Chapter 107

Castle of Hellfire

Voldemort couldn't be sure, but to him it seemed that the higher they climbed in the tower, the larger the structure actually became. Once they ascended from the ground floor, his third of the attack force had encountered and entire ghostly garrison of guards. Unfortunately for the memory-like specters, the Necrolytes of the Dark Horde were more than capable of binding them and causing the entire garrison to fall into ruin fighting among themselves.

Aside from ancient armor and rusted weapons, there was nothing of note or value there, and so the group pressed onward and upward, strangely enough emerging on the next level into a kitchen, which appeared at first to be in full operation by the ghosts of chefs and skeletal servers carrying out plates of rotted food into the chamber beyond.

From that direction, Voldemort heard the merry-making of some manner of party, with a haunting melody playing over the chatter of voices and clink of cutlery on china.

"What has befallen this place?" the hulking form of the ogre Death Knight, who had named himself Gor'Lak, asked.

Voldemort had no answer. While in life he had held no beings close in respect, he had found that in death his pride had been humbled. The others that followed him, while meaning nothing to him in an emotional sense, had places of respect for their strength and loyalty.

"I suppose we will find out as we continue to the top of the tower…" he said after a few moments, even as they entered the kitchens, alerting ghostly hounds that had been enacting their instincts in life, begging for scraps at the sides of the chefs.

The hounds snarled and charged, followed quickly by the shouting cooks, and Voldemort's force braced to weather the sudden assault. Several blasts of sickly green magic opened the way, and they pushed themselves fully into the room.

The undead here were significantly less threatening than those on the lower levels they had already slain, and Voldemort broke off from the slaughter to peer through the open doorway into the next chamber.

As he thought from what he had heard, there was a massive dining hall beyond, with a multitude of ghosts, skeletons, and even large elementals of arcane magic throughout the chamber. And on a raised platform, separated from the rest of the long banquet tables was a smaller group of four ghosts and one zombie-like figure.

Beyond this new chamber was some type of ballroom, from which Voldemort spotted the flash of magic and the clash of battle. The second group of his forces must have arrived there from one of the other ground floor exits, and were fighting through to the same location that Voldemort was now looking over.

Calculating swiftly, Voldemort could tell that the five atop their separated platform were the most dangerous of the entire room, and smirked. Doubling back to the rest, who were maneuvering through the kitchen to prepare for the next room, the chieftain of their clan withdrew his blade.

Channeling the powers of death, Voldemort allowed the blade to start to glow, radiating the magic he wielded. Gor'Lak, as well as the other full Death Knights copied him, charging their Rune-weapons with the deadly magic. "Clear the next chamber swiftly, but leave those atop the platform, we will need to fight them all as one."

"Understood, Chieftain," the Death Knights replied, turning their glowing eyes toward the next room. Storming through at the head of his clan, Voldemort unleashed his power, scattering bolts of death at all those nearby, sending the ghosts off to whatever afterlife they belonged.

The others followed suit, slashing their way through the room with muted speed. Unfortunately, their sudden appearance and attack drew the attention of those atop the platform, and the walking corpse especially was drawn to their forces. "Hmm, unannounced visitors…" the figure said, bemused, "Preparations must be made…"

The ringing of a small bell in the figures hands sent the four ghosts rushing down to meet the Blightbringers. From the chamber beyond, the second force of their clan broke through some skeletal servitors and joined the fight as well, turning the tide well into the favor of the Necrolyte clan over these undead.

But Voldemort was wary, as the walking corpse had vanished from sight even as they commenced fighting the phantom guests of the party.

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

Nobu'tan could sense that something was wrong.

Despite taking care of most of his needs fairly well, and his food and drink strictly monitored by Blaise, whether he wished it or not, the Lord of the Stormreavers felt off from his usual self. It had started soon after entering Outland, and had progressed to a serious concern for both himself and his closest allies.

He needed answers about what had occurred to this place, further and more detailed than what the Bleeding Hollow Fel orcs could tell him. Operating off what little the Dark Horde was aware of for the time being however, meant that they had to take control of the Hellfire Citadel if he was to get some answers.

To that end, Nobu'tan gave the orders that were needed. Teg'Ramm would lead the attack to take the citadel, with a force consisting of the Bleeding Hollow, Amani Trolls, Fel Veela, and Fel Centaur. They would strike the three primary locations of the citadel, including the ramparts of the main wall, and the two interior chambers that held the majority of their enemies. They were called by the Fel orcs the Blood Furnace and the Shattered Halls. Nobu'tan would participate, although he did not think he should be in leadership of the attack in his current state. The bouts and flares of anger were growing in volatility, and he was concerned that he might do something regretful if he were to lead a direct conflict.

Nevertheless, he felt strongly that he needed to participate in some fashion. It seemed as though something was calling to him from the depths of the citadel, and the Fel within him was reaching out in response to it.

Even as he turned from the current vat of potion he was stirring, trying to keep himself calm and controlled, Teg'Ramm entered the chamber, "Lord Nobu'tan, I have completed the assault plan for the citadel," he said.

"Excellent," Nobu'tan said, although he suspected that the ogre mage wanted to get approval of his plan before enacting it. "I trust you that everything is in order, initiate the plan."

"As you wish, Lord Nobu'tan," Teg'Ramm said, "I have assigned that you will enter the Blood Furnace, alongside some of our elite troops and the Bleeding Hollow guides. I will take command of those entering the Shattered Halls, and Aisha will command the assault of the ramparts."

Nobu'tan nodded, it made sense. "When shall we strike," he asked. It was the only piece of information he required.

"Shortly after the messenger is sent out to inform the Bonechewers that we are coming," Teg'Ramm replied, "better to make sure they are not going to be surprised by our attack."

Nobu'tan nodded, "It would make things potential less complicated. Send for me when we move out, and I will make my own way there and meet the attack group at the entrance to the Blood Furnace."

"As you command Lord Nobu'tan," Teg'Ramm replied, before backing out of the chamber and departing.

Nobu'tan turned back to the fuming cauldron, thinking on what was going to transpire soon. In due time he might at last find some of the answers he sought regarding this world, or at the least discover the source of the massive nexus that was powering this Fel Horde.

Pouring a vial of blackened powder into the cauldron, Nobu'tan stared into the swirling liquid, observing the reactions and waiting for the right moment to place the entire cauldron into stasis for bottling.

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

Velen paced across the wide throne room in the center of Stormwind Keep, lost in thought. The human guards were at a loss whether to permit him to do so, but the presence of the Draenei Vindicators was enough to prevent them from disturbing Velen as he pondered what he had seen in the eyes of the young human female.

In the purity of the little girl, the Draenei Prophet had foreseen the very end of times, where the Light finally triumphed over the Void Lords and their endless darkness. Long had Velen dwelled on these events, and the dangers that entailed the end of their era of war.

He had already seen that Aduin would be the great leader of the Army of the Light, uniting all races and peoples starting here on Azeroth, and radiating through the Nether until they triumphed forever, but never had he known who would stand at the currently young prince's side.

But now his vision was clearer. At the side of the great pillar of the Light that Anduin would become stood the child of Malfoy, tall and beautiful, magical strength radiating from her through her mighty bloodline. The enemies of the Light would seek her life, to prevent the united front that these two would become in their lifetimes.

Velen knew where his place was at this point, he would help guide each of them in their time, and bestow upon them some of the Light's grace. The vision was not full and complete, not by a long shot, but seeing those figures of most importance were enough for him to be content.

Soon enough he heard the approaching footsteps of both King Varian and Lady Proudmoore, and the Draenei Prophet turned to face them, "I apologize again for disturbing the festivities, it was not my intent to intrude so suddenly."

"Anduin was pleased to meet you, so all is forgiven," Lady Proudmoore said, although the King was silent on the matter. "What is it that you desired to discuss with us, Prophet?"

"I needed to ask about the third faction, this Dark Horde, and their leader Nobu'tan." Velen explained, catching the exchanged glance between Sorceress and King.

"That is a large topic to discuss, and even we do not understand every part of it." Jaina replied.

"Can he be trusted, with his power bound so closely to that of the Legion?" Velen pressed, getting to the very heart of his misgivings.

"I'm not certain," Varain said gruffly, "There are many times that he has fought alongside us, both with his armies and alone, but at the same time we know little of him, and suspect much."

"I feel that I understand some of his mind," Lady Proudmoore added, "and I can emphasize with his plight in some fashion. He would not turn on us without reason, and as long as we show ourselves as open to working with them. Peace is part of what he, and the Malfoys through him, desire above all else."

Velen nodded, although he was still hesitant. "If it would be possible, I wish to meet with this Nobu'tan, one-on-one, with no guards or observers. There are things that I must understand, including why he is not part of any of the visions I have seen for millennia."

"While I cannot speak for Nobu'tan, I will certainly convey the message at the next opportunity." Lady Proudmoore stated, "If I am correct in my guess, he is still in Outland…"

Velen narrowed his eyes, "accomplishing what I wonder?"

"We could only guess," Varian said, "but if I am to do so, I would say that they are claiming territory for themselves, and Nobu'tan would be trying to connect with the orcish heritage that he feels so connected to."

Velen thought hard. It was disturbing that there had been no visions that included this figure, and how prominent he had been before the Draenei arrived on Azeroth. "Then I will go and meet with him directly, in Outland."

If the two humans were thinking of what the Prophet's next move would be, then they were not thinking that he would do this. Even stoic Varian was surprised. "I do not know if any visitor would be welcome in their outpost…" Jaina said hesitantly.

"Nevertheless, I must speak with this Nobu'tan as soon as possible." Velen stated, "I depart for the Portal now, if you'd care to join me when it's convenient, you would be most welcome Lady Proudmoore."

"I… of course, I will meet you outside the portal on the Azeroth side," she said, glancing at the King for a moment.

"Until then Sorceress… Majesty," Velen said, nodding to the pair of them, before turning and departing the Keep, his Vindicators at his side.

The troubling lack of vision drove him to this, and Velen realized that this would be particularly dangerous for him to return to Outland so soon after they had escaped. Kael'thas and his elves would stop at nothing to capture him for Kil'jaeden. And if what he suspected about Nobu'tan and the Dark Horde were correct, he could be in equal danger meeting with them.

But he had to know where this Nobu'tan, the human with orcish mannerisms, fell into the grand scheme of the Light's triumph over all its foes.

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

Blaise was not terribly sure about Teg'Ramm's plan for assaulting the Hellfire Citadel. But Lord Nobu'tan had effectively refused to take control of the assault because of his raging emotions. The assassin of the Dark Horde couldn't place what the reason for such a dire turn in their leader's personality.

Still, he and Garona would follow Nobu'tan lead, and participate in the elimination of their foes on the ramparts of the citadel while others entered the various important facilities that the Shattered Hand had claimed for themselves.

Aishe Feltalon and her warped Veela were to assist their attack, picking off those who had any chance of spotting the two rogues as they stalked through the Fel orc sentries to pick off the leadership.

Nobu'tan had a hope that if they destroyed the leaders of the Shattered Hand, the rest would fall leaderless into their Dark Horde, effectively merging into their more powerful force. Blaise was skeptical, after seeing the salivating and feral warriors patrolling the walls, that these would even be effective as anything but fodder for their enemies.

It was almost child's play to navigate around the orcs, Garona keeping pace with him as they kept to the shadows. The only issue came across the first rickety bridge that the orcs used to patch a hole in the ramparts.

Several wolves were being kept, and there was little that Blaise could do to easily conceal his scent from their detection. They had little choice but to eliminate them outright. Lifting his wand, Blaise subtly conjured sparks in the air, signaling the Fel Veela to strike the location.

With a sharp screech, they appeared swiftly. The Fel orcs and their wolves snapped their heads skyward, snarling as the sickeningly green avian-women dove into their midst, lashing out with Fel magic and talons.

The distraction was more than effective to allow the two rogues to slip through undetected, curving around a low point in the ramparts and on to the next long encampment. Blaise felt little pity for the large numbers of Bonechewer and Bleeding Hollow Fel orcs that were intermixed with a sparing number of Shattered Hand clan members. If a few were harmed to take control of the ramparts, then so be it.

"Do you smell that?" a voice shouted from the far side of the camp, and a hulking Fel orc started walking through the forest of metal and tents that littered the top of the stone walls, "Fresh meat has somehow breached our citadel. Be wary of any intruders!"

The wrist mounted blades on the Fel orc's arms signified that he was indeed a Shattered Hand orc, and of a leadership position in the Fel Horde, making him a primary target for the pair of assassins.

A pair of casters walked with the leader as he started inspecting the various tents and defenses, their staffs giving off magical gleam: likely some manner of support for their leader, and wearing the insignia of the Shatter Hand on their robes.

Nodding toward them for Garona's sake, Blaise started forward, drawing his blades and muttering spells under his breath to coat them in poison.

Garona mirrored him, and they waited for the leader to pass by their position, giving them a clear path to the two helper orcs. In unison, the two assassins leapt forward, planting poisoned daggers deeply into the caster's bodies, taking them out of the fight well before the leader could react.

"What have we here?" the warrior leader shouted, whirling on them and slashing with his blade-arms in a wide arc. The two rogues dodged back, Garona executing a flip with her heightened agility, before swiftly repositioning to attack the massive orc.

Their daggers flashed downward, but only one of their four made contact, armor and the heavy blades blocks the others as the Fel orc revealed his incredible speed. "Back off pup!" he bellowed, throwing Garona back, and turning his full rage onto Blaise, swinging wildly with the bladed arms.

To outright block any of them would be the end of him, and therefore Blaise dodged, weaved around the hulking attacks, parrying away what he dared and allowing the glancing blows to slide useless off his enchanted weapons.

"You dare think you can stop the power of the Fel Horde!" the Fel orc laughed, bringing both arms down heavily where Blaise had been standing moments before leaping away, "We are the future, and the Lord Illidan grants us great power!"

Switching his daggers into an upright grip, Blaise smirked. "You have no idea what powers we command…" he said, already allowing the Fel to empower him. His fatigue departed, and he rose to his full height, the brilliant green energy leaping from his blades like flames, "The Stormreavers have returned! And we are the rulers of the Horde, all other are pretenders. Your masters will fall at the feet of Nobu'tan, greatest student of Gul'dan, and you petty fools who resist, will die!"

All the Fel orcs heard his shouts, and watched in shock as Blaise leapt into the air, allowing the Fel to take him, and became a whirlwind of blades and chaotic energy. If the Fel orc brute thought he was fast, he had never witnessed anything, Blaise thought savagely, even as he easily avoided all the swings of his opponent, cutting deeply with the poisoned and now Fel-cursed blades. Dozens of slices and cuts started to appear on his opponent's flesh, Blaise finding every joint and gap in the armor that the hulking creature wore, and capitalizing on them.

"Assist me you fools!" the Fel orc shouted at the onlookers of both the Bonechewer and Bleeding Hollow Clans, but none dared advance on the two Stormreaver assassins, even as Garona returned to the fray, sinking her own blades into the back of the Fel orc's meaty neck.

"Heal me! Quickly!" the orc shouted desperately, even as he sank to his knees, the poison and curses taking full effect from the raining blows. The Shattered Hand orc could do little but try pitifully to defend himself from the flashing blades, but soon enough he perished with a gurgling moan of intense pain.

Blaise landed from his last attack, alert for any attempt to attack them from the surrounding onlookers, and allowed the Fel to run its course through his and dissipate. "It seems I underestimated your skills," Garona said, almost smirking in her own way as she walked past him, through the knots of Fel orcs, who fell away and allowed her to pass.

Blaise huffed, and followed the Master Assassin as they started deeper into the bastion of the ramparts over the citadel. Any moment the others would begin their attacks, and these walls needed to be clear to allow their full forces to enter.

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

Lucius nodded to himself, looking over the stack of finished paperwork that encompassed all the region of Arathi, and their small holdings in the Hinterlands with the Amani Trolls and their lesser tribe allies.

Everything in the north was in order, and all was quiet as far as their enemies were concerned. Standing and stretching, Lucius knew that his work was only starting, as he now needed to return to Blackrock and start afresh with their southern strongholds. With most of their leaders away establishing their front into Outland, and from what Lucius alone knew following the demands of their demon masters, it left the pureblood lord to manage all of their Azeroth territory on his own, with minimal help from those lesser members of the Black Harvest and their allied chieftains and leaders.

Turning sharply, he apparated from Stromgarde to his personal study in the mountain fortress, and walked to the window to look out over the wide ash plains of the Burning Steppes. All seemed as it was when he last looked over it, the various bases, villages, and training camps busily at work and functioning as expected.

There was one new set of structures, however, and Lucius looked closer at the pale grey group of tents and pavilions that stood in the center of the region. The silver sun emblem told him exactly who they belonged to, and he smirked. The paladins of the Argent Dawn seemed to have found more than sufficient initiates for their training, and were doing exactly as they had promised Lord Nobu'tan.

Curious, Lucius apparated once more, down to the ground outside the sea of tents, and walked inside. The numbers he found gathered around the paladins, training and reading texts that they had brought were actually quite large. The pureblood was impressed. Clearly the Argent Dawn had made an impression of the orcs of the Dark Horde with their willingness to aid even them.

There were even Amani Trolls and a handful of ogres, both warriors and magi, in attendance. Most were very young, fresh into their years of majority, but some old veterans were present as well. The only one that Lucius recognized was the old blacksmith of the Blackrock clan, Bannok Grimaxe.

They all stood or sat near the human paladin, listening to him tell of the Light, its blessings and how they could practice reaching out to tap into its energies. "The Light cannot be forced, or commanded to serve," he said, "it can only be beckoned upon, implored for its aid and once granted, you will never want to be separated from it again."

"It reminds me of the shaman of old Draenor…" Bannok commented, "They would call upon the elements to aid them, and if they received power, it was magnificent to behold."

"Such is it with the Light," the Paladin agreed, smiling at the old orc, "great power can be taken by force, it is true, the Fel and the Arcane are examples of this… even Death itself can be forced to bow to a whim… but far greater power must be freely given, and the Light can and does overcome all others in this."

"I feel something," one of the Blackrock orcs announced, drawing all eyes to him. A young orc slowly rose to his feet, staring at his own hands, even as a glittering white radiance started to softly emanate from the grey-green hands, "I can feel it!" the orc shouted, even as a golden aura surged around him. Lucius could sense the Light, manifesting from pure belief and willingness to serve, and was impressed.

He had not thought that it would be possible for orcs to wield the Light, after their corruption by the Fel, but for those who had had only the smallest taste, or who had been long separated from it, there seemed to be hope.

"Congratulations, young Savgald," the human said, beckoning the initiate forward, "The Light has answered your call, and you are chosen to serve."

"By all the power of the Light, I will protect my brethren, both of the Dark Horde, and all of Azeroth!" Savgald shouted, even as the light intensified, pouring from hands and eyes.

"I can see your devotion is pure," the Argent Dawn Paladin said, "and I name you paladin. Bear the Flame of Righteousness to your people, Savgald Brightsteel!"

The assembled orcs roared in celebration, many meaty hands slapping the new orc paladin in congratulations. Emboldened by the success of one of their own, slowly others started to manifest the same miraculous power, until a great number had embraced the Light's power, and were declared priests and paladins of the Dark Horde.

Even old Bannok succeeded, weeping as he felt the power in his hands. "A new Clan I declare!" he shouted, raising the glowing limb, "A light among the Dark Horde. We shall form the bonds of brother and sisterhood, and become the Dawn's Hammer! For the Dark Horde, and for Azeroth!"

"I shall inform Tirion of this development," the human paladin said, clapping Bannok on the arm, "We shall need many more instructors if we are to accomplish something as bold as this."

The other newfound wielders of the Light roared their approval, and Lucius looked on in amazement as they joined as one. The Dark Horde had just expanded their power once more, in a fashion that the Legion would never suspect. This new Dawn's Hammer Clan would be the executioners of Nobu'tan judgment against those who had declared themselves the masters of the orcish race.

Smirking, Lucius quietly departed, bound for his office once more, to draft a letter to Nobu'tan about this new and most welcome development.

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

Teg'Ramm saw the sparks rising into the air over the ramparts of Hellfire Citadel. Green, signaling that the assassins and Feltalon's forces had started their attack, and the way would be clear for them to advance.

"Forward!" Teg bellowed, hurrying along the Fel Centaur in his company, along with the few Blackrock orcs and others that he had permitted to join him. The Shattered Halls, or so the Fel orcs called the maze of corridors that led to the heart of the ruined citadel, was to be the most perilous of the three-pronged attack that he had organized.

Nobu'tan would have excelled here, but Teg'Ramm knew that he was needed in the Blood Furnace, to understand what was giving the Fel Horde their power, and deal with it appropriately. No, he had to be the one to cut the head of the beast that ruled these orcs. Judging from the title given, and the Clan that made up the majority of the Fel orcs here, Teg'Ramm speculated that it could only be the legendary Kargath Bladefist that commanded the Fel Horde.

It would not be an easy fight, let along actually getting to the orc leader, but the ogre mage had plenty of contingencies to ease their passage. Still, the ruthlessness of the first Shattered Hand guards they found was still surprising. Ogre Shaman had to work hard to keep their melee fighters alive from the savagery of the Fel Orcs' onslaughts.

Turning the first corner from the entrance to the halls, Teg'Ramm shook his head, "I will not permit too many of us from facing that head on," he commented, sizing up the massive garrison ahead of them. The orcs were well prepared and had seemed to suspect an attack already.

"Warlocks, summon our reinforcements," Ramm ordered, even as Teg started chanting his own spell. Nether Portals ripped open from the half-dozen warlocks of various races, and the demons that they had pressed into the service of the Order of the Black Harvest surged forward, Felguards and Felhunters leapt into action, while imps clustered in large groups and hurled their fireballs into the chaotic melee.

"Edgran, charge their flanks while they're distracted," Teg'Ramm ordered, and the Fel Centaur leader bellowed a cry of rage, even as his kind galloped forward, arrows flying from their bows and long spear jutting forward to impale those foolish enough to stand in their way.

The rest of the attack force followed quickly, mopping up what stragglers survived the charge and the Legion's forces. "Keep your eyes open for hidden assassins," the ogre lord reminded them. The Bleeding Hollow had been more than willing to tell all of what the Fel Horde Warchief had in his arsenal. The contingent of hidden assassins hiding through the halls of the fortress was among the greatest concerns for Teg'Ramm.

With the demon pushing forward, the entire line moved through the opening chambers. By the time they had turned the next corner, they had already dealt with four different attempts of stealthy Fel orcs trying to ambush them. Luckily, their vigilance had prevailed and the assassins had been more than crushed.

Now however, they stared at a massive iron gate, which imposed itself in their progress. There was a side chamber that dropped into a sewer of some sort, but Teg'Ramm was not in the mood to go wading through whatever muck the Fel orcs thought beneath them to deal with.

"This pathetic barricade will not stop us…" he growled, allowing the Fel energy to build up inside him. His clawed hand spread, spikes and other empowerments surging into being, even as Teg'Ramm passed his staff to a nearby ogre and grasped the gate with both hulking hands. With a roar of rage, he wrenched backward.

Slowly the groaning of metal rose from the gate, and one by one the bindings fixing it to the stone gave way, until with a final jerking tug, the entire door came away, and Teg'Ramm threw it heavily into the chamber beyond, startling several Fel orcs that were inside, and crushing at least two of them.

Inside, a robed Fel orc warlock laughed as two others cowered away from the destroyed door. "Ah, what a waste…" the warlock said, watching the twitching limbs of the crushed minions, "next!"

Teg'Ramm could tell instantly that this warlock was insane, the power of the Fel having consumed the weak mind. Stepping inside, Teg'Ramm focused on the fool, who seemed completely unperturbed by the massive Fel ogre mage that had approached him.

Hurling a bolt of chaos at the orc, Teg'Ramm roared in anger, stomping forward to destroy the foe preventing them from progressing. He needn't guess that this Fel orc was beyond rationality, and would not be of any use to the Dark Horde, so he would eliminate him quickly.

"You wish to fight us all at once?" the Fel orc asked, laughing as he dodged the spell, "This should be fun! Attack you weaklings!"

The smaller orcs did not hesitate to obey, but were crushed by the slamming staff as another ogre warlock swept them aside. The Fel pounded in Teg'Ramm's veins, and he had to expel it soon. Facing off against this warlock would do well to accomplish that without too much change to his physical form.

"Come on, show me a real fight!" the orc taunted, flinging shadow spells around the room indiscriminately.

Teg'Ramm threw up a shield of Felfire, absorbing the dark magic and pressed forward, closing the distance between himself and the Fel orc warlock.

Slamming his fist downward, an eruption of demonic energy flew in all directions, knocking the Fel orc backward, and causing small spikes of warped stone, glowing with the Fel, to erupt from the ground.

"Oh… this is going to be fun…" the warlock replied, taking Teg'Ramm far more seriously.

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

Nobu'tan had acted swiftly once the signal was given, entering the halls of the Blood Furnace, along with the handful of guards that had been assigned to him. He did not feel they would be needed, but it was not his plan to change, and he accepted that Teg'Ramm felt he needed backup in the event of unforeseeable circumstances.

Stepping forward into the first chamber, the Grand Warlock of the Stormreavers immediately senses the hidden assassins that littered the massive staircase in front of them. The two Fel orc guards trembled as he permitted his form to shift to its true nature.

Raising his horned head to look up the staircase, Nobu'tan spoke, "You will not hinder me," he ordered, seeming to terrify the orcs before him. Judging from the markers on their armor, he could tell that these orcs were from another clan that never entered Azeroth: The Laughing Skull Clan. Curious that there was yet another clan wrapped up in the Shattered Hand's bid for power.

"I am the heir of Gul'dan, chieftain of the Stormreavers and leader of the Dark Horde of Azeroth…" Nobu'tan announced, stepping forward as the guards held their ground, "I demand passage with my guards to speak with your leader…"

The Fel orcs lowered their weapons, out of self preservation more than anything, and Nobu'tan sniffed once in disdain, before setting off up the stairs. He allowed the Fel to flow before and behind him like a cloak, and none of the hidden rogues and assassins dared make themselves known.

More guards were at the top of the stairs, and beyond them a wide overlook that peered down to a central chamber. The orc warlocks in the overlook peered curiously as Nobu'tan approached, and their symbols caused the Grand Warlock to raise an eyebrow. "Shadowmoon warlocks…" he said, "Interesting…"

Walking to the edge of the large window, he looked over the side, where another collection of warlocks were channeling power into a large pentagram around a central figure. The magic tasted much like that the Black Harvest used frequently to bind demons to their will, but on a much larger scale.

Beneath them, through the floor that had many holes in it to permit viewing was a massive demon held under magical bindings. "How long do you think your pathetic sorcery can hold me?!" bellowed the voice from far below.

"A Pitlord…" Nobu'tan said in surprise. "That explains much… I must speak to your leader…" he added, turning toward the next chamber.

Naturally it was his aura of Fel that forced the Shadowmoon orcs to part ways before him, rather than his words, but their fear was useful to him for the time being.

Unfortunately, it seemed that the first obstacle was quickly approaching. A large Mo'arg, the engineers of the Legion, was stalking around the far side of the large room, muttering incoherently to itself as its mechanical, claw-like arm clanked and snapped.

It paused when Nobu'tan entered the room, turned sickly toward him with a lopsided smile, "You are beautiful…" it said clearly, before stalking forward toward Nobu'tan.

"The Fel has meshed with you perfectly, human…" the demons said, reaching forward with the claw to examine Nobu'tan's body.

The Grand Warlock stepped back, "I take it you are responsible for the conversation of this Fel Horde's warriors, then…" he presumed.

"I am the Maker, yes…" the Mo'arg replied, "I improve all with the Fel… Could even improve you, make you stronger."

"No," Nobu'tan rejected, brushing the clawed hand away sharply, "I cannot be delayed in my business with the leader here. Let me pass."

"My work must not be interrupted!" the Maker shouted, swinging its claw angrily. Nobu'tan dodged, even as the crazed creature scuttled back to block the doorway ahead.

Sighing in irritation, Nobu'tan raised his clawed hands. The Fel came to him in a rush, forming spheres of green flames. If the deranged demon was going to block their path, then it would have to be destroyed. The Fel orcs ran from the room even as he stepped forward, hurling each as massive Fel fireballs at the Mo'arg.

Swatting each of the spells with its mechanical arms, the Maker was smiling as it charged, "Anger… Hate… These are tools I can use," it taunted, swinging sharply to try and club Nobu'tan with the stumped arm.

Aetish swung mightily, knocking the crushing arm off its trajectory, even as Nobu'tan leapt backward with a flap of his wings. Those guards with him charged in to create a buffer between the demon and their leader, even as Nobu'tan returned to the offensive, hurling a barrage of spells and Fel energy over the heads of his minions.

"More subjects! More!" the Mo'arg shouted, seeming delighted at the orcs, trolls, and other Dark Horde warriors that imposed themselves in the center of the conflict.

Nobu'tan sighed, tired of these petty interruptions, even as the Pit Lord far below roared in irritation.