Just to point out a small overlook that a handful of reviewers have mentioned, the Order of the Black Harvest, and their allies, spent next to no time actually on Argus, merely passed through Argus when they were finally allowed to go to Azeroth. It may be that the detail was so subtle that it was overlooked, or otherwise wasn't clear, but that fact is touched on again later on. I only am pointing this out as the 'power level,' of the various characters would be drastically different if they had spent any amount of time learning on Argus, as people have mentioned, but that did not occur, therefore I am forestalling any future mention of whether or not the character are weaker than they ought to appear to be. At this point, as far as game mechanics are concerned, all the leaders are in the level 60 bracket, as far as vanilla is concerned, just to give the idea of where they ought to be in terms of strength and spells available. Still, many thanks to the eagle eyed readers who make mention of these things, it helps me recognize where I need to be less subtle. That being said, enjoy the next chapter!

Chapter Fifty Three

The Dark Horde

Voldemort sighed as the large company of goblins, trolls, Veela, and humans followed his old nemesis around to the eastern side of the massive lake. Lucius, the deceitful serpent that he was, had taken another group to the west and north, comprised primarily of women and children. They were heading straight for the settlement that was situated there, in order to remove those who were unable to fight properly from their midst as they pressed on to the blackened, desolate area that lay far to the north.

As much as it galled the former Dark Lord that he now was servant to Potter, he had to admit that the boy, now turned a man, made a fine leader from time to time as they marched, although giving far too much heed to those surrounding him and not taking as much of his own counsel to heart. The lust to kill the warlock immediately had grown cold, much as had many of his other emotions and desires in the frozen wake of death, but Voldemort was still a cunning and ambitious man, and vengeance was his most powerful tool.

He may yet still try to undermine Potter, if he could, but for the time being he would wait, biding his time for the right moment to strike. When he deemed that it was needed, he would retake his place as the head of these refugees from their old world.

Although, even as they passed through a narrow canyon and approached a large bridge leading toward what appeared to be an abandoned keep of stone, Voldemort wondered if he would even be within this world's league of great powers now, with only these new death magic that he had been given. Technically the warlock had inadvertently granted him his heart's desire, as now that he was effectively one of the undead, a being greater than even the inferi that he himself had once created, but still, it had not been worth his dethroning as the most powerful sorcerer of their age.

And to top it off, Potter then turned around and sold their entire world to demons for them to burn, all for a one way ticket back to some other world on their errand like some pathetic heralds of doom. It was sickening. But even as the dead body that was Lord Voldemort turned his lifeless eyes upon the illusioned form of Potter, now shrouded once more as one of the hunched, green beings that inhabited this world, he sensed that there was something more at work, a thing which he himself was not aware of.

Knowing that he had to gain the warlock's confidence, get into his inner circle and learn of his plans before making any of his own, the Dark Lord decided to do what he could to aid their leader for now, even if he had no real option of attempting to hinder the warlock at this time.

They were halted just outside the fortress, as another pair of these creatures, clad in bulky metal armor and wielding massive axes stepped from the shadows, speaking to Potter in their deplorable tongue, of which Voldemort had only learned a passable amount in preparation for their departure to this world.

The guards, for that was what these two were doing at this spot of the fortress, were demanding that Nobu'tan identify himself, and his company, and tell the pair of them whom they served, whether it was their leader in the Burning Steppes, or if they were one of the pretender's minions.

Whoever this pretender they mentioned was, Voldemort did not know, but Nobu'tan seemed to have a small idea, and pressed upon them the notion that he was no orc's servant with a powerful gout of Fel magic, but rather the returning leader of the Stormreaver Clan, come to take their place once more at the side of the true Horde.

Whatever these names meant to the orcs, it was clearly something of relative importance, as the guards were fearful of Potter, in his name of Nobu'tan, and hurried to get out of the way of the company as they passed into the fortress. The other humans had all disguised themselves as orcs, but Voldemort had no access to that sort of magic, and was the target of many glares and snarls by what turned out to be a massive collection of the green and grey skinned creatures.

None dared approach him though, as even through the shrouds and cloak he wore to conceal his dead features, they could sense the power and death that reeked from him. Clearly he was some sort of familiar creature to them, as they tolerated his presence therefore. They were escorted directly to the entrance of the inner Keep of the fortress, until another, larger orc with massive pauldrons on his shoulders and a cruel looking longsword in hand stopped them.

From the looks of him, Voldemort could determine that he was not the leader of this band, but still one in authority to command, so a lieutenant or some other underling.

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Nobu'tan was in his element once more. Surrounded by his people, and in an encampment of orcs that heralded from the Blackrock Clan, greatest and chief out of the Horde, he being led to their leader as the Chieftain of the Stormreavers, a name that still wielded some measure of power and fear, even after they were completely destroyed, or so it was as far as what Nobu'tan could gather from the muttering of the other orcs around them.

He had made sure that they were decorated with the appropriate colors and banners of the clan, just to emphasize that he was who he claimed to be, a warlock from under the tutelage of Gul'dan, and rightful heir of the clan leadership. Whether this led to respect, fear or hatred, he wasn't sure, but it was enough that they were not attacked on sight, but recognized as possible allies, as it seemed that these orcs were not affiliated with those of Stonard, which was confusing in and of itself.

But those were questions for another time, as the orc who stepped before him angrily, demanding who he was and what he was doing on Blackrock Lands threatened him with drawn sword.

"Is it normal," Nobu'tan said, barely repressing the seething anger in his belly, "for orcs of honor to approach another with drawn weapon and threats of violence, when we ought to be united under the banner of the Horde?"

There was a smattering of mutters around the assembled orcs, who had turned out to see these newcomers, and learn what their purpose was.

"I am Thrail'zun, petty warlock," the orc said, refusing to back down, "and I am lieutenant to Gath'llzogg, commander of this faction of the Blackrock, your magic does not scare me, now answer my questions or so help me I will remove your ugly head from your shoulders, and save us all the trouble of your serpent words."

Nobu'tan smirked. He had been waiting for the first fool that attempted to execute authority or lord some sort of rank over him. Rising to the full height that his illusion allowed, and bearing the tabard of the Stormreavers for all to see upon his chest, Nobu'tan spoke loud and clearly, "I am not of your clan, so your authority I need not recognize. If you want Mak'gora, Tharil'zun, I will give it you, and you will lose. It is information from your leader that I need, and we will move on to the north, to report to the Warchief of our return."

For a moment it almost appeared that Tharil'zun would throw down his sword and engage in the honor duel with Nobu'tan right then and there, but another orc, far larger than the lieutenant emerged from the keep interior, grunting in irritation at the massive group of mixed races that were within his keep.

"Thrail'zun," the orc demanded angrily, "What are all these things doing here, why have you not defended our position? If the humans find us, Warchief Rend will have our heads."

"I gather you are in charge here, then?" Nobu'tan said, addressing the new orc and completely ignoring the lieutenant from there on.

"What is it to you, weakling?" the orc said, turning to look at him, moments before he spotted the blue tabard with the crescent moon and lightning bolt over a cresting wave, the symbols of the Stormreaver Clan.

"And Rend, son of Blackhand, is Warchief…" Nobu'tan continued, allowing the orc's silence to declare his intimidation at the form and appearance of a warlock of the old clan of Gul'dan, "Most interesting… what are the passwords and checkpoints from here up to Blackrock Spire? I fear it has been some time since our clan has had interaction with the true Horde."

Tharil'zun wasn't as old as his commander, clearly, and had little memory for what Nobu'tan represented, and correspondingly had no respect either. "Silence, warlock, your kind aren't in control of the Horde any longer," he spat, and Nobu'tan held up a hand to prevent Teg'Ramm from reacting in the midst of all these.

"Honorless worm, you need a better level of control over your underlings, commander," Nobu'tan countered, refusing to back down in front of his apparent rival here. His seeming loyalty was not to be denied, and he would march his people through to attack the Spire if they had to in order to establish his control over the Horde.

After a long moment of silence, in which the three watched each other for the first one to yield, and the commander spoke at last, "I will honor the pact that the warlocks of the Stormreavers once held in the horde, despite their treachery in the past. Warchief Rend will want to know about this development."

Tharil'zun seemed incensed that he was more or less shunted to the side with his less than useful opinion of the newcomers, but Nobu'tan didn't care, he had won what he desired, and gladly he and the others of the Black Harvest, still disguised as orcs, moved to follow the commander into the ruined Keep, where he held some rough papers that had the locations of their encampments and the secret words and phrases to bypass them without conflict.

Nobu'tan got the feeling that the orc was just giving in only to get rid of them, likely because the added bodies in their base could easily draw attention and ruin the stealth of whatever mission they were up to.

The warlock didn't care; however, and as soon as they had refreshed themselves for a small moment with a meal they pressed onward, departing the keep on its north end, seeing that the orcish encampment extended quite a ways throughout the mountain valley on the eastern side of the lake.

It was rather disturbing on the part of the humans of this area that they had not yet called for reinforcements to eliminate the garrisons that were stationed here of the Horde. But it worked out for Nobu'tan's favor this way better, so he wouldn't complain, merely be concerned that they were completely unaware of such a move ordered by Rend Blackhand.

Nobu'tan remembered the twin sons of the former Warchief, fools and childish even in their adult age, which Gul'dan had explained was caused by rapidly ageing them so that the Horde had more warriors for the initial attack into Azeroth.

It served to make Nobu'tan believe that it would be all the easier to control the Warchief, and take control of the factions here for good. It would be the perfect base from which to expand and seek out the scattered Legion factions that were lacking in communication and orders for the overarching plan for the demonic forces altogether.

Crossing into the Burning Steppes went far smoother now that they had the passwords and signs to prevent random attacks from the orcs camps hidden in the hills. When there was a second faction of orcs altogether with their own Horde, Nobu'tan understood why it was needed, as there was at last a reason to not be able to trust your own, which was a fact that Nobu'tan could manipulate in the Warchief and turn to his advantage.

Eventually, Lucius rejoined them, disguised as one of the orcs, and mentioned that the women and young children were on their way to Stormwind in caravans, helpfully supplied from the villagers of Lakeshire, the settlement on the western side of the lake.

Everything thus far was going well, and Nobu'tan was feeling good about his plans as they marched up into the soot covered black lands of the valley south of the massive volcano that was the main fortress of the Horde in this land.

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Draco watched the land around them as they progressed into the bleak and desolate landscape just north of the pleasant lakeside mountain valley. It was rather odd for such a different biome to be so close, but he figured that the wall of mountains served to prevent the destruction that came presumably from the massive Volcano at the eastern part of the soot covered valley.

Knowing that somehow, their destination was that blackened mountain, Draco kept silent as they crossed through the land toward the rising mountain. Even still with the dead landscape, there were plenty of things to attract his attention as they progressed.

The Horde had plenty of encampments throughout the dark valley, and surprisingly their own company was not terribly out of place among them. Orcs and ogres were very plentiful, with the occasional knot of goblins, although it was strange to see many four legged reptilian creatures that accompanied very small dragons and larger drakes in large abundance.

Even still, their group had many members that were strange and unusual to these people, such as the Fel Veela and the Centaurs, which drew much attention from the surrounding forces, but because of their knowledge of the passwords and sign they were unmolested as they traveled.

Draco wondered if they would have to enter the mountain itself to meet with the Warchief of this Horde, but he was surprised to find that they were directed away from the massive ramp leading up to the mountain fortress, and toward a sizeable base at the foot of it, dominated by a massive statue of a human warrior, which was strange enough for what Draco knew regarding these orcs and their hatred for the other race.

A heavily armored grunt approached as they group arrived at the outskirts of the base, "Throm-Ka warriors, you are requested; Warchief Rend Blackhand wishes to speak with you." He said in the heavily accented voice.

Nobu'tan nodded, "Throm-Ka, we shall meet with him now, but where can my clan go to settle themselves after our long journey from the south?"

"We have space prepared for them," the warrior responded respectfully, "although we didn't expect such a large group to arrive so suddenly…"

"Whatever is available will be sufficient," Draco mentioned, and the orc looked at him for the briefest moment, before nodding in acknowledgement, and turning to lead the Council of the Black Harvest to their leader.

The six warlocks followed, leaving Teg'Ramm and their others to manage their setting up of their own residencies for the time being. Through the sea of tents the six leaders of their Order were taken to a massive tent decorated in bones and other trophies of victory in battle.

"Rend always was so focused on making sure he was respected…" Nobu'tan commented casually, looking at an orcish skull that hung just over the tent entrance, probably the head of some rival, just before they were invited inside.

Within sat another orc upon a throne of furs and bone, armored in red and loosely gripping a large, two handed sword as he watched out of the one eye he had remaining, the other socket covered by a black patch.

"I cannot believe my eye, nor had I believed my ears when I heard that Stormreaver filth somehow survived the destruction that my and my brother's clan had wreaked on the traitors." The orc snarled, surrounded by a handful of guards, "and now you pathetic warlocks come crawling back to us, expecting our aid and hospitality?"

Nobu'tan seemed caught off guard at the vitriol that was thrown at them, but Lucius seemed to flow into his element, stepping forward a step and addressing the orcish warlord. "It would seem that way, Warchief, but we were not part of that traitorous group, but were left behind in the wilds when Gul'dan made his bid for power…"

The lies flowing from his father's tongue were perfect, and even though it was clear to those of the Council that their spokesman only knew part of what had actually occurred, his words were vague enough to be believable.

"We wanted to return and aid the Horde, as we were duty bound to do, but Gul'dan prevented us with his magic and for a long time we were hounded by humans and other foes, until we finally found our way, along with new allies that guided us and gave us the strength we needed to return to these lands." Lucius said, and Draco could sense the magic that was he casually wove into the words to convince the orc Warchief of their truth, regardless of the lies that they were.

And it was working, almost too easily. "I understand you point," the orc said after a time, clearly growing tired of thinking about the ramifications of their story, "I will reaccept your faction of the Stormreavers into the Horde, but I will be keeping an eye on you all, because I do not trust warlocks."

"As you wish, Warchief," Nobu'tan stated, taking the place of Lucius at the forefront, "What are the plans for the Horde, I see you have a mighty force here, as well as scouts spying out the human settlements to the south, when do we attack?"

"We don't," Rend replied, looking sickened at the words but being forced to say them.

Nobu'tan paused, "Why ever not? The humans are weak and ready to be destroyed."

"Lord Nefarius wants us to focus on consolidating the Fortress of Blackrock Mountain first, and finish his experiments on the dragons to give us an unstoppable force, and then we will surge out on wings of death and fire to crush our enemies."

Draco didn't like the sound of this Lord personally, and clearly the shift in stance from all the Council meant they were in agreement. "Who is this Lord of whom you speak?" Nobu'tan asked, and Rend glowered before replying.

"A Human lord that has great influence and power, who enabled us to survive and return to this place after the humans crushed our mighty Horde, slew the traitor Doomhammer, and has since then been preparing for the Horde's triumphant return to the world." Rend said, although even Draco could perceive that the orc was not fully convinced by his own words.

Nobu'tan clearly could tell as well, and pressed the advantage, "But it's not exactly what you had in mind for the Horde, is it Warchief?"

Rend's eye said it all. The orc wanted glory for his warriors, not to huddle in their fortress like dogs waiting for some event in the future.

"What if I could free you from the bargain you have with this Lord Nefarius?" Nobu'tan offered, "Would you consider reinstating the Stormreavers as your advisors and agents throughout Azeroth, so that we can proceed wisely to reestablish the Horde as a power, over even the pretender…"

Rend seemed hesitant to trust warlocks, especially ones that heralded under the flag of the Stormreavers, but it was clear that he was chaffing under the leash of this human lord, "I will consider your offer, warlock," the Warchief said, "but until that time, you can prove yourselves by eliminating the dwarves and their elemental allies that infest the lower regions of Blackrock Mountain, so that we have sole control of the fortress."

Draco could see the greed in the orc's eye. He knew the power of warlocks, and wanted to get something more out of their bargain, but it was a simple task to eliminate their enemies. "It will be done, Warchief, as you command." Nobu'tan said, bowing before him in false submission, "Just have us led to the beginning of the dwarves dominion and we shall eliminate them forthwith."

The orc's eye was brimming with anticipation at the willingness of Nobu'tan and their faction for something that, clearly, had been more than difficult for him and his own forces. "I will send several warriors to escort you and whomever you take with you to fight the dwarves at the earliest opportunity."

"We will be with our clan until that time, Warchief, settling in for the moment." Nobu'tan said finally, concealing the smile that Draco could clearly sense from his friend.

They turned and departed, quickly locating their forces, which had set up several of their magical tents, not that the orcs needed to know that, the illusions to keep them unsuspectingly normal from the outside well placed and maintained. Teg'Ramm and the other ogres from earth were looking interestedly at their fellows from the Horde itself, and Draco could tell that the ogre mage wanted badly to connect to others of their kind, and see what differences there could be between them.

"We should select a specific group to take the lead into the dwarven section of the mountain," Nobu'tan said, once they were safely within the lavish space of his wizarding tent, procured during the invasion of earth from the Legion for their use once returning to Azeroth.

"The tunnels ought to be small, so it will be difficult for large creature like our ogres to enter, so unless we can fit them we should let them stay this one out." Blaise suggested.

"Teg'Ramm especially will not like that," Yaxley countered.

"We will decide on Teg'Ramm when we arrive at the entrance to the dwarven areas in the mountain," Nobu'tan reasoned as a middle ground, "but I definitely want several of our goblin allies, as they will know tunnels and mines far better than any of us."

Together they spent several hours hashing out who they would bring, and why, inevitably figuring out a round forty of their members to bring, if they were bringing Teg'Ramm and two of his ogre mage brethren.

With those three, the main council of the Black Harvest would join them, as well as the Death Knight Voldemort. Edgran and nine of his Fel Centaur would be of great assistance to them. The leader of the Fel Veela, a harsh woman named Aisha, who had taken the title of Feltalon for herself, demanded that her people be represented as well. She herself and nine of her people insisted their presence in the fight ahead, and finally eight of the trained goblins from Gringotts would lead them through the weaving tunnels, adding their magic and martial prowess to the lot.

Luckily they had done such planning as soon as they could, because Rend's messengers came almost the moment that they had finished, beckoning them to move out toward the mountain with what forces that they chosen to accompany them.

Thus they made their way toward the sloping ramp of the bleak mountain, and Draco could sense eyes watching their band as they approached, from somewhere high above. It was unnerving, but soon they passed into the gaping halls of the mountain fortress, and the sensation departed.

It turned out that the mountain was more than large enough for even their tallest ogres, and Teg'Ramm and his fellows were to join them for a round forty fighters, clambering down the massive chains that led to a central pillar of stone, even as the orcs guided them to the lowest levels of the central shaft of the mountain, where the chambers to the very roots were open for their entrance.

"I want a vanguard formation," Nobu'tan ordered, arranging their forces with warriors and those skilled with bow toward the front, while their caster remained in the center, Voldemort and the ogres bringing up the rear un case they were flanked.

The orcs left them once they were in the correct passage, and soon all was silent and dark aside from the magical lights that they themselves had created. "These dwarves are known as the Dark Iron," Nobu'tan explained, from some of the details that he knew form long before, "they are known for their setting of ambushes, and their hatred of all outsiders. I can expect nothing more than a bloodbath resulting from this, but try to capture a few at first, so that we might have some intelligence of what we are heading into."

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Teg'Ramm, from the rear of their formation, spotted the movement first. Shadows were gathering from several off shooting passages that they formation passed, which soon enough erupted with small, dark skinned or graying dwarves, angry and wielding weapons of a near black colored metal.

"Defend yourselves!" Teg bellowed, even as Ramm took control of their body, whirling around to strike the nearest group of dwarves with a powerful two-handed swing of his staff. The group of three sword wielding creatures went flying from the strike, even as Teg took back one hand to ignite destructive Fel flames and hurl the sphere into another grouping of their attackers.

All around the group of forty, chaos erupted as more dwarves sprang from every side, and the battle began in earnest. Fel and arcane magic flew in all directions, while blade, and in many cases the talons of the Fel Veela, slashed outward, but the Stormreavers did not break their formation, keeping their leaders centered in the circle of their protection.

Teg'Ramm spied that even the former enemy of Nobu'tan, the Death Knight known as Voldemort, had become a whirlwind of death, causing destruction among the ranks of their foes with both a blade he took from the dead, as well as the jeweled scepter that preserved his unlife.

The dead rose as the necromantic energies of the vile sorcerer wove through them, reinforcing their flank with expendable bodies of their former enemies in order to absorb attacks from their still living foes.

Demons flowed from the center of their grouping, where the warlocks were kept, and even healing magic from the goblin priests and shaman came out in torrents, mending what wounds the frontline fighters received from the hands and weapons of the dwarves.

"Press forward, attack!" Nobu'tan shouted, and as one the column began to move, forcefully shoving back the tide of dwarves in the direction of their lairs deep under the mountain, even as they left a trail of death behind them.

Soon they pressed through a rough mining section, where many more foes were seen fleeing from their weapons, probably to enforce a better strategic area further ahead, but they were no match for the power that the Stormreavers brought to bear in arms or magic.

A long bride was suspended over a funnel of lava, and rank upon rank of the short creatures were present, the front lines with spear and shield, while archers and gunners were behind, aiming their projectile weapons over the heads and shoulders of their fellows.

"You will go no further, orc swine!" yelled a dwarf from the rear of the shield wall, presumable some sort of general or other leader, "You can turn tail and run back to your precious dragon if you like, or fall upon our blades, but you will not take the mountain!"

The dwarves all yelled their battle cries in agreement, to which Nobu'tan strode through their column to see the very front of the enemy formation.

"You fools know not with whom you meddle. I am Darkness Incarnate, and I will not be denied!" the warlock bellowed, gathering visually the power of the Fel to him, opening horrendous portals all around and summoning a host of Legion Demons to their aid. Infernals and Felguards took to the field, charging ahead of their main force, with Edgran and his warriors and archers thundering in their wake. Teg'Ramm yelled at his fellow ogre magi, and they ran onward, allowing their toughened hides to absorb what projectiles made it through the first ranks of their charge, firing shadow and flame before them.

The demons struck the lines of the dwarves with the weight of a hammer upon the anvil, staggering their lines but not breaking it. That was the job of the Fel Centaur, who roared their hatred upon all foes of their master as they crashed through the shield wall, cruel blades and heavy hammers falling upon the dwarves in blood frenzy.

Roaring in delight of the death, Teg'Ramm and the other ogres channeled their power to stir the bloodlust of their kind in many of their fighters, signaling for the rest of the column to charge the line, the bridge trembling with the weight of so many stampeding feet over it.

The dwarf lines broke at the onslaught, their leader disappearing in the chaos of their advance. The Stormreavers were undaunted by the weapons of the Dwarves, which in comparison to their might and magic were rather crude and not terribly powerful.

Blood ran across the stones as they routed the last pockets of resistance, sending the fools flying backward into their halls beyond the bridge, screaming for reinforcements as they ran from them.

Nobu'tan signaled for them to not pursue, and the group of forty waited for their orders. "The path ahead splits, and honeycombs for miles under the mountains," he explained. "I do not want a single dwarf to escape this net, so we will need to split our group to check every nook and cranny for their kind, and eliminate them."

Then, turning to the entrance they had just won, Nobu'tan lifted both hands, summoning great pillars of Fel rock from the ground in cruel spikes, and summoning demons to guard their new gates. "Any dwarf that comes this way," he instructed the demons, "you will slay them; none get through until I return and lower the walls, understood?"

The demons grunted in their language, clearly irritated to have such orders, but bound to obey their master.

"Lucius, take a group and go down the left passage," Nobu'tan instructed, gesturing at an iron set of bars to in that direction, with a hastily locked gate, "I will take another group and press on ahead, hopefully we will make sure that no one gets too much of their manpower down upon them until we reach the very bottom, where their leaders no doubt quiver in fear of our arrival."

"As you wish, Chieftain…" Lucius replied, which surprised Teg'Ramm that all had quickly accepted the change of their faction's name. Even as they stood together, upon the brink of their first operation, Teg'Ramm realized that they indeed were more than a hastily united group of warriors and warlocks. They had become a close knit clan just as deadly as any of the orcs above on the surface. They were now the Stormreaver Clan, in truth, and Nobu'tan was their Chieftain.

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Lucius was pleased that Nobu'tan continued to turn to him in situations like now, when a separation of their forces was in order. In this matter of eliminating the dwarves in their own kingdom, dividing and conquering was indeed the best plan.

Taking the left hand path through the metal gate, which was a strange form of metal that the Goblins, formerly of Gringotts, were keenly interested in and took long moments to examine. Beyond it, there was a pair of strange creatures moving about, comprised completely of fire and in a shape very similar to the Voidwalkers that Lucius was familiar with.

Still, they died easily enough with their force of twenty focusing one at a time, leaving large metal bracers that crashed to the cave floor, still smoking and red hot. Beyond them the passage opened up once again to a high vaulted causeway, and a road that seemed to lead deeper into the mountain. Armor dwarves were everywhere, along with captains and hounds.

"They seem to be preparing to launch their own attack on the rest of the mountain," Lucius mused with the only other member of the Council in his group, Theodore Nott. The young man nodded in agreement with Lucius' assessment, having studied tactics in great detail prior to their removal from earth.

It was a simple task to rearrange their own forces for the inevitable battle that was about to commence, the heavily armored or toughened ones in the front, while the mages, warlocks, and those with healing magic remained in the back.

It didn't take long for the dwarves to realize that they were being observed, and in groups of platoons they started to rush their line, but the Stormreavers were more than ready for anything that the dwarves could throw at them. What did cause Lucius pause at first was when the captains of the dwarven regiments would call upon powerful holy magic to shield themselves for a time, prevent them from dying until their concentrations was inevitably broken.

While undoubtedly a useful ability, it was little more than a nuisance in the face of their superior tactics and skills. In the end, the remainder of the Dark Iron warriors had to flee, disappearing through a gate far to the right of the Stormreaver's entrance tunnel.

From the left however, a bellowing roar heralded a rumble beneath their feet, even as a massive molten creature approached. Lucius would have called it some sort of giant, but the dark stone face was streamed with lava as though the molten rock was its lifeblood.

Sending the Death Knight formerly known as the Dark Lord Voldemort, as well as those others that would be able to withstand the fiery attacks of the giant, Lucius called upon the power of shadows to hinder and weaken the giant's strikes, even as bubbles of animated fire started to explode into being, spreading their heat and flame in all directions as they appeared.

Despite appearances, the giant wasn't particular strong or difficult for them to take down, and Lucius observed as their forces inspected the large trove of items that the giant had with him, which fell to the ground with a clatter when the giant was slain.

Among many scraps of metal and powdered residue, there were only four items and any magic power or worth noting. A Cuisse etched with what looked like burns from lava were given to Voldemort, who took them ungratefully but accepted the fact that he would likely be on the front lines more often than not. There was a pair of mace-like hammers, one that was a simple warhammer, and a larger two-handed weapon that surged with magma when swung. The smaller hammer was given to the one warrior centaur with them, while the larger, two-handed weapon was given to their ogre mage, who easily wielded the weapon with no difficulty.

Finally, there was a cloth sash that was embroidered with what appeared to be flames and was greatly magical. Lucius took this himself, and immediately felt the boon of power gifted to him just by wearing the item.

If Lucius had not been convinced of the greater magical nature of Azeroth over their old earth before, this would greatly aid in the argument. It was a sensation that was quite different than anything he recalled from their old world. Enchanted items were more or less only made to do something upon command, not necessarily to enhance the wielder or wearer of the item.

Beyond the direction where the giant had come from, Lucius could tell that the passage dead ended in a solid wall, carved with a mosaic of the dwarves and their achievements, depicting primarily one larger than the rest holding up some sort of glowing jewel.

It was typical that such creatures treasured the jewels of the earth, but he was intrigued by the concept that they would value one particular gem over all others, enough to honor the event of finding or shaping the jewel.

That left two options, either to backtrack to a small side passage that they had ignored while fighting the fire elementals leading to this massive road, or to follow the dwarf soldiers that had fled and see what lay beyond them. From his guess, the previous side path was less important, and would be covered by Nobu'tan's group, as he could see that it proceeded onward to the large open area that was in the same direction that their Chieftain's force was heading for.

"We proceed onward," Lucius declared, gesturing toward the massive gate. The goblins seemed to be the ones that were most disappointed to depart so soon, as they had been gleefully picking over the body of the fallen giant.

It took some time to tear them away from the corpse, but in the end Lucius had full control over his forces once more, and they started to cautiously make their way to the massive wall of stone, which seemed to be a sort of seal for the heat from within. If Lucius were to guess, it would have to be that there was some sort of forge beyond, deep in the center of the mountain.

Ingenious planning and use of the mountain, but still an irritant for their cause, as it meant that there could be tunnel extended for miles in all directions as the dwarves sought after metals and gems for their craft.

Beyond the rather narrow opening in what appeared at first to be a solid stone wall, but once on the other side revealed that it was actually a massive gate, was an ever narrowing passage, flanked by several more fire elementals. Effective planning and their strategies of luring only a few through the gate at a time kept the elementals from gaining any upper hand however, and soon Lucius and his group of twenty were within, staring at the central area of the mountain.

On a small platform, with a massive fire elemental that seemed drastically different from the previous ones they had dispatched, sat a hulking black anvil, seemingly suspended on the section of stone floor over a river of magma far below, with ventilation sections on all sides.

Engaging the massive elemental on the small platform seemed most unwise, so Lucius convinced their one ogre mage to go and antagonize the creature to pursuing it back to their group on much more secure ground.

His suspicions were confirmed, when the massive elemental put up quiet a difficult fight, sending out waves of flame that physically shunted back anyone near to it, but their goblin allies were hard at work mending their wounds as they battled the flaming creature until it was but embers.

By the Anvil there was a small pile of armor, four sets of bracers made from various materials, each seemingly just finished with whatever mending that they had been undergoing. Curious; however, were that of the four sets, only two were comprised completely of metal, while the thirds was studded leather and the last was cloth with thin metal wiring woven into it.

The craft of the dwarves here was truly marvelous, but their Goblin allies refused to accept any of the items, so Lucius divided them out to those who could wear them effectively. Voldemort got a set that were solid metal plates, while a Centaur archer received some that had more of a scale build to them. The stealthiest of the Veela received the studded leather, and the cloth wrist wraps went to Theodore Nott, who had done much in aiding their battle thus far with supplementing their forces with demons at every opportunity.

There was another passage beyond the massive anvil, and Lucius was sure that they ought to proceed further on, making sure that nothing snuck around them. Whether Nobu'tan and his group were doing as well in their progress as Lucius, the man did not know, but nevertheless, they had a mission to complete, and standing around waiting did nothing to further that goal.

The next area however, caused even him to pause. A long ramp way, which spiraled up a floor, was carved out of the solid walls of the chamber, and in pockets all along the walls of the room were more dwarves, all hard at work chiseling and sculpting stone effigies of their people, except that the statues were easily five to seven times larger than the dwarves themselves. That was not what had stopped Lucius in his tracks however, it was the fact that the statues moved on their own, turning to gaze sightlessly at their approach, and immediately lumbering toward them, fists high.