Skating close to the deadline again, but I am starting to get my groove of writing back, and that is a good sign if ever there was one! Please enjoy, as we finally move beyond the Lich King Arc! ~F

Chapter 180

Master of the Dark Horde

Teg'Ramm had not been sure what to expect upon their return to the Burning Steppes, but a full victory celebration had not been high on the list.

The portals they traveled through did not lead to the secretive reaches of the keep within the mountain, but out onto the wide plains of the ashy steppes, where the civilians and all those that supported the Dark Horde dwelled, and the burst of sound that met their ears was both startling and enthralling.

It seemed that someone, possibly Nobu'tan, had made it so that every denizen of the Steppes was there, cheering, or blaring horns, or pounding drums to welcome their warriors home. The heralds of the clans took this as a sign, and out came their pipes, drums, and banners to receive the welcome with music of their own.

A wild fanfare exploded at the returned greeting of song, and everywhere the ogre mage looked were eyes filled with pride at their victorious return. Even trolls had migrated up from the south to join in; their drums adding a strange sub beat to the pounding of the Horde's war drums.

The warriors, already arranged in their clans, formed into lines and groups instinctively, and more than a few shoulders, which had slumped in the fear and weariness of the land of the dead, rose once more in warmth and pride.

The Dark Horde was not a divided group of races and clans, Teg'Ramm could see, but a unified force and their hearts beat as one in victory and in death. Around the main settlement their forces marched, parading in triumph until all had pulled forth from the portal, and the shimmering gateway closed with a flash of light and power.

Then Nobu'tan was in the midst of the settlement, his voice a boom that echoed from one end of the Steppes to the other, "Rejoice my Horde, for the Scourge of the Lich King is defeated, and the world is once more at peace, with no small effort by our warriors! We must feast, and remove the cold of the northern continent from our bones!"

That sent everyone roaring with pleasure. Even Teg'Ramm did not know the last time he had a good hot meal that was not at least mostly rations or traveling food, and roasted boar on the spit sounded mightily delicious to both his minds.

The troopers converged on the settlement, where a massive banquet had been prepared, and great fires all around for them to sit and eat, and at last forget the pains and worries of the long march, and the battles they had survived.

Despite the fact that they arrived during midday, the party lasted until nightfall, with Nobu'tan and other spellcasters of the Dark Horde sending up brilliant blasts of magic into the air for their delight. Many told stories of the various battles, and the bonds of trust that had formed between all members of the Dark Horde, old and new alike.

When full night was upon them, Nobu'tan arose before the assembled warriors, raising a goblet that he himself had drank. "This night, as the shadow falls after a battle won, we remember those who gave their blood to defend our world… Hail the victorious dead!"

"Hail!" boomed the crowd in response.

"Among the fallen, our Warchief, Nek'rosh Skullcrusher, fought to defeat the Lich King and his forces at the Warthgate," Nobu'tan went on, "with his passing, so too must the mantle of the Warchief of the Horde."

Stillness ran through the crowd, and even the rowdiest of children paused their games to listen. Many were anxious to know who would lead their armies into battle. Personally, Teg'Ramm would have had Nobu'tan take on that role personally, but he knew that reasons that his master acted officially through another.

There was too much to do for one being to manage the entirety of the Dark Horde, and Nobu'tan did far more than was his share. Delegating the official running of the battles through another, and the management of the honor codes of the Horde freed him to plan the course that their united clans and tribes would follow, and allow another leader to rise up to prominence beside Nobu'tan and those of the Black Harvest.

Teg'Ramm has listened closely to the failures of the old Shadow Council, the few times that Nobu'tan had mentioned them. They could not control the Horde with perfect authority, but if allowed to be guides, then the leaders chosen by them would follow through on the plans that they set.

"As caretaker of the Horde, in the absence of a Warchief, and acknowledge Chieftain of the Stormreaver Clan," Nobu'tan said, raising his hands dramatically, "I have observed the clans and their leaders in the war against the Lich King. Many distinguished themselves over the campaign, and they shall be richly rewarded for their loyalty and honor, but one clan above all others claimed the mastery to call themselves the burning heart of the Horde. Zhulud of the Dragonmaw, step forward!"

The Elder shaman of the largest clan arose, amid cheers of both his Azerothian and Outland clan members. "Do you, Zhulud of the Dragonmaw, pledge to lead the Horde in war, to represent the honor and prowess of the varied and diverse peoples of the Dark Horde, and embody the traits and strengths at the core of our united faction?"

"I do," the veteran orc replied, slapping a fist to his bare chest.

"Then as acting leader of the Dark Horde, I proclaim you Warchief! For the Horde!" Nobu'tan proclaimed, to the approving roars of those surrounding, especially the Dragonmaw clan members.

Drums and horns blared into the darkness of the Steppes, and the celebration began anew with more vigor. By this time however, both Teg and Ramm had had their fill of the festivities, and were ready to get the next series of orders and begin filtering the Balefire Clan back to their region of dominion.

He was already preparing himself for the heads he would have to rip off to reestablish control of those that had remained behind. At the least, most of the powerful mages had been sent to Dalaran by Lucius Malfoy, and therefore would have had opportunity to try to extend influence over the clan.

Bypassing the assassins Tenebrous and Garona Halforcen in the corridor outside, Teg'Ramm gave them both nods of respect. Their prowess had led to many victories, and if what snippets of conversation he overheard were true, they may have begun to spread that knowledge to others of the Dark Horde. It would not surprise the ogre lord if a new clan arose soon, of assassins focused on carrying out the will of the Dark Horde and dispatching their enemies far and near from the shadows.

Entering the high chamber, he was not surprised to find Lord Nobu'tan there already, still pouring over the documents and reports that had piled up while they had been campaigning in Northrend. "Ah, Teg'Ramm, my most loyal," Nobu'tan said, shuffling the papers and pulling out several scrolls, "I trust you are here to see what assignments you clan will be fulfilling as we reinforce our strongholds here."

"Of course, Lord Nobu'tan," Teg said, even as Ramm focused on the lines around their leader's face. Despite the illusion shrouding the human-demon hybrid features, the lines and expressions that the visage made were near perfect, and Nobu'tan had never been one to shy away from his true feeling in the presence of Teg'Ramm. There was concern, but it was not related to whatever he had to tell the ogre.

Choosing discretion for now, Teg'Ramm made no mention of it, but vowed to himself to keep a better watch. If something pressing was already on the rise on the heels of their victory to the point that Nobu'tan worried, then they were all best served by being on high alert.

"Wherever the Stormreavers direct, the Balefire will go," Teg'Ramm said, carefully taking the flimsy scrolls. He would read them back at his stronghold in Rockard, and direct his people from there to the different destinations that Nobu'tan felt needed their strength.

For himself however, Teg'Ramm would start training more powerful forces, brutal warriors and even more warlocks for their ranks, making sure that the strength of the ogre clan would never falter when Nobu'tan would, inevitably, turn to them when this future threat became clear.

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Remus smelled him the moment that he returned.

He'd have recognized that scent anywhere. Fenrir Greyback had returned from the Northrend campaign, along with all his strongest and most loyal fighters.

It was now that he had to make his move, in order to spare the pack the madness that his sire had in store. Alwin, in his dying breaths, had confided in Remus all that he knew of Greyback's mind and plans for the forest, and the consequences of the mad wolf's all out war against the Forsaken Undead became quite clear.

The man wanted to invade the human kingdom to the south, Gilnaes, and covert the entire nation into an army of wolves, to sweep northward and destroy everything that lay in the region round about. There was even enough clues to indicate that Fenrir felt that it was high time he even turn against Nobu'tan and the Dark Horde, strike out on his own, and forge an empire of wolves that he would rule.

That couldn't be allowed to happen. Not for Harry's sake, Remus had long since given up on the notion that James' son would ever be the happy family member that Sirius desperately wanted, but for the sake of the world, Fenrir's plan had to die with him.

Therefore, Remus had taken it upon himself to eliminate Marigold, and usurp power over the pack in Fenrir's absence, secreting many of the weaker members away once news of the victory in Northrend came to them, and preparing for this moment.

The Alpha stalked into the uppermost chamber of the stone citadel, where Remus awaited, his staff resting gently at his side, and the druid peacefully gathering the strength of the wild around him.

"It's been a long time, Fenrir," he said, to no surprise of his sire. Fenrir must have smelled him long before entering the fortress.

"I had wondered whether you survived the destruction of our world," Fenrir said casually, but Remus did not believe him. Greyback had no loyalty or love for those he had sired, only greed and the bloodlust to kill or main as many as he could. Even now, consumed by the Fel, it was clear that the man had only grown wilder, and likely, it was just the fear of Nobu'tan's power that kept him in check.

"Where is Alwin and Marigold?" Fenrir said, sniffing and finding the old scents of those he had left in charge.

"Both dead, in the service that you left them in," Remus replied. No need to give Fenrir the truth of the matter, that Alwin had betrayed him in the end, or that Remus had personally killed his sycophant. "the pack current rests in my hands, protected from the Forsaken, who've stepped up their encroachment nito the forest, and are using whatever means nessessary to try and lure us out to kill any Worgen they find."

Remus had taken a small liking to the new term that Azerothians had given the wolf. Worgen gave more of a humanlike quality to the mind of the beast, especially for those who, with his tutelage, had managed to master the wolf and merge the savage nature into the old personalities.

"Did you now?" Fenrir said, resentment bubbling up in a snarl as he stalked around the edge of the room. Remus remained motionless, knowing that the instinct of the wolf would have him circle, but he would not place his back to the betas of Fenrir, who would most assuredly not fight fairly unless forced.

"I did, I am mending the harms that have befallen our people, no matter who caused it, or why." Remus said flatly, "And I have heard and seen much. Whispers of a plot, mixed with a cult of elves who have also embraced the wolf curse, and a weapon that they seek… a magical Scythe…"

And heard much of that Remus had indeed. Fenrir was working with a cult, part of the old wolves that had existed here before the Grimfang had arrived in these forests, that were searching the forests of the Eastern Kingdoms for a great weapon of ages past, the Scythe of Elune…

What the goddess of the Night Elves had to do with the werewolf curse, he was not certain, but that was a mystery to investigate after he had freed the pack from the domination of this madman.

"Then you know too much already…" Fenrir growled, and in a flash he changed, the bulky human shape rippling and morphing into the green-tinted white fur of his wolf, and charged.

Remus did not need to act hastily. He had long prepared for this moment, with tools and weapons that Fenrir could only dream of. Sidestepping with fluid grace of his curse, Remus shifted into a form he seldom used. The dense hide of feathers enveloped him, and with a bellowing squawk, he hefted his staff in the skyward arms of the Moonkin.

The form may have appeared comical to Fenrir, but he would underestimate Remus to his own undoing. He leaped again, thinking probably that he would break the thin neck that lay under the mound of feathers. Therefore, Greyback was not prepared for the powerful swing of the enchanted staff, which cracked like a falling tree and sent the Felwolf flying backward with a crash.

Tapping into the power of the sun, which blazed out over the fort, Remus fired a blast of solar magic, filling the room with the smell of burning fur. All the followers of Greyback flinched away at the sight of the smoldering spot on their Alpha's chest, even as Remus waded forward, the fury of nature following him as he began his own counterattack.

The covering plumage acted as an armor all its own, preventing Fenrir from gaining purchase on the body behind them, and even though countless feathers flew in all directions, the beak, talons, and staff of Remus were put to more effective use, quickly becoming wet with the greenish blood of his sire.

Even as he drew on the power of nature, Remus felt magic flood through him, far more than he had ever experienced in the wastes of the Nether, or even on war torn Earth so long ago. This Azeroth was rich in ambient magic of the wild, and something more beyond it, seeming to try to reach out to him.

However, there was no time to think of mysterious beckoning from beyond, as Fenrir was already whirling to attack again, and Remus lost a few feathers close to his face for his hesitation. He responded on instinct, releasing a gust of rushing wind to throw the Alpha backward, "You will not rule this pack anymore, Greyback," Remus declared, shifting back to his wolf form, "Your plans are sheer insanity, and I will not allow you to destroy innocent wolves in your crusade for power."

"Destroy him!" Greyback snarled, losing all sense of honor in their duel, and the other Fel empowered werewolves stalked forward. That had been what Remus was waiting for. He had known from the moment that he learned Fenrir leaded this pack that it would come down to Remus against all those who had embrace the Fel absolutely.

As soon as they approached en mass, roots and vines erupted from the stone around Remus, seizing each of the wolves and dragging them, baying and howling, through the floor to the ground floor. Fenrir bellowed a roar of rage, but Remus was already moving. Sliding into his feline form, he sprinted away, darting around the sweeping claws of Greyback and down the stairs outside the main chamber. The lashing of his tail was the final goad he needed to get Fenrir to take up the chase.

He needed to get the Felwolves out of the keep, where his magic would be slower to arrive through the stone and tile. Out in the open, the other werewolves had no chance against him.

Skidding to a halt outside the gates among the trees of Fenris Isle, Remus whirled, effortlessly changing back into the form of a man, even more to appear weakened and prey-like to the maddened Felwolves. They leapt at the chance to charge him, thinking probably that their numbers would more than make up for his skill in the natural arts.

Remus almost pitied them for what happened next. Guardians of the forests, treants, surged up from between the bushes and trees, hemming in the attacking wolves, herding them exactly where Remus desired them to be.

Winds surged around Remus, snatching up every Felwolf that approached, and tossing them into the air in cyclones. Fenrir tried to leap over the treants to reach Remus, but the tree-men grasped the werewolf in their wooden arms and hurled him into the midst of his trapped packmates. "I rule this island now," Remus said, appreoached the spinning whirlwind of fur and fangs, "If you return, I will kill any wolf whose embraced the Fel and seeks to fight us. Now begone!"

The vortex surged, flinging Fenrir and his loyalists off past the harbor into the waters of the lake. Most of the other Worgen had gathered there, waiting while Remus dealt with the return of Fenrir, and they watched as the Fel empowered former leaders of their pack yelped and struggled to paddle away from the island. They crawled onto the far bank, drenched and nearly drowned. Remus resumed his natural state, watching with yellow eyes as Fenrir glared back across the lake. Remus howled in challenge and victory, to let all of Silverpine know that he led now, and calling out anyone else that dared to counter his claim.

"What are we to do now, Alpha?" asked a young wolf, still learning the basic arts of druidism from Remus.

"We reinforce out island, keep a watch in case Fenrir tries to return, notify the Dark Horde of the change of our leadership, and we send scouts south, to follow a lead about this wolf cult that had allied with Greyback." Remus stated, quickly categorizing the priorities of events.

He was not looking forward to meeting Nobu'tan again, but if they were to get a scouting party south quickly, they had to use their ships. That meant reassuring the warlock that his werewolf soldiers were still members of his Dark Horde, but they were under new leadership, and not mindless berserkers for him to use as shock troops anymore, not unless Remus agreed.

"Send word to Blackrock Mountain, I will need to travel there soon and speak with Nobu'tan," Remus said, sighing to himself as he turned back to Fenris Keep.

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Tyrande frowned at the report that had come from the Hinterlands.

Another emerald portal had been seen there, but it was dormant, with no green dragonspawn or any sign of corruption waiting there. It had taken far longer than she wished, with many of her people unwilling to travel far across the sea, but finally they had found enough that would make the trip to investigate the portals that were found on the eastern continent.

That, unfortunately, left just one to investigate, in the central glades of Duskwood, nearest to Stormwind itself. It was the perfect opportunity to return and bring her grievances with the Dark Horde to Varian Wyrnn personally, as well as investigate for a chance that her Beloved might be held within the Emerald Dream.

It bothered her that this had gone on as long as it did. Malfurion belonged at her side, among the waking of their people to lead them through the troubling times. Tyrande was aware that the long years of her vigil had jaded her against other races, and only the calming wisdom of her love caused her to be more tolerant.

"Prepare ships, we are going to Stormwind, and from there to Duskwood, to investigate the final gateway," she commanded the nearest priestess, before Tyrande gazed out over the city of Darnassus, high in the upper floors of the Temple of Elune.

Goddess willing, some answers may be found, for one or the other of the troubles plaguing the Kaldorei. The slightest tug on her mind, which Tyrande had always known was the subtle will of Elune, seemed to indicate that going across the sea was the correct course of action, and she smiled to herself.

"Tyrande…" whispered a voice that sounded like her Beloved on the wind.

"Furion…" she said, letting slip the personal name that she reserved for his ears only, the endearment that she had for her one love.

Turning sharply, she started for the exit of the Temple. It had been a strange time for her people, with Tyrande herself departing many times from their city, and it seemed that there would be no end to the strangeness for the time being, so long as they were allied with the mortal races of the world.

She would be the first to the ship for Stormwind, and every moment that separated her from investigating the Duskwood portal would feel like another century on her heart.

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Blaise had come to an accord with Lady Halforcen.

It had been a strange request that they meet in secret, so close to the place where Nobu'tan worked furiously to arrange the forces of the Dark Horde that were still celebrating out on the fields of the Burning Steppes. However, the proposition that she had made him was intriguing, and he was not too proud to say that he did hold her in a great deal of respect.

"Shall we inform the Grand Warlock of our intentions, then?" the assassin said, nodding toward the closed door. Teg'Ramm had departed not long ago, and they both knew that no one else had come to disturb Nobu'tan, meaning they would be able to share their decision with him in private.

"No time like the present, before more chaos consumes his mind," Blaise said, smirking. Together, they entered and found the Chieftain of the Stormreavers in a frenzy of paperwork, notes and letters flying across the room by command of his magic, even as the blazing eyes of the warlock gazed across a battlemap of their lands, calculations flying past him that only he could see.

"Not to intrude on you important work, Pup," Garona started, and Nobu'tan spun, clearly annoyed that the two assassins had, once again, succeeded on getting past his powerful senses and startling him.

"What is it?" he asked, after recovering his composure in a flash.

"We, Garona and myself, wish to seek your blessing to form a clan of our own," Blaise explained quickly.

That quickly drew the full attention of their leader. "Amid the conflict in Northrend, and safeguarding the affairs here, I had taken to training many of the rogues and spies of the various clans that remained here in reserve," Garona took up explaining.

"We wish to take these assassins, and form a complete clan, subservient to the Stormreavers, so that we can spread the skills that Garona and I have learned through the wars in Outland and Northrend," Blaise added, already seeing the pleased grin spreading across Nobu'tan's face.

"A shadow blade, poised over the necks of all who would oppose the Dark Horde…" Nobu'tan said, and the three of them smiled at the perfect name for such a clan of secret assassins.

"It would be best to keep the existence of such a clan secret for the time being, until it is time for our foes to know that we can strike at them when and where they least expect," Nobu'tan added. "Both the Alliance and the Kalimdor Horde feel secure by their secret protectors, the Jungle Troll Shadow Hunters and SI:7 for the Alliance…"

"But now our Shadow Blade Clan will rival their arts of subtly and guile, and even they will fall under our blades, if they become a threat to us." Blaise said.

"I fear that that day may be upon us sooner than we wish to consider," Nobu'tan said grimly, glancing at the stack of letters that had been waiting for him. "Messages from spies in both factions, as eyes turn away from Northrend they are returning to old grudges and seeking recompense, things that I am not willing to surrender simply because they demand them of us…"

"That is troubling," Garona started, but she turned moments before a sharp pounding on the door they had entered sounded. Both assassins quickly concealed themselves, leaving Nobu'tan seemingly alone as the door banged open, revealing a pair of Blackrock grunts, as well as a tall wolfin figure.

At first, Blaise suspected it was Fenrir Greyback, but the wolf was too thin for the Grimfang Alpha. Additionally, the robes and staff he had were nothing that the werewolves had fashione din their time here on Azeroth, to Blaise's knowledge.

Sharing a glance with Garona from their hiding places, it seemed she was just as perplexed. "Lord Nobu'tan," the lead grunt said, "This one demands an audience with you, and would not be dissuaded until permitted to at least see you."

Nevertheless, even the Stormreaver chieftain had paused in surprise at the newcomer. "I should have suspected that more than just Black had come to this world. Welcome, Remus Lupin, to Blackrock Mountain."

The name of Lupin was not one that Blaise had ever suspected to hear again after the destruction of Earth. Let alone to see the man…wolf… boldly to barge into their stronghold and demand to speak with Nobu'tan.

"Nobu'tan, it has been too long since the battlefields of old Terra…" the werewolf said, almost casual in his approach.

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Nobu'tan was instantly on high alert.

He remembered the thorn in the side of the Legion that was Remus Lupin, Archdruid of the Wolf. The man had single-handedly destroyed and liberated countless prison camps, and had personally assassinated many Legion commanders. He had even caused the exodus of the Black Harvest to be delayed by the constant raids and attacks.

The fact that he had survived was not a real surprise, given the recent appearance of Sirius Black, but for him to be here might lead to violence, despite the seemingly amiable nature of the werewolf's demeanor.

Nobu'tan knew that, magically, he was more than an equal for Lupin, and the wolf did not know all of the changes that had happened to him physically, but if they came to blows it would be a dangerous fight, even with Garona and Blaise on hand.

The wolf could smell the caution on Nobu'tan, and held up a hand, "I am not here with violence in mind, Warlock." He said, not sounding soothing in the slightest, "merely to deliver information in exchange for transportation…"

"Speak then," Nobu'tan replied, unwilling to lower his guard even if they Light-oriented werewolf gave his word.

"The Grimfang pack is now under my leadership," Lupin said, delivering a severe blow to the mind of the Stormreaver chieftain. He had been hoping to make excellent use of the pack in keeping the Forsaken in check for the foreseeable future, but Lupin would not want to get involved, or even side with the undead out of vengeance against Nobu'tan personally.

"You should be aware that Greyback still lives," Lupin continued, however, "his plan was to inevitably betray you, and take all of the northern kingdoms for himself, in a mighty Worgen empire. I have prevented this for now, but he will likely try to achieve it another way."

Why the man would bother telling him that information, Nobu'tan did not know, but he felt that it was truthful.

"I seek transportation for a select number of Worgen, as well as myself, to Duskwood in the south, where other allies of Greyback have been causing problems, as well as seeking an item of power. I know that he will want to use this item to try and command other lycanthropes that currently do not serve him." Lupin said commandingly, "As you created this monster, it is the least you can do to aid me in declawing him."

"I see no harm in assisting you," Nobu'tan replied quickly, not eager to potentially anger Lupin by denying a simple thing. If the man could still walk in human form, he could easily travel through any of their seeded settlements in the Kingdom of Stormwind.

"Good… then I will await your representatives on Fenris Isle… and take heed. We are not your playthings in your game of war and politics… I seek only the Legion's end…"

"You will find that upon the matter of the Legion, we are very like minded…" Nobu'tan said, even as Lupid turned and walked away, likely back the way he came to the established portal area to Fenris Keep.

"Lupin's appearance, so soon after Black's, this is a worrisome trend…" Blaise said as he and Garona reappeared from the shadows.

"Old enemy of your, I preume?" the half orc asked, more curious than concerned.

"Something like that," Nobu'tan replied, not desirous to get into the sordid details of his time on the world of his birth.

"If anything of his mannerisms and words is to be believed, if we leave him to his devises, he'll not interfere with us," Blaise continued, "and we may still have the assistance of the Grimfang, just not as devotedly as before… I do hope that Greyback doesn't make an attempt to force us to reclaim his pack for him."

"Unlikely," Nobu'tan said, "Fenrir was very independent, even when I converted him to the Fel… after the transformation, the only reason he still served us was because he knew I held the power to destroy him and his pack utterly."

"As if we needed this complication in the midst of everything else," Grona interjected, glancing over the still heavily loaded table of missives, maps, and correspondence.

Nobu'tan sighed, "Yes," he admitted, "it is a very inopportune event, but as always, we must press on…

"Does that include this?" Garona pressed, holding up the half-completed response to the Warchief of the Kalimdor Horde.

Nobu'tan stiffened. He had been uncertain about meeting the orc in an isolated place, even if the orc's honor would not allow much in the way of treachery, but the matters he wished to discuss seemed genuine enough, even if strikingly strange for one Warchief to seek out a rival faction leader's opinion.

"Yes, I plan to send that shortly, and have all out preparations in place before I go and meet with Thrall…" Nobu'tan said.

"And who are you selecting to go with you, in the event of untoward attempts on your life?" Blaise asked, his eyes afire with the same knowing look he always gave when Nobu'tan had an assignment for him.

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Onslaught Harbor was in complete chaos.

Apparently, the leadership of the Scarlet Onslaught had abruptly abandoned them all, once news of the battle turning against them returned, and Commander Brigitte Abbendis took off instantly upon their arrival in order to try to restore order.

Sirius, on the other hand, released a pulse of holy energy, letting the measure of the camp return to him. There was a corrupted core to this stronghold, like a beating heart of darkness nestled close on all sides by the Light.

He would begin his investigation there, to find the crux of this matter. The Nott boy had wielded both Light and Shadow, twisting the opposing forces in what could only be considered an abomination. The fact that the artifact still existed, in his possession no less, was not the primary concern for the Lightforged human however, but the how and why such a weapon was created.

Many of the fanatical crusaders paused in the wake of Sirius' passage. The determination gave a cold edge to the aura of passion that normally swam around the Paladin and wizard. To the central cathedral he went, but not the main entrance.

Around the back of the stone edifice was a strange, semi-hidden cellar door was placed just off the main path, which led to what would normally have been a series of delving catacombs. Here however, the wafting power of darkness and void magic emanated, and why the other Lightsworn beings remained completely oblivious, Sirius was beginning to suspect.

Into the darkness he descended, his being shining like a torch in the gloom. There was no simple way to get where he needed to be, except to slog through the undesirable muck and mire of the underbelly of the cathedral, where the shadows grew just out of sight of the light it hid beneath.

There had been horrific things done here, Sirius could sense it. Death, torture, and many vile rituals had been conducted, and yet none of those above had even a whiff of understanding or suspicion about it.

And the magic, it rang as sinisterly familiar to many which Sirius had fought against across countless worlds. "Nathrezim…" he seethed, and he started to see scrawled runes, carved by the sharpened claws of the Legion-serving fiends.

The Dreadlords had had a very particular way of going about destroying a people, and uncovering their schemes had been one of the surest ways for the Army of the Light to secure another world away from the Legion's control.

With the help of the redeemed Lothraxian, Sirius had learned much of the Nathrezim and their plots, and this reeked of their manipulation.

The inclusion of one of their mortal wizards in their scheme was troubling, but Sirius put thoughts of the future out of his mind, focusing on what he had to do when he reached the center of this dark nexus.

Only when he arrived, in the deepest part of the hidden cellar, did his suspicions become confirmed. This place rang with the same magic that throbbed through Light's Warth, and was indeed the place where its core was formed.

Furthermore, without more knowledge on just how the weapon was created there would be no means of destroying it here, unless Sirius wanted to risk a magical backlash that would remove much of the surrounding landscape and anyone standing on it. However, that did not mean that he had to leave this dark power to rot beneath a location of the Light.

Taking up the staff in his hand, Sirius grimaced as the shadowy magic within tried to fight him, commanding the Light to surge through the weapon, and draw all the magic of its creation back into it.

True, this would make the artifact far stronger, and more resilient against those that used the Light alone, but the other option was unacceptable. What horrors would be drawn to this place in the nexus was left unattended. Greedily, Light's Wrath drank up the magic of its birth, the darkness within it surging and growing, but Sirius fed his own connection to the Light into the weapon as well, maintaining a balance through sheer force of will.

While he could not purify the weapon to the power of Light only, neither was he willing to let it fall to a total eclipsing shadow.

Agonizingly, the weapon did as he wished, and the catacombs were drained of the taint, leaving just the weapon as it surged with all the new, unrestrained magic. Sirius did not know what to do to secure the weapon, but that was something he was going to ask for other's advice for.

These fanatics may try to use such a tool again for ill purposes, but he suspected that his godson, Nobu'tan, would see the dangers of this volatile weapon, and aid him in secreting it away where no one would have access, unless the right individual came with a monumental amount of need for such unfathomable power.

Wrapping the weapon with cloth to shroud it from view, Sirius departed the crypt, returning to the surface just as Commander Abbendis arrived to search for him. She was eager to report that those who had been closes to Nott had all vanished, and although it meant that she was left the sole commander of the Onslaught, there were many who would still not accept her commands.

Sighing, Sirius knew what she desired of him, and he was resigned that it must be this way. While these may fight against outside foes like the Legion, Sirius was not certain how well the Scarlet Onslaught would work alongside the other factions, especially the Dark Horde.