Last posting period before summer vacation, which will herald significantly more time to write, and my hope is to finally start cranking back into high gear to make up some lost ground over the last several months. Every ounce of support is greatly appreciated, and I hope you're all able to bear with the madness that is my life currently! Read, review, and as always... enjoy!

Chapter 172

Weight of Leadership

Sirius could remove his gaze from the demonic form of his godson, despite the fierce battle against the pair of tunneling worms that was happening below them. The younger man watched impassively, occasionally nodding along as his Ogre Mage defender spoke of some detail or pointed out a combatant in the arena below.

Sirius studied the face of his godson, the lines brought on by weariness or a hard life since their last meeting, he couldn't say, but he was alive and healthy. That was more than Sirius could have asked for.

The shreds that his heart would have been rent into if he had arrived too late, only to find that the last link to his friends, his family in all but blood, had been lost… he wouldn't be able to go on.

"You must calm yourself," Tirion said, even as the champions defeated one of the two worms, "there will be time enough to gain your audience with Nobu'tan of the Dark Horde, and get all the answers you seek."

"It's complicated," Sirius said, even as the other was destroyed, and Tirion rose to address the assembled forces.

"The air itself freezes with the introduction of our next combatant, Icehowl! Kill or be killed, champions!" Tirion announced, as the massive manataur thundered into the arena, bellowing a cry and beginning to charge.

"I profess that I do not know the details of the situation, Lord Black," the Highlord said, "but if you are bound to the lord of the Stormreavers by old family ties and any semblance of love, then the Light will see your reunion through to a satisfying end."

Sirius merely hummed noncommittally. He was pessimistic, given the previous interactions with his godson long ago. Hopefully, time had softened the rage in the young man's heart to where he might be more accepting of Sirius in his life.

The massive beast was defeated far quicker than the worms, as the united force started to become accustomed to fighting together and adapted to the combat style of their singular foe.

"The monstrous menagerie has been vanquished!" Tirion said, standing to applaud the combined efforts of the fighters.

As the champions took a moment of reprieve, the gates opened once more, revealing a gnome as the little creature advanced into the coliseum.

"Grand Warlock Wilfred Fizzlebang will summon forth you next challenge. Stand by, champions!" Tirion announced, but Sirius was uneasy.

The fact that they were calling upon a warlock to summon a new threat for the champions to face was dire enough, but with an entire faction that had capable warlocks to manage such a ritual on hand, but trust this to a single warlock was just equally distressing.

Apparently, Nobu'tan felt the same way, and perhaps somewhat jaded at being overlooked, but the gnome in the arena continued on nonetheless with his introduction.

"Thank you, Highlord. Now, challengers, I will begin the ritual of summoning. When I am done, a fearsome doomguard will appear! Prepare for oblivion!"

Clearly the ritual was not correct, as Sirius felt an overwhelming spike of Fel energy as the portal was torn open at the gnome's command. He rose, feeling a presence that he recalled quite vividly start to emerge from the gateway.

"Aha!" the gnome cried, even as an Eredar stepped through his summoning gate, "Behold the absolute power of Wilfred Fizzlebang, master summoner! You are bound to me, demon!"

"YOU UTTER FOOL!" bellowed Nobu'tan from the Dark Horde stands, even as the Grand Warlock leapt down to the dirt below, and Sirius mirrored his godson.

"Trifling gnome! Your arrogance will be your undoing!" cried the familiar demon to Sirius' memory.

The powerful demon shot Fel lightning at the gnome, but Nobu'tan reached him first, blocking with a shield of magic that absorbed the Fel power like a sponge.

"Heroes, quickly, destroy the demon lord before it can open a portal to its twisted demonic realm!" Tirion shouted down, spurring the assembled champions to action.

"You face Jaraxxus, Eredar Lord of the Burning Legion!" the destroyer of Earth bellowed, setting Sirius' blood on fire with suppressed indignation.

"You will not survive this encounter, foolish Eredar," Nobu'tan challenged, demonic form blossoming with Felfire as he ascended to challenge Jaraxxus directly, "or has the underlings of Kil'jaeden not learned the lesson that their master suffered at my hands?"

"Nobu'tan the Betrayer," the Eredar said, smirking in his arrogance, "it will be a great honor for me to present your head to my masters!"

"You will not touch him while I live!" Sirius cried, already drawing his weapons and slamming into the Eredar, Holy Light flaring to life around him, "It's time for round two between us, Jaraxxus!"

"You!" the Eredar cried, recognizing Sirius from the great final battle on earth so many years prior. Sirius was pleased that the scars he had inflicted on the Eredar's face had not been regenerated, leaving a clear reminder of the humiliation that he personally had inflicted on this mighty servant of the Legion.

"High Exarch Turalyon sends his regards," Sirius said, unable to keep himself from taunting the demon.

"I swill stripe your flesh from your bones!" Jaraxxus bellowed, swinging his staff with both hands to try and crush Sirius beneath it.

His shield flashed into life between the Fel-powered weapon and Sirius, deflecting the strike with a resounding clang. Sirius cut the leg of the Eredar with his sword in retaliation, but the creature was more concerned with the firestorm of green flames that started to engulf him.

Behind the Eredar, Nobu'tan was weaving a Fel ritual, even as the warlocks of the Dark Horde bombarded the creature from the stands, unwilling to allow a demon to be part of the challenges of this tournament.

The Horde and Alliance leaders were on their feet, even as the Grand Warlock spoke words in the demonic language, tearing open a hole in space to drag the Eredar back into the Nether from where he had come.

"You will not burn another world so long as I draw breath, you or your precious Legion!" Nobu'tan cried, even as he stretch his free hand toward the demon, and a chain of Fel magic launched from his hand to wrap around the demon's chest.

"INFERO!" Jaraxxus cried, trying to summon reinforcements, but even as the Fel meteors crashed down, Sirius barreled into the creature, breaking his grip on the staff anchoring him from getting dragged away.

The Eredar flew backward, caught along with Sirius in the vortex of air that was being pulled away into the deepest reaches of the Nether.

"Disappear now, and curse us in vain!" Nobu'tan shouted, hurling the chain, and the demon with it, into the void beyond the portal.

Sirius closed his eyes, thinking that he was to be lost keeping this monster from trying to torch Azeroth as he had Earth, when a powerful hand grasped his own, keeping him from being dragged along with the demon.

His eyes snapped open, and Sirius gaped as Nobu'tan's powerful frame pulled him back through the portal to the Azeroth side.

"Another will take my place! Your world is doomed…" Jaraxxus shouted vainly, even as the portal closed, sealing him far away from them.

Setting Sirius upon his feet, Nobu'tan whirled to look up at the stands. Both Horde and Alliance leaders were shouting at each other, each thinking that the summoning of the demon was a ploy to try and kill their champions, and Sirius could see the flash of pure anger cross his godson's face.

"Enough!" he bellowed, slamming the staff down on the packed earth with a thunderous crack.

Looking up balefully at the stands of the Argent Crusade, Nobu'tan spoke directly to Tirion, "I do not understand, Highlord, why you thought it wise to even entreat any demon toward the use of this tournament, regardless of whoever was the summoner. The Legion still seeks to break into our world, and you chose to allow someone to dangle a free entrance to them, pouring far too much power into a single portal just to make sure that our factions' champions meet your standards?"

"Everyone calm down!" Tirion said, "Compose yourselves! There are no conspiracies at play here. The warlock acted on his own volition, outside of influence from either the Argent Crusade or any other faction. The Tournament must go on!"

Sirius could see that Nobu'tan was less than pleased with this dismissal of his complaints, and whirled away without even a second glance at Sirius.

Sighing at the frustration of everything, the former commander of the Army of the Light turned away to return to the Argent Crusade stands, uncertain if he was going to have opportunity to even speak with Nobu'tan now, or if his godson would depart the tournament and never return, forcing Sirius to start his search all over again.

Pausing before starting up the stairs to the stands, Sirius reconsidered. He was not terribly interested in watching the factions fight for the honor of facing the next threat to their world. Turning toward the exit, Sirius walked outside, only able to the hear the last of Tirion's call for order and trying to resume the tournament.

"The next battle will be against the Argent Crusade's most powerful knights! Only by defeating them will you be deemed worthy…" he heard before passing out of earshot.

Walking casually, trying to not get too lost in his own negative thoughts, Sirius started down past the stables of the Alliance faction mounts that had been brought to this place.

Glancing toward the Dark Horde tents, which were around the rear side of the coliseum, Sirius was not surprised to see Nobu'tan entering the tent, a few of his entourage in tow as he left the tournament in irritation.

Momentarily, he contemplated going to try his luck to get an audience with the Grand Warlock, but decided against it. He had seem the rage in his godson's eyes, and trying to speak with him at this juncture, if his anger was anything like James', would be not productive for anyone involved.

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Jaina felt a growing sense of dread as she followed Sylvanas and her Dark Rangers into the back halls of the Lich King's fortress. It was not wise for them to be here with no one knowing that they had come, and she paused to look back, thinking she might send an arcane wisp to tell someone either at Dalaran or circling in the Alliance warship where they were.

"Keep moving, Sorceress," Windrunner said, doubling back to where Jaina had lagged behind, "I can sense that the sword is close."

"I'm uncertain how we're going to escape with so many men lost and so few to keep our path in secure," Jaina said, hoping to touch the Banshee Queen's sense of self-preservation.

Sylvanas paused, looking back and thinking over the notion, "You may be right," she admitted, "I will send one of my rangers back to get the attention of one of the airships, best not to be caught unprepared for what lies ahead."

"The chill of this place…" Jaina said, shuddering at how unnatural it was, "I can feel my blood freezing."

The two moved back to the rest of the group, gazing further into the strange chamber ahead. "What is that, up ahead?" Could it be…?" Jaina said, seeing the unearthly glow.

"I… I don't believe it! Frostmourne stands before us—unguarded-just as the gnome claimed. Come…"

"Frostmourne," Jaina breathed as they drew nearer, the evil sword hovering in the center of the chamber, "the blade that destroyed our kingdoms…"

"Standing this close to the blade that ended my life…" Sylvanas said, pausing and clutching at the covered wound on her chest, only barely visible past her armor, "the pain… it is renewed."

Momentarily, Jaina wondered what they hoped to do with the blade. Touching the cursed sword would be a fate worse than death, and it seemed that the Banshee was of the same opinion. "I dare not touch it," she said, "I'll attempt to commune with the blade. Perhaps our salvation lies within…"

"Careful, girl. I've heard talk of this cursed blade saving us before. Look around you and see has been born of Frostmourne…" a familiar voice rang out as Sylvanas started to channel magic into the sword.

"Uther?" Jaina said, recognizing the face of the scarred Paladin, "Dear Uther! I… I'm so sorry."

"Jaina! Could it truly be you?" the Paladin's spirit said sorrowfully, "you haven't much time. The Lich King sees what the sword sees. He will be here shortly."

Momentarily, Jaina's heart lurched, "Arthas is here? Maybe I can…"

"No, girl," Uther chided, much as he had in life, "Arthas is not here. Arthas is merely a presence within the Lich King's mind. A dwindling presence…"

It couldn't be true, it had to not be true. Jaina had to know for certain, "But Uther," she pleaded, "if there is any hope of reaching Arthas. I… I must try."

"Jaina, listen to me," Uther said sternly, "You must destroy the Lich King. You cannot reason with him. He will kill you and your allies and raise you all as powerful soldiers of the Scourge."

"Then my destiny shall be fulfilled on this day," Sylvanas said, drawing her bow. All the forsaken with her armed themselves, but the spirit of Uther shook his head sadly.

"You cannot defeat the Lich King. Not here. You would be a fool to try, girl. For you Sylvanas, his reward for you would be worse than the last…"

"There must be a way…" she said, her anger still seething.

Jaina had never seen this much of a reaction from the normally stoic and impassive Forsaken Queen. Her hatred of Arthas had to run deep.

"Perhaps," Uther admitted, "but know this: there must always be a Lich King. Even if you were to strike down Arthas, another would have to take his place, for without the control of the Lich King, the Scourge would wash over this world like locusts, destroying all that they touched."

"Who could bear such a burden?" Jaina asked sorrowfully. Even if they were to stop Arthas, to commit another to that same fate for the salvation of their world seemed a cruel twist of fate.

"I do not know, Jaina," Uther replied mournfully, "I suspect that the piece of Arthas that might be left inside the Lich King is all that holds the Scourge from annihilating Azeroth."

"Then maybe there is still hope," Jaina started, but the Paladin snapped sharply to the side, growling in sudden pain.

"Arrrghhh! He… he is coming… You… you must…" Uther tried to make out, but the armored form of the Lich King appeared at the far end, silencing him with a gesture.

"Silence, Paladin," the echoing voice of the Lich King demanded, banishing the spirit of Uther from their sight.

"So you wish to commune with the dead?" the undead king taunted, summoning his blade to his hand with a thought, "You shall have your wish."

Spirits of the damned, old soldiers of the Alliance, human, dwarven, and elven, appeared around the chamber, bound to the will of the Lich King.

"Falric. Marwyn. Bring their corpses to my chamber when you are through…" the Lich King demanded.

"As you wish, my lord," the two undead Lordaeron ghosts replied. Jaina knew both these men, loyal to Arthas until the end of the fateful voyage to this forsaken place.

"Soldiers of Lordaeron, rise and meet your master's call!" Falric shouted.

"You will not escape me that easily, Arthas! I will have my vengeance!" Sylvanas shouted, sprinting through the gathering ghosts after the Lich King, who vanished out of sight through a rapidly closing door.

"You cannot deny me this," Jaina said, suddenly left behind with a few of the Forsaken Dark Rangers, who grouped nearby and awaited their orders. Frost magic welled up inside her, and Jaina knew she had to fight to get through this chamber. "I must know, Arthas… I must find out…"

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Mahan was somewhat concerned, as the united forces of Azeroth had finally convened within Icecrown for their little tournament in preparation against the Lich King. While he understood the purpose that the Nathrezim were allowing all this to come to pass, the fact that they were less than motivated to actively spur it on was something that grated on his limited patience.

Adding to that, their lack of presence around the bastion of the Scarlet Onslaught as of late worried him all the more. He knew that the creatures would abandon him as soon as they felt he was on no further use to them, but he had at the least assumed that his prevention of the creation of another Ashbringer would have proved his use to their cause.

He had been carefully setting aside items to depart, should the need arise for him to cut his losses and save himself, when a flare of light and shadow magic from somewhere deep below the cathedral heralded something far more… interesting, for him to investigate.

Stalking through the shadows of the cathedral, the keeper of the dark secrets of death bypassed the worshipping sycophants of the most twisted view of the Light on the planet, descending into the darkness where they would dare not venture, and followed the scent of magic that he alone of all these humans could sense innately.

At long last, in a secluded chamber in the very foundations of the cathedral, he found the Nathrezim, unhidden from their true forms, infusing power into a metal rod into which the shard of the naaru was infused.

The crystal flashed violently from gold to deep purple, indicating that the war of Light and Shadow still waged within its crystalline form.

"Mahan, good of you to join us," Banehollow said, "We were about to send for you…"

It was a lie, but the human smiled slightly regardless. He was to be rewarded for his initiative in coming here, and therefore he waited patiently for the pair to finish their ritual.

With another pulse of power, the entire staff resonated, making the stones of the chamber shudder once more before growing still.

"It is complete," Mal'Ganis said, even as the staff started to hover on its own power.

"A pity that the infernal light within it means we cannot weild it to destroy our enemies," Banehollow said, although Mahan knew what the solution they would reach would be.

"This is it, isn't it?" he said, stepping fully into the chamber and observing the fine etching on the staff, perfectly mirroring the high languages of the elves and the Light-fearing humans, "the weapon to destroy Nobu'tan and cause as much death and destruction to this world as we can…"

"All in the name of their precious Light…" Mal'Ganis said, the satisfaction evident in his voice.

Reaching forward for the staff, Mahan felt the object seem to try and push him away, but at the same time part of it was inviting him closer, like a tantalizing whisper. Grasping the surprisingly warm metal with his hand, he felt immense discomfort as the Light within sought to burn his unworthy flesh, but the shadow also shielded him, welcoming him as a fellow user of the Void's magic.

"Light's Wrath will burn away the useless of this world, and feed the power of the Shadowlands…" Mahan said, his eagerness to use this weapon against those who had denied him for so long palpable.

"It will be time to use our followers for their final mission soon," Banehollow said, even as he and Mal'Ganis resumed their human forms. "To assault the Citadel as soon as the Argent Crusade does as well, and catch those sentimental paladins in a pincer between the Scarlet Onslaught and the Scourge."

"Crush them all and let our fanatics take the brunt of the losses as well… perfect for us no matter how you slice it," Mahan said, liking this plan.

"And you will be given your chance to assassinate Nobu'tan, and the other high ranking leaders." Mal'Ganis added.

"With suitable means to escape if needed I hope…" Mahan said, raising an eyebrow, "Wouldn't want this to end up in the wrong hands…"

He knew that they would try at every turn to betray him as well, but as long as Mahan was smart, the Nathrezim couldn't trick him to his own destruction.

"Of course…" Banehollow said. Mahan did not believe him whatsoever. Taking the staff in hand, Mahan ascended from the depths of the cathedral, allowing the Light in the weapon to shine forth and draw the attention of all the Scarlet warriors and religious fanatics.

"Rise up, brothers and sisters!" he cried in common, hefting the weapon overhead. "Our salvation has come! Through the skill of our greatest and most sanctified, we have a weapon like unto the Ashbringer! Behold, the instrument of the destruction of the Scourge! Behold Light's Wrath!"

The crowd cheered, many able to sense the power wafting from the staff. "We march on Icecrown, the Lich King will answer for his crimes against Lordaeron, and all our people!" Mahan bellowed, "We come for you Arthas!"

The masses cheered, unknowing of the doom that was yet to come upon them all, and scrambled back to their encampments to gather all their weapons and equipment. "The Final battle is at hand, leave nothing behind that might be needed!" Mahan ordered, calling for a horse for himself, to take the lead on this assault.

By the time their army was in position, the Argent Crusade and their allies would already be in the thick of the fighting, and the Scarlet Onslaught would overrun their position. Personally, the former warlock of the Dark Horde hoped for a delay or two so that the chances of catching Nobu'tan when he was weaker were higher, but he would take whatever opportunity presented itself at this point.

The time for vengeance had come.

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Teg'Ramm swiftly lost interest in the remainder of the tournament. The Kalimdor Horde brute and the Alliance king continued to rant at each other, and rather than fight the knights that Lord Fordring had provided as their challenge had insisted on fighting each other.

"The Dark Horde will not participate in this blood sport any longer." Teg boomed, rising from his seat next to the empty chair that Nobu'tan had already vacated after the fiasco with the gnome warlock. "If you are going to pursue this kind of madness, and permit it, we will take our leave…"

The Paladin looked disheartened that the fued between two of the factions was destroying their little game, but the brown-skinned grunt was not going to let them get away without his say. "Are you telling me that the so-called true Horde are cowards that will not defend their honor when challenged? This is what happened when warlocks and demons command the power that is the race of orcs."

"Believe what you will, Hellscream," Ramm commented, "But the Dark Horde is above your petty concepts of brute honor and infighting. We depart. Perhaps when you've all come to your senses we will meet on the field against the Scourge, the true enemy we ought to be fighting…"

Stepping down from the high rise seats, Teg'Ramm left, with all the observers from the Dark Horde, and their Champiosn as well. There was no point in participating if it was going to do nothing but weaken their united forces that, in the Ogre Lord's eyes, had been the plan for the Paladin in the first place.

If the other factions could not work together on this chief of concerns, after all that had happened, then personally Teg'Ramm would rather the Dark Horde conquer the whole of Azeroth, if only to save it from these weak-minded fools.

Striding into the Tent of the Dark Horde, Teg'Ramm drew the attention of Nobu'tan, who had been there fuming over the previous insult to the entire venture. "I withdrew the Dark Horde from the remainder of this farce," Teg'Ramm informed him.

Looking strongly at him, the Grand Warlock mulled the words over, before nodding shakily, "Yes… That was the right thing to do, Teg'Ramm. I cannot tolerate the nonsense that these fools would have us do, when we should have assembled and assaulted the citadel the moment we all arrived."

"What would you have of the Dark Horde now, Lord Nobu'tan," Teg'Ramm asked, offering back command with his words alone to their supreme commander.

Closing his eyes, the part-demon human seemed to fight a deep internal desire, and Teg'Ramm knew that his master feared for their safety if he was to give the order for what they had come here to do.

"Do not fear for our lives, Master," Ramm spoke again, which partly surprised even Teg. His other head was far more of the introverted of their pair, and for him to speak twice so pointedly in so short a span was something he had never done before. "Your Horde are ready to fight to the very death if need be, to protect our world."

"I know you are," Nobu'tan said softly, only his voice and demeanor betraying the real fear of losing them that dwelled deep inside the otherwise stoic and imperious frame of the Grand Warlock.

"Then give the order…" Teg urged.

"Destroy them all…" Nobu'tan said, softer still, but the words had been spoken, and the order given.

"We will crush them all in the name of the Dark Horde!" Teg bellowed, turning back toward the entrance as Nobu'tan disappeared deeper into the tent. Teg called for runners to take the message across their domain.

The Dark Horde marched upon Icecrown immediately, not after the pathetic excuse for a tournament that the Argent Dawn had urged for them to wait for.

"My Lord" a grunt said from the tent entrance. "There is a paladin here to speak with Lord Nobu'tan."

"Let him enter," Teg said offhandedly, thinking it must be Fordring, come to beg them return to his precious game. Let him learn that the Dark Horde marched without them.

But the figure that entered was not the Highlord of the Argent Crusade, but another figure altogether, in golden armor that was very strange in its working.

But the face was familiar. "I know you…" Teg'Ramm said, recalling events of their old world so very long ago, and the human that had saved him, and charged him to protect Nobu'tan to his dying day.

"I trust you have kept my godson safe all these year?" Sirius Black said, his smirk fixed in place despite the apparent nervousness that had beset him. "May I speak with him?"

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Nobu'tan bowed his head as soon as he was alone.

The terrible ramifications of what he was sending his people out to face, alone, weighted upon him with great force.

With the Alliance and Kalimdor Horde busy tear each other apart, metaphorically for now, and the Argent Crusade too worried about who was to go into the fortress proper, that left their enemy free reign to make all manner of preparations against them, and he could not allow it to stand.

But even then, he was afraid as to who among all his followers, his family in all but blood, he had just consigned to death, or worse.

Nekrosh was already gone, and countless others in their march across the frozen north just to reach this place.

They had only returned to Azeroth less than half a decade ago, and already so much warfare had consumed them, far more than he had even anticipated.

"Is there to be no end to this constant fighting…" he said aloud, more to ease his own conscious rather than pleading with any extraterrestrial being. Despite full knowledge that these greater entities existed, Nobu'tan put no faith in any of them. He alone had the power and will to achieve whatsoever he set his feet toward, and in the end, it was up to him alone. Others would disagree with Nobu'tan over that fact, but that was the terrible reality he had accepted.

"Heavy is the head that wears the crown, or so went the old saying back on earth…" said a voice from the doorway, and Nobu'tan glared upward, recognizing it from so long ago.

"Hello Harry," Sirius Black said, standing awkwardly in the entrance of the private area of the Dark Horde tent. He had no weapons on him, but the golden armor shined with its own internal light, making it clear to the warlock that his godfather from another life had chosen to walk the path of the Paladin.

"So you've tracked me down after all these years," Nobu'tan said, torn between whether he needed to defend himself, and the faint flicker of torment that told him to allow this man to run him through, in payment of all the evil he had allowed to happen. "Come to strike me down at last?" he settled on asking, not even bothering to rise from the chair he had seated himself in.

"Never," Black said, stepping forward with a touch more confidence, "I would never allow any harm to come to you, no matter what you've done or how much you might deserve it."

"You know little of what I've done, or what I deserve," Nobu'tan countered, but he hadn't the heart to inject his usual venom into the words. Even now, he could sense that his armies were being rallied, and soon the blaring bagpipes would herald his loyal Horde throwing themselves into the very jaws of death, all for him."

"Nor do I care," Black countered, drawing near and laying a hand on Nobu'tan's shoulder. "You are my godson, the son of my dearest and closest friends; I would move heaven and earth to protect you. Although it seems by and large my presence was not needed."

At that moment, far off where Nobu'tan knew their forces were marshaled below the rise where the Tournament was being held, the boom of war drums started up.

"So it begins at last," Nobu'tan said miserably, slowly rising to his feet. "the moment we learn if the Dark Horde has the might and will to stand against even the full force of the Lich King."

"Without the others?" Black asked, even as he followed Nobu'tan out of the tent. "but the Tournament…"

"Is a useless waste of everyone's time," Nobu'tan countered, stepping down to the snow covered dirt and summoning a dreadsteed of Xoroth. "I must watch this, and see what ill I have turned my people to."

"You will not stand alone then," Black said, and in a flash he too was mounted, a gleaming Elekk appearing at his word of command, "I am not leaving your side, never again."

Nobu'tan did not reply, but he felt somewhat comforted. Through Lucius' mentoring, he had come to learn what this man had meant to his earth-bound family, and to know that in spite of everything that had transpired between them, and their world, that he would willingly stand with him, gave Nobu'tan a sliver of hope.

"Come then, the dead await…" he said, turned away from the Tournament grounds to where the real battle was to take place.

Many of the Argent Paladins watched sadly, as they departed, but Nobu'tan rode on impassively. He was done playing the Argent Crusade's games. He knew that his faction was the strongest, and he would prove it on the field of battle, not in some mock games for sport.

A casual flick of the wrist opened a nether portal large enough for the pair of them to jump from the tournament grounds to the central base of the Dark Horde in Icecrown, where the rest of the central leadership and long-range support waited for the initial assault.

Gazing out past the high watchtowers that they had erected, Nobu'tan saw where his armies were gathering, already clearing a wide area to permit their size to spread out for the siege against the first wall in their way.

The wide valley between their encampment and the vigil where the Argetn Crusade had their base had been filled with shambling undead, but systematically they had cleared them out as soon as Nobu'tan had given the word to attack, and now they were matched up against the Aldur'thar, the Desolation Gate according to the Scourge they had captured.

"So the battle begins for the end of the this threat," Black said, even as a roar sounded from the Dark Horde forces far below. They were ready, and once the first volley of boulders from the trebuchets started, they charged the lines of the undead.

The boulders glanced off the dark stone of the walls, and Nobu'tan frowned. He had faith in his engineers, but for some manner of material that strong and not metal was worth being uneasy about.

The next barrage were canisters of Fel Fiendfyre, the twice cursed flames washing over the battlements and consuming every undead that drew near.

"You've blended both the magic of home as well as the powers of the Legion," Black commented, watching as the first lines crashed into the opening wave of the Scourge.

"Every weapon available to fight anyone who dares to stand in our way," Nobu'tan replied, only allowing a touch of pride in his accomplishments leak through as he spoke.

But the paladin was not watching the battle unfold. Nobu'tan tried to keep his attention elsewhere, but it was hard for him to avoid the fact that his godfather wouldn't tear his eyes away from Nobu'tan's face.

It was as though the man was trying to memorize every line of the transformed human's face. "Sorry," Black apologized, turning to look back, "I hadn't thought in my wildest dreams that I would find you so soon…"

"I believed for the longest time that I had doomed everyone on our homeworld for my own selfish reasons," Nobu'tan admitted, keeping his eyes on the battle, "I blamed the Legion, but in my heart I knew it was my fault alone…"