Chapter Ninety Nine
Into the Dread Citadel
Narcissa awoke to the gentle candlelight of the Stormwind Cathedral, and the soothing chants of the priesthood going about their religious duties. Since the invasion, she had been offered room in the upper levels of the Cathedral. The small room was cramped and bare, but it was far better than trying to make her way back to her home through the streets still being cleaned of the bodies of the dead.
With Varian and the others, including her son, off on their retaliatory expedition, it was safest for her to be here, where the healers and priests could look after both her and the newest member of the Malfoy family.
Aurora Estella Malfoy rested peacefully in her crib, the little girl's wisps of blond hair already formed on her head. The little baby had crystal blue eyes, resembling more of her Black heritage in that regard, but nonetheless the perfect little girl in Narcissa's old age.
The priests of the light had declared her a marvel, with the magic that had framed her from birth, and called her a Gem-child, something to be cherished and protected. The Night Elf druids had come as well, sensing the potential that lay within little Aurora, and had done what they could to protect the Cathedral as the undead assaulted it.
Narcissa sat up, just as the door to her room opened, "My dearest wife," Lucius said, entering and gazing down at her, pure love written in his features.
"Husband." Narcissa said, smiling back.
"You are so beautiful," Lucius said, helping Narcissa to her feet, and together they walked to the edge of the crib. "Our daughter, the light of our life…" Lucius said, reaching forward to gently lift the baby girl from the bed.
"Aurora… sweet child of light…" Lucius said, cradling the baby against his chest. "Your parents couldn't be more proud. And I look forward to introducing you to your brother soon…"
"How soon will Draco return?" Narcissa asked.
"I do not know, but no sooner than what it takes to find those responsible for this devestation are utterly destroyed…" Lucius said solemnly, still watching Aurora.
"Then I will wish for a swift victory…" Narcissa said.
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Staring down the lifeless corpses of their fallen foes, Draco felt no remorse or dwindling in his anger at these necromancers and their abominations against nature.
The spiders and their massive webs were cinders now, and the combined force of Horde, Alliance, Dark Horde, and Argent Dawn were already starting into the next quarter of the citadel, having found a teleporter that took them back to the center.
From the taunting voice that echoed through the halls, their invasion had not gone unnoticed, and that was reflected by the increased focus of their enemies in trying to slay them, but the dead were growing predictable in their maneuvers through the cramped corridors, and the four armies were surprisingly well set to work together, even if they had more than sufficient reason to wish each other harm.
Entering the next chamber, where a river of sickly green slime flowed, hulking creatures sewn together from corpses lumbered and moved, their filth and stink making Draco's nose curl in distaste.
"Patchwerk want to play!" a bellowing, vomit inducing voice said from off to the side. A creature, gargantuan in size, was stalking toward them, chains and cruel looking implements dragging in its wake. The smell was abhorrent, but Draco endured it along with the rest of their massive strike force.
"Not this beast again!" Draco shouted, drawing his wand, the tip crackling with his rage and power.
Nobu'tan was at his side in a flash, emerald Fel fire launching from his hands at the charging creature. Jania Proudmoore also stepped forward, the three magic users buying time for the rest of their force to get into an acceptable formation. Shaw and Varian darted to the left, followed by the Banshee Queen and the Blood Elf regent lord, the ranged and stealthy fighters quickly dealing with the smaller abominations and flanking to the rear of the massive Pathwerk creature.
High Overlord Saurfang took to the front lines, alongside Paladin, Alliance and Horde warrior alike, their weapons at the ready.
Mages, Priests, Paladins, Shaman, and Warlocks kept up their steady bombardment of spells, blasting chunks of rotten flesh from the creature, but altogether failing to halt its charge. The massive abomination crashed into their frontline warriors, and only a handful withstood the tremendous strike. Saurfang spun, his massive axe swinging to counter and lodging heavily into the flesh of the monster.
Arrows, axes and other ranged projectiles flew from the trolls and elves in their company, peppering the creature as he fought with Tirion Fordring and Saurfang, the two powerful fighters taking the lead on confronting and distracting the beast.
A horde of skeletons surged up from the direction that Patchwerk came, trying to reinforce the powerful juggernaut, but Draco spotted it at the same time as Nobu'tan.
The Grand warlock leapt into the air, transforming into his powerful demonic form, and crashed into the midst of the mindless dead with a thunderous blow, shattering stone and sending the skeletons flying in all directions.
The massive creature started to turn, eager to crush every target near it under the massive cleaver in its main hand, but with a deft flick of his wand Draco sent a charm at the undead beast. The massive axe flew from its hand, impacting the wall and lodging itself there, well out of reach and removed from the combat.
Jania followed up his disarming charm with a massive spike of frost, which launched out and impaled the creature, sending it staggering to the side and opening it up for more counter attacks from their ranged and melee fighters.
Those that had snuck around and cut off the other abominations from joining the fray darted in, joining Nobu'tan in clearing the skeletons while the others finished off the massive undead construct. When it finally fell with a gurgling sigh, the way was completely clear for them to proceed.
Lor'themar and Sylvanas scouted ahead, the powerful undead and elven rangers using their keen senses to see what lay ahead, while priests and shaman saw to mending the wounds of those who had been injured in the skirmish.
"I have to admit," Varian said as he returned to where Draco and Jania were standing, "it seems that knowing the strengths of our enemies is working perfectly to our advantage here."
"Yes, when you know what a temporary ally is capable of, you can fill in where they lack, ironically at a point where you'd typically seek to exploit them…" Jania added, although she was looking across the chamber where the Dark Horde leaders were gathered.
Draco was torn, as he belonged in both camps, and more specifically advising Nobu'tan on how best to proceed with this. He wanted to tell the warlock that he ought to allow the others to pull more of the weight, and to not overexert himself so early in their siege of the fortress.
But he had little choice but to remain with the Alliance leaders for the time being, and trust that the others would do what was needed to protect their leader from even his own tendencies. Still, it gave Draco the room to work toward his own revenge. They had yet to find the necromancer that had been behind Pansy's death and transformation into an undead, but once they did, Draco did not want anyone in his way from tearing the old man limb from limb.
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Nobu'tan could feel the eyes on him from the other members of their united assault. Not only were those who were somewhat aware of his origin watching him for any potentially nefarious behavior, but Nobu'tan could tell that Draco was concerned about the amount of energy that the grand warlock was expending on their early conflicts.
The others had voiced their concerns as well, but there was a method to his seeming madness. The quicker he made Kel'Thuzad realize that he was here personally to confront him, he knew that their most powerful enemies would be thrown at them sooner rather than later, which would exhaust the strength of the Black Citadel instead of slowly wear down their attack force before they faced the strongest champions of the Scourge.
Soon enough their entire band was prepared, and the Banshee Queen and her Blood Elf lackey had returned, stating that the way ahead was clogged with massive undead frost giants and other stitched horrors.
Nevertheless, it was needed to stop the undead from sending these constructs down to join the battle below. Nobu'tan was pleased that they were targeting these quickly. The spiders had felt at first like some sort of misstep, but an arcane elemental had appeared afterward, speaking to Lady Proudmoore that the Scourge forces below were thinning, and their Crypt Fiends had disappeared altogether, which had told the besiegers all they needed to know.
The more damage that they did here, the fewer soldiers were available for the Scourge to use on their armies waiting for them to return. Nobu'tan led the company of the Dark Horde as the armies regrouped and pressed onward, navigating around the small rivers of ooze and slime, and into the next chamber.
Towering constructs filled every alcove of the chamber, and some repulsive creature was moving from one to another, injecting the massive undead beings with copious quantities of the green slime. "They're filling their constructs with blight," the Banshee Queen explained, "meaning that when killed, they will spread the deadly pestilence all around them, and raise any dead around them."
"So it would be best for them to die here, and swiftly, than be allowed to set foot on the ground far below…" Nobu'tan surmised, nodding at his fellow warlocks. Fire would be their best ally in this fight, to incinerate the blight and rotting flesh of the creatures.
As one the half dozen warlocks summoned hordes of imps to assist them, the little blighters happily dancing around the feet of their masters and hurling fireballs at any nearby enemies. Setting his sights on the nearest titanic golem, Nobu'tan sent out a wave of Fel fire, igniting the creature and causing it to activate.
The giant hulk lumbered into their midst, but the united front were prepared. Paladins and Horde warriors took the brunt of the sweeping limbs. The spellcasters that did not specialize in fire, those shaman and mages among the other factions, started slowly attracting the attention of the other giants once by one, leading them into the same slaughtering trap that Nobu'tan and his warlocks generated.
Fire spewed liberally from their imps, and from the air above as they generated a literal Fel firestorm around the giant and those that were advancing alongside it. Lady Proudmoore sent a torrent of razor sharp icicles into the seams splitting the burning golems.
With strangle cries the titans crashed to the ground one after another, drawing the attention of more of their ill kind, and littering the ground with the green ooze of their blood. The massive caretaker, tubes and other protrusions littering its massive body turned from the high balcony, seeming to sense as the giants perished, and started swiftly toward the encroaching force.
Quickly their force spread into a wide arc, waiting to receive this new foe. Blood Elf Magister, Theremore Mage and Dark Horde Warlock alike launched fresh spells into the advancing creature, fire and frost comingling into a devastating combination.
Still the creature came charging into the melee fighters, and Nobu'tan grit his teeth. The going was sure to be slow from this point on, but they had to make as much noise as possible to force Kel'Thuzad into paying attention to them.
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Theodore Nott could sense something amiss as he inspected the battlements of Thunder Axe Fortress once more. Their scouts reported that the Horde forces watching them had made no moves to depart or advance, and that made the Black Harvest member all the more paranoid about their presence. What could they possibly be waiting for?
His ranks had already been swollen by the flood of Grimtotem Tauren, who complimented the standing army of Fel Centaur, demons, and orcs that were already manning the fortress. The one problem with the minotaur-like creatures was their stubborn superiority grated on the nerves of all those around them.
But even still, that was not the source of what Theo felt. Something powerful was hiding nearby, and in subtly following the traces of Fel energy, he was led to the caves where the few warlocks he commanded had chosen as their gathering place.
Tyranis Malem and the orc Kohor were within, speaking with something enshrouded in shadows. "What are you both up to?" Nott said, stapped into the darkness of the cavern, only illuminated by a single brazier.
A clawed arm motioned for the other two warlocks to depart, and Theodore was instantly on guard as he recognized the limb's appearance.
"I have been waiting for you, representative of the Dark Horde," the Dreadlord said, stepping forward into the firelight, massive wings folded behind the demonic vampire's body. "I am Lord Banehollow…"
"And why should I even allow you to speak?" Theodore said, allowing shadow magic to flare to life from his hands.
"Because through me I can get you everything you've ever wanted…" the Nathrazim said seductively, "power, strength, and the recognition that you've thus far been denied by Lord Nobu'tan and the others of your Dark Horde…"
"Your race is not capable of being trusted," Theodore said swiftly…
"You don't need to trust me to follow what I am going to advise you to do…" Banehollow said, smirking toothily. "Simply show the resolve to take managing this land into your own hands, and prove that you were the right choice for this place…"
Theodore slowly lowered his hands, "Just that easy?" he scoffed, "I can't even get these new allies to obey simply orders, let alone actually manage them into a fighting force to take out those spying on us."
"You already have the tools to solve that problem," the Dreadlord said, almost sounding bored. "Convince them that they must consume the blood of the Fel, and subjugate them completely…"
"They will not drink voluntarily, they are too proud to become willing slaves…" Theodore started to complain, but the Dreadlord just chuckled sinisterly.
"Since when was it needed to have them drink willingly of the blood of Brutalis…" Banehallow said, tapping his chin thoughtfully with a claw.
Theodore was forced to acknowledge that there was logic in that sentiment. He personally did not know why Nobu'tan worked so hard to make sure that those he offered the power of demons were utterly desperate beforehand. Turning and departing from the cavern, he took out vials of the pure Fel liquid from his robes.
The Grimtotem were camping in their tents around the inner side of the walls, and eating communally to stay away from the other forces that occupied the fortress. It was simple enough to deposit the contents of the vials into the drinking water the bovine-creatures used exclusively.
All that was needed afterward was to wait until the next large meal that the Grimtotem shared without the rest of their forces, and to be on hand when that occurred.
Evening came quickly, and soon enough the black-colored Minotaur gathered at their central fires, roasting meat gathered from the sparse animals that wandered the wastes, as well as supplies that they had with them. Water was more difficult, and Theodore knew that they had no choice but to take from the supply he had tampered with.
Only several minutes into their meal, Theodore heard the telltale shrieks of the changing creatures. Taking his time to journey to the Tauren camp, Theodore withheld the smile at the sight that greeted him.
The hair of the massive creatures was changed from the pitch black to Fel-touched green, and their horns had elongated into deadly weapons. "What has happened?" Theodore asked, feigning confusion and innocence. The chief tauren turned to him, maddening rage in their now red eyes as they sought to unleash the violence pounding through their bodies upon whatever they could find.
They charged at Theodore, but the warlock raised a single hand, chanting the spell that enslaved demons and their kind. "What have you done to us, traitor?!" one shouted, even as the entire tribe was forced to their knees at a thought from Theodore.
"I have given you a gift…" he said, smirking in return at the mixture of horror and rage on their faces, "the power and strength to stand side by side with the Dark Horde in equality, and destroy the enemies that would hinder us all from our goals."
They did not seem impressed at Theodore's declaration, but the warlock did not care. They were perfectly in his power, and they would obey or suffer. "You all will obey me, and we will prepare to march on Thunder Bluff, Orgrimmar, and wherever else those who will not bow to my master gather!" he said.
Summoning a messenger, Theodore ordered for the commander over the fortress to prepare their forces. "I will not have our territory spied upon any longer! We will clear out these spies and make the Horde pay for the affront to our power."
Turning sharply from those gathered, Theodore returned quickly to the cave where Banehollow waited, the demon smirking as Theodore joined him, Tyranis Malem and Kohor in the innermost part of the cavern. "Everything you have told me worked thoroughly to my desires," Theodore announced to the Dreadlord, who nodded.
"As I predicted…" the demon said, "and so I can offer this and many more successes to you, if you will but accept my offer."
The Nathrezim seemed to swell up in the pride of his skill, even as he pronounced his bargain, "Swear to me by your very life, and these witnesses by their heads, by everything you love and hold dear, that if you tell another soul of the source of your new strength and skill you will surely die. And I will do whatsoever you command, and deliver all your enemies into your hands in exchange."
"I swear it," both the elf and orc said, kneeling before Banehollow. They paused, turning slightly to watch Theodore for his reaction.
"I accept your terms, demon, and pledge myself to your secrets." Theodore said, joining the circle created by the four different beings.
"Truly you are Mahan… the master of this great secret I am to share with you," Banehollow said, relishing the sway he thought he now had over Theodore. "I name you afresh, and you shall become Master Mahan, and all that you desire shall be yours!"
"I have already set our new forces against those spying on us, so that we can operate freely and plan for the future," Master Mahan stated, rising and spreading his arms wide, glorying in the steps he had already taken of his own.
"You are wise, Master Mahan," Kohor said, even as he and the elf stood as well, "but eliminating just the spies will only do so much. It would be needed for us to push forward and force the Horde to reconsider coming near our lands altogether."
Mahan smirked, "which is why we will push onward and take the fight to the Horde at Thunder Bluff."
"Good…" Banehollow said, "soon you will rise above all your peers in the Dark Horde, Mahan. And from that position you will have opportunity to take command of the entire Dark Horde for yourself."
The newly name warlock liked the sound of that proposal. He could lead the Dark Horde, and take up the causes that Nobu'tan seemed to ignore in favor of his personal crusade, or worse some foolish attempt to maneuver around their enemies when they should have crushed them long ago.
"We have much work to do," Master Mahan said, turning to his two witnesses, those who knew of the great secret, "and little time in which to do so."
"We will proceed with haste, Master Mahan," Tyranis said, and the three warlocks departed. Theodore mentally prepared himself for the struggle that was to come. Banehollow thought him wrapped around a claw at this, but he would learn that Master Mahan was not to be trusted by anyone. The demon would fall soon, once he was no longer useful to them.
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Kel'Thuzad would have frowned as the shade told him of the progress his former apprentice had made if he was still capable of facial expressions. It was disappointing that so much damage had to be permitted before the Lich Lord could put this rabble down, and at last claim Banu once again.
Magnifying his voice as Thaddius was destroyed, and the Construct Quarter hindered from creating more abominations to supply the battle below, Kel'Thuzad voiced his displeasure, "Fools, you think yourselves triumphant? You have only taken one step closer to the abyss!"
Through the man invisible servants throughout the Dread Citadel, the Lich was able to monitor their movement, and knew that they would be heading to the Plague Quarter next, where the Blight was manufactured. If they were successful there, it would be impossible for Naxxramus to continue the battle below even if they destroyed the attacking force inside.
It had seemed something impossible to occur, but somehow the Dark Horde, led by his former apprentice, had merged their army with that of the Horde and Alliance, all rallying behind the forces of the Argent Dawn. The fact that those fools that had followed the Paladins had survived the slaughter of the Lich King was irritating, but couldn't be helped at this point.
Sending out the shade to continue its work, the Lich Lord cast his instructions out the remaining Scourge forces within Naxxramus, allowing them to unleash their savagery and full power. Let the fools try to destroy them; there was no hope in these halls. Even if they managed to defeat Kel'Thuzad, the Lich King would just raise him once again, more powerful and terrible than before.
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Thrall was troubled out of his sleep by the appearance of a pair of Kor'kron.
"Warchief," one said quickly, "the Champion of the Horde has come, and needs to speak with you urgently."
Thrall furrowed his brow. What could Rexxar have needed to come personally about, when he could have sent a messanger and maintained his vigil over Desolace… unless…
Thrall bolted up out of his bed. Clad in only linen clothing, he followed the elite guard and found the massive hunter waiting in the front room of Thrall's personal quarters. "Warchief," Rexxar said, dipping his head respectfully, even as the massive bear Misha grunted at the Mok'Nathal's side.
"What has happened?" Thrall said, approaching swiftly.
"The Dark Horde rose up and attacked out position," the Champion of the Horde reported, "They had Fel infused Tauren among them, and pressed well into Stonetalon before I fully escaped. I do not know how many of our forces survived."
"I feared that something like this would happen…" Thrall admitted, pausing to offer a small prayer to the elements for the dead.
"I believe from their route that they were marched toward Thunder Bluff and Mulgore," Rexxar added, "I came with all haste to report this to the High Chieftain, and took one of the goblin's zeppelins to make it here swiftly."
That meant something, Thrall registered. Rexxar had no love for the goblin technology, or flight for that matter, and for him to consider it nessesary it was a matter of direst urgency. "And with the majority of our forces aiding Saurfang and Sylvanas in defeating the Scourge across the sea… there is little that we can muster to send to Cairne's aid."
"I will lead whatever you can send back to Mulgore," Rexxar said solemnly, "these demon worshipers must not be allowed to spread their corruption any farther than they already have."
Thrall nodded, "I will join you." He said, rising to his full height. "the Tauren will not be alone in this fight. The Horde will stand by its allies."
Turning to the nearest Kor'kron, Thrall added, "muster whatever adventurers, warriors, and wyvern riders still remain in Orgrimmar, we must reach Thunder Bluff as quickly as possible."
Turning back to Rexxar, Thrall added, "It is time that you take up your mantle as chieftain of the Stonemaul once again, my friend."
Rexxar nodded his understanding, "We will meet you in Mulgore, Warchief." He said, rising and turning toward the door.
"Sprits guide you, and may the wind sent you quickly, son of Draenor." Thrall said, before returing to his chamber, and facing the stand that held the black armor of Orgrim Doomhammer. "Cairne, I will not fail you." Thrall said, as he strapped the breastplate and pauldrons to his body, taking up the massive Doomhammer and feeling the crackle of the elements run through the weapon.
Storming from his house minutes later, Thrall found a large gathering of Horde adventurers already gathered, waiting expectantly for their Warchief's command. "War has come to Kalimdor!" Thrall cried, making sure every single one of them could hear him clearly, "the Dark Horde, ever sinister in their perversion of nature, have allied with rogue elements of the Grimtotem Tauren, and march on Thunder Bluff! We will not leave the Tauren defenseless!"
The adventuers roared passionately at their warchief's words, but none could overcome the baying cried of outrage by the Bloofhoof members of their company. "All make their way to the plains of Mulgore!" Thrall commanded, "I will fly there presently, and consult with the leaders of the Tauren how best to defend their lands from this rampaging demon-inspired throng!"
Horns blew, signaling the adventurers to turn and sprint for the various means to reach the Tauren lands. Many would depart the city and head for the zeppelin towers. The goblins there would gladly change the route of their ships for gold. Others went to the highest parts of Orgrimmar to seek out the wind rider masters, and take the mighty wyverns over the Barrens.
Still more surged out of the gates of Orgrimmar, wolves, raptors and mighty kudos thundering as they sprinted as fast as their riders demanded. Skilled mages also tore open portal after portal to the far lands, and soldiers and adventurers alike dove through them, instantly traveling the long distance. Thrall took one of these portals himself, the Darkspear Troll looking smug and proud that his portal was the one the Warchief selected to use.
Exiting in the center plateau of the Tauren city, Thrall could tell instantly that the peaceful Bloofhoofs were on high alert. Bluffwatchers were doubled in their usual numbers, and the added forces from Orgrimmar were already being incorporated into watching the surrounding lands for the first signs of enemy arrival.
Thrall turned and quickly made his way to the rear of the main mesa, toward the Elder's Rise, and the location of the High Chief's lodge. Carine was there, already arranging his warriors to watch the several elevators that allowed access to the strongly defended bluffs.
"Hail Warchief," the old Tauren said as Thrall approached, "we are pleased that you've come!"
"And I have not come alone," Thrall affirmed, "You have the full might of the Horde behind your defenses, old friend."
The old Tauren nodded, "Their might will be most appreciated." Pointing to a large map of Mulgore before him, Carine continued, "We know the one location that the Dark Horde can enter the valley, but it is treacherous and narrow to hold defensively. I would think it better to defend ourselves from them here in Thunder Bluff, and once they are fleeing, we will push them back through the pass and take full control of it ourselves."
Thrall thought the plan was sound. They would be able to see their enemy approach long before the battle started, and they were in the perfect defensive position. "What of Magatha, and the rest of the Grimtotem?" Thrall asked quietly, making sure that only the High Chieftain could hear his words.
"There have been no visitors to the Crone for some time," Cairne reported, "and I doubt very much anymore of her people will aid the Dark Horde, as they are proud, and to embrace the Fel is highly out of their character."
"So there will be little chance of treachery in this coming battle," Thrall surmised. "Good… windriders and more adventurers will be arriving over time, as well as zeppelins carrying large numbers of warrior to support us."
"I pray to the Earthmother that they come swiftly, as there may be little left before the Dark Horde carve their path through the mountains." The High Chieftain said, turning to look toward Stonetalon. Thrall looked as well, spotting the plumes of smoke rising over the ridge that surrounded the peaceful valley.
"They are nearer than even I suspected," Thrall said, and the old Tauren turned back.
"We had better see to our defenses, and make sure that the warriors know what is expected of them." He said, taking up the runespear, the legendary weapon of the Bloodhoof, and started toward the main public area of the center plateau.
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Garona couldn't have felt better leaving Theramore than anything else. With the Sorceress away helping to protect the world, the old servant had done nothing to stop the half-orc assassin from departing if she so wished.
In fact, the only one that had arguably been against Garona leaving was her son. Med'an was desperate to know of his orcish heritage, and while she had tried to remain aloof of the boy's probing questions, her instincts as the child's mother inevitable broke her, and she told him much of where they had come from, and the horrors that had caused Garona to leave the boy with caretakers rather than try to raise him herself.
There was anger and some tears, but in the end Garona was certain that Med'an understood that she had not wanted to risk him with any specters that might be drudged up by her past. Even with all her precautions, the madness with Cho'gall and the Twilight cult still occurred. Despite her typically cold and calculated outlook on the world, she was worried over the safety of her son, even leaving him in the fortress city of Theramore.
But Lady Proudmoore had insisted and took it upon herself to instruct Med'an in the arcane arts, after it was discovered that the boy was immensely powerful with magic. Garona had no doubts as to the reason, with the boy's father having been the Last Guardian.
But she was restless, and it felt unsafe for her to remain too long in any one place. She had to keep moving, just to keep ahead of anyone that might be seeking her out. Unlike before however, she had a destination in mind. Lord Nobu'tan had reformed the old Horde, and took up the mantle of the Chieftain of the Stormreaver Clan. While tying herself once more back to the Horde was something she was hesitant in doing, Nobu'tan was the next closest thing to a family member that Garona had outside her son.
She would scout out their citadel in Blackrock Mountain, and see if anything had truly changed in the destructive nature of the now Dark Horde, and if she found it to her liking, she would offer her services to Nobu'tan directly. It would also be a good thing for Med'an to be among his own people perhaps, she thought absently as he exited the Duskwallow Marshes.
She did not trust the Alliance ships, nor the Horde zeppelins to carry her safely back to the Eastern Kingdoms, which left one option. On the western side of the barrens, just south of Durotar, the goblins of ratchet maintained a ship that shuttled those with the gold to Booty Bay, at the southern tip of the Eastern Kingdoms.
Garona's horse would be well kept at the stables there, and she had a reputation with Gazlowe, the goblin leader of Ratchet and a frequent client of Garonas for this or that objective. Typical she would be stealing from or eliminating certain Bloodsail captains as they grew bold against the goblin coalition, but there had been other things that he would not want to threaten her revealing to anyone.
Riding into the odd and cramped village on the coast, Garona dodged around the hosts of Horde and Alliance adventurers that were doing business with the goblins, or else waiting for the ship to depart from the port.
Approaching the nearest goblin, Garona dismounted and offered the little green creature the reins, "Tell Gazlowe that I am taking a ride over to Booty Bay…" she said, glaring at the small creature as it recognized the skilled assassin.
"As you wish, Halforcen…" he said, perturbed at her attention, yet smart enough to not ask any questions of her about her business. Pulling the hood of her cloak up around her head, Garona stealthily moved through the crowd of multiracial figures toward the port, darting between gaps that even gnomes would find difficult to squeeze through.
The hobgoblin mooks that were shepherding adventurers in an orderly fashion widened their eyes as Garona approached, and did nothing to stop her boarding the ship. Some of the adventurers complained as she cut ahead of them up the gangplank, but there was little they could do, and Garona stole beneath deck and burst into the captain's quarters.
The goblin took one surly look at her, demands and threats on the tip of his tongue, before Garona threw back her hood and drew one of her knives. The goblin froze, stalling any attempt to remove her from the room, and returned to his business.
"We will be departing within the hour," the captain said minutes later, as he gathered a stack of papers and stood from his seat, "make yourself comfortable, I suppose…"
Garona had already done so, and refused to move from the seat she had taken at a small side table as the goblin departed. It was significantly sooner than Garona expected when the ship started to move our beneath her. The captain never returned, and Garona was certain that she would not see him again for the rest of the journey.
The noise of the adventurers out on the deck above easily flooded through to the private cabin, but Garona had no desire for sleep. She was too busy planning how she would cross the treacherous land between Stranglethorn Vale and the Burning Steppes.
Not only did it cross dangerously near Stormwind itself, and through many other Alliance towns and forts, she was somewhat aware that other routes would draw near to lesser Dark Horde bases, where Garona couldn't trust that she would get a chance to speak with Nobu'tan at all.
She had little choice about crossing upward into Duskwood, but rather than continue the direct route up through the Redridge Mountains, she would divert through the Deadwind Pass and up the back route at the far end of the Swamps of Sorrows.
She knew that that region might be monitored by either the Alliance or the Dark Horde, but she was more confident stealthing through the narrow pass than trying to get through the heavily guarded Alliance holdings in and around Lakeshire.
She finalized the planned route, as well as a plethora of alternatives if conditions changed and prevented her from any number of the legs of her route, even as the partying above started to die down. The adventurers were probably starting to pass out from the amount of alcohol that they consumed, provided at cost by the goblins, and started to sleep.
Garona propped herself upright in her chair, and allowed the weariness of her journey start to overcome her. She never allowed her hands to stay from her weapons when she slept, as there had been numbers of times she had had to leap into action moments after being roused from sleep. She slept the rest of the journey, and mercifully was not disturbed until the ship finally pulled into port at Booty Bay. Garona was the first passenger to depart the ship, and made her way quickly to a secured location where a wolf mount was kept for her use. She sped out toward the north, her mind refreshed and focused on exactly where she needed to go.