We near the end of the Wrath Arc of the story, and honestly, I feel relieved. The end of this arc was hard, in no little part because of sheer demotivation to write because of too much to do otherwise, but we made it! I have been plotting and planning what to do after this bit for a long time, so I strongly hope that, as soon as Wrath is wrapped up, we can have a nice break to really dig into the characters where they currently stand, and flesh out a great deal of the world before the next crisis... Anyway, Read and Review, and please enjoy the next chapter! ~F

Chapter 178

Tyrants of Death

Nobu'tan felt the Fel thrumming in his veins. These creatures had assaulted Stormwind, trying to capture or kill as many of the wizards of old terra, to try and make more monsters like they had attempted to create with the death of Pansy Parkinson. At his side, the rage of a grieving mother rang like the song of demanding justice, and fueled his hatred for the Lich King's abominations all the more.

He had seen this in the face of Lady Parkinson, and he knew that her hatred was just, and would be answered by the man who had brought her family to this place. Perhaps in his devastation of their enemies, he might find forgiveness for the part of the blame that he possessed in killing the young woman.

Even as the winged horror attempted to leap at their elven allies, chains of demonic magic sprouted to life around her, entangling the wings and limbs and going taught, dragging the vampire through the air and slamming her down into the enchanted stone.

Billowing green-black wings of hatred and power surged to life around Nobu'tan, even as a shadow of his true form flashed over his visage of his old humanity. "You dare to think youself so invulnerable, as to prey upon those I have claimed!" he spat, sparks of Felflame accompanying his words as his rage manifested through his magic.

"I will tell you, as I have told countless defeated abominations and demons that stood between my people and their peace, we will never serve others! We will take what is owed, after all our trials, all our pain! And you, and your masters, will wither before my wrath if you DARE to stop us!"

He could feel his allies backing away as his anger boiled upon the surface of his skin. The call of flame leapt to his hands, blasting the vampire of the surging green of the Fel, and she shrieked, the pure hatred of the magic pouring into even her undead nerves and sinews, renewing the dead flesh to know the torments that she had inflicted on countless others.

There was no mercy to be had here, however, and Nobu'tan did not stop until there was nothing left but a smoldering hole in the stone floor, nothing to mark the passing of the vamperic queen or her brood. Not even a soul to limp back to her master's side, as his magic had scorched even that, eliminating her from existence altogether.

Turning his back on the ruin of his people's personal enemy, Nobu'tan studied that faces that watched his every move. The Scarlet Crusader held fear in her eyes, as though the thought of what she and her forces had almost faced themselves, to the worry in both Teg'Ramm and Sirius' eyes, and the calculation in the Banshee Queen, and the other elves of both the Horde and the Alliance. They should all take the warning to heart, and carry it back to their Warchief and King. To interfere with the Dark Horde and their search for peace was nothing more than wishing for death, both in this life and whatever afterlife thereafter.

At a whispered spell, the grate buckled, revealing a straight drop to the entrance below, and aided by the Fel, Nobu'tan dropped back to where they had come, speeding their return to the center, just as a rune of power finally gave way and broke with the death of the San'layn and their queen.

"Only Sindragosa remains, then," Nobu'tan said, "We should start considering the important question… Who faces the Lich King, and who holds our escape should the worst happen and we fail?"

"Seems rather inconsiderate to think that we can make that decision before the Frost Queen is defeated, let alone the return of one third of our forces…" the living female elf said, haughtily striding up to him, and ignoring the stiffening of Teg'Ramm as she got nearer to Nobu'tan than the ogre warlock liked.

"I'm sorry, who are you?" Nobu'tan said, legitimately at a loss for who this elf woman was. She appeared similar to the Banshee Queen, but at the same time, in Nobu'tan's eyes, most female elves appeared similar, so he could not accurately claim a family relationship between the two.

"Vereesa Windrunner," she replied coldly, as though the last name meant more than confirming the suspicion that Nobu'tan had had, "Ranger General of the Silver Covenant…"

"Ok…" Nobu'tan countered, letting a small amount of his impatience slip mask his well concealing mask of indifference, "that still does not tell me what purpose you have in being here…"

She started to reply, but Nobu'tan overrode her, "You represent Dalaran and its interests; that is true, but at the same time why did they send you specifically… any of their high ranking mages would have been more effective to combat the Lich King…"

Her anger started to swell, but Nobu'tan wanted it to be perfectly clear that she had no room to try and size herself up to him and his weight in the matter, "That would mean you have personal reasons for being here, and used your position to jockey for a spot on the assault team. And you yourself have confirmed the real reason for your presence."

A not so subtle glance at the undead leader of the Forsaken sealed the change from anger to shock in the elf's eyes. "You knew that she would be here, her own vendetta against the Luch King is well known, and what, you sought reconciliation, or perhaps answers for why she abandoned your people…"

She started to interrupt again, but Nobu'tan overrode her with an uplifted hand, "I don't care one way or another about your reasons, but you do not have the steel or the fire to face the Lich King. Therefore, I am uncomfortable with the idea of you, or anyone similar, at my back when we take the fight to him personally."

"As it so happens," he said, turning to face the others as they caught up from two of the three sides of the chamber, "I already know the best combination of our forces that will take on the Lich King, fully reasoned and chosen by who stands the best chance of victory."

"And you yourself are at the head of that list, I presume," Sylvanas replied, her hollow voice echoing in the gloom.

"Close, but no. that slot is reserved for you yourself, Dark Lady," Nobu'tan shot back, "There is nothing you won't do for a shot at him, and I have no intention of holding you back."

That seemed to quell her potential complaints, which allowed Nobu'tan to continue, "I will also be going, as the undead have targeted my people for their machinations, and because I will go Teg'Ramm and Black will follow whether I like it or not."

If the living Windrunner had a complaint, Nobu'tan continued to ignore her, "Hellscream will represent the interests of the Kalimdor Horde, and Jaina Proudmoore for the Alliance, with Draco who will not leave her side. Fordring will represent the Ardent Crusade. Finally, with a personal vendetta against the Lich King, the Death Knight Voldemort, and his attendant Bellatrix who would fight devotedly for his purposes."

Whether they liked that the lion's share of those set to face the Lich King were of or related to the Dark Horde or not, Nobu'tan was not going to entertain their complaints. He had chosen those who had a right to be there, and those whose denial would be fought with more than just word alone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Line Break ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bellatrix sang in the joy of her lord's power. Their force had pushed easily through the trap set for them, and entered a wide balcony where undead draconic whelps were being trained to serve by various vrykul, and were annihilated by what they had assumed was a force already dealt with.

Afterward, at the cries of the undead young, a pair of larger drakes had come to investigate, and they were blasted from the sky by thrown axes or Bellatrix's own magic, or else dragged to the balcony by the necromantic mastery of the Death Knights and devastated by their melee force.

Only then, with the lesser dragons destroyed, did they attract the attention of the great frostwyrm: Sindragosa.

"You are fools to have come to this place! The icy winds of Northrend will consume your souls!" the dragon bellowed, even as she swooped down to land among them on the balcony.

But whatever battle that the undead dragon had expected was not what Lord Nobu'tan had planned for this threat. At a signal from the Dark Lord, she sent a ray of magic up out the balcony, where their own air forces stood waiting for the signal that the leader of the Frost Wyrms was occupied.

And up they rose, the Fel Drake riders, with the soul consuming Felflame on their breath as they flanked the grounded dragon. "Aaah! It burns!" the dragon cried, seemingly still able to feel pain as its own soul was burned by the demonic power in the dragonbreath, "What sorcery is this?!"

She attempted to escape into the air, to bring battle to the smaller drakes entering her domain, but the three Death Knights combined their magic to bind her to the balcony, eliminating her advantage by keeping her grounded.

"Suffer, mortals, as your pathetic magic betrays you!" the dragon intoned powerful command over magic, and Bella and the Death Knights had to fall back, or their very forms would combust with the tide of magic trying to end them.

Fordring, the other paladin, as well as the Frost Troll, charged forward, continuing to battle with the dragon without the aid of magic. Apparently, the disruptive magic had no sway over the Paladin's connection to the Light.

The icy breath was blocked by a dome of holy magic, and a swiping claw was entangled by a strong net produced by the troll. Quickly, the aura of magical feedback dissipated, and the Death Knights returned to the fray, Bellatrix rising over the battle to add bolstering magic to their force.

The trouble was that, with the ending of the blaze of magic burning power, the undead dragon's command over ice and cold started to settle into the stone of the balcony, and patches of magic infused frost rapidly started to sweep outward from her bones and rotten flesh. "Can you feel the cold hand of death upon your heart?" the dragon asked, the question punctuated with the lack of care in the undead draconic voice.

In a flash of permafrost, the dragon was freed from mundane bonds. Rearing again, she tried once more to gain flight and take the advantage in their conflict. Unfortunately, Bellatrix was aloft already, and with a flash of power, she enacted a spell that fused her new body's command over undead material with old Terra's magical knowledge.

A bubble of pressurized force blossomed above the dragon, striking hard across the back as Sindragosa tried to lift off once again. The magic was not strong enough to hold the Frost Queen alone, but it gave the others the time they needed to break free of the encroaching ice and refocus their attention to keeping the dragon grounded.

Highlord Fordring released a surge of holy magic, which seared the wings of the dragon, crippling her ability to fly completely. "Aaah! It burns! What sorcery is this?!" she bellowed in agony.

Bellatrix almost shouted for joy at the pain of their foe. Even as her Lord several one of the forelimbs completely, she knew that their victory was assured.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Line Break ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Varian knew the dangers of stepping onto an active battlefield, and the promise that he had given Anduin to not go forth to battle in Northrend, but having seen the force assembling against the defenders around Icecrown from the portal high above, he had little choice but to go and warn them himself, and stand with the people of Azeroth.

"Lord Malfoy," he said, his guards clearing the way to the raised steps where the human lord led the combined forces of Horde, Dark Horde, and Alliance while the others were inside the dire fortress, "grave news of another oncoming force."

"What more does the Lich King still even have to throw at us?" the man said, turning and inclining his head as the King of Stormwind approached.

"They have mustered a great number just outside the walls, and they are swarming from all possible avenues, even climbing over their own dead to reach this place." Varian reported, "They are desperate to reclaim this ground."

"Then they will be pushed back, and their failure will be an eternal disappointment," the man replied haughtily, but it was no idle boast. The crackle of magic on the man's wooden wand spoke of the emotion covered behind the stony mask the man seemed to wear perpetually.

Drawing Shalamayne even as the rattle of bones started to sound outside of the walls, "Alliance, with me!" he commanded, and the warriors all around snapped to attention, recognizing the voice of their king. The Alliance would take to the front for this battle, and hold out till the Lich King was defeated.

The first ghoul to appear met the blade of kings, shattering the crumbled corpse as his honor guard swarmed around the entrance, herding in and cutting down the undead as they charged. A row of dwarven riflemen blasted the next wave away before they could reach the footmen.

The main threat however was coming up next. Skeletal mages, with curses and bolts of flesh eating magic ready to tear apart their warriors, staggered forward. "Vengeance for Terra!" cried a new voice, and blast of magic exploded from behind their lines. Members of the Viola Vindicta had rallied to them, their strange magic tearing through the brittle creatures at range and sparing the Alliance fighters from enduring their assault.

Varian felt the old battle lust trying to creep up his spine. The urge to take the able fighters and push the undead back was strong, but wisdom won out in the end. If they left the defenses that they had around them the hordes of undead waiting to enter would tear even the strongest warrior apart.

"Shore up this passage, to funnel the smaller Scourge to us and keep out their larger forces." He said instead. Less entertaining though it may have been, but patience had taught him to temper much of that lust for battle, and knowing that he had a son to return to did much to stem the desire to storm out into open fields and fight until he was overwhelmed.

"We will secure this place and shut down the main line of the Scourge's assault! We are the Alliance of Stormwind, and they will wash across our defenses as water on the stony cliffs!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Line Break ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jaina felt more than heard the shuddering crash as Sindragosa was at last defeated. The reverberations of her fall echoed through the stones of the Citadel, and the final beam of magical light faded from the central spire, activating the platform that would presumable carry them to the Frozen Throne itself.

And still, Nobu'tan remained motionless, watching and waiting for the remainder of their force to return from the final section of the upper halls. Jaina was not sure what was going through the warlock's mind. Surely, there was rage enough to make him as impulsive as Garrosh Hellscream, and yet the calmness he exuded was almost as terrifying as the impatience that wafted off the orc warlord.

It took what felt like hours for the final assault group to return, fortunately with no causalities, and Tirion Fordring in the lead. "Long have I waited for this day…" he said, eyeing their route ahead to the Lich King, "Are we prepared for who will bring the Lich King to justice?"

"We've decided," Nobu'tan said, and Jaina caught the searing eyes of Vareesa Windrunner. The elf would not dare voice her displeasure at being left behind, not after Nobu'tan had dismantled her arguments, but the resentment was still present. Tirion, however, did not see it, and nodded to Nobu'tan, even as they called forth those who would face off against the Lich King.

"We need to bolster our strength," Jaina said, even as her stomach gave a particularly painful note of emptiness. The warlock and the paladin glanced at her, before nodding, and signaling for rations and other previsions to be handed out. The best of what they had was given to those wh were going ahead, but there was enough even for the others staying behind to have something to eat and drink.

Jaina could not taste the food she was given, her mind already drawing upward toward what awaited them all. The memory of what Arthas had become, the soulless monster she had seen in the Halls of Reflection made chills run down her spine.

Still, the sustenance was just enough to stave off the unnatural chill of the upper floors, and quickly they had finished their preparations. "We are prepared," Nobu'tan said, nodding to Tirion to take the lead as they went to the magical teleporter.

"We battle for the fate of Azeroth, heroes!" Tirion said, drawing the Ashbringer and leading the way, "For the light of dawn!"

In twos and threes, the group of ten stepped onto the platform, and in a whirl of magic they were whisked away. Jaina was startled by the sudden drop of temperature as they arrived at the top of the citadel. The howling wind rushed around the summit of Icecrown, even as they instinctively turned their eyes upward to the grand steps leading to the Frozen Throne itself.

And he was there.

Arthas, the Lich King.

"So the Light's vaunted justice has finally arrived?" Arthas said, his voice heavy and muted with the deathly power that had consumed him. "Shall I lay down Frostmourne and throw myself at you mercy, Fordring?"

Even as he taunted them, Arthas rose from his icy throne and started toward them, the vile sword clutched in his hand as he descended the stairs to their level.

"We'll grant you a swift death, Arthas. More than can be said for the thousands you've tortured and slain." Fordring replied, the righteous anger surging in his voice. Jaina remembered vaguely that the man had been a close friend to Uther, and the news of the Lightbringer's death, along with most of the remaining Knights of the Silver Hand, must have been a personal blow.

"You'll learn of that first hand." Arthas retorted, "When my work is complete, you will beg for mercy—and I will deny you. Your anguished cries will be testament to my unbridled power…"

"So be it…" Tirion said, gripping the Ashbringer tightly, "Champions of Azeroth, attack!"

He leapt forward, straight into a surprise spell from Arthas, which froze the Highlord into a block of solid ice, "I'll keep you alive to witness the end, Fordring. I would not want the Light's greatest champion to miss seeing this wretched world remade in my image…" the Lich King said, starting around the frozen Tirion and heaving Frostmourne up to contend with their remaining nine.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Line Break ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sirius felt the moment that this monstrosity of undeath would make for their forces, sidelining their most powerful offensive advantage in Tirion, and that he would have to fight the force of undeath with the Light that rang within him.

Leaping between the rest of their force and the Lich King, a shield comprised of pure Light erupted around Sirius' arm, weathering the blow as the soul-drinking blade crashed down upon it.

"You will not take us so easily," he said, feeling his strength growing as the Light surrounded him. The weight of the blade lightened, and his grip on his own sword reinforced itself. Sirius threw off the hulking weapon, counterattacking with his own blade, which struck home and rang deftly with the clang of metal on metal. The sizable dent in the Lich Kings armor was enough to know that this creature could surely be defeated.

However, their battle was only just beginning. The Lich King reared abck for another devastating attack, but flinched as several arrows blossomed around him, shattering on his armor as the Banshee Queen darted around in a wide arc.

At the same time, the undead Voldemort, as well as the orc Garrosh sprinted forward to flank Sirius on either side. "Together," Sirius said, and they advanced as one, Sirius letting his power in the Light shine before them.

Even as he blocked another swing of the deadly blade, the orc swung low, and Voldemort slammed his own weapon upon the same place that Sirius had already struck, and together they started to drive the Lich King back, away from those spellcasters that were still preparing for their own assault.

Soon enough, ghouls and other lesser undead started to appear, drawn by the intense power of their master, and Sylvanas turned to strike down these lesser foes, to keep them from swarming. In the back, Sirius heard the chanting of many spells, and the flares of flame and roar of demons told him all he needed to know. Their own miniature army of demons was assembling thanks to the efforts of three warlocks.

Sirius felt a wave of power wash over him, like a barrier of pure force, and heard the wails of the undead creature that he had a sinking suspicion was all that remained of his cousin Bellatrix. Nethertheless, the magic was sufficient to help him more easily weather the storm of attacks from the Lich King, and he was able to stand his ground.

After a particularly vicious strike from Hellscream, the Lich King staggered backward, before raising his weapon into the air, "I will freeze you from within until all that remains is an icy husk…"

Frozen wind surged off the blade, pushing outward and threatening to fling even the heavyset ogre magi backward toward the endless drop off the side of the summit.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Line Break ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lucius deftly spun his wand, weaving a pattern of deadly hexes and curses touched by his connection to the draining powers of the Fel.

Leading the support group of Terrans to the support of the King of Stormwind, Lucius dodged out of the way of a ghoul's flailing claws. Elegantly, he ducked, spun and sidestepped out of the way of the grasping bone fingers, and shielded against the sharp blade of another skeletal warrior's weapon.

They were holding, but only barely, as the tide of undead continued to pour from the surrounding territory. For once in the entire battle, and indeed all the confrontations that they'd encountered thus far, Lucius wished that his wife was at his side, rather than at home being the shielded lady that she deserved. Narcissa was a force to be reckoned with, both politically and in a duel, if it came down to it. The fact that she took far longer to rouse to ire than he was testament to the deadly precision that made Lucius defend his family above any other. Narcissa was the ace in the hole of any assault upon the house of Malfoy, and it was that reason alone that had won her the initial attention of the then teenage Lucius.

But indeed this was no place for a woman of her standing, and Lucius would valiantly fight to return to her side once more, and so he danced, transfiguring blade and bone into a flurry of shrapnel to eviscerate the next necromancer that appeared, trying to raise more of the fallen to the side of the Scourge.

A flare of arcane magic at their back made Lucius stiffen, but the horn calls and shouts of human voices were a relief. Reinforcements had come from Valiance Keep to the south. "To the King! For the Alliance!" bellowed the lead rider, even as the knights of Stormwind roared through the arcane gateway and crashed headlong into the ranks of the Scourge warriors.

"Highlord Bolvar!" shouted a footman, and the Alliance warriors cheered for the return of their mighty hero.

The cheers were silenced as the ground exploded upward along the wall on their west defences, where the Kalimdor Horde was situated and tended to their wounded. More of the vile crypt fiends poured from a newly opened tunnel, bypassing the tide of fiendfyre that Lucius and Blaise Zabini had sent into their midst.

But the undead spiders' arrival was answered not by a war cry, but a thunderclap, even as lightning poured down from the overcast sky.

"Storm, Earth, and Fire, heed the call of the Warchief of the Horde!" rang out a voice that Lucius had only had described to him. Thrall, the leader of the Kalmidor Horde, had arrived, and his vanguard was swarming over the Nerubians even as the elements themselves surged from their shaman leader.

Lucius knew that their need was dire, if the leaders of these factions had come in person to reinforce them, and it was time for the Dark Horde to rally their final forces to hold this ground. Every moment that they earned was another step for Nobu'tan and the strike force to find and defeat the Lich King.

Turning out of the way of the next attacking undead, Lucius spared a moment to fire a haze of purple and black sparks into the air, the signal for the Shadowmoon Clan to lead the charge of their reserves onto the field at last.

His blond hair whipping around his face, Lucius then focused all his attention on the foes in front of him, and spat curses of both Fel and wizardry at every undead he saw, allowing himself to slip into the cold dark that had consumed him during his years as an active Death Eater of the former Dark Lord Voldemort.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Line Break ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Teg'Ramm slammed his staff into the ground of the citadel's pinnacle, concerned that even he would be blown backward from the torrent of icy wind. This foe was well and truly beyond anything that the Dark Horde had faced, and well behind the walls of his consciousness, he felt a glimmer of true fear.

"Watch as the world around you collapses!" the Lich King bellowed, thrusting his death-empowered blade into the central ice-covered slab of the great fortress, and the ground beneath them rumbled and shook. Lunging forward, Teg'Ramm could feel great chunks of the ice give way, plummeting into the nothing all around them.

The others had recovered swifter than the Ogre Lord, and already returned to the fight in earnest, even as Teg'Ramm hesitated. Something, he could not place what, felt off about this entire confrontation. But his musing were interrupted as the winged fiends of the Lich King appeared to aid their lord.

"Val'kyr, your master calls!" the armored warrior commanded, even as the flying battle-maidens swooped down, trying to carry off members of their force, or else landing heavily and engaging with those who were not facing their master directly.

The one who dared approach Lord Nobu'tan were incinerated on the spot, and Teg'Ramm snapped out of his stupor in time to hurl a bolt of chaos into the back of another trying to carry off Malfoy. Refocusing on the Lich King, Teg'Ramm knew that he had to give in to the wild rampage that the Fel in his body demanded, if he was to aid effectively in this battle. He was never the strongest caster of the Black Harvest, his strength was in his bulk and augmentations, and he had long accepted that.

Willingly, he gave into the power to protect the one he was sworn to, and the ever-burning rage welled up inside him. His eyes blazing behind walls of Felfire, he charged, spells leaping off Ramm's tongue even as Teg bullied his way into the thick of the melee, the soul-drinking blade of the Lich King glancing off his encrusted claws.

The armored corpse seemed to be surprised, even as the sheer strength of Teg's counterattack knocked him backward, shattering stone and ice beneath the Lich King's feet. Hammering again and again in his fury, Teg started to feel the strength of his opponent start to buckle, the cursed blade held up to try and ward off the worse of his hammering strikes. The magic went unfettered, striking home against the sides and back of the Lich King, forcing his own allies back and giving them all a moment to breathe.

In his mind, Teg suspected that this would at last be his grand sacrifice, destroying the Lich King and saving them all from mortal peril. Using that to drive him forward, he continued ramming the smaller being backward, and pushing to try and throw both of them off the edge of the citadel. Undead or not, the fall would destroy the body of the Lich King, and that would sunder his power, if not kill him outright. It would be a worthy death, and honorable one.

He was so single-mindedly focused on this outcome, that Teg'Ramm did not see the counter swing coming, and took the blade in his unarmored side, the blade digging deeply into his muscle and fat there. Not enough to truly harm him, but just enough pain to momentarily stun him, and give the Lich King precious seconds to attack.

"Frostmourne hungers…"

A searing moment of intense pain, and Teg felt his soul stretching, almost being split in two as the being of Ramm, his other half, was ripped partially from his body and into the blade itself.

He saw two locations at once, a spiritual world within the realm of the blade, and the real world outside, even as the Lich King slammed an armored boot into his chest and sent his body flying. Teg'Ramm was so stunned by this that he fell limply.

Within the ethereal world, Ramm saw the ghosts that surrounded the Lich King, including one more regal than the others, a king of some sort. The human eyed his half-formed presence questioningly. "You have come to bring Arthas to justice? To see the Lich King destroyed?" he asked.

In the strange, stretched state, Ramm could not answer, but his intent seemed apparent, as the human nodded as though hearing his. "First, you must escape Frostmourne's hold, or be damned as I am; trapped within the cursed blade for all eternity."

Naturally, the next thought running through Ramm's mind was how they were supposed to accomplish that, but suddenly the spirits all around became aware of his semi-presence, and turned on him with angry vengeance.

Flames did not manifest in Ramm's hand, but his command over shadow remained. Tapping into it immediately, the magically gifted side of the Ogre Lord unleashed a volley of spear-shaped bolts, striking spirit after spirit, and feeling the hold from the Lich King weaken with every spirit that withdrew into the blade.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Line Break ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Teron Gorefiend, watching from his high vantage of the Dark Horde's lookout in the central part of Icecrown, waited for the signal for his clan to lead their reinforcements into battle. He had not been in favor of holding back when they were assaulting the bastion of the undead in this place, but Nobu'tan had wanted to preserve their strength over the undead, limiting it to just the Blightbringer Clan at first, a force that the Scourge were already aware of, and hold the far more experienced necromantic clan in reserve.

Teron did not think it wise, but he accepted Nobu'tan's commands as the Acting Warchief in this campaign. He would however, he high recommending that the Grand Warlock quickly select a new candidate that the Dark Horde could rally behind, so that he could focus on the things that mattered for their peoples, rather than have the entire burden placed on his shoulders alone.

A blast of sparks inside the innermost courtyard heralded the signal, and Teron raised his jeweled truncheon, the symbol of his power and the source of his command over death. "Rise up Shadowmoon, we ride into the pale face of death itself!"

The others among his vanguard, Death Knights and Necrolytes all, rose up on the drake mounts that they had secretly plundered from the vast graveyard of the Dragonblight, stolen right under the Scourge's nose. The undead dragons were bent to the wills of their riders, and swooped forward with noxious vapor on their breath.

Tearing over the walls, Teron's mount ripped a pair of necromancers from the parapets with its claws, crushing them and letting the lifeless bodies plummet to the ground, before wheeling about to get a good look at the full situation.

The undead were swarming from well beyond the last held position of their allies, cutting off any chance of a ground force reaching them. Alliance and Kalimdor Horde warriors poured from portals opened near the entrance of the citadel, and with the Dark Horde now taking to the air, they stood a strong chance, but the tide against them was endless.

There was one course remaining: the Death Knights of two clans must unite to sway more of their foes from the grasp of the Scourge, turning the undead horde against itself, and buying them more time unmolested within their walls.

"Shadowmoon, take the walls! Drive back the undead mongrels into their own ranks!" he said, his cold voice seething over the chill wind of battle, and his mount leapt higher into the sky, allowing the Gorefiend to survey all the undead before him. Gathering his power, the ancient magic that he held long before this Lich King was formed on this world; the first Death Knight stretched his hand toward the tide of corpses, and pushed his will over them.

The senses of the gnawing, biting, fettered mass jolted into his consciousness, and he gave them only one command: destroy. As one, the undead turned upon their nearest targets, and started to rip and rend those former allies of theirs, ghouls leaping upon the necromancer masters, and skeletons swarming the greater abominations and undead nerubians that waited for the fodder to soften the lines of their enemies.

Landing with a heavy crash on the wall of the Horror Gate, his mount roaring with its own fury, Teron let his power wash out across the valley before him. At his side, more of the Shadowmoon descended, adding their power to his own, and creating a great bulwark of Scourge minions to buffer the main force of their enemies from their living allies.

The task was daunting, and Teron could feel the domination of the Lich King trying to reach for them, but they were free undead, much like the Forsaken of the Kalimdor Horde, they could not be controlled, as much as the master of the Scourge wished it were so.

They had driven a rift in the midst of the oncoming horde, cutting off the strongest of the Scourge forces, but unable to prevent the rest from washing over the defenders, but they at least need not worry of the hulking giant abominations and the powerful souls of long lost heroes that had been turned into champions of the Scourge.

That task accomplished, Teron was able to turn his attention to the more pressing matter. Looking upward, he fixed his dead eyes on the summit of the Citadel, where he could feel that battle raging between his Lord and the Lich King. Fel and Unholy magic flew liberally, amid the torrents of other living forces that contended with the master of the Scourge.

Teron knew that his place was here, but something told him, urged him, to kick his mount into the air, and speed upward toward the source of the magic, that his presence was needed to help forestall some horrid result that the whole world did not wish to see occur.

Was this the call of prophecy, that others among the Dark Horde had whispered in dark places surrounded their youthful leader. He would not permit superstition to thwart his advance, however the flock of Frost Wyrms guarding the upper reaches of the Citadel would certainly be a hindrance.

Reaching out with his power over death, Teron struck one of the smaller Wyrms dead with a spell, even as his mount spun out of the icy jet from another, trying in vain to press further upward. He was forced off course as two more smaller drakes tried to ram his mount, forcing him to dive, and roll out of another onslaught.

Even as he tried a third time to ascend, Teron felt the overwhelming blast of death magic, and most of the living energy atop of the citadel snuff out in a flash. "NO!" he cried, allowing fear and rage to burn through him. Magic washed liberally, shredding the wyrms as they approached, and granting him opportunity to continue upward.

Rising over the summit of the Frozen Throne, Teron gaped in horror. All were slain by the hand of the Lich King, aside from Nobu'tan alone, as well as some other figure frozen in a solid block of ice. The armored Lord of the Dead was already advancing on the Grand Warlock, who had slipped into his true form of part demon, part human.

Knowing that if Nobu'tan fell, their world was doomed, Teron allowed himself to fall from the mount's saddle, diving at the pair of dueling figures. His own wings flared outward, the strange addition to his newest reformed body cushioning the impact, and allowing him to lash out like an avenging angel from the sky, truncheon striking and deflecting the sword away from the warlock.

Refusing to allow his new foe a moment to recover, Teron allowed a surge of necromancy to flare out from him, raising the two allies that his magic alone could bring back. From the prison of the runeblade, the Death Knight Voldemort and his servant rose, their weapons ready as the three undead servants of the Dark Horde faced off against the Lord of the Scourge.

"No questions remain unanswered." The Lich King said, "No doubts linger. You ARE Azeroth's greatest champions. But is it truly righteousness that drives you? I wonder…"