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Chapter Fifty Five

Thaurissan's Fall

Lucius was suitably unimpressed with the fact that they were completely ignored as the large group of heavily armed warriors entered the brightly lit and raucous tavern in the middle of the mountain. The dwarves, all busy with their leisure and inebriated beyond comprehension, didn't even take note of their passage. It was a lack of security that was appalling to Lucius' sense of reason.

True, they weren't in reality unnoticed, as the even smaller proprietor in his wide wizard hat was watching them suspiciously, as well as a meandering succubus that was serving drinks to the patrons. The far door of the tavern was guarded by a jet black golem, roughly the same size as Teg'Ramm and looking as though it had been through many a dwarven bar fight.

"If we start anything my Lord, they will turn no us like a pack of wolves," Lucius said to Nobu'tan, noting the ice cold glare that the warlock was sending over the entire room.

"I know, but needs must, but first I want a drink and perhaps to figure out the best strategy," Nobu'tan replied, surprising Lucius that the young man actually wanted ale that was being served to dwarves, and was likely as strong as it could possibly be made.

"Have everyone spread out in uniform groups, and be ready for my signal," Nobu'tan instructed, before smiling broadly at the proprietor and striding toward the diminutive figure.

Lucius acted quickly, dividing their force up and making sure that they were in prime defensible locations all around the two storm tavern, for the event where things turned sour and they had to slaughter everything living in the building, and quite possibly a few of the nonliving automatons.

It didn't take terribly long, as almost as soon as Nobu'tan had his drink, a Dark Iron dwarf saddled up and started talking quite angrily to the warlock, drunk out of his mind of course, and the Warlock wasn't about to take any level of abuse from the likes of him.

The proprietor, clearing spotting the beginning of the largest bar fight ever, quickly jumped up onto the bar and yelled, waving his arms, "Phalanx, attack!"

Nobu'tan fired a powerful blast of fire at the large kegs of alcohol, setting them alight with a explosive result, and all the dwarves in the bar were suddenly snapped from their drunken stupors, and realize that they were surrounded by enemies.

Weapons were drawn from places even Lucius had not expected, and the dwarves ran like mad, trying to reach their spread our knots of warriors, who were more than ready to receive them.

Teg'Ramm bolted from Lucius' group, charging at the massive golem that was advancing on the proprietor and Nobu'tan, who were locked in a duel of dark energies. Apparently, as the succubus had implied, the owner of the tavern was also a warlock.

The ogre mage slammed heavily into the massive statue, sending the pair of them crashing into another massive keg of intoxicating liquid, and it flowed across the stone floor to mix with the blood of the dwarves as they were slaughtered in the madness that ensued.

Lucius lost sight of the pair in the struggle, but once the last dwarf had been put down like the animals they were, Lucius turned back and spotted Nobu'tan picking up the forgotten tankard that he had been drinking from, and downing the rest as Teg'Ramm loomed over the warlock, wrapping bandages delicately over the warlock's arm, almost as though mothering the human.

The door beyond the tavern had been smashed open as more dwarves had entered to try and stop the battle, but all that had succeeded in doing was opening the way for them to proceed. "Are you alright, my Lord?" Lucius asked, wondering just how inebriated Nobu'tan was, but the younger man waved off his concern.

"Our magical bodies are quite adept at processing this level of swill," he said, disgusted, "Although I wouldn't dare drink any more of it if not for the slight numbing effect it has for wounds. It was not the way I had hoped to cause this end, arguing with a dwarf over their swill that they call liquor, but there you have it…"

They moved on, taking a spare few items from several figures, all magical in nature, and the Goblins greedily plundered most of the coin from the fallen, eager to see how the composition of currency in this world compared to their own.

Lucius found that they had journeyed back to the same elevated ring overlooking the great black anvil, albeit they were on the far side from the vaults that his group had already plundered, heading toward yet another off-shooting passage they seemed to lead even deeper into the mountain.

Nobu'tan sent several eyes of Kil'rogg ahead of them, and said that it was a rather linear passageway to the next few chambers, and that they needs be getting closer to the location of the leader of these dwarves.

The very next room however, gave Lucius quite a surprise. Waiting for them, grasping a flaming trident and with a angry gleam in its eyes, was a creature he had never before laid his eyes upon. The beast seemed part serpentine, with bipedal arms and torso, but no legs, only a long tail and fiery tendrils from its equally snake-like head.

"You will go no further, by orders of Ragneros the Firelord." The creature hissed in the common tongue of Azeroth.

The goblin shaman took the lead, each of them conjuring the elements in their hands as they prepared for battle.

"You are fools to defy me!" the creature roared, waving it trident overhead and summoning elementals of fire from all corners of the room, which charged with the creature at them.

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Nobu'tan leapt into action the moment that the servant of the elemental lord attacked, ordering their forces of demons to intercept and engage the smaller elementals that the serpent creature summoned, allowing their direct forces to quickly surround the berserk creature.

Clearly the servant of the Firelord was not accustomed to such aggressive behavior of its enemies, or rather was a fool for thinking that Nobu'tan was any less prepared to counter its pitiful elementals, as once beset upon by the Veela and Centaurs, it was slain in almost no time flat.

The circlet that the creature wore fell to the ground and rolled as the beast died, coming to a rest as Nobu'tan feet. Surprisingly, as he picked it up it burst into flames, but the fire did not burn his fingers, nor did he feel any heat from them whatsoever. The intimidation factor alone was what persuaded him to don the fiery headpiece, but Nobu'tan could sense that it was a magical amplifier as well, and would enhance his ability to channel spells of the same affinity.

The ringing of hammers on metal was heard from beyond, and Nobu'tan could only guess that the forges of the great mountain kingdom were ahead, where raw metal and ore was processed before being distributed throughout the area for various smiths and workings.

So close to the river of lava that seemed to run through the base of the mountain, it was clear that this was the purifying area for the ore, and Nobu'tan was not in the least ways surprised to find several dark colored golems hard at work monitoring the flows of the molten metal and rock as it poured in rivers far below their feet, visible through grates that released a great deal of heat.

There was one of the golems, however, which was pure white, like polished steel but with a bluish tint to it, which turned on them and started to attack. The multitude of dwarves that were present overseeing the work of the golems started to run from them, heading for the far side where a passage led beyond.

Once again the centaur were called forth to run down the dwarves, while Teg'Ramm and the ogre magi clashed and wrestled with the many golems, allowing the others to attack as they would. Nobu'tan remained rather aloof of this particular conflict, already thinking ahead to what he had seen through the eyes of Kil'rogg. Beyond this chamber there was a tomb chamber, and beyond that the mountain passage split, one side going down to the very bones of the mountain, while the other pressed on to the heart of the city, where he could only presume that the leader of these dwarves, their Emperor, was located.

He had no love left for the small creatures, and desired to take the mountain fully for himself, whether Rend was there to act as Warchief or not. So, he pressed on with several of his forces while the other finished those remaining in the forging room, eager to cross the tomb and set up guards at the split in the passage.

But to his great surprise, the door at the far end of the tomb had been shut and sealed, and as he entered with a limited group of the council of the Black Harvest, and their demonic servants, the door behind them also slammed shut, and one by one specters rose from the tombs, brandishing the weapons that they had used in life, and attacking with magic and steel.

Nobu'tan lacked time to care about what these undead demanded of them, respect or some other rot, which he had no care to do, and called forth a torrent of Felflame, amplified by his newly acquired magical equipment, and allowed the green torrents of demonic fire to flow freely from his hands, washing over the tombs and their deceased occupants, charring even the already blackened stone. The others took it upon themselves to channel their own magic, summoning demons and fling concentrated blasts of energy at their assailants.

It was almost a boring sight, to see the vengeful dead put down in such a brisk and efficient manner, that Nobu'tan almost wondered if they ought to not just level the entire subsection of the mountain and allow it to collapse on the dwarves, ending their kingdom in one fell swoop.

Alas that was not part of the agreement that he made with Rend, and if he wished the fortress to be useable afterward, he needed it to remain structurally sound, once the last ghost was banished back to the now thoroughly charred tome from whence it came, the pair of doors opened with a shuddering crash, and a small trove of items fell from a stone coffer near the exit, which had cracked open from the intense heat of the demonic fire.

Teg'Ramm was the first through the door behind them, wielding a golem's arm as a mace and looking about for foes to destroy. Nobu'tan wasn't sure why, but the ogre mage had become something of an overbearing guardian since just before they summoned the Legion, something of a mixture of concerned care giver and bodyguard. It wasn't unwelcome of a concept, but odd nonetheless.

Banishing the idle thought for another time, Nobu'tan let the last vestiges of flame die away, and led them on to the split in the path as he had already scouted out.

"That direction leads to the areas occupied by the elementals, and is significantly more well guarded than the dwarven sections of the mountain," he informed those nearest him as they arrived. "I want Doomguards blocking the pathway there, until we return from dealing with the Dark Irons once and for all."

Those who practiced the Fel arts nodded, knowing already what was being asked of them, and forming themselves into groups of five, began the arduous rituals that would call forth some of the more powerful members of the Burning Legion into their service.

The Rituals of Doom were such that, unless one had enough stocked up souls to offer the demon for its arrival, could prove fatal to all those who participated in the summoning, and those nearest to them as well. But during the long fought battles on earth prior to their return to Azeroth, Nobu'tan had prepared great stores of souls for their use, smuggling them away from the Legion without their notice or concern for just such occasions.

True, the sheer number of doomguards they were about to summon would indeed damage the supply of souls that they had, but now that they were on an entirely new world, getting more crystallized souls for their rituals would be far simpler.

The first wave of extremely powerful demons arrived not a moment too soon. Massive elementals and magma giants started surging from the cave network to the side, charging them to try and bisect their forces from each other. Deciding quickly as the ranks of demons met the elementals and held the line, Nobu'tan commanded many of their warriors and warlocks to stay and keep the way cleared, while he took another, smaller, force to finish off the dwarves and return.

Teg'Ramm, Lucius and surprisingly Voldemort demanded each in turn to accompany Nobu'tan, and he could find no reason to deny them. Leaving Draco, and many of the Council with the defenders, Nobu'tan selected six others to accompany them into the depths of the dwarven city, and pressed on to find and remove the head of these Dark Irons from their collective body.

Down and ramp off to the side, there was a massive stone door, which Teg'Ramm threw his body into and heaved open before them. Nobu'tan was shocked at the sheer number of dwarves that awaited them. Hundreds, if not a thousand heavily armed and angry Dark Irons filled the halls, ready to fight and die for their people.

"Find the exit through here, and meet me there," Nobu'tan stated, stepping forward and drawing all the energy of the Fel to him, "I will catch up to you…"

"What do you plan, boy?" Voldemort said sardonically.

"I will teach them the meaning of fear." Nobu'tan stated, glaring down at the first ranks of dwarves even as his form shifted into the well familiar demonic shape. Wings spread widely Nobu'tan leapt into the ranks of dwarves, Fel magic flying from his form and flames buffeting from his wings.

A demon in all but essence, he tore into their lines and sent the dwarves hurtling in all directions with his increased strength. Funneling the powers of the Nathrezim that he had learned from the short stint on Argus, Nobu'tan exuded an aura of fear and terror as he fought, sending just as many dwarves fleeing in fright as he slew.

Grapping a dwarf that was about to turn and retreat, Nobu'tan hefted the short man into the air by the throat, listening for the audible crack as his claw-like hands of shadow crushed windpipe and spinal cord, before throwing the dwarf like a discarded toy into a crowd of his fellows that were attempting to mount a counterattack.

That, among the other carnage that he was causing, seemed to break their spirits at last, and the dwarves fled before him, leaving their dead and dying as he stormed after them, toward the far side of the hall, where a pair of massive braziers waited, guarded by small elementals of fire, which his followers had engaged, clearly in the need of lighting them to open the doors.

The foolish dwarves thought that they could hinder their progress and bar the way, even in the fear of Nobu'tan. It availed them nothing however, as with a mighty leap he soared through the air, crashing with an earth rattling slam into the midst of their ranks once more.

The others turned upon their assailants with fury, and even in his rage and bloodlust, Nobu'tan noted that Voldemort had set upon the dwarves from the other side, channeling all the powers of death and carnage that he could bring to bear, as a true knight of death.

Between the pair of them, the conflict that the dwarves poised to give them turned into a rout, with channels of blood and piles of bodies in their wake as the other eight of their party activated the beacons and the doors beyond them ground open with a shuddering sound.

From beyond, bursts of flames came from statues lining the hall, a defense that seemed last ditch and at the end of the hall stood yet another giant of magma stone. The giant roared in defiance of their advance, but Nobu'tan's company was unimpressed.

They had come too far, sacrificed too much to turn back now, and so, led by a charge of what Centaur had joined them, they advanced. Teg'Ramm blocked a jet of fire with a hasty spell, shattering the stone statue that had been enchanted to defend the way, and Lucius withdrew his wand, banishing piles of the rubble at the giant before them, distracting it from smashing several of their warriors with its massive fist.

Nobu'tan himself, exhausted from maintaining his transformed self for the entirety of the previous chamber and battle, stayed to the rear, recovering his mana reserves through what means he could, watching the other nine of their company do battle with the giant. Teg'Ramm fired a blast of purest chaos at the giant, rending off a portion of its arm and sending it staggering back in shock and fear into the massive gate beyond it.

If the beast had had any intentions of standing up and continuing the fight, they were denied, as the ogre mage charged forth, hands charged with Fel fire and took firm hold of the giant's head, smashing it several times against the gate with resounding booms.

With great effort, the ogre pulled, muscles straining as the stone head was violently removed from its body, using the mound of stone as a makeshift battering ram once more to smash open the door.

"The throne room at last," Nobu'tan said, pleased that at last they had found the end of their journey in these sets of halls. The long throne room was filled with nobles of the Dark Irons, as well as many of the supposed members of this strange cult that bore the symbols of the Twilight Hammer Clan.

At the far end, upon a blazing throne of stone sat a powerfully build dwarf, anger etched in his face like the stone upon which he sat. "Who dares invade my halls and slay my people!" the Emperor demanded, the bluster lost upon those who were here to slay him.

The last remaining guards, and even those Twilight cultists were more than eager to defend the Emperor with their lives, and gladly rushed at the Stormreavers, while the nobles and other civilians of the Dwarves fled in terror, but there was no way out for them, as the throne room was clearly a dead end, a last bastion of defense wherein they thought that they would be safe from the siege.

Nobu'tan personally wouldn't have had it any other way. Their forces were well tried and tested, and this paltry force of remaining guards and fools of varied races wouldn't stop them from eradicating the last of the leadership of these Dark Irons. Soon enough there was little left between them and the Emperor himself, who rose in a towering rage that eclipsed the lack of height that the dwarf possessed.

Stepping down from the high platform upon which his throne was placed, the dwarf lord took up his royal scepter as a mace, and rallied the last of his royal guards, a female in robes with a staff at his side, which Nobu'tan recognized as a different race of dwarf, as she lacked the grey tinted skin of the Dark Irons.

It was just as the prisoner had said, Moria Bronzebeard was a prisoner in her own mind to the Dark Iron Emperor. The real question was whether it would be worth his time to actually permit the dwarf female to live. On the one hand, she was an enemy to the Horde, with or without her mind, but on the other it would be a cruel and uncompromising reason to put her to death for reasons beyond her control.

Making a quick decision, and knowing that he would have to deal with the consequences for his mercy, he commanded, "Do not harm the female, she is under a spell, but I want the Emperor's head."

Whether any of his followers found the order strange, there was no sign, as they had already begun to throw themselves upon the last remnant of the defenders, and challenge the Emperor in open combat, while the Bronzebeard princess channeled powers of the Light to mend his wounds. 'Because of course she would be a priestess,' Nobu'tan thought scornfully, adding his own contribution of magic to slay the dwarven lord.

"You cannot stop me, I am the King of this mountain, and no mongrel orcs or their allies will stop me!" Tharussian yelled, his rage the same as the beating volcanic heart of his home, and the dwarf channeled that power into his great strength, throwing even a centaur from him, and heavily denting armor and shield alike as they fought with him.

The healing magic of the princess kept him fighting however, and Nobu'tan knew something had to be done to prevent this or else they would keep fighting until his forces were out of strength to continue.

Quickly summoning a Felhunter, he commanded the dog-like demon to siphon off the magic of the princess, rendering her spells ineffective and useless, which gave Voldemort, who had taken to the front in the battle against the Emperor, the time he needed to inflict great wounds on the dwarven lord.

Slowly, the rage of the mountain lord dwindled, as he lost the ability to have his wounds restored, and under the wrath of the Death Knight, he eventually fell, bleeding and exhausted at their feet. What Nobu'tan did not expect was the reaction from Moria, who screamed in rage and sorrow, and ran to the fallen dwarf's side, heedless of the foes that she passed through, although she was unhindered.

Sobbing in rage, and clutching the fallen Emperor, she screamed at them all in the dwarven tongue, but only a scant few of them understood when she later switched to the human's common. "You animals! You've killed my husband, the Dark Irons will never forgive you for this, we will rise again and come after your hideous allies and slay all of you, I so swear it!"

Then, as though coming to herself and realizing that she had just declared war on an enemy that had her in their power, Moria Bronzebeard turned and fled into an as of then unknown secret door, disappearing into the crevasse and out of sight.

"Should we pursue her?" Lucius asked, look in the direction that the dwarf woman had fled.

"No, leave her to her grief," Nobu'tan stated, already gathering some of the royal items of the Dwarf Emperor, "We have what we sought from here. There is only the Elemental Lords to deal with now, and we can return at last to Rend and receive the full fellowship of the Horde."

The others agreed, affirming his decision to let the remaining Dark Irons depart from the fortress, for there clearly had to be more than those they slew in this mountain, along with the vengeful queen. Nobu'tan knew that mercy could be considered a weakness, but he was not blind. And he would not kill a pregnant woman, no matter the race. The curses that fell upon those who slew children, well, Voldemort was proof of that in his mind.

"We return to the others, let's leave these halls of death," Nobu'tan commanded, and together they backtracked through the pair of chambers to the long bridge that led to the roots of the mountain. The flow of elementals had ceased, but the doomguard remained, wings flittering as they moved back and forth to keep their vigilant watch.

Nodding to the demons, who moved to the side to permit their passage, Nobu'tan beckoned for their forces to proceed in formation. Who knew what lay ahead of them in the volcanic bowels of this place, and it would be to their benefit to be as prepared as they could.

The doomguard had to remain to guard their exit, and prevent anything from escaping to those areas of the mountain that had been cleared already, but otherwise they were more than able to bring forth a small army of lesser demons to do their bidding, and spearhead their advance to the lowest levels of the volcano.

Despite his confidence that they would succeed, Nobu'tan had a nervous twinge of what exactly they were to find this deep beneath the earth, and he was concerned by the words of the strange serpent creature that they had encountered before. He knew next to nothing about a Firelord, and what they could expect to fight from this point on. A trap was currently the least of his worries.

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Voldemort was greatly disgusted with Potter, and his weakness in sparing the female dwarf and her remaining subjects, but naturally he was no longer a force to make any sort of pivotal changes within this new organization, which still grated on his nerves to no end. Granted, with all the push from the rest of their assembled group to move on, he was not given the time to so much as process the ramifications of the young man's foolish actions before they were hurtling off toward the next foe once again.

Across the wide bridge that led into the deepest parts of the mountain, Voldemort could sense that the heat from the ever closer pools and rivers of magma was increasing exponentially, despite his rotting corpse of a body lacking the ability to actually feel sensations any longer.

Elementals of fire and stone blocked their path as the progressed, along with giants made of lava rock and molten magma, in addition to a strange sort of fiery beast, somewhat canine in appearance with two separate heads, not unlike a Cerberus after a fashion.

Comparatively to the dwarves that they had so easily slaughtered, their progress was far slower, requiring much more effort to dispatch every foe they encountered, and great care to make sure that they remained safely away from the dangerous drops off either side of the stone pathways that they traveled, seeking ever further downward for this reported Firelord that awaited them somewhere in the swirling vapors of steam.

As they crossed a small metal bridge toward a network of caves, Voldemort had to give credit to their choice of including the whelps of goblins as their allies. Multiple times there were serious burns and injuries, even to Voldemort, that were mended near instantaneously by the goblin magic, and otherwise would have slowly crippled their force and required them to retreat for a time for respite.

The ability for them to continue on and keep fighting was a boon that few could scoff at, and a great advantage in this environment. In the caves were a horde of small, imp-like creatures of fire, who surged forth at the sight of their forces, only marginally held back by a sudden counter onslaught of demons that the warlocks were constantly summoning to give them a buffer from the direct conflict with the denizens of these chambers.

Once the imps were slain, they peered around the final passage in the small network of tunnels, and Voldemort greatly distrusted the sign of countless of the twin-headed hounds, all seemingly young and resting, or at play with each other, while a massive mother was at the far end, watching over her brood with what might have been an animalistic sort of pride.

Another of the fiery serpent creatures, much larger than the one previously they had fought, slithered among the hounds, inspecting each of them as a breeder would, a pair of assistants following behind him.

They took near immediate notice at the hounds' agitation when the Stormreavers came into view, or possibly scent, Voldemort wasn't sure how much these beast would resemble canine of their old world, but nevertheless the beasts were hostile, and with massive growls and snapping jaws they lumber over in groups.

The problem here was when a few were quickly killed, the flames of their fellows would slowly reignite them, and the hounds were stagger back to their feet to continue fighting. The first pack were a true nightmare to combat, but after a time the Stormreavers worked themselves into a patter, understanding how to lead the group of hounds away from those that had fallen, and soon enough scattering their dead bodies in the far corners of the tunnel nearest to them.

Flashes of fire and dark curses were hissed at them from the serpent creature, even at it and its companions engaged them, but without the support of the hounds it was a futile effort, as the sheer number of demons alone that were summoned were more than enough to keep them from actually reaching and injuring any of the warlocks or their allies.

Unfortunately, once the handler fell to the weapons and powers of their forces, the mother hound at the rear of the tunnel let out a bellowing roar, charging forward to defend the remainder of her young, and Voldemort had to dodge out of the way of the massive stamping paws as the creature charged into their ranks, unafraid of the torrent of demons that tried to hinder it.

Striking a the creature's hide with one of the swords he had acquired from the dwarves, Voldemort was not surprised to find that the metal had little effect on the toughened and fiery hide of the mother beast, and he was forced to resort once more to his new magic over frost and death.

Aiming carefully for one of the areas that seemed to vent fire and heat from the beast's insides, Voldemort unleashed a torrent of frost at the creature, and it reared back in agony and surprise at the foreign concept of cold.

Nobu'tan seemed to catch onto the concept quickly, and added his own abilities with the ways of frost magic, sending forth a surge of sharpened icicles into the soft parts of the beast's body and legs, which displeased the gargantuan beast all the more.

Meanwhile, those that lacked the ability to channel the powers of ice did what they could, distracting and harming the creature in more mundane way, with swords and other magic that seemed far less effective on the fiery creature.

None of them however attempted to add more fire to the mix, understanding that these beasts would be well resistance to the effects of more heat, even if it was cursed demonic fire.

Soon enough the torrents of icy magic started to take its toll on the beast of fire, slowing it down and starting to calm the fires on its skin, which further allowed those with only weapons of war to add their contribution, chipping off pieces of the beast with their weapons as it howled in agony at the biting sting of their steel and other metals.

It was then that Voldemort decided to try something new. Delving into the possibilities of his new necromantic magic, the Death Knight ripped into the beast, siphoning off life essence directly from the massive beast, and then wielding that energy as bolts of destructive pain on the offspring that rushed to their mother's aid.

Without the added distraction of the young attacking in waves, the hound matron was quickly slain, collapsing into a writhing heap upon the ground, while a noticeable amount of power and magic was released from the rear of the dead end tunnel where she had rested before they entered.

Voldemort accompanied Nobu'tan to investigate this release of magic while the others took to harvesting whatever they could find from those they had slain, treasure seeming to be spilling from the hound matron's wounds to the torso and belly, she seeming to have consumes much in her lifetime.

The Death Knight and Warlock discovered a faded rune place upon the floor where the hound had been lying, which still had several extremely faded scraps of magic left, giving a clue to what it's purpose had been. "A locking mechanism of some sort," Nobu'tan deduced, and Voldemort agreed.

"But part of a set, meaning that there are others before we can discover what it is that these runes bar from us," he added, noting the nature of the carvings. The language was not one that he recognized, but his experience in Ancient Runes told him much regarding the shape and configuration of it, even if he couldn't read the wording itself.

"We ought to find the others, I would wager that we will need to disable them all if we are to clear out this caves of the Firelord and his minions for good." Nobu'tan concluded, and the pair returned to the rest of their group, happily accepting a few items from the fallen, before backtracking to the main tunnels.

It seemed that the other minions had also felt the pulse of power as the rune was disabled, as they had risen up again to swarm out of the tunnels ahead, and were already battling with some demons that the warlocks had left behind to cover their rear, and their line was almost broken when the main force returned, charging into battle with sword and spell. Voldemort himself charged to the front, eager to experiment more with his powers over life and death, eagerly ripping at the life energy of his foes, and straining to understand how these living elementals had life force for him to manipulate.

It was quite unlike anything he had experienced in their old world, as inanimate objects like stone or fire, while powerful, were never able to attain their own sentience, but were always completely under the control of the witch or wizard that summoned them, like puppets on strings.

But that was not so here, as Voldemort watched a trio of living boulder creatures rumble toward them, the jet black coloration of the rock concealing the sharp edges and volcanic glassy nature of the material they were comprised of.

Perhaps, he mused as they pushed on into the advancing ranks of their foes, it had to do something with the sheer amount of magic that pervaded the air of this world, compared to the one they had come from.

It didn't take a particularly powerful wizard to understand that this world was rich with magical energy, flowing in currents both above and below the surface. Where magic was primarily contained in the individual creatures and the Leylines of their own world, it lived and breathed here as its own being, in addition to saturating the very ground around them, regardless of the place they had crossed through.

While true, some places had been tainted with different flavors of magic, it was nonetheless extremely plentiful. Grudgingly, Voldemort had to concede that this world was superior to their own, and that coming here was a worthwhile goal of the young man that he had been bound to, although binding them all to this demonic horde that sought destruction was still in debate of whether it was a worthy price for this.

Although, in the few times that Voldemort had overheard Nobu'tan and the others discuss the Legion, which had been rare, they had shown some measure of scorn for the endless army that had destroyed their home world, and demanded that this one too be put to the flame of their devastation.

He wondered if they were considering backing out of their deal with the Legion, refusing to sacrifice this world to them and becoming permanent residents of this place instead. It would be a hard put sort of lifestyle, as who knew when the Legion would find some other means of invading, and they would instantly be at the top of their attack list, but Voldemort felt that if that was their chosen course, it would be acceptable to him for the time being, until he discovered a more fitting end for himself that was worthy of the most dangerous Dark Lord of their world's history.

Soon enough, another of the massive serpent creatures appeared, with guards this time of the same species, and attacked them with bursts of magma and flame, attempting to lead a counterattack to drive them out of the core of the mountain.

Sadly, for the creature at least, the warlocks were already in the midst of summoning more reinforcements from the Twisted Nether, which held their charge back until they were overwhelmed by the sheer numbers of demons and other extra-worldly creatures.

Pressing back against their attack, Voldemort felt the ground begin to tremble, as though a cave in was approaching them, and for a moment when he looked he was nearly convinced that that was exactly what was happening. A horde of rock elementals, let by a massive one of steel gray and black ore, thundered up the slopes carved by magma in the underground tunnels, hurling themselves as well as boulders into the ranks of the Stormreavers.

Voldemort knew that those among them with healing powers would be hard pressed at this point, even as he himself took a boulder to the side, feeling one of his arms break under the force, although it caused him no pain through his deadened nerves.

Instead, he stepped back from the front lines, turning his dark powers upon his own weapon, channeling the deathly magic into the blade, and launched back into the fray with a vengeful scream of unholy fury. Whether these creatures could feel fear he did not know, but nevertheless the dark green flames of undeath that shrouded his blade cracked stone and seemed to beat upon those elementals of fire as though they were solid creatures.

A pair of wild, destructive blasts of magic soared over the heads of the frontline fighters, striking the hulking rock elemental with concussive force, and the Dark Lord needn't guess that Crabbe and Goyle Sr. were up to their old tricks, thoroughly empowered by the chaotic magic that Potter had taught to them.

What was astounding was the devastation to the beast that the pair of magical attacks had. The angered stone face crumbled, and the entire elemental shattered into a fine powder, aside from metal and certain other things that fell from it, apparently hidden within its bulk. There were many items and weapons, which Voldemort felt was quite odd for such a creature to hold onto, but he was in little position to judge when the thing was already dead.

One of the goblin shaman ran to him as the others mopped up the remaining foes, and with magical water rushing through the tiny clawed hands, Voldemort felt the crushed and broken arm start to mend itself, snapping back into place with a sickening crunch, if such things meant anything to him anymore.

Nodding his appreciation to the goblin, Voldemort started toward the main group of their leaders, who were standing over the large pile of treasure that they had collected thus far in this place, deciding quickly on how best to store it until they were well away from danger and able to distribute it effectively to their followers.

Voldemort however, spotted something unusual. Among the gathered items and equipment that they had found, there was what seemed to be a glittering single bracer, or some other sort of overlarge wrist binding, that seemed to beckon Voldemort much as the smoking heart of the mountain had.

With little thought he took the item, unnoticed by any of the others, who were dealing with the task of organizing the crews that would carry the rest of the items until they returned to the Horde camp.

As he grasped the large wrist guard, Voldemort felt a rushing sensation, which was odd due to his corpse-like state, almost like the rushing of wind down his back, but naturally in the underground chambers of the volcano that was simply not possible to have happened.

Idly, as he prepared to move on with the rest of the group as they marched toward the next passage if there was a second bracer to go with this one, making it a true pair of bindings.