Thanks for the reminder, I had an early Twitch stream and forgot to post the night before because sleep is apparently a thing... Nevertheless, here it be, the concluding chapter for the Burning Crusade segment of the story! Enjoy, and if you crave for more, consider my socials on the account page. I stream regularly through the week and would love people to chat with, even about fanfics while gaming various games! ~F
Chapter 146
Font of Light, Font of Fel
Velen waited expectantly.
He had sensed the moment when Kil'jaeden was thrust from Azeroth, and knew that he could arrive no sooner than this moment. The great horned form of Nobu'tan, formerly the human warlock of the Dark Horde, tilted his head in momentary confusion at the Prophet's request, before fishing out the small, blackened crystal.
Velen knew what this item was long before standing here now, and his role in reviving the very spark of Light that once existed within.
The human-demon, now resembling Illidan Stormrage in extreme similarity, stepped forward and carefully placed the jewel into Velen's hand, clearly pained at the sacrifice of the powerful gem and what it could accomplish for his own ends.
But Velen's visions said otherwise, and even the one who stood outside of what was well known could not hinder this pivotal moment.
"I thank you for your willing sacrifice of what power you felt this could bring to you," Velen said quietly, so that only the warlock could hear him, "Trust me that it will be put to a greater cause than you could imagine."
The expression on the demonic face was hard to read, but Velen could sense that Nobu'tan was doubtful, but curious as to what exactly Velen had in plan for the small gem.
Cupping the heart of the dead Naaru in his hands, Velen turn to the assembled forces of all factions involved in the war over the Sunwell, "Mortal heroes, your victory was foretold long ago," Velen started, "My brother's anguished cry of defeat will echo across the universe, bringing hope to all those who still stand against the Burning Crusade."
Velen took a breath, and stepped toward the golden waters before him, "As the Legion's final defeat draws ever-nearer, stand proud in the knowledge that you have saved worlds without number from the flame. Just as this day marks an ending, so too does it herald a new beginning…"
Holding the blackened jewel up for all to witness, Velen explained its importance, "The creature Entropius, whom was forced to be destroyed, was once the noble naaru, M'uru. In life, M'uru channeled vast energies of light and hope. For a time, a misguided few sought to steal these energies…"
The Blood Knight Matriarch, part of the Shattered Sun Offensive, lowered her head in shame, fully aware of what their prince had tricked them into doing just to survive, "Our arrogance was unpardonable. We damned one of the noblest beings of all. We may never atone for this sin."
"Then fortunate it is then, that the noble naaru's spark was recovered from where it fell!" Velen said, glancing once more at Nobu'tan in respectful deference. "Where faith dwells, hope is never lost, young blood elf."
With a flash of the Holy Light, Velen reignited the resonating core of the naaru, purifying what was once light and whole back to its former glory. The small crystal shone with a clarity of pure love, and knowledge that to this end was its destiny fulfilled.
"Can it be?" the Blood Knight Matriarch said, in awe of the display.
"Gaze now, mortals – upon the heart of M'uru! Unblemished; bathed by the light of creation – just as it was at the Dawn."
And to the astonishment of all present, Velen tipped his hand, allowing the priceless jewel to tumble into the Sunwell itself. The magic of the Holy Light surged through the arcane pool of golden waters, and violently flared into purest radiance. The light surged upward from the pool, filling the entire chamber with warmth. A pillar of purest energy rose upward, just as it had in days long past, but now with the strength of the Light to support it.
"In time," Velen declared, "the light and hope held within will rebirth more than this mere fount of power… mayhap, they will rebirth the soul of a nation."
The Blood Elves, both of Silvermoon as well as the Shattered Sun, stepped forward, gleefully feasting on the rich ambient magic from their renewed Sunwell, filling themselves to brusting on the Light and the Arcane, which plentifully poured from the waters.
"Blessed ancestors!" Liadrin cried, jubilant at the song of power that sang through the room unheard by all those who were not familiar with the power of the Light, "I feel it… so much love... so much grace… there are no words… it is impossible to describe…"
Velen smiled warmly, understanding the experience that the young Elf was struggling to put into words. "Salvation, young one. It waits for us all."
He glanced once more at Nobu'tan, the human-demon uncomfortable at the overwhelming power of the Light now shining throughout the room, but tolerating it for the sake of those present, "Farewell…" Velen continued, nodding once more to them all, before his guards prepared the way for him to return to the Exodar with all swiftness.
There work here was done, and the future would proceed as the Prophet had foreseen. The Blood Elves would become a noble and strong people once more, and eagerly rally against all foes of Azeroth, regardless of whom they fought beside. It seemed even the future he had seen took the Dark Horde into partial account, as now there were Elves numbered among them, which would protect them from the disputes from both Horde and Alliance that would shortly break out.
"I will retire, and ponder on all that has occurred," Velen told his guard, and turned from the grand central chamber of the crashed ship to where his personal chambers waited. There was much to think on, and the Prophet had more planning to do to help urge the world on the correct course.
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Lor'themar was in tears, seeing the Sunwell restored to its former glory. The Blood Knights were overjoyed, and already setting out plans for their order to take command of the defenses of Quel'Danas, to guard the rejuvenated spark of the naaru in penance for their involvement in the creatures decent into madness and its death.
Those members of the Horde, Alliance, and Dark Horde were gently ushered out of the room with the Sunwell itself, especially those warlocks of the Dark Horde. The paladins of Quel'thalas wanted nothing more to do with the Fel on this isle, and the fact that there were members of their own race sickeningly twisted by the demonic energy, was simply not acceptable.
Lor'themar already could tell that there would be a strict lockdown of the isle, who could come and go freely, and the methods of delivery of the much needed magic for their suffering people.
Glancing at the leader of these Felblood, Lorthemar frowned, "You're lucky that you engendered the favor of the Dark Horde," he said quietly in Thalassian, "otherwise we would have no choice but to execute you all as traitors to Quel'thalas."
Valdris nodded, understanding perfectly, "We did what we thought was right, and we were betrayed by Kael'thas, just as much as you." He stated flatly, "We will accept our banishment, and hope that one day forgiveness may be bestowed upon us."
"Perhaps," Lor'themar said, switching to orcish as Nobu'tan the warlock approached, "The effort to reclaim the Sunwell and banish the Deceiver will definitely be capable of swaying some…"
"The Dark Horde will protect these fine Elves," Nobu'tan said, stopping a respectful distance from the Regent Lord of Quel'thalas, "and I assure you, they will go one to achieve greater things than your people will ever imagine. In time the Felblood will be remembered as heroes, rather than monsters."
"Would that such times already be upon us," Lor'themar said, honestly, "but then again would that our world not be thrust again and again into dire conflict."
"I cannot guarantee that the Dark Horde will be the perfect bastion of peace…" Nobu'tan replied, exchanging a knowing look between Lor'themar and himself, "The Amani are still firm allies of our faction, and Zul'jin will be avenged."
"And the Farstriders will be there to keep our lands," Lor'themar replied, meeting the steel of the warlock's gaze with his own. They were mutual allies for now, in this moment, but he knew that they couldn't hold on to such things for long. Eventually all ties wore down, and the infighting would continue.
Nobu'tan just smiled, a cruel-appearing thing on the demonic face, before his entire form seemed to melt and shift back into that of a human. The middle aged man's emerald eyes were striking, very similar to the vibrant green of the Blood Elves, but somehow more passionate.
"Then until that day comes, or another threat brings us together peaceably, the Dark Horde shall take its leave." He said, turning and walking away.
Lor'themar nearly dismissed the warlock as he joined the circle of his associates, but he distinctly caught the sight of the smaller Assassin handing Nobu'tan a glowing scepter that had been on the ground when the Alliance and Blood Elves had arrived.
But before he could turn or even get another glance at the strange magical weapon, a shadowy portal had already consumed the Dark Horde, and the Felblood, whisking them away far to the south and their mountain fortress.
"Amani and Felblood under one roof…" Lor'themar said, dwelling momentarily on the irony, "Good luck managing them together."
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Nobu'tan knew from the moment they returned to Blackrock, that there was about to be an emotional storm unknown to the mountain since they took it from the Black Dragons.
The Felblood sensed it as well, and were clustered together, as though awaiting an inevitable betrayal when the other leaders of the Dark Horde arrived to congratulate Nobu'tan on the defeat of Kil'jaeden.
Nobu'tan knew that there was no avoiding the inevitable problem, and glanced at Teg'Ramm and the others, "I want Voone and the other Amani leaders privately within the hour. Bring them discreetly Blaise."
"Yes, Lord Nobu'tan," the assassin said, darting out of the portal room and dodging around the guards.
"Teg'Ramm, you will be enforcer to prevent any hostilities as we smooth this problem out between the Trolls and the Felblood. We wish to avoid any lasting injuries, but if it comes to it…" Nobu'tan trailed off, even as the two heads of his loyal servant tilted in understanding.
"Teron, Voldemort, prevent any outside interference. Incapacitate, but kill if you must," Nobu'tan finally said. He honestly didn't think it would come to that, but there was always the chance.
Beckoning for the Felblood to follow him, Nobu'tan stepped out of the portal room, and made his way to the uppermost levels and the war room of the Dark Horde.
There would be no hiding the presence of the Elves this way, but he figured it was better to not try and conceal them, for the trolls to discover later. This needed to be dealt with a swiftly and openly as possible. The orc grunts guarding the chamber were surprised, but from them Nobu'tan expected the word to spread as soon as they were out of sight.
And he was not disappointed. They had scarcely rounded the ramp leading up to the main area of the mountain, when an entire host of orcs, ogres, and trolls had already assembled, watching as the precession of the Grand Warlock leading Elves through their mountain passed by.
The angry muttering started low, but Nobu'tan could hear as it grew quickly. They were well within their rights to question his decision here, but until they had full deliberation with the leaders of the Amani, Nobu'tan would stay true to his course.
Nothing happened; however, and they were permitted to ascend to the upper chambers without any violence breaking out, although the emotion rose considerably between the fear of the Elves and the hatred of the trolls in the mountain.
Sweeping into the chamber, Nobu'tan waved the Elder Wand, conjuring seating for all the Elves, and the Trolls that were to come. "Whatever happens, say and do nothing unless I say," Nobu'tan instructed them, even as he sensed Blaise starting to return with Voone and his lieutenants in tow.
Once all the Elves were seated, Nobu'tan took the strone throne that had once been Nefarian's, and waited the few moments before Teron opened the door, permitting entry to Blaise, as well as Voone and the Shadowhunter Vosh'gajin.
"Nobu'tan, wat be da meanin' o dis?!" The troll demanded, jabbing a finger at the Elves as he approached. Nobu'tan could see the troll's other hand inching toward the axe he wore at his waist, and Teg'Ramm sidled closer to the Elves, the sheer physical presence of the ogre acting as deterrent enough for the moment.
"Calm yourself, Voone, and listen to the full story, and how these Elves, the Felblood, have been as harmed by their own people as you and the Amani have been harmed by the Blood Elves and their ancestors." Nobu'tan said, gesturing at the remaining seats, hoping that the Warlord would listen to reason before flying off the handle.
The battle of emotion that played across the tusked face told a mountain's worth of information, but eventually cooler heads won out, and Voone took the chair. With extreme care, Nobu'tan retold the story of their venture up to Quel'thalas, and the death of Prince Kael'thas, as well as the vile truth behind the creation of the Felblood.
At first, it didn't seem sufficient to convince the Warlord. But as Nobu'tan told of the hordes of Elves and demons that they had to fight through in order to reach Kil'jaeden, the effort that the Felblood showed in overthrowing the advance of the Burning Crusade, he could see the slightest chink in the troll's emotion. There seemed to be a limit to even this old blood feud.
"And so," Nobu'tan finished, waving a hand in the direction of the Felblood, forcing the troll to glance over the small cluster of warped Elves, "Much like your people, these Outcasts of their own people have been thrust out of Eversong, upon pain of death should they return. If anyone in the Dark Horde could sympathize with what they've gone through, betrayal upon betrayal, and death, then it's the Amani. Would you turn away the strongest possible advantage to being able to strike revenge at the denizens of Quel'Thalas."
Voone seemed to be considering the possibility, even as Vosh'gajin touched his chin, a clear sign of deep concentration and thought. "Wat proof do dey have dat dey would even fight alongside de Amani… Elves be full o guile an' cannot be trusted…"
"The Felblood, like the rest of their race, suffer from a powerful addiction to magical energy," Nobu'tan explained, allowing a small plume of Felfire to rise from his hand, causing all of the Fel-touched Elves to perk up at the taste of Fel energy. "However, they can only satisfy their need of Fel energy. With the Sunwell restored as a font of Holy power, they literally have no source of magic outside of what we can provide. Their allegiance is assured in that."
That, at last, seemed to satisfy the troll and his unease regarding members of his most hated race. "Dey will be tolerated, for now… Better dat we keep an eye on dem rather dan dey run around without any knowin' where dey be at."
There was a small scuffle outside, and several grunts of pain, clearly trolls trying to enter and get a view of the Elves in Blackrock. "Better to keep dem away from de oders for now…" Voone said, glancing at the door, "Wait for dem to settle down…"
"Understood," Nobu'tan said, "The Felblood will make their homes in the upper parts of the Mountain anyway, which will keep a wide buffer between them and the rest of the Amani."
"I will handle de rest o' de Amani, Dey will be kept in line…" Voone promised, rising smoothly from his seat.
Even as the two Trolls slipped out of the door, bypassing the Death Knights and gathering their foolish warriors, Nobu'tan knew this wasn't over. It was a long, hard road ahead for the Felblood, and if they were to be accepted here, they needed more than the word of two Trolls and Nobu'tan himself. They would have to prove themselves over and over just to hold onto their place here, let alone succeed.
Gesturing at a flight of stairs, he turned to the Felblood, "quarters and other necessities are there, prepared for guests and others who come to the mountain. Take them, I will prepare a means for you to feast on the Fel in due time, although it may not be nearly as rich or useful as you may hope."
"We are alive," Valdris said with a shrug, "for now, that is enough…"
Nobu'tan nodded, standing, "If you'll excuse me for a time, there are other guests I need to greet, but I will return swiftly to handle the last of your needs. Teg'Ramm will tend to you in my absence," he added, nodding at the Ogre, who returned the gesture.
Stepping to the overlooking balcony, Nobu'tan permitted his wings to manifest themselves, and dove from the ledge, following the sharp spike of elemental magic that was quite foreign in the dreary waste. This was something pure, untainted by Fel or other corrupt magic, and it could only be the Son of Garona Halforcen. This one was someone Nobu'tan had very much wanted to meet.
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"Again! More ferocity!" the Ogre Shaman demanded.
Med'an hadn't been certain at first about the Dark Horde's choice of Shaman tutor for him, but within an hour of training under the ruthless Ogre Shaman of the Balefire clan quickly changed his mind. This one, even with only a single head, was quite intelligent for its race, and understood the powers of the elements alongside the best of teachers that Med'an had seen, even in Orgrimmar.
As he ran through the drills that the Ogre had prepared, unleashing a storm of lightning, as well as blasts of pure lava and frost, Med'an did have to consider the differences between the two Hordes, at least in their approach to the elements.
Thrall's Horde were more focused on their connection to the Elements, as well as the healing powers of water and the clairvoyance of air. However, the Shaman of the Dark Horde leaned far heavier into the strength of the Earth, and the raw destruction of Fire.
It was somewhat jarring, but in the end was very insightful, and proved to be quite the challenge for Med'an. His mother was watching closely, but he focused intently on making sure that he channeled as much fire into his blasts of magma, even as he attacked targets that the ogre had prepared of stone and wood for him.
Whether his renewed forcefulness pleased the trainer; however, Med'an did not find out. A figure appeared from the sky, and the ogre looked up, before calling for Med'an to halt. Garona approached then, and the figure landed lightly, Fel-green and shadowed wings folding away into an illusion of a powerful orcish frame.
"This must be the young Med'an I've heard so much about," the warlock said, approaching and greeting Garona with a light embrace. Med'an noticed that his mother allowed the contact, despite her natural revulsion to such closeness with others.
"Med'an," Garona said, ushering him toward the stranger, "This is Nobu'tan, Lord of the Stormreavers and Grand Warlock of the Dark Horde."
"Im honored…" Med'an said, starting to incline his head, but the stranger placed a hand on his shoulder, the grip tightening momentarily, interrupting him.
"The honor is mine, please," Nobu'tan said, smiling, but from the close vantage Med'an could see that the smile did not reach his eyes. In fact, it was clear that the eyes were not his own, and the aura of magic belayed some sort of illusion or trickery in Nobu'tan's very appearance.
Pushing the stray thought aside, Med'an smiled. "Your instructors are very skilled; I am learning many new things regarding the elements and the arcane."
Nobu'tan glanced at the shaman, who was smiling with pride at the praise of his student, "Yes, we have many who are skilled in diverse avenues of magic. But I am here to attend to a slightly different matter."
He glanced at Garona, before returning to Med'an, "You expressed interest in learning the theoretical knowledge of the Fel, and the ways and means of us warlocks…"
"Yes, I did…" Med'an said, hesitant with how quickly the man had dived straight to the very point of their meeting.
"I understand that this is rather forward, and I understand the stipulations that involve your observation and learning, but there is a matter that needs to be taken care of, and it would be an excellent learning experience for you if you wished to witness it." Nobu'tan explained.
Med'an glanced at his mother. She gave him no sign that he shouldn't go with the warlock, and so he smiled at Nobu'tan, "I'd love the demonstration."
"Excellent," Nobu'tan said, turning to point deeper into the canyon, "There's an old Altar of Storms down this path; that is where the ritual will take place. We will begin at sundown."
"He'll be there," Garona confirmed.
"Then I will see you there. Come with an open mind, and all the caution that you feel necessary for a warlock Fel-ritual." Nobu'tan said, turning away and conjuring the same shadowy-green wings. "I need to confirm that our other guests are settled and ready to participate in the same ritual."
And with a powerful leap, the warlock was away, wheeling into the air back up toward the mountain. Med'an was both excited and confused. The interest in meeting Nobu'tan face to face was slightly belated by how abrupt and surprising the visit was, and his launch into learning about the Fel would be extremely interesting, but dangerous, especially if his lessons started with a full Fel ritual demonstration.
"Shall we return to your drills?" the Balefire Shaman asked, snapping Med'an's attention back to the present, "There's plenty of fire in your belly now, just waiting to be used." He added with a wide grin.
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Tyrande listened patiently to the report from those watchers she had stationed in Stormwind. News had come from the Highborne exiles' land of Quel'Thalas. The Legion had attempted to attack their world once more through their Sunwell, a terrible bastard child of the Well of Eternity. While she was displeased to learn of such things, and that history had attempted to repeat itself, the news was still positive.
The Dark Horde, in conjunction with the 'Blood' Elves and Alliance forces from Stormwind had successfully assaulted the island fortress and thrust Kil'jaeden himself from the font of magic, shortly before the Prophet Velen sealed the arcane pool by infusing it with holy magic, preventing the demons from ever trying to use it as a gateway into Azeroth again.
While all ended well, it was still a very near success for the denizens of their world. Tyrande was not happy to know that the fate of their world had rested on the actions of the demonically-controlled Dark Horde. Even if their Grand Warlock had led the assault and personally fought Kil'jaeden, it was a risk that she deemed far too great to consider.
And while she would be sending a strongly worded message to Varian Wrynn, that was only the beginnings of their troubles. There were rumblings throughout the Eastern Kingdoms, as well as Southern Kalimdor. The very roof of the world was started to awaken, and the druids who had returned from the Emerald Dream spoke of the march of the Undead Scourge once again.
Warnings had to be sent to all known allies against the undead, and runners had been sent for Theramore, Stormwind, the Exodar, and Thunder Bluff, to warn all those friendly to the Kal'dorei of the coming attacks. For their part, the Night Elves were prepared for anything to come. No necromancers or any casters similar were permitted among their ranks.
And if the dead sought to march on Teldrassil, they would find a host more than ten-thousand years prepared to fight them, just as they did on the slopes of Hyjal.
They were so prepared, in fact, that Tyrande felt more than confident in sending reinforcements to Stormwind, as she greatly suspected that the city would be the chief target of the dead. They had assaulted the entire Eastern Kingdoms in great force when the flying Necropolis had arrived in the north of the continent, and it made sense that they would try to finish what they started.
Tyrande had almost considered going in person, but there were curious movements in Darkshore and Ashenvale that suggested an attack against their holdings on the shores of Kalimdor, and she would be needed to hold the line here.
"Malfurion…" she said, looking out over the city. How she longed for the return of her Beloved… even as more and more druids awoke from the Dream to contend with the crises that assailed their world. And yet the Shado of their people, the Archdruid of the Night Elves slumbered on, oblivious to even how she needed him at her side.
"Tyrande," a female voice said, and the High Priestess turned to see her adopted daughter, and General of the Sentinels, Shandris Feathermoon, quickly approaching her. She was already in full battle armor, and prepared to lead their forces on their sail to Stormwind, but the look on the younger Night Elf's face was grim, and it had nothing to do with events of the future.
It was the look of someone struggling with information that they did not know if they wanted to share. "What is it, Shandris?" Tyrande said, stepping forward. Her adopted daughter was not one prone to shyness, not after so many thousands of years, but it seemed that there were still things to surprise Tyrande.
Shandris glanced back at the balcony, a flash of sorrow crossing her face, "We all miss his presence," she said, and Tyrande knew what she was pointing out. "There is news of a portal into the Dream opening at the northern end of Feralas…" she reported, steeling herself, "It seems that Emeriss, the green dragon, is there, but he is… off… we don't know what is wrong with him."
Tyrande frowned. That was disturbing news. Emeriss was one of the guardians of the Dream. If he had become corrupted in some means, that did not bode well for her Beloved. But as much as she wanted to rush southward and investigate, they had a duty to the world, first and foremost.
"We cannot divert from our course." She said, holding back tears. "We protect Azeroth and the other races, then we will go and investigate this emerald gateway."
Shandris almost looked like he was about to protest, but seeing the strain that the decision caused Tyrande, she paused, and kept silent. "As you wish, High Priestess," she said.
"We will discover what delays Malfurion," Tyrande said, looking up to keep her composure, "but we cannot sacrifice the whole world for it. He wouldn't want to awaken to that world."
Shadris nodded, turning to depart. Tyrande knew that if she had given the order, her daughter in all but blood would have dropped everything and taken their forces to investigate. Malfurion was the paragon of Night Elf society, any citizen of Darnassius would gladly do anything to hasten his return to them.
But… the other races would need the Kaldori if they were to survive the coming march of the dead. What came after, the Night Elves may not need to be involved, and could withdraw to deal with internal issues.
Tyrande only hoped that they were not too late, and missed a crucial opportunity when they turned their attention to protecting the other races. "Hold on my love, we are coming for you," she said into the wind, hoping that somewhere, out in the Emerald Dream, her Beloved could hear her voice, and knew that she was thinking of him.
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Teg'Ramm helped the Felblood as best as he could, but for the most part their needs were taken care of by the supplies that had been placed for them.
For the most part, the Elves had cleaned themselves up and had a light meal soon after Nobu'tan departed, but they had clearly been restless and seeking something that wasn't to be had at the present moment.
Fortunately, the absence of the Grand Warlock was a very short one. As swiftly as he had departed Nobu'tan returned, soaring up the side of the mountain and landing gracefully on the balcony. "I trust they aren't too agitated from the lack of Fel infusion" he asked Teg'Ramm, walking swiftly toward the guest chambers.
"Is that was their agitation is?" Teg'Ramm asked, each head glancing at the other in their mild confusion. It was an interesting notion, but not one that the ogre mage was familiar with.
"Yes, they need regular infusions of magic, their entire race does; otherwise they degenerate into ravenous creatures… But we will remedy that situation within the evening."
"How do you plan to do that?" Teg pressed further.
"There is no massive source of Fel magic for them to use in this manner, unless you plan to create one." Ramm added.
"It will be tricky, but I have an idea that might work for a while, if not be a significant solution for many years to come." Nobu'tan said, "I want the ogre warlocks to gather every scrap of Pitlord blood we have left in store, Magtheridon's and Brutallus'. Have them bring it all down to the abandoned Altar of Storms in the secluded canyon. That is where we shall create a font of Fel magic for them to use. Ironically, it will of use for other rituals later on as well, but we have an immediate need for it now rather than later."
"Yes, my Lord," Teg'Ramm said, already conjuring eyes of Kil'rogg to send the message to the upper ranking members of his clan. The Balefire Clan had taken control of stockpiling and managing the relics, ingredients and other implements of the Fel rituals, freely allowing all warlocks of the Dark Horde access, but making sure that there was plenty for all and that the resources were not hoarded by any one group or clan.
It was a simple task to inform those in direct charge of their stores that the Grand Warlock required the demonic Felblood of the Pit Lords and the location to deliver them, and he was assured that it would be done.
Soon enough, the Elves had been coaxed down to the Altar of Storms, with Teg'Ramm and Nobu'tan ushering them via portal so that they could avoid encountering any Amani members on their way down, while the Elves were in such an agitated state.
The other ogres arrived swiftly, carrying crates of the blood vials and staking them neatly just out of the ritual circles, standing by awaiting instructions for the ritual. The only anomaly was the little part-orc runt that lingered at the edge of earshot, watching intently. Nobu'tan seemed to acknowledge the boy's presence, but said nothing regarding whether he was to be there or not, therefore Teg'Ramm was not about to make mention of it. Should he need to be removed, Nobu'tan would have instructed it to be so.
"We shall solve the issue of your need for Fel magic with this," Nobu'tan was explaining to the Elves, walking them through the ritual as he had designed it. The Fel Blood would be a powerful lure for many demons to their world, and the energy of their passing through their world, and leaving again, would be able to charge the stones surrounding the Altar nigh indefinitely.
"I want every warlock here to gather as many vials as they can carry, and hold them aloft while I begin, add your magic to mine only when your vials are empty." Nobu'tan instructed, hefting the raven-crowned staff and crossing to the head of the ritual circle.
A strike of the end cap on the stones and Nobu'tan began, creating a woven net of Fel magic over the circle. Only then did he nod to the rest of them, indicating that the vials were the be opened, and the Fel Blood poured out liberally on the stones.
Teg'Ramm was the first, and watched as the green, sludge-like liquid flowed out of the vial and plopped heavily on the ground. Instantly, it flared an iridescent green, and particles of magic from with were torn upward, caught in the net that Nobu'tan was holding, as though magnetized to fly upward as soon as it was released from the particles of blood that had created them.
Soon, raw Fel magic was flowing upward from all directions around the circle, and the energy of the net holding them started to intensify, even as Teg'Ramm and those who completed the task of emptying their vials fasted joined in the weaving of a magical net to hold all that power.
Slowly, Nobu'tan started to shape the cloth of pure magic that they controlled, rolling it over itself again and again, condensing the captured magic into a powerful orb of pure Fel until the last drop of blood was sapped of all magic.
"Now, pour every scrap of power you can spare into the orb, we will need every amount possible to make it as tantalizing as possible for wild demons," Nobu'tan instructed, offering a great portion of his own magic, which caused the orb to surge even brighter. As the three dozen figures, Elves and ogres alike, contributed as well, the molten orb of power started to pulsate, the magic resonating deeply in those closest to it.
"Alright, release it," Nobu'tan ordered, binding the orb to the altar with a chain of arcane and shadow, energies that wouldn't interact with the Fel directly, but push against it, keeping it from being stolen by anything.
"Back away and wait, let us see what our bait lures to it," Nobu'tan said, stepping back and watching the throbbing orb of magic.
Teg'Ramm obeyed, and he sensed the call going out through the Nether, a lure that would be irresistible to scores of lesser demons. And the sudden brilliance of the plan struck the ogre mage. The hapless demons would be eager to have even a taste of so much raw Fel magic, free of the ties to the Legion that would come with it, and in exchange they would be urged to serve the Black Harvest, and through them the Dark Horde. Additionally, their passing would create sufficient energy to power this orb for years, forcing the cycle to continue.
And within moments they had their first catches. Groups of wild imps tore through portals of their own magic, the magic ushering them in being siphoned into the orb as they arrived, and leaving them weakened and unable to resist the call of binding spells as the warlocks and Felblood Elves shackled each and every one of them that appeared.
They would have an army of demons all to themselves, and the power to feed the Elves until they were completely satisfied.
"I trust that this will be a solution for your needs for the present," Nobu'tan said, turning to the leader of the Felblood Elves. The warped humanoid was smiling, already passively feeding off the fresh energy in the orb and seeming much calmer than when the Elves had first arrived. "You've given us all that we could ask for. I presume you want Felblood to man this place, and bind you an army of demons to use whenever the need arises."
"I felt it would give you all a very productive task, and one that would benefit you all directly so long as it functions." Nobu'tan replied, smirking at his cleverness.
The Elf could only nod. Teg'Ramm could barely hold back his own grin. The plan was genius, trapping the Felblood with their own salvation. They would work for the Dark Horde, and based on their own success they would either feed well on their own addiction, or starve through failure.
"Then I will leave it to you then." Nobu'tan said, handing over a set of stones to the Elf. Teg'Ramm recognized the hearthstones that would bring them effortlessly to and from their residences to the Altar, nullifying any problems with unwanted confrontations.
Nobu'tan turned from the Altar at that point, walked toward the young part-orc. Teg'Ramm followed at a respectful distance, knowing the subtle signs of weariness in Nobu'tan's gait. He would be weakened slightly from using all that extra power and concentration, and if something happened, Teg'Ramm would be on hand to protect the Lord of the Dark Horde.
"So Me'dan, how was that for a first exposure to the powers of the Fel, in its rawest and simplest form?" Nobu'tan asked the young orc.
The younger figure smiled, but before he had a chance to respond, Teg noticed something coming from behind Nobu'tan, around the bend in the road. A small knot of shambling undead, and a necrolyte in black robes came into view, but there was no need for one of their kind to be here, and neither did they interact often with the Grand Warlock directly.
Even as the assassin raised a scepter and started to cast a spell at Nobu'tan, Teg'Ramm charged forward, throwing himself between the two figures discussing the finer aspects of magic, and raised a shield as hastily as he could. The spell was more powerful than he anticipated. Teg'Ramm was also weakened from the ritual, and his shield shattered under the impact.