Cloaked under a veil of masterfully crafted magic, a tall, muscur, cloveure of blue skin stood frowning, a pair of baleful green eyes glowing darkly. Two fingers, ending in dark cws, massaged a sharp from which two smooth, fleshy tentacles grew.
"Mannoroth failed then. Disappointing, very disappointing. I will personally oversee his punishment ohis pitiful world is ed." The demonic being said, g his every word with displeasure, sadistiticipation, and utter disi, harmonizing in their dreadful tradis.
The nearby demons tensed up at the irritation. At any moment, the demon lord could sh out. And an outburst of their master could be as deadly as any bde through the heart of a mortal to them. It wouldn't be the first or st, and it was a blessed mirao perma death was reported yet.
"I plead not for him, Lord Archimonde, but his ck of success wasn't his inability to have fallen arius. My timely advice to use the orcs bore fruit, and the demi-god and his servants' corpses are currently being processed by the Sce by my and." Through a rippling green s, the smaller demonic being answered, separating the victories as, as the truth be hidden.
Cloven legs and a muscur build were their only simirities as two long curved horns adorned his hairless head while rge tattered wings grew from his back. He was a nathrezim and his master an eredar and not of any lowly breed.
"Is that so, Tidrius? Excellent, I will be merciful then. The mongrel would have proven to be an annoying thorn. Then expin. Was it that elf's doing?" Archimonde asked–almost spat–a venomous edge to his voice that the leader of the dreadlord half away across Northern Kalimdor felt his namesake.
Dread. But Tidrius didn't let it appear, lest it be used against him—or worse.
"Unlikely, my Lord. Clues point to another of those ageless beasts, a rge bat painted in primitive runes. Mannoroth gave chase, abandoning his station, only to be swiftly defeated by it. If he killed the bat iurn, I do not know." Tidrius expined coldly, but it wasn't outside of expectations.
The Lord of the Pit Lords was a simple creature of destru aation. Arrogant to a fault, to the point of blindness at times. Left alo wasn't surprising that the pit lord acted wildly.
He wasn't key to the success of this invasion, but his loss was undesired.
Still, it was to be hat the battle, while unforeseen and unseen, was almost ingly quick. There were few creatures ih able to defeat Mannoroth in a direct frontation with such effectiveness.
And it remained uain of the nature of this native; little was seen after, regardless of whether it was to be culled if alive.
On this same subject, the dreadlord had ao speak about, and there weren't identification problems this time.
"Ursol is in the northmost area of Ashehough the mut is tent to cower in his den with his beastly mortals. Guarding them, but otherwise, he is subdued. He knows of our prese is tent to stay still." The nathrezim enunciated with a frown, his eyes staring into the Defiler's baleful own with the perfect menge of submissiveness, respect, and pride.
The Bear Lord acted strangely, to say the least.
It hardly was this alohe furbolg, or the almost ck thereof in Ashenvale, was another point directly tied to the above. The bear men would have been untrolble thralls, but simple-minded feral meat shields were quite valuable in their own throay.
They would have served among the Burning Legion's first seeds of chaos and softehe elves, killing by themselves thousands of thousands and ravaging their settlements.
Evidently, this became an impossibility. The furbolgs in targeted areas did a mass exodus of improbable swiftness and great anizatioively to any of that.
Not all of them mao escape the grasp of the Legion, but those were unlucky ones' and their numbers were aal at best pared to what could have been. Tribes further away were of no substantial use of how they reacted to corruption and were left to their pointless mortal existences.
It nned and directly to where the Wise Bear was, orchestrated by him under all evidehere were a lot of suppositions and hypotheses to be drawn, but none of substance beyond the Wild God's awareness of the Legion.
"Observe and remai, avoid reckless e. His little cave be ignored. As is, he's insequential. tinue your mission. Pluhese woods into decay and hellfire. When I shatter this i world, none of this shall matter." Sargeras's right hand rumbled, his tone indig nothing but agreement would be accepted as an answer.
And it would be less than a swift endeavor. Archimonde could feel the substantial magi here. It was a massive spell-bound underground shelter that was her worth the time nor mao destroy or quer.
Unless he went himself there, but it was built in such a way he would damage Nordrassil, diminishing what he could ge himself upon.
An ineered beast pen was all it was and all it would be sidered as.
"By your will, Lord Archimonde, I obey." Tidrius bowed deeply, and the discussio on from logistics ties with the death of the vast majority of satyrs, the pit lord Azgalor sent to repce Mannoroth, and such regarding the perfe of the invasion.
The eredar overlord could teleport to the World Tree atop Mount Hyjal and ge himself in its potent energies or cast spells and engrave rituals to purify Kalimdor of its purulent nature and so much more.
But he didn't proceed as such; the dragons–the Aspects–would violently react, and while their defeat from their current ughable state was assured, there was no reason to give his hand away. The vain flying lizards were hardly the only potential annoyance if Archimonde were to act rashly.
The same problem was to potentially damaging his feast. It would be uable.
And why waste such delightful despair aable agony to escape his grand presehe demon lord was not blind to this facet of his and reveled in it.
?????
At the same time, uhe twin moonlight of Azeroth's natural satellites, a vast camp of various races was at the base of Stoalon Peak. Green-skinned, muscur humanoids–orcs–were the most numerous, making up the vast majority of this strange group, whereas trolls and taurens stituted barely a seventh of the orumber.
At the heart of this encampment was a rge leather tent, and withihe two leaders of the above–Vol'jin, the Chieftain of the Darkspear tribe being down South tending to his people–around a carved boulder serving as a table for their veo join the mysterious Oracle and hear of his revetion.
Yet there was a substantial difficulty at hand.
"Our wyvern allies would help, but blood would flow." Thrall, the Warchief of the Horde muttered with a frown as he stared at the bare-bone representation on an even mh map.
It was where the Alliance fragments had id camp. They trolled multiple caverrances leading to the inside of this rge mountaihe Oracle was.
They o reae to proceed onward, and the most accessible way in the humans, with speckles of high elves, dwarves, and even fewer grones' hands. Bdes would csh—that was iable.
"As, that is the unforturuth, my orc friend." A massive elderly male tauren rumbled pensively; this was the Chieftain of the Bloodhoof, e. He had no love for viole his preferetered little at present.
It could all have been potentially avoided if not frommash's bloodlust, but it was far too te. It was far from desired, but diplomacy was virtually impossible. Then, a voice echoed in the war tent, fusing all.
"Warchief! Some straaurens wish to speak with you!"
The son of Durotan paused; his gaze moved to the old tauren for any answers, and it came in an unhelpful shrug. Clearly, her had a clue of what that meant.
"Tell them to e then. I wish to hear what they have to say." Thrall decred after a long sed of internal debate. Many thoughts in his mind were of the same variety as the Bloodhoof patriarbsp;
However, little could be guessed. The Stoalon Mountains were vast and home to many taurens, some in small groups to eribes, one of which wasn't any lesser than the Bloodhoof. It could be anyone for any reason, though Thrall would be lying if he didn't hope it was to assist the Horde.
Soon after, an elderly female tauren with a grey muzzle walked in with serene and fident steps. Her body was a simple robe of various leather held together by elegant ptes of a silver-like metal. In her hand was a wooden staff, vibrating with the wild power of the elements.
To her left was a massive muscle-bound bull gring promise of violeh at everything daring to get too close to his mistress. His bck fur and red face paint were easily visible through a light armor of leather, wood, and a far duller metal. A bde fitting his size was strapped to his waist, and calling it a hunk of steel on a stick would have been more appropriate.
"Magatha…" e whispered first in Taur-ahe, his pupils thinning to dots, maions within that spoke of old and plex personal history. This peculiarity didn't go unnoticed by the young orc.
"e." The one named responded in kind, her voice measured and cold with a smile–a sneer and a smirk yet polite at on her lips. No further word was exged as her eyes shifted to the young Warchief, studying and scrutinizing him.
He was strong in every aspect that mattered, that much she could tell. Among if not the stro shaman she had ever met, and that demanded a degree of respect. He was young and inexperienced, but this was no reason to uimate him: a promising young one and a dangerous individual.
"I'm Magatha, Elder e of the Grimtotem tribe, and I have to e bearing ill hat I believe you would be heavily ied in," Magatha said in a mildly softer tohe nguage of the elements giving the three before her the ability to uand for two were shamans–if one of worse than mediocre abilities–and the st a shadow hunter.
"Throm'Ka honored Elder e. I'm Thrall and Warchief of the Horde. What is it you wish to inform me of?" The young orc leader queried, and his seriousness and direess pleased the old cow.
"Knowledge my porary seemed to have failed to mention to an outnder like you and the sequences born of this failure of his." She answered matter of factly, her sharp gaze shifting back to the Bloodhoof Chieftain whose fusion grew in limitless amounts with irritation.
"Then, do enlighten me, Magatha," e spoke with far more heat Thrall ever believed his ever-sereauren friend was capable of. And at that to a powerful shaman, so powerful in fact he was uain if he could win against her in a duel.
Magatha openly sneered in response before it shifted to a self-assured smirk as she tapped her staff on the ground, making it shake. Then, a rge bck owl that went unnoticed until now silently glided down.
It nded behind her before morphing, to everyone's shock–the Bloodhoof tauren in particur, of which e hardly believed his own eyes–into a lightly armored female tauren. She was barely on the cusp of adulthood and had physical characteristics simir to those of the older female.
"Hagatha, if you will?" Her granddaughter wordlessly obeyed and gave the Grimtotem mistress a wooden g from which a map was unbound and given to the male orbsp;
"By the spirits… No…" Thrall openly gasped as he studied the magnifit map, though its craftsmanship was sed to the information given to him. Elegantly writteers transted in simplified Kalimag that told the tale of which was what and what was which.
e was silent, but the word horror dispyed his striking realization. An image Magatha found herself enjoying. She was barely holding her desire to push him down further, but this catharsis wouldn't be worth the price.
"Surely those kaldorei should uand the y of lumber, revered shaman?" The young orc shaman asked, worry tainting his voice, but it was evident he didn't believe a pleasant answer was ing.
Hagatha snorted, and the Elder e did much the same, but it was the oldest taure that shattered this frail hope. It would be a bottomless well of schadenfreude fatha if the life of all on the Earthmother weren't at stake.
"Ashenvale is deeply sacred to them, my friend, and Grommash is… your brother is… too inpatible for delicate diplomacy. My most sincere apologies, Thrall… it had eluded my mind to warn you of them. I have no excuse. You may punish this old bull as you see fit." The rge tauren bowed deeply in shame and guilt, a sight that wasn't without effect.
'Pathetic. He has truly grown sehen.' The matriarch thought. She was disappointed but not surprised. She wasn't ignorant of potential reasons, but they ultimately resonated with the greatest sin: inpetence. Something e had nht to have as someone she had long sidered as an equal.
A tiny part of her was saddened, but it was minimal to the delightful spectacle.
"No. No, the bme is as muy shoulder, e. I shouldn't have ordered the Warsong to do this. I have failed and should have been more inquisitive of this unknown nd." The young Warchief procimed, pg a hand on his friend's shoulder. His grasp was firm yet soft.
He focused baagatha and asked, "There must be a way to peace between our people."
"Your people, yes." She pointed out, "The night elves are allies of the Grimtotem, as are the furbolgs. I have e to avoid further escation with the Horde even after the murder of one of their demi-gods and early burhe diplomatic attempt of a druid of mine by this 'Grommash' you call a brother in the process murdering hundreds of mines and thousands of elves and creatures of the wild. Yet I desire no senseless war. View this as my offer of goodwill, a pardon for your mistakes as those times we live i too such foolishness."
Another shog revetion to e that expined far too much to be anything except the bonafide truth if the tauren druid present right there wasn't enough. And it firmed many rumors he had heard and mostly ignored until then.
It wasn't any less impag to Thrall, whose visage worsened every sed, growing uglier and uglier from anger and despondenbsp;
Unknown to him, Elder e didn't tell him the far more accurate and horrifying plete truth, such as proverbial betrayal and highly likely willing demonic corruption.
Not out of any particur malice or twisted mercy, but the matriarew the orcish warlord's reaight be explosive if it was her who revealed it.
Uably, it was dangerous, and from her uanding of orcs–small as it might be–there was one ce out of two he would blindly attack. His current state of mind wasn't the clearest as well, and the crackle of electricity on his war hammer poio that possibility.
It wouldn't have beeire truth, either. The night elves started the attack, and the Warsong were ignorant, but pointing fingers was asi best.
And Magatha doubted that this Hellscream orc would have agreed to passively leave the a forest alone if politely asked and expio him.
"This is my farewell then." And at this simple statement, the Elder e walked away, the two Grimtotem taurens following behind, leaving the clearing in a pregnant silence.
The_Bip_Boop2003
Thanks, EmilBigErk, Mike Stewart, BzeSavage, Jeff Fischer, Hope Bain, Tommyether, Qewin, MaJlooo, Marcos darjog, Vesco De Magalh?es Júnior, Vex, 124f5, Joshua Crowell, John Parker, Michael Carter, Croc, Vampoodle, Marcus Traynor, Kunta, Nezih Süze, 白酒鬼, Zekitz, PeerlessCaster, Devon Emmons, Jarvis Schellinger, Lucky 13, Echo54g, Anima506, jacob griffin, Mitch, Cameron Youngman, TheFuzzySamurai, Grey Heart, Marc Smith, James Wood, Proxy, Kurgarraz, Tim Hall, Gal Anonim, léroy jenkins, Tobias, Jose Matos, Alex pritchard, Falk Hüser, SirSp, Sam Mbya, Alexander Amann, Man Robertson, Aaron Taylor, Mika Willems, Brian Beard, JchuckS, Wold Layman, Gee Dean, Nateica Burlock, Wildvoid, andre, Eioe, Scarletmenace, Pilot Pirx, er Ja, Thomas Dey, Asura, Gronnr, Lucas Gossett, ton Jenkins, Desote, Tristan Nadeau, Mest450, Ang, Sabypyz, charlie wagner, SwiftFate, Hedgeboar, JJ JJ, Linus Bengtssone, Mason for the support it's greatly appreciated.
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