Lost Lion

Disclaimer! I don't own Wow. Blizz does, and your soul too.

Volume 3: Prologue

*** Stranglethorn Vale – Western Coast ***

Orgrim Doomhammer, Warchief of the Horde, observed the formidable armada of ships gathered along the shoreline from his position on the beach. Close to a hundred vessels, each capable of carrying five hundred warriors, floated upon the sea while another hundred were in production on the beach. Many of these ships bore the banners of the Blackrock or the newly established Stormreaver clan. It was Gul'dan's pet ogre, Cho'gall, who led the effort to master the seas.

The ogre warlock was currently not here; he was often traveling back and forth from and to wherever he had hid Gul'dan from Ner'zhul's assassins. The distance from Stranglethorn Vale to the Swamp of Sorrows was considerable. Doomhammer knew this since his forces kept a watchful eye on the ogres and the pink skins. His extensive spy net ensured that no human scouts could penetrate too deeply into their territory and discover their plans. Indeed, the time was drawing near for the human kingdom of Stormwind to finally fall once and for all.

"We're making good progress, boss," declared the goblin leader with a toothy grin known as 'Prince' Steamwheedle. "Won't be long before we finish your orders. Then, you'll let us have the rest of your lands, right, Warchief?"

"Not until after the success of our attack," Orgrim replied, fixing the diminutive creature with a stern gaze. "That was our agreement, Goblin."

Doomhammer had quickly learned that goblins were a greedy race, willing to do anything for gold, precious metals, and gems. The fool didn't seem to grasp how insignificant these riches were to the Horde. What good was gold when your people were starving? What good were gems compared to a warrior's axe or his own warhammer? In the end, he struck a bargain with the foolish race, and they could keep the gold mines within his territory for as long as they kept supplying ores to the dark iron slaves' forges.

"You're sure you wanna tussle with the humans?" the trade prince inquired once more, his skepticism evident. "There's a lot of them, you know."

"Not for long." Doomhammer growled. "My spies report that Grom and his Horde have breached the human lands in the north. It's only a matter of time before they fall."

The goblin prince still appeared unconvinced but relented with a sigh. "Well, can't make that money if we don't take a bit of risk, right?"

Doomhammer chose not to reply to the little creature's attempt at boot licking.

"Oh, and I forgot tah mention this in our last meeting, but how about I take that fleet of yours out to sea?" the smaller creature asked him suddenly.

"For what purpose?" Doomhammer asked warily, wary of alerting the human naval forces of his intentions.

"Training, you know? Your boys need to get their sea legs, but more than that, I just found a whole colony of giant turtles southwest from here," Prince Steamwheedle said with a toothy grin. "I figure they can cut their teeth on capturing them."

"Hmm." Doomhammer pondered the goblin request. "We could always use more food."

"What?" The goblin said in shock. "I mean, don't get me wrong, they're good eating, but I didn't want to catch them to eat, boss man."

"Then what use are these 'giant' turtles?" Doomhammer rebuked the smaller green goblin.

"Well, I figure once we domesticate them, we can put big ole explosive rockets on them!" The goblin's eyes turned manic. "Best of all, the turtles would be underwater, and the human ships would never see them coming!"

Doomhammer's eyes widened as he realized the implication of such an advantage, but he was still cautious. "Take only half of our sea army for now. If they perform well, take the other half."

"Minimizing the risk, eh?" The goblin grinned. "I can respect that!"

"Speaking of risk, there's still no sign of your fleet." Orgrim narrowed his eyes at the diminutive creature. "Where are they?"

"Relax, boss man! Relax! They're coming, don't you worry!" The goblin prince laughed. "The full Steamwheedle fleet will be here on time, promise!"

"They had better." Doomhammer gave the goblin a pointed look before he walked from over the sands of the beach to the crudely constructed shipyards of their newest allies.

Standing taller than most orcs was a creature with skin that was different from his own. Where his was green, the tall creature was blue. Where he had five fingers the creature had four. And where his tusk was large for an orc, the creature had comically larger creature was the leader of his people, and it was through him that Doomhammer would attain victory over the humans.

"Ah, Warchief," Sen'jin, leader of the Darkspear troll tribe, greeted him. "Da fleet be comin' along nicely. Ya people really know dem way 'round building ships, mon."

"My clan was always exceptional at building anything. That's why we lead while the others follow," Orgrim said to enlighten the troll leader.

The trolls were a species that could have been taller than the average orc had they not hunched their backs for some reason. However, even if they stood tall, Doomhammer would still be taller. He was not known as the biggest orc of the Horde for no reason.

"Come, come. Ya can inspect ya boys. Dey be gettin' trained hard, mon," Sen'jin replied, beckoning the orc Warchief to follow him.

Doomhammer did so, and for a time, the two leaders watched as the trolls of the Darkspear tribe taught orcs from various clans to sail their ships. It was fortunate that Varok encountered the Darkspear trolls while they were under attack by another tribe. The tribe had seafaring ships and was on the cusp of leaving their land for a new home where they wouldn't be attacked.

The Darkspear tribe leader's confession inadvertently showed Doomhammer a way to bring the human kingdom down. All this time, he had been preparing to push in hard and fast against the human line. It would be a brutal, bloody battle, as he had firsthand experience with them, but they would win. They weren't Draenei after all, but in a sick and twisted way, Doomhammer's Horde had come to gain a grudging respect for them.

With the Darkspear leader's revelation, however, they now had a new avenue of attack. Maps that he had gained from the sacked human settlements in their territory showed that the harbor was all but defenseless. He knew the humans would have war ships to guard that path, but could they still defend their harbor if the entirety of his Horde flooded into their lines?

Grom's idea in allying with the goblins gave him the idea to find goblins of his own, and it just so happened that one of the largest of their clans was to the south. For the mining rights to the Gorgrond mountains, the goblins were willing to help with their impressive Juggernauts. They would be engaging the human fleet while the rest of the Horde—loaded on the faster troll ships—would flood their way through their blockade and sack the city.

All it had cost him was a small war with the Bloodscalp tribes, and he had gained an ally in the seafaring Darkspears. It was unfortunate for the Bloodscalp that his scarred warriors were eager to take out their anger and frustration on an easier opponent. While the Darkspears were not numerous, they were still formidable, and their spear throwers were even better than his own. Fighting side by side with Sen'jin, he came to appreciate the troll tribal leader's shadowy method of combat. What his orcs warriors did not finish, the Darkspears would hunt down from the shadows.

With his warships, he was going to cut off the head of the human leader and paralyze the human army in one fatal stroke. Then, from their city, he could leisurely slaughter the remaining humans while the Frostwolves push in from the east. Once their position was secure, then—and only then—would he deal with Grom Hellscream.

However, things had a way of changing when he least expected. There was a commotion, and he soon recognized one of Durotan's best warriors making his way toward him.

An Orgrim honor guard, comprised mostly of ogres, stood in front of their Warchief and barred the Frostwolf rider's way.

"No approach the Warchief!" the head ogre shouted challengingly.

The Frostwolf warrior bared his tusk before he looked past the ogre. "Warchief! I bring news from my Chieftain. News of Hellscream!"

Doomhammer looked around, and without needing a command, everyone saved Sen'jin and the trade prince left the vicinity.

"What is it?" he asked finally.

"Hellscream has fallen," the Frostwolf warrior said bluntly. Yet, those three words shook Doomhammer to his core. Grommash Hellscream was not weak. How could he have fallen? Were the humans to the north that much stronger?

"How?" Orgrim demanded.

"By human treachery," the Frostwolf orc spat. "They taunted him, fought in a despicable manner, and lured him into their city where they used some foul sorcery to cut him off from the rest of his clan."

Doomhammer blinked at that, yet he could not deny that Grom would be the type to be easily baited. He would have done something similar if he had to face Hellscream himself.

"Surrounded by thousands of enemies, he was overwhelmed and killed," the Frostwolf looked disgusted.

Doomhammer's mind was as chaotic as a brewing storm as he considered the repercussions. "Is the Warsong force still intact?"

"As far as our spies know, Warchief," the orc answered.

"Wat dis mean, mon? Ya be the leada now of ya mighty Horde?" Sen'jin asked. The troll was genuine in his question; unfortunately, he did not know orc culture.

They would only follow the strong, and while Fenris was no Durotan, he was still an able leader. If he wanted the northern Horde to follow him, he had to show them that they needed him. More importantly, he had to show them they could not win without him. A mad plan began forming in his mind, one that he had not considered before, but now that he had two new allies, perhaps…

"Tell Draka to continue to be my ears in the north." Orgrim dismissed the Frostwolf, who saluted him before leaving. "Sen'jin, continue your shipbuilding, and you, Steamwheedle, get me those turtles."

Doomhammer saw it, the path to total victory over the forces of this new world. Now, he needed to talk with Cho'gall. If anyone could help him pull off his mad plan, it would be Gul'dan's pet. Though Gul'dan would have been better, foul as the warlock was, he was undeniably powerful.

Perhaps, by this time next year, the humans will have gone the way of the Draenei.

*** Dalaran – The Violet Citadel ***

Grand Magus Antonidas observed as the newest troops from Lordaeron exited the portal and set foot inside his city. Due to the threat they were facing, it was decided that while the Council of the Six was a perfectly good governing body during peacetime, in wartime, they needed a clear leader. Surprisingly, all five of his peers nominated him to be the 'Grand Magus'—the voice that would lead them in these dark times. Being attuned to the city, he felt the dip in arcane energies as more soldiers portaled in.

Because of the fickle nature of portals, the Kirin Tor had set up a dedicated portal room right in the center of the city. This kept the non-magical away from any of the more sensitive areas of the city and guarded their secrets from prying eyes. To ensure those secrets stayed just that, a path from the portal room was created to the city exit to help expedite troop movement. The de facto leader of the Council of the Six watched as hundreds of troops poured in nonstop and winced in sympathy at the burden his portal mages had to carry.

Even though the portal was opened at their insistence, it was not without cost. A single portal mage could probably ferry over forty people without too much of an obvious strain on their mana reserves. When a portal was open, it was the mage's arcane energy that was wrapped around the individual and ferried over to the exit spot. Depending on the power of the person, it might cost more for the mage's arcane energy to allow them to traverse the distance.

Thanks to Lady Aegwynn's postulations, tapping into the leylines did indeed reduce the mage's burden by up to ninety percent, but it still needed a mage's guiding hand. That was why the Kirin Tor had dozens of mages working in eight-hour shifts around the clock to keep the portal running. They even had to lend some to Lordaeron since the largest human kingdom had hedge wizards at best. As for Quel'thalas and Stormwind, they both had their own magi orders and thus required no help.

Normally, Antonidas didn't need to be overseeing the portal room, but today was different. The reason why was the archmage standing next to him. For the first time since Kael'thas' disastrous defeat, a true mage battle group was going to be sent with the army to the Bulwark. Before, the Horde had merely fought fresh-faced mage graduates. Now, they would deal with veteran mages who had much more to show.

"It looks like they are almost done." Antonidas turned to face his respected peer, Archmage Kel'Thuzad. "Are the one hundred ready?"

"As ready as they could be, Grand Magus," Archmage Kel'Thuzad replied.

The archmage and member of the Council of the Six was as old as Antonidas, yet he had never sought to lead. Instead, he had merely focused on the study of the higher mysteries. It was why they were all surprised when said archmage volunteered to be the first of the Six to personally lead their mage battle group. Though, Antonidas suspected it had to do with how the 'Necrolyte' of these orcs were able to raise dead soldiers so easily. It was no secret that Kel'Thuzad had a somewhat worrisome interest in necromancy, but the man knew never to cross the line.

"I shall be sure to document their magical abilities in greater detail," Kel'Thuzad promised before a twelve-foot rock creature lowered itself so the archmage could get on its shoulder. He was not the only one as a hundred mages also rode on top of hastily crafted golems. The soldiers of Lordaeron—no, the Alliance—stared in awe as Dalaran showed off its arcane might.

"Godspeed, my friend," Antonidas said in a low whisper. He was content to watch the Alliance forces gradually turn into a dot in the distance. At least, until a butterfly flew in front of him. It was almost real enough to pass for a genuine one save for its coloring, which was an unnatural blood red. It was also composed of pure arcane energy with intricate spellwork at its core.

Its purpose was to send discrete messages away from prying eyes. Grabbing the butterfly gently in his hand, he was able to decipher the message it carried before it dissipated. Antonidas raised his staff as he gathered arcane energy to the tip of it before striking the ground. Bluish arcane energy leapt from his staff to cover him before removing him from the public eye.

A moment later, he was in the chamber of another member of the Council of Six.

Many new students of the Kirin Tor often mistook this archmage for Prince Kael'thas. After all, they were both blond-haired handsome elves and both had their share of admirers from sorceresses from all over the city. Eventually the uninitiated would learn how to tell the two masters of the arcane apart.

If only they knew the truth.

"Welcome back, Lord Korialstrasz," Antonidas greeted in a friendly manner. "Were you able to speak with her majesty?"

Of all the secrets of the Kirin Tor, none were guarded more closely than Lord Korialstrasz—or rather, as he was known in Dalaran, Archmage Krasus. Only he and Prince Kael'thas knew of the only other elf mage on the Council's true nature. The elven archmage was, in fact, a dragon, and not just any low level beast, but one from the powerful and benevolent red dragonflight. However, even among the red flight, his status was not pedestrian. For he was the consort of the red dragon queen herself, albeit the youngest one of Alexstrasza, the Life Binder.

"You are looking well, Antonidas, but yes, I have," the 'archmage' answered. He then hesitated slightly before he continued. "She has also been made aware of the situation."

The elderly human waited for the dragon in disguise to finish, but apparently, that was all he had to say. Not satisfied, Antonidas pushed for a more detailed answer.

"And?" he prompted.

The owner of the false elven eyes broke eye contact with the human ones and let out a soft sigh. "And...there will be no help forthcoming from the red flight."

The answer shocked the newly appointed Grand Magus. "What? Why? Surely she could see the threat that is the Burning Legion—"

'Archmage' Krasus held up a hand to interrupt the elderly human. "The Queen's scouts have returned with their findings. While the orcs are fel-touched, there are no signs of the Legion itself."

"But Lady Aegwynn—"

"They have entered the red world of Draenor and spotted no army of fel hounds, brutish doomguards, nor behemoth Pit or Dread Lords waiting beyond its gates. Even when the former guardian battled Sargeras Avatar all those centuries ago, he came with a demon army." Krasus let loose a regretful sigh. "And because of those findings, this entire war is being considered a mortal issue. One she has decreed to be settled with mortal hands."

He couldn't believe it. No signs of the Legion?! "Lord Callan has fought Sargeras—"

"—and apparently vanquished him," Krasus rebutted. "For all we know, that could have just been a small echo of the Legion's master. Clearly, he could do little besides possess a mortal, albeit a powerful one, but nothing on the scale of an avatar.

Something wasn't adding up. A simple 'no' would have sufficed. Why was Krasus giving out excuses unless…

"What are you not telling us?" The Grand Magus asked bluntly. The dragon in elven form gave a wry smile at his line of questioning.

"Always the one with the more astute mind, Antonidas, even among your peers," Krasus complimented before he revealed the truth. "The Queen is more concerned with the movement of the black dragonflight than a war between mortals."

Antonidas blinked. That's when he remembered that Lady Aegwynn did bring news of Deathwing to the Council of Six. Was this the result of her warning about the false Lord Prestor? Dalaran had discreetly sent their strongest mages and two of the Council to investigate the Prestor line in Alterac and found the nobles of that house had gone missing. The mages had kept the result silent and only let King Terenas know the results of their findings.

Since then, Dalaran had been investigating the other noble houses in the Alliance for other signs, while Lady Aegwynn was responsible for the scrutiny of the nobles of Stormwind. Yet another reason why the mages of Dalaran had yet to be able to send their best to the front lines until now. They had to guard against the enemies behind their backs.

"So Lord Callan's words were proven to be truthful, regarding Deathwing," Antonidas said.

"Yes… these so-called 'Agents of the Light' that he spoke of seem privy to many secrets on Azeroth," Krasus said with a cautious expression. "One has to wonder what else they know."

"At the very least, we know they are on our side if Lord Callan's feat is to be believed," the Grand Magus said.

"Perhaps," Krasus agreed.

Antonidas recalled being in a meeting with the remaining Council of Six when they felt a dark power growing in the east. The powerful, sinister feeling seemed to press down on them, but suddenly, it was gone. Most of Dalaran did not feel it; only those who were masters of the higher mastery of the arcane arts had felt the foreboding presence.

It wasn't until tales of the Siege of Stromgarde and stories of 'Callan's Rebuke' were told that one of their archivists was able to match up the dates. Now, a group had been put together to study the Light because if it was powerful enough to do that, what else could it do?

Dalaran may be at war, but that didn't mean they couldn't continue to learn while they were at it.

"One other matter," Krasus spoke once more. "My Queen has expressed interest in meeting Thoradin's heir once he is no longer…indisposed."

Antonidas raised an eyebrow. "For something like that, you would have to take it up with Lady Aegwynn."

Krasus' expression showed that he was not looking forward to such a meeting with the former guardian.

*** Kalimdor – Ashenvale ***

'—this is wrong. This is Wrong. This IS Wrong. THIS IS WRONG!'

"Shando Staghelm?"

Archdruid Fandral Staghelm blinked at the sound of Shandris Feathermoon, daughter of Tyrande Whisperwind, the High Priestess of Elune, as she brought her report to him. The second-in-command of the Sentinels, the military arm of the Night Elves, looked at him with concern. What had they been talking about?

"Are you well, Shando?" the Night Elf general asked once more, motioning for someone to come from the entrance.

"Wait," Fandral held up a hand to stop any call for aid. "I am not in need of—"

'THIS IS WRONG! WRONG! WRONG! WRONG! WRONG!'

"Get a priestess," Shandris ordered one of her Sentinels, whose name she did not know, or perhaps he had simply forgotten. "Something is wrong with the Shando."

"Could this be the Satyrs' doing?" the unknown elf asked. "They have not been spotted near the druid enclave."

'Flesh was his gift. It has been stolen!'

That's right, the Satyrs. For some reason, they had gone mad recently and had been launching assault after assault into Night Elven towns. General Feathermoon was here because Staghelm had led his forces against them thousands of years ago. He had also fought by the general's side against the Silithid in the War of the Shifting Sands. The same war where he had lost his—

'There is no more diamond king! He is lost!'

"I am fine," Fandral said more forcefully, trying to drown out the voices screaming in his head. "How have your Sentinels responded? Have we found their nest?"

The daughter of Tyrande gave him a long look before she shot a glance at her lieutenant. "That was what we were discussing—the proper measures to counterattack. I had my Sentinels reinforce the weaker towns, but we want to know if you can awaken the druids to help us combat them."

'The table has been upended! How will the Boy-King serve his master?!'

Fandral closed his eyes tightly as the voices screamed louder than ever.

Once, they had been soothing, gentle, acting as a balm upon his spirit after his son had passed away, pointing out his true enemy. The Kaldorei had failed his son, so they all had to die, the voices said. And so he helped them, planting special seeds all throughout the Emerald Dream. These seeds would spread corruption to Ashenvale, and once all had been corrupted, he would be rewarded by being reunited with his son.

But what had happened to them? Why were they screaming so? There was no more comfort to be found. In fact, they sounded like madmen to him now. How had he ever found comfort in their presence? Could such mad voices fulfill their promise to bring his son back to—

'The Silvery Moon! It dares to shine!'

"Staghelm!"

The voice radiated such power that it drove the voices into hiding. Fandral's eyes widened as he realized that Shandris was no longer in front of him. Instead, it was the spiritual leader of their people, Tyrande Whisperwind herself.

"What—when did you get here, High Priestess?" Fandral asked, dazed.

"Shando," Shandris' daughter revealed herself as she stepped from her mother's shadow. "You have been unresponsive for quite some time. Even shaking you did not bring you out of your...inert state."

"Fandral?" Tyrande reached for him as if to check on his wellness.

Suddenly, a raging anger burned in his chest. The voices had soothed his hatred, his anger for this woman who had ordered his son to his death. They wanted him to look at the bigger picture, but they had gone mad. No longer did they soothe him, but instead, they irritated him. That same irritation made him slap the High Priestess's hand away violently.

"Don't touch me with your filthy hands, murderer!" Fandral bellowed, his voice filled with hate and suppressed resentment.

The reaction from the Sentinels was instant. Shandris had her sword by his neck, its sharp edge rested against his naked skin. The other Sentinels that he had not noticed were now in his room with their arrows notched and aimed in his direction. It was Tyrande who looked confused and surprised by his reaction.

The foolish wench!

The High Priestess recovered moments later and began in what she thought was a comforting tone. "I do not know what is going on with you, Staghelm, but—"

"Enough of your false platitudes!" Fandral interrupted her. The blade bit into his neck as a warning, but he was not afraid. He was a druid, second only to Malfurion, no, better. Before Feathermoon could react, he reached for the tainted seed he had planted nearby and forced it to grow.

The result was a short earthquake, just before blackened and corrupted tree roots shot up between him and the Sentinels. Credit to Tyrande's daughter, the girl tried to strike him down, but too many roots had sprung up between him and her. The archers fired their arrows, and some nearly struck him, but the corrupted roots acted like a shield.

"What is the meaning of this, Staghelm?!" Tyrande's voice was furious.

Gone was the false comforting tone. Now, Elune's priestess's true hypocritical nature was revealed for all to see. Fandral knew she craved power and was willing to sacrifice everyone to gain it. His son was the victim of her schemes because she was afraid of his growing influence. She had struck at his heart, and he had intended to slowly tear hers out.

However, the time for subterfuge was over.

"Hear me, priestess of a false goddess. I will make you pay for Valstann's death," Fandral glared at the priestess. "All that you hold dear will be destroyed. This, I promise!"

With that, Fandral turned into a massive owl and flew out of the closest window

"Staghelm!" Tyrande shouted after him. The rotten roots that had barred her way were cut by her daughter. The mother and daughter duo rushed over to the window to see Fandral's form turning into a dot in the sky.

"What is going on, mo—Priestess?" Shandris asked her mother.

Tyrande heard the shakiness in her daughter's voice. Her daughter was scared. Fandral was second only to her beloved Malfurion, and for some reason, he had turned on them, on her. She had disagreements with him before, but while she did not like him, she did respect him. She had assumed that he likewise felt the same way.

Clearly, she was wrong.

"I do not know, Shandris," Tyrande finally answered her daughter. "But, before he can do any more damage, we must speak with Cenarius and wake up my beloved. Strange things are afoot, and we would need both of them, I fear."

"Then…Shan—Archdruid Staghelm is our enemy now?" Shandris asked for confirmation.

Tyrande hesitated for a second before she nodded. Now, along with the satyrs who were launching aggressive raids on their lands, they needed to warn their people of Staghelm's madness. Still...if Staghelm felt this way about her all this time and kept it hidden, just how many more felt the same? Four moon cycles ago, things had not been this complicated.

Turning her head east, she wondered if everything that was happening had something to do with that burst of arcane magic she felt a year ago.

'Oh, my love,' Tyrande softly lamented. 'I need you by my side now more than ever.'

TBC...

AN: And here we go!

First of all thank you to Icura, he keep on cleaning up my mess and this fic is all the better for it!

Secondly, thank you to all my supporters, both new and old, every bit help and though I said it plenty I mean it. I am eternally grateful for your continued generosity! Thank you so much!

Now we come to it at last. Yes, I did what I did and if people have a problem jumping on board with killing humans. Keep in mind that they probably fought the humans on and of over the past thousand years. Also in Warcraft itself, it is not unusual for a race that was saved by another race instantly joined them to fight their enemy. See the Taurens and how they were ready to attack the Alliance just to help Thrall out who saved their people from the centuars. War make strange bedfellows. As for the mages, heh heh heh, and finally the voice. For those who knows, well they know :D I can't spoil to much and let you guys have it in the comments. Enjoy!

Once again, please considering supporting us on patron at "icuraandvahn" , Thank you.

Finally, as always, C+C and discussions are always welcomed!