Many thanks to those who've reviewed, you're comments are always appreciated. please enjoy the next chapter! ~F
Chapter Eighty
Second Battle of Thoradin's Wall
Blaise was certain that something was calling him, far to the south of Kalimdor. He had taken his time picking through the lush forested area south of Desolace, and crossed swiftly through the areas held by the blue-skinned elves that seemed ever watchful for Horde races passing through their lands.
There was a massive ruin that held a great number of ogres, but they were strong and clearly had no influence regarding the Fel, so Blaise left them be, proceeding onward into the wide gorge with many tall rock formations.
From there he headed west, into a large flat desert, and south over the mountains to a wider empty expanse, still sensing that his destination was farther rather than closer. It was a strange thing, but he swore that a particular area of that desert had legitimate dragons in it, but he hadn't felt safe enough to linger and confirm what he suspected. Perhaps on the return trip he would investigate further.
After that, there was a massive crater filled with creatures he had never before seen, giant reptiles that hunted and killed each other for food. It was a magnificent place that was eerily held in a stasis of time, but still not what Blaise sought.
Crossing through that area carefully, he found himself back in a desert, but somehow hotter than the last, and the feeling of magic on the air was thicker. There was power here, something ancient and terrible, and Blaise wasn't going to be satisfied until he was aware of it and what threats it might cause to their plans.
The central part of the desert was dominated by another elven keep, and he avoided that at all costs, circling widely around it and coming upon a small encampment that hosted a range of races.
The symbol of the Twilight Hammer Clan was upon their banners, and woven into the robes that these cultists wore, and instantly Blaise understood. The same faction that had been present inside Blackrock Mountain when the Stormreavers had cleared it were here, in this strange place, practicing some magic that was unknown to him.
Nobu'tan would clearly want a full report of their activities, once Blaise was sure what they were up to. Sneaking into the ranks of these cultists was no difficult task, as they were so varied and encompassed all races that he could shift between if anyone got suspicious.
There were casters and warriors from all walks of life, and it was strange for such a unified fron tot be focused so much in this place. Blaise snatched some of their writings from open places for study, but it appeared that there was a measure of secrecy even within their organization, to the point where no one person had all the information.
And even from among what he subtle attained, there was little rationality to be found amid the ramblings and almost legitimate worship of some being that lived far beneath the sands, only referred to as the Old Gods.
From what he found, it was clear that these cultists were more than devoted to their new master, and seeking the literal end of the world in the form of these depraved creatures and the powerful shadow magic that they were granted from them.
But none of this was what concerned Blaise the most. It was the author of these pages that he found that caused the greatest stir within him. Nobu'tan had spoken to him privately, long before he was set out on his mission to eliminate the Shadow Council of this world, regarding key individuals to look out for, and discover what had happened regarding them.
Cho'Gall, the ogre mage lord, was chief among these particular individuals that Nobu'tan had mentioned, and from what the pages told him, it was the hands of that being that wrote them, meaning that the ogre was not only a member of this strange cult, but indeed their leader.
It would be very damaging to Nobu'tan to learn this, and Blaise wouldn't be surprised if the warlock launched a full blown attack on the southernmost desert of this land just to eradicate the remnant of the former orcish clan and hunt down the ogre himself.
While Blaise knew that they would not be able to allow this nihilistic cult operate any longer than they could, he didn't want to open up another front of their global war so soon, and was at something of a loss as how to proceed with this information.
Abandoning the camps, after stealing supplies to keep him going through the desert, Blaise made for the exit of the place, back to the massive primordial crater, and thought hard regarding what he might do. Draco was in Stormwind, and that was far closer than getting all the way back to Blackrock Mountain, even if there was a small amount of trouble in crossing the ocean unseen. His options seemed limited to either infiltrating the lands of the orcs, or else the city of Theramore once more.
Personally, he'd rather take his chances with the orcs once more rather than the Sorceress that had had him tracked for so long. The humans of Theramore seemed far more aware than the orc Warchief of the threat that he poised to them, and if he did not enter the city properly, perhaps they would not notice him boarding one of their zeppelins and crossing back to the eastern continent.
Whatever he decided, remaining here in this remote location was out of the question, as this information needed to reach someone of a higher authority, but not Nobu'tan just yet. For their own safety it had to be known of another that was trusted by the Grand Warlock and Warchief.
Dispelling his disguise of the Twilight Cult robes, Blaise started quickly back the way he had come, ignoring all distraction and hoping to return to the large rolling grassland in the center of the continent, which served as a highway to all points of this Kalimdor.
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Lucius was pleased with the restraint that Nobu'tan had shown about darting off at the merest notion of potential allies, and rather making sure that they weathered the oncoming attack well first. He had been testing the young master of the Horde in that, as while Lucius was sure that they could defend themselves without the powerful warlock among them, it would be far easier to repel attackers while Nobu'tan oversaw their strategy.
The masons had been warned not to return yet, as an attack on the wall was forthcoming, and the two members of the Black Harvest were watching from the battlements alongside archers and axe throwers as the line of the river buzzed with activity.
Their enemies were not yet ready to venture onto the opened ground, which was wise on their part, but it gave the defenders even more time to arrange themselves properly to what they could expect to be thrown at them.
An even larger group of long range archers were positioned behind the walls, ready to shoot down any enemy flyers that tried to pass their line, while rank upon rank of melee warriors choked the entry points in the walls and stood just back from the stairs to the top of the wall in case of siege equipment being brought up to scale them.
Lucius was more than certain that they were over prepared, but it never hurt to expect the unexpected of an enemy. From the spy they had captured and tortured, they had a good idea of what this other Horde's battle plan was going to be. A long range bombardment of the wall from behind the tree line, heralding their forces rushing forward with ladders and other means of scaling their walls.
Ironically it was not going to be a true attack, but merely a show of force to prevent the Horde from encroaching any further into Hillsbrad, and Lucius was amused at the audacity of the enemy commander. Throwing lives away just to make a point, it was so trite, and he was eager to see how many losses they suffered in the process.
Soon enough a figure appeared out of the trees, the commander wielding a massive war axe, surrounded by a small group of heralds and horn-blowers.
They sounded their war horns, and the forest rang with the pounding of drums. "Quite a show of force it will be…" Lucius commented to Nobu'tan, who nodded in reply.
From the edge of the forest, one of the herald's voices rang out, "Be bathed in the power of the Warchief! Drink in his might! Battle for the glory of the Horde!"
The commander soon followed, "Rise up, sons and daughters of the Horde! Today we battle a hated enemy of the Horde! LOK'TAR OGAR!
And from the trees surrounding the knot of leaders, warriors bust forth, roaring the warcry in reply and charging for the wall, even as their hidden catapults started to fire.
"They are out of range," Nobu'tan commented as the shots fell short of the wall itself, "you did well in clearing the forest like you did, Lucius…"
The older warlock nodded, but Lucius was still concerned. It was a mad tactic to rush a wall like this, with artillery clearly out of range, so what exactly was the plan of this army?
Nevertheless, once their foes were in range, Lucius gave the command for their defenders to commence their volley of arrows, bolts and axes. Projectiles flew in a storm from the ramparts, and rows of the advancing warriors fell to the ground in an instant.
"Such a waste of troops…" Lucius muttered to himself, scanning the field and trying to understand their enemy's plan.
"Perhaps they thought to provoke us out onto the open field of battle?" Nobu'tan suggested, equally puzzled despite his own knowledge of the orcs and their typical tactics.
"That cannot be, it would be too great a risk that we would stay behind them…" Lucius replied.
Looking toward their forward outpost, the ruins of Durnholde seemed to be holding as well, large barricades preventing entry to the keep while a small number of elite warriors guarded it, making the illusion of many more occupying the fortress very believable.
"What are they planning?" Lucius hissed to himself.
Then he saw it.
On the near side of the river, just inside the clearing that he had made stood a tall tower that was human in make. Horde warriors were swarming inside, raising their banner atop the distant location sounding a war horn for the capture of an objective.
"A single tower?" Nobu'tan asked, "these are not the tactics of any orc…"
"They're the tactics of a human," Lucius countered, even as the banner was erected, tall and proud, and the Horde's armies advanced as one out of the forest. It was far larger than they had anticipated. The initial wave was a mere scattering compared to the full might that was arrayed against them.
"I believe that this battle might just be a touch more than we had expected…" Nobu'tan commented, eyes sweeping the seemingly endless ranks before them.
"Did they call out every ally that they had for this?" Lucius wondered aloud, suddenly seeing what he had so far ignored. The initial wave of soldiers was comprised of old, battered warriors that had hoped for death on the battlefield, serving as a distraction for the rest of the army to move up in safety. They had not thrown their lives away, but sacrificed them.
"We may yet need to give battle on the open ground…" Nobu'tan commented, and Lucius said nothing, but agreed nonetheless.
The catapults rolled forward, through the shallow river and into range of the walls. Mages, warlocks and wizards all along the wall threw up defensive barriers to block the projectiles, even as the sky started to darken with wyvern riders.
"Now we see their true tactics," Lucius said, observing the joined assault as the ground forces charged forward, taking up the ladders and other equipment that the old warriors had brought partway across the field before them.
"It will avail them nothing," Nobu'tan said, stepping atop the wall and spreading his arms wide, the signal for the other warlocks to do the same, "they will all be swept aside in Felfire!"
There was a pulse of Fel magic, and the sky lit up with fire, pouring down upon the battlefield in torrents, accompanied by many demons. Lucius turned to face inward from the wall, gesturing a signal to the Warchief.
Nek'rosh Skullcrusher bellowed a warcry, even as the gates of Thoradin's wall flew open at his command. Wolf riders pounded out, followed by a select group of ogre warriors from the Balefire clan kept for just this purpose. They were quickly followed by their ground forces, even as the host of archers behind the wall opened fire, raining arrows down on the oncoming foe before they reached the counterattack.
Thunder and lightning flashed from the far tower however, and Lucius widened his eyes as he turned back. A massive bolt of electricity was flying directly at Lord Nobu'tan, who was concentrating on his spell to burn the entire land before them, and would not be able to defend himself.
Wand appearing in a flash, Lucius conjured the most power shield he could, and still felt his teeth rattle as the bolt of lightning struck it with the force of a hammer upon an anvil.
Nobu'tan allowed his spell to end, turning his attention to the tower. Electricity crackled and shot around the small platform atop the human structure, as though preparing another vicious attack.
"So I see…" Nobu'tan said, Felflame engulfing his arms as he built up the power of the Fel, "their Warchief has come…"
Felflame launched out in a concentrated beam of destructive power, even as another bolt of lightning rocketed out from the tower, each attack meeting over the battlefield with a tremendous blast of power, sending shockwaves pouring over the land as the elements challenged the might of the Fel.
At the same time, Lucius spotted a large group of warriors converging on the entrance to Durnholde, and wondered if the defense that they had created there would hold. A single Death Knight, even of Voldemort's power and skill might not be sufficient in even Lucius' cunning mind against a force so vast. But Nobu'tan had been clear that the former Dark Lord would be sufficient, and Lucius had held his tongue.
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Jania could sense that something was afoot, while Draco lingered on Theramore. Not from the man himself however, but rather from Aegwynn. The old Magna was up to something involving the young man, and Jaina herself likely, but the Sorceress was not terribly willing to imagine what the older woman was thinking.
It certainly was an attempt to push the two closer together, as while Jaina had to admit that she had some measure of attraction to the strange, highly magical young man, there was something standing between them that she could not place.
Draco had a sort of aloofness about him, not taking notice of the subtle gestures and movements that Jaina and Aegwynn had taken to draw him closer, and although Jaina could tell that it was not intentional, it proved a problem none the less.
Even now, as they walked together down the docks of Theramore, enjoying the evening lights and the sound of the ocean, something seemed rather off about the young man. Jaina couldn't say she didn't understand a bit of unease here and there, for her the sound of the ocean had been nothing but a painful reminder for the longest time, but here with Draco there was a sence of some sort of barrier between her and the painful memories.
She was sure that Aegwynn had told the man some if not most of the story regarding her father, and the fact that Draco had taken great pains to not comment or ask additional questions spoke highly of his propriety and noble heritage. A common man would not have been able to resist learning everything possible regarding such a terrible tragedy.
Not so with this man. While there clearly was an amount of discomfort in accordance with the knowledge that he likely felt he wasn't entitled to, Jaina had not felt that it affected his ability to interact with her in the slightest. This was a very good sign.
For the entire duration of his stay, the man was a perfect gentleman, and lent his own brand of wisdom when requested by Jaina on several matters of state. The ship to Stormwind had returned, and now was set to depart once more on the morrow, and Jaina was starting to wonder if the man felt anything for her whatsoever.
Aegwynn had stated that there might be a level of emotional disconnection from the heavy layers of Fel magic that clung to Draco like a second skin, but Jaina wasn't sure if she wanted to believe that. The Magna was very prejudiced against anything related to the demons, but Jaina had seen many a warlock of the Alliance that were perfectly reasonable people, with their own dreams and passions, and for many they burned even brighter than those devoted to other powers or skills.
"So, you're bound to leave tomorrow," she said casually as they walked, hoping to entice some conversation out of the man.
"Yes," Draco replied, turning and smiling at her genially, "my mother will be worried if I wait too much longer to bring your reply…"
"We'll make sure that you're well stocked for the journey, so you have plenty to remember about the time you spent here on Theramore," 'with me,' Jaina wanted to add, but stopped herself from doing so.
"I would be most grateful for that, the food on that ship is rather lacking at best," Draco commented, even as their walk took to the streets of Theramore.
The people of her city had taken to their leader's change of attitude regarding the unusual visitor quite well, and there were many an old woman that would smile and nod in approval as they were seen together over the few weeks. Jaina had at first been embarrassed by the attention, but learned quickly that her people were merely happy for her, and as the large family that they were couldn't help themselves but be involved somewhat in her life.
They passed one of the forges, currently cold and silent in the night air, which reminded Jaina of the many items that Draco had purchased during his stay. Most of these he had packed away in packaging and wrapping, clearly indeed as gifts for others when he returned to Stormwind, but for who Jaina had no idea.
"Do you think that you're gifts will be well received?" she asked, trying to resist the urge to just stand in silence and drink in the countenance of the man before her.
Draco tilted his head in mild confusion, before smiling in thought. "I would certainly hope so… Pasny wanted to come here with me so badly, but couldn't get away from her work in Goldshire for that long. She's trying to get out on her own, that girl… I think she's trying to prove herself to my mother or something…"
Jaina felt the smallest rush of panic, but more from the way Draco spoke of this other woman than the words he used. It only grew worse as the young man shook his head in amusement.
"I don't see why she thinks that way, I mean we're already engaged, and she already has mother's approval, so why must she continue to improve it when I will be more than capable of supporting the both of us…"
Jaina's heart froze. It explained everything. Draco was already taken by another woman. His heart wasn't in the running for anyone else, and she stood no chance in winning his affection. Then why did he himself come to deliver the letter from his mother?
"How long has that been decided?" Jaina asked, smothering her emotion and trying to keep civil.
"I would think that we had been betrothed since we were born," Draoc said, thinking hard, "there was a time when I think we were in flux, but when we came to Stormwind… I don't know… things sort of came together and I knew that I wanted to be with her… Mother still wants me to go out and meet other people I think, but when you know, you just know, right?" he continued sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly.
Jaina understood at last. He was not here of his own accord. Narcissa Malfoy was pushing the two of them together, but for what reason Jaina did not know. It did not feel malicious, but more the meddling of a loving mother that wanted the very best for her eldest son. It reminded her very much of her own mother, who had wanted Jaina to reciprocate the affection of Prince Arthas, long before the unpleasantness that caused the Third War.
She could not force herself to be angry at the woman, but it still hurt terribly to realize that she was just being used to distract and possibly break up two people in love. "Perhaps we should head back, you need to board the ship early tomorrow…" she said, trying to conceal the dejectedness in her voice.
Draco did not notice, and together they went back to Jaina's residence in the middle of the main tower of the city. The next day came swiftly, and soon enough Jaina was bidding farewell to Draco as he boarded the ship back to Stormwind. The only remaining thought in her mind was that she wanted very much to meet the woman who had claimed the heart of such a remarkable young man.
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Thrall was horrified at the power that this warlock of the Dark Horde possessed. First, this unknown figure was able create a battlefield wide storm of Felfire, and then to channel such a concentrated beam of destructive power to challenge the strength of the elements that the Warchief of the Horde called upon in benefit of his warriors.
Luckily, Saurfang was there to direct the effort of their forces, while Thrall stood as the distraction for the powerful caster. Granted, the fact of assaulting a massive wall was still daunting, and many were sure to be injured from flying ordinance, but not nearly as many if this warlock was allowed to cast freely.
Even as Thrall held tightly to the Doomhammer, lightning surging from the black hammer's head to content with the beam of Felfire, there would be the massive push across the field to claim the entrance of Durnholde keep, which would afford them a larger space from which to push their attack on the wall.
Sparks and discharges of fire and lightning splintered off across the battlefield, scorching and blasting small holes in the ground as the Horde warriors charged for the wall. From the side of the Dark Horde, wolf riders and ogre warriors surged forth to meet their charge, weapons swinging over their heads.
The battle would be chaotic and devastating, and Thrall worried that they might not actually succeed. Suddenly, Thrall felt a foreign sensation of magic strike him, and the Doomhammer was ripped from his hand. Dodging to the side as the beam of Felflame rocketed past the top of the tower, Thrall watched as the massive warhammer clattered to the ground of the tower's roof, leaving massive dents in the stone.
"Hopefully, with his own forces on the field, that warlock will not try to burn all of Hillsbrad to defeat us now…" Saurfang grunted, retrieving the Doomhammer and handing the weapon back to Thrall.
The human-raised orc examined the weapon, wondering why it spontaneously flew from his hand, but found nothing. "We still need to be vigilant, as that powerful a caster could wreck havoc among the battle even if not trying to devastate the entire field."
Saurfang nodded, "I'll lead the assault on Durnholde, make sure that we can fortify that location and move our demolishers closer to hit behind the wall."
Thrall nodded, "I'll take to the field and push toward the wall properly, and perhaps we can draw out this warlock into more direct combat."
Thrall could tell that the High Overlord did not like this plan, but instead of voicing it, the old Blackrock orc ordered for a full contingent of the Kor'kron to protect the Warchief as he took to the field.
Quickly they descended from the tower, amid the rushing of the next wave of Horde warriors advancing to the field. The Horde had brought little in the way of actual equipment to mount the wall, but with the gate open and spewing forth foes they might not require them to reach the battlements.
Thrall took point among the Kor'kron, leading them into the thickest part of the battle. A massive ogre was wading through, knocking orc and trolls aside with impunity.
Channeling the fury of fire into the Doomhammer, Thrall swung hard, a trail of molten lava flowing after his weapon, striking the ogre in the leg just above the knee. The creature howled in agony, losing grip on its weapon and collapsing to its knees, where the Kor'kron leapt upon it, ending its life swiftly while Thrall looked for other powerful foes to stop.
Unfortunately this action alone seemed enough to garner the attention of the warlock that led these orcs, as a figure seemed to throw itself from the battlements. A bundle of cloth and flame seemed to literally start to fly down to them, scattering the warriors of both Hordes as the green Felflames scorched the land beneath him as he landed.
Much like the warlock that he had witnessed in Orgrimmar, Thrall could tell that the figure before him was no orc, but the mannerisms and threatening visage begged to disagree with what the Warchief sensed.
"So," the warlock said, a grating sound like metal grinding over stones, "this is the supposed Warchief of the false Horde…"
The Kor'kron closed ranks around Thrall, sensing the immediate danger that this being represented. But Thrall waved them away, knowing that this one would only crush the elite honor guard. Only a direct confrontation would keep this one occupied.
The false orc smirked as Thrall stepped forward and brandished the Doomhammer. "You are sorely mistaken if you think that the Dark Horde has any rights to the legacy that came from the Warchiefs…" Thrall challenged back.
"Dark Horde…" the warlock said, almost savoring the words… "I like that… as we are to be enemies it seems it makes sense to have separate names between us… although it may be a far shorter war than expected…"
The orc spread his arms wide, and Felfire launched from them, appearing as wings behind the unknown creature masquerading as an orc, "As for our rights to the truth of the Horde, we have the heir clans of the original leaders of the Orcish Horde, Blackhand and Gul'dan!"
"No matter what you claim as your heritage, Doomhammer became Warchief, and through him, the Horde lived on and escaped the control of your demonic masters…" Thrall retorted.
"We shall see how long that time lasts…" the warlock replied, and the flames slowly died away. This did nothing to lower Thrall's guard, and he was ready to dodge as a quick burst of flame shot forth from the warlock.
The Kor'kron swarmed forward, but the warlock jumped into the air, transforming into a shadow and felfire demonic creature, scattering the honor guard with burst of flames from his wings.
Thrall heaved backward, throwing the Doomhammer with all his might at the transformed warlock, calling upon the spirit of the wind to guide his strike.
The hammer connected hard with the being in the chest, knocking the flying creature from the air as the massive hammer wheeled through the air back to Thrall's waiting hand. The creature fell to the ground, and the Kor'kron charged in to finish him, much like the ogre warrior before. Thrall thought the fight over before it even began for the briefest moment, before the area enveloped by the weapons of his Kor'kron erupted in flame and shadows, blasting the elite warriors backward.
The demonic creature rose once more, a glaive of shadow appearing in hand to challenge the might of the Doomhammer. "You have made a grave mistake…" the warlock said, his voice altered and echoing because of the form he had taken.
Thrall set into a fighting stance, gripping the Doomhammer in both hands and waiting for the attack to come. So long as he distracted this foe from his goal of wiping out the Horde's forces, then they may still prologue the fight to victory.
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Voldemort stood in the entryway for the fortress of Durnholde Keep. Already he had slain dozens of enemy warriors that had dared approach him.
It had been something of a surprise with how simply Nobu'tan and Lucius welcomed him back when he arrived, shortly before the mass of the Horde's army on their borders. It was almost as though they did not care if he returned.
The Death Knight had some grievance with that, but the fact that they viewed his arrival as an opportune moment to defend an important location was something of a balm to the wounded pride of the former dark lord. This fortress was clearly the goal of this attacking army, and Voldemort was commanded to stand in their way, alone, and slay to his stilled heart's content.
Rivendare's blade flashed in the noon sunlight as Voldemort stalked up and down the entryway, slaughtering every warrior that got too close, and although more kept coming, desperately trying to cut him down, he stood undaunted by their numbers.
Having just cleaved a troll in two, Voldemort turned to face the next challenger, and his blade was blocked with the ringing of metal on metal. The orc who opposed him was old, far older than any of the whelps that had come thus far, and his axe clearly had seen many battles. The orc pushed against Voldemort, throwing the Death Knight back several paces.
"Leave it to the Dark Horde to send the dead to do their bidding…" the orc snarled, squaring off against Voldemort, the massive two-handed axe held low and ready to swing upward.
Voldemort sensed that this warrior was a powerful veteran of many battles, and knew what he was up against. He would end this quickly and move on to wading through the young pups that were sure to follow.
"Avada Kedavera" he said coldly, allowing the powerful spell to ripple off the blade and launch itself at the orc.
To his surprise, and slight amusement the orc swatted the spell away with the head of the axe, and it exploded on the stones of the fortress beside them. "I won't fall to such arcane trickery so easily…" the orc said mockingly, readying himself once more for the attack.
Voldemort steeled himself. This would be a long drawn out battle between them, until the wounds that Voldemort was sure to inflict would overwhelm the old orc, and his reflexes failed him.
Charging forward with this in mind, Voldemort swung the heavy two-handed sword as hard as he could, feeling the vibrations shoot through his rotting corpse as the orc deflected it once more with the axe, and retaliated with a massive overhead swing, that Voldemort spun out of the way of.
Again and again the weapons clashed off each other, sparks starting to fly from the metal as the two combatants attacked and blocked. The other warriors hung back, almost fearful to interfere in the duel, and Voldemort had a thought on how he might win. Allowing the old orc to push him back, Voldemort skid several feet and put distance between himself than the axe-wielder.
Channeling the power of death, he laughed as the corpses all around them rose once more, brandishing their weapons once more and charging at the old orc and the young warriors behind him.
"Foul undead!" the orc roared, cleaving the first zombie that approached him in half, before pushing his way through, the other orcs, trolls, and tauren following quickly.
Voldemort had not expected that sort of overturn, as his minions were torn apart. He readied his weapon to take on them all, but the banshee forcefully took command of his body.
'You must not die yet,' she demanded, tugging him away from the oncoming forced. Voldemort was forced to withdraw, and herd the few forces that were holding the keep out a secret back exit and retreat back to Thoradin's wall.
Voldemort was incensed that his plan had backfired so suddenly, and the he wasn't even permitted to try and correct it, but which setback was more importantly going to harm his ability to keep this issue out of notice from the higher ups.
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Nobu'tan breathed heavily. He hadn't presumed that the orc Warchief from this other Horde would be as strong as he turned out to be. While the guards were easily cast aside, the powerful shaman was holding his own against the onslaught of the Fel that Nobu'tan was pouring forth.
Even as he clashed heavily with a weapon make purely out of Fel magic against the orc, he could sense the strength that the other Warchief held. And yet, he smirked. There was nothing he wanted more than to have a rival that had the strength to actually be a threat.
If it wasn't the case, he had been prepared to kill the Warchief, take control of the ragged forces here and demand that they all serve him, but now…
He allowed the orc to throw him backward, and channeled more of the demon magic around him, enveloping his view of the other orc as he turned sharply and teleported back to Lucius' side on top of the wall.
"We have a powerful foe in this Horde," he said, changing back into his standard illusion of an orc, "we will withdraw from this battle and hold the wall."
"Are you certain of this, my Lord," Lucius asked. Pulling their forces back would certainly damage the moral of their warriors."
"Yes," Nobu'tan said, "pull them back. We have made our point to the rest of the world here, and we'll find another way to expand to the north. Better to let them have their victory and spare our warrior's lives. I can sense that Durnholde is now theirs, prepare magical barriers to protect the wall from their artillery."
"As you wish," Lucius responded, sending out the signal for withdrawn, and the forces out in the field obeyed instantly.
Nobu'tan chanted alongside the other disguised wizards as they wove a powerful barrier over the battlefield, focused from the wall to protect from projectiles and spells, just in case the New Horde, as opposed to his Dark Horde, tried to scale the wall and push further into Arathi.
They would outlast any siege. Nobu'tan knew they had the supplies to do this; it was just making sure that they kept the attacks out of their lands and permitted no beachhead to be made.
As the barrier settled into place, Nobu'tan watched the Horde's warriors started to withdraw to Durnholde, as well as the edge of the river, forming base camps and clearly preparing for their long siege of the wall.
Descending from the wall, Nobu'tan rallied the leaders of the Dark Horde. "This was no defeat for us," he attested to their looks of disappointment, "We've shown the Horde what our strength is, and have been acknowledged as a legitimate threat. This siege will turn to our favor, as they cannot pass through this region ever again. We can move to the south and focus our efforts elsewhere, while their armies are forced to remain here, hammering uselessly on a magically impenetrable barrier that we've created."
Nek'rosh started to nod, understanding what this battle had actually meant, "We will spread the word of our success then," he said, as the other leaders split off to see to their warriors and clans. Lucius returned in the meantime as Nobu'tan started back toward Stromgarde.
"What shall we do regarding VanCleef and his people?" he asked, "they will not be able to do much of their work with a siege happening right outside the gates…"
"I will handle that," Nobu'tan said, "and perhaps it will be wise of us to see about capturing the ruins of Alterac in the mountains, to try and open a new front here, we would be able to funnel them through to that project while we wait for the siege to break."
"So long as we do not stretch ourselves too thin," Lucius commented, "there are seemingly a large number of endeavors that we are committed to, and the manpower issue may be become strenuous if we are not careful…"
"I understand Lucius," Nobu'tan retorted, shooing off the older wizard, "We will make sure to proceed carefully and grow our forces wisely at the same time."
"See that you do," Lucius warned, and Nobu'tan nodded, before turning and walking away.