I can't restate enough how pleased I am with the immediately popularity of this fic. the acceptance of it is very reassuring, even while my other fics are receive rather vindictive flames from people who think that they are, for whatever reason, more appropriate for writing my stories than myself, but I have chosen to move on from that, and instead focus on what I enjoy, making a good storyline with interesting characters. Therefore, enjoy!

Chapter Three

The Might of the Arcane

Archmage Kel'Thuzad of the Kirin Tor was not a man easily surprised, not with the amount of lore he had learned, both condoned and forbidden by his order. However, when it came to the small boy before him, barely ten years of age yet having a presence that betrayed a much older child, he found himself without words to engage the boy with.

Looking down at the letter in his hands once again, written by Khadgar himself no less, Kel'Thuzad was left with only one course of action. If the apprentice and successor to Medivh believed this boy to be of great worth to teach, than the boy must be taught the ways of the Magi, even if Kel'Thuzad had to do it himself.

Gauging the boy's levels of arcane potential yielded the reasons why Khadgar had sent the boy here. The possibilities with this child were limitless. Magic flowed in his every vein, part of the child himself rather than an aura that lingered upon him to use and consume. Commanding the vast elements of nature would be as child's play for this one, and who better to teach him than the most learned of all the leading members of the Kirin Tor.

"Tell me your name, son," Kel'Thuzad asked pleasantly, beckoning over a small magical tray with simple refreshment for the boy and himself. The child looked like he had walked for a long time, who knew how long until he met Khadgar in Southshore, and then the rest of the way to the Violet Citadel, possibly alone as well.

"I'm… uh…" the boy hesitated, clearly intimidated to be in the presence of a powerful Archmage like Kel'Thuzad.

"Come now, no need to be shy, speak up lad…" the Archmage urged gently.

"Tobias, sir… Tobias Banu…" the boy replied softly, eyes darting between the tray before him and Kel'Thuzad.

"Please, come sit and have something to eat. I have several questions I wish to ask before your training begins, apprentice…" Kel'Thuzad urged gently.

Eye widening, the boy obeyed, hastily grabbing several of the magic enriched breads and pastries from shops near the Violet Citadel. Kel'Thuzad had to chuckle at the boy's antics. It was clear that, much like himself at that age, Tobias didn't trust too quickly, and shrewdly withheld information until it was needed to be given. This was a wise instinct, one that Kel'Thuzad hoped to nurture in the years to come while the boy learned the arcane arts.

"What do you know about the Mages of Dalaran, Tobias?" he asked, hoping to spark a wonderfully instructive discussion.

The boy paused, swallowing his current bite of food before responding. "They are the only powerful, legally recognized organization of magic users in Azeroth…" he spoke softly, before diving in for another bite of the cake in his hand.

Kel'Thuzad nodded, it was correct, and something somewhat more than what he had expected from the youth. This spoke of someone who had done tiny bits of research, or had at least learned of something while he was with his parents, which was where Kel'Thuzad changed topics to next.

"And where is your mother and father right now?" he probed, searching the suddenly blank face for any telltale sign of a lie or deflection.

When the child gave no response, Kel'Thuzad suspected that ill will had befallen young Tobias' family, but to be sure, he whispered a small spell that allowed him to view a quick flash of insight to the boy's surface thoughts. What he saw confirmed his suspicions. An orc Warlock flashed into his mind, followed by an ogre, as well as a rotting human knight bearing the Stormwind insignia. If Kel'Thuzad didn't know better, he'd have almost guessed that the trio formed the boy's family, but it was impossibly. The Horde wanted nothing more than to destroy all races on this world.

"They're not with us anymore, are they, Tobias?" he asked gently, to which the boy nodded. Kel'Thuzad pressed no further on the matter. It was not his place to pry into an apprentice wizard's former life unless invited to do so. Perhaps in time young Tobias would open up to him, and they together could overcome the evils in the young boy's past.

"Well," Kel'Thuzad said after a few moments of silence, "I believe that's enough questions for me, why don't we get started with a tour of the Citadel?"

The boy perked up slightly, and smiled as Kel'Thuzad led him through the halls and past teaching rooms and other chambers in the Violet Citadel, softly explaining their many uses and what the boy could expect to learn within each.

The final part of the tour, which was the most important for various reasons, was the Arcane Vault. Letting the boy into the room gently, Kel'Thuzad ushered him from relic to relic, not only letting the boy see the wonders that magic had created over the years, but also allowing Kel'Thuzad to see what affinities the boy had for the various types of magic taught in Dalaran.

What he discovered was extraordinary. The boy's own magic, already so different from the magi of Dalaran in form, as it was part of the child himself, reached out naturally to each artifact, attuned already to all forms of magic. Kel'Thuzad was half tempted to take the boy to the darker part of the Vault, and see if he was also attuned to all the determined 'evil' magic that had been confiscated by the wizards over the years, but he restrained himself. No need to attempt any of that until they boy was old enough to responsibly handle it.

Nevertheless, there was little with magic that the boy could not do, and Kel'Thuzad wanted to do no less that broaden the child's horizons as much as possible. It would be years of hard work, possibly a lifetime, but the boy would do fantastic things, and when he finally reached the level of Archmage, Kel'Thuzad believed strongly that he would be the most powerful magi of Dalaran to ever live, short of the Guardians of Tirisfal of old.

Silently, while the boy gaze wide eyed at the magnificence of the Eye of Dalaran, he sent a short message via magic to the library, ordering copies of the three main paths of magic that most wizard took here, the path of the arcane, the path of fire, and the path of frost.

He would be patient, and see how quickly little Tobias took to these basic spells and forms, and then perhaps they'd move on to more advanced material. Nodding to himself, Kel'Thuzad had to hand it to Khadgar; he may not trust the man any more than he had Medivh, but he had a talent of finding powerful things purely by accident.

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Nobu'tan took to the learning of the human wizard's magic like a fish to water. The books that Kel'Thuzad had brought to him, after he quickly learned via magic to read the human and elven languages courtesy of the Archmage, he quickly devoured the tomes of much of their knowledge, coupling it greatly with his learning from Gul'dan.

Less than a week and he had already flown through the initial levels of a fledgling mage in Dalaran, much to the envy of those who were in the know of his appearance and tutelage. But for the most part Kel'Thuzad kept him away from the other initiates, stating that they would slow Nobu'tan down and he would flourish best without any outside interference. More likely, Nobu'tan suspected that the Archmage wanted all the glory of training Nobu'tan to himself, for whatever prestige it would bring him later on.

Not that that was going to be happening. After progressing to the point where Kel'Thuzad gave him free access to the libraries to learn as he pleased, Nobu'tan had quickly assembled a selection of original manuscripts, conveniently leaving the traceable copies in their place at the library, and had prepared a satchel to carry his treasures the long trek to Quel'Thalas to rejoin his true master. There was only one other thing he wanted before he would depart.

Stowing away to the Arcane Vault, Nobu'tan kept to the shadows, not even allowing the purple robes he wore to be seen by the arcane guardians of the place. Although he was permitted to be here, it would be best if no one knew how the item he desired was taken.

Passing through the arcane and more public area of the Vault, Nobu'tan slipped into the back, where the darker and more supposedly dangerous magical artifacts resided. Here there were things far more to his liking, necromantic rods and trinkets, as well as mounds of books on dread lore and all manner of objects that these wizards feared to use. It was laughable, and Nobu'tan would have taken them all off their hands if he could get away with it, but there was only time for him to take one.

Far in the back, on a pedestal lay a simple book, except that it was bound in the strangest leather that Nobu'tan had ever seen. From his studies he knew that it was demon hide, and the tome in question was a powerful book relating to the human's trifling with the extra planar beings, and the Legion that his master Gul'dan served.

Positively quivering in excitement, Nobu'tan gingerly lifted the book, stowing it away in his satchel so that none would see, and departed from the vault in stealth. In a way, it would be a pity to leave on such poor terms from the arcane city, but he had many things to remember it by, as well as the learning that he would be more than capable to merge with his warlock training by Gul'dan.

Kel'Thuzad was right about one thing however; Nobu'tan thought as he slipped out of the Citadel, he would be possibly the most powerful magic user that any had seen for years. It was a shame that he wouldn't be he serving them, but following a far different agenda.

Getting out of the city itself would be difficult; it would be doing it unseen that was the challenge. To alleviate suspicion towards himself, due to his youth, Nobu'tan wove the arcane arts to conjure a sentient elemental of water to walk with him. Most of the residents would never question a wizard with such an elemental, intimidated by the strange being of water, and that allowed Nobu'tan to pass through the streets to the main gate and exit without being accosted.

However, when attempting to pass the arcane golems that stood watch at the entrance, he was finally stopped by a violet robed figure. "You, apprentice, you're not supposed to be outside of the Citadel this late in the evening."

Thinking fast, Nobu'tan tried to bluff his way past the guarding wizard, "I'm on business for Archmage Kel'Thuzad, and I need to go out of the city to do it."

Unfortunately it didn't seem to faze the guard, "Unacceptable, Lord Kel'Thuzad knows better than to send a lowly apprentice out of the city after dark. I cannot allow you to pass; return to the Citadel and wait for morning to leave."

That was naturally not what Nobu'tan was planning on doing. But sadly, just by looking at the wizard before him with his two arcane sentinels, he would not be fighting his way out. Not that he wanted to draw that much attention in fleeing anyway.

"I cannot allow you to interfere with my mission for Master Kel'Thuzad," he said stubbornly, raising a hand and beginning to funnel magic through it. The wizard and his guards were instantly on edge, preparing for any sort of attack he would throw at them.

They must have been surprised then, when instead of any sort of attack spell, Nobu'tan redirected his magic inward, focusing on the spot far past them, and teleported a short distance past them, while the water elemental he conjured let out a torrent of water and ice, which was met with a vicious response by the arcane guardians.

The wizard however, whirled and began a pursuit of Nobu'tan, "Hey you stop!" he cried, launching off small bolts of fire and ice to hinder and corral the younger human but not injure.

Thinking fast, Nobu'tan bolted for the nearest line of trees, taking him out of view of the Violet Citadel and its massive towers. The wizard chased after him, his longer legs slowly catching up. But that was no matter now. As soon as he crashed into the undergrowth beneath the trees, Nobu'tan launched into the summoning chants for his demonic minions. First Xorton arose with an angered sigh, followed by the happy giggling of Quzkol the imp. Nobu'tan was about to bring back his water elemental as well when the wizard broke in upon them. "Here you are, what have…" he began chidingly, but froze at the sight of the demons standing protectively between Nobu'tan and himself.

"So that's it then…" the wizard continued coldly, his eyes burning in their sockets with rage, "the little upstart couldn't help but dabble in magic that was not for those of this world, and has decided to flee, probably with stolen secrets no less…"

Nobu'tan shrugged, uncaring what the wizard thought, and gestured for his minions to attack, while still building energy within himself. Xorton, brutish as he was charged ahead to take the forefront while Quzkol darted to one side, fire leaping from his tiny claws at the mage, who erected a shield of pure magic to weather the brunt of attacks on him.

Meanwhile, Nobu'tan whirled arcane magic around himself, launching bolts of frostfire at the wizard, while still building his connection to the Twisted Nether. Under his own power, even with the help of his demonic friends there was no easy way for him to defeat this mage; he needed more power.

Even as his Nether energy started to peak, the wizard had blinked past Xorton, eager to reach Nobu'tan and stop him over the demons he was commanding. Flames leap from the mage's hands, but a lightning quick counterspell silenced the wizard just long enough for Nobu'tan to make the connection between his body and the Void. He laughed at the nether energy rushed through him, giving him strength far beyond his human frame.

His vision rose as his body temporarily changed into a new demonic form, complete with claws, horns and hooves. The wizard looked appropriately shocked at Nobu'tan now as the young human warlock seized him by the front of his robes and threw the mage bodily from him, smashing the robed body against a nearby tree. The magic created shield absorbed most of the impact, but Nobu'tan didn't care any longer. He was going to have a bit of fun with this one.

Conjuring fire with both his demonic and arcane powers, he started to bombard the shimmering blue shield with fireballs and seething incineration flames. The shield flickered fainter and fainter, even as the mage tried to retaliate with ice spells, which melted in the face of the infernal flames.

The mage staggered to his feet, trying to make a run back for Dalaran, presumably to warn the other wizards, but that was not to be allowed. Flapping the massive wings that his metamorphosis granted him, Nobu'tan leapt forward, landing heavily upon the mage with his hooves first, and felt the crack of bones under him.

The mage fell to the ground screaming, blood pooling from his robes where Nobu'tan struck him. It was almost pathetic how quickly the tide had turned in face of a warlock of the Horde. This mage seemed to have never seen true combat before, which gave Nobu'tan the smallest of advantages.

Standing over his defeated foe, Nobu'tan decided on a small mercy due to time constraints and fired a molt boulder into him, ending the wizard in a fiery blaze. Dismissing his demonic allies and reverting to his normal form, Nobu'tan stretched from the strange sensations of losing wind joints and muscles as well as the other features of his change into a more demonic form, and quickly oriented himself to find the quickest route northeast.

Gul'dan had told him to find the Horde on the boarders of Quel'Thalas, and from the research he did on geography in the Dalaran Libraries, he knew that the quickest path would be up through the Alterac Mountains and into the forests of Lordaeron, which skirted around the mountains that the Horde must have taken from the Hinterlands up into Quel'Thalas proper. With luck he might intercept them before they made any official move against the elves.

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Nearly eight days later from leaving the Hinterlands, Ogrim Doomhammer and the various clan chieftains looked down from the final foothills into the start of a great forest. The rest of the Horde was slowly massing up behind them, weary from the week's long forced march over two mountain ranges with no battle to give them adrenalin. But even now as they looked on the edges of the elven homeland they were quickly losing their fatigue, but none as quickly or as excitedly as the forest trolls.

"We be going now?" Zul'jin asked eagerly as he looked at Doomhammer, who nodded.

"Yes, go now," the Warchief agreed. "Bring the fight to the elves. Spare no one and nothing." These must have been the exact words that Zul'jin was hoping for, as he grinned as he tilted his head back to give a strange warbling cry. From all around them, trolls began to drop from above, or appear from behind rocks and shrubs, far more than Doomhammer remembered the troll leader bringing with him originally. His confusion must have shown, as Zul'jin grinned again through his ever present scarf.

"Found more," he explained, still laughing, "Witherbark tribe. They be joinin' us."

Ogrim nodded, not terribly concerned. There was little that he feared about the trolls, despite their stealth and stature over even the orcs. He personally had faced off against ogres back on Draenor, and the brutes were fiercer than anything he had seen from the trolls, if not far stupider. Besides, in the months since forging their alliance Zul'jin had impressed him greatly. The forest troll was a clever one but he also had honor. He had promised his people's aid to the Horde and would not go back on that. Ogrim was more than willing to risk his life on that belief.

Of course, the fact that the forest trolls apparently hated these high elves more than anything certainly helped. They had all unanimously been in favor of turning north toward Quel'Thalas, and been nearly frantic to breach the elven forest and begin finding and attacking elves themselves. The Warchief had insisted that they wait however, as he had wanted the rest of the Horde properly in position before the trolls struck. And Zul'jin had managed to keep his brethren in line, even though he himself was as eager to attack as they were.

But the time for waiting was finally over. With a howl of bloodlust and rage, Zul'jin leaped forward and raced down the hills, he didn't even slow when he hit the edge of the forest, the jumped up into the trees, springing easily from limb to limb. The rest of the trolls followed him, bounding into the trees and disappearing from view, with only the rustle of leaves and the occasional growl marking their fleeing presence. But Ogrim knew their plan; they would find their way deep into the forest, seeking elves and killing all they found. Soon the defenders of the forest would know of the troll's invasion and rush to meet them.

And that battle would keep the elves busy, too busy to check their boarders for other threats.

Making a signal to the Horde, he watched as dozens of peon laborers darted forward, axes at the ready and began hacking away at the first lines of trees. Aside from the supplies that the Horde would gain in firewood from these trees, Ogrim had a special use for the majority of the wood they were collecting, a separate distraction to keep the elves, and no doubt the humans that would be following them from the Hinterlands, preoccupied while the Horde moved on to their objective.

Hours later, Ogrim had returned to watch the peon's progress. They had cleared a good section of lumber, piling and stripping branches from felled trunks. Spotting motion from the corner of his eye, Ogrim turned to see the short, heavy-set form of Gul'dan walking toward him, the scarred and bearded face twisted in an expression that the Warchief was not sure he liked. Gul'dan was excited about something.

"What is it?" he demanded of the chief warlock before Gul'dan even managed to reach him.

"Something that you should see, mighty Doomhammer," Gul'dan replied, sweeping into a low, sarcastic bow. Cho'gall chuckled from behind the old orc and mimicked the gesture apelike as Gul'dan continued, "something that could aid the Horde greatly."

Sighing to himself, Ogrim nodded to the warlock and swung his hammer up onto his shoulder, gesturing for Gul'dan to lead him to this something. The warlock turned and led both him and the Ogre Mage back around the forest, perhaps a hundred feet or so from where he had stood.

There, standing in a gap forced in the trees was a massive stone, with runes carved along the rough surface. It was so powered with magic that even the Warchief, who had no gift for the supernatural or spiritual, could feel the powerful energies radiating off the crude monolith.

"What is it?" he questioned the warlock.

"I do not know exactly," Gul'dan answered, stroking his bristly beard as he studied the stone, "But it is very powerful. I believe these Runestones, for there are others spaced evenly around the forest's edge, serve as a sort of mystical barrier."

"They did not stop us, or the forest trolls for that matter…" Ogrim pointed out.

"No, they did not." Gul'dan answered, "But we used nothing more than our hands and feet and blades. I believe these Runestones restrict the use of magic within, most likely allowing only the elves' own magic to function. I have tried tapping my magic here and I cannot, but if I move ten paces away, toward the hills, my spells return."

Ogrim eyed the Runestone more appreciatively from that point. "So we could take them, and set them around our enemies to prevent them from casting spells," he mused, thinking of what possibilities such an item would have, as well as how many orcs or ogres it would take to move the monoliths, and how'd they'd be able to transport them long distances.

"That is one approach, yes," Gul'dan agreed, his tone implying that he himself had thought of the same idea. "But I have another in mind, my Warchief, if you will indulge me a moment." Ogrim nodded, sudden suspicion in the back of his mind. While he did not trust Gul'dan whatsoever, the warlock had proved himself useful, in the creation of the Death Knight and several other matters, and the Warchief couldn't help but feel curious what the stocky orc had in mind.

"These stones contain immense magic," Gul'dan explained. "I believe I can harness that power for our own purposes.

"What do you mean," Ogrim questioned cautiously. He was more than wary of giving Gul'dan free rein over anything too powerful, which was why he had allowed the warlock to retain his human pet. But in a matter like this he wanted specifics.

"I can use these to create a special font of power, perhaps an altar of sorts," Gul'dan replied. "An Altar of Storms, if you will. By channeling the energy from these stones, I can transform creatures. We will make them more powerful, more dangerous, though they may suffer some disfigurement."

Doomhammer was already shaking his head, "I doubt any orc will let you experiment upon him a second time," he pointed out sharply. He himself still remembered bitterly the night Gul'dan had offered the so-called Cup of Unity, the Chalice of Rebirth, to every chieftain in the Horde, and to any warrior they deemed worthy. Doomhammer had wisely not trusted the warlock even then, and he refused when Blackhand had offered him the drink, saying that he did not wish to take away from his chieftain by sharing such power with him.

However, he had born witness to what the liquid had done to his friends and clanmates. It had made them larger and stronger, yes, but it had also turned their eyes a glowing red and their already greenish skin a vivid, sickly hue, signs of demonic taint. And above all, it had driven them all mad with bloodlust, with rage, with hunger. It turned the once noble orcs into animals, crazed killers. Some had greatly regretted the transformation later, but by then it was of course too late.

"I will not use an orc to test these altars," Gul'dan reassured him. "No, I will use a creature that can benefit from even more strength but will barely notice any reduction to intellect." The warlock grinned, "I will use an ogre."

Considering the option, Doomhammer saw the logic. They did not have many ogres with them in the human world, but the ones they did control were easily worth ten times their weight in other soldiers. To make them even stronger… would definitely be worth the risk. "All right," he said at last. "You may build one of these Altars. Let us see what happens. If it works I will supply you with more ogres, or any other race you wish."

Gul'dan bowed low and Ogrim nodded, quickly dismissing the warlock and his demented schemes for the time being as he turned away. There was still much to do elsewhere to prepare for the elves to arrive.

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Turalyon knew that Alleria was growing steadily more restless as they traveled. The road up to Quel'Thalas required them to journey back all the way to Capital City, and cross over into the eastern forests, past Andorhal and then up towards Stratholme, but they had barely reached the edge of the Tirisfal glades yet and there was still nearly a week's worth of travel for them to march.

"You need to pick up the pace," she snapped at him as she cantered her horse up to him once again, startling him once again with her skills in stealth, even when not trying to conceal her location. But he sighed regardless; it was the same complaint for the past week since they left the Hinterlands. "We're moving as fast as we can," he told her calmly, turning to check that his statement was true as he said it. The men were tired, that was more than a fact, but even they were more than moved to reach the elven forests in time to save the fairer people. "You know we cannot match you for speed. And armies always move slower than individuals." He explained, again.

"Then I'll go on myself, as I should have from the start," she insisted, tensing to sprint past him and deeper into the trees on her own.

"No!" Turalyon commanded, and whether it was the concern in his voice or the sharpness of the order, she stopped and cursed under her breath.

"Let me go!" she insisted. "I need to warn them!"

Turalyon could feel the heartache from the elf, but at the same time he knew that he had to stand his ground on this matter, not only because of Lord Lothar's orders, but because, somewhere deep inside of him, he cared a great deal for this woman. "We will warn them," he assured her, hoping that the certainty in his voice penetrated her rather stubborn attitude. "And we will help them stand against the Horde. But if you go by yourself you will be caught and killed, and that…" he had to pause, not wanting to think of that possibility, "…that will not do anyone any good He finished, hoping that his pause wasn't noticed.

"I am an elf, and a ranger," she continued hotly. "I can disappear into the trees! No one can find me!"

"Not even a forest troll?" Khadgar asked wisely, from Turalyon's opposite side. Silently, the paladin thanked the light for the seemingly old man's insight right this moment. "Because we know they're working with the Horde," Khadgar continued, "and we know they're almost your equal in woodcraft."

"Almost perhaps," she conceded. "But I am still better."

"No one would deny that," Khadgar agreed diplomatically, though Turalyon could see the grin behind the wizard's calm. "But we don't know how many of them are out there, between us and your home. And ten of them would more than make up for your superior skill."

Alleria cursed again, and Turalyon breathed a sigh of relief. The elf was starting to see sense. "Just get them moving!" she snapped at him again, sprinting ahead to scout out the path. As she departed, the wizard turned to Turalyon. "She's worried," he said, stating the obvious quite pointedly.

"I know," the paladin admitted, "and I can't blame her. I'd be worried too, if the Horde was heading toward my home. I was when we thought they would march directly toward Capital City, and that's as close to a home as I've had these past ten years or more."

Then he sighed, "Plus she's only got half the Alliance army behind her back. and only me to command it."

"Stop selling yourself short," his friend warned sternly. "You're a good commander and a noble Paladin, one of the Silver Hand, the finest in Lordaeron. She's lucky to have you."

Turalyon smiled, grateful for the reassurance, but he only wished he could believe it. he knew he was decent enough in combat… he'd had sufficient training, and their first clash with the Horde had proven he could translate that into real fighting skill. But a leader? Before the war he had never had to lead anything, not even prayers.

Turalyon had been most surprised when, of all the Paladins, he had been chosen by Lothar to be his lieutenant. If anyone, Turalyon would have thought Uther would have been the obvious choice, though perhaps Lothar had felt that the older Paladin's faith might make it difficult for him to interact with less pious men. Nevertheless, he kept wondering what he could have done to deserve the honor of suck a rank, if he did deserve it.

"You've gone quiet again." Khadgar said, leaning closer and nudging Turalyon with one hand. "Don't think too deeply or you'll fall right out of the saddle." The mage's tone was friendly and only a little concerned, and Turalyon did his best to smile at the weak joke.

"I'm fine," he assured his friend, "just wondering what to do next."

"What do you mean?" Khadgar glanced around, and looked back at the troops marching behind them. "You're doing fine. Keep the men moving, make the best time we can, and hope we catch the Horde before they can do too much damage."

"I know." Turalyon frowned. "I just wish there was some way we could pass them and reach Quel'Thalas first. Perhaps Alleria's right… maybe I should let her go on ahead. But if she got caught, if anything happened to her…" he trailed off and glared at Khadgar, who was grinning openly. "What?"

"Oh, nothing," the mage said, laughing. "But if you're this concerned about every soldier, we might as well give up now, because you won't be willing to send any of them into battle for fear they'll get hurt." Turalyon swatted at the wizard, who ducked the blow, still laughing.

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"Is it ready?" Gul'dan asked impatiently. A short distance away, Cho'gall shook both his heads. The massive ogre grunted and shoved once more, his enormous shoulders pushing the last Runestone fragment another foot across the thickly grassed clearing.

"Now it is ready," he called out, straightening and rubbing at the shoulder with one hand.

Gul'dan nodded. It had taken several hours to prepare this place, digging out one of the Runestones, shattering it into several pieces, all still massive in their own right, and then carry five of them here to this clearing. Then it had taken several more hours to position the stones just right and inscribe the circle and pentagram between them. Fortunately, Doomhammer had given them the use of several regular ogres for the labor, and Cho'gall was able to communicate with his stupid, one-headed kin more easily than any orc could.

At least the stones were in place now, and the ritual could begin. Gul'dan gestured and three other orc warlocks took their places beside three of the Runestone pieces. It was a good thing Doomhammer had not killed all of them or this ritual would not have stood even a chance of working. As it was, Gul'dan thought it would succeed but he was not completely sure. He would have felt far more confident if Nobu'tan was here to provide his significant boost of raw magical power to it, but that was not an option for the moment. Still, if it failed Gul'dan was fairly certain he would survive unscathed.

Nodding to Cho'gall, Gul'dan watched as the Ogre mage called out to the ogres clustered off to one side of the Altar. After a moment of jostling and pushing and grunting one of them stepped forward. Cho'gall barked a command and the ogre, shrugging, slouched into the space between the stones. It stood in the center of the pentagram and waited, motionless.

One good thing about ogres was that they could stand still when required. Indeed, when not given an order and not looking for food ogres could stand for hours, as motionless as statues. Gul'dan had often wondered if they had somehow evolved from rocks. It would explain their dense hides as well as their utter stupidity.

Returning his mind to the task at hand, Gul'dan raised his arms and called forth the dark energies his demon masters had granted him back on Draenor. The energy of the Twisted Nether crackled about him, and he fed it into the Runestone Fragment directly before him. Cho'gall had taken the final place and both he and the other warlocks were adding their magic as well, each powering a single stone. Gul'dan knew that each was powerful in its own right, but Nobu'tan could have powered at least two stones alone, how he missed the usefulness of his favored apprentice right now.

When all five stones hummed with power, almost vibrating from the energies they contained, Gul'dan spoke a short incantation and concentrated. More energy arched from his fingertips into his Runestone, but this time the energy flickered through his stone and on to the nearest at his left. But the energy didn't stop there either. It passed to the next stone, and continued around the circle until all five were linked in an array of dancing, bristling magic. The air itself seemed to darken above the altar, and it felt thick with energy, the way the sky did before a massive storm. The ogre still stood unmoving, though Gul'dan thought he saw a glimmer of fear in its eyes. Good, Cho'gall had picked a smart one.

Once the stones were fully empowered Gul'dan turned his attention to the center, directing the raw power into the ogre that stood there. Bolts of dark energy shot from his stone upon command, striking the ogre full in the chest, and surrounding the creature with a blazing dark aura. The other Runestone fragments lent their strength and the ogre nearly disappeared within the dark glow that filled the space where it stood. Gul'dan was sure he could feel his arms trembling from fatigue and magical drain, but excitement kept him quivering with energy, even as more magic dance around the sphere, somehow feeding upon itself and obscuring all but the outline of the ogre within.

After several sustained minutes the energy slowly dissipated, revealing the ogre still standing within the circle, and Gul'dan got his first real look at the creature his Altar of Storms had created. It was still an ogre, though even larger than before and somehow its proportions had shifted. The creature's arms were not quite as long, its legs not quite so bowed, and it held itself differently, more alert. And then there were of course the two heads.

Two headed ogres were a rarity on Draenor, Cho'gall being probably the first in several generations, and still rarer was his ability to wield the magical forces. Gul'dan had been extremely fortunate to acquire the ogre when he was young, and had trained him carefully. Cho'gall had proven to be a valuable assistant and a powerful warlock in his own right, and still remained by Gul'dan's side to this day.

The only concern that Gul'dan sensed about the ogre was his growing distance whenever Nobu'tan was around, and the old orc sensed that the ogre felt more than a twinge of jealousy at the young human boy for being so close to Gul'dan. Hardly surprising, as Nobu'tan would eclipse them all in power with time, because of how his entire body was effectively a conduit of magic in and of itself. But now it seemed that Cho'gall wasn't even alone as the only ogre mage any longer.

The new two-headed ogre turned and stared at Gul'dan, somehow realizing that he was in charge.

"What am I?" it demanded, one head speaking while the other looked around. Its skill in speaking the orcish language had vastly improved as well.

"You are an ogre," Gul'dan replied, "and perhaps an ogre mage."

"An ogre mage," the new head asked, snapping its attention onto Gul'dan as it spoke. "What does that mean?"

And within moments Gul'dan found himself explaining about magi and warlocks and shaman to a fully grown ogre, something he had never before experienced. The newly created two headed ogre listened intently, and ask only a handful of pointed, and rather observant, questions, surprising even Gul'dan with the rise of its intellect.

"And I am one of these?" the ogre asked when Gul'dan had finished.

"Possibly." Gul'dan replied, narrowing his eyes. "There is a simply test for that." He stooped and lifted a single leaf from the ground, handing it to the two-headed creature. "Take this." The ogre reached forward, and with surprising dexterity took the leaf between two fingers.

"Now concentrate on the idea of fire, of heat and flame," Gul'dan instructed. Both faces of the ogre frowned, studying the leaf intently. Then it slowly nodded, first one head and then the other.

"Good." Gul'dan spoke softly, not wanting to disrupt the creature's concentration. "Now bring the flame to life. Let it claim the leaf, the fire licking across it, the heat warming your skin, almost burning your fingers."

He watched in satisfaction as a spark leapt to life almost instantly near the middle of the lead and rapidly grew to a small flame that spread hungrily. The leaf shriveled, turning dark and brittle in seconds as the fire consumed it. The breeze carried it away, and the ogre glanced up, meeting Gul'dan's eyes with both its own pairs, its double gaze bright.

"I am an ogre mage then, yes?" it sounded pleased. One head even grinned. The other smiled slightly, thought it seemed puzzled.

"Yes," Gul'dan agreed, also pleased. "You are one of us."

"What does that mean, 'one of us'?" the creature asked next, the less exuberant head frowning. "What do I do with this gift?"

And once again Gul'dan found himself in deep discussion with the ogre, about the Horde and their plans of conquest. The ogre mage listened intently, absorbing every detail. Eventually the ogre had heard enough, pledging itself to Gul'dan, who had created it, and demanding instruction of what to do next. Gul'dan calmly introduced Cho'gall and allowed the ogre magi to get acquainted. Cho'gall would name and instruct the new mage in how to power the Altar of Storms to create more ogre magi. If only Nobu'tan was here to witness their next level of triumph over Doomhammer, Gul'dan thought. Hopefully the boy would return soon, for the final preparations.