affairs at home.
Narcissa listened with only half attention. She was more focused on making sure that her daughter did not get distracted by all the new sights and sounds, and wander off. Luckily, Aurora was holding the hand of the Stormwind Prince, following along as the boy listened with rapt attention to his father and the Dwarven King, which gave Narcissa enough leeway to enjoy the stroll herself.
"Our biggest issue is all these Dark Iron refugees, Varian," Magni said, which caught her attention, "They're an ill-tempered lot, an' when they're not sneakin' off ta try and fight the Dark Horde then they're fightin' with my people over petty issues…"
"We need to not provoke our allies at this crucial time, especially with the forces of the Lich King being held off by our combined might alone." Varian said grimly.
Narcissa appreciated that Varian was doing what he could to be a voice of reason in the face of the Dwarven people's plight, discouraging open warfare with the Dark Horde and suing for a peaceful resolution once the extenuating crises was ended.
Granted, Narcissa was not sure how long the Northrend campaign would extend, nor what the future held. For all she knew, another crisis would rise up after this one, but she hoped that soon a peaceful moment for all these problems between the factions to have their chance to be resolved without the potential for more bloodshed.
"Yes, well we had hopes that whatever is gonna happen happens soon, as I can't imagine that Moira is going to wait too much longer before demanding vengeance once again." The dwarven king said. Narcissa could tell that the parental nature of this dwarf was fierce, and while he cared deeply for his daughter and grandchild, but he had to balance that against the need to protect his people, both refugees and native population, against themselves.
Eventually, their journey let the up to a narrow gate at the top of the mountain. Aurora started to shiver, but Narcissa waved her wand to layer them all with protective warmth, which even Magni smiled at.
"There she lies: the Skybreaker!" he announced, spreading his hands to display the massive airship that was revealed as they exited the halls of the mountain. Humans, Dwarves, and Gnomes alike were moving about the various decks of the multi-layered hulk of a vessel, running checks and securing the cargo from Stormwind below.
"King Varian, welcome," a man said, approaching and saluting his king sharply.
"High Captain Justin Bartlett has been most appreciated in his skill and haste in learning all that there is to know about our ship, in order to command it on its maiden voyage." Magni said, causing the man to become momentarily uncomfortable at the praise from his leaders.
"Just doing my duty, sir," he said sheepishly, before growing serious again, "We have all the supplies loaded and ready to depart at your command, my King," he added.
"Yes, the sooner these supplies are sent out, the better it will be for everyone in the Alliance, warrior and citizen alike," Varian replied, "depart with all haste, and bring us word from Bolvar upon your return."
"You may not need to wait that long from news from the North," Magni said, looking northward at a sudden sound. A creature was flapping it was toward them. Not until it was much closer did Narcissa recognize the gryphon and its dwarven rider for what they were. The flying creature skittered to a stop nearby and the dwarf leapt from its back, rushing to his King first, then to Varian, "My Lords," the dwarf said sharply, out of breath from the speed of his travel, "dire news from Northrend. The Forsaken have betrayed the united effort and tried to slaughter us all at the Wrathgate."
Vairan grew very silent, and Narcissa could feel the rage starting to build in the man. Taking Anduin and her daughter by the hand, she led them away while the King saw to more difficult business. The darker side of leadership was not something that either child needed to see now, least of all crossing the face of the man who was always so gentle with them.
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Varian was extremely grateful when Narcissa took both Anduin and her daughter away to examine the Skybreaker while he dealt with the news of the Forsaken and their treachery. "Tell me everything," he said coldly, allowing his rage to simmer while the details were relayed. At least Highlord Bolvar had survived, thanks to the efforts of the Dark Horde, but he could tell that even the other factions would be baying for the blood of the Banshee at this point.
She had gone too far with her schemes this time.
"I want every available man on the Skybreaker within the hour," Varian said, "We are going to the Undercity, and dealing with this menace once and for all, before proceeding on our course to Northrend. The Scourge may not be the only undead blight we need to be rid of…"
"Yes, milord," Captain Bartlett said, snapping a salute and nearly sprinting away in his haste to relay the orders from his King.
"Are ye sure that this is wise?" Magni said, concern on his face, "sending our forces to fight the Forsaken, when we don't even know if they are the cause of this…"
"Whatever the answer to the riddle, it will be found in Lordaeron," Varian said coldly.
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Nobu'tan had to utilize every ounce of willpower to keep control of his rage as he listened to the events of the Wrathgate from Teg'Ramm. The fact that he himself was not here when it had happened stung most of all, and he blamed the Dark Iron dwarves for the whole of it.
Nevertheless, the Forsaken were the cause of all the suffering, and the death of his Warchief and friend. "We should have annihilated them when we had the chance back in Arathi," he seethed, standing once the information was concluded and started to pace the tent. "I will have her head on a spike for this, mark my words…"
"What shall you have of us," Teg'Ramm said, his devotion to Nobu'tan even in the face of what was to come endearing. It helped to calm the Grand Warlock, and remind him that he had other responsibilities than just revenge for the fallen.
"I want our armies to withdraw from here. Separate some to take up the stronghold in Wintergrasp that the Dragonmaw have secured, and the rest can filter back through Zul'Drak to our landing point. There will be time enough to regroup and launch another, more effective assault on Icecrown after the Forsaken were dealt with." He instructed, glancing over the map of Northrend that he had arranged before him.
"I will choose a few of the clans to come and fight once a decision of how the other factions will react is made. But we will be among those that assault the Forsaken's stronghold, I assure you of that." He said at last, steeling himself to the words. He would not allow himself to fly off the handle and go without a plan other than wrecking devastation in his wake, but there would be penance for this.
"The Alliance has already sent word back to their leaders in Stormwind and Ironforge," Teg'Ramm reported, "the same for the Kalimdor Horde and their fortress of Orgrimmar."
A thought struck Nobu'tan, one that was both intriguing and personally satisfying. "I will need several attendants; I plan to make an appearance in our counterparts very doorstep. This is a meeting that had been a long time coming, and now that the Banshee needs to be dealt with it's as good a time as any to pay our cousins across the sea a visit."
"I will have the greatest of my ogre warriors accompany you," Teg'Ramm hastened to suggest, "None will challenge you while they are with you."
"Good," Nobu'tan said, "I also want Aisha and some of her brood. A few Forest Trolls wouldn't be amiss either…"
A rustle at the tent entrance caused both Nobu'tan and Teg'Ramm to turn. The warlock grinned as the Frost King Malakk entered.
"We be hearin' dat your forces met de're match at da Wrathgate… perhaps we not be makin' da best deal joinin' wit ya after all…"
"Treachery does not equate to being defeated," Nobu'tan retorted, "and in dealing with that I have a use for some of your warriors as representatives, if you'd be willing to make your allegiance to us publicly known."
The look on the Frost Kings face said that he most certain had no personal desire to agree, but in putting the survival of his nation ahead of himself as a true leader, he eventually nodded his consent. "Excellent," Nobu'tan said, stepping out with Teg'Ramm to meet the token force of Drakkari that had come to reinforce them at the Wrathgate.
Nobu'tan noted that they came altogether too late to actually lend any aid, but that seemed to be a last desperate grasp at some measure of control over their changing situation from Malakk. That low-level form of manipulation Nobu'tan would tolerate for a time, but eventually it would subside on its own, or he would crush it out of the troll completely.
Putting that all aside for the time being, Nobu'tan chose a few of the more intimidating berserkers, and had them join with Teg'Ramm's Ogre Brutes and the Feltalon Veela. A strange-looking entourage would attend him at the gates of Orgrimmar, to be sure, but Nobu'tan was past the point of caring about the other factions and their sensibilities.
Dark Horde blood would be answered for tenfold, and the faction associated with them would be made aware of exactly what reprisal awaited them.
With Blaise's help, Nobu'tan had plucked the mental image of what the location on the western continent looked like before the gates of their counterpart Horde, and with an added effort to power a gateway to somewhere he was not personally aware of, the shimmer of space folded away for their passage. The land of Durotar was quite rocky and dusty, not quite what Nobu'tan had hoped for their people, but coming from the Burning Steppes and Blackrock Mountain it was something of an improvement.
Personally he would have preferred appearing within the city, but the probably reaction from its denizens would have been met with undesired bloodshed. There would only be guilty parties that died regarding this affront to his people, Nobu'tan would enforce this, and therefore gave them the respect that they deserved.
Still, those few farmers and other citizen of the Kalimdor Horde that lived outside the walls were suitably afraid as Frost Trolls, Ogres, and especially the avian Veela, ducking inside their homes or otherwise fleeing into the city.
Unsurprisingly, the massive gate was quickly closed as they moved their small force through, as though as attack was eminent. "Fools…" Nobu'tan sighed, even as they walked slowly toward the gates.
"I, Nobu'tan of the Dark Horde, demand an audience with your Warchief!" he called, magnifying his voice to be well heard over whatever other sounds the quivering guards may have been making. It was about time that Warlock and Shaman had a firm discussion about the wayward Banshee and her warmongering ways.
