Chapter 106
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"So, we are in agreement that the Bleeding Hollow clan does not desire to be part of this 'Fel Horde' any longer?" Nobu'tan asked, looked between the red-skinned orcs he was conversing with.
Both Warlord Morkh and Grillok Darkeye, the joint leaders of the Clan here in Outland, nodded in agreement.
"If even the smallest part of what you say is true," Morkh said, "then we stand no chance resisting with just the allies we have at the Citadel. For the survival of our clan, we must join with your Dark Horde."
"Are there any chances of this Illidan retaliating from Shadowmoon Valley?" Nobu'tan asked.
He had learned much about the internal politics of the remaining factions, clans, and peoples that remained on Outland since the time of the Portal's destruction. Some Night Elf, Illidan Stormrage, had come and toppled the Pit Lord leader of Outland, claiming his fortress in the southern part of the floating continent, and fought a vicious battle between his combined forces and the Legion. Additionally, both factions fought with the remaining survivors of Shattrath City, which was a combination of Draenei, the other denizens of this world from ages past, Blood Elves that had abandoned Illidan, as well as the Alliance forces that had been stranded here after the Second War.
The orc clans had been gathered, one by one, and pressed into the service of Illidan, forming a new Horde around the Chieftain of the Shattered Hand Clan, Kargath Bladefist. The majority of the orc clans were here in Hellfire, or else scattered through the Shadowmoon Valley, defending the Black Temple where Illidan ruled.
If Nobu'tan was to make any headway in undermining the power of this demonic Night Elf, he would have to merge as much of the Fel Horde into his own forces as he could persuade, or conquer, and use them against their former master with extreme prejudice.
"Not easily," Grillok replied, "there are many forces pressing on the Black Temple that he would have to fight through to reach us at this point, but the greater threat is Kargath at the Hellfire Citadel."
"Will it be possible to recall your clan from the Citadel, or else use them to weaken the remaining clans there?" Nobu'tan pressed further.
"It would be noticed if the former, but the latter is significantly more possible. We could use them to try and recruit, or else assassinate those who'd stand in our way for taking the Citadel for our own." Morkh said with a fanged grin.
Yes, Nobu'tan knew that the Fel Orc fancied himself the replacement for Kargath as leader of a new faction of the Fel Horde, but there would be time enough to cross that bridge later.
"What other clans will we be facing, and the possibility of getting them on our side?" Nobu'tan asked, feeling as though it was soon time to focus on action rather than planning, but this final question would give him what he needed to know.
"Primarily Shattered Hand," Warlord Morkh said, "and they are steadfastly loyal to Kargath, you'll have no chance converting any of them. But the Bonechewers are another matter. They are kept primarily out of the citadel, and I feel as though they resent that fact. If you can make contact with their leader, Tagar Spinebreaker, you might have a chance to negotiate with them."
"Could you invite them here for a meeting?" Nobu'tan suggested, and Grillok leaned forward.
"A meeting between clans wouldn't be of notice for Kargath, and it is possible for Tagar to be persuaded by good food and a chance to rest…"
"Make it happen," Nobu'tan ordered, standing, "In the meantime, I will bring some of the Stormreavers and our other clans here to fortify your base and see to needed repairs and upgrades to our outpost in Outland."
"What sort of reinforcements?" Morkh said cautiously. Nobu'tan respected the hesitation, but there was nothing for the Fel Orc to worry about.
"Close allies of mine, and those loyal to the Dark Horde," he explained, starting for the exit, "try not to attack them on sight. Much has changed and it is not only orcs that reside in the Horde anymore… either of them…"
The pair of Fel Orcs followed quickly as Nobu'tan took the Staff of Aetish and went to the center of the encampment. Swinging the guardian's staff wide, a Nether portal was ripped open back to Blackrock, where Nobu'tan had ordered his forces to return and await his signal.
A perfect representation of the Dark Horde's forces was ready and waiting. Representatives from all the major clans moved through to the red world. Blackrock and Dragonmaw orcs, Amani trolls, Balefire ogres, and the ragtag races that now formed the Stormreavers looked about at the Bleeding Hollow Fel Orcs with curiosity on both sides.
"The Bleeding Hollow Fel Orcs have joined us," Nobu'tan announced, and the others relaxed, "Welcome to Zeth'gor, the Dark Horde's first stronghold in Outland."
Urnar, a goblin of earth that had embraced the power of the Fel, looked about with a critical eye, "This ruin will need many resources to restore it to full functionality," he said.
"I place you in charge of seeing to the standardization of this fortification," Nobu'tan said, and the goblin smirked, showing his teeth at the notion of control.
Aisha Feltalon came forward, the Fel Veela looking toward the sky, "the air is strange here," she commented, "much of this world is devoid of life…"
"Take your sisters to the air," Nobu'tan ordered, "explore this region and those others round about, and return to us for report. I want to know everything of importance that surrounds this land, and what we may need to deal with to be more secure."
Aisha nodded, and those Veela transformed to their bird-forms, screeching as they leapt into the air and scattered in all directions. The Fel Orcs flinched back at the sudden display, clearly surprised at the power of the Stormreaver's allies.
"What would you have of us, Lord?" Edgran said, stomping a fiery hoof.
"Wait for Feltalon to return, and we will decide what needs a closer look, or to be eliminated," Nobu'tan instructed, also nodding at Teg'Ramm and his ogres. The powerhouses of the Dark Horde would be needed to prevent violence if the Bonechewers thought that an alliance between them was not to their favor.
"A messenger has been sent out to find the Bonechewers," Grillok informed him, as though reading Nobu'tan's thoughts.
Glancing at the contingent of goblins, who were surveying the wear on the fortress around them, Nobu'tan nodded, "Then we have nothing to do as of yet but wait."
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Lucius sat restlessly in Stromgarde Keep. He would much have preferred to be at his wife's side, looking over the bundle of their mutual joy.
He had a wizarding photograph of his new daughter, taken by Lady Parkinson for him, but the small picture did little to fill the void that distance and lack of connection to his daughter made for the Pureblood wizard.
But the duty of protecting their lands never ended, and while Draco was taking care of things at Stormwind, and recovering from the battles with the undead, Lucius would fill the vacancy of leadership in Arathi.
The Dark Horde members, especially the orcs, were still very uncertain around Lucius, but he chalked up their uneasiness to a combination of the clear aura of danger that he was capable of exuding when irritated, as well as the fact that they still had no known name to refer to him by. Lucius had little desire to remedy that for his own sake. Having no name to call him meant that the mystery and fear around angering him remained high, and that influenced the level of efficiency that happened when he was in charge.
"My Lord," an orc said, standing in the doorway to the main chamber of the keep.
"Yes," Lucius said, turning to see that the orc was escorting others into the room.
"Emissaries from the Argent Dawn have arrived," the grunt said respectfully, gesturing at the human and dwarven paladins that were with him, "they wish passage through to Blackrock to fulfill their leader's bargain with Lord Nobu'tan."
Lucius was well aware of the bargain in question, and he smiled as the emissaries from the neutral paladin faction approached. "You are most welcome among the Dark Horde," he said, shaking the hand of each and gesturing for them to sit.
"It is indeed a strange set of times we live in, but we thank you for the warm reception," the human said, with the dwarf nodding in agreement.
"I have to agree," Lucius said calmly, even as refreshment arrived for the clearly tired travelers, "While I have no desire to hold you longer than needed from your destination, I feel the need to make sure you are fully committed to this act that your leader pledged to mine."
"We are more than willing to teach anyone the ways of the Light, regardless of race or faction. Any who fight for the survival of Azeroth are worthy of the Light's grace." The paladins affirmed. And Lucius was willing enough to believe them; nevertheless, he had actually delayed them for a far different purpose.
Not only was a private portal to the mountain being prepared for them, so that no outsiders knew the layout of the fortresses that the Dark Horde operated from, but watchers were notified of their imminent arrival and to keep a close eye on the paladins as they moved through the Burning Steppes.
Nobu'tan may have trusted these servants of the Light, but Lucius had far more experience in the matter of dealing with those who embraced the concept of light over that of darkness. Albus Dumbledore was by far the largest example he could think of, and the man was about as light as they came, yet there was no friendship to be had between those who wielded opposing powers.
"I believe transportation is ready," Lucius said, spotting the small signal one of the grunts gave him over the paladins' shoulders, "If you would follow me."
Lucius led the pair to an antechamber, where several warlocks held the gateway to the front of the mountain fortress open. "There will be others waiting to direct you to your candidates. I wish you well, paladins of the Argent Dawn."
"And we thank you for your hospitality," they replied, stepping through to Blackrock and out of Lucius' view.
Still, he narrowed his eyes as the portal closed. Something did not feel right about how eagerly the paladins had agreed to provide their skills to the Dark Horde without some manner of compensation.
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The Prophet Velen frowned as he listened to the messenger from the Eastern Kingdoms.
The battle had been won, and the unified forces of Azeroth had pushed back into the reaches of Outland, but there was something more. Velen had foreseen the two mighty armies of the world, the Horde and the Alliance, but for there to be a third was something he had not expected.
This Dark Horde was not of Azeroth, and the fact that they had the strangest combination of races among their number disturbed the Draenei Prophet more than anything.
The fact that their leader was both human and a powerful warlock were a deadly combination, but that he too was transforming into a Fel-abomination was something that Velen feared greatly.
The same had occurred on Argus many thousands of years ago, as the Eredar eventually bowed to the will of Sargaras. Whether this human understood what was transpiring or not, it was a danger for all of Azeroth for him to have such power over their world, and clearly a magnet to the Legion and their machinations.
It may be possible in the future that the Draenei might have to go to war against this force, in order to preserve the natural order of Velen's visions. If they did not proceed as expected, then the Legion's downfall may not occur altogether.
Until the need became clear however, the ancient leader of the Draenei was not willing to enter into aggressive motions yet. He would wish to speak with the Dark Horde personally, but with faction lines being what they were, he was available to only speak with the Alliance.
And there he would begin. The Sorceress of Theramore and the King of Stormwind both seemed to be closest in understanding the Dark Horde and their leaders, and would be good enough of a place to begin.
Arranging transportation to the Capital of Stormwind was not an easy feat from this far, but Velen would urge on the means to come about as swiftly as possible, so that he could ease his worries and perhaps see into the new and changed future from what he had foreseen so many years ago.
The ships from Darnassus that traveled across the world were slow and not nearly as efficient as what he had hoped, but in due time Velen expected to see the grandness of the human city on the horizon, and his vindicators would be there in case of anything unexpected occurring.
But there was something else nagging him as they neared the Eastern Kingdoms. There was a powerful pair of pinpricks of light emerging from the horizon. Two individuals that shone so brightly and Velen found himself filled with hope amidst his fear and dread.
He wanted to see these beacons of the Light's majesty, and know for himself what the potential he felt in the human city was.
What he did not expect when they pulled into the shipyards of Stormwind was to find a city in celebration. Here, on the eve of war with the Legion, there were great rejoicings and joy through the streets, and the common people were quite oblivious to his passage through their midst as Velen and his vindicators approached the Keep of Stormwind.
The human guards seemed more than mystified as the Draenei passed them by, entering the Keep without even so much as asking directions. Velen could sense the presences of those he sought within, and knew the directions to take to arrive at the private quarters in the rear of the Citadel where King Varian apparently was hosting a small party.
"My apologies," he said as the five Draenei entered the smaller chamber, "It was not my intention to intrude upon a private celebration…"
Glancing around the room as he announced their presence, Velen could tell that the gathering was for the young Prince of Stormwind. The lad must have lived another year with no lasting injury, which for mortals was something significant. In attendance were both the King and Jaina Proudmoore, as well as some other humans.
Reaching into his robes for a suitable gift for the occasion, Velen closed his hand around a small light crystal, which did little other than banish the darkness of night when warmed by the touch of a living creature. Offering the trinket to the Prince, Velen smiled apologetically, "Many happy returns for you, young one," he said, even as the Prince gingerly took the crystal, and smiled as it lit up brightly in his hands.
There was something… different, in the boy's eyes. With a small jolt of realization, Velen knew that before him stood one of the twin points of light he had foreseen from the sea. Young Anduin Wrynn would be extremely important in the overarching stream of the future he had foreseen.
"You're the Prophet Velen, leader of the Draenei," Anduin said wisely, "Thank you for the surprise visit on my birthday."
"You are most welcome," Velen said gently, "Although I must admit we were woefully unaware of the festivities. There were other reasons for our coming, and I need to speak with both Lady Proudmoore and King Varian."
"There'll be time for that later, I suspect," Varian Wrynn said, "for the time being I am going to be with my son, celebrating his birthday."
Velen understood the sentiment, and could wait until their festivities were concluded. Lady Proudmoore smiled sadly in their direction, silently agreeing with the King's decree, and the Prophet respect their wishes.
The Draenei made to depart the room, but Velen paused at the door. The cooing of a small child caught his attention, and he turned toward the other woman in the room, sitting on a small couch and cradling a baby girl in her arms.
The child positively glowed with power and potential in the prophet's eyes.
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Narcissa was surprised to find that the strange Draenei representatives did not immediately leave. If anything, the older-seeming one had paused and was watching her and Aurora closely.
"My dear," the Draenei said, approaching, "I do not mean to intrude, but the Light shines brightly from your daughter's eyes."
Narcissa smiled, it was something she had heard many times before from the other priests and paladins in Stormwind. What was different was that little Aurora didn't fuss as much in comparison to when the Draenei approached.
For a brief moment, Narcissa thought that her daughter might have been frightened by the strange-looking creature that the Draenei appeared to be, but the little girl, still approaching a year old, was fighting to sit up on her own and look up at the alabaster-skinned creature with wide eyes.
To Narcissa surprise, Aurora succeeded, and her tiny hands seized the long fingers of the elderly Draenei, much to the pair's delight.
"Oh my, you are indeed a strong one," the creature said kindly, before pausing, shimmering eyes seeming to unfocus as his mind drifted away.
A moment later, he returned to the present, and withdrew his fingers, "I apologize, sometimes the Light directs my mind elsewhere. I will leave you to your celebration, and await his Majesty and Lady Proudmoore when they are available."
The Draenei excused himself afterward, leaving the room oddly silent. Slowly they returned to their conversations. Narcissa watched Aurora for a few moments longer, watching the glimmering eyes of her daughter as the girl cooed and giggled at the slighted thing.
All those of the human Church of the Light had said the same thing concerning her daughter. From Nobu'tan, Narcissa understood that their people had unusual properties in comparison to those humans of Azeroth. Their magical cores gave them flexibility and strength in the magic of this world.
Aurora was the first of the newest generation born to wizard-kind in this world, and both she and Lucius had been warned that many would be after her to magnify their own power in the world. Nobu'tan refused, therefore, to use the Fel in Aurora's presence, in order to preserve her innocence and give her the freedom of choice the young man was himself denied.
Narcissa had little desire to coddle Aurora any more or less than she had Draco back on earth, but she couldn't help but feel a touch of fear as to what implications there were regarding her daughter. If those of the lighter sides of magic were so very much interested in her, could those with significantly more ill intent be plotting to take her from Narcissa? Even now?"
Unconsciously, she started to clutch Aurora closer to herself, but forced her arms to stop. Narcissa was overreacting to nonexistent threats. There wasn't any logical reason to start being overprotective of Aurora until a clearer idea of what threats might be out there for them appear.
True, she knew that there were general dangers, up to and including the dead that had invaded the very city in which they lived, but Narcissa refused to allow herself to spiral into the manic concept of looking over her shoulder every few minutes and hovering dangerously over her daughter.
Anduin approached, and drew Narcissa from her dark thoughts. The twelve-year-old prince was starting to approach manhood, and as such was still as cherubic as ever. His presence calmed Narcissa, even as he leaned over Aurora and started to play with the infant's hands.
Narcissa understood that they would be safe here, so long as they remained open and honest with the royalty of Stormwind and the leadership of the Alliance. Lucius may have his ties to the Dark Horde, and Nobu'tan was someone dearly held in their family, but Narcissa was solidly on the side of these peace-loving people that they had met on Azeroth.
She held strongly to the idea that there could be peace on this world between the factions, much like Lady Proudmoore, but she knew that there had to be a fundamental shift in the minds of every individual on the planet. A lifetime goal to strive for, but Narcissa, watching the young prince of Stormwind and her own daughter, felt that it was closer to their grasp than not.
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Nobu'tan was pleased by the efficiency of his people in retrofitting the dilapidated fortification of the Bleeding Hollow Clan into something passable for the Dark Horde. The wooden walls had been reinforced with stone and iron, thickening them and adding a fortified parapet that guards would be able to watch the surrounding lands from.
The towers had been repaired, and were quickly being added to, strengthening the supports and widening the platform to permit larger weaponry to sit atop them. Nobu'tan had a feeling that enchanted Ballista would end up being chosen for the towers, while saving their powerful trebuchets for the Great Hall, once it was embellished with additional floors and opening it to become more imposing and defensible.
Most of the small buildings had been torn down, with plans for newer and larger structures to replace them. There were several other projects being worked out by the goblins, but Nobu'tan wasn't as concerned about the details of other things as the group of Bonechewer Clan representatives approached the fortress.
Nobu'tan waited alongside Warlord Morkh and Grillok in front of the Great Hall as the wolf riding Fel Orcs approached.
The leader of the clan looked about; equal parts curious as well as disdainful. "I see you've managed to start some improvements on this dump of a fortress…" the orc said, glaring at both Bleeding Hollow Fel Orcs.
"That would be my doing," Nobu'tan said, smirking as the Fel Orc finally glanced at him.
"What is this?" the Bonechewer leader snarled, leaping off his wolf, and clearly resisting the urge to draw his weapons as well from what Nobu'tan could see, "Some manner of prisoner Darkeye?"
"Better," Nobu'tan replied, smiling widely, "A way out of a particularly bad situation…"
"Tagar Spinebreaker, meet Chieftain Nobu'tan of the Stormreaver Clan…" Warlord Morkh said, seeming rather irritated to be relegated to less than the center of attention.
"This must be some type of joke. This runt of a human cannot be a clan chieftain." Spinebreaker complained, and Nobu'tan sighed.
"You'd think for once," Nobu'tan said, unleashing the full force of the Fel and spreading his wings wide, "That eventually one Orc chieftain I encounter will just accept the possibility, and not make me do things like this."
The Fel Orcs recoiled as the power wafted from Nobu'tan's body in waves, "Impossible!" Spinebreaker shouted.
"Now you understand," Nobu'tan said, "I represent freedom from the control of the Fel Horde and your current masters, and real choice for the future of your clan."
Despite the fear, Spinebreaker seemed to come back to his senses, "Why would we let go of one terrible master for the possibility of another?" he challenged, which caught Nobu'tan off guard.
He laughed, "True, it may seem somewhat off, and there will be things I need from you and your clan. But I can make some interesting promises that have little in the way of costs to you or your clan." Nobu'tan admitted.
The Fel Orc seemed to mull that over, "Tell me more…" the orc said.
"Come inside and let us speak of this in a civilized manner," Nobu'tan offered, gesturing to the Great Hall, "You mounts will be protected here, and your guards' needs will be seen to."
Spinebreaker seemed suspicious, but glancing at the pair of Bleeding Hollow orcs, he could find no reason to distrust the invitation.
Nobu'tan led the way inside, wings folding behind him and a fanged grin on his face. The second stage of his plan would begin soon.
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Voldemort smirked up at the tower of Karazhan. His followers were finally ready. While Nobu'tan had taken the staff with him as he dealt with the fallout of the Dark Portal opening, he had taken a small amount of time to come here and unlock the main gates of the tower, charging Voldemort to take his new Dark Horde Clan: the Blightbringers, in securing the tower for their use.
Voldemort had been somewhat amused when the living necrolytes, warriors, and other members of the Dark Horde which had joined him had vouched for the name of his weapon to be their unified name and title. The slowly growing ranks of Death Knights did not care one way or another, but the idea of being a singular force loyal to Voldemort appeased the former Dark Lord to no end.
They had established a base camp in the valley before the tower, ousting and slaughtering all those that lived there, including a small clan of ogres. Their corpses would prove useful in spearheading the way into the tower, along with the many bound spirits that lurked around the devastated village at the base of the massive structure.
"Now is the hour of our ascent!" Voldemort said before the entirety of his clan, even as the approached the unlocked portcullis of the dark tower. "This bastion of magical power will be our fortress, and the focal point of our power within the Dark Horde. Send forth the minions!" he commanded, and the lumbering husks of their victims surged forward, wrenching upward the portcullis and opening the massive door beyond it.
"Forward…" Voldemort commanded, and his clan surged for the gate, those still among the living crying out in the eagerness to prove themselves to their chieftain. Voldemort was the first of the Death Knights to enter, and gazed around at the entryway of the tower.
There seemed to be multiple directions they could go to ascend the tower, either through the side door to their right, into what seemed to be some manner of servant quarters. Or they could proceed forward and to the left, where an indoor stable was set into the base of the tower. Finally they could ascend the stairs to the main floor of the tower.
Feeling that it wouldn't be wise to allow anything to circle around them from behind once they started clearing the tower of whatever had been festering inside, Voldemort gestured for some of his followers to go to the right, another faction to hold the stairs, and he himself taking the left into the stables with another third of his forces.
While he had not expected to find many among the living within this tower, the sheer number of undead that still haunted the place of their lives was staggering. He had thought that Hogwarts was ghost infested while he had dwelled there, but this tower had the old castle beaten by a long shot.
Caretakers, horses, guards, even blacksmiths and their apprentices were still milling about, reenacting their duties and mannerisms in life as they looped through their grisly falsehood of living.
They were aware enough to engage with his clan when they were threatened, however, and Voldemort himself used the power of Brgithbringer to banish and absorb the fleeting spirits as they tried to combat the invaders.
"We don't have time to deal with each of them in this manner," Voldemort said, "take control of them and have them fight amongst themselves."
The necrolytes leapt forward, happily weaving their power over the dead and commanding the spirits into mayhem of self-destructive combat.
Passing through the chaos, Voldemort rounded the circular stables, eventually coming to the first corporeal undead they had come across in the entire valley surrounding the tower.
A magnificent horse, its hooves ablaze with magical fire, stood passively in the largest and center stall, a place of honor for the greatest horse present.
"Interesting," Voldemort said, noting the perfect size of the stirrups and barding that the undead warhorse wore. It would serve well if he could bind the horse to himself.
But as in life, such a beast would have to be broken into his service. Beyond the horse and the blacksmith were another set of stairs leading upward. "Move on, I will be but a moment." Voldemort ordered, causing his forces to progress onward, decimating the specters of blacksmiths and emptying the forges of their laborers.
Facing the horse once more, Voldemort grinned. He pointed Blightbringer at the steed and started to intone the spell of binding the dead. The horse reacted, rearing up and screaming shrilly in a panic as the magic started to waft over it.
"Who dares attack the steed of the Huntsman!" a voice cried out, even as a humanoid undead charged at Voldemort, seeming to emerge from a darkness that hadn't been there previously.
The undead's blade clashing heavily with Brightbringer, and Voldemort grunted in irritation. Nothing even went as easily as one hoped.
Throwing the armored undead back, the Death Knight sized up his opponent. The undead seemed to have no magic of his own, but the skill he wielded in life was clearly passed on in death.
"Perhaps you would rather test yourself against a more formidable opponent?" the Huntsmen said challengingly, leaping forward once more.
Voldemort dodged to the side, kicking the back of the figured to send him staggering. However, before he could retaliate, the horse itself charged at him, rearing and kicking with the flaming hooves.
The Death Knight was forced aside, allowing the Huntsmen to recover and face him once more. "Coward!" the Huntsmen shouted, angered, "Wretch!"
The twin swords clashed thrice more, even as Voldemort circled the Huntsmen, seeking an opening to plant Blightbringer into the armored body.
They fighters were forced to separate as the warhorse reared, charging through the melee and interrupting their struggle. Voldemort started to grow irritated. Something that ought to have been rather simple was turning into a grueling task that he had not wanted this early into their capture of the tower.
Tapping into the magic of Death, he started to release blasts of destructive magic. He had been long practicing ways to refine and direct the life ending magic of his favorite curse, the sickening green spell leapt from Blightbringer like lightning.
Unfortunately, his supreme accuracy that he had boasted in life had slacked with his death, and the Huntsmen was able to intercept the deadly spell with his own weapon, knocking the massive sword away where it impacted into a wooden wall.
Not a total loss, Voldemort figured, as the loss of weapon would still be to his advantage. "Weapons are merely a convenience for a warrior of my skill!" the Huntsmen boasted, continuing to attack with his fists.
The overconfidence of the other undead warrior proved to be beneficial to Voldemort. Despite the heavily armored gauntlets that the Huntsman wore, they were cut asunder by Blightbringer's enchanted blade, and exposed the rotten flesh of the undead warrior.
Voldemort parried the next strike, before ramming the two-handed sword back toward the exposed torso of his opponent. With a ringing thud, the serrated side of the runeblade bit deeply into the armor, knocking the Huntsman back and dropping him to his knees.
But apparently he was still not willing to give up the fight. "Come Midnight, let's disperse this petty rabble!" he shouted, reaching up and seizing the reins as the horse stopped at his side.
With a graceful show of strength, the Huntsman pulled himself up into the saddle and drew a spare weapon from the side of the horse's armor, before charging forward to reengage Voldemort.
Dodging to the side of the charging steed, Voldemort swung Blightbringer sharply, catching the downward strike of the Huntsman, throwing his arm and weapon backward, and disarming him once again. Death had not improved the man's grip on his weapon, it seemed. Striking like a serpent, Voldemort physically grabbed the mounted warrior, pulling strongly to heave the figure from the saddle and throw him across the room.
Leaping quickly, he caught his opponent before he had the change to recover, and drove the runeblade through his chest and into the ground. The horse, Midnight, whinnied in terror and backed away from Voldemort as its master lay dying once again.
The Huntsman was apparently laughing, "HA! Always knew… someday I would become… the hunted." He said, before sagging and lying still at last.
Wrenching Blightbringer from the corpse, Voldemort cast one last glance at his first great opponent in the tower, before turning back to the warhorse once more, "Now, where were we?" he muttered lifting the glowing blade once more.
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Teg'Ramm watched as the Bonechewer orcs departed some time after they went inside to speak with Lord Nobu'tan. They took no detours as they mounted their wolves and pounded out of the fortress, heading back in a rough direction that would take them to the central citadel of the region.
Turning back to their Great Hall, the Chieftain of the Balefire Clan spotted the Grand Warlock watching from a high window in the modified and improved stronghold building, grim-faced and studying the landscape around them.
Teg'Ramm knew somewhat about their overarching plan for this place, and hoped that in time they would learn more about the rest of Outland, and spread out to explore the entire region, rather than remaining here in this red and dead land.
Currently, he was here only to oversee the security of the stronghold as the goblins worked to rebuild and improve the defenses already in place. The Fel Orcs had no concept of architecture it seemed. Teg'Ramm had overheard some of the engineers that had been brought to labor on the fortifications, and they were all of the opinion that it would be far easier to tear down everything and rebuild it with their own materials and defenses in mind.
But there was a reason to keep the existing appearance, the ogre mage knew. They wanted to keep their alliance with the Bleeding Hollow Fel Orcs quiet as long as possible, until they would be attacking and taking control of the primary stronghold of the area.
Hellfire Citadel apparently was the chief structure from the old Horde, the seat of their power when Outland was Draenor, and Nobu'tan knew that this structure had to become his to enforce his will as heir of the Horde of old.
Undermining the clans that currently dwelled there was only a small part of their preparations in this direction.
Teg'Ramm's other magi and warlocks had their orders to that end: deep inside the new under levels of the Great Hall they were summoning in more warriors and special equipment for infiltrating the larger fortress.
A strangled cry turned the ogre mage's heads upward. Feltalon and her Veela were returning. The leader of the harpy-like women landed on the stones near the Balefire Chieftain with a clatter.
"I need to speak with Lord Nobu'tan immediately," she said, her voice shrill and piercing. "It is a matter of importance."
"I am not certain if he is ready for more news at this moment," Teg'Ramm said, Ramm glancing up at the Great Hall. Nobu'tan had vanished within once more, but the flickering light within still indicated that the upper chamber was in use. "The Bonechewer Clan representatives just departed."
"I see…" Aisha replied, "But this is something that he needs to hear. The Legion has a presence in this region, and the demons are keeping a strong eye on everything that moves in this place."
Teg'Ramm nodded, "Let's go then…" he said, leading the way swiftly back to the Great Hall.
Storming through the main chambers, Teg'Ramm ascended the newly built stairs to the upper levels, ignoring those chambers that were only partially completed, and those with goblins and peons inside working, searching for the one completed room that Lord Nobu'tan had claimed for himself or whoever else would be in charge of the fortress.
They found him at the end of the corridor, feverously stirring at a swirling concoction inside a black cauldron. Teg'Ramm had seen his master in such a furor before, and knew that to interrupt him immediately could prove costly for everyone, as whatever was inside the cauldron could be potential hazardous unless he was allowed to work it to a stable state.
Aisha however, was not aware of this, and stepped forward, "Lord Nobu'tan," she said, "Important news from our scouts."
The potion inside the cauldron flared, sending a blue cloud of smoke into the air. Nobu'tan growled angrily, snatching a handful of silver-looking beetles and throwing them into the potion, stirring quickly until the sloshing liquid settled, turning a magnificent shadow or orange.
"Do not interrupt me when I am brewing!" Nobu'tan shouted, slamming the stirring rod on the side table and looking up. Drawing a deep breath, the Chieftain of the Stormreaver Clan calmed himself, "Continue," he said, turning away from the cauldron and walking back to the window.
Aisha, shocked at the reaction, took several moments to recover. Finally she took another, more tentative, step forward, "My sisters have scouted the region, and probed into the forest and swamp that are nearest on the western side. The immediate north and south have no landmasses, just empty space as this dead world floats through the vacuum of the Nether."
"That is useful to know," Nobu'tan said, "continue…"
"There are several large camps of Burning Legion demons, primarily around the Dark Portal, but additionally at the far western side among some ruins, and the mountains to the north," Aisha informed, pointing out the locations from the window, "additionally there is a tower of Blood Elves just west of the central citadel, and a ruins with those strange blue creatures to the northwest."
"So our enemies are spread throughout the region, intermixed so that they may end up fighting each other more than us... good. What else?" Nobu'tan said, nodding.
Aisha smirked as she spoke, "There is a massive city set inside the forest to the west, along the line between the swamp and the forest. Something powerful dwells there, but we did not dare get too close. There are other creatures there alike to our sisters, but hobbled and weak."
"More bird creatures… interesting," Nobu'tan said turning to look at her, "You have my permission to make contact and see if they are worthy to join the Dark Horde, or ally with while we linger in this place."
"Thank you, Lord Nobu'tan," Aisha said.
"This swamp, how infested is it, and who would you recommend I send to investigate it thoroughly?" Nobu'tan asked.
"There are many bridges and dry places, but Naga swarm most of the waters there." Aisha explained, "I'd recommend sending the Amani trolls there to scout, their skills in stealth would be the most useful under those strange mushroom-like trees."
Nobu'tan nodded, "Make it so Teg'Ramm," he ordered, "and I want scouts to focus on the forest more in that case. Send some feelers toward the city, I want to know who runs it and whether they're friend, foe, or otherwise."
"Yes Lord Nobu'tan," Teg'Ramm said, even as Aisha bowed to the warlock.
They departed swiftly, and Teg'Ramm watched the Fel Veela as they departed. Despite the recovery of her sense, there was still something of disquiet shudder running through the lithe avian form.
"He is passionate," Teg'Ramm said, as they emerged from the Great Hall to the strange light of Outland, "and when he gets himself worked up, working with his hobbies is the only means for him to control himself."
"I had suspected as much, but the violent reaction was still something of a shock." Aisha admitted, "Do you suppose it will happen to all of us affected by the Fel?"
The words sent a chill running tup the spine of the Ogre Mage. He had not considered the possibility until now, and what he knew regarding the strange changes in his master were more than worrying. "I could not say for certain…" he admitted, as they separated in front of the Great Hall, each to their assigned tasks.