This chapter felt like it was going to be late... but I did manage at last to pull through with a respectable direction that felt in tune with how the characters are progressing. Enjoy! ~F

Chapter 183

The Scythe of Elune

Lucius was not pleased with the instructions that Narcissa had given him, to take Draco and Aurora and continue preparing to go to Theramore ahead of her, while she helped the Night Elf High Priestess with her journey. She had said she expected to meet them on the dock before the ship left in three days, but Lucius was not desirous to depart completely without his wife.

Draco, ever the dutiful son, was entertaining Aurora for Lucius, who otherwise would be enthralled by his daughter's antics and therefore unable to get the necessities for their trip together. Still, he couldn't repress the warm smile spreading across his face as he heard the little girl singing at the top of her lungs downstairs, some half-childish gibbering and half-sea folk song that Draco had brought back and sang to her as she slept from time to time.

Truth be told, Lucius was worried about departing at this time, with all that was supposedly going on around the Dark Horde and their enemies in both Alliance and Kalimdor. But he had specifically requested this time, and at the same time as he cared for protecting Nobu'tan, even from himself, his family took priority, and Theramore would be an excellent place for them to be, outside the chaos that might happen any day now that all forces had returned from Northrend.

With long sweeps of his wand, Lucius summoned all the items that he felt both he and Narcissa would need on a voyage across the sea, as well as what personal niceties they needed for an extended stay across the world. Technically, he could easily transport himself back if he forgot anything, after setting his gaze on the isle of the Sorceress, but he wanted to spend their time relaxing and being together, rather than concerned over the trivialities of life and material possessions.

"I need to return to the Keep, and make sure that Anduin is taken care of for while we are gone," Draco said, once Lucius returned to the ground floor, even as Aurora padded over to him, tugging gently on his robes to be lifted into Lucius' arms.

"Alright, we still have to go shop in the Trade District, and there are a few families to visit still, before we are ready for your mother to return…" Lucius said, trying not to be distracted by his daughter's pleading eyes for them to go out to the shopping area of the city immediately.

Draco nodded, before departing, and finally Lucius was required to acknowledge his daughter's desires. "We need to have lunch first, then we will go out…" he said, unable to keep from smiling as she squealed in delight. The cold visage he had maintained for years in old Terra was utterly shattered by the power that little Aurora had over him, Lucius noted, and even as they entered the kitchen, he knew that it was only because of the greatness of Azeroth and its magic that allowed this joy to have entered his life.

He had to make sure that Aurora had enough to eat before they left, or else she would be overly spoiled by all the ladies out in the Trade District, who saw the radiant energy that his little jewel had in her innocent curiosity. The treats that she would inevitably get would spoil any meal that came after the trip.

Within ten minutes, everything was ready and Aurora was tugging at him toward the door with pleading eyes and the whine of "Daddy, come on!"

Oh how she had him wrapped around her finger, Lucius thought with a chuckle. He would move heavens and earth to see her smile, and, in the back of his mind that remembered the old days of serving Voldemort, woe be unto any who would dare risk harming his precious jewel.

|…The Stormreaver…|

Ash'alah padded along swiftly, easily keeping pace with the worgen and the horse of Lady Malfoy as together they wound through the forest of Duskwood. Tyrande was quite surprised that the human woman was staying with them thoughout their time here, rather than returning to her family in Stormwind. To say Tyrande was impressed would be an overstatement, but the woman's diligence was welcome nonetheless.

The High Priestess was not certain how much she could trust these Worgen, but something about their earnest and grim leader reminded her of her Beloved, when he was on the warpath against enemies of the Wilds. In light of that resemblance, she could not but offer her support, especially if it meant aid in return when they entered the Dream to search for Malfurion.

Soon, they arrived at the sloping ridge that climbed up to the abandoned mines and the Worgen leader, Lupin, ground to a halt. Raising his head and sniffing around, he snarled, before pressing on ahead with his people, their forms shimmering as they changed into graceful feline forms and disappearing into the shadows on either side of the road.

"I suppose we are to continue while they remove unseen sentries on either side of us," Lady Malfoy said, producing a wand of slender wood from her robes, and snapping the reins of her horse to urge it forward.

The Sentinels surged ahead, glaives and bows at the ready. Not until the cave itself was in sight did they see the first of their opponents, a feral worgen that charged them with wild abandon, uncaring of the volley of projectiles that met it. It fell with a yelp, but the damage was done as more of the wild worgen poured out of the mine.

Lady Malfoy wrapped a shield of magic around herself, even as Tyrande called upon the blessing of Elune, charging her arrows with the wrath of the Goddess. The worgen stood little chance against the priestesses of Elune, and Tyrande spotted the druids slip in and attack them from behind, cutting off any chance that they had to escape back into the cave. Tyrande approved, as it would be significantly harder to oust them from the narrow tunnels.

One of the druids, larger than the others, dove into the cave itself, even as the others worked to mop up the remaining feral wolves. Despite the unworthiness of the fight, Tyrande found it to be something of a warmup for whatever awaited them at the Emerald Gateway to the northwest.

"So now we simply wait until Lupin finds whatever artifact that he seeks?" Lady Malfoy said.

"Those more in tune with the natural world will find what they seek far better than us," Tyrande replied, sensing that the other woman was only starting to ask her seeking questions.

"You seem to have a great deal of understanding about these types of druids…" the woman said, smiling coolly at her with a knowing look.

"My Beloved is the greatest of the druids of our people," Tyrande said proudly, "his loss within the Dream has been devastating to our people, and any opportunity to return him to would revitalize the spirit of the Kaldorei."

"Not to mention yourself, of course," the woman replied, striking a the heart of Tyrande's true feelings with the precision of a marksman.

"Yes… my heart would be greatly eased if we find him and return him to the waking world." She admitted.

"I could understand the desperation. If my Lucius was lost to me, I would stop at nothing to bring him home to my family, where he belongs." Lady Malfoy agreed.

Normally, Tyrande would have scoffed at the idea of one of the younger races truly understanding what she had gone through in her thousands of years keeping vigil while Malfurion slept, but somehow this woman spoke with a knowledge that was far deeper than she would have expected.

"Where are your people from, for you to have such a weight of grief in your words," Tyrande asked, unable to resist the desire to understand the strange woman's perspective.

"Our world is long gone, consumed by the Legion, much as we had said before. We were forced, not only to watch silently as the demons overran our world, but to fight against our own people for survival hinged on the mercy of the demons." The woman said slowly, watching Tyrande for her reaction, "Nobu'tan above all had terrible decisions to make, forced upon him as a child to young to really consider the ramifications of what he was getting into."

A baying howl silenced the two women, even as they turned to the pathway that they had traveled, "Alas," Tyrande said, "I think we will have to hold the location until your associate Lupin has discovered what he sought here."

"Yes, it does seem that way," Lady Malfoy said, swishing her wand and causing a crackle of magic to linger in its wake.

The first wolves were already mounting the rise of the road as Tyrande loosed another arrow, and Lady Malfoy slung a spell at another of the worgen, knocking them back and beginning the next skirmish to hold the mine that they had already claimed.

|…The Stormreaver…|

Blaise was fully aware that Lady Garona was using their creation of the Shadowblade Clan as a distraction for herself. The female part-orc's love for her son was, for those who knew what to look for, extremely apparent on her face, and with him so far away she was clearly anxious about his welfare.

Therefore, she had thrown herself into the thick of training their new assassins and infiltrators, recruiting from orc clans, troll tribes, and even the most talented of the ogres that she could find in and around Blackrock Mountain. Granted, her zeal in that matter had freed Blaise to focus on developing the special talents of those members of their clan that also had aptitude for the Fel. Additionally, he had his work cut out for him managing the various missions and assignments that their spy network would have to fill in order to start covering the entirety of their domain with eyes and ears loyal to Nobu'tan through the Shadow Blade.

As though his thoughts rang out across the mountain, the Grand Warlock appeared in a flash of Felflames near to Blaise, and the master assassin turned with a inclination of his head in acknowledgement. "Nobu'tan, welcome."

"Tenebrous," the warlock replied, the clear signal that he was here on official business, and not for a social visit or things of a private nature. "There is a coming threat that needs to be monitored. I can think of no better official operation for your clan than this…"

"The Shadow Blade is at your command, Lord Nobu'tan," Blaise replied, rising and following as the unofficial leader of the Dark Horde wove his mastery of the Fel, opening a gateway to the top of the surrounding mountains to their north. Blaise could tell that they were upon the boarder of their dwarven enemies, because of the snow-topped peaks in the far distance, but Nobu'tan directed his gaze nearer.

Spotting the dwarves, and their new attempt to pierce into the sovereign lands of the Dark Horde, Blaise sighed aloud, "You would think they would learn after the first dozen times they were rebuffed…"

"Dwarves are among the most stubborn of races on Azeroth," Nobu'tan said with a shrug. "Alas, until they actually enter our lands, we cannot make a move on them, not without provoking the Alliance into a war that I doubt even Varian wants…"

"So we're to monitor for the moment that they invade, and destroy them all…" Blaise surmised, grinning.

"And then deposit their actions right at the feet of the King of Stormwind, fraying the already strained relationship between their kingdom and the dwarves… relatives or not, there is always some part of it that makes or breaks a family…" Nobu'tan added with a sinister grin.

"I will have a constant rotation of agents here, watching their movements. We will know they have arrived before they do themselves…" Blaise promised, even as they returned to Blackrock Mountain to prepare for the eventual incursion.

Before passing back through the portal, however, Blaise stopped and glanced across the nearby peaks. Was it his imagination, or had he spotted something moving on the desolate rocks around them, watching them as much as the dwarves far below… he would have to make sure that the most vigilant of his agents were placed here, if hidden eyes were already afoot.

Once Nobu'tan departed, Blaise made his way to the training chamber of the Shadow Blade, catching Garona's eye as she was going through advanced combat techniques with the assassins. They would have to confer in order to know the very best of their clan to send first to this new watch post on the northern border.

That was the beauty of their co-chieftain status, what he lacked in knowledge, Garona more than made up for in raw experience handling the members of the Dark Horde and their temperaments.

|…The Stormreaver…|

Remus wove his way around the flood of wild Worgen that were storming up out of the mines to confront the elves and his other druids. Able to tap into the power of the wilds, he could sense the residual power that was in this place, dormant and hidden from sight.

Clearly, the nature of the Worgen was insufficient compared to the training of a druid in order to sense the presence of this artifact that the wolf cult sought. He was sure that he would find it, but it would be a tedious process to search through every tunnel and crevice already picked over for an untold time.

Judging from the corners that the wild wolves were already flooding out of, he prioritized the sections that they were already neglecting, utilizing his keen senses in the feline form to feel his way forward in the near darkness and slowly home in on the artifact.

Soon, the worgen inside were mostly depleted, other than those who had become too afraid to venture out of the cave, which told Remus that the Night Elves had to be formidable foes. With significantly fewer of the wolf cult members left inside the mine, traversing it became far easier, and Remus grew bolder.

Sliding into one of the main tunnels of the abandoned mine, he fell among a trio of these cowards, raking one of them with a forepaw as he latched onto another with his jaws, digging deeply to cause as much pain and bleeding as possible.

The slashed Worgen fell with a howl of pain, scrambling to put distance between them and return to his hind paws, even as the untouched wolf fled, heading for the entrance and its probable doom. The final worgen struggled weakly in Remus' jaws, before with an audible crack, the spinal column severed, the body falling limp with the neck hanging limply.

Rising to his feet, resuming his natural state, Remus towered over the fallen worgen, the scent of the beast's urine filling the air as fear overtook it in the face of a powerful pack alpha. Stepping past him, however, Remus started to follow another scent, something faint, yet wild and untamed. Moreso, it seemed to be calling him, echoing with the deep recesses of the mine, desperate for one so touched with the magic of nature.

As he reached the back of the mine, deserted by the feral worgen who had already fled his warth and that of the elves, and Remus discovered something unusual. In a forgettable, corner of the chamber, mostly undisturbed by tools or fevered paws digging the loose stone, something seemed to give off an invisible aura of power, and with gritty paws Remus shifted aside boulders and loose dirt, revealing a shining curved blade, attached to an ancient wooden shaft.

Digging swiftly, Remus uncovered the shoulder high scythe, which despite its position and the time it was supposedly lost showed no signs of age or rust. The weapon hummed with power in his hands, warmth creeping up his arm as though the scythe was accepting him, rather than the other way around.

Starting back to the entrance, the prize of the Wolf Cult recovered, and now safely out of their reach, Remus paused at the wounded Worgen that he had left to bleed out on the stone floor. The Scythe seemed to hum as he approached, resonating with the cursed wolf in the feral beast.

Instinctively knowing what was needed of him, he pointed the head of the Scythe at the wolf, and in a flash of wild power the control and curse of the wolf departed the creature. His fur paled, and the insanity in his eyes cleared. Staring up at Remus, the formerly wild worgen fell silent, before rising slowly to his feet, and following in the wake of the Archdruid.

Exiting the cave, his newest follower in tow, Remus surveyed the aftermath of the battle. None of the elves, his druids, or even Lady Malfoy, lay among the fallen. Instead, they had already secured the entrance of the mine, and were fending off a counterattack from the Wolf Cult, who seemed desperate to retake this place.

Remus wondered what they had been hoping to claim, as the Scythe held no allegiance except to those it claimed, and it was unlikely that they would have one worthy of using the power of the Scythe. Striking the haft of the Scythe on the ground hard, roots and vine surved from the surrounding trees, enveloping the worgen closest to the sides of the path, binding them in place as Remus advanced toward the battle.

"The artifact is claimed," he declared, rallying his druids, even as the feral worgen started to back away from him, the scent of his power magnified by the possession of the powerful weapon. "Submit, flee, or die," he ordered, watching the remaining wolves with cold calculation.

Most chose the second option, scrambling with their tails between their legs, but the largest snarled and snapped its jaws, speaking in a rough voice that had to have been difficult through the wild rush of the curse. "Alpha Prime will be coming for you… little druid…" he forced out, before turning and departing swiftly as well.

"I take it we are finished here?" Lady Malfoy said, but Remus' eyes met the shine of the Night Elf Priestess, curious at the wonder in the shining blue orbs.

"The Scythe of Elune…" she breathed, starting to reach a hand for the artifact, before halting and pulling it back, "Your people are indeed a fascinating group, to have so much power and mystery swirl around you in droves."

"The curse of being born possessing magic within us, to counteract the blessing that it is…" Lady Malfoy explained away. Remus was not so sure that was the only case, but there did seem to be some manner of merit that those of Earth had a certain attraction to circumstance and accident when it came to powerful magics. Nobu'tan himself was a prime example of the dangers of their very existence.

"You have fulfilled your bargain," Remus said to the Night Elf, "And now we shall fulfill ours, lead the way to this Emerald Gateway, and let us see about recovering your Archdruid from its grasp."

|…The Stormreaver…|

Draco had to suppress a chuckle at Anduin's very unprincely antics. The boy normally had a very cool, regal demeanor, but once you were familiar with him and his tells, the boy was as easy to read as anyone.

And currently, the Prince of Stormwind was pouting.

"Will you make sure Jaina receives my gift for her?" he asked for the third time since Draco arrived, and he nodded, patting the satchel with preserved fruit and trinkets that were very Stormwind in origin and likely not available on the Kalimdor island.

"And when will you and your family return?" Anduin pressed, attempting to prolongue the time Draco stayed by replaying the same conversation line over again. Normally, Draco would have played along, but he knew that time was short, and the parting wouldn't be any easier later rather than sooner. "Anduin… you know you can't stall me here with the same questions over and over…"

"But can't I come with you?" the boy pleaded, straying dangerously close to a whine, not that Draco would have cared. That was why Anduin had grown so fond of him over the years. Draco never treated Anduin solely as the Prince of Stormwind. Certainly he was, and a certain level of decorum was required, so long as other eyes were on them. But here, in the Princes private room behind closed doors, he was just a boy like any other. Actually, more like Draco in his youth than even Draco himself wanted to admit.

It was no surprise that his parents had gravitated to Anduin when Varian was absent. They clearly saw a version of their own son in the young Prince, and they treated him like another version of Draco, doting on him in their own way that still managed to have him raised up respectfully and with his duty fully understood.

"That's not a decision I can make, and you know that," Draco gently reminded the young Prince.

Before the next wave of protests could start, however, the door to Anduin's room opened, and King Varian entered, smiling warmly at the pair of them. "Lord Malfoy, wrapping up your farewells I hope? The ship leaves in only three days for Theramore, am I correct?"

"It does, your Majesty," Draco affirmed.

"Father, I request permission to also go visit Theramore, I'm sure Aunt Jaina wouldn't mind…" Anduin said, but Varian was already shaking his head.

"Not this time, my son. There is another opportunity that I want you to take part in, but it won't be available until well after the Malfoy's have departed. You need more patience, not everything happens in the timing or way that we desire."

"Yes, Father," Anduin said, lowering his head in dejection, and Varian gestured for Draco to follow him out of the prince's quarters.

"I only said that for your benefit," Varian said as they started back to the main rooms of the Keep, "The boy would pester you to death if he knew I was actually sending him along to Theramore…"

"I will continue to look after him, in your absence," Draco said, receiving a smile of appreciation from the King in return.

"In your opinion, what kind of man will my son become, be completely honest…" Varian said suddenly, pausing in the small internal garden area of the Keep.

"He will be a strong leader," Draco replied without hesitation, "but he is not the same as you are, Sire."

"Describe the difference, please, I want to see if my own assessment is jaded by being his father, or not," Varian urged, and Draco nodded.

"He isn't as unyielding in his pursuit of justice as you are; there is room for a great deal of mercy in him. Forgiveness for true repentance is there, and chances for trust to be restored. He cares for the people around him, dearly, and I think that that aspect he will exceed even the ruthlessness that you show your enemies, if those he cares about are threatened… he…" Draco paused, stifling the thought he was about to express.

"Go on…" Varian urged, "I can handle whatever comparisons or observations you have, so long as they are your honest feelings."

"He is very much like Nobu'tan in that regard," Draco continued, "honest like him too, but more gentle." Turning to face the King eye to eye, Draco added, "He will not be a warrior like you are, my Lord, but something more."

Varian nodded, "I agree with the majority of your assessment, and it matches my own. Anduin does not have the coldness of a warrior's heart. He is too alive, too diligent in his pursuit of peace…"

"It is an enviable disposition, for many," Draco countered, but Varian shook his head.

"I do not believe that it is something the future King of Stormwind can afford, not in our troubled times… As much as I appreciate the similarities you draw between us and your friend Nobu'tan, I doubt others would see it that way. Surrounded by enemies and potential enemies on all sides, it will not be long before the Dark Horde is pushed into full-blown war. I do not think Anduin would be suitable to manage such a thing."

"So you want us to take him away for a time, and hope that this matter is resolved before we come back from Theramore," Draco deduced.

"If only it would be that simple," Varian replied, "but I do wish for that… with Moira and her Dark Irons baying for his blood, not to mention the threat of the Banshee Queen from the North, it could be a long siege."

"If that does come to pass, you'll need us at your side, to make sure that as little bloodshed as possible occurs." Draco warned.

"Well cross that bridge only when needed," Varian said, turning his head slightly as Draco spotted Anduin emerging from his room and walking slowly in their direction. "We had better give him the surprise, or else there'll be no end to his moaping…"

"I'll make my way back to my parent's place, make certain that everything is ready for when mother returns." Draco said, and Varian patted his arm as they separated.

As he exited the Keep, Draco imagined that he could hear the cheering of Anduin as his father spoiled the surprise of him going to Theramore as well.

It would be an interesting series of weeks that they would have, isolated on the remote isle in the middle of Kalimdor.

|…The Stormreaver…|

Narcissa rode gracefully alongside the Night Elves and the werewolves, suitable hiding her own discomfort of the creature carrying her.

Similarly hidden was here intense discomfort being so near to Remus Lupin. Currently aiding Lady Whisperwind or not, it did nothing to forestall the memories of the devestation tha the mad werewolf had done in his part of fighting against the Legion takeover of their homeworld, especially a choice encounter that she had chosen to withhold from Draco, and even Lucius.

There had been a time, only one in all the battles and ambushes on old Earth that Narcissa's life had been threatened, and it was by Remus Lupin himself. Only through quick thinking on Narcissa's part, as well as the timely attack of the Legion on a place of importance to the wolf, that had spared her life that time. She was unwilling to give Lupin another shot, for whatever reason.

Choosing to put that issue to the back of her mind, Narcissa refocused on the current objective, getting the Night Elves to their Emerald Portal so that they could search for their Archdruid.

The paths were clear as the strange group of nightsabers, werewolves, and one horse trotted toward the central mountain ridge, finding the narrow path easily enough. It wound its way around the circle of rock, pass through a narrow gap and into a large forested glade inside, where an ethereal gateway seemed to grow right out of the massive central tree.

"How did something like this grow here, in the center of a human controlled region?" Narcissa asked, gazing at the beauty that surrounded this place, right under their noses.

"Long before humans came to these lands, all the world was ruled by the ancient Night Elf Empire…" Tyrande said, pointing down at a stone pool of sparkling water, "a Moonwell, the clear marking of our people's presence."

"Hmm," Narcissa replied, moderately impressed at the simplicity of the answer, but before she could respond her attention was back to the portal itself. Something was exiting the gateway, large and mottled green.

"It is as I had feared," Tyrande said, "We must slay another of the corrupted Green flight in order to enter the Dream… curse the vile taint of the satyrs…"

Narcissa held back as the Elves and werewolves approached the dragon, and it roared in defiance. This engagement was not hers to participate in, unless the utmost need was presented. These warriors were far more attuned to this style of combat. Narcissa was here only to facilitate their quick location of this place, and bear witness of the events in the place of King Varian.

Tyrande must have had sufficient experience facing these kinds of corrupted dragons, as the battle was significantly shorter than Narcissa expected it to be. From the sorrow that was clear in the High Priestess' eyes as she gazed at the fallen dragon, Narcissa could tell that this beast was once close to her, or at least known to her.

Finally, they gathered around the Emerald Gateway, its shimmering surface seeming to vibrate with life energy. "If my Beloved is not here, then I know not where we might find him," Tyrande said, the strain present in her voice.

"He will be here," Narcissa said, assuring her as Lupin led the way into the swirling vortex.

|…The Stormreaver…|

Garrosh was torn on the return of his close friend Med'an.

On the one hand, he would be a closely trusted advisor as Garrosh slowly stepped into more leadership roles within the Horde, but he had been gone a long time, and his close ties to the Dark Horde did not sit well with Garrosh.

Nothing that was tied in any way to Gul'dan, and through him Nobu'tan, would be good for the Horde. And if Med'an had a favorable opinion of the warlock, then Garrosh wasn't certain if he could trust his friends opinion.

He therefore spent a lot of time in The Wyvern's Tail, thinking and drinking. Sometimes Commander Gor'shak and his friend Gorosh would visit with him there, easily affirming his choice to be wary, although they did remind him that he ought to give a friend the benefit of the doubt first.

Only then did Garrosh relent, seeing the sense of their words and choosing to keep him opinions reserved for the time being. He was certain that, due to his previous actions and lack of tact, no one was unaware of his preferences, but he would cease for a time, let others be comfortable around him. It was how he imagined that Dranosh would have behaved, if he had lived to be in Garrosh's place.

Truly, he had found himself thinking of Saurfang the Younger a lot lately. Judging what he felt was right versus what would align with the other orc's sense of justice and fairness within the Horde.

Those thoughts had made Garrosh bite his tongue many times, and he was certain that certain of the Elders of the Horde had begun to notice. Chief among these was the old bull, Cairne Bloodhoof. The Tauren had started off very standoffish toward Garrosh and his thoughts when he was first selected by Thrall to work toward taking over the mantle of Warchief. But over time, the wise creature had taken notice of the genuine attempt to control his hotheadedness and had responded, interacting more and more with Garrosh and offering advice when the young Mag'har had sought for it.

That was why, in light of all the evidence pushing him to let go of his heavy distrust of Med'an, he decided to take a side trip via Zepplin across the Barrens, bound for the greener lands of Mulgore and the home of the Tauren. If anyone could help him see clearly, it would be the wisest of the Horde leaders, and the creature that had nothing to gain from choosing one side over another. Like him or not, Cairne Bloodhoof wouldn't lead him astray if Garrosh asked his honest opinion.

The Tauren war braves were surprised to see Garrosh, the champion of the Horde, arrive at their zeppelin dock, but he only gave them a courteous nod as he disembarked, starting down the massive totem at the center of the plateau city and turned toward the Elder's Rise.

It was hard to read the bovine face of the Tauren for Garrosh, but he felt that he correctly interpreted the surprise and shock on Chieftain Bloodhoof's face as he approached his tent in the center of the middle rise.

"Garrosh Hellscream, Ishne'alo'porah." Cairne said, stepping forward and clasping Garrosh's free hand.

"High Chieftain," Garrosh replied, "I know that my arrival is something of a shock…"

"Something of a shock you say, my war braves were nearly tripping over themselves when the champion of the Horde himself arrived at our humble mesa…" the old Tauren rumbled a laugh, "But yes, I am indeed exceedingly curious as to your presence."

"Yes, not to compound the shock, but I am here for your advice…" Garrosh said, "Warchief Thrall always takes your wisdom as something extremely serious and of great importance, and I would dishonor him and the rest of the Horde if I did not recognize it in my own hour of need."

"Walk we me, young one, and tell me of your troubles," the Tauren said, turning to lead the way in a long patrol of the outskirts of Thunder Bluff.

"I find myself very torn on the return of my close friend Med'an, and his connections to the Dark Horde…" Garrosh started, after making sure that the onlookers of the Tauren were keeping a respectful distance from the two Horde leaders, although the young calves would smile and wave as they passed. The Old Bull always made sure to respond to the youngsters, but it did not break his stride as they started across the first of the many rope bridges that separated the various districts of the elevated city. "Nothing touching the warlock Nobu'tan and his Fel magic makes me rest easy…"

"I can understand the reservation against trusting something that has caused nothing but trouble for your people…" Cairne replied, even as they entered the Elder's Rise, where Druids and Shaman withdrew to attune themselves to the powers of the earth.

Pointing to one of the tents, now empty and somewhat ragged, Cairne continued, "Long had an enemy of my people resided here, Magatha Grimtotem, of the tribe of Tauren who have time and again tried to wipe out the Bloodhoofs and establish their own rule over our people."

Garrosh frowned, "Why would you keep someone so dangerous so close? What would stop her from making another attempt on your life?"

"Because, so long as Magatha was here, Thunder Bluff was safe from attacks by her people, and peace was kept among the Tauren, however uneasy it was held." Cairne explained, sorrow in his voice, "and also, because deep in her heart, I know that the Matriarch of the Grimtotem only wants what she thinks is best for our people, and if she could just see that the Horde would be the best path forward for the survival of our people."

"I can't imagine trying to win over an enemy to my cause," Garrosh said, utterly astonished at the very concept, "It must have taken immense levels of patience…"

"Daily," Cairne affirmed, "and until she was stolen away during the one of the Dark Horde's early attacks, which we know was caused by a rogue element within their faction, I had suspicions that I was getting through to her…"

"I do not wish to seem ungrateful, but I'm not seeing how this connects to my situation, Chieftain," Garrosh said, struggling to wrap his mind around what had been shared, and whether it tied back to him and Med'an.

"Your problem, Garrosh, is not between you and Med'an, nor even between you and the Dark Horde…" Cairne said gently, placing a weathered hand on the shoulder of the Mag'har, "You are facing and internal struggle to come to terms with what has happened to your people, the demons that haunt the orcish race, literally and metaphorically."

"I… but… I don't understand…" Garrosh stammered, completely caught off guard by the old bull.

"You've read the records, and seen in vision what happened between Thrall, your father, and the demon Manneroth." Cairne said, "Still, you've struggled to come to terms that the warlocks now, loyal to the Horde, the Dark Horde, or even the Alliance, are not the same as those warlocks that transformed your people into the raving monsters that first came to this world; that turned your father into one of those monsters…"

"The same magic runs through their veins, the same power that would corrupt us all if it could." Garrosh said, seething at the thought of the warlock's Fel power.

"That is true," Cairne said, cutting through his thoughts with the calmness of his words, "but so long as those practitioners are careful, and continue to fight against the demonic Legion, we can at least reasonably trust that they will police their own."

"The Dark Horde actively uses the Fel in order to maintain their control of their faction," Garrosh countered.

"And yet, they fought the hardest against the Legion when we all went to war in Outland," Cairne pointed out, "those that delve the closest to a dangerous thing know the most about it, and are generally the most wary."

"I suppose there is a certain amount of trust that has to be given to those who are masters of that magic, so long as they have proven themselves not to be seeking their own power…" Garrosh admitted, "but I would sleep more safely knowing that we had some manner of failsafe if the worst was to happen, and they or those demons they consort with turned on us at the worst moment."

"The best method of preparing against an unknown, is to learn more about it," Cairne affirmed.