This chapter really came down to the wire this month. Still keeping afloat, but it's a close thing from time to time. Hopefully as the Cataclysm draws closer the writing will flow more steadily and things will ease, but there are a lot of items that need to be positioned just right by the time Deathwing arrives. As always, all reviews and comments are welcomed with open arms, and every ounce will only motivate me further with the story as we approach the great and dreadful 200 mark for chapters! Enjoy the next chapter, and until next time! ~F

Chapter 192

Elemental Unrest

Varian started from his throne as the ground beneath Stormwind Keep jolted suddenly.

Shalamayne was already in his hand and he was halfway to the exit before guards ran up from the entrance of the Keep, "Your Majesty, elementals are erupting from the ground around the city. We're under attack." One shouted

Unsurprised at the news, Varian rushed past the guard and called to his Royal Guard, "to me, warriors of Stormwind!"

Mustering a force of footmen and knights was the easy part, navigating them through to the main gate in any semblance of haste proved to be the challenge, as the Trade District was packed with citizens, all worried and searching for any semblance of reassurance in light of the new threat.

Even as he passed by, Varian grimaced s he heard the shouts of Doomsayers, profession abandoning the Light in favor of complete acceptance of their end, or else some other darker power that they were tight lipped about for fear of reprisals from the guards.

They were correct on that front, to be sure, and Varian would be sure to send guards to clear out the instigators, after the immediate threat was taken care of.

"If we can keep these elementals out of the city, the fighting will be far easier," he instructed, even as various captains assembled to meet with him on the bridge at the entrance of Stormwind.

"'Milord, what if they attack from the sea or infiltrate around out position?" voiced one of the captains.

Glancing off to one side, Varian noticed a gaggle of Lucius and Narcissa's people, watching intently as the military of their city marshaled. "We won't need to worry about that, I think," Varian said, nodding in the direction of the distant wizards.

"Then let them come!" said one of the soldiers, and they turned to see a literal wave of water elementals surging toward them across the bridge of heroes.

What he did not expect were the red and purple robed trolls charging alongside them, dark magic flying from their staffs and other voodoo curses sailing over the charging water elementals. "For the Alliance!" Varian shouted, Shalamayne flaring to life as he swung it through the first elemental to face him, the troll behind it looking surprised as he followed through and cut down the vile being.

Peering across the bridge, Varian spotted a gathering of the trolls, all cooperating to generate a massive portal to a sandy landscape. There, a troll and an immense ogre were conversing, while a churning pool of water surged behind them.

He wanted to know what they were saying, but the fighting was too intense for them to get any closer without drawing a lot of attention. "Mathias, I want to know what they're up to."

"As you wish your Majesty," the leader of SI:7 said, stepping out of the shadows and bowing at the neck. The keen eyes of the King could already see other agents darting through the battle, weaving their way toward the back lines of their enemies. The assassins of SI:7 would start cutting down the elementalists, allowing their front line to push out of Stormwind and back to the troll's position.

His hope was to cut off their portal channelers before whatever was surging in the water behind them rose, as it was clear that that was the major threat the cultists were planning for their city.

Another charge from the knights of Stormwind started to shatter the rnks of trolls and their elemental minions, but the sight through the immense portal was starting to look bleaker, as finned ridges of a serpentine head started to emerge from the watery pool just on the other side.

"Gahz'rilla rises!" announced the lead troll in a jubilient voice, stepping through the portal as the multi-headed water hydra came fully into view. "She will reduce this city to frozen rubble!"

Another wave of trolls appeared, charging around the feet of the massive hydra, which lumbered forward awkwardly as it started to squeeze through the portal. Varian knew that they would need extra help to fend off such a creature, even he himself could sense the magic wafting off the beast, and few of them here had skills with enough sorcery to combat an elemental of that magnitude.

"Looks like I arrived just in time," said cheerful voice behind him, and Varian turned, eyebrows raising as a figure fresh out of legend stepped forward, staff settling down next to him with a soft clunk. "Archmage Khadgar…" he said, and the seemingly old man nodded in genuine pleasure.

"Always good to be recognized, although that statue does little favors for my looks…" he said, smirking up at the image of himself that had been made out of remembrance of the leaders of the Alliance expedition years ago.

"I trust you can assist us with this creature?" Varian asked, and the mage nodded, stepping forward and placing both hands upon his staff. "I'll need time, and then I'll destroy their portal completely. Keep the creature from leaving it completely."

"Whatever you need, Archmage," Varian said, turning abck to the battle and starting forward himself. "Push Forward!" he bellowed, even as the footman around him rallied, and together they charged, trampling those that were foolish to stand in their way.

Slashing down the nearest troll, Varian soon was at the edge of the portal, where the heavily adorned and tattooed ritualist waited.

"You cannot stop the Twilight Cult… the End of Days will claim us all, in the end!" the troll declared, dark magic flaring around it as the troll prepared to attack.

But whatever other ranting that the dust-colored Sandfury troll had in store was cut short, as Shaw's dagger erupted from the creature's chest. The SI:7 leader gave the troll no second thought as he wiped the blade clean and stepped over the corpse to report to Varian.

"From reports dating back to the first war, the ogre speaking to this one could only be the infamous Cho'gall, Chieftain of the former Horde's Twilight Hammer Clan."

"No affiliation to the Dark Horde, I presume," Varian asked, and was not surprised at the negative shake of the spymaster's head.

"Disfellowshipped from the old Horde shortly before the battle of Capital City, and never reformed to the Dark Horde pre nor post Nobu'tan," Shaw reported.

"I'll have the more elaborate report after we deal with this beast," Varian decided, even as a flare of arcane magic turned them back toward Khadgar.

The Archmage raised his staff, and a pillar of purple energy pelted downward with great force on the multi-headed hydra. The creature roared in pain, trying to shoulder the downward pressure of the magic.

Lending his strength to aid the legendary mage, Varian hacked strongly at the webbed leg of the beast, and Shalamayne bit deeply into the web, splattering the bluish blood across the cobbled stones of the bridge.

One of the heads turned to try and retaliate against Varian, but a flurry of small explosives from the SI:7 agents rained down upon it, engulfing the head in smoke and shrapnel. Varian dodged backward, and the head, now shredded and bloody, crashed into the stones where he had been standing, missing completely and getting nothing more than a mouthful of rubble.

"Hold on!" Khadgar shouted from far behind them, and Varian spared half a glance to see the mage making the mystical gesture that most mages made when opening portals. Beneath the creature, a ring of magic started to open wider and wider, and Varian had to jump back as he saw nothing but open sky underneath it.

The hydra tried to lurch away, but it was too slow with the magic pushing it downward, forcing it through the portal and snapping claws that tried to keep it bearing in front of Stormwind. The creature fell through, spiraling with a shrinking roar as it plummeted into nothingness.

As the portal closed, Varien turned to the Archmage, "Where did you send it?" he asked, and Khadgar chuckled to himself.

"The crater where Dalaran once stood… or at least several miles above it… the fall alone should be fatal…" he said, and Varian had no words for the lunacy of the statement he had just heard.

…The Stormreaver…

Teg'Ramm could sense something was amiss, moments before the whole of Blackrock Mountain shook with great violence. It was as though its volcanic core, long dormant because of the magic of Nobu'tan and the Dark Horde's shaman, had awoken with rage and fire.

Being closest to the heart of the mountain, Teg'Ramm wasted no time rallying the Balefire clan and marshalling to the old entrance to the molten core, which had been mostly sealed off because of the unstable elemental magic that flared there. Nobu'tan had denied any use of that deepest part of the mountain, and that no magic but fire elemental magic of the shaman could be done there without consequences. But now, the tunnels down from that place were billowing with fire elementals and other former servants of the Firelord that they had defeated when claiming the mountain so long ago.

As Teg'Ramm arrived, he saw the creatures bottlenecked at the bridge, his guards and warlocks holding the narrow pass to the rest of the mountain as the servants of flame tried vainly to surge across. Of all things, a Dark Iron Dwarf was among them, speaking with one of the serpentine Flamewalkers, appearing as though they were the leaders of this assault.

Sending an eye at a gesture from Ramm, Teg bellowed an order for them to press their own counter attack, the hardened armor of dark iron being more than a match for the magical flames of the elementals and their allies.

"Your faithful service to the Firelord has not gone unnoticed, Pyromancer," the serpent was saying, even as the dwarf preened under the small praise, "Even Cho'gall himself is pleased."

Teg'Ramm seethed at the mention of the elder Ogre mage turned lunatic. He had hoped that the creature was dead, as reports had indicated back from their assault of the Silithids in the south of Kalimdor, but apparently he was just as tenacious in survival.

"Let the assault of this mountain continue," the Flamewalker added, "Reduce the mountain to cinders, and spread south to the human's city! Revel in the sacred flame!"

"The will o' the Firelord be done, Grand Ambassador." The dwarf said, practically groveling at the creature's words.

"Lok'tar!" bellowed orcish voices, as a force from higher in the mountain swarmed down to reinforce their warriors.

"What is the situation Teg'Ramm," Nobu'tan himself said, alighting down from tunnels and passages that the Grand Warlock alone had memorized for flying through the mountain's winding tunnels.

"Dark Iron dwarf, allied with the forces of the Firelands, attacking from the old tunnels to the molten core of the mountain," Teg'Ramm reported.

"These dwarves have been nothing short of a thorn in our sides, and now the very element of fire itself fights us?" Nobu'tan sneered.

"The Firewalker mentioned Cho'gall," Teg'Ramm added, pausing his master's tirade, "they spoke of the him as though he were still alive…"

"So the twilight cult is also involved," Nobu'tan sighed, his anger simmering but subdued with the weariness of the same foes appearing over and over again, "I had wanted to respect the place of the Firelord's fall by not disrupting it with other magic, but clearly that was a mistake, one that I will rectify as soon as we are victorious here."

"Flank them from where they are summoning their forces, while slamming their front lines with all we have?" Teg'Ramm advised, already sensing a seeming plan that Nobu'tan was contemplating.

"Hammer and Anvil," Nobu'tan agreed, already conjuring an eye of Kil'rogg to find a position behind their enemies for him to teleport to.

In the meantime, Teg'Ramm bellowed orders for his warriors to advance, and start to aggressively push their foes back across the bridge. The champions of the various Ogre tribes, who had earned their positions of leadership by the ritual combat before Teg'Ramm himself, leaped into action, leading their people by example as they charged across the bridge. Throwing flamehounds and fire elementals into the lava flows below.

Nobu'tan vanished in a pop of displaced air, and Teg'Ramm took to the battle himself, hurling massive blasts of chaotic magic at the farther enemies, and forcing their attack force to withdraw back into the tunnel down to the beginning of the core passages.

Even as they pursued, the tide of enemies started to dwindle, and the roars of demons and elementals rang out farther ahead.

Nobu'tan had clearly started making his move to attack from farther into the mountain.

…The Stormreaver…

Moira had feared that there would be heavy resistance from both her Dark Irons and the Bronzebeard populace of her taking charge over their defense. But, apparently, word had already spread of the loss of Magni, and that had led to an avalanche of support for anyone who would take the reins of managing the current crisis, and Moira was not petty enough to let her people flounder in their hour of need.

Dark Iron and Bronzebeard stood shoulder to shoulder, heavy shields and long rifles keeping the living boulders from trying to steamroll their way up to the front gates of Ironforge, even as flamecasters of the Dark Irons returned volleys of fireballs down on the lines of earth elementals.

Still, Moira could see it was not a winning battle. They were forced onto the defensive, and there was nothing they could do, no effective side passages for them to escape and check on the people who lived outside of the mountain. All of their effort was being spent just to keep the main gate clear and those inside protected.

Even she herself had to assist the healers with curing the many injuries that they were suffering as the tank-like earth elementals barreled their way into the lines of defenders again and again, only taken down with concentrated effort on one after the next, which was slowly forcing them to give ground to regroup and coral the attackers into death zones.

She could see the moral starting to slip on her warriors. She could not allow them to give in to despair at the tide moving against them. "Light, give us strength!" she cried, calling upon the blessings from above, and letting holy radiance flow over them all. "For Khaz Modan!" she roared, bellowing the war cry that rang in the hearts of all three clans of the dwarves.

Echoing her cry, shrieks from above them turned their gazes skyward, even as Gryphon riders dove down, charged hammers crackling with lightning.

"The Wildhammer have arrived!" a warrior shouted, recognizing the blue war paint of the third family of their people.

The great gates behind them, sealed for the protection of the civilians, burst open with a resounding boom, and more of the royal guard of Ironforge poured out, and Muradin appeared, his armor gleaming and his axe and hammer sharp. Moira stood in shock at the appearance of her second uncle, as she among many others had thought him dead or lost in the frozen north.

Whispers of his survival from Stormwind had been heard, but not believed without proof, but here he was, standing before them an avatar of the mountain itself. "For Ironforge!" he bellowed, and himself stampeded down to meet the elementals in battle. The very stones of the mountain rumbled as he shattered his way through several towering elementals.

"Forward Dark Irons!" Moira shouted, not wanting to be left behind as the other clans pushed ahead. "Ta battle we march!"

The three clans marshaled together, and drove forward, scattering the rubble of their elemental foes off the causeway as they stormed down the mountain. The air support of the Wildhammer harassed and hampered the foes ahead of them, and Muradin's reckless charge shattered the momentum they had lost being pushed back to the gates. Moira allowed her people to fall into the support role, their magic far greater and more specialized to attack from range or heal the wounded.

But what awaited them at the base of the mountain was still daunting. A hulking slab of earth roared as the dwarves assembled to fight, its arms able to reached even the nimble gryphons as they wheeled about its head.

"'You do not fight alone!" came a high squeaking voice from the gates behind them, "For Gnomeregon!"

A volley of explosive ordinance leapt into the air, their Gnomish allies firing a multitude of their destructive devices into the fray, shrapnel and explosions blossoming across the massive elemental.

With the number of allies rallying around Ironforge, Moira suddenly felt that her father's city was in excellent hands, and whatever vague notions she had of taking his palce in light of the current crisis were alleviated. The Dark Irons would leave, peacefully, but the road to an alliance between the peoples of Dun Morogh had been well seeded and paved for their mutual futures.

Downward they charged, crushing the remaining earth elementals, and forced the gargantuan hulk backward into the portal from whence it had come. Beyond it, a strangely feminine creature floated, seemingly directing the attacks of the earth elementals, but suddenly called a halt to their attacks as the massive champion fell before her.

"Bah, I grow tired of this distraction. The Ogre mage had not nearly enough of a promise for us to risk ourselves in his fight. Be gone mortals; face the torment of what is to come to your world."

The portal closed rapidly, leaving them all with a sense of emptiness in their victory, but nevertheless the end of the threat to their people was welcome. "Fan out and check the towns," Moira shouted, snapping their warriors out of the daze left in the abrupt end of the battle, "We have civilians to rescue and move back into the mountain."

The Dark Irons still needed to prepare to depart, but that didn't mean that they could postpone in order making sure that Ironforge was in a solid position when they did so.

The Gryphons wheeled overhead, heading south toward Stormwind, and momentarily Moira wondered if the other factions and races were having similar attacks in their own lands.

…The Stormreaver…

Thrall reeled at the turbulence of the elements raging around Orgrimmar as the Horde forces returned from the Barrens. From one battle into the midst of another was never the best position for an army to be, but the Horde was the most hardened for such prolonged warfare.

"Garrosh, lead our warriors against the threat," Thrall ordered, "I must commune with the elements, and see what is the root cause of this destructive unrest."

"Yes, Warchief," Garrosh said, the steady burning of his passion igniting those Ko'Kron around him, and further to the least rank of the Horde's warriors. Thrall momentarily watched the Mag'har depart, knowing in his heart that it was the right choice to select the son of Hellscream to take up the mantle of the Warchief. The Horde rallied around his strength, and this newfound tempering of his rage only bolstered his wisdom and cunning in battle, which would make him all the greater a leader of the multi-raced Horde.

With Garrosh and the others seeing to their defenses, Thrall withdrew to the Valley of Spirits. Shaman of every Horde race had assembled in Grommash Hold, feeling the reeling elements and being unsure how to approach them to understand what was happening.

"Deathwing the Destroyer has returned," Thrall announced as he entered, trying to swiftly explain the situation, "Something about his appearance has thrown the elements into chaos, and we need to commune with them, see if there is some way to calm them once more."

Several of the Tauren Shaman started to spread strong smelling herbs into the nearest braziers, closing out the outside pandemonium with the pungent scents. The two door guards closed and barred the main entrance to help shut out the distractions outside even as Thrall concentrated on the billowing fire, feeling the element and allowing his consciousness to be carried away into the realm of the elements.

The great pain in the elements made all of them present stagger in shock, before they were able to muster the strength to push past the initial sting and dig deeper into the cause of the element's' pain.

It was clear that Deathwing had shattered something vital to the stability of their world, and the elements were roiling in response to it, as well as some manner of future chaos that they feared above anything else. Reaching forward, Thrall tried to sense what the event they feared so much was, and how they might avert it from happening, but a figure appeared, blocking their path, and laughing.

"You will not interfere…" said a voice, "The Hour of Twilight will come to pass!" boomed a second from the same figure.

Thrall knew of the figure they saw. The mad ogre Cho'gall, thought dead in the deserts of Silithus, apparently alive and still working toward whatever madness the Twilight Hammer sought in destroying all of their world.

"Sarsarun, deal with the upstart shaman, blow their city into the sea!" Cho'gall said, before a Windlord appeared in his place, manifesting in their world nearby, and marshalling a host of elementals under its command.

"This is only the beginning mortals!" the Wind Lord boomed, and he could be heard both in their vision and outside the Hold, "You will all die!"

"Discovering more about this disturbance will have to wait," Thrall said, ending their visions as the flames around flared brighter, "We must defend Orgrimmar."

Starting outward, Thrall looked quickly to the narrow pass from the Valley of Wisdom back to the Valley of Strength. Few knew about this little side path, and if there was a Twilight ambush waiting for them, it was likely in the Drag where they had set up.

"We will take the side path, we must reach Garrosh's side swiftly, without distraction or delay,"" Thrall ordered, leading his Ko'kron and the Earthen Ring Shaman to battle.

…The Stormreaver…

Med'an would not be taken again.

At the mention of Cho'gall's name, he had realized the dire threat that they were all in. if the mad ogre wanted him and the youngest of the Malfoy family, he would die trying to prevent them from their goals.

Light to counter the shadow leapt at his command, even as the Aracne wove a shield around the little girl, flame and frost spraying the minions of the Twilight Cult that dared approach the Malfoy child.

She spotted the orc dueling with Lord Malfoy, utilizing the strange wizarding magic that they had held so secret, and he was momentarily shook at the thought that these cultists had dedicated so much effort to counter the magic of every race on Azeroth, before his grandmother stepped in.

The ripple of Arcane magic shook the ground as the former Magna tore into the orc, batting aside his magic like it was a child's toy, even as the deadly green bolts flew in every direction. Lord Malfoy deflected one of the spells, causing an opening which Aegwynn took, blasts of arcane tearing into the orc's midsection and throwing him back in pieces.

But the orc was not dead yet, and with his fading life energy, managed one more spell, the wooden wand aiming directly at the former Magna, even as she turned to face off against another foe. "Avada Kedavera," the orc spluttered, and Med'an screamed as the bolt struck his grandmother in the back, sending her form limply falling to the ground.

Rage and pain shot through him as the only connection to his human heritage fell before him. Atiesh flared to power in his hand, and he turned his eyes on the remaining cultists.

"Yes boy, usher in the destruction of this place," said their leader, a troll with a heavy underbite, and Med'an had no problems complying, if it meant their death first and foremost.

The ground rumbled with fear as Med'an unleashed the fury of the arcane, carving channels into the ground as he obliterated the cultists as they tried to stand against him. The world filled with his anger, and soon Med'an could feel nothing else.

Everything would understand his suffering, and pay for the crimes committed against him. The staff of his father in his hand was more than willing to see the full power a Guardian bent upon revenge could unleash, and he could take up that mantle, claim the magic of the world and achieve whatsoever he wanted.

"But is that what you want, my son?" a strange voice said.

Turning, Med'an looked at the strange, ghostly form of a human, his long sandy hair completely ignoring the magically conjured wind from Aetish. From what his grandmother had told him, there was no doubt that it was the form of his father, Medievh.

"Father?" Med'an breathed, shocked to his core.

"This is not who you are, my son," the Last Guardian said, reaching forward to place his hand on Med'an's shoulder, "you are no one's' weapon, not Cho'gall, not Nobu'tan, not even Aetish…"

Glancing at the staff, Med'an could feel the glee ebbing from the sentient staff, even as he slowly regained control of his emotions.

"You have a role to play in the future, Med'an," his father said, "and it is not to destroy Azeroth, but to save it… you must master all aspects of magic, and take up the role that I so shamefully squandered."

"But, who could possibly teach me all I need to know?" Med'an breathed, thinking of the loss of his grandmother.

"Those who love you are never truly son, Grandson," Aegwynn said, appearing beside her son, looking far more youthful than she had been in life while Med'an knew her. "We all remain, echoes in the leylines of the world, as well as other places out in the Twisting Nether… there are more mysteries in our universe than even we Guardians could fathom, and you are just scratching the surface of your power."

"Where should I go?" Med'an asked, already sensing the vision starting to fade, "Who will start me on this path…"

"My old apprentice… I suspect he will find you, in time…" Medievh said, grinning, "from there, latch onto the knowledge of everything anyone will willingly teach you. Magic simply is, there is no good or evil to it, only the ends to which you use it. Even the Void and the Fel can be used to further noble ends. Just be aware that all these powers will want things from you, and Your will is what governs who is in command."

"We will always be with you Med'an, and you have friends and loved ones still close…" Aegwynn said, even as the vision faded, and Med'an felt his power fade away.

Admit all the chaos of his unleashed magical power, he had still shielded the Malfoys, as well as those who had arrived to see what the source of the chaos was. The Twilight Cultists were destroyed, and Med'an felt some guilt at the needless loss of life, but they had made their choices.

"Are you alright?" Narcissa said, approaching and putting a hand on Med'an's cheek.

Looking at the body of his Grandmother, covered respectfully in Lord Malfoy's cloak, Med'an felt fresh tears falling, but nodded, "She will always be with me…" he said, "And I know what path I need to follow, now…"

…The Stormreaver…

Nobu'tan wasted no time in setting up his counter attack. These fire elementals and their Flame Walker masters would regret returning to this mountain before they were sent back to their Firelord in shame.

Drawing upon the fonts of Fel magic around Blackrock, Nobu'tan tore open multiple Fel portals, allowing a flood of Felguard and dreadstalkers to pour forth. These took the lead on his counterattack of the rear lines of the Flame walkers, disrupting their own summons for reinforcements from the Firelands.

"Intruders!" boomed the lead serpent, wheeling to face the demonic attack force, "Burn them, Pyromancer! Show these heathens the power of Ragnaros' flame!"

The Dark Iron dwarf tried to rally his own forces, but Nobu'tan was tired of these minions and go between, and with a flick of the Elder Wand crushed the dwarf with the deadly green killing curse.

Whether the Flame Walker was surprised or not didn't show, but the anger was palpable as the demonic force swarmed over their rear lines, lessening the pressure on their own attack and, presumably, making way for Teg'Ramm to assault the front and pincer these fools between them.

"Tell Ragnaros that he is no longer welcome in my mountain," Nobu'tan said, even as his demons humbled the Flamewalker.

"You struggle in vain, mortal…" the creature seethed, "You will all perish in the Firelord's flame…"

"Unlikely," Nobu'tan said coldly, even as he personally unleashed Fel magic into the serpent, corrupting its fiery soul and destroying it utterly. "And Cho'gall will learn that I am not one to be trifled with…"

The Balefire clan charged into the chamber, smashing their way through the last remnant of resistance and scattering the fire elementals in their bloodlust. Nobu'tan let his eyes wander away from the last of the conflict, his interst lost as he took the molten core of the mountain into view. He had truly wished for this place to remain untouched, respected as a place of a great power, but the attack in the very heart of his domain had adjusted his decisions.

The Fel was the backbone of the Dark Horde, and that would be the foundation that they fueled their fortress with.

"Come with me," he said, gesturing for several of the Ogre warlocks to follow. It had been a long time since they had approached the swirling heart of the volcano, where the Firelord had once resided, but now the place was significantly cooled from that raging battle several years ago. The crusted rock covering the magma flows just beneath the surface, however, would still suit Nobu'tan's purposes.

Raising his arms, Nobu'tan projected raw Fel magic into the hidden magma, punching through the dried crust that covered the former resting place of the Firelord, "This place will convert into a font of the Fel, and become totally incorporated into the Dark Horde's war machine."

The ogres added their magical strength to his ritual, and slowly they corrupted the raw fire energy of the mountain's core. Already, plans and plots were in motion in Nobu'tan's mind, of the Felblood Elves and the tempting possibility of going more aggressively against the Legion, still out there in the Nether waiting to attack Azeroth again.

If they could force some of the greater demons out of hiding and defeat or subjugate them, it would start to really whittle down the strength of the Legion, and give the Dark Horde powerful weapons to use in the future battles that would inevitably come.

But that was a longer reaching objective. For the time being, sealing this place from the realm of fire would be sufficient, as well as returning to the planned assault of Grim Batol. However, with the sudden unveiling of the Twilight Cult, Nobu'tan wondered if their plans would have to be altered to accommodate the new threat to their tentative peace.

…The Stormreaver…

Garrosh did not enjoy fighting against elementals.

There was nothing of substance for Gorehowl to cleave through, and while he banished scores of the smaller wind creatures, it felt like nothing more than an unending training session with no visceral gratification to show for it.

Despite his dislike, the protection of Orgrimmar took precedent over anything, and so Garrosh pressed forward, leading at the front like an orc Warchief should in battle. Momentarily, as he paused at the gates of the city, he realized that in this instance, he was taking the role of the Warchief, while Thrall had stepped back as the spiritual advisor.

Even in the midst of this crisis, the Warchief was still using it as a preparatory exercise for Garrosh to step into the seat of the leader of the Horde.

Outside the city, a massive Windlord had appeared, trying to conjure a cyclone in the dusty land of Durotar, threatening to destroy what precious farmland they had in the difficult land that Thrall had settled for their people in Kalimdor.

"Ah, our esteemed guests have arrived!" the Windlord said, overly confident as the Horde's warrior poured out of the gates of Orgrimmar to start countering his minions.

"Doubtless they are incensed by my meddling with their fragile little homes…" the air elemental continued, turning toward a host of red-robed cultists that were opening portals to where the air elementals were emerging from.

"See to it that they are made to feel MOST welcome, hmmm? After all, their bones will be lying here for a long, LONG time…" it continued to taunt, and Garrosh felt the desire to give in to his rage and prove that the Horde was not to be underestimated rising within him.

But he restrained himself from anything overly reckless, even as they still charged at the cultists. Garrosh batted aside what elementals he could, allowing ranged and spell casting warriors take out those they he bypassed, eager to reach the mortal cultists and end their interference.

What was better was the increasing anger on the elemental lord as his minions were cut down. Eventually the Windlord was forced to engage them directly, even as Thrall and a host of shaman came to reinforce them from the city.

Garrosh felt more than confident that they would repel this foolhearty attack, but clearly the elemental had more information that it knew, as it was more than willing to threaten them even as it was banished back to its elemental plane. "This… is only… the beginning, mortals! You will… ALL DIE!"

Without the Windlord to lead them, the rest of the elementals started to disperse, and the cultists were quickly cut down or fled into the wilds of the Barrens.

"A small victory," Thrall said, before nodding at the rapidly approaching dragon, "but that is a far more concerning issue coming for us. We need to secure as much of the city as we can before Deathwing arrives. If the elements themselves are roiling at the emergence of that dragon, I wouldn't want to think what that dragon flying over Orgrimmar would do to homes and businesses."

Garrosh nodded. It was not glorious work, but it was equally needed to serve the people of the Horde the way a true Warchief should. Directing the warriors to fall back to the city, Garrosh saw to the reinforcement of the city, although in his heart he knew there would be massive damage regardless of what provisions they took.

Therefore, while still doing what they could in all haste to protect structures and supplies, Garrosh took the larger move to protect as many lives as possible, and had those in riskier sections of the city relocated to the Ragefire Chasm, along with a large guard of warriors to ensure their protection if anything still lived in those dark caverns.

Businesses and buildings could be rebuilt, but the lives of the Horde were more valuable to save, and so Garrosh would do everything possible to ensure that they endured the coming crisis.