Chapter 190

Tides of Conflict

Nobu'tan was in a sullen mood in the days after the exchange in Stormwind. The relationship between Dark Horde and Alliance had been maintained, if not without some nuisance of concessions. The bringing of Velen as a neutral mediator was a smart one on Varian's part, as even Nobu'tan was hesitant to go up against the ancient Draenei and his powerful command over the Light.

He initially had intended to blast the dwarves and their demands across the floor of Stormwind Keep, and use the threat of his much larger forces as a deterrent against retaliation, but the first glance at the Dwarf princess had altered his plan. She was being used, and he knew what it felt like to be a pawn, both unwittingly and knowingly. So he decided upon a much more effective tactic. In showing her how alike they were, with forces they could not fully control breathing down their necks, he had awakened her to the fact that her precious Dark Irons still did not respect her as their Queen Regent.

He wished that he had affixed a permanent eye of Kil'rogg to watch her and the fallout that was sure to follow as she tried to throw off the chains of her minders, but he had not had opportunity to do so.

Whom he had done so to, however, was the one he wished to check up on at this time, and settling into the throne he had taken from Nefarian so long ago, Nobu'tan focused his attention to the lingering magic he had placed upon his target, transferring his mind and sight to the plateaus of the Thousand Needles.

Naturally he had not just let Magatha Grimtotem depart his dungeons without insurances, and one of them that he was certain she was only partially aware of was this. Even if she had the power to remove the charm, he didn't think she would try, as the power of the Dark Horde had intimidated her, whether her pride would allow her to admit it or not.

But she probably would relish the chance to make him see her gain her revenge on the Bloodhoof Tauren chieftain. It was a shame, as Nobu'tan actually respected the old bull, but he was not going to interfere at this time, as ultimately his desire was a united Horde once more, and so long as Thrall had his support to keep them from embracing rule of the Dark Horde, then he had little choice but to remove them.

But, he would allow Carine Bloodhoof a fighting chance, and do nothing to support the Grimtotem in their strategic ambush against the caravan that the elderly Tauren had formed to counter what he had heard was a centaur threat.

But Nobu'tan had been watching, and knew that the Grimtotem had been responsible for the entire threat in the region, and were pinning the blame on the Centaur there to lull their hated enemies into a false sense of security. Magatha was a shrewd leader, and she knew that Cairne would eventually come himself to protect his people.

But Nobu'tan also was aware of the greater movements of the Horde itself, through other spies and eyes in disperse locations. As he had long tried to instruct the Elder Crone, she lacked foresight on the bigger picture, when she thought she had the upper hand, but he would allow the weight of the Horde to crush her rule and her people, until they had no choice but to come crawling back to him for aid.

And then, he would exact a greater toll upon the proud Tauren if they wanted to become members of the Dark Horde, and survive the wrath of the upcoming Warchief.

The foolish female was personally watching as her people fell upon Bloodhoof's escorts, and while the battle was bloody and many Grimtotem fell before the High Chieftain, eventually the old Bull was brought low.

But, unknown to even the Elder Crone, as she celebrated the death of her hated foe, and took his totem as her prize, Nobu'tan saw the looks given to her by some of the others, and their disgust in her revelry at the death of their own people.

Even as she ordered the death of Bloodhoof's son, the leader of the detachment sent to murder the young Tauren took up the Runespear of the fallen chieftain, and somehow, Nobu'tan knew that the one named Stormsong would end up betraying his chief.

Soon enough, the entirety of the Grimtotem were moving out of the thousand Needles, bound for Mulgore to take Thunder Bluff for their own, and Nobu'tan could see at last the doom of Magatha as it played itself out before him. With Garrosh and Med'an currently with the Malfoys at Theramore, and the likely betrayal of this Stormsong, news would reach Orgrimmar swiftly of the Grimtotem's assassination and assault on Thunder Bluff.

But perhaps… perhaps he could aid in the devastation of the Grimtotem ever so slightly, to humble them all the more as they went from a terrible to a destructive loss…

Returning to his own body, Nobu'tan conjured a messenger eye, sending it to his contacts in Orgrimmar, with the knowledge of the death of Cairne, and with orders to let the knowledge slip to Thrall… the Warchief would be more than vindictive against the death of his close friend and ally.

Sitting back and smiling to himself, Nobu'tan concluded that even if they had had to adjust plans for the Eastern Kingdoms with the dwarves, his plans in Kalimdor and undermining Thrall and Garrosh Hellscream continued exactly as he had anticipated, and soon he would have a new faction under his wing that had intimate knowledge about Kalimdor and their associated factions.

It would prove useful in due time, as he fully expected that taking in the Grimtotem would spur more aggression from Hellscream, and put both Hordes another step toward open war. If only the Banshee would hurry up and make her move so that they had reason enough to start their campaign up in Lordaeron.

…The Stormreaver…

Tyrande returned to Moonglade with all haste. She had every confidence that, with the destruction of Xavius' body in the waking world, Malfurion would have no trouble defeating him in the Dream and return to her side. And so she took up her place in his barrow to wait for him, and tend to his body.

She did not have to wait long.

It started as a tightening of the long limp hand that she held when she oft spoke to him, and with a groan that seemed to come from ages of weariness the antlered head turned, and Malfurion's eyes opened, catching her own and drinking them in.

"Only the most beautiful image for me to awaken to…" she said gently, and Tyrande smiled as she helped her Beloved sit up and stretch his limbs.

"Because I would tolerate nothing less for you, my love…" she replied.

"We are not done, alas… I fear that treachery is afoot among our people. Only with outside help could Xavius have known where to set his traps for our druids as we entered the Dream." He said sadly. Rising under his own strength, Malfurion started toward the exit of the Barrow, and Tyrande followed at his side.

"But who, who among us would dare, after all we've been through?" Tyrande questioned, knowing the pasts and sorrows that many of their people carried as their High Priestess.

"Xavius is shrewd, but he is also a braggart," Malfurion replied, "He has corrupted dear Fandral to this own ends, tormenting the Archdruid with visions of his son. I fear that Staghelm may have been driven very near to madness. We will have to handle the situation carefully if we are to avoid violence and potentially bloodshed."

The reality of his words dawned upon Tyrande. She had long sensed something disquiet about the Archdruid that had taken command of the Cenarian Circle in Malfurion's absence, and his choices and desire. They had bickered many times, and even outright argued in meetings, but she had never suspected that the Elf had any desires counter to the good of their people.

"If his mind is tied to the memory of his son, anything that enforces the truth might break him… sending him further into madness," Tyrande said, and her Beloved nodded his agreement.

"We need him to come here, to the Moonglade, where he can have rest, heal, and potentially let go of the pain that the Nightmare tried to use against him." He stated, even as they passed the guards of the Barrow, who bowed in respect for the returned Shando.

"One step at a time then," Tyrande said, before a thought struck her, "What of the Druids of the Pack, where will they go?"

"They will follow their new Archdruid," Malfurion replied, "This Remus Lupin who wields the Scythe of Elune, and I don't expect it will be the last that we see of them."

…The Stormreaver…

Sirius was astounded by the heartiness of the humans of Azeroth.

Bridgette and her Scarlet Crusaders may have had their own vices and prejudices, but they were astoundingly hard working, and willing to endure many hardships to get the fortress of Tyr's Hand back in working order. Guards were set at the front at all hours of the day and night, and no one complained when their time came to stand and keep the wandering undead away from their fellows.

Even their tolerance of the other races started to slacken, as Sirius used his connection through his godson to get supplies from the Dark Horde, brought through portals by orcs and ogres of their clans. At first there was unease among the Crusaders, but when the leader of the group, Bannok, was shown to be a Paladin himself, despite his race, their tensions eased immediately.

Many had not even believed it was possible for the other race to wield the Holy Light.

Having personally seen countless embrace the power of the Light, and even becoming Lightforged, Sirius had known it was possible, but the history here between the races was deep and full of anger. To see it start to cool was good.

Then, there came the needful training to steer these Scarlet Crusaders away from solely using their rage as their source of connection to the Light. Meditations to help the worst of them find inner peace, practice calling upon the light for healing and rest rather than only as a weapon, as well as more martial training to let their skills be honed without over relying on the Light.

That was something that even Turalyon had warned Sirius. All powers had their dangers, even the Light. Too much reliance upon it and it alone could warp the mind, and the Lightforged were more susceptible than most, as the Light was prolonging their lives and keeping their healthy. Even still, he could see the signs among some of the Crusaders. They had had to live off the Light and its power alone for long periods of time in the frozen north, and they were becoming addicted to its magic.

With that addiction also came a susceptibility to being more easily controlled by beings made of the Light, and while Turalyon never believed that Xe'ra would do so, Sirius had been far less trusting.

If they could rely upon their own proficiency first, and the Light second, then the risk of addiction became far less, and the Scarlet Crusade as a whole would be more powerful and less a risk toward each other and those who were their allies now.

But outside of their lands, and the nearby Light Hope Chapel that they frequented often, the rotten lands seemed to continue striving to destroy anything alive in the land. Undead constantly wandered to their gates, as if drawn toward the living, and while he had no reason to presume that the Forsaken had anything to do with it, it was happening far more often than he thought could be possible from mindless undead.

Sirius would have gone himself, and scouted the situation, but he was the defacto leader of the Scarlet Onslaught now, and therefore they were constantly seeking out his constant advice and instruction of how they would take the new direction for their faction.

Still, sending out those who were swiftest and stealthiest was their only option, and Sirius had to content himself with waiting for their reports to return, little by little, about the increased Forsaken presence in the northern parts of the region, and the heavy effort they were making in driving out the Scourge forces around their sections, which were directly leading to the mindless dead flocking southward to the region around Tyr's Hand.

The more troubling report was that they were not experiencing even a fraction of the migrating undead, as most were being funneled southwest, into the other region across the river, and seemingly led or herded for a specific purpose.

And having some clue of the disposition between the Queen of the Forsaken and the Dark Horde in the regions southward from them, Sirius could take a very good guess at what might be planned there.

Tracing the route these hordes of undead were taking, Sirius could see that they were heading out and around the now heavily blocked Darrowmere River, which told him explicitly that they were being used as a weapon to attack the Dark Horde's wall between Hillsbrad and Arathi.

The problem was, even if he had a message sent to Blackrock, it wouldn't have much effect, as there was no stopping the large torrent of mindless undead without raiding them to whittle their numbers, and the Onslaught simply was not prepared at Tyr's Hand to be able to commit to that kind of operation.

Which, naturally, was complicated further by the slowness of their settling in because of the same Scourge attacks hampering their speed at digging into the fortress and getting their bearings.

That would need to change.

Sirius could already tell that this area would soon fall into contention because of the Forsaken's maneuvers against the Dark Horde, and they would be needed to do what they could. Many of the devious tricks that he had employed during his stay with the Army of the Light would prove very effective in both clearing their area and for when the Forsaken finally made their move more directly.

Utilizing skills that he had done much in his youth to prevent others from knowing, Sirius took several chambers in the basement of the cathedral building, transforming them into passable potion laboratories, in order to start brewing large quantities of infused liquid, where the priests and paladins of the Onslaught could infuse the Light directly in to make a powerful curative and weapon.

The demons of the Legion had not enjoyed his Holy Water, nor the puns related to its use back on his home world, but those of the Legion had started equipping every one of their members with it for use against the hapless undead and low ranking demons.

However of more importance to their situation, there were methods of utilizing it that could purify vegetation, as well as make them intolerable for undead or demonic beings to be near. If they could start restoring the life around Tyr's Hand and even Light's Hope Chapel to their north, they might finally have the breathing room they needed to push the attack against the wandering swarms of the former Scourge undead.

He may not have had Severus' talent for potion-making, but this specific elixir required a brewer that had access to the Light directly, and his old rival had long made his allegiance to the shadowy parts of magic well known.

So it had been a conjoined effort between the two of them, which while resented at first, actually paved the way for them to arrive at a workable relationship, albeit still relatively cold toward each other.

Fortunately Sirius had actually always paid attention in Potions, and did not need Severus' assistance to make the elixir, only to develop the formula in a manner that it could be infused by those who did not have their same innate magical cores.

Within a few hours, he had several batches of the elixir bubbling away, the golden liquid simmering over a handful of fires made on low braziers. In time they would have a substantial quantity of the elixir on hand, possibly enough to even start subtly supplying the Dark Horde and Alliance with weapons against undead.

Thinking of the effects that such potions will have when finished, Sirius smirked as he wiped the small amount of sweat from his brow. Infusing the brew with the Light was a chore, but it was something that could be done whenever needed, and the more it was exposed, the more potent it became.

The Forsaken would be in for a mighty shock if they decided to go up against them here once the first batch was complete.

…The Stormreaver…

Thrall glowered at the missive he had received from the Dark Horde, but his anger was not directed at those who had sent him the information, but the details of letter itself.

It reported that Cairne Bloodhoof was dead, murdered by the Grimtotem in Thousand Needles.

It took all the control he could muster just to keep his hands from shaking at that news alone, but there was more. The Grimtotem were marching on Thunder Bluff, and had sent assassins to kill those who had been most loyal to Cairne, including his son, Baine.

"What are your orders, Warchief?" Nazgrel asked, standing at Thrall's side. The other orc had already read the message that had been brought to Orgrimmar, and had swiftly brought it and the Dark Horde messenger to Thrall personally.

He could tell the lack of guile in the message, as the Dark Horde had nothing of note to gain by allowing Carine's death, and both he and the Bloodhoof chief has sensed that Nobu'tan had respected the Tauren leader enough that he would not conspire to cause him or his people harm.

"Take my gratitude back to your Cheiftain, and my acknowledgement of his repayment of the debt owed by the Dark Horde to the people of Thunder Bluff… this action allows us to save many lives in that unsuspecting city."

"As you wish, Warchief of the Kalimdor Horde," the creature said, bowing slightly. She was shaped like a cross between some terrifying bird and a human female said, long robes covering her winged arms reminiscent of the harpies of Durotar and the Barrens but Fel-infused and drastically different.

She alone of the small entourage had been permitted inside Orgrimmar, and the others, including a warlock of the Dark Horde, waited outside the city to transport them back to their own lands. Thrall waited for the strange creature to depart, before responding to Nazgrel, "Muster the Horde, and call reinforcements from the Undercity and Silvermoon… This attack on Thunder Bluff will be met with the full fury of the Horde, and if we must stain the peaceful lands of Mulgore with the blood of the Grimtotem, then so shall it be done."

"What of Garrosh and Med'an, both of whom are at Theramore, should we send news to them," Saurfang added.

"Yes, Jaina may enlist soldiers to help pin the Grimtotem inside Mulgore, and Garrosh will personally want to avenge the death of a leader of the Horde." Thrall said, "Send wind riders to bring them to Thunder Bluff, we will need the speed. And I want zeppelins to carry our warriors across the Barrens. There is no time to march on foot or by beast…"

"As you command, Warchief," his advisors said, before departing swiftly to carry out the orders.

Rehgar Earthfury, one of the chief Shaman of the Horde, looked up from the circle of other shaman that regularly communed with the elements with Thrall. "Something is amiss here," he said, "For Magatha Grimtotem to make such a massive error in judgment in the haste of her revenge, her vision must be clouded or deluded in sensing what fate would befall her people."

"Perhaps she simply does not care anymore past achieving her mad quest to rule Kalimdor," Thrall said, almost dismissively. In his own anger he did not care for the motives of the Elder Crone. Her punishment will be great, provided that Thrall was the first to reach her first.

Around the room, the Kor'kron guard all stiffened, awaiting the command for them to mobilize and take to the battlefield that would become the green lands of Mulgore, and inwardly Thrall resigned himself to the reality that his old friend was gone, and he was about to turn the lands he had preserved into a blood-stricken waste in order to preserve his people.

But his anger and desire for justice overwhelmed his desire to preserve the peace of the Horde. "Assemble the Kor'kron, we will be on the first zepplin to Thunder Bluff…" he ordered, and those around him scrambled to obey.

Marching from Grommash Hold, Thrall knew that the elements twanged in tune with his wrath. But there was another note in the shuddering elements that he could not place, and it caused a moment of worry before he was forced to put that feeling aside. They had enough to be concerned about before dealing with unrest in the elemental planes.

…The Stormreaver…

Remus could smell a massive change in the air as his newly reinforced people returned to Fenris Isle. The former werewolves and Azeroth native Worgen seemed uneasy, but it was not due to the massive influx of the ancient Night Elf druids that formed the original victims of their shared curse. Rather, it seemed that pressures from the north were wearing on their minds.

The stench of undeath was heavy on their air, which told him more than enough of what had been going on, "The Forsaken are on the move again," he said simply, so which the others nodded.

"They're heavily monitoring the areas east of the road, having determined the direction our raiding parties come from, even if they have no means of remembering that this isle is here, and are spreading their blight to kill off the forest and slaughter any game there is to be had." One reported.

"Then we can forage southward, in Hillsbrad and the Alterac Moutnains," Remus said, pointing the next logical course of action.

"They have already anticipated that," the other replied, "the river into Hillsbrad has been damned, and mindless undead from the Plaguelands are being herded down it to harass Hillsbrad and Thoradin's Wall. Outside of portals from outside, we have little means to maneuver or to make sure our people are fed."

Sighing, Remus turned his mind and attention southward, "They are trying to drive us to either withdraw from the region, or push us into Gilnaeas, and force conflict between the Worgen and that human nation." He said sadly, "The Wolf Cult and Greyback probably are already there, causing a great deal of suffering and animosity between humans and Worgen, which means that we would be walking into extreme danger. But we have little option otherwise."

"We are far more swift and skilled in the skin of the wolf," one of the Night Elf Worgen stated, "Let us go and scout the area, and see where we can set up a fallback location in their nation…"

Remus nodded, knowing that even with his lifetime and skill controlling the form of the wolf, these elves still had thousands of years of experience over that, and to rely on their strength in this time was not a sign of weakness, but wisdom.

"Meanwhile, we must do what we can to start establishing more independence for food and resources outside of hunting on the mainland." He explained, "If we can start cultivating the land of the island, we can plant our own food, as well as raise domesticated beasts for our use. Not a quick or simply solution, but one to work toward freeing us long-term."

"Perhaps, we can appeal to the Dark Horde and use their portal magic to find new hunting grounds, somewhere farther away from the Forsaken, while being able to maintain our position here?" one of the younger druids suggested, and while Remus did not wish to have more to tie them into owing favors to Nobu'tan, it was a practical solution that would alleviate their problems for the immediate needs.

"Then these are our way forward," Remus said, resigned to the straits they were pushed to because of circumstance. "We will pursue these objectives, and continue to harass the Forsaken, as they clearly are trying to bring war to this region, whether the Dark Horde or Gilnaeas it does not matter, we will be caught in the middle, and that cannot be tolerated."

Remus remained after the others departed to start work on their assignments. Something didn't feel right. While the movement of the Forsaken was not something unexpected, this renewed aggression so quickly after the end of the campaign in Icecrown spoke of a serious plot, and if the Banshee wanted to take advantage of the other factions consolidating and resting their warriors, then she had some secret objective that she didn't even want her allies aware of.

While not aware of the particulars of the diplomatic stance between the Horde of Kalimdor and Nobu'tan's faction, this aggressive move spoke of a desire to plunge them both into direct confrontation. Did Sylvanas seriously think that the Dark Horde would be easy prey just because of the losses sustained in the Frozen North, or was there something else she was keeping in reserve?

It was well past time for them to fulfill the purpose the Nobu'tan had sent the werewolves to this forest so long ago. They needed to spy directly into what the undead hag was planning, and if he has to infiltrate their city himself, then so be it.

Ascending to the top of the rebuilt keep, Remus allowed the power of the wild to rush through him, enriched by his foray into the Dream, and shifted into the form of a highland rook, gleaming black feathers feeling the wind as he soared upward and to the north. He would scout their lands first, before trying to venture into the underground lair of their capital city. Hopefully there would not be too much of a need for him to enter that vile place, but Remus suspected otherwise.

…The Stormreaver…

Med'an was able to actually feel relaxed, here in Theramore with Garrosh, the prince Anduin, and the Malfoy family. It had been an awkward first week of them all together in the tower, but they had quickly fallen into a more congenial relationship, although Garrosh still preferred to stay out of the way of many as much as he could.

Still, even in his own way, he was integrating to the ways of the humans of the Alliance. Garrosh had been personally invited by the leaders of the garrison to spar with their warriors, utilizing weaponry that the humans were familiar with. Garrosh was initially loath to leave Gorehowl in the tower, but he realized the fact that such a legendary weapon had taken many human lives, and would be better off not seen unless truly needed or called for.

Additionally, as Med'an watched from time to time, the humans grew steadily more comfortable around the Mag'har, and started mimicking some of the stances and fighting styles that he brought, in addition to Garrosh learning of the more versatile and balanced forms of fighting with sword and shield.

Jaina had mentioned that this was the way that Thrall had once learned to fight, from the stories he had told her on his early life and a slave gladiator in Hillsbrad. Med'an had heard nothing of Thrall's past before he became Warchief, and had learned that the memories of those times had been extremely painful for him, so they were little spoken of in Orgrimmar.

Still, it has been a humbling realization, and Garrosh had suffered just as many defeats with the foreign weapons as he had victories. Commiserating with the human fighters, as well as several trips to the local tavern had done wonders in opening up both to each other, and there were frequent attempts to out drink the orc, all of which failed.

Meanwhile, relations between Med'an and Prince Anduin had gone far more easily, as the young royal had been absolutely fascinated to learn of Med'an's heritage, and the history of the characters who had sired and birthed him, even if Med'an himself wasn't aware of all the importance of the details.

The fact that his own mother had murdered Anduin's grandfather didn't seem to bother the boy at all, if anything it served as the driving catalyst for the lad wanting to know everything he could, and even hounding his grandmother for more information when Med'an's knowledge started to run dry.

It was an interesting experience, warming as much as the interactions with the Malfoy family were often downright chilling. Lord and Lady Malfoy clearly remembered him, as did their daughter Aurroa, but the young man who was their elder child was aloof and frosty at best when Med'an was introduced, strangely reminding the part orc of Jaina from time to time.

Lady Proudmoore did what she could to keep the peace when it was needed, and at the same time keep their interactions happening as often as situation permitted. The most recent method she had taken was having the lot of them go on walks through the marshland. Since the death of the dragon Onyxia the region had become significantly safer, if not any more pleasant of a location to walk through, but the brisk tours of the marshes were exotic enough that the youngest members were still desirous to go, and the eldest could not refuse the need for the exercise.

Just as they were crossing the main road that led back to the Barrens, Med'an heard the thunder of toughened feet coming toward them at great speed. He only had time to look up and see the two Kodos barreling out of control down the road, the riders barely managing to hold onto the reins in their haste.

"Look out!" he shouted, even as the Malfoy girl, blissfully unaware of her imminent danger, was stopping to play with a flower at the edge of the nearest pool.

None of the humans of their group were nearly close enough, and Med'an could only watch in horror as the Kodo came every closer. But Garrosh moved like lightning, the Mag'har snatching the girl from the trampling feet of the Kodo and lunging into the water, even as the two riders heaved on the reins and the mounts skidded into an undignified heap several yards past the group.

Garrosh gently set the startled girl back on the roadside, before whirling to glare at the riders, and freezing at the sight that waited for them all. Med'an followed his friend's eyes, landing on the bloodied and disarrayed forms of Baine Bloodhoof and another Tauren from the Grimtotem tribe.

Heaving himself from the murky water with a slosh, Garrosh hurried forward to assist eh injured Tauren from his mount, "What happened?" Med'an said, hurrying up, even as more mounts arrived from the direction of the Barrens.

"Magatha and her Grimtotem are marching on Thunder Bluff," Baine said, shuddering, "Only through the betrayal of this one did I get a chance to escape when they attacked Bloodhoof village. My father… is dead…"

Med'an saw Garrosh freeze at the Tauren's words.

"Garrosh Hellscream!" said another voice, and they turned to see an orc warrior beckoning the Mag'har toward him, and another war wolf that had been brought with him. "Warchief Thrall wishes for you to join him at the gates of Mulgore, where the Horde will defend the Tauren from the oncoming Grimtotem attack."

The Mag'har seemed to freeze on the spot, still processing the news as it was delivered to them. He looked slowly from the orc messenger back to Baine. "Your father was a dear mentor to me," he said slowly, the calm in his voice betrayed by the shaking of his hands as his anger built, "I swear to you, Baine Bloodhoof, he will be avenged…"

"Lady Proudmoore, my armor and weapons if you would be so kind, and as many warriors as you are willing to spare to defend our home!" the Chieftain of the Warsong declared, turning to the human sorceress, who nodded, conjuring a portal in a flash back to her stronghold.

It almost seemed as though Garrosh was ready to storm off to battle right then and there, but Med'an was impressed to see the Mag'har so calm and collected, despite the roiling waves of anger that simmered under his exterior. Next he turned to the Malfoy family. "I apologize for needing to disrupt the peace of this land so soon upon my arrival, but a threat to my people, my friends, and the tranquility of Kalimdor is upon us. I trust you will be safe here, with Med'an to look after you in case enemies turn this way when we push them back from Mulgore."

Med'an started to object, but a stern glance from his friend told him all that he needed to know. He did not want to risk the people here, and Med'an was stronger when defending people, rather than attacking the flank of an enemy.

Soon, Lady Proudmoore and her soldiers returned, and the lead captain offered the armored shoulder plates and Gorehowl to Garrosh.

As soon as the Mag'har had the legendary axe in hand, his calm demeanor broke. Turning to the sky, he roared, a shrieking cry that was equal parts anger and grief. Med'an felt the emotion of it burning his bones, and make him too want to scream at the pain in the sound. The orc turned to face the messenger and the waiting war wolf, but stopped short of approaching.

The little Malfoy girl was there, unafraid of the noise and confusion of people around her. She seemed curiously aware that something was dreadfully wrong, and rather than fearful, she was merely saddened by the pain she saw. She dug in a pouch at her waist a moment, before pulling out a swamp flower, and offering it with a beaming smile to Garrosh. "Flowers make everything better," she said simply.

The honest belief of a child seemed to have power even across races, as Garrosh looked at her for a long moment, before even the icy rage in his heart seemed to melt, and he knelt before the little human girl. "You are too right, little one," he said, accepting the flower, "flowers can make many things better… but not everything…" he added sadly, "Some things we must fix ourselves."

Clearly the young lady only partially understood what Garrosh had said, and her gift given, she moved out of the orc's way and back to her family, who watched as Garrosh strode past, followed by the soldiers of Theramore. He thundered off on the wolf, a banner of the Horde amid the anchor emblems of the Alliance colony.

Suddenly, Med'an felt very sad watching them go, as though it would be the last time he would see Garrosh. As suddenly as the though arose, it vanished, leaving him equally perplexed.

"Come, let us return to Theramore," Lord Malfoy said, gesturing for the rest of their group to depart swiftly. "This place will become potentially dangerous before too long."

They turned to go back through Jaina's portal, but a motion in the corner of his eye caught Med'an's attention. He turned, but saw nothing of note between the trees of the marsh. But the thought of what he thought he had seen greatly unsettled him. The particular silhouette of a Void-warped ogre he had long hoped was dead, buried under the sands of Silithus.

…The Stormreaver…

Khadgar sensed a great disquiet rumbling through the leylines of Azeroth.

Something powerful was building, and every piece of the fabric of their world was shuddering with its coming. If the Arcane could feel its ripples, the Archmage wondered what the others purveyors of magic around their world felt.

He had heard of the movements of the armies of the Horde, and while he wished he could go and speak with Thrall about what he was feeling in the earth, that was not possible at this time. Still, as he wheeled about the ports of the Eastern Kingdom, debating if he should go west anyway, a twinge of magic caught his attention far closer, and more familiar than the orc Warchief.

Turning sharply, he started the journey north of Stormwind, where the volcanic mountain shimmered with magic of both Arcane and Fel. Why Nobu'tan was utilizing both magics so wantonly at the same time he did not know, but Khadgar was under no impression that his presence for a few questions would go unpermitted.

The stench of the Fel magic grew as he approached the high alcove that overlooked the Burning Steppes. As he flew, Khadgar in bird form observed the cultivation efforts of the Dark Horde, trying to return some semblance of greenery and life to the barren land. It seemed, though help by their new Light-blessed clan, they were winning that battle.

Settling on the balcony, he shifted back into the form he was most accustomed to, Khadgar peered around to try and find the source of the magic.

"Archmage Khadgar…" the voice of the warlock said, drifting back to him from a back room, "I find it unsurprising that one of you Kirin Tor finally came poking around…"

"I confess that it was not high on my long list of things to accomplish after returning from Outland…" Khadgar said, "What is this ritual I can sense from as far as Stormwind…"

"Come and see what we've been experimenting with… you might find it at least moderately interesting," the voice rpelied, and Khadgar approached, entering the back room to find a large chamber, bigger than he had expected it to be given the dimensions of the mountain, but the Archmage was aware of the abilities of the Arcane to alter the perceived dimension of things.

What stole his breath was the massive robs of glowing magic that hung suspended by chains in the room, with goblin engineers, magi, and warlocks scurring about it as they examined it from every angle.

"Our prize from Outland, liberated from the hands of Kael'thas' Blood Elves…" Nobu'tan explained, approaching the Archmage, "they called it… a Mana Bomb…"

"And, what do you plan to do with it?" Khadgar asked, aghast at what the man was implying.