Summer approaches! Hopefully more time to get ahead on the writing and slowly work back towards being able to post more frequently, but we shall see! Still, Read and enjoy! ~F

Chapter 184

Potential Alliances

Nobu'tan felt more than confident in the newly formed Shadow Blade Clan's skill to monitor the dwarves and their activity, so much so that he could turn his mind to other matters. In the midst of the movement of the Dark Horde, there were a few less firmly affiliated groups, which Nobu'tan needed to monitor and prepare for larger and more important tasks.

Firstly was a message to draft, for Edwin Vancleef and his masons, to direct them safely back through into Arathi, now that their long series of sieges were ended on Thoradin's Wall. He desired to send them further toward the Forsaken's fortress, and reinforce Fenris Isle and its keep. Perhaps sending aid to the wolves under Lupins command would earn some favor from their former enemy.

Secondly, albeit distantly, was the various warlock covens and cults through Azeroth had likely been left in the lurch for some time between the attacks from Outland and Northrend. They needed to be checked on to see if the swelling Order of the Black Harvest was proceeding with learning all that they could about the Fel and how best to turn it against the Legion when they eventually would strike again at Azeroth.

Nobu'tan did not believe that their defeat of Kil'jaeden at the Sunwell was even close to the end of the Legion's attempts to claim the jewel of their Burning Crusade. To that end, the best method of fighting the Fel was in understanding how best to use it against the demons, and turn them on each other.

From what missives he had received from the coven of Stormwind, they had sent feelers out to the dwarven city of Ironforge, where a smaller cabal of gnomish warlocks that interested in the workings of the Black Harvest. These little creatures were also working to teach even the surely dwarves of the power of the Fel, which Nobu'tan found extremely ironic and amusing. Having a small collection of loyalists to his own cause inside the fortress of his most direct enemies would prove extremely useful.

Meanwhile, headway had finally been made in Kalimdor. Warlocks from the city of Orgrimmar itself, unaffiliated with those loyal to the Legion, had approached certain former members of Thunder Axe fortress, who had been removed before the debacle of Nott's betrayal and the subsequent razing of the entire fortress, and had entered fully into the Black Harvest.

And that was not their only foothold within the Kalimdor Horde. Select members of the Felblood Elves, still able to access some inherent illusion magic, had infiltrated their old lands of Quel'thalas, and made contact with select warlocks still among the Blood Elves. From there those elves had spread their influence even to the Undercity, meaning that there were now members from nearly all the races of Azoerth belonging to the three major factions in the Black Harvest.

What they still needed was organization, and orders of research to be sent out to these varied groups. Thinking quickly of what was needed; Nobu'tan penned instructions to hand off through their network to reach the various groups. More complicated ritual circles needed to be devised, which was appropriately given for the gnomish Order members, playing to the talents of the ingenious minds.

To the orcs, trolls, humans and dwarves, separately, Nobu'tan issued commands to locate bastions of Legion affiliated demons, so that Order members could go in and subjugate or banish them, depriving the Legion of more feelers onto their world.

The blood elves and Forsaken, on the other hand, he had orders for them to go into Outland, and seek out the remains of the multitude of standing portals that had ripped the land apart. They were to study how this magic had come to be, and whether the Order could tap into the worlds that had been temporarily breached to scout for other locations that the Legion had already invaded. According to his sources, Magtheridon had been using many of these dormant portals to fortify his strongholds with wild demons, until Illidan had shut them with the power of the Skull of his master, Gul'dan.

Glancing at the silent skull, even as it lightly hovered over the plinth that Nobu'tan had created for it, enshrouded in a bubble of protective magic, he thought morosely about the loss of his master. How he would have wanted the old orc's guidance in these times, but that was not meant to be.

What remained of the orc spirit was too weak to even raise in an undead form, drained so heavily from the magic and knowledge that had been siphoned from him by the hands that had used the skull for their own power. Still, Nobu'tan held out hope, that perhaps being left to its own devices might allow the skull to build up its own magic reserves, and perhaps he might be able to commune with his old master again in time.

The messages prepared and handed off to an orc runner, who knew the places and people in the mountain that needed to forward the missives to their intended destinations, Nobu'tan thought of yet another matter that needed his personal attention. Turning and leaving his chambers, the Grand Warlock descended the mountain to its lower regions, where they had repurposes the former Dark Iron prison for their own incarcerations.

Many of their noteworthy prisoners were gone, namely Nott and the Dreadlord Banehollow, but there was one remaining that Nobu'tan wished to visit, as it was due. Nodding at the guard, Nobu'tan walked inside as the iron door was pulled aside for him.

"You're late…" the female Tauren said sarcastically, already sitting across a table set with a worn and battered wood chess set, "I thought the gread Warlock of the Dark Horde prided himself on his punctuality…"

Nobu'tan ignored the barb, as old Magatha Grimtotem was more than willing to try and goad anyone and everyone into a rage, in order to secure the moral high ground as she acted calmly and rationally in face of the anger of others.

"If you truly believe that, Magatha, then our visits have taught you nothing of me…" Nobu'tan chose to reply, watching the dark eyes of the Elder Crone narrow as he took the seat across from her. "Nevertheless, I am here now, and we can have our weekly game…"

Rather than replying, the Tauren merely gazed at the board. Taking one of the wooden-carved pawns, she advanced it forward two squares, trying to begin an aggressive takeover of the center. "Bold as ever, Elder Crone…" Nobu'tan taunted, as he moved a wolfrider knight to threaten the moved pawn.

"You have little idea the threat that my presence always poses, and that of my people… To you, the Dark Horde, and all others who would be the Grimtotem's enemies," Magatha retorted, advancing the pawn once again, to counter the threat of the knight.

Unwilling to sacrifice his piece and put the Tauren in the lead, Nobu'tan jumped over to the side of the attacking pawn, to which the Tauren's aggression continued, another pawn advancing to try and pressure his knight into a terrible situation. "Sometimes, aggression and pursuit of power only lands you in more danger," Nobu'tan said, weaving his knight around the second pawn.

"And sometimes, it opens opportunities that your enemies are not prepared for," Magatha replied, moving her queen out onto the field, past her line of pawns.

"Or," Nobu'tan chided, advancing his same knight once more, to check Magatha's king, "it leaves you woefully unaware of what an enemy might be truly planning…"

"Do not attempt to lecture me, youngling, I am the Elder Crone for a reason," the Tauren retorted, moving her King forward, and freeing Nobu'tan to steal away one of her towers.

Back and forth, they went, Magatha freeing her knight on the same side as the rook lost to her by Nobu'tan, but he changed tactics, leaving the knight deep in enemy territory to advance the pawn before his king, freeing his queen to attack and counter the presence of his opponent's queen.

Finally, the dance ended, when the Tauren attacked, stealing a pawn with a bishop, the shaman figuring leaping out from the back lines. Nobu'tan retaliated in kind, taking pieces across the board with a combination of queen, bishop, and tower.

Finally, in a last ditch gambit, Magatha tried threaten his king, putting her own queen in direct danger for the sake of forestalling Nobu'tan's assault of her own.

"And now we see the folly of outright aggression," Nobu'tan said, casually removing the queen his with rook, "You have over calculated, and now your resources are stretched too thin."

"You think yourself so wise, Leader of the Dark Horde," Magatha said, even as her own king was pinned between Nobu'tan's queen and a bishop, while retreat was blocked by the knight from the beginning forays of the game. "But the real world dosen't workj out so nicely as these little games…"

"Oh but I disagree, Lady Magatha," Nobu'tan replied, twitling the captured king in his fingers, "In every battle, there are Kings, and pawns… one must merely understand what is sacrificial and what cannot be…"

However, between the minced words, Nobu'tan understood the byplay between them. Long had he been playing these games, trying to coax Magatha to unite her Grimtotem fully with the Dark Horde, and long had the stubborn old cow resisted him. her will was that of an unmovable object, and there was no means for him to bend or break her spirit. She had fought too long and too hard for what she had, and she would not give it up.

"But what are you willing to surrender for sacrifice…" The Tauren said, pointing at Nobu'tan with one of her massive fingers, "You who would move mountains to save even the youngest of your warriors, and wage wars on the offenses of even the smallest of your friends…"

"Perhaps I am simply a sentimental fool then," Nobu'tan conceded, unwilling to truly address the Elder Crones barb, "But I know this to be true. You will not bow, and I cannot force you and your people to come to me through your word alone… So I will grant you what you desire most of me…"

The change of topic threw the Tauren, and she glared at him in angry confusion, even as Nobu'tan rose from his seat and held out a hand, Nether magic opening a gateway to the wilds of Kalimdor… "Your freedom…"

"On what conditions?" Magatha shot back, wary of such a freely offered gift.

"None, but if you wish for the reassurances, leave the Dark Horde and our schemes to us, and we will leave you to yours…" Nobu'tan replied, knowing in his heart that no such thing would happen, but the Elder Crone nodded, rising and taking a few of her personal belongings with her as she gingerly stepped through the gateway.

The deserts of Tanaris were not the most hospitable of locations, but it was as close as Nobu'tan dared to place her to the largest grouping of her people, and it was land that the Tauren knew well.

There were chances that the Grimtotem would pursue revenge against the Dark Horde for holding the Elder Crone for so long. However, Nobu'tan wasn't so sure that they were anywhere near the top of the list that Magatha wanted to bring chaos and harm to… she sought power over Kalimdor, and the Dark Horde did not have an established place of power on that continent.

No, he was certain that she would target her old enemies in the Tauren of the Kalimdor Horde, and sow the seeds of calamity there, where Nobu'tan could stand back and watch for the moment to intervene, or even to stand by and do nothing. He would use one enemy to attack and harm another, and his involvement would be unknown in the matter.

|…The Stormreaver…|

Tryande took no pleasure in putting down the corrupted green dragon. Her only solace was that they would reform, whole and untainted back in the dream in time, resuming their duties in guarding the sacred realm of the druids from outside intrusion.

Nevertheless, once the undesirable act was finished, that left the dream gateway for them to enter, shimmering innocently despite the darkness that Tyrande already knew lurked within.

"What should we expect to find within this place?" the Archdruid, Lupin, asked, "You mentioned some creature called Satyrs…"

"Former Night Elves," Tyrande explained quickly, "Anciently part of the inner courts of the former Queen Aszhara, warped by Fel magic and changed into demons."

The standing wolf snarled at the mention of demons, grip tightening on the Scythe in his hands, but he made no other interruption of Tyrande's story, "They were defeated alongside the Legion in the War of the Ancients, and put into eternal sleep under one of the trees that link our world with the Dream…"

"So it makes sense that they would, over this great period of time, learn a way to slip through into this 'Emerald Dream,' and start spreading the Fel corruption into it…" Lupin surmised, mildly impressing Tyrande with his insight.

"So it seems," she said, before gesturing to the gateway itself, "Shall we?"

Without a word, the Druid and his disciples entered the Emerald Portal, followed by the Sentinels and Tyrande.

The boughs of the Duskwood seemed revitalized within the Dream, but with the experience of entering these mirrored woods a few times, it was far quicker for Tyrande to pinpoint the trails of Fel corruption. "There," she said, pointing at a nest of trees that were darker and less vibrant than the others were.

Even as the Worgen started thundering off toward the trees, their keener senses and attunement to the wilds serving far better to navigate the Dream, a sharp gasp turned Tyrande back to the gateway.

"This place is astounding…" Lady Malfoy said, gazing about in wonder at the view of the Dream. Tyrande remembered that this Lady and her people could feel ambient magic as second nature, and she wondered what the sensation might be like to know magic that intimately.

"Come, Lady Malfoy, your ability to sense the magic of this place will be useful in trying to locate my Beloved. If we follow the taint of the Fel we will find the nest of Satyrs, and maybe they will have Malfurion with them…"

"I will do whatever is needed to help you, Lady Whisperwind, it is the least I can do for a fellow member of the Alliance," the woman replied, drawing her wooden stick of a wand and conjuring a shimmering shield around her like a second skin.

The Sentinels instinctively formed up around their High Priestess and the human spellcaster, even as they pursued the Worgen into the thicker part of the forested Dream.

Tyrande had a feeling that, with these allies at their side, they could push deeper into the Dream than they had ever dared, and perhaps this attempt would at last be the chance they had to find and free their wayward druids, and her Beloved, at last.

|…The Stormreaver…|

Sylvanas frowned as she surveyed the Forsaken's newest stronghold. Few had dared to approach the ruins of Stratholme since it was cleared out by Nathanos and the Dark Horde's Death Knight. While the Banshee Queen had no desire to move her people out of the Undercity, having a potential fallback location, as well as a more centralized location of power in the Plaguelands would help them leaps and bounds.

That was why she was here personally, at the massive graveyard outside the city. The Valkyr were with her, as well as Dark Rangers keeping watch around the perimeter. "We need more Forsaken, ones that are not known by the rest of the Horde, to fill this place, and to prepare our war machine for when we finally are called upon to push west and south…" she said, "begin…"

The Valkyr started pouring their magic over the cemetery, as well as the fresh corpses that had been brought up from Hillsbrad. Alliance forces from Southshore would not be reported missing for a while, and the workers of Edwin Vancleef no one would recognize, the man having disappeared countless years ago.

Those, combined with the long buried dead of Lordaeron, would start filling the reserves of her Forsaken warriors. Within moments, the corpses started to move, and Edwin snapped his head up with a scream of horror and pain.

"Arise, Forsaken, and join your new Queen!" Agatha declared, as scored of the newly risen were pulled from their graves. Over a dozen went berserk instantly, clearly dead early on in the razing of the city. Dark Rangers shot these immediately, returning them to death.

The others, more in a daze, were approached by other Forsaken that Sylvanas had brought, and given the choices she allowed for all new Forsaken, continued life as part of their ever growing family, or a quick return to their graves.

Few took that path…

However, Sylvanas only had eyes for Edwin Vancleef, who stood still, watching his hands as the undead joints flexed and relaxed, as though seeking for sensations that would be severely muted now that he was part of the undead.

The mason-turned-bandit met her gaze, and the hatred that flow through him was muted, albeit still palpable to see. The emotion, however, revealed exactly what she wanted to see. The man's personality had survived, and with it, the brilliant mind that had built defenses for both the Alliance and the Dark Horde.

"You will greatly regret what you have done, Banshee…" Vancleef said, seething.

"I highly doubt that," Sylvanas cooed back, stepping closer to the newly made Forsaken, "there are none that would come avenge you, nor are you in any position to try and escape my commands…"

The smirk that return clearly was meant to unsettle her, but Sylvanas paid it no mind. She had done thorough research before sending her rangers to take the man and his workers. "Your assignment is to transform this city into a powerful fortress for the Forsaken, for us to use as our central command in the Plaguelands…"

"Or what?" Vancleef said snidely, "you'll kill me? Been there done that already, Dark Lady…"

"No," she said, the coldness in her words silencing him, "we will keep you very much alive, as we tear you painfully apart, and raise you over and over in an endless cycle of suffering that none in the world will ever comprehend…"

That silenced the man, and he slowly turned to start surveying his newly project, even as Sylvanas returned to Agatha, who came to report on the results of their efforts. "all the remainder have chosen to join the Forsaken, my Queen."

"Excellent," Sylvanas said, "See to their arming and the beginning of their training, we will need more warriors and workers to hold and reinforce Stratholme. And keep your eyes on Vancleef… He is stronger willed than we had suspected…"

"As you command, Dark Lady…" Agatha replied, even as several mages started opening a portal to the Undercity, where a supply cache was waiting to get these new Forsaken started with their new base in the Plaguelands.

Meanwhile, Sylvanas returned to the Royal Quarter, the eastern portions of their lands now underway, she could start to refocus on their southern borders. Silverpine was denied them, for now, but that left the passes of the Alterac Mountains, as well as the river from Caer Darrow down into Hillsbrad, still guarded by their last remaining outpost at Tarren Mill.

They needed to reinforce that front to keep watch and prepare for a revitalized assault on the Dark Horde, for when the time came to at last bring their revenge to Nobu'tan and his forces…

She would bide her time, but Sylvanas was slowly putting all the pieces she needed into play for the future. The key piece she needed was the transition of power for Warchief, so that she could receive the backing once more to push back against those that ought to have been their enemies, but Thrall chose to permit in his declarations for peace…

|…The Stormreaver…|

Remus felt the rush of magic as he and his disciples glided into the trees of this 'Emerald Dream' and had to fight to stay focused on their goal of sniffing out the vile hint of the Fel amid it.

He could only imagine that this was the same pull of power that the Feywilds of Avalon that Merlin had described so many years ago when he freed Remus and other werewolves from the domination of their wolves. The eerie familiarity was not something that he thought he would find on any other world, but a flash of green flame up ahead snapped his attention to the nearing clearing in the trees.

Even without the background about these satyrs that the Night Elf Priestess gave, he could tell that these creatures meant nothing but ill will to the area around them. "Take them down quickly," he snarled, before they leapt into action, their feline forms arcing gracefully into pounces upon the nearest of the horned creatures.

"Druid!" some of the others cried, even as their leader whirled, Felfire leaping in its claws.

"Destroy them in the name of Xavius!" it called, but Remus was already moving, darting through the hastily drawn weapons and slashing claws to go for the leader's throat. The creature died as swiftly as any other did, and before the Elves could arrive, Lady Malfoy in tow, they had already scattered the satyrs and were prowling the edges of the clearing to search for more residue of the Fel to follow.

"Your druids are swift," Lady Whisperwind said appreciatively, "any sign of further of their activity?"

"Some, but it seems that they are preparing for something far greater…" Remus said, indicating the ruins of the ritual that they had interrupted. "Could they summon demons here? It seems that this realm would be far too protected…"

"I confess that I am less informed about the workings of the Dream than others," the Elf admitted, "but with the corruption of the guardians of the Dream, their defenses would have been weakened."

"Then we are looking at something far more significant than just missing druids…" Remus said, "We need to find the captives, and the root of this corruption as fast as possible."

The High Priestess nodded, before turning to several of her people, "You will escort Lady Malfoy back to Duskwood, we have delayed her long enough, and this endeavor will be far more dangerous than we suspected. Thank you, for coordinating us this far," she added to the Pureblood, "but this is something that we, as Night Elves and their druid allies, need to see through. I will send you word when we return…"

Rather than push back, Lady Malfoy nodded, before turning and departing with the elven archers. "I don't underestimate her or her zeal for helping, but this is something I would not place a new mother in danger over." Lady Whisperwind said, which caught Remus by surprise.

The Malfoys had another child, here. Suddenly he was viewing them in a new light, but that was a thought for another time. "We must press on, before their defenses can be mobilized against us." He said.

"I doubt they will be," Tyrande said, "They have not had us press this far into the Dream after them, and they have little reason to suspect that we will do so now."

Remus nodded. Whether that was true or not, they had little choice but to drive further, and find the headquarters of their infestation. "Still, speed and stealth are our allies," he affirmed, nodding toward the faint trail of the Fel that his druids had found on the edge of the clearing.

The trees seemed to darken as they moved further into the Dream-variant of the forest, until they eventually arrived at a recess in the ground, overgrown with some of the darkest vines and root that Remus had ever seen on even the most Legion corrupted world.

"Not even a sentry posted outside, these satyrs are overconfident…" Remus said, sniffing to try to detect any hidden enemies.

"The servants of Xavius were always so full of themselves, even before they fell into the Fel," Tyrande said, her own voice closely matching the ferocity of the worgen. "I sense druidic magic inside that cave; this has to be the place they are keeping the captives…"

"We shall create a diversion, and your druids can slip inside in the chaos," Tyrande said, although Remus could tell that the Night Elf wanted to charge in as quickly as possible and find her lost love.

"Understood," Remus said, shape shifting in a flash to take positions with his druids around the darkened hole, while the Elf rose to her full height and raised a hand to the sky.

"Mother Moon, hear me even within the Dream, aid us in the coming battle!" she cried, her voice booming around the clearing and into the darkened cavern. Light poured down onto the Night Elves, even as the roused satyrs emerged from their den, snarling and charging at the elves.

"Tor ilisar'thera'nall!" Tyrande bellowed, loosing an arrow into the foremost fel beast, followed by a volley of her warriors, before the battle was joined, and the elves waded into battle with hand held glaives, the silvery light gleaming off their blades.

Remus wasted no time slipping into the cavern, and despite the sickening sensation of the Fel surrounding him as they entered, clawed his way down the rotten ground, seeking out the faint traces of wild power that were being washed out by the dark magic radiating from somewhere deep in the soil of this place.

|…The Stormreaver…|

Med'an was actually surprised by the first assignment that Garrosh asked of him. he had been worried that his old friend had pulled somewhat away from him because of Med'an's ties to the Dark Horde, but it seemed that whatever reservations Garrosh had had been put aside.

Holding the sealed message in hand, Med'an listened as Garrosh explained his reasoning. "You have a closer tie to Lady Proudmoore and her people, and if Warchief Thrall feels that diplomacy between the factions is important, then it is something I desperately need to adopt and learn more about. This is a request for myself to visit her nation in Theramore, and spend some time learning about humans and their culture."

"This is amazing, Garrosh," Med'an said honestly. He would never have guessed prior to the Northrend campaign that Garrosh would ever willingly desire to learn more about other races, let alone those of the Alliance, and this was a massive step for him in becoming a great leader. "I will happily deliver this to Lady Proudmoore, and return with her response for you."

"There is no one else in the Horde, aside from probably the Tauren, that I can trust this too." Garrosh said, putting a hand on Med'an's arm, "If you happen to have time to spend with your relatives there, then all the better. If I am invited, I will be delighted to have you accompany me to Duskwallow."

Med'an smiled, before turning and bolting for the wolf stables, where he hired one fo the swiftest of their mounts to take across the Barrens. He had had lots of practice with the bulky creatures in the Burning Steppes, and the flatlands of the Barrens were far easier to traverse than the rocky ashlands of the Steppes.

Thundering out of Orgrimmar, he turned to the west and headed for the bridge to cross the Southfury river there. The arid lands of Durotar seemed far more damp than he remembered, the heat being mixed with a touch of humidity that made his skin burst into sweat within minutes of passed through Razor Hill.

The strange humidity did not extend into the Barrens, however, and he was able to put the odd sensation out of his mind as the rush of air flew through his face and air. The wolves of the Horde loved running through the Barrens, and the mount he had seemed to thrive in speeding along the roads as fast as possible.

Around the time of reaching and passing the Crossroads, Med'an had the stranger sensation of eyes watching him, but he merely urged his wolf to go faster. The sooner he entered the Duskwallow Marshes, the sooner the protections of Jaina and his grandmother's magic would cover him.

And indeed, by the time the gnarled trees were visible and the salt air hit his nose, the shimmer of magic wafted over him, and he knew that Lady Proudmoore was aware of his entrance to her domain. He knew that soldiers would already be alerted to someone of the Horde's coming, and where they would wait to meet with any messenger from Thrall.

Whatever they might have thought when he pulled up instead of a normal orc or troll messenger, he could not tell under their helmets, but they accepted the message all the same. "I will wait for a reply," Med'an said, and the guards nodded, indicating a place out of sight of the road that he could wait.

There was a spot where the wolf could be tied, next to a pool of fresh water that the mount happily started to drink, lapping the water nosily. Med'an did not think it would take long for Jaina to read and respond to Garrosh's request, but still he sat next to the drinking wolf, affectionately ruffling the fur of the animal as he waited.

While waiting, he pondered why he might have felt as though eyes were on him since entering the southern portions of the Barrens. He was well aware that the Twilight Hammer Cult was still in operation, somewhere, even with the main portion of their forces decimated years ago. Their agents would still adhere to their bizarre prophecies about those individuals of dual heritages, and that made Med'an very valuable in their eyes. At least their Old God was destroyed in the southern deserts, which would mean that they had no immediate end goal in sight for their mad devices.

Still, that didn't stop a slight edge of worry from entering his mind. While he had not been completely terrified by the mad ogre Cho'Gall and his master C'thun, it certainly was not a moment of his life he wanted to repeat.

He was broken out of his thoughts by the shimmer of arcane magic as a portal opened up nearer to the road, and Jaina herself appeared. "Med'an?" she asked, spotting him resting next to his mount, "You the one bringing this message from Garrosh of all people?"

"Yes," he said, smiling up at her as she approached.

"If it was anyone else, I wouldn't believe it…" she said, holding up the scroll and scrutinizing it once more. "I was prepared to give an earful to whatever fool thought to bring this to me, as Garrosh Hellscream would want nothing to do with the Alliance, nor I with him, but… if it's you… then he may actually be serious."

"He sounded serious when he spoke to me of what he had planned," Med'an affirmed, and Jaina furrowed her brow in concentration.

"This does pose a bit of a problem, given who else I have coming to visit Theramore in the near future, but at the same time it is an wonderful possibility…" she said, pulling at a loose lock of her hair, "Yes, having Garrosh meet Anduin Wrynn himself would be a choice opportunity. The ship from Stormwind arrived in two weeks time, tlel him that he may visit some time in two and a half weeks, and spend as long as he desires among us, so long as his purposes are what he says. I will suffer no ill will from any faction to any other here, and he is to be respectful of that."

Accepting her written message, which had been floating next to her as she spoke, Med'an nodded, "I will make sure he is well aware of that, and that he is to rely on your graces to prevent himself from suffering the same."

"Be safe Med'an," Jaina said, "There's been strange people about the southern Barrens, not to mention the Grimtotem have started to stir in Thousand Needles."

"I will, and I will return with Garrosh when he comes to visit," Med'an replied, climbing back into the saddle and kicking the wolf around to the exit of the marsh, "I'll see you and Grandmother soon."

|…The Stormreaver…|

Jaina watched Med'an as his wolf sprinted away, worry growing in her heart. Not only was there the elemental surge in the area around them, but the idea of Lord and Lady Malfoy, their family, Anduin, and Garrosh Hellscream under her roof all at once was something to be greatly concerned about.

Whatever the orc was hoping to gain by experiencing human culture was just about to be challenged to its maximum, and Jaina was not sure if the Mag'har was prepared to control his easily provoked rage in the situation he was about to find himself in.

Noting that preparations for any violent outbursts might be needed, she swiftly opened a portal back to Theramore and her tower, and stepped through, where Aegwynn waited. "So what fool think that you'd receive this Hellscream into your home for any length of time?" she asked.

"It was your grandson…" Jaina replied, which stunned the old Magna as much as it had Jaina herself.

"So they're serious, then…" Aegwynn replied after a long moment of silent processing. "This has to be handled extremely delicately. Hellscream has to understand that his presence alone will cause a stir, and if he truly wishes what he claims, it will be a long hard road to fight through."

"On top of the Malfoys, and Anduin, coming at the same time from Stormwind," Jaina replied.

"Oh merciful heavens, you didn't…" Aegwynn breathed, putting a hand to her heart, "Anduin meeting this orc I could understand, but the Malfoys with their clear ties to the Dark Horde?"

"A true test of Hellscream's patience and sincerity," Jaina replied.

"You chose it on purpose…" Aegwynn said, settling as she realized that the Sorceress of Theramore did not make this decision lightly. "I will see to it that all our future guests have quarters and anything that they need. I will also make certain that our Mag'har friend is treated with respect, and treats others with the same…"

"Don't be too quick to judge him, if possible," Jaina added as Aegwynn turned to leave, "This is not the Garrosh I met in Northrend, I suspect. And don't forget to send out mages to investigate the elemental disturbances."

"I may be old, but I am not forgetful yet, girl…" Aegwynn tossed back defiantly, and Jaina smiled. If the Magna had energy left to be snarky, then she would be able to handle the storm that could descend on their island in the next two weeks.

Many things needed to be taken into account, and people and items to procure. Foremost, she wanted her cooks to be prepared with both meals stereotypical of human nations as well as something more palatable for an orcish, to cover all their bases with Garrosh and his tastes. Additionally, she wanted to treat her guests to some of Jaina's favorites, especially as the entire Malfoy family would be in attendance, and little Aurora had not samples anything outside of Stormwind proper her entire life.

Then there was making certain that Lord and Lady Malfoy's room, along with Aurora, had all the comforts that the young girl and her parents would need, as well as a waiting maid for any possibilities.

Had she known that she would have to do significantly more matronly duties in addition to ruling her small island, she would have invested in more housekeeping staff… perhaps that would be something she looked into after her guests departed, as the idea of calculating their needs and what possibilities could happen was exhausting.

Moreover, all this was before she needed to think about the threats to her people, and the potential diplomatic incidents that could happen with the heir apparent for the Warchief of the Horde and the Prince of Stormwind in the same house.

In any event, she ordered for guards on the roads into the marshes to be doubled, and sent word out to the patrols about the Horde envoy arriving in two and a half weeks time, which would give them an escort into the city without any scrutiny.

It was not uncommon for Horde messengers to be escorted into the city, and only in recent days had she started meeting them out of her tower, because of oncoming Prince. She still hoped that one day that would be over, and all members of Azeroth could come and go as they pleased in Theramore, let alone anywhere else in their world.

Perhaps, if Garrosh was truly willing and sincere to see the other inhabitants of Azeroth as Thrall did, he could become a powerful new ally to their bid for peace across their world…

A thought struck her, and Jaina decided to do something different, while not totally reckless. Despite countless times that people in her life had told her to remain outside of a kitchen, she would try her hand at something to represent the vision that she saw of their future.

She would present this notion it in a culinary way for her guests. Quickly she started thinking up ingredients that would work, and where she would need to go to procure them.