New Dominion (Warcraft)

[Zam]

A Villages Unseen Guest
A semi-canon side story, exploring some of the on the ground ramifications of the Scourges fall and the Drakkari conquest's.
​

The streets of Vandermar Village were starting to bustle; it was only natural, as the winter chill wore off there were jobs left to be done if anyone wanted to be eating or wearing cleans clothes in the coming weeks and months. The wary and watchful would be able to see scattered figures of gargantuan height and mass, some lazily patrolling the village or standing stiff like statues. The 'Drakkari' had been there so long some folks were starting to even get used to them.

Not Gregory though, Greg to his friends, a brawny man with a red dusted hair and beard, strode through the village, his axe turned in at the bloody check in station as he made his way to the local tavern for lunch. As he walked, he waved at the people he knew and nodded grimly at the whispers of a murder most foul that while days old was still on people's lips.

He didn't let discomfort at the memory of it show though, not with the trolls and their pet wolverines ambling about. Nope, Greg just carried on his way to the tavern as he did everyday, not quite on time but never far off.

Greg knew he wasn't a scholarly man, never had the money or mind for it, but he did like to think his life had given him plenty of common sense. A trait he found all too lacking as he spotted Robert, or maybe it was Tyler, selling one of the furry beasts some sausages.

Still, he did not shake his head or grumble as some did, no need to draw attention, not yet. Gregory knew better than most thanks to serving in the Second War with some very reliable men that while Trolls might be more patient and canny than the Orcs they were every bit as monstrous.

'We just gotta be more patient and much sneakier,' he told himself, stepping into the tavern where men caroused with the maids and drank freshly imported wines from the capital, a 'gift' sent to many villages by the trolls Warlord.

Greg didn't touch the stuff, home made cyder was his poison of choice and he said as much to the barmen, "Any cyder today old man?"

Nathan snorted, moustache bristling, "Got some in the back, take your fill, but know I counted them this morning, Greg!"

Greg waved off his old acquaintance and patted one of the pretty barmaids on the rear before striding into the back room, taking a hard right up the stairs and into the taverns large attic. Awaiting him was a man seated behind a humble desk, a man who knew the meaning of patience and cunning.

Daven Porter was a soldier of middling years and broad shoulders, with thinly cropped brown hair and a sharp jawline, he looked the very picture of a sturdy scout, used to roughing it behind enemy lines but skilled enough it hadn't worn him down. Which made sense, given he'd spent the Second War slitting Orcish throats in the Wetlands.

From what Gregory could tell and had heard, it was only common blood that kept him from going far. Of course, angering some Nobleman a few years after the war and finding his way into a capital jail cell until the city was sacked might have hindered him too.

'The bastards, Good King Teranas shoulda done away with the blighters, we're worth a thousand of them!' he thought, his very blood boiling at the knowledge so many had sworn themselves to the trolls. Who knew what fate awaited the royal ladies in the hands of beasts?

Daven met his gaze and chuckled motioning for him to sit, "Welcome again brother of the blade, and what has you scowling this morning?"

Damn it all, Gregory had been trying not to show his mood, "Nothing sir- I mean Daven, just... Just thinking about the poor Princess and Queen in the hands of those beasts, it riles me up."

"I can see your anger writ in your face, and yet I cannot help but think you are distracting yourself," Daven said, with that all too perceiving manner of his, hands clasping before him and an easy smile on his features.

Gregory swallowed but did not answer, so Daven pressed again, "What have you done for us, gallant Gregory."

His cheeks tinged, even as his gut churned and Gregory sighed, "Two nights ago, I bashed the head in of the town scholar, Jacob Mathews."

There was a light thumping noise and Gregory reared back at the sight of the humble wooden club, almost more suited for pounding dough than brains.

He shot up, "What are you thinking bringing that-" But stalled at Daven's sharp gaze and raised hand, dropping back to his seat.

"It is not the weapon you used to slay that simpering traitor, Gregory, we destroyed that after covering your escape. No, this was merely borrowed from the back room." Daven put the offending item away in a drawer and clasped his hands, "You understand why you need to keep control, I wouldn't have invited you to join our brotherhood if you didn't understand that much."

"I know sir- Daven, it won't happen again," He bit his tongue, "I will make sure of it, won't be surprised again."

Daven nodded, but sighed, "You still doubt your decision?"

Gregory shrugged, "They were your orders and for all that he was helping these Trolls, its still hard for me to see Jacobs as a bad sort. Just doing his job like the rest of us."

Daven chuckled, "When you do your job, you bring firewood and building materials to the village, when Jacobs did his, he helped these invaders control us and," Daven trailed off, "We needed to be sure you would do what needed to be done."

"For king and country?" Daven nodded with an easy smile and Greg said, "Anything."

"I knew you would, so don't let guilt weigh you down my friend," he was toying with something in his hand, "though you killed him it was necessary, I assure you."

Greg nodded, "Right you are, still wish we coulda made it look like one of them trolls did it, I hear some folks want to toss-em out now. There's so few after all, one spark could be all it takes."

Daven's smile became a sharp scowl that made Gregory near choke before a stern, military man was in front of him again, gently rising to his feet and striding around the dimly lit attic.

"Idle caterwauling and boasts at best, or doom for us all at worst," He turned and clapped his hands on Gregory's shoulders, "Because we have few weapons and even less organization. Even if we succeeded, their army would come for us and we'd lose everything."

Greg nodded hastily, "I understand, just saying what others have been."

Daven huffed and released his shoulders, "I hope if you're of the mind and opportunity to tell them how foolish that is that you will, "Greg nodded. "Good. The spark will be lit, in time and the flame will burn, but not before we are ready and not before we have removed anyone who might fight against us."

Gregory licked his lips, "You really think some of them would fight with the trolls?"

Daven shook his head forlornly, "I know they would, a cowards heart beats in many chests, its why we need to not only fight the trolls off, but show their collaborators the price of betrayal, of king and country,"

"... We then?" He asked, meeting the mans eyes.

Daven nodded, "We. You've proven your loyalty now my friend and thus have earned this," opening his palm and revealing a necklace marked with a small sword that looked like it was on fire, or maybe melting.

"Sir... isn't this one of those orcish clan trinkets?" Greg asked, wary to touch the item he'd been seeking so long.

"A replica only, but yes," Daven tossed it idly between his hands, "A clever ploy no? You fought in the Second War, and so you can claim to have found it on the battlefield with your fellows. The invaders won't know any better after all and it will let us know who is on our side."

Greg nodded slowly, it made sense, very clever thinking from a very clever man. So he held out his hand and the necklace was dropped into his palm, heavier than it looked and warm to touch it was almost comforting, and exhilarating.

"Welcome my friend, to the rebellion, welcome, to the Argus Wake."

 

[Zam]

World Building: Alliance Strategies & Current Territories​

So I mentioned this a couple of weeks ago but I have been wanting to do a post discussing the Alliances strategies, the good, the bad, the unavoidable and generally what went into them, along with show off the new territory map.

Hint, some territory moving around is showing future plot point ... Others are just retcons basically, have fun guessing which is which!

​

So, with that out of the way, let's discuss the overall strategy of the Alliance.

Leadership:
First and foremost, it needs to be known that while Saiden as the Grand Commander of the Silver Hand was the nominal head of all this, he did confer with agents of Dalaran, Kul'Tiras, Ironforge & Stromgarde, so it wasn't a solo effort. Especially as other commanders and generals also advices and made their own decisiosn.

What's more, his plan is meant to make sense, if not be flawless and it should be remembered the Drakkari could have been toppled and kicked out at almost any point had things played out a bit differently.

Goals & Motives:

First and foremost the motive was to not repeat the mistakes of previous battle which were largely perceived as going in ill prepared and with too fiew numbers to counter the Drakkari's unique elements, surprise, numbers & strength.

Thus build up and preparation was key.

Their main goal reclaim the royal family to avoid succession and legitimacy issues, (Plus general royalist sentiment) and to then drive the Drakkari out of the continent, or at east Lordaeron, as quickly as possible, to avoid a food and trade crisis due to this taking place during Winter.

This means they wanted to win the war as quickly as possible and built their strategy around that goal.

Strategy:
Strategically, this amounted to trying to amass forces in the East, and South, with the goal of the Eastern front punching their way into Tirisfal, either via the Bulwark, the mountain passed from Hearthglen or both.

This would be followed up prioritizing a siege on the capital utilizing Dalaran harassments, the Main bodies overwhelming numbers and for both of these to be a distraction for Dalaran elites to use the strained Drakkari defense to sneak in and steal away with the royal family's and anyone else they can.

Ideally, this would be followed by porting in elite reinforcements to sabotage the defenses and breach the city. Malakk's capture (Or more likely death) would be prioritized in order to force the Drakkari to surrender and leave Lordaeron, along with general civilian protection.

They would cap this off with a strategic campaign of inciting rebellion across Tirisfal and pushing the Drakkari out, and utilizing the Tirasi fleet to harass them back Northrend.

Any left over would be interned or possibly kept as prisoners for potential information and ransom, though if Arthas was put on the throne he'd be aiming for revenge quickly and need to be restrained by the Alliance council, though it would be on the docket for future plans.
If Calia was on the throne, then she'd likely find herself married off to someone of Lordaeron and influential fairly quickly, but be heavily guided by said man and her advisors, she'd be more passive though and less focused on revenge.
In either case Lianne would be banished to a monastery for nominal treason, even if several high ranking figures understand her motives, they feel the crown needs a clean break from her decisions.

So, what went wrong?
The most key mistake of this strategy is that it gave the Drakkari time to prepare, they didn't come to conquer at first and had to scramble to reorganize their plans and it barely held together.

Secondly, the kind of battles they were planning around, are exactly the kind of battles the Drakkari came prepared to fight, flash and thunder, blitzkrieg campaigns suit them fine, so the battles didn't really rattle the imperial machinery to so speak.

Finally, the strategy relied too much on the Drakkari being passive over active participants, any war strategy that relies on predicting the enemies plan is going to be inflexible, and with these kind of troop numbers that doubles, its why Saiden kept trying to make it work over pulling back and re-working.

The inevitable:
The problem is, with the circumstances against them, IE, Winter and the royal family being captured, other more long term strategies wouldn't have been easily considered, so a plan like this was almost always certain as were the challenges such as the Bulwark battle, IE, a choke point for both armies.

This is further undermined by the fact the Drakkari are trolls & as others have noted, the hard line "Kill-em all" attitude made sewing for peace not even on the table, & even if this went nowhere, it would have given the Drakkari diplomacy faction more weight to throw around and stalled the Empire.

So while the war was not lost from the start, the shape it took was almost inevitable, as was the Galen stalling the Stromgarde advance due to raising protests against the war. Along with sudden wave of orcish, Amani and other such attacks that further eroded the Alliance response.

The Good Decisions:
Overall this strategy is perfectly fine and was executed quite competently, they secured control of the Bulwark early in the campaign and were amassing their forces effectively, while awaiting the perfect moment to strike.

They were able to uncover Jandice's betrayal and with it her family's and the Syndicate spy network in Eastweld and the Western front were effectively gutted and they'd garnered enough understanding of the Nerubians to punch through for the rescue.

Had momentum stayed with them, they'd have almost certainly won the war, even if perhaps not as perfectly as in their ideal scenario; IE, Malakk could escape with the royal family, or it ends up more dragged out, Silverpine may never be reclaimed, ETC.

The Bad Decisions:
The biggest blunder on the Alliance side was the attack on the monastery led by Tyrian, his actions were rushed and he didn't have the means to counter Shamanistic magic and as a result he revealed mountain paths, and got the area fortified. If not for this, even if the Bulwark didn't break, Hearthglenn could have punched through to the monastery at least, and also would have been better geared for an assault, over only having a skeleton crew.

The decision to lay siege to the Barov's made some sense, but could have easily been lefty until later, they could do minimal harm from their position and it divided Saiden's forces, making the battle in the Bulwark take longer and caused a mass loss of morale and power with its wipe out. Maybe the Barov's would have escaped to imperial territory, or the peninsula would have otherwise became a bastion, but it would not have been an active participant in these battles if the Alliance hadn't made it one.

Dalaran definitely should have taken a more active role in the war, particularly investigating the West and sending forces out to counter the Syndicate raiders who are responsible for securing so much of Hillsbrad at this stage. However they kept their focus on the capital and mounting their forces and as a result territory they assumed they could just snatch back later was lost and it was easier for the Drakkari Legions to fall upon them by surprise.

Finally, while it made sense at the time, leaving his prophet behind to oversee the inquisition was a mistake. Her insights could have at least countered some of the Drakkari maneuver, the tidal wave for one, and either mitigated the damage or entirely avoided it. Realistically, Syndicate Spies and Orcish raiders, would not have won the war and or would have been routed eventually regardless.

Conclusion:
The Alliance's loss this season was not inevitable, but the circumstances against them from the timing, to resources, to treasonous elements and the strategies that did make sense, served to set the stage for a plan that was too heavy and too fragile to be effective when things started to veer off course.

I hope this has proven enlightening/interesting and assures I wasn't trying to NERF the Alliance.

 

[Zam]

The Torrents of War - Prologue

With the fall of Dalaran & retreatment of Alliance armies East & South, the New Dominions of the Drakkari Empire may yet see peace; but across the seas & within the shadows of Rohk'aka, there are battles still to be fought.

With the sun casting golden rays across the fields, & dew slowly evaporated, one could feel the onset of Spring coming in earnest.

Within the Capital of Lordaeron, one would find the palace to be as bustling as ever, but soon the center of activity will be the auditorium where the next stage of war will be set into motion.​

Beve Perenolde, strode down the grand and familiar halls of Lordaeron's palace with well-practiced ease. Her usual robes, substituted for a deceptively unrestrictive dress, and upon her brow rested the Crown of Will. Recently retrieve by her agents from her family's ruined home, the gleaming, almost hypnotic crown of polished gemstones was a fair replacement for the long-shattered crown of Alterac.

With Richelle never far and Singer dancing in the shadows, Beve's seeming solitude was but a pretense for her chosen target. Namely, the black and white furred Wolvar bedecked in silk pattern pants, embroidered vest, and open coat in dark blues & whites.

They expressed no surprised when Beve sidled up to them and instead greeted with a polite yip, "Hail, Monarch Beve, well today?"

Beve had been getting used to the Wolvar's penchant for dropping any and every word they could from a sentence and so smiled. "I am quite well, Chief Rageclaw, and yourself?"

Long dark claws clicked against the strong leather jacket, "Busy, well, curious!"

"I confess some intrigue as well, for these new arrivals from Silverpine, I hope they don't take my being awarded Fenris Isle poorly," She led to her point smoothly.

The Chief's tail flickered, "Well deserved, even more without North Valleys' gone."

Yes, the loss of the Northern hills and valleys of Alterac to local trolls, Gnolls and more was a disappointment, but they'd serve as a bulwark against the Barov's so she could live with it. Especially given the isle were her reward for such a trade.

She offered a polite bow, "You're too kind, though I'd be remiss not to mention his majesty had once hinted he intended those isles for your people."

The Wolvar waved her off lazily, "Idle thought, early days, a shame yes but just."

Beve smiled, "With that shame in mind, I thought to make an offer to you."

Adorable ears twitched, "Listening~"

"My agents have secured much of Hillsbad and Alterac shall once again be in my hands as well. But you see," She said theatrically, "That is almost the problem! I've not the citizenry to populate and police all these regions so soon. Thus, I thought an exchange perhaps?"

"Between us only," The Wolvar asked with an arched brow, showing no sign of suspicion and she could feel their own magic in the air helping obscure their words.

"A lease agreement, no territory changing hands without his majesty's approval of course, but all the properties built by your people would be your own. Free reign for your own trade while tariffs on others, and shared profits between us."

The Wolvar's chuckle was very akin to a Gnoll and nodded happily, "We will be good friends, I think."

---

Gal'Darah had been on his way to the recently remodeled auditorium when he was ambushed by Alexi. The nobleman seemingly eager to share his insights with someone regarding his daughter's slow recovery and seeing Gal'Darah as a sympathetic ear. Not that the Grand Prophet wasn't sympathetic, but the Barov's sudden fondness for him was still a strange fdevelopment.

"And that witch who did this to her, she's lucky it was Malakk who saw to her execution, I tell you that, Gal'Darah!" The man nearly snarled as he kept a clipped pace at Gal'Darah's side in the long, winding halls.

Hand on his heart, Gal'Darah intoned, "Your love for your daughters rings across the air in your fury, my noble friend. Would that I could offer some Salm that this trials never fell upon you; but at least you say her recovery is going well."

"As well as can be," The man sighed, "The prosthetic his majesty procured for her has done wonders, but learning to use it still proves tiring for her."

"She's a strong woman, noble lord, and though the curses of Dalaran are devilish, there may still be a solution on the rise," He glanced out the window to the countryside. "Especially when all is done and put in its proper place."

Alexi sighed, but nodded, a little more at ease, "You speak well, and that's all the more reason to end this war swiftly, I say."

"This one agrees, though it must be remembered the stability of the empire as a whole must come first or the war shall be lost, and with that in mind," Gal'Darah said before the man could muse on his meaning. "There is something you must know of today's meeting."

"Is it that we are to welcome some Forest Trolls into the court, because I have been told," The man answered snidely.

"No, but we shall once again be welcome the Queen Counselor into our midst, if in a reduced rank and role," Gal'Darah said lyrically.

Alexi blinked owlishly before scoffing, "And what did that woman do to earn herself the Frost King's favor again?"

Gal'Darah was quick to defend his lieges honor, "De'jana's favor actually."

"The Bureaucrat who replaced her?" Alexi's brow quirked curiously as he half heartedly added, "The half troll, yes?"

"The very same," Gal'Darah nodded, "She was the first to sense the Queen Counselors subtle sabotage, but also deems her too useful a presence to lock away indefinitely. She and her daughter will be restraining themselves this day and I must beg of you the same. With new allies, we must present a united front, no?"

Alexi let out a low breath and nodded, "If she keeps her tongue, I'll keep mine; just as well my lovely wife is not with us, those two never did get along."

"A tragedy for the ages I am sure," His joke earning Gal'Darah an uproarious laugh.

---

Lianne took a glance at De'Jana's back before they entered the auditorium. The half troll's hair was tied back in its usual sleek ponytail, and while she wore her usual tabard like vestments, beneath it lay a silk vest and atop that was a set of flared shoulder guards and cape, while a sash held up silver patterned pants.

'A stark departure from her old wear to be sure, and some of our influences within it as well,' she mused before taking in the auditorium.

The grand hall had undergone some remodeling to accommodate and signal Zul'Drak's influence, but less so than most places; is high ceiling and second floors made it an ideal place for Malakk's presentations, especially with the throne room still out of commission for some reason.

The air of the brightly lit chamber was filled with hushed, sibilant conversation, that echoed across the marble balconies and was swallowed by walls bedecked by fine furs and silks in elegant patterns.

"Its so crowded," Calia whispered, eyes wide at the sheer volume of trolls, and even humans, be they early collaborators or grudgingly surrendered souls their number was greater than when she first surrendered. Even more though were the numbers of unfamiliar faces and creatures. Be it a Nerubian, several Forest Trolls, Wolvar, some strange creatures of white feathers she did not recognize, let alone Gnolls, Kobolds and a group of burly looking bull creatures.

Archbishop Alonsus Faol was quick to join them, a sour looking High Priestess Whitemane at his side, as the man intoned. "From what the Grand Prophet told me on the evening, this shall be quite a ceremony."

De'jana glanced back and nodded, "Welcoming a New Dominion into the Empire is something to be done with all due ceremony and with the Royal Halls of Gundrak so far away, we must do so here. Most of these citizens and allies shall return home when this is done, and strategy sessions called."

Lianne returned her gaze to her subjects, or was that former subjects and was surprised to see several in Drakkari wear or crest, and even a few mingling. By no means was it the majority, but it was clear a shift was occurring in the background of wars fought and battles won.

'Have I been so isolated by overplaying my hand with the tax codes, or was this merely inevitable?' Lianne had no idea which answer was worse.

She found herself resting a hand on Calia's shoulder, encouraging the girl to stand tall as gazes drifted to them from across the hall. Some no doubt noticed the absence of her son, but she stared towards the stage, heart steady and mind still, in times like this, one could afford no weakness.

She saw De'jana's hand brush against Calia's before falling back, and the taller woman's attention never turned from the stage as the lights began to dim.

---

Arctikus stood within the gathering crowd, arms akimbo and exchanged hushed words with War Priest Hala'Zhi of the Amani as the Forest Troll finished their tale.

"We kept souvenirs of course, what survived at least, but some of it shall return to the Drakkari's hands I am thinking."

She nodded idly, "It is as you say, I must wonder how the Barovs will take to their new neighbors though, with so few humans 'staying'."

Hala'Zhi shrugged, "Not for us to know, but the emperor will be a most ardent ally of the new residents of Hearthglenn I am sure."

Arctikus clicked her tongue, well aware of the subtle layers of dance and dare behind the words and finally added, "They can count on the Frostmane as friends."

Hala'Zhi smiled, "Of that, those that stayed will be grateful; but enough of me, what of you, great slayer of the Kirin Tor, yes?"

She scoffed, "Hardly, the elf wounded me in the battle and used that chance to escape. We thought him dead for a time, but it was a body he warped with his magic. No telling where he went."

Hala'Zhi nodded, "Back to the North most likely, they are rattling like a rocked hive right now."

"Another foe to overcome… Look there, we have Zol'Maz incoming," she whispered, and the Amani ducked their head.

Any more talk of personal politics tabled as the face of the Diplomatic Delegation joined them, red hair bristling even as he grinned and said, "Great Mother, brave War Priest, an honor as always."

"An honor given and returned, Warlord," Arctikus drawled, as Hala'Zhi bowed and tittered "Enjoying the diverse company?"

Zol'Maz glanced at the gathering of Alterac Valley dwellers in their own comfortable alcove on the walls, among them a Gnoll, a Kobold, Frost Troll, and Harpy a piece, with a Wolvar between them.

"Indeed, I am, very sensible people I am thinking," the Warlord grinned.

'Magnificent, more cowards who do not wish to fight,' Arctikus silently lamented.

Perhaps sensing her ire, the Ice Troll continued, "Such a shame, they cannot be so honored on this day, along with our newest kinsmen of course."

That at least made Arctikus snort in amusement, "I hear they are still squabbling over who gets what territory."

Hala'Zhi nodded, "That would be their way, cautious and controlled to the last is how they survived the humans, elves and dwarves thus far."

Zol'Maz nodded, "As I said, sensible people," he saw her fangs flash threateningly and added, "Off beneficial circumstances too, one would note. Still, this one is sure it shall be sorted soon enough and with it the war comes a step closer to ending and our territories secured." He looked passed them, "Forgive this one, but there is an old friend, please give you and yours my best."

They both bowed and let the Warlord leave them as he went to confer with more of his allies when the lights began to dim.

---

At word of his newest kins arrival, Malakk made for the foyer of the palace, with a genuine lightness in his step.

With all the battles behind or ahead of them, he had wanted to take the time to make this an event. Not just to reaffirm the Empires solidarity, but to finally meet with allies so distant he'd only engaged with them through secondhand script.

They made for a regal pair to be sure, standing on the grand white steps of the palace. Their separation in height doing little to stop their arms from interlinking, much to the scandal of humans watching them pass.

The tallest was Lord Krag'jin, a dark green forest troll with even darker hair, save for the golden streaks flowing through the long mohawk; adorned in a studded Dark Slate Grey shirt and matching kilt. While at his side, was Seraphine of Winter, a lean woman with a wild mane of nearly black hair, sharp features, and robes in Forest Green. Each of them wore a long, robed cloak with wide sleeves and the Drakkari symbol adorned on its back.

Malakk threw his arms wide, "Welcome my new friends and kindred, to the Southern Capital of the Drakkari Empire!"

Both offered deep bows and Krag'jin spoke first, "It is an honor to be received to warmly, my liege, your reputation precedes you."

Seraphine smiled wanly, "Your personal attention in this matter is most welcome, mighty one of frost and gale."

Malakk grinned, "It is only fitting, your efforts have done much to benefit the empire and your people, and with such elegance. It is an honor to be welcoming such fine leaders into our Dominion, I trust your travel was safe and well?"

Krag'jin smirked, "Nothing and no one has given us trouble my liege, a few messenger birds here and there, but nothing that changes this day."

Seraphine's gaze was drifting across the palace, "I confess, I had often come to disdain cities, but in your hands, I feel this lifeless place can breath anew."

"And so it shall," Malakk said grandly, motioning for them to join him in his slow strides. "And it shall not just be the capital but all lands that are renewed. In that line of thinking, I am of the mind that Tol'Vass and the Silver Woods can be an exemplar to the rest of the Empire."

Both let out a low, oh sound he had learned indicated interest, Krag'jin adding, "Such attention would be most welcome your grace, so long the little folk of the land were ignored."

Malakk hissed slyly as they drifted down the grand halls, light spilling across their frames. "So, I have been told, and that trouble in the North when the war began, ghastly business; but since your shared rise to prominence the land has grown safe and stable. Now, with Ambermill finally surrendered, it is time for the people and lands to move forward with purpose and to show the rest of the empire what we can accomplish by collaborating closely."

The pair were grinning, "It would be our honor, your majesty, to serve the empire in this manner."

Malakk clapped his hands, "Magnificent. And, speaking of serving the empire, Seraphine, I am told more of your kindred have linked themselves to our cause?"

The woman nodded, "Yes your grace, Celestine of the Harvest led a final exodus of our kin behind the walls and they have joined hands with the Forest Lords in service of the Drakkari."

"It warms my heart, dear lady of the Harvest," Malakk intoned. "Know now that this land is under our rule, you and yours shall be free to practice, preach and teach your ways with the full backing of the Legions of Zul'Drak, as will the Priests of Tol'Vass of course,"

"We thank you, your grace. My brothers and sisters shall finally know peace from the purges of puritanical priests," Seraphine sighed, something weighty and heavy behind her tanned skin and subtle crows feat.

Krag'jin was nodding along, adding, "And with that protection comes the gift of the harvest, and the forces of Tol'Vass at your disposal your grace."

Malakk nodded resolutely as they approached the backstage doors, "Your loyalty shall be rewarded eternally, now, let us commence the ceremony."

---

With the dimming of the candles a hundred eyes turned upon the stage; upon which stood the Frost King and his newest councilors. The pairs voices rose high and echoed across the grand halls, as the treaty was placed upon a pedestal before his majesty.

"In the Silver Forests of the East, the lords of Gilneas and their kindred nation brought ruin to all, with flame and spear, by yoke and persecution without relief."

"The gods and ancestors wept as their children were consigned to hide in the mountains. The spirits of storm and stream, the very forests heart and her speakers made silent."

"Then unto us, the Drakkari came, with great ceremony and gallantry in need of aid and ready to return the favor. Through you we have our homes and freedom again, and so it is unto the Drakkari Empire we pledge ourselves."

"& so shall it be, that we take inspiration from his imperial majesty in our guidance of the people and Dominions. In our capital of Tol'Vass, the Forest Lord shall take council with his chiefs and the High Coven, who shall guide the villages and cities of humanity, all in the name of the empire and the Frost King."

Together, they signed the parchment, with great flourishes they turned to the crowd and cheered.

"With this, we commit ourselves to this great and glorious empire!"

"Long live the Drakkari!"​

---

So the idea of the Wolvar not getting Fenris Isle feels like an impossibility to me, but I also don't see Malakk just confiscating a third of Beve's territory for people who helped in one, admittedly major, ambush. Not without offering her something in return and this new deal felt like a natural development that would let me have my cake and eat it too, as well as show some of the dealing that goes on even when Malakk's not around.

I know I may spend too much time focusing on too many characters, but I did want to show how all the plot and character threads left dangling at the end of the last arc were going, especially as some of these characters will now be in a reduced roll. Also again, just wanting to show some of the integration going on and to hint at some less than appropriate behavior and those who want more and less war.

Finally get to show off the Silverpine pair again, more characters I know, but I have wanted to write them again for ages and explore more of the relationship I set up there. Plus it let me show how their political situation has developed, be it the trolls, the Harvest Witches or the civilians and in he middle one's case what their relationship with the old powers that be were. Plus signaling Malak's plans for stuff like, infrastructure and the like... I find it interesting! Also some political theater, Malakk has reason to be linking these two in so publicly and so loudly.

 

[Zam]

The Torrents of War: Part 1 - Deadly Deliberations​

The royal map room was near crowded with the War council gathered.

Malakk rested upon his mobile throne and watched the last of his followers, Alexi, take his seat.

As quiet fell upon the meeting hall, Malakk motioned for all eyes to turn to him and when they had he rose to his feet and proclaimed. "Friends, comrades, counselors, I thank you all for coming. We come here today, to discuss the state of the empire and make plans to further secure these new Dominions." At the quiet applause and hums of acknowledgment, Malakk returned to his throne, adopting a more comfortable, relaxed air.

"Now that matters here have begun to stabilize, the Goblin Cartels have expressed their desire to once again do business." There were a few rumbles and quiet cheers at that.

"As the Cartels engage in the wicked and weak willed practice of slavery, I was of a mind to turn them away; however," he stressed. "Under the advice of councilors and war time advisors I opened the matter to a silent vote before yesterdays ceremony and with a slim majority, it has been decided that we shall allow for trade."

Hala'Zhi motioned to speak and Malakk waved them on, "I would be cautious, even their immorality aside, the goblins are unreliable partners."

Malakk nodded, "In this I agree, however, the goblins making themselves our enemy may prove disastrous at this time. But, this trade shall be accompanied with one imperial mandate and a guiding principle from the throne itself."

Motioning to his advisors, Malakk continued, "First and foremost the purchase and selling of sapient souls is illegal under any circumstances and will be punished harshly... & secondly," He added, easing his tone, "It is encouraged that any engaging in government business, make purchases from the Mangled Manacle Merchants, a cross Cartel accord of sellers, traders and experts who lobby against the slave trade. Those who do shall be granted some remissions for their purchases from the throne."

Seeing the more traditionalist members of his council easing back at that, Malakk smiled and pressed on. "With that done, I wish to report some even finer news, or more, to open the flaw to one who bears it."

Chief Rageclaw rose from their whicker, cushion seat and tapped their claws together, almost rhythmically.

"Our efforts to align with many natives met with much, much success!" The Wolvar's second held up several signed scrolls and glittering tokens, to which they motioned to proudly. "Every Kobold Commune embraced the protection offered by Zul'Drak, swearing themselves to Frost King Malakk and promising labor tax in the form of minerals and stonework'. Among the many small communes are the Dryax and the mighty Whitewhisker!"

Malakk motioned to Beve, "As the Monarch of the mountains, I must once again thank you for generously in donating this land to the empires new friends."

Beve chuckled, "Hardly a labor my liege, unknown neighbors they may have been I'd not think to proclaim myself their Queen and I look forward to what we can accomplish side by side."

All eyes turned back to the Chief, whose tail swished happily, "Kobolds languished for long, long years, so most welcome, and their tongue familiar from the Snobolds we trade with. much shall come from them in the future!"

Alexi did not look enthused but joined the applause that washed over the room.

Running a paw through their sleek fur, Rageclaw rumbled, "Local Gnolls prove difficult; but some have listened, or learned to listen. Among those we spoke with, the Redpine_tribe are very, very open and eager."

Alexi scoffed, "Those raiders have done much harm to my lands."

"Humans hunted them for sport," Rageclaw countered.

Malakk motioned for quiet, "We can debate the specifics in the future, for now they aided us in Hearthglenn with distinction and it is one less battle to fight."

Arctikus leaned back in her chair and motioned to the map laid out before them as new Drakkari tokens slid into place, "And potentially new fighters to join the field."

"Oh, they like fighting very much, but more I think are curious about magic and some are dabbed paws!" Rageclaw motioned to Beve and added, "We must thank you for telling us to seek out Ro'Bark, with them we are able to speak and strike a deal, the Mudsnout tribe. They seek farmland but promise loyalty."

Beve saw Alexis's scandalized stare and shrugged, "We Syndicate had to make strange bedfellows, I would have thought you would be familiar, lord Alexi."

The man huffed and returned his attention to the meeting, while Arctikus and Beve exchanged smirks.

Rageclaw's tone grew less enthused, their tail swaying slowed, "The Mountain Valley coalition add much, but orcs hovering in the mountains still cause tension."

"The latter should be dealt with soon," Malakk said airily.

Gal'Darah exchanged a glance with Arctikus and leaned forward, chin on his hands. "The valley dwellers, Winter Axe in particular, stayed so quiet for much of this war. I would suggest caution when dealing with them."

Zol'Maz huffed, "They did not wish to risk their people in a war not their own and yet still came to the aid of our noble allies, the Barovs."

Arctikus's arms crossed, "We never got much help from them, but they aren't stupid either, they can be trusted some ways I am thinking, but should be kept at a distance still. For a time."

"I think them cautious and cold, not calculating and cruel," Rageclaw yipped, shuffling through scrolls, and waving to the map.

"Whatever their motives," Malakk intoned gently, "they have consented to join our empire with more time and deliberation. I am of a mind to let them muse as long as they need. But as to our other efforts..." His head lolled to the side, "This one takes it Ogres are still proving a trial?"

Rageclaw bobbed their head, "Little luck with the Ogres in large number, a few lone wanderers welcome the new dominion for food but without aid of Hala'zhi would have had no luck at all…" They shrugged, "Have cause for hope though from rumors carried to us by Beve Perenolde."

Maakk motioned for the Wolvar to take a seat and said, "This would be a fine time for your report, Beve."

Rising from her chair with a flourish, Beve tapped her stave and proudly announced, "With daring, cunning and quick wit, I was able to lure Blackmoore into a battle with Trollbane and Ironforge's forces. As the battle drew on, my Syndicate Skirmishers and raiders hit the invaders from behind and forced them into retreat."

As most of the room clapped, she waved her stave and tokens began sliding across the map.

"Since then, we have secured Thoradin's Wall and I have had scouts and agents reporting from across Arathi." She chuckled, "They have become so talkative now that they see which way the wind is blowing." She motioned to a South East quadrant of the map and murmured, "Some reports speak of people already trying to flee to Ironforge and being attacked by Forest Troll and Ogre raiders working in tandem."

Gal'Darah tapped his feet, "Could the Amani Warlord be seeking to expand his lands so far?"

"I should hope not," Alexi muttered, "He lacks the Frost King's refinement and would see the lands burn rather than ruled."

Hala'Zhi snorted, "It was not our people who burnt the lands to cinders.

Beve coughed into her hand and attention drew back to her. "For now it seems these are attacks of opportunity, there is little way to know if they are ordered by a distant emperor or part of a grand strategy, but the fact such an accord can be struck shows there is potential and furthermore…" she nearly sang. "It reinforces a broader point that has been evident for some time, Stromgarde, is falling."

Alexi chuckled, "That is hardly news."

It was Liane who spoke next, her tone gentle, "Such a loss of our history would diminish us all, Lord Barov."

Before the man could retort, Malakk motioned to Beve, "If Stromgarde is an ailing state we may be able to ignore them for now."

"I would caution against that my liege," Beve said with a grin. "For I have agents inside the capital promising chaos when Thoras returns, leaving them vulnerable."

"That would let us cut off Ironforge, I shall think on it, thank you Beve," he said, tapping a tusk thoughtfully as Beve took her seat.

He motioned to Alexi who rose to his feet, "As you well now my family has suffered much for this war," He studiously ignored Callia's brief flash of hatred and anger. "And yet we have seen our loyalty rewarded by the brave rescues of our daughter by Frost King Malakk. For which I wish to express my deepest gratitude, and sympathy for the loss of so many of your forces."

"Your sentiment is heard," Malakk said gently, "And greatly appreciated, Noble Alexi. Jandice and your family shall be well compensated for the pain and your loyalty in this war."

Alexi preened, "We thank you, Frost King Malakk, and are also proud to report that with the fall of Hearthglenn and the surrender of Andorhol, all local resistance has ended. The church of Northridge signed their declaration of surrender just days ago. For the time we leave them to manage the bureaucracy, but your own Gundraki Elites oversee the land itself." He clapped his hands, "With that falls the last bastion of resistance West of the river."

Malakk clapped, "That is heartening to hear, you clearly have your new lands and staff well in order," he congratulated. "I will need to speak with the Arch-Bishop about re-organizing the churches across the lands as well so that they can continue to serve their roles without becoming bastions of rebellion or robbing my new subjects of much needed assistance."

"Wise words, Frost King Malakk," Lianne said, "The Church oversees many settlements uncared for by the nobility." Alexi scoffed at that, muttering 'favoritism' under his breath as Lianne continued and Callia passed him a sample of records tied to the East. "They provide education, housing and even food, sustaining their own and supporting outside communities. They cannot go ignored without much loss to the Dominion."

Malakk looked over the notes, glancing at De'Jana who nodded and he sent the trio a flicker of a smile before turning to Alexi. "Thank you, Noble Alexi, I hope you or Lady Illucia shall be willing to join myself and the Arch-Bishop for a luncheon to discuss the management of your lands?"

"Of course, Frost King Malakk," He answered gamely.

"With Eastweld in mind," Malakk pressed on, "Hala'Zhi, our thanks for driving out the forces station in Hearthglenn," The Forest Troll offered a polite bow, before Malakk continued. "And Zol'Maz, congratulations are in order for holding out and driving back the main army, despite their secret weapon."

Zol'Maz bowed at the applause. "It was no easy feat, but our resolve was strong and with due credit to our allies, as well as the Prophets, Loa and gods we won the day. However," The bulky troll furrowed his brow. "We did not capture the weapon, and now they line the river-side with cannons and ballista to bar our path."

Quetz'Lith rose and saluted, "My scouts report that they are reinforcing townships as well, but that the main body of their forces duel with the Amani for control of the coast."

Arctikus scoffed, "We can break through such lines."

"I concur," Alexi chimed in.

Beve was watching Malakk, carefully.

He saw Gal'Darah seemed ready to speak and stilled the Grand Prophet with a glance before intoning, "I believe, that we should leave Eastweld and the Amani to their business."

Zol'Maz's relief was nearly palpable, while Arctikus, Hala'Zhi and Alexi scowled.

Looking to him, Alexi asked, "Would you say that is wise, Frost King Malakk?"

Hala'Zhi of all people concured, adding, "We have offered much assistance to the Drakkari in this war, have we not?"

"You have, and my gratitude is large, yet your emperor has not asked for my assistance as of yet and I'd not wish to come into contentions with him over territory he claims in his people's name. As to wisdom," His head lolled to the side gently, " I see no reason not to let our shared foe be exhausted while we focus on other, matters."

"That does still leave an enemy nearby?" Quetz'Lith said.

"If we take Eastweld we have enemies nearby again, just elves." Rageclaw cut in, waving at the map. "We take them then it is Elves and Dwarves. Take more land and it is more Dwarves and humans again. Even if we hold all the land the seas have Naga most of who are unkind. With this, enemy busy," they chuckled.

"Agreed," Gal'Darah added, "While one could, with just cause, argue the remains of Eastweld will be weaker attacked from two sides at once. We would push closer to Quel'Thalas which has shown no inclination to attack, let alone weakness and thus may incur a new battlefront."

"We do have their prince," Alexi cut in.

"A fair observation, but the systems of Quel'Thalas seem to place more value on their council than their monarch, and their land ahead of that. Thus, I see no reason to think the Elves will restrain themselves if we encroach upon their border." He held his hand aloft, "For now, I have no execution to avenge with those of Eastweld and the Elves remain a… Complicated and dangerous matter, one that must be treated cautiously. So for now, we shall merely work to surround Eastweld and ensure they pose no threat to us."

A flurry of murmured or grudging agreement rolled across the chamber.

Arctikus raised her hand, and with a nod of permission from him, spoke her mind, "This does beg the question of our next stage? Shall we secure Hillsbrad's coast and use it as a launching point against Kul'Tiras? Or move on Arathi that we might finally strike at Ironforge?"

Malakk's chest tightened as he leaned into his throne, "For now, I believe our focus should not be on expansion."

That caught everyone's attention, and Malakk braced as-

"But My king, we are winning!?" Alexi crowed.

"We are, but if we wish to keep winning, we cannot over-extend our lines," Malakk counselled.

Arctikus rose from her seat fangs grinding, "We have not even struck at Ironforge, every moment they have to gather strength poses a danger to us."

"And rushing to meet them in such a secured location after so many battles is folly," Gal'Darah offered.

Looking like she'd been struck with a dagger in the back, Arctikus thumped a fist against her chest, "My people know the lay of the land, we can guide an army."

Alexi coughed into his hand, "While not as passionate as the lady Arctikus I must concur. We have the momentum, we should use it, not let a force like the Arathi or Bronzebeard get dug in. They will prove more a hindrance to drag out from their forts than if we fought them openly now."

Rageclaw kicked their paws, "People are tense in castle, can only guess in city. Dalaran has many artifacts thefts, spikes of insurrection, needs to be remade; the New Dominions managed. Much, much to so, can afford going so far so fast?"

"Can we afford not to when it gives them time to rally?" Quetz'Lith asked, sounding more intrigued than truly on anyone's side.

"What care do we have for Dalaran?" Alexi spat, "The city should be grateful it still stands after what they did to my girl."

"Ironforge even more-so," Arctikues hissed, "They butchered my ancestors, slaughtered my son, drove us from our home and you wish to stop the advance?" She asked, eyes locking onto his, her hands shaking.

"Your pain is known and heard, Great Mother, but we will not honor the fallen by racing to join them," Gal'Darah said.

Malakk tapped his throne, "Our soldiers are weary, winter is ending, Dalaran was a disastrous victory and morale is low. More war fighting will only exacerbate the matter."

"But we are winning," Alexi insisted.

"And we will lose everything if we overextend ourselves?" Beve cut in, Zol'Maz nodding alongside her.

"Indeed," The Warlord said, "A stable empire is better than a large one on the brink of collapse."

"So that is it then? We leave Ironforge be? We leave my kins bodies to rot beneath the snow?"

"We will do no such thing," Malakk growled, "The dead will have their justice, but not yet. Ironforge will not stay quiet I am sure, and they will never sew for peace or acknowledge their guilt. War shall come."

He steeled his shoulders, "We will not be advancing on the Bronzebeard this year. We stop this at Arathi and gather our strength over the next winter. I will broke no arguments on this."

Alexi grumbled but returned to his seat, Arctikus squeezed her eyes shut but swallowed back her anger and sat.

"With that decided," Malakk said, "I believe a short recess may be in order…." He stilled at the sound of knocking on the chamber doors.

"Enter!"

The doors swung open and a messenger in leopard skin leathers strode in, dropping to her knee before him. "Frost King Malakk, honored councilors, I bring word from Navarch Hooktusk."

She held aloft the scroll lined with golden waves and a sigil he did not recognize, but Lianne murmured, "Ashvane?"

The messenger nodded, "A Great Family of Kul'Tiras sent to unto the fleet a delegate, one Flynn_Fairwind who the Navarch claims to be reliable."

Malakk motioned for her to come forward and he took the letter, "Thank you, please, indulge in my hospitality and rest awhile."

His gaze flickered across the chamber as the Holy Warrior marched out; all were watching carefully as he broke the wax seal and began to read.

Hail to thee oh conqueror king,

Lady Priscilla_Ashvane bids you greetings.

I send you this message with a heart torn apart by rage, something I know a warrior so ferocious will understand. I am enraged for the death of my husband, Lord James_Ashvane!

Struck down by the maddened blade of Proudmoore and his vile wife, they seek nothing but your people's blood while we proposed diplomacy and I still hold to this. I have heard of the grand rewards you heap upon the loyal and the fury you lay upon your foes and find myself in awe.

If it pleases you, conqueror of kings, I would swear my house to you and rule all of Kul'Tiras in your name. I have a fleet of rabid pirates and mercenaries aplenty, as well as agents within the fleet itself who can help subdue the city and sabotage the navy. Providing your forces provide a clear path into the docks. For while our strength is great, we cannot take Kul'Tiras without you, but we can ensure it is swift and simple for all concerned.

If this pleases you, please contact me again shortly, for I do not know how long we shall be able to distract the Proudmoores with politics and minor sabotage.

Signed, Lady Priscilla Ashvane

Malakk let out a low breath as he lowered the obtuse little missive and looked over the crowd.

Beve was grinning, "They do say to strike while the iron is hot."

Arctikus groused, "Did we not finished establishing we cannot continue this war?"

"Circumstances change, Great Mother," Gal'Darah intoned.

Alexi nodded, "Indeed, if Kul'Tiras falls the only rival naval power left would be Stormwind, the Gnomes do not produce large enough number of vessels to be a true threat."

"There is also the Zandalari," Quetz'Lith noted.

"The who?" Alexi asked, squinting.

"Irrelevant busybodies whose glory days long since passed," Malakk waved them off. "Tell me, how likely is this to be true?" He looked over his collaborators and then glanced to Lianne and Callia, the latter of whom look briefly stricken before balling her fists and steeling herself.

Lianne was first to speak, "Kul'tiras lacks a single king as other nations do, thus while the Proudmoore's control the fleet there is a constant jockeying for position and few grappled for power more than the Ashvane."

Alexi scoffed, "Nouveau riche merchants who bought their titles, they've ambition if little else."

"One pays for titles in trade or in blood," Rageclaw chuckled.

"Debate the matter later," Malakk grunted.

Beve raised a hand, "It has been some time since I have met with any from Kul'Tiras. But rumors abound in the shadowed world of daggers and poison's as to the Tirasi's criminal element; it is highly organized, and many great families have strong ties to the heads of gang and assassin orders. If promised titles and more power, I could well believe they would aid in a coup."

"Much like here," Lianne gently chided, which only made Beve lean into her seat more smugly.

Callia's gentle voice drew his attention, and Malakk could sense Lianne's worry. "While the nobles often jockeyed for position there was often a stronger undercurrent of comradery rooted in shared faith among the people."

Lianne nodded, "My daughter has a point, the Tirasi are the only nation to have not embraced the Light in whole, it could make them rather insular."

"The Proudmoore girl may say otherwise," Beve purred.

"I am well read on that topic," Malakk cut in. Resting his chin on his hand he murmured, "She made no mention of other Great Houses, and a duel… Are duels common?"

A shuffling sort of silence filled the chamber, before Alexi shrugged, "They are not unknown, especially in a land as rough as Kul'Tiras, but normally the threat of such a thing and rank kept people in line… I cannot say if it's the truth."

Malakk sighed, "Hooktusk is not a fool, but this would be a grave risk…"

Lianne was frowning, but De'Jana rested a hand on her shoulder and the woman spoke, "Lord Daelin has been… Troubled, ever since the Second War, and given the Ashvane's preferences for mercantile dealings... I could see a conflict arising. Whether it would go so far as a duel to the death I cannot say, but it is not unheard of in the Tirasi Navy for it to be accepted when crewmen take matters into their own hands."

Callia nodded, "A ship with a fool for a captain has no crew as they say."

Malakk nodded, "I see, that does help some, thank you all…" His fingers began to tap along the stone as he rallied his thoughts and rose to his feet.

"I've no intention to trust this Ashvane carelessly… Be that as it may, if an enemy seeks to offer themselves to us with open arms, I see no cause not to act." He glanced at Arctikus and added, "By securing Kul'Tiras we shall deny Ironforge a powerful ally, allowing us to better isolate them for the wars to come."

Her response was a sharp nod but little else and he clicked his tongue in thought. "I am thinking we shall not be sending one but two missives, for meeting."

Quetz'Lith arched her brow, a moment and chuckled, "I see your scheme."

"No scheme, just a little test, nothing more," He chuckled. "Let us see if this woman is honest first, before we commit to anything." He motioned to the map and tokens began to shift and side as a smirk spread across his face as Boralus was surrounded.

'Not taking any more chances. No more surprises.'

---

"Chieftain, Chieftain Xex'Mon we must speak with you!"

"I'm here, I'm here," he called, stepped from his tent, and resisting the urge to stretch as Burx and Nazgrel raced towards him.

Fists slamming against their chests, they knelt.

"Please, rise, what news do you have?" Their jaws were locked, eyes wild and wary, bodies rippling with tension but not anger or fear. What had they found in these mountains?

The pair rose to their feet and the Burx muttered, "We know where the odd tracks are coming from now, and why so few Orcs are turning up in our searches."

Nazgrel nodded, his fangs grinding, and face set in a fierce scowl he motioned to a distant stone jutting out like a needle from the snow-covered lands, a dancing, flickering flash of purple just in sight.

Xex'Mon brought up his spy glass and saw a pair of aging but fierce looking orcs, one short and broad, bedecked in black armor while the other wore no shirt and loose leather, lean but towering over his companion. They sat beneath a vibrant purple flag and a faded black and red one.

"It is our kin," Burx mumbled, "They claim to be the True Horde."

"They demand we join them," Nazgrel spat.

"Or what?" Xex'mon intoned.

"Or die."

---

NOTES:

So this is sort of another updatey, update chapter, sorry things will speed up after this, but there was a lot to get out of the way and set up. Also I wanted to touch on the shifting dynamics in the War Room, IE Gal'Darah normally being a steadfast ally of Arctikus, shifting and now on the side of Zol'Maz cos both want to stop/stall the war for a time, though be it for different reasons.

Dramatic ending is dramatic, but yeah all that long ting gone set up for the Horde's activities is finally coming to ahead. Suffice to say, I am drawing their characterization from a manifold of places, but they will get to show their perspective next chapter I think?

 

[Zam]

The Torrents of War: Part 2 - Backstabbers & Throat Slitters ​

Xex'Mon stared out at the snow-capped mountain peaks surroundings his forces and across the vast expanse of flat white valley where Orcs of the "Horde" gathered. Their numbers bleeding out of crevasse, tunnels and pathways, flooding the peaks with tents and blooming fire light.

"They must have Shamans helping them, or demon dabblers," an advisor, Kal'tin, whispered.

"Maybe, though I imagine they know the land well," He mused, toying with his tusk tip, "Some have hidden here a long time, I am thinking." Curse it all, they had wandered in thinking the mountains empty, but such a thought was absurd! Even the Storm Peaks held varied and vibrant life, to think Alterac would somehow be left abandoned…'They cannot have been here all the while though; it is a rallying point or else the Rageclaw and our native allies would have told us.'

He shook his head, mind turning over what he knew again and again, 'I heard tell from the Winter Axe a clan had settled here and that they wanted the Orcs gone. So has something happened, or did the Orcs take a different path here? Could this even be their full force? It cannot be, but if not, then where are the rest?' Xex'Mon scanned the fields of snow, his ears twitched as the Horde sung war ballads and chanted. His own forces were arrayed behind him, some few had raced to rejoin their kin, but the rest held their lines or stayed close to the camps.

"Some of the Peons and…" Nazgrel struggled to find the word, "Caretaker types are cowering in fear or want to leave this place."

Xex'Mon nodded, "No surprise given what some of them told us of their time in the Old Horde," The scars alone told stories of the warriors and warlocks brutality. "Kal'Tin, have some of our Drakkari Legionaries escort them to some safe caves or take up guard around their camps. No one will force them out so long as I draw breath enough to command."

"As you say, Chieftain," The War Priest answered, striding away from the front of their forces, while Xex'Mon and his orcish lieutenants maintained their vigil.

"Have either of you heard of this lot? I see three flags but recognize only one," Xex'Mon murmured.

Burx was first to speak, "Older warriors have told me of those sigils, one is of the Warsong who are undefeated raiders and never captured."

"Nor did they seek to free us," Nazgrel spat before waving his hand. "The other is apparently of the Frostwolves, I heard the older soldiers speaking of it. They were thought banished and dead, it seems they have just been hiding though."

"And we gave them the chance to step into the light," Xex'Mon scoffed, "Some show of gratitude."

Burx looked to him warily, "They may not have helped us, but they have clearly saved other Orcs and we are still one people… Do you mean for us to fight them?" The warrior looked near physically sick at the prospect.

Xex'Mon leaned down and clapped him on the shoulder. "Worry not Burx, the Frost King is no tyrant and while you did swear allegiance to us, I've no mind to let this turn to bloodshed just to force your or anyone's hand."

"One should tell them that," Nazgrel said, glaring at the glinting axes and waving spears.

"You think they will attack us, their kin? The Drakkari who helped us?" Burx asked, some blend of shock and offence melded in his tone.

"Should it surprise you, Burx? They said they would, and if Dalaran showed you anything it-"

"Enough," Xex'Mon groaned, "Let us go over and be neighborly, ey?"

"Is that safe, Chieftain?" Nazgrel asked.

Xex'Mon forced a dry laugh, "If they are honorable sorts, we shall be fine." If they were not, then everyone would see them be the first to strike, either sparking a fight before the Old Horde was ready or at least putting his own forces off the new arrivals.

Or so he hoped.

---

Nazgrel was relieved when their trek across the expanse of snow between the gathering armies was cut short by their counterparts marching out to meet them. They were barely ten feet apart, letting Nazgrel once again take in the self-proclaimed leaders of the Orcish Horde.

They looked well fed, proud and pleased with themselves.

'Doomhammer who escaped, Hellscream who hid,' those words, those deeds rolled over in his mind as the pair came to a stop before them along with some cloaked old Orc with no eyes.

Xex'Mon offered a curt bow and made to speak, only to be cut off.

"So, you finally approach? Its been hours," Grom chided.

Nazgrel and Burx grunted as one, but Xex'Mon looked merely amused, "I wanted to give you time to get your camp in order. But as my Legionaries and I are on a schedule, even manners can only hold for so long."

Orgrim huffed, his gaze not meeting the chieftains and instead drifting across himself and Burx, "Did you come about our message? For there is little else yet for us to discuss with pretty words if not."

Xex'Mon chuckled, "Yes, my apologies, your message was rather… scant on details. Please forgive my ignorance of your culture, I felt there may have been some subtleties I was missing."

"You think to mock us or merely waste our time?" Grom spat.

"Neither," The Chieftain answered, clicking his tongue.

Grom waved his axe at them, "Then why patronize us by bringing these pups, did you have no veterans to serve as your seconds?"

Xex'Mon smiled fondly, "Commanders Burx and Nazgrel have shown ferocity, grit and discipline on the field of battle. It is for those reasons I appointed them as my lieutenants. I would trust them with my life."

Orgrim looked displeased, still not looking at or even addressing the Chieftain. "You two are young and bold, but far from ready to command your honored elders."

Burx was bristling, "We have done well for ourselves on the field of battle, Lordaeron, Dalaran, camp after camp, all fallen to us."

Grom scoffed, "Felled by the hands of the masters you cling to perhaps, true Orcs are independent!"

"Is that what you said when your Warlocks conjured demons? What of the Ogres, Troll and Goblins in your armies?" Nazgrel spat.

"Listen here, pup, we led them, we were not led," Grom snarled, crimson light burning bright.

"The light in yours eyes says…" he grew quiet as Xex'Mon motioned for quiet.

"We can trade barbs all day if we wish and gain nothing for it. Tell me, what is it you genuinely want?" asked the chieftain.

Orgrim's gaze remained locked on Nazgrel as he spoke, "We want only all among you to return to your people."

Grom's rough tones drifted on the winds, "Return to where you belong and together we can rebuild and reclaim what is rightfully ours."

Nazgrel ignored his words, looking to his chieftain who mournfully spoke, "So you've no intention of negotiating with the Drakkari Empire then?"

"Negotiate what?" Grom bristled. "They are our people, you've no right to rule them."

"Return our fellow orcs and we shall be open to diplomacy with your king, but," Orgrim stressed, "These mountains, the Uplands, the Lowlands of Hillsbrad and Arathi. They are all ours."

"By what right?" Burx asked, thumping a foot against the snow.

Grom lazily waved his axe, "Do you even need to ask pup?"

Xex'mon toyed with his tusk and sighed, "Much of that land has already been secured by the Empire and it seems you've no desire for discourse on this or any other matter. Such a shame."

Orgrim finally looked at him, "Do you intend to order them to fight us?"

Xex'Mon blanched, "Order my Legionaries to attack their kin? Never. But nor shall I order them to join you if they do not wish it and I most certainly will not forbid them from defending themselves or others if you attack." His tone grew jocular, even biting in subtle mockery, "But that would be a mad and foolish decision, we are dug in and have more time to prepare than you, as well as reinforcements waiting in the wings. Why, even if you attacked now and won your armies would be broken and exhausted, so much so you would be unable to hold these mountains."

All the while the amused smile did not fall from Xex'Mon's face as he bowed grandly and finished with, "So, I suppose we are at an impasse, lest you wish to talk."

Grom's axe thrust towards the troll's head.

Nazgrel found himself crashing against Burx to stand in the way of the blade, hand grasping for weapons their chieftain had ordered left behind.

The axe stopped short and Grom merely muttered, "You carry yourselves like servile curs."

Ogrims hand clapped on the taller Orcs shoulder, "They will come to us, in time, and these mountains will be ours in short order. All you do by refusing to return them to us is ensure we are your enemy in the future."

"I believe I will let my people," Xex'Mon stressed, "as fellow members of the Drakkari Empire, choose their own fate."

"You attacked us under a banner of diplomacy!" Burx snapped.

"He attacked a troll, not you," Orgrim said, looking to Xex'mon, "It is a shame you would not acknowledge my ranks as Warchief of the Orcs. Even more that you would deny my people the right to join us again, but it will not last I assure you." With that he began to march away.

A shut tore from Burx's throat, "On my honor, I shall never betray the Drakkari Empire!"

Grom turned and growled over his shoulder, "Trained and whipped dogs, nothing more, unworthy to be called orcs."

"The humans whipped us, you left us, only the Drakkari freed us," Nazgrel said.

Both Orcs froze, shoulders stiff, muscles throbbing as Grom whirled around. "What did you say!?"

Nazgrel stepped forward, "I said Orgrim ran away and left us to languish in the camps while you cowered in the backwoods! Only the Drakkari helped us, and now you want to claim their good work as your own. Pathetic," he spat.

Grom howled and lurched forward, Nazgrel felt himself gag as he was yanked back by Xex'Mon and Orgrim grappled to restrain his partner who gnashed his fangs and seethed, "You know nothing brat! Nothing of what it means to be an Orc!"

"I know enough!" Nazgrel howled, "I challenge Orgrim Doomhammer to a Mak'gora for the title of Warchief!"

The winds grew silent, both camps stilled and everyone stared at Nazgrel.

---

Orgrim hadn't even rejoined the camp before the grizzled voice of Drek'Thar was in his ear.

"Was such malignance necessary, Warchief?" The aged Shaman still carried himself with ferocity, bedecked in layers of fur and marching out to meet him with an axe-cane in hand.

Orgrim huffed, "Listening to others conversations is hardly well mannered, Honored Shaman."

The stooped Drek'Thar, shrugged, "And yet, the Spirits carried unto me your words."

It was Grom who spoke up next, cracking his neck, "I did come off more fierce than intended..." He scowled, "I think whatever those Blackrock traitors left behind is affecting the mood of the camp."

"Maybe," Orgrim conceded, "But I've no such excuse and yet, I maintain it was the right decision." He cast a glance over his shoulder and grinned. "They're brave young Orcs, but not yet aware of how dangerous the world is, no yet true warriors. By defeating this Nazgrel, I secure our people's support and with it the mountains."

"Then," Grom rumbled, "We can deal with these Drakkari on even terms."

"Exactly," Orgrim grinned at the taller warrior.

Drek'Thar thumped his cane against the ground, "They seem open to that already."

The Warchief just shook his head, "Yes, they seem an honorable sort, but you heard as well as I do from our agents their plans and methods. They would seek to change us, to rule us, and no matter how gentle a master, I refuse to let our people's fate be decided by another."

Grim nodded, "If we joined them or even let them dictate terms, our voices would be smothered by their kings crowded court. We have all sacrificed and lost too much to let ourselves be anything but free."

Drek'Thar sighed but nodded, "So by forcing their hand we secure our people and our destiny... Still, I am wary. They are no weaklings and all I have heard from the Valley tells me they have plans for these lands."

"Let them plan," Orgrim intoned, "Their army is growing ever more exhausted and these mountains are a fortress. If they try to make a fight of our claims here and in the fields below, they will only weaken themselves for the Alliance."

He clapped Drak'Thar on the shoulder, "This victory shall give us all the leverage we need Elder. Freedom, lands to call our own and a future brighter than any summer day."

At the Elder Shamans wane smile, Orgrim smiled and welcomed Grom's encouraging slap across the back, "All you have to do now is win the duel."

"Trust me old friend, that will be the simplest part of all this."

---

The time of battle fast approached, some had argued to wait so that everyone's forces could be gathered; others argued against the legitimacy of the duel. All while the Shamans, led by Drek'Thar insisted every right and prayer to the spirits and ancestors must be made that they would look fondly upon an honorable duel.

But the hours passed by quickly, the longer the challenge was left unanswered the weaker Doomhammer would look, and so while Nazgrel did not welcome the duels coming he did not fear it either.

His mind was calm, even surrounded in a vast field of flattened snow by his kin and by the enemy Horde, with ancestors he did not know the names of and spirits he could not hear apparently judging his every act.

'Mother, are you here?'

He heard no answer in prayer and looked to his chieftain who, for any worries he may have had, stood firm, gaze like steel and an unwavering resolve in his voice as he led their Legionaries in a chant, "Nazgrel! Nazgrel! Nazgrel!"

Drinking in the frozen air, Nazgrel's heart grew faint and distant, the winds were quiet and the chants faint to his mind as he and Doomhammer circled one another. Orgim his signature weapon and Nazgrel with an ornate axe he had grown fond of.

Orgim spoke, "There is no shame in surrendering, you merely wanted to defend one you hold in high regard," The Warchief said. "He may be no Orc, but I am no stranger to odd allies. Stand own pup, and know I shall not shame you for it."

Nazgrel snorted, "If you were to shame me, I would take it as a compliment, backstabber."

The Orcs gaze sharpened, "You use that name in ignorance of what I did, of why I did it."

"No, I do not speak of the humans general, or your own Warchief, or even the long dead warriors whose blood is on your hands. No, I speak of how you betrayed us!"

The chanting grew incensed on the Horde's side, heavy thumping and roars making the mountains quake.

"I led our people, I return to lead them now, to freedom, not as subjects but as free Orcs!"

"You speak off returning? Bah! It is for that reason you are a traitor, you Orgrim Doomhammer led us to defeat, you ran away and left us to rot in the camps, you return only now when the Drakkari have done your work for you!"

He leveled his axe at the hulking Orc whose grasp on his weapon made the handle screech, "You are a fool, a coward and unworthy to be Warchief!"

The howling was like a hurricane and few bellows matched that Orgrim let loose as he charged forward, hammer drawn back.

Nazgrel raced to meet him, the snow not slipping beneath his boots, he had grown used to fighting on snow fields after all. Drawing his axe back mere inches before they met, he let it loose and saw Orgrim slash it away, too fast to even blink.

Nazgrel slammed his feet into the ground as the Horde cheered on their Warchief; he lashed out with a fist that in a single, violent crunch was ripped asunder by the black blur of the Doomhammer.

Nazgrel's speed carried him forward, he stopped bracing, instead kicking off from the ground and lurching forward like a viper . Pouncing on Doomhammer before the Orc could draw his weapon back again.

"W-"

Nazgrel buried his fangs in the Warchiefs neck, bloody copper and bitter bile flooded his mouth as sinew and meat was torn free. He grasped the warrior's hair and yanked his head back and with a violent snap of his jaws, tore out his throat and sent them crashing to the ground.

The snow crunched beneath them as they fell, Ogrim's body lurching for a moment before going limp in his grasp.

The mountains were deathly silent save for the howling of the wind, as if none could believe Doomhammer would die.

Maybe he was still alive but knowing his spine was utterly broken, Nazgrel spat the sinew from his mouth, coloring the snow red as he forced himself to stand on shaking legs, left side going numb.

With a gagging gasp, he raised his surviving arm up and made to roar, when a scream cut through the air and drove its way into his skull as well as any axe. Nazgrel couldn't even see Hellscream, just a flash of green and- blue?

Hellscream's charge was cut short, his axe embedded in the armored side of Xex'Mon whose mighty frame encompassed Nazgrel's; his shoulders quaking as he grasped the weapon and held it in place.

"You will need to strike me down before this one lets your hurt even one Legionary," he spat.

With a howl, Grom tore his weapon free, the Shaman from before was shouting something but Nazgrel could not hear, barely even see as he began to fall, collapsing into the robed form of a priest.

"He lost, show some honor!" He thought he heard Burx bellow, leaping into the fray and tackling Hellscream away from Xex'Mon.

Pleasant and soothing magic flowed over his arm, calming the seething pain running throughout as another Troll hastily bandaged it. Nazgrel tried to watch what came next, flashes of blurred strikes and shouting rang out.

Xex'Mon was dragging Burx back, a wall of ice between them and a livid Hellscream.

Drakkari Legionaries held their ranks, shields high and the distant sound of Shamans chanting as the earth rumbled and the winds grew loud, but it soothed rather than terrified him.

Calls for calm from the blind Shaman went unheeded, the Horde's shining red eyes lit up the mountainside as shouting and shoving turned to roaring and furious fighting and yet.

"Are we.. Marching?" Nazgrel groaned as he was pulled further back into the throng.

"That is not an advance," Xex'Mon muttered as his side.

Walls of ice began to rise between the Horde and the Legionaries.

Orcish Shamans looked on helplessly as the warriors on the other side brawled with one another, while others charged the Drakkari lines while mourning roars echoed across the lands.

"It is a riot."

---

NOTES

So this might be a contentious chapter, not sure, but while I usually don't care for the Mak'gora it works well for what I needed to happen here.

As to these developments, I figure that Orcs who grew up in the camps might developed complicated feelings about those who avoided them and didn't try to help if given the opportunity to. What's more, Orgrim was actually captured by the Alliance and Teranas wanted to negotiate a truce, but he bailed and went into hiding to angst.

I tried to hint at the influences of demonic energies on Grom and the Orc supremacy stuff Orgrim spent the better part of his life around. Plus in general, lots of nations and peoples just kind of don't like being ruled by outside forces and smaller nations can still utilize geography and a stretched empire to great effect giving them potentially more clout than if they were members.

I also prefer to keep Orgrim as having assassinated Blackhand and Lothar, I think making him someone who wanted the old days of 'honor' back but who used dishonorable methods makes him more interesting as a character than the comparative meathead of the later lore and it gives his redemption in canon more weight to have realized dishonorable means won't lead to honorable outcomes and ensure his canonical death remains thematically appropriate over nonsensical.

Also Nazgrel won here mostly by pissing off Orgrim and doing a "risk it all" play, he'd have lost in a straight fight and knew it. Also he inadvertently weaponized the bloodlust and temperamental nature of the Horde against itself here, I hope this proved interesting!

 

[Zam]

Interlude - Moments in War 2 ​

Voices
Tormak the Scarred had lived a long and adventurous life, as the many marks upon his form would tell any who dared challenge his acclaim. He had joined in battle against Drakkari Raiders, toured the plateau of Dragonblight and survived imprisonment by a Nerubian, slain metal creatures and travelled with the Storm Giants.

He also, quite naturally, had visited the Grizzly Hills, both as a youth and in his role as chief of the Oneqwah nation.

He'd been awed by the vast fields for herds surrounding the Jalgar's capital, their mighty array satellite towns each of which seemed a small city unto itself, with mighty walls of layered woods, on the banks of rivers. Within the Jalgar's homes had impressed him again, great domes of layered thatch blessed by the spirits, with great hollow trees carved into singular tower fort in their heart.

And of course, Tormak had explored the Luminous City itself, Grizzlemaw.

He had climbed the steep hills, stood in the shadow of a fallen titan that was every bit as tall as the mountains he called home. Watched dumbstruck as thousands, millions of sparkling golden lights filled the sky and wandered the packed but sedate streets that wound through the city's hearts, houses upon houses, upon houses before one would see the city's heart, but never had he been permitted to enter that sacred final, sacred place.

'Until now,' he mused, ruminating on the invitation sent to his people and their greatest subject clan, practically a nation unto themselves, the Winterhoof. Sitting across from him, nursing a pipe was their Chieftain Ashtotem.

Tormak waited for the younger leader to finish his ceremonial puff, the other Taunka loosing the smoke in sharp, crisp circles. Then he began tapping it against the ornate brazer sat between them on the balcony of Tormark's chiefly residents that overlooked the largest of his people's settlements, yurts, wooden houses and great supply depots buried into the cliff face. So large and so spread out he struggled to see its beginning or end, as the snow fall drifted down around them.

Finally, Ashtotem spoke, "So many years, so many generations as a mere subject to the whims of the Grizzlemaw, and now they have us come running to their capital. I dislike this elder."

Tormak nodded, releasing a wave of smoke from his maw before answering, "Strange times we are living in. The cursed lands are not so cursed as Drakkari stake their claims, and now the five Great Clans invite us to the heart of their territory."

Ashtotem snorted, "I have spoken with the Rageclaw and wonder if the Winterhoof should appeal to the Drakkari? The Icetotem seem to have done well for themselves, if their speaker is to be believed."

Tormak nodded, "There is wisdom in that, the Drakkari now stand as the strongest force in the North, and maybe the South as well. But it has been this way before and turned against them, while Grizzlemaw has remained."

Ashtotem sent him an askance glook, "You intend to remain servile then?"

"Do I look, servile?" Ashtotem had the good grace to look abashed, ducking his head and inviting Tormak to speak again. "I merely state fact, the Drakkari tend to expand and contract, rise and fall as we ourselves did in ages past, while the likes of the Nerubian and Jalgar remain sturdy."

Ashtotem nodded, "You think we could be racing into the arms of one standing on a cracking ice sheet, I understand and yet still, to be free of the Jalgar's yoke and paw on our pride… It may well be worth it."

Tormak took in another puff of smoke and nodded, he could sympathize after all, "That is true, but it leaves me wondering what the Clans seek to discuss with us, to be invited to their Caucus."

Ashtotem huffed out a cascading wave of smoke, "Likely to rally for support in case the Drakkari invade again; which would be a good time to slip away from them, I think."

Tormak hummed, stroking a hand through his tuft, "It could, it surely could, but they would know this danger as well, and may be preparing for it. We should hear what they have to say I think."

"Do we have any choice as things are?" Ashtotem stilled and turned to face him fully, "You intend we turn this to our advantage."

Tormak chuckled, "Which sounds better to you my friend, being one voice, alone and isolated, one voice among so many it is drowned out, or one among a few who have not the choice but to heed us if they wish to keep us."

"You presume much, but if you are right…"

"I am certain of it, they concede it themselves by inviting us to the caucus, now all we need do is present a strong, united front, and assuming their plan is not folly, secure ourselves in the caucus as a mighty nation in our own right."

Ashtotem chuckled, "I like the sound of that."

---

Fang & Claw

Within a grand and opulent tent, with all the royal regalities and comforts, a cadre of men and women stood on one side of a map table headed by King Genn Greymane.

On the other side, stood Josiah Avery of the Northgate Rebellion in a finely pressed blue suit with gold time, his dark red hair tied back in a neat ponytail.

"I take it then, there shall be no negotiation?" Josiah intoned mournfully.

Genn snorted, "Negotiate with who, you retainer, with the common rabble Darius and whipped into a frenzy, with traitors who stalk the woods of Silverpine!?" Genn slammed his palms against the table, "You have not the rank of the wit to treat with me, and your treasonous master shall soon realize that of himself."

Josiah sighed, "The people go to who shall rule them well; the wall was always folly your grace, and this was inevitable."

Genn snorted, "So they claimed when the wall rose and yet it took half a decade for the rabble to be roused. Do not think yourself clever, boy? A few peasant rebellions and a host of thugs pretending to be soldiers, do not a challenge to my crown make. But worry not, I shall keep Darius and his traitor sister alive long enough to see our armies wash over Silverpine and tear the trolls from our palaces. But you shall not."

"What?" Josiah jolted in terror but ground himself grappled by Genn's guards, "I am a diplomat, you cannot do this to me!"

"A common criminal is all you are," Genn muttered, "Get him out of my sight and then take his head and send it to Darius, I feel that should make my feelings clear."

"Yes, your majesty," The guards intoned gravely, dragging a struggling, and screaming Josiah from the room, tears streaming down his face.

Genn ignored the judgmental stare of his son and said, "Thule Ravenclaw, send word to the Royal Mage, it is time for him to show the worth of these creatures he summoned up."

Thule Ravenclaw grinned and bowed, "I shall inform Royal Mage Arugal immediately your grace," before vanishing from the tent in a flash of purple light.

Genn dropped into his seat, "Well this shall be a good test, once these beasts tear through the rabble, we can cow the rest back into their place and levy a harsh fine against them.

"Here here!" Cheered Baron Ashbury, fresh off being chased from his lands by peasant rebels.

Liam ran a hand through his hair, "He wasn't wrong about the people father-"

"You cannot mean to side with the rebels Prince Liam!" Hiram Creed crowed.

"Mind your tongue when speaking to royalty, Hiram," Tess hissed from her brother's side.

Liam barreled on forward, "I mean it father, had we not neglected Silverpine, these trolls would not have had such an easy time of it. Had we not raised the wall, we'd have not needed the Harvest Witches; we shall be feeling their absence come the next growing season."

"Ungrateful heretics," Genn muttered. His true focus on the map and his plans for the rebels holding the gate intent on rallying a large enough host to make him submit, open it and invade the trolls with nary a plan for future expansion, just more abdication to the Alliance and the peasantry.

"Father!" Tess snapped at him, and he finally turned to his children.

"I hear you, but if they wanted this changed, there were channels to go through. Darius is not a hero, he is but an ambitious traitor and we can show no mercy, give no ground, lest the entire apparatus of our nation collapse."

Pushing himself to his feet, he said, "While our rivals bled themselves dry, we remain strong. Now, with the monsters Arugal conjured for us, we shall need not even throw away our own soldiers' lives as we reclaim all that is ours and begin expanding outwards.

Genn traced his fingers along the map.

"That will be more than boon enough to offset the temporary losses of the witches, and the people shall cheer." He looked upon his children and smiled, "Your care for the layfolk is commendable, but you need a stern hand when guiding the peasantry lest their idleness make them wanton. And you need a ruthless heart for your enemies lest it is used against you."

He raised his hands and motioned to the wall none among them could see, "With the wall we have been secured and it has proven its worth. Now, sooner than any realize, Gilneas shall be on the march and the empire we build shall be the envy of the world."

His children bowed, "Yes father."

"Good, now come along all of you, if we wish to be on hand for Arugal's handiwork we must mount up swiftly."

"Yes King Greymane, as you say."

---

To Roam

Cariel Roame, once a proud apprentice paladin and loyal soldier of the Silver Hand, now just one of a host of nameless, faceless refugees. She'd taken anyone and everyone she could when the capital fell, and more people joined them as the days passed, like droplets she thought would turn into a storm, but they did not.

The Drakkari sealed the walls, their patrols, and forces too many and too organized for more than drips and drabs to slip through, along with those who left ahead of them. Their numbers still grew though and denied the Eastern Paths they instead marched through Silverpine, trailing behind the Orcs by weeks in divided parties and hunting packs to avoid the detection.

It worked for some, not for all, and with Dalaran's fall their numbers swelled more, even now she knew of four camps of their number scattered across Hillsbrad's rolling hills. The snow finally fading to reveal thick, green grass and days' worth of rain.

'At least water is never hard to come by,' she thought, holding her hand out and feeling lingering droplets slap against her leather gloves.

"Paladin," A young voice whispered, tugging at her long brown cloak that obscured what remained of her armor, "People coming. One behind, one at the front, some horses either side."

She hid a frown and nodded, "We planned for this, I'll meet the frontward forces, my sister will cover me, tell the crossbow-men to be ready, the others should know what to do."

"Yes Paladin," he intoned, disappearing before she could correct him.

'Just an apprentice,' she wanted to say, but that hardly inspired confidence in some and others just didn't listen.

Sighing, Cariel rose to her feet and slipped through the camp, careful to avoid stumbling over the huddled masses and quietly missing her hammer.

'But that's too obvious, even this lot would see it,' she thought scathingly, at the sight of an orange banner with a white falcon and the handful of men surrounding its bearer.

The man before her had slicked back brown hair, and hawkish features common for the Alterici, or so she'd been told. An Eastweld girl born and bred she'd barely been out of the cradle when the nation was gutted; so sad it wasn't done thoroughly enough.

Forcing the bile down, Cariel bowed as she approached the man, his dark leathers letting him blend into the gloomy early morning with ease. "Hello sirs, what brings you to this humble camp."

The man smirked, "Why charity my dear woman, the roads are not safe places to be with rebels still afoot and you all seem hungry and most cold. Let us escort you somewhere safe."

'So that's their plan,' she thought, glancing back at their camp. 'We outnumber them but have few fighters, still to be so confident they must either be very powerful or have faced little resistance so far.' By the Light she hoped they were just fools and said, "We won't trouble you sirs for that, we are but a few days from civilization."

The man's smile became sharp, "Dalaran is not welcoming to outsiders right now miss, and Southshore is the only other city nearby. You would not be rebels, would you?" His men chuckled and their camp retracted further into itself, like a snake waiting to bite.

"We are mere refugees sir, no threat to anyone, please, let us pass," she said weakly, pulling her cloak around herself tighter.

The man shook his head, "Afraid not love. The white falcon flies anew and we'll need all the help we can get to rebuild what the Alliance broke. But fret not, handsome woman like you will be in Beve's bed before long!" His words drew chuckles and jeers from the Syndicate bandits.

Cariel sauntered a step closer, "Well, I'd had to disappoint a queen, but I must admit…" she placed a hand on his chest, "My interests tend towards. The Light."

In a single, blazing moment a flash of gold exploded from her hand and ripped its way through the man's chest, and struck the standard bearer, sending him and his flag to the ground. Shouts rang out, "Paladin!"

As crossbow bolts flew from the camp, and Cariel saw fire fly overhead, forcing the mage to defend himself. Not wasting a moment, she charged forward, golden aura shimmering as a rogue loosed knives at her; she grasped the mages arm, a dagger flying free from her wrist, she buried it in the woman's throat.

She turned to deal with the rogue, only to see him lying dead with a crossbow bolt in his head, and from what she could see the rest of the camp stood victorious as well.

A shuddering breath escaped her lips, chest quaking, 'There's less time than we thought.'

Turning to address the camp that still seemed stunned to have won at all, she called, "My friends, my people, we survived this encounter. But knowing now that the Syndicate extends its reach across these hills we must act with haste. Capture their horses if you can that we might send word to the others and then make ready! We have no choice but a march to Southshore! It shall be hard, but by the Light, we shall persevere!"

A golden wave of light radiated from her and washed over the camp.

"Hail Paladin Roame!" Someone called, an older soldier if she recalled and activity flooded the once docile and exhausted camp. Sucking in a breath, Cariel marched back towards the camp, sparing her sister a brief nod of thanks she wasn't sure the younger girl noticed and returning to work.

---

Arcane Insight

Seer Ixit's legs clicked and clacked against the smooth stone streets of Dalaran, with Anok'suten trailing half a step behind, her spear at the ready.

The city no long smoldered but reconstruction was slow, supplies far and the people's despair and fury seeped into the miasma of the mental skein that all Nerubian could key into.

Ixit knew that some of his contemporaries did not mind the sensations, while others found them so distracting, they had isolated themselves mentally even by the standards of wary scholars and queens.

It was perhaps, comprehensible, like the battle had not yet ended, an underlying noise that always persisted and never abated.

Perhaps if Malakk had left the Nerubians to tend to things as they saw fit, some of the fury would have been ebbed into resignation and quiet dread. Even the greatest hatreds can be smothered and leeched with the right tools.

But it was not to be, and so they would work, cataloguing and collecting the artifacts and lore, while tying their newest works into the Ley Lines themselves. A humble construction now, deep beneath the Earth, but soon to be an elegant interceptor of the lands Arcane energies that would serve as the heart of future laboratories and control centers.

Anok'suten stiffened, her carapace shuddering and with an explosion of force she was charging through the street and towards the Arcane Vault.

Ixit stopped their strides, the locks clicking as they keyed into the skein and noted an absence of Abus'Thal and his twin guards. Anok'suten was cutting down and casting web along the escaping agents, its arcane threads disjoining their magical efforts. Ixit touched upon the lingering synapses and interpolated the words of Abus'Thal's killers.

"For Dalaran."

Murderous intent and a surrender to self-destruction akin to a well, told Ixit all it needed, and a psychic cry sent Anok'suten rearing back, simplified arcane barriers rising to shield her as Ixit did the same for itself, even shifting behind the larger Nerubians distant frame to further suppress any danger.

They were just in time.

The iron and gold line vault, riddled with crystals and sigils swell with surging arcane energy before it began compacting in on itself like a star, intent on draining the ambient energies into an explosion.

'Cast your net,' Ixit ordered.

Anok'suten leapt forward and loose every last arcane thread she possessed, arcane energy lancing off and striking her side, but she did not die.

Ixit's eyes opened wide, magic coiled and collected into neat, interlocking chains that bled in from the Nether and bound the heart of the cascading construct before dragging it into the other realm. Only a permeating pulse on the air, un-felt by the blind was felt as it exploded in a wave of arcane fury across the Nether.

To all the effect of a candle flickering in a forest fire.

'They are growing bolder, and more dangerous,' Ixit mused.

Anok'suten staggered to the few surviving captive, venom dripping from her fangs as she rendered them unconscious for interrogation.

'This is compounded by artifacts lost, or sacrificed'

Several Drakkari agents marched into the street, quick to offer healing to Anok'suten under the terms of their alliance, and question what happened. Ixit tapered off their last mental note to a distant record as a Drakkari Commander approached with questions on their mind.

'Dalaran remains unstable, its populace may be unmanageable.'

---

Family & Freedom

Thrall breathed in the fresh mountain air, so cool in his chest and a little thin, but infinitely better than that of the keeps. He glanced to his side at the diminutive blonde human girl striding confidently as his side as they meandered down a slim crevice, moss, roots and looming jagged rocks all around them.

"I don't think I will ever want to sleep in a brick building again," he said without thought.

Taretha twirled, her tattered dress flaring a little as she answered, "I understand completely, so fresh and clean, there is something about the mountains that suits me well."

They were dangerous as well of course, as those who had shot ahead or refused to stay in a large group had found, gryphon, yeti of dubious intelligence and likely many other horrors left those isolated to be found dead or dying by the rest of them.

Thrall carefully cast his gaze around, hand resting on the handle of his sword, while Taretha smiled, "I think it is just around this bend, ah here we are!"

Awaiting them at the first 'marker' was a human and an orc, both sitting as far from one another as the mountain path would allow, each with ill fitting shields and axes in hand. No on trusted the other enough to let them form their own groups, leaving no choice but for this unhappy compromise.

"Ah food at last," Cheered the human weakly, his beard bristling as he rose to his feet with a groan.

"Smoke Gryphon, for you and the other patrols, I hope you like it," Taretha said, as they both offered the watchers rough whicker baskets laden with the nights catch.

Thrall's counterpart inspected the offering carefully, furtively glancing at the human's pack, making Thrall bristle, "They're even, I counted."

The Orcs red eyes were bright in the dim light, but lacked much spark as he grumbled, "I will continue to be cautious, as should you."

Thrall ignored the warning, glancing passed the Orc, "Any word from further in?"

The watcher shook his head, "There was a flare up of lightning and fire on the early morn, seems the Dwarves and Trolls aren't done with each other yet and until they are…"

Thrall sighed, "None of us can pass safely," He shook his head, "It only grows worst West as well, those humans with the orange masks now command the wall and swell their ranks."

The watcher grunted, biting into a hunk of meat, "Foods better out here at least."

Thrall's meals had usually been slightly better, but he nodded all the same, ears twitching as the human tried to whisper. "You sure you're Ok with that one, girly?"

"Why wouldn't I be, he's my brother," She answered, drawing stares from both human and Orc alike.

Thrall cracked his neck, as a pretense to avoid meeting anyone's stare and said, "We'd best head back, give the watchers our regards, and their fair share."

"We know the rules," Both of them grunted dropping back to their rocky seats to await the next check in and presumably continue glaring at one another.

Thrall and Taretha turn away and disappeared behind the gentle curve, Thrall not speaking until he was well out of earshot, "They will continue to stare when you say that."

Taretha waved him off, "Oh let them stare, it shan't change the truth that you've been my brother since the day I laid eyes on you."

Thrall ducked his head, his smile small but clear, "Even when our people's part ways?"

The blonde shrugged, "Who says we shall part, and if so, why would I march with them?" Taretha threw her hands in the air, "For the first time in our lives we have the chance to choose, I'll not give that up so meekly."

His brow furrowed, "Could you not always leave?"

That drew a strained chuckle, "I could move about the Keep more easily than you I won't deny, but in the end, if Blackmoore desired me, I was at his beck and call." Her hands brushed down her arms as if trying to free them of dirt, "I am glad he is gone from our lives."

Thrall did not know what to think of the man, but something in the way Taretha moved and talk when his name was about worried and rankled him. But something else resounded quietly in his head, the word, choice.

His head lolled back, "I am glad you have choices now, that we all have choices… I don't think I ever envisioned myself having such things before now."

She was grinning again, hand resting on his shoulder, "So, do you have any choices planned for the future?"

"Just one," He turned to her, "Calling you my elder sister."

Taretha's eyes widened, and Thrall quickly found himself tugged into a gentle hug, "Thank you, little brother."

---

Father & Son

"I'll get back to Ironforge and tell them of what happened, we won't let these traitors get away with it, I swear," Muradin had assured him before they even approached Stromgarde.

At the time, Thoras had agreed, letting the Dwarf move on ahead as he and his made their way into the city to recoup, reconvene and regain their momentum.

'Now however I regret it, what has happened here?' Thoras thought, as he took in the seemingly deserted streets. People were hiding within their homes if they were present at all. Weeds were stomped beneath his feet as he marched towards the keep, his shouts for action unheard.

Looking to Knight-Captain Aldrin he motioned for the man to fan out with his Cavalryman. Looking to Captain Nials he muttered, "Take the Soldiers and form ranks, Commander Amaren hold the center with my Troll_Hunters."

"As you command, my liege."

Steel and cloven hoof rang out as his ranks reformed and soon enough, they arrived at the peak of the 'Kings Road', where the nobility made their homes and his keep stood above all.

It was here that he finally saw signs of life, but they brought only a scowl to his features. Nobles, Spellweavers, soldiers and more were scattered around in tight bunches. In the crowds he could see Ariana Thesslocke, head of the Stromgarde Defenders but saw no sign of Dathanor Cromwell. All were watching from their fine homes or upon battlements and not a one acknowledged him.

"Is this any way to greet your king and the army of Stromgarde!?"

"I am sorry this reception displeases you father," Galen's voice echoed from the keeps grand entryway, "But not as sorry I am that it was necessary."

Adorned in crimson red and silver armor befitting a king and atop his head with Thoras's crown, his son stepped forward, favored battle brother Valorcall at his side and it was to him the nobles bowed and the soldiers saluted.

A viscus snarl ripped from his throat as Thoras stomped forward, "Take. Off. My. Crown."

Galen's gaze sharpened as he marched to meet him, arms open, voice imploring but severe, "Not yours any longer father. This kingdom needs a monarch who will put its people before his own lust for battle and glory."

"Treasonous, cowardly little cur!" He drew Trol'kalar, the act making the crowd wince. "You think we have the time for your damned games when there is a war to win boy?!"

"What war? One for a fallen nation and former ally, the one you have already retreated from?" He countered, coming to a halt a bare foot from Thoras, standing with assured confidence Thoras had never seen in him before.

"We were ambushed, as you damn well know before you came scarpering home like a whipped cur!"

Galen tilted his head in mock curiosity, "I am sorry father, but as it stands all I did was arrive ahead of you. Should we really be throwing around such insults?"

'You are not my equal boy!' His fist lashed out on instinct only to be met with a gauntlet adorned hand catching the blow.

"Not… Today father," Gale hissed, eyes burning as he lurched forward and with a single motioned shoved Thoras to his back with a clang.

Soldiers gasped and shouted "Treason!" His Troll Hunters raced to join his side, axes at the ready but Galen did not attack, going so far as to strut around as if a performer on a stage.

"You think this the time to selfishly seek power, brat!?" He roared. "You will hand this nation over to the trolls!" Thoras forced himself to his feet, chest heaving, the taste of copper on his tongue.

Galen threw his arms wide, bellowing, "The Alliance makes us stronger. This war shall remind all the kingdoms of our might. Durnholde is safe. Always father you make grand claims, and always you are wrong!"

He swept his gaze over the crowd, "Your leadership has led to our people racing to Stormwind seeking new lives, your leadership has left our nation poor, your leadership led fine soldiers to their deaths at Durnholde! You are not fit to be king father, so please… Stand down and let me do what must be done to save us all."

"In a pig's eye I will. Bow to you, sniveling little Galen!? I would sooner hang!" Without another word he roared forward, thrusting Trol'kalar towards the boy's face only to barely scratch his cheek as Galen batted away his blade with his shield.

They wove around on another in a blur, Galen damn near tripping him and sending him reeling back with a blow to the jaw. Using the momentum, he lurched back and threw himself around for a spinning sword swipe the boy leaned out of the way of.

"Give up, Galen, you cannot stand against Trol'kalar!"

Grasping his ruby jeweled sword Galen muttered, "That sacred sword is for killing trolls, against I it is but another bastard sword, while this," his drew the blade and it roared to life with rippling flames, "Will be more than you can handle. Thoras."

A gun shot rang out from behind Galen. In a sudden flash Valorcall was between him and the dwarven musket shot that crashed against his armor with a violent clang.

"Valorcall!?"

"I live, Galen!"

Ariana shouted from her place at the keep, "Did losing a battle bring low your honor as well Thoras!?"

"Rich words from a traitor!" Knight-Captain_Aldrin bellowed.

Roars rose from amongst his forces, but they were too few and too quiet for Thoras's liking they should have shaken the city with their fury!

Galen's sharp tongue cut through the din, "They are patriots! They are those will put our nation before its rivals, our safety before their bloodlust and the kingdom before a fool king!"

"Put these traitors down!" Thoras roared.

Galen raised his gleaming blade high, "They have become our enemies, Stromgarde_Snipers_Company, take aim and fire, Defenders, heed your commander, Valorcall, watch my back!" He slashed his blade as gun shots and shouts began to echo across Stromgarde.

"This is between my father and I."

Soldiers and defenders, spellweavers and riflemen, father, and son, all charged to meet their foes, with a shared proclamation on their lips.

"For Stromgarde!"

---

Stormwind Speculation

Mathias Shaw did not reveal himself to the public as the House of Lords entered another round of furious debates with the crown in the royal hall. Instead, he simply leaned against the white stone walls that separated the ornate windows and let the words drift to him. Unnecessary of course, he had agents within the chamber, but he liked to get out and about, and even more to hear things firsthand.

"We must march to Lordaeron's aid!"

"What Lordaeron? Have you not heard; Lianne now consorts with a damned Troll!"

"Still your tongue, she has no choice in the matter!"

"We ignore our debts-"

"You ignore the needs of our people!"

It was about what he expected, until Prestor spoke.

"My Lords, my ladies, my liege and most holy Archbishop, we must not feud amongst ourselves in these most dire of times; for if we do, then the very bedrock upon which this kingdom is built shall shatter."

"Then what say you, Lady Prestor?" Bolvar intoned sternly.

Mathias grimaced, 'A miscalculation, she would not have spoken if she did not want to be heard, you now invite her to control the floor.'

"Lord Bolvar, I stand with the Alliance, the Light and Justice, we must take action but not so hastily as we have done. With Winters end, so too shall come Spring and the Summer sun, and by working in concert we can turn the invaders strategies against them and chase them from our shores!"

"That… Has merit," Varian began slowly, "But suggests we wait some time, Lady Prestor."

Mathias could practically imagine the mental shuffling going on across the court as Prestor's allies adjusted their stances, and her critics pulled back support. Resting his head against the cool stone he motioned the arriving spy to speak her report as the court got its heads back in order.

"It is going well, no?" She mused.

"We shall see, Prestor never does anything lest she stands to gain from it, the question is what," it would be awfully convenient for her if the king were to die on campaign after all. "Whatever the case, your report?"

"Yes sir, we have captured one of Vancleef's lieutenants, but the other sources turned up dry, it seems they are going to ground entirely."

"Hmm, it is very interesting that the moment war came knocking we began receiving so many informants." If only he could track some pattern down in their number and associated he might know who the shadow pulling their strings was. "Still, it seems Vancleef realizes whoever was supporting him has turned away, and he's never been a fool; he will be far harder to track down now."

And with talk of war, the Horde in the North and shadowy schemers still pulling strings, Mathias knew they needed to clean up around their feet before any grand action could be taken, lest they risk losing all they had reclaimed.

'I just hope his majesty will feel the same way.'

---

NOTES:

Moments in War 2, Electric Boogaloo, letting me touch on several people, locations and subjects people have been asking about and set up some stuff for down the line.

Happy to finally have utilized the Oneqwa nation and Grizzlemaw in a more official capacity, someone I chat with this story about noted I left them too passive, so this is setting some stuff up for them down the line. It was a tricky segment to write as I debated trying to write a whole caucus scene but eventually decided against it as this felt smoother.

Thanks to those who suggested utilizing the Northgate rebellion, it was nice to cover this, plus the mobilization of the Harvest Witches and such in more detail than I'd originally planned, & hey another diplomat Genn ordered murdered.

I really like Cariel's design and the hints of her story OK, I had to bring her back, especially as I do have some plans for her later on. Also some added hints that while Malakk's trying to do this as honorably as possible, he and those of a like-mind can't be everywhere at once and his own allies have their own needs and goals to accomplish.

Writing Nerubians from an insider perspective over an outsider one is hard and as people suggested, there's definitely resistance movements active in Dalaran.

I'm glad feedback convinced me to touch on what was going down with Thrall, long term plans are still a bit vague but I hope this was engaging. Also I really enjoy Taretha being like, someone who has a lot of faith in Thrall but is also protective, cos the mental image of this diminutive human maid being the protective elder sister to this burly warrior is wholesome.

And on the opposite end of the familial affection spectrum we finally get the pay off for all those scenes foreshadowing this moment and some hints as to why things went south for the Stromgarde advance even more than you'd expect.

Heeey, we finally get a check in with Stormwind, I've been wanting to do this but never sure where to put it, also Mathias is being very anime right now but I needed him that way, for the plot XD

 

[Zam]

The Torrents of War: Part 3 - Pieces on the Board​

The last few days had been many things to Burx.

It was inspiring, to have seen Nazgrel's triumph over Orgrim through his embattled defense of Chieftain Xex'Mon. The other orcs hand had even been regrown by the blessings of the Drakkari's deities in what could only be called a miracle.

It was dispiriting, to have seen so many of his kindred lose themselves to riots and fury. Their foes even going so far as to unleash Warlock magics in the chaos, but even their own Legionaries had some surrender to treason or bloodlust, but thankfully only a few.

It had also all proven exhausting; stomping through the winding mountain peaks, picking across ruined villages and abandoned camps. Occasionally being struck by raiders or finding their kindred dead in the snow from exhaustion and cold.

'Some part of me truly hopes this promised land in the North is not so miserable and grim as this place.' He thought, looking at the bleak grey mountains and skies, the pristine white snow doing nothing to waylay the growing slush and sense of grim oppressiveness.

He shook his head and returned to the moment at hand, as he followed Xex'Mon, Nazgrel and a host of other commanders and Priests into a winding ravine.

"Our native allies tell us this is where a good number of them are holed up," Xex'Mon intoned. "Let us see if we can finally resolve these matters-"

A pained, high pitched wailing flooded the crevasse and they stormed ahead, Drakkari only able to march in single file while Burx and Nazgrel could run side by side.

What awaited them was, he supposed, the remnants of their escorts. A small creature he knew to be a Kobold lay dead in the snow, a Gnoll was wrestling with a white fur covered Orc, while a troll lay bleeding against the wall and a bird woman rebounded off the stone, shrieking in fury.

"For Zul'Drak!" he bellowed, leveling his shield at the suddenly charging warrior and redirecting his mighty axe. Stretching out his arm, Burx let himself surge forward, his open arm impacting against the taller orcs neck and sending him flying off his feet.

Skidding to a halt he saw Nazgrel slice across the bare chest of an approaching orc before headbutting him to the ground. Xex'Mon came to a sudden halt and with one mighty hand hoisted the wrestling orc off the thrashing gnoll and lazily slammed her against a wall.

The last tried to escape but the Harpy pounced, her claws digging into his back and lightning coursed from her body sending him into spasms.

Burx turned away, biting his tongue until, "That's enough!" Xex'Mon snapped.

The harpy rasped something at him in what sounded like a bastardisation of the trolls own tongue but Xex'Mon answered easily.

"You have won, now let our Priests and Shaman tend to the healing and tell us of what happened here."

The injured troll on the wall snorted, "Ambush, obviously. Guess they didn't want anyone finding their way to us yet?"

Burx let a War Priest slip by him, carrying the now barely breathing Kobold in the palm of her hand while moving towards the twitching orc.

"Have they taken the valley?" Nazgrel asked, a frown marring his features.

The Harpy's feathers flared and she said, "Not yet, but they gather at the mouth, we are keeping them out."

Xex'Mon nodded and held up his captive, "Anything to add?"

She spat put a gob of blood and muttered, "Should have waited, you woulda made better hostages..."

"Ah so that was the scheme," Xex'Mon nodded, "Well, I am thinking once we can all travel, we should not keep our allies waiting no?"

He looked to Nazgrel who blinked owlishly before nodding his head, "I concur, Chieftain Xex'Mon!"

It wasn't long before they started moving again, watching the high walls for another strike team, but Burx still heard it when Xex'Mon whispered to him.

"By the way Burx, excellent maneuver back there, you do us all proud."

Burx swallowed, and stood a little taller, "Thank you, Chieftain."

---

The sea air still had that distinct winter chill as it blew across Hooktusk's frame, instinctively she wanted to ground herself, but the sharp winds meant little to ships so vast and magically protected as those of the Drakkari Fleet.

With that in mind, she turned her attention back to the ever-expanding horizon from her perch on deck, the crew quietly going about their tasks, bracing for either another dull day of sailing or an ambush at any moment.

For her part, Hooktusk lounged on her chair, closer to a throne, kindly gifted by her monarch but not one she terribly liked, save for the fact it was a throne. For all her sordid, mixed heritage, Hooktusk was certain no Drakkari blood flowed in her veins and so she had not inherited the larger troll tribes affection for stone structures.

Shifting into the cushions she'd draped over it, she smacked her chops, failing to resist as yawn that overcame her.

The Holy Warrior lent left as her guard scowled, "You carry yourself far too carelessly for one of such rank."

"I carry myself exactly as seriously as I need Bil'Zed, anything else is ostentatious," Her gaze snapped to a bat on the horizon and she flung herself from the throne, "At last, we have word!"

The messenger bat swooped down with a screech and deposited a sealed scroll in her hand before flying off to join its kin on their perch.

Breaking the seal and skimming the contents thrice over, a growing frown on her lips.

"What is the word?" Bil'Zed intoned.

She waved him off, "Ships from Kul'Tiras landed at Hillsbrad, reinforcing a Lord Agrovane or some shit."

The Frosen Warlord let loose a cold breath, "Betrayal then?"

"Hardly," she scoffed, "Suspicion perhaps, but nothing so overt."

"And how would you know? Presuming your enemy's actions is folly I am thinking-"

She, somewhat gently, closed the taller troll's mouth and shook her head, "Let me worry about the intricacies of how fast messages run in contrast to ships and I shall leave you to your business."

The troll scoffed but offered a lazy salute, "So, the meeting shall still be attended?"

"For now," she said, trying to remember the Tirasi patrols from the Second War in case they would enlighten her. "Send our dragoons to scout out ahead though, more than planned, and with a wider radius."

That at least satiated the guard, Bil'Zed saluting as he spoke, "As you say, Navarch Hooktusk."

Strolling back to her throne, Hooktusk flopped down, leg swinging over the side of the arm rest as she rubbed her chin, 'I wonder if things are going smoothly in Arathi, or if I'll need to send ships to Faldir's Cove?'

---

The sun was breaking through the clouds, casting the marshalled legions in a gentle late Winter light, as the snow grew thinner on the sloped fields, the slush being pushed aside by Shamans will leaving them a clear path to march.

From atop his chosen mammoth mount, Malakk murmured, "Thoradin's Wall, an impressive thing to be sure."

And it was. Smaller than some of Zul'Drak's wall perhaps but by no means fragile, and despite recent wounds it had obviously withstood the test of time. Its white stone jutting out from the earth and stretching well out of sight North and West.

Orange adorned Syndicate soldiers lined the defenses, while others gathered at the base, part of an advance force promised by Beve, bolstering their number to that of six Legions.

"Will you be maintaining the Wall?" Gal'Darah asked, "Zul'Drak has its tiers but the steps are always open."

Malakk chuckled, "An empire should not have closed doors, yes I am familiar with the thought, still," He toyed with his tusk, humming. "This is a heritage site for humans, tearing down would be… Disrespectful. But perhaps it could stand to be remodeled some? We shall decide later and act as we need."

Gal'Darah nodded in acceptance, his brow furrowing, "I am surprised Royal Counselor Perenolde has not returned."

"I imagine she has much to discuss with Lord Falconcrest," Pai Stormbringer hummed from her place, levitating near Malakk's throne grasping her newly looted Arch Mages stave tightly.

Malakk nodded, leaning back into his throne, "I trust this will not take much longer. For now… Let us enjoy this little break in our labors, it may be the last we have for some days."

---

As far as hideouts went, Northfold Manor was certainly on the nicer end of things Beve thought. Lush farmlands, a large multi-story home bedecked in typically spartan-esc Arathi trappings and plenty of livestock that would ensure content soldiers and guards.

They were meeting outside the oaken manor of course, no room within could even begin to hold Frost King Malakk's elite guards. The sharp-eyed duo stood stiff as stone, but their eyes were alight with focus as they watched her pace along the porch, ensuring she stood above the backstabbing nobleman, trapped as he was between her and the Drakkari.

Falconcrest, all long hair and sharp angles, stood beside his square jawed and bald bodyguard Otto, neither's expression gave away anything, but they radiated worry and discontent.

"I trust you understand Lord Falconcrest, that while I don't want to impugn your scout's skills, that given recent events I want to be sure of all the facts, yes?" She kept her manner honey sweet, even as she choked her steel stave in one hand, flashing teeth with every word while Singer was humming just out of sight.

Biting back bile, Falconcrest saluted, "Our scouts are well informed on this princess-"

"Royal Councilor," she teased, motioning to the smiling Drakkari.

"Of course, Royal Councilors Perenolde," He continued rhythm offset. "My scouts can be trusted; they know we cannot trip up so late into the game."

"Hmm, yes, especially when so many risks have already been taken," she hummed, shuffling through the scattered scratches on maps and left-over notes. "Still, if this is right it seems our main adversary may be the Witherbark and Boulderfist with how Strongarde is fairing."

Falconcrest watched her for a moment before nodding, "Yes, I concur, though… I expected more, the Witherbark were meant to always have great numbers."

"Perhaps they are squabbling with the Dwarves as well, we shall have to check," she mused, "Still, if so, many people are racing for the capital or Ironforge we will need to make haste. Thank you Falconcrest, I assume you will be joining us on the march?" Her smile was wide and near gleeful, finally forcing the man to sag his shoulders.

"If I may ask, what pray-tell do you intend for me after the… Durnholde incident."

"Why, whatever do you mean?"

Brow knitting together he sucked in a breath, "I… My forces were late to reinforce your position, rumors abound, and we did lose the Keep save the foundations-"

Beve tapped her staff rhythmically in time with Singer's song, "Yes, the loss of the fort and so many new recruits was a shame, but lamentable things happen in war. Your battlefield competence may be in question, but that is no concern of mine and as to rumors," she met his gaze, "Well, I know the troops say you held back your forces long enough for me to die tragically. In fact, I know even some of your fellows whisper of even more scandalous accusations," Her tone becoming colder and sharper for but a moment, and then she leaned back. "But… I never put much stock into rumors."

She could see the wheels turning, his jaw rolling as he ground his teeth.

"Aah, but I can see it in your eyes," Beve sang, "you want to know what the catch is. But you, see, my dear lord, you have already caught yourself."

She levelled an accusing digit at him, waggling it as though he were a disobedient pup. "None will trust you now, not because your ambitions have been made clear as day, but because you have shown when everything is on the line, you will prioritize your power alone to our jeopardy."

She twirled around to face him fully, a grin on her lips as she strode between the glaring Drakkari, "Besides, if something like this were to happen again, well... Everyone would know who is at fault would they not? In fact, you would be seen as the first and likely last suspects." She patted the taller man's cheek, "So you would be well served by ensuring no one ever takes such a foolish risk again."

Falconcrest bowed low, his movements stiff and mechanical, even as relief washed over him, "I am most grateful for your wisdom and mercy, Royal Councilor Perenolde. I will never disapoint you again."

'I doubt it,' she thought, a teasing smirk on her lips, "You are most welcome my dear, now hop to it and have your forces ready to move in short order. We will need our advanced scouts after all~"

"As you wish, milady," He answered with a salute before marching from the house, Otto trailing behind him glancing back over his shoulder to ensure no surprise attack came.

"That was fun, shall we return to his imperial majesty?" Beve asked.

The elite guard nodded, as Singer slid up to her side, though the troll's brows furrowed.

"He could be likened to a kinslayer, is it wise to trust someone so unreliable?" Kutube'sa asked.

Beve shrugged, "I will be informing Frost King Malakk of his duplicity as well and if he feels differently than that shall be that. As it is, I'd rather have a neutered foe where I can see them than grappling with whoever replaces him. Besides, whatever else he may be, Falconcrest is effective and removing him risks making me look frightened."

"Mhmm, very cutthroat," the warrior rumbled.

Beve giggled, "My dears, you have no idea, that is what I adore about your politics, such… Honesty."

Bith'Sa's gaze was drifting towards the north, and Beve taped her stave, "Are you with us fair Frost Warden?"

The troll woman arched her brow briefly and chuckled, "I was merely casting my senses north, these lands have a strange power about them I am thinking, and I can sense a concentration of… Something not far from here."

"Ah, that would be the Circle of West Binding I suppose," Beve answered thoughtfully.

"You know of this magic?" Bith'Sa asked.

Beve shrugged, "Somewhat, they hearken back longer than our written histories, but the Circles of Binding dot this land and number in four. There was always tell of great magical power, of voices and diabolic rituals," she chuckled. "Some were sights of worship before the Light, for good and ill, others study, now they are forgotten, deemed relics and haunted at best, for a time it was even illegal to be present near one, lest you be accused of vile sorceries and heresies; but that is all I know of them from my studies."

Bith'Sa nodded, "There is definitely something… Off about it, I shall need to alert Frost King Malakk, so he can put a team of Shamans and Wardens onto it and establish a research post."

"You think it that serious?" Beve blinked.

Both trolls chuckled and Kutube'sa said, "With our people's history, one learns to take the things writhing beneath the earth very seriously, but we can discuss this later, shall we go?"

"You and your secrets, I hunger for more, but yes, we can discuss this in more… Comfortable surroundings," she joked, raising her staff high and feeling the air begin to tingle and pulse with magic, light pulse around them and she struck the ground and in in a flash they were gone.

---

The crown did not weigh as heavily on Galen's head as he thought it might and while Trol'kalar had been a challenge to wield, unfamiliar as it was, the Witherbark had given him ample practice in the last week.

At the thought of the damned creatures he squeezed the blade hilt, hastening his steps through the quiet capital towards the cracked but resolute walls of his city Ariana Thesslocke with a platoon Stromgarde Defenders and his own snipers following in his wake.

The sun was breaking through the end of winters gloom, but when he breathed mist still escaped his mouth. He came to a stop at the city gates as they began to creak and groan, swinging inwards and the first genuine smile of the day blossomed on his lips at the sight of Valorcall and his retinue awaiting them.

The taller man flung himself from his horse and marched forward to kneel, "My king, I am heartened to see you are well!"

Pulling Valorcall to his feet, Galen grinned, "A little worse for wear but well enough."

Ariana cut in, "The Witherbark's assault broke two days ago, though not before their ogres breached an outer wall, we nearly lost a district."

"But we did not," Galen stressed, turning back to his battle brother he clapped the man on the shoulders and frowned, "You have word from the front."

"I do my liege it is… Less than ideal."

Sighing he answered, "As things seem to be these days, what happened?"

Valorcall sighed, "Ironforge got word of the succession but do not acknowledge your claim, they have opened their borders to any who wish to leave Stromgarde."

Galen bit back a snarl, "I expected as much, but I did not think they would act so swiftly. Can we destroy Thandol Span?"

"Maybe if we had acted a week ago," Ariana said with a scowl, "But they will be too well defended for anything save a suicide mission now."

Valorcall nodded, "She is correct, I had sub commander Dathanor Cromwell investigate as best he could but by all accounts the Dwarves of Dun Modr are well armed and alert; what's mroe the Ogres stalking the highways complicated matters further."

Galen's hands balled into fists, his teeth grinding, "Damn the Trolls and damn the Ogres, twenty years of silence and only now they choose to be a thorn in our side, I'd almost respect the cunning if it weren't so damned inconvenient!"

His lieutenants nodded in sympathy as he tried to rally, "Are they at least proving a hindrance for the Dwarves?"

Valorcall frowned, "Somewhat, they are raiding refugees, more-so now that they broke off their assault, but I cannot help but think they are planning something greater."

'Dammit, the trolls alone we could have dealt with, the Ogres alone, the damned Dwarves alone, but all at once with people fleeing South, we have not the means!'

"Come, join me in the war room, you can eat and rest up while we discuss how best to… prioritize our forces."

The mood was dour as they began the trek back to the Keep, a falcon's shadow passing over their heads unnoticed.

---

Navarch Hooktusk idly ground some sand beneath her heel, her Holy Bodyguard standing nearby alert and as humorless as his homeland was cold.

The microscopic island they stood upon was barely twenty feet in length, a mix of hole filled coral that was being worn away at by wind and waves, leaving for a slight dip to make a sand bank lined with moss and seaweed.

"Heave ho! Heave ho!" Some obviously human voiced bellowed, making her sigh with relief.

"Finally, we can get this meeting over with," She muttered, tossing back a sip of her diminishing rum supply as she watched the ship fade into view and caught sight of the square jawed, brunette in a long billowing cloak that was Flynn Fairwind.

Bil'Zed started to lecture, "Remember to be on guard and that you speak with-"

"Frost King Malakk's voice, yes, yes, I know," She mocked, "how about you do your job and stand guard with your invisible little panther friend there and leave negotiating with pirates, to the pirate."

The Drakkari scowled, his gaze flickering to the near invisible frame of a black spotted, white furred leopard wreathed in unfamiliar magics obscuring their presence.

Flynn's rowboat drifted to their meeting spot and with a quick flick of some rope around a thick bit of stone was pulled in. The dapper pirate clapped his towering cousin, Klause on the shoulder and was followed by the man as he hopped from the boat and onto the island. Leaving behind a sprightly looking gunner watching from the water, dwarven rifle resting on their shoulder and gaze set upon them.

She threw her arms wide and cackled, "Flynn Fairwind, how are you ya old pirate?!"

"Well enough," he answered gamely, a smile on his lips but his arms remaining tight to his frame, "Forgive me for not reflecting your warmth back at you but given past encounters I feel some tension may be warranted."

She snorted, "Come now, when have we ever fought seriously."

"You set one of my crew on fire," He answered with a tilt to his head.

"After he stabbed one of mine," she chuckled, "The Bruisers did not care for us after that."

"They did not, I recall some other incidents but… Those were all as pirates."

She saluted with a flask, "And we are no longer pirates, but oh so noble naval commanders are we~"

The old tune was answered with a hum from Flynn even as he shook his head. "Not officially anything yet I'm afraid, save for one of several captains under contract to Lady Ashvane, for whom I was asked to speak."

"Yes, yes how did that happen I wonder?" She asked.

"Our fleet had a minor scuffle with the Tirasi as they returned from the front and our fleet commander was killed, it could have become a blood bath but then word reached us of Ashvane's offer. The promise of lands and titles for every captain kept us in one piece, as for me." He gave a helpless sort of shrug, "Apparently she liked the cut of my jib."

"Must be the way you carry yourself then, careful or she may want to marry you off to one of her spawn," Hooktusk chuckled.

"Mercy me, spare my soul from the dreary dabbling's of inbred nobles, would you? This politicking is enough to last a lifetime," With that he pulled a small flask of his own out and shared in a sailor salute before throwing back a gulp and tipping out the rest to the sand, an act she mirrored.

With the pleasantries done, both stepped forward, poised and relaxed, they met one another's stare without blinking.

Hooktusk spoke first, "So tell me, how do you see this going?"

"Exactly as promised, agents will sabotage much of the fleet in the harbor, guard stations will be struck by assassins and our collective forces shall sail in with minimal resistance."

"Wasn't asking about the plan, was asking how you see this going, you Fairwind. No one else."

The man clicked his tongue in thought, a small frown on his face, "I think the plan is true, Ashvane loathes the Proudmoores and those who watched her husband die for an honor duel. I fear less for your or our lives in the battle than I do what comes after."

"Oh, do tell?"

Flynn kicked some sand, "I do not know if what Ashvane imagines the future of Kul'Tiras will be shall line up with your kings and I'd not trust many of those she calls to her side. They likely think this no great change save a shifting of some land and titles to their own pockets and may not take kindly to the thought of a true troll king."

"They underestimate us then?" She asked.

"I think so, or perhaps merely do not understand you," He scoffed, "Or they are simply that arrogant. Ashvane thinks ruling Kul'Tiras shall be simple with the right titles and some enforcers, I am less sure."

"Hmm, it is a rough place," Hooktusk conceded, "But those are concerns for the future, as of now we cannot still ourselves in a storm for fear of what may be awaiting us on land ey?"

"You are right, we are agreed then?"

"Not yet," She countered, leaning forward, "You really trust this woman?"

Flynn lolled his head to the side, "Enough to agree to this plan but no farther, and not without an escape route for my crew in mind."

Hooktusk scoffed affectionally, "Smart man, but what of the ships arriving at Hillsbrad then?" Word had arrived only recently that the coast still remained out of Drakkari hands, and she was not of a mind to be embarrassed by letting that slide with no comment.

Flynn rolled his shoulders, "Not much to be done about that, our sponsor kept what she could contained to Kul'Tiras an Daelans paranoia did the rest, but they have ships across the islands, so some were bound to be sent to foreign shores. Still, this may serve the cause in the end."

"It could," she answered, tapping her empty flask, "Could turn it into a bastion for resistance too, but the sail back should give us time." Lest treason was afoot, but that is what dragoons were for she felt.

It was risky as it ever was, but she'd known Flynn for a time and his reputation for longer, and if he took a contract, he stuck to it and never double dealt without being the first one cheated.

'We want this war done and if Kul'Tiras still stands, Hillsbrad and Arathi remain battlefields, but if I secure it, we can put a stop to the squabbling and bleeding here and now.' The fact it would be perhaps the greatest feather in her cap was a nice boon in of itself too.

'I was given command, might as well make use of it.'

Sucking in a breath she grinned, "I will agree, provided some subtle shifts."

"Oh, pray tell?" The captain asked, eyeing her warily.

"Your ship shall accompany ours before we set off, and I dictate the array of the Drakkari Forces, if this Ashvane thinks themself a better naval commander they may believe that, but they do not dictate when or how we attack."

"… I believe she will accept these terms, provided you, or we I suppose, attack on the allotted day, even her forces would not be able to claim the island alone. Can we arrive on time still?"

"Oh, don't you worry about that, we have our ways," she chuckled, patting her Gral blessed belt buckle.

Flynn nodded, eyes reflecting the golden shine of her blessed item as he held out a hand, "Shake on it then?"

"And drink to it later," She chuckled, clasping his arm.

---

Nazgrel could well understand why their native allies had sent agents to guide them through the mountainous crags. Winding stone walls, with shadowy drops, all branching in different directions. Even worse, they often grew cramped, the Drakkari in their number having to shuffle on their sides to slip through.

One could die in them.

But with a Harpy up above and their allies familiarity with the land and left over markers, they made good time.

Time that was spent informing them of the nature of the conflict between Frostwolf and the Valley Dwellers.

As they told it, with the defeat of the Amani in the Troll wars and the spread of humans across the lands. Many deemed the human empires enemy would find themselves retreating into the mountains; still ablaze and awash in arcane energies for centuries after the war, meaning so long as one avoided the core territories life could be good if not easy.

But as the magic faded and humans came more and more they would retract into the mountains and highest peaks. Eventually many would stumble on the hidden paths to the great Valley, beloved by the Spirits, its plants offered succor, its beasts food and the earth a great bounty.

For generations the four tribes would live in harmony, occasionally dueling for influence but always with restraint and purpose. In this safe seclusion they thrived, until one day, the Frostwolf clan arrived.

Having somehow sneaked passed Alterac's mountaineers or even managed a secret deal with one of their authorities, the clan found their way into the valley. Staking their claim in the North which had always been reserved for beasts to be hunted.

Negotiations had barely begun before breaking down, confusion, fear of discovery, all sides backs being to the wall as well as growing offence and a looming food crisis set them at odds.

One would think the Orcs easily outnumbered, but their Shaman, Drek'Thar called forth a great giant of stone and ice. A last line of defense for the valley dwellers turned against them and left to run amuck for weeks before it was lulled back into its tomb.

Their numbers greatly depleted and wary such a thing could happen again, the valley dwellers surrendered the North, but remained bitter for years to come.

Nazgrel wished he could say he was surprised by his mounting disappointment in the one remaining 'pure' clan of Orcs, but he was not.

He cast such thoughts from his mind as they finally returned to wide open space, and beheld the sights before them. A great, vast plane of snow that gave way into slopes and rising peaks that stretched North and South for miles. So high were those walls of stone, they pierced the clouds!

Gathered on one side of the clearing below it were the Orcs, great banners of blue and white, blowing amid tents of hide and cloth. They were stared down from the slopes of the mountains rise by their Valley Dwellers, their mixed camp of trolls, Harpy, Kobolds, Gnoll and a host of Wolver as well as some orange marked humans. All gathered around a great caves maw that could easily let three orcs walk side by side up into the valley.

The Drakkari aligned camp let out a great cheer upon their arrival that shook the mountains, snow spilling over the stone.

One could practically see the orc camp deflate as Nazgrel and his fellows made their way to the Valley Dwellers camp, their Harpy escort flying ahead to inform her mother of the ambush.

Nazgrel cast one final glance at the orcish camp, and then turned his attention to his fellow Drakkari.

---

NOTES:

At some point Xex'Mon got promoted to dad in the minds of Nazgrel and Burx and I am OK with that. Also all the Orc related content from this chapter is original as I had initially planned to just leave the matter hanging until the epilogue but people's interest left me feeling I should detail it. Plus it lets me spice some otherwise peaceful chapters up with a fight or two.

Beve knows Falconcrest wanted her dead but doesn't believe he had a hand in killing her dad, which, he might not have, or might have Also I had to edit this scene so they were outside, now that I have a better idea of what the Drakkari's sheer size means. Things are also in motion with Kul'Tiras as we can see, I enjoy writing Hooktusk XD

I decided to try and explain Alteracy Valley's backstory here but in an efficient manner to avoid drag; I also built it with the intent of explaining how the hell the Frostwolves could like there for like 30 years and not receive and support from the locals with the Drarves invaded. The only logical conclusion was they weren't good neighbors, though in this case it was more rooted in desperation than pure dickery.

 

[Zam]

The Torrents of War: Part 4 - Power Plays​

Galen circled Stromgarde on the map, "We could drive off the trolls and secure the city if we had more cannons, or perhaps if we could marshal a militia faster…"

Ariana scowled mightily, "If, if, wars are not won by what one wishes they had."

"Mind your tongue, you speak to your liege lord," Galen snapped.

"If I had known about the trolls, I might not have put you on the throne."

"If, if," he answered mockingly.

"Please," Valorcall intoned, "squabbling aids no one."

"Then do you have a solution for our woes?" Ariana asked, "For right now our best path is so dangerous I dare not suggest it, and even then we risk becoming little more than a city state."

Galen looked to his closest ally, fearful of what he saw in the man's face.

Leaning on the map table, Valorcall traced a finger from the city and cut a sharp path East, muttering, "if I were to take an elite strike force, I might be able to breach the enemy commanders' defenses."

"Valorcall," Galen tried to cut in, but the man pushed on.

"Cutting them down, their forces will be left without skilled leadership, their morale laid low and they will either draw in on themselves or launch a poorly structured counterattack that can be broken rather than merely driven off."

"And you die in the process," Galen stressed.

Valorcall's expression was somber as he nodded, "Most likely, but my riders are the most ideal for this, we are raiders at heart, not fit for defending a city."

"I do not want this victory to come at the cost of your life," Galen said, slapping the table.

"War always has a price," Ariana intoned, "Still, I fear the consequences if this failed, or if there are other able captains among them. A plan that relies so heavily on the enemy acting predictably is not one I like."

"War requires risks too," Valorcall countered.

Galen was grasping the tables edge, teeth grinding as he scoured the map, looking to hit upon some solution when the doors flung open.

"My liege, we…" The Defender stalled; thick parchment clutched in his hand.

"Out with it," Galen said, eyes tracing the scroll for a familiar symbol.

The red armored soldier nodded, a guttural huff escaping his lips before he said, "We have received word from the invaders in the North by messenger falcon."

All eyes turned to Galen even as the world around him faded and he was locked in a memory. A perfect recreation of his father snatching up a similar letter before it could even be read, barely looking at it before hurling it into the fire and swearing revenge for a fallen rival as Galen sat offside, helpless.

"My liege? What should we do with it?" The Defender asked.

Ariana glared at the map table, "Thoras likely burnt the last missive for a reason."

"He did not even read it," Valorcall countered.

Galen's fingers tightened on the edge of the table, ancient oak squeaking and straining as her nearly crushed it, mind awhirl, going over everything and anything he knew and finding it not enough and yet…

"Thoras is not king, I am, and the son is not the father," He held out his hand, "Give it to me and I shall see if they've anything worth reading."

Taking the scroll and breaking the seal, Galen steeled himself for the worst.

To you, the steward of Stromgarde,

Frost King Malakk, Conqueror of Storms, Protector of the People and Bringer of Justice sends his regards.

This one must extend gratitude to you, for word has reached my ears of your swift and decisive victory over your predecessor.

I imagine one does not wish to linger on it, but what comes next must be written.

Several years ago, I sent my beloved friend and Speaker to the Alliance Council. He was imprisoned, tortured, and executed, in part thanks to the vote of your predecessor.

It was for this injustice, among others committed by the Bronzebeard that this war is waged. I sent word to Stromgarde after Lordaeron surrendered, explaining the situation, and offering a chance to settle this honorably, between warriors.

Evidently this offer was refused when an army was marched into lands now under my protection; I trust our stern rebuff was communicative.

As of now I find we are at a crossroads of opportunity, for your nation and my empire. I would see this war end without further bloodshed and am willing to offer fair terms if we do meet, to which my other Royal Councilors can attest.

Signed,

Frost King Malakk,

Co-signed, Royal Councilors,

Lianne Menethil, Calia Menethil, Beve Perenolde, Alexi Barov, Illucia Barov & Jandice Barov​

Galen scanned the missive again, the thick paper crunching beneath his grasp as he looked over for any signs of rebellion amongst his fellow humans, mind racing to find a way out but seeing nothing, save walls closing in on him.

"My king?" Valorcall whispered.

'He wants Arathi, he wants me to surrender… Maybe… Maybe I can make this work?' He thought. Brief compliance, or even merely using the negotiations as a shield against the Witherbark and allowing his forces to secure the countryside?

'If I am lucky, I may even turn the tables on him,' Galen thought tapping his family blade.

Pushing away from the table, he said, "Bring me a scribe, I will meet with this barbarian king, provided he forces the Witherbark to stand down, granting us time to regain our footing and turn the tide."

"A risky plan," Ariane said, head nodding, "I will marshal your elite guard my king."

"I will be with you sire," Valorcall swore, kneeling before him and whispering, "To the end."

"To the end," Galen promised, pulling his companion to his feet.

"Now come, we must make ready."

"Yes, my king."

---

Malakk could practically see the snow melting even in the highlands, as he and his procession made their way across the rugged terrain on a roughly maintained stone roadway. The lands of Arathi certainly had a wild beauty to them, reminiscent of the Howling Fjord, he could see why the descendants of Northrend's humans made their home in such a place.

He had forgone riding his personal war mammoth for Moorabi's own, Mal'toa was small by their standards and well known for speed. He'd also been ponderous and lonesome since Moorabi's death, and until a new Prophet was chosen, bereft a partner.

Running a hand through the lumbering beasts' thick fur, he was drawn from his reverie by a spirited debate among his advisors. Most of whom accompanied him, now that the North had been pacified and their remaining rivals distracted.

"I dislike this, we hold the wall and yet push farther to treat with a family known for slaughtering our kin," Zol'Maz groused.

Gal'Darah was quick to defend, "We are merely exploring our options, Zol'Maz, the price we pay for complacency is steeper than this trifle."

Beve's perpetually playful voice was the next to rise. "My expertise on such politics may pale in comparison to your own, but Alterac agents report the Witherbark were the last tribe to join with Zul'jin's army."

Arctikus cut in with a snort, "They speak rightly, the Witherbark are a people I sympathize much with for their lost lands, but they are not well known for their love of their own kind."

"Is it safe to be meeting with them then?" Illucia intoned, having traded places tending to their daughter with her husband who remained at the palace.

Bith'Sa spoke up at the question, "You have nothing to fear, Royal Councilor. For even if the harsh words are true, violating guest rights is a deep sin among the tribes, they will at least speak with us and let us part safely."

"Please forgive our ignorance," Lianne said gently, "It is rather hard, given our known history, to wrap one's mind around that fact."

"Generations of war tend to erode one's sensibilities," Arctikkus muttered. "But there is no bad blood between the Witherbark and the Drakkari and they would be fools to violate guest rights to such a superior force."

"Maybe so," Zol'Maz said, "But that does not tend to the issue at hand."

"What is the issue at hand?" Malakk intoned gently, cutting through the scattered chatter.

His Warlord drew up, clearly considering his words, fingers coiled tightly on his raptors bridle as he spoke. "I understand the necessity of securing our new borders against dwarven incursion but see no reason not to wait until the battles here are fought."

"A fair concern," Malakk conceded, "We may indeed decide not to participate in this dispute when all is said and done. But if mediation is possible, I would seek to halt a massacre before it can begin." Already he had seen emptied towns and signs of slaughtered travelers, be it by bandits, raiders or beast the sight left his mind stirred and his heart melancholy.

"We cannot take responsibility for the entire world, Frost King Malakk," Arctukis said.

"Perhaps not, but we are merely feeling the situation out thus far, my friend." Malakk arched his brow at Zol'Maz and chuckled, "you had other concerns?"

The warlord shrugged, rippling muscles cloaked beneath black armor. "I do not care to consider aligning against our cousins, however unreliable some may see them, to especially not with our enemies."

"Thoradin is dead, I remind you," Lianne said gently.

"A Trollbane, is a Trollbane, I doubt their family earned such a title with false pretenses, they are enemies of our kind and should be fought, I am thinking."

"Is my enemy not vanquished when they become my companion?" Malakk said gamely, sending a wink in Zol'Mas's direction at the flash of recognition on the other troll's features.

Arctikus frowned, "Maybe so, but these humans have done nothing to earn your trust as our companions have and the Witherbark are still trolls."

Malakk glanced to Rageclaw who had remained silent and observant thus far, "And Wolvar are Wolvar Great Mother, but we live freely under Frost King Malakk's rule as though kin."

"There's also the ogres to consider," Kutube'sa added.

"A fair point, we don't know how they may influence the Witherbark, we may not be speaking with their chieftain at all," Beve said.

"Well yes," Kutube'sa said pulling a spy glass from his eye, "But I was also thinking of the ogre I see in the distance."

Malakk's focus turned back to the road and he called, "Be wary and ready but make no move lest struck, hear me!"

"We obey, Frost King Malakk!" His Legionaries chanted.

The rest of the march was made in silence, eyes locking onto the armed escort riding out to greet them. A trio of what Malakk knew must be Ogres, pale pink skin looking like rough parchment, with matching belts on rounded bodies, rippling with muscle and adorned with tattoos.

Accompanying them were Witherbark Shadow Hunters in leafy robes and Witherbark Axe Throwers in form fitting leathers. They were led by a troll on the back of an albino raptor, carrying a hefty spear and adorned in fine ritualistic armor and face paint. All save the Axe Throwers had the deep green hair commonly associated with the tribe, while the axe throwers were dyed a deep crimson red.

Th leader rode forward, accompanied by a stomping Ogre and a Caster, Malakk motioned for his guards to follow and the pair leapt from their mounts to join him as he rode forward.

"Hail, you are the Frost King then!?" Called the mounted rider.

"I am he, and to whom do I have the honor of speaking?" Malakk said, bringing Mal'toa to a stop, patting the beast as it rumbled at the sight of the hissing raptor.

Slapping his armor, the troll cheer, "I am Beastrider Kama, leading of the joint raiding parties; lieutenant to mistress Ojin'ba and the mighty Kor'gresh Coldrage who await you!"

"I am honored to be received by souls of such rank," Malakk answered politely, surprised at the fact he was not being greeted with a Speaker. 'Maybe they sent theirs to Zul'jin?' He wondered.

"As are we by you," the troll grinned. "We had some grand plans with our Boulderfist friends but could not act on them until Lordaeron was thrown into disarray. Now we stand poised to reclaim all of Arathi and then some!"

"I admire your enthusiasm," Malakk said, "Your leaders, are they the only one's present?"

The troll nodded, "They are, Kor'gresh is undisputed leader of the Ogres here, while among us our leadership is divided into three. Mai'jin tends to the spiritual needs of our people and resides at the capital while Ojin'ba leads our military and Zalas Witherbark is the heir to our ancient bloodlines, who casts the deciding vote in all matters, but he is presently in the Hinterlands."

"A fine and fair system," Malakk commended, 'They must be conferring with Zul'jin then.'

Kama smiled, nodding, even as he leaned on his mount to eye the slowing approaching convoy. "I see humans among your number, but they seem too well dressed to be gifts."

His guards scowled, while Malakk's expression remained placid, "We Drakkari treat no people, regardless of history, as gifts to be given for any reason."

Kama shrugged, "Twas a joke. Bring your new servants if you wish, a meeting tent has been set up not far from the hill where you can rest and speak, please, follow us!"

Malakk motioned his convoy onwards, the great beasts and carriages rumbling along the path as his soldiers marched in tight lockstep motions across the grassy fields. Meanwhile, the Witherbark raiders raced around in the distance and Ogres stomped across the planes crushing anything in their way.

The trip was not long, and the tent that awaited them was a pleasing sight. A sleek wooden framework held up a thick dark purple material and it was adorned with masks. Compared to the more rounded designs his speaker spoke of among the Amani, it seemed tall almost squared off structures were preferred among the Witherbark.

Malakk flung himself off Mal'toa, ensuring to check in with his advisors as most of them settled in at the heart of the convoy's carriages with their escorts.

"I will open the discourse and should I have need of you call for you, until then however I feel it best not to risk agitating our hosts," he said, not having missed the baleful glares from the Witherbark in particular.

They nodded obligingly, and leaving them with his guards, Malakk took Zol'Maz, Arctikus and Gal'Darah with him towards the tent.

Waiting for them at the oval entrance was a tall, lean troll woman with a green mohawk so dark it was nearly black and bright green skin. Her features were smooth and her tusks strong, her form adorned in shadowy robe with runic patterns.

At her side was a massive figure with mottled grey skin and dark brown robes lined with metal. They had two heads with broken horns, one with two eyes and the other with one, all three focused on him. It was rare Malakk met anyone of contemporary height to himself, but the Ogre was a fair match in height, and broader still.

'How novel,' he thought, amused at the meeting someone's eyes so easily.

"Welcome, Frost King Malakk, noble advisor and honored priest," Ojin'ba said, her sharp eyes not leaving his as she offered a polite bow, which he and his advisors mimicked.

All eyes flickered to the Ogre who merely nodded, one of its faces grinning when rather than press the issue, Malakk spoke, arms held out as if to embrace. "I thank you for agreeing to meet with me, wise Ojin'ba, and mighty Kor'gresh, shall we begin?"

"Of course," she said with a clap of her hands, and two guards pulled aside the tent flaps, "Let us discuss this away from prying eyes and curious ears."

After Malakk and Kor'gresh squeezed through, he was greeted by a humble oaken map table, as well as a smattering of scrolls and trinkets hanging from the frameworks, while woven cushions sat around the table awaiting them.

Motioning for them to take a seat, Ojin'ba and Kor'gresh sat on the other side of the table, the latter with a noticeable thump.

Brushing his robes back, Malakk crossed his legs and dropped down into a cross egged sit, Zol'Maz and Gal'Darah following, folding their legs beneath them as they sat at his side, ever so slightly back from him.

"If I may," Malakk began, only to be cut off.

"Why do you ask us to call off our attacks on the city and why should we?" Kor'gresh rumbled, his voice low and harsh, while Ojin'ba tensed, eyeing his reaction.

"Skipping past the pleasantries then? I can respect that." Tapping Thoradin's Wall on the map he said, "You already well know my forces have claimed this place, and of the indignities and horrors suffered by my subjects at the hands of Ironforge and the Alliance High Command."

"You want the first swing at the Trollbane family?" Ojin'ba said, her tone belying some offence that his crusade was of more importance.

"Quite the opposite in fact," Malakk murmured, "Thoradin is dead by his own son's hands, I've no investment in any feud here. No, my main concern is stemming Ironforge's influence and access to this land and her people." He tapped the Thandol Span, "I wish to see this location secured, and for people to stop fleeing and thus bolstering an enemy nations force."

Kor'gresh chuckled, "We handling that already, Nimar the Slayer is hunting down people and taking them in the West and my clan raids anyone who tries to go near the bridge." The Ogre licked his chops at that.

Malakk shrugged, "I'd not wish to disregard your forces skill, but unless I am misinformed, I am somewhat doubtful you can cover such a large land mass, especially when also occupying your homes in the Hinterlands and housing your main army here." He tapped on Stromgarde again, "It is my hope to find a tidier solution to this situation, one that doesn't necessitate more bloodshed."

Ojin'ba's brow kitted together suspiciously, "You either wish to collaborate with us… Or you want to turn the Stromgardians into vassal as you did the other humans."

Malakk smiled gently, "Galen seeks to engage with me in diplomacy, I would be a hypocrite if I refused, and such a discourse could well settle this matter I am thinking."

"Unacceptable," Ojin'ba said with a slash of her hand, the air pulsing with her power, "They are our enemies, they squat on our land, they all must die."

Zol'Maz glanced at him and Malakk nodded, letting his Warlord speak, the trolls voice deep and foreboding, "It won't just be soldiers you're killing, you think human babes are as guilty as their parents?"

Gal'Darah moved to speak and Malakk allowed him, the Grand Prophet saying, "While scales must be balanced such a slaughter would ultimately exhaust your forces as well leaving you vulnerable to Ironforge, or other rivals."

"Let us worry about our armies," Snapped Kor'gresh.

Ojin'ba folded her arms, "The Zandalari always said Drakkari were bold to the point of arrogance, but this is much even for the rumors I have heard. You would side with humans over your own kind just for more power?"

"Hardly," Malakk said gently, half eyeing Kor'gresh as he spoke. "My hope would be to resolve this long-standing hatred in a manner that sees justice done, balance restored and spares us all bloodshed."

He held up a hand as the pair made to speak and said, "But I would never cut a deal that harmed your noble selves. I merely wish to answer honor with honor; Galen wished for a meeting, and it is only right I grant it. If he cannot agree to a deal that benefits yourselves, I would simply tell him he must live and die with the consequences of his actions."

Arctikus was quick to join the fray, adding, "We will offer your forces aid in securing the Thandol Span in either case as well."

Ojin'ba was staring at them thoughtfully, not happily, the tension on her face showed she was biting back a violent scowl, but she was thinking. Kor'gresh meanwhile looked vexed and suitably cocky, not what Malakk had initially planned, but potentially helpful if things became more tense.

Ojin'bas spoke first, her tone sharp but controlled, her motions flowing. "I think this a dangerous endeavor, humans are known for treachery, and they will likely use this dialogue as a chance to move against us. You would be better served by aiding us right away, we would even let you take captured humans back to service your empire."

"I appreciate the sentiment and swear on my blood if the humans make a move against you, I will join my forces with yours and crush their armies, but not their peasantry. As to your offer," He gave Ojin'ba a considering glance, "I do not treat people as gifts and the Drakkari are not so weak as to need slaves."

Kor'gresh scoffed, "I say you lie," he leaned forward, "I say you want the human's cos you're greedy. I say you're weak."

Gal'Darah hissed, but Malakk just leaned back as if wary, "What makes you say that?"

Kor'gresh rose to his full impressive height, "You come to us simpering, no harsh words when I don't bow, no demands, just compliment and begging. You're weak, you know we won't obey you like the meek humans would, so you want them on your side, pathetic!"

Malakk gamely rose to his feet, subtly unbuttoning his robe with a swipe of his hand, "I am no such thing, I merely seek to end this without needless violence."

"Spoken like a true coward, I could break you like a twig!" Kor'gresh snapped.

"Don't, his empire-"

"Is stretched thin and led by a coward!"

Malakk smiled, "Care to prove it?"

Kor'gresh's one-eyed face looked stricken, perhaps realizing the trap, but his dual eyes face turned into a snarl, ignoring its partner who muttered, "Kor!"

Gresh drew his side of the body back and struck a mighty blow!

Malakk felt the Ogre's fist crash against his palm and enclosed it in his grasp, a sharp hiss keeping his lieutenants back as he met Kor'gresh's wide eyed stare.

"You have some power there," Malakk commended.

Fangs flaring, the Ogre tried to yank back his hand but Malakk held firm pressing down and making the bones within creak.

"There is no need for violence!" Ojin'ba said, but her words fell on deaf ears as cold magic whirled in Kor'gresh's free hand and the Ogre barreled forward.

Malakk dug his feet into the floor, muscles swelling, pressing against his robes as he forced Kor'gresh's captured arm back and met the freezing blow with sharp downward strike, sending the burst of cold towards him.

Before it could even touch his feet however, he pounced!

Snatching the twin heads in his grasp, Malakk twisted himself around the Ogrem nearly crushing their snarling visages and using them as leverage to swing back. Dual leg strikes landed against the back of Kor'gresh's and the Ogre let out a muffled yowl as they slammed into the ground.

He yanked the Ogre's head back painfully far, Kor'gresh's arms were floundering as they tried to call on magic or even just strike Malakk. But any time they came close, Malakk pulled their heads further back and apart, the bones within screaming in protest.

"Wait, we need him!" Ojin'ba called, the magic on her hands freezing as his own followers leveled spell and steel in her direction.

"This is not a murder, it is a lesson," Malakk said, his jovial tone undercut with a near snarl.

Kor'gresh growled, trying to speak, ice coiling in their grasp.

As an answer, Malakk leaned forward, stabbing his tusks into the Ogres back, the sharp strike on his spine making the ice flicker and shatter.

Pulling back, Malakk kept his tone ever so level as he squeezed his foes skull. "Such tiny heads, so brittle in my grasp, I could crumble the bone and squish your brain beneath my fingers with a thought."

He leaned forward, whispering, "I won't, even though you struck me; because I am kinder than that, wiser than that."

Another spell flickered even as Ojin'Ba hissed at the Ogre to stop. Malakk just chuckled, driving a knee into the ogres back, forcing the focus from their mind and leaving the mages arms spasming from the blow to the spine.

"You see how easy it is to disrupt your spells and make that strength you're so proud of come to naught? That is why I do not feel the need to start some stupid little pissing contest and throwing hands with every fool that challenges my pride," he leaned in and hissed. "Because I know I am better."

"Wss, jsrt, tst," Kor'gresh whined through muffled maws.

"Lessons. Not. Over," Malakk hissed, ice billowing from his maw and sending a chill across the Ogres necks.

"I welcomed your strike against me that you might vindicate mine against you. I broke your guard and went for the most…" He leaned downed, pressing his fangs to the back of the Ogres heart and lungs "Vital points. Because my wars are not against commoners and children, but kings and generals."

Pushing Kor'gresh's heads to look at the map he said, "When I go to war, when one coaxes me to strike, I am quick," He tightened his grip, "I am deadly," He pushed the Ogre further into the ground, "And I do not waste my time with whomever you may use as a shield, Kor'gresh. Remember that if you think to challenge me again, because I allow mercy but once and never twice."

He glanced at Ojin'Ba, "If I had wished it, if I had feared them, I could have marched on Lordaeron's capital in the first week and reduced it to a blasted hearth. I did not though; because I am not so afraid of my foes that I must race to crush them at a moment's notice. Disavowing all honor and decency that separate me from them, that distinguish the honorable and brave from mere thugs and killers."

Pressing his tusks into the ogres back he drew his head up leaving shallow, sharp scratches before whispering. "I could have ended this on a whim if I cared not for honor or the lives my cousins and kin. I could have left this madness to play out if I was afraid, but I came to you openly because I at least, am not afraid."

Seeing the Ogres skin beginning to change color, Malakk released him, Kor'gresh hands slamming into the floor as they spluttered and spat, nearly retching as he strode by them.

"Heal his wounds, all save the scratches on his back," he threw a glance back at the shaken Ogre, "Let them remember what fear felt like the next time they try and instill it in another."

Gal'Darah's hands flickered and Kor'gresh's eyes widened as the bruised faded and relief flashed across their visage as they rose to their feet, shuffling back a step and glancing to Onij'ba.

Sliding forward and between them, the troll woman said, "My apologies for my companion's rudeness, he is not familiar with our ways."

"We all must learn manner some time I suppose," Malakk said with a chuckle. "I will be meeting with Galen, your forces I hope will turn their attention South or inward for the next twenty for hours that we might talk in peace."

"Given the disruptions to this meeting I will not contest this," she bit back a sigh and asked, "Our lands."

"Will be safe," Malakk assured, "I swear on my honor your homes will be safe."

Ojin'ba nodded, whispering fiercely, "Twenty-Four Hours."

"Indeed," Malakk pushed aside the tarp and strode into camp with a smile on his lips and a song in his heart.

---

Ojin'ba watched the Drakkari procession leave, her disappointed soldiers packing up their equipment as they made ready to fall back a ways.

"Not as simple as you thought it would be, was it?" She snapped at Kor'gresh.

The Ogre glowered down at her, briefly patting their shoulders where the scars ended. "Had to see if he had resolve. This is bad for us?"

She shrugged, "It depends how their talks go." She scowled, "He was right about one thing however, even if we can defeat the humans without interference… The Wildhammer and the Ironforge would overwhelm us."

"Thinking about that Warlords offer?" Kor'gresh asked.

"Maybe," she said tightly, memories of the ash and fire, a humiliating retreat filling her mind, "But maybe not. Zul'jin led us astray once, but it is best to keep that door open, should he hold his conquests this time."

Kor'gresh grunted, "Only said we'd stop hovering round the capital, right?"

"Indeed, other settlements should still be fair game," she said blandly.

The ogre heads nodded, "Good, we need a meal."

Ojin'ba repressed a sigh and followed.

---

Galen wanted to curse; the trolls had moved faster than he'd ever anticipated.

Already his scouts reported the war camp in the hills to be packing up and blue skinned trolls on dragon & bat flittered along the roads, as the procession moved to the Circle of Inner Binding just outside the capital!

'I'll never be able to launch a surprise attack at this rate, the Circle is too far and too open for snipers or cannon fire to rain down without them being seen before they're in range!'

The situation was obvious, if he were to try and strike against the Witherbark, the Drakkari would know he had been betrayed the terms of their meeting. If he moved to strike at the troll king his entourage would get word before Galen's forces could arrive. Then it would turn into a nearly even duel, just long enough for the Witherbark to come roaring back.

'A duel where they decided the location,' he thought bitterly.

The Circles may have been a part of Stromgarde's history, but longstanding superstition and reports of giant attacks kept people away from studying the damned monuments and few saw worth in old stones to begin with, meaning he could not even use them to his own advantage!

"My liege?" Valorcall intoned.

Galen bit back a sigh, "Have my sword disguised, should things turn sour I want an ace up my sleeves."

"We are negotiating then?"

"It would seem so."

---

NOTES:
Post revolutionary governments are always so tense XD But yeah, Galen's not having a good time as I decided to lean on what other events from canon, IE the Witherbark and Crushbridge assault. In this timeline the lack of demons running around and no Syndicate let Stromgarde hold but that's all they're doing right now. Also I am glad I leaned in on Valorcall being someone even Forsaken Galen cared about, I enjoy their dynamic.

I feel bad for not introducing Mal'toa sooner. Also in many ways this feels like a job for a Speaker, but he's busy elsewhere and also I wanted the cast to have something to do, I worry it feels a touch forced though. Also I tried to inject a bit of intensity into this chapter with the conflict to keep things from being too chatty

As to the Witherbark characterization, I based it on the fact they were the last to join Zul'jin in Tides of Darkness, joining only when victory seemed certain and on Travelogue where they seemed to be among the first to bail. The rest is conjecture based on their various high ranking figures all described as leaders and surrounding plots.

I tied to hint that Kor'gresh's minds are not totally insync as Ogres are fascinating like that and if anyone's noticed Malakk seems weirdly invested in settling this peacefully and is somewhat off kilter to people he'd normally be aligning with, even by his own standards... Yeah that's intentional.

 

[Zam]

The Torrents of War: Part 5 - Clearing the Board​

The heart of the Valley Dwellers camp lay at its center, in the maw of the great cave that would carry any who travelled it towards the hidden peaks. Around it one could see tents of hide and feather, wood and thatched roof; despite long standing rivalries, all walked, scurried and flew across the great camp to the cooking pits and blazing fires to eat and converse.

One could hear weapons being sharpened as Shaman and Priest chanted, while at the edge of the camp were great curved barricades made from stacked bags, stuffed with some strange powders. Laid alongside them were stones and raised wall of ice, along with three black iron cannons of Drakkari make and overseen by Wolvar.

Nazgrel was somewhat out of sorts among the Valley Dwellers. They were fine enough hosts to be sure, and his Drakkari escort ensured he had no reason to fear tempers flaring.

But this was also the first time he had been left bereft of his Chieftain.

Xex'Mon and Burx had taken bats back to the Legions, and once rallied they would encompass the Frostwolves and their allies from the West, ensuring a final victory.

Thus, he left Nazgrel behind, "In case the clan wished to barter, you young Warchief must act as the empires representative."

It was a respectable position; one he was proud to bear. But as he meandered through vague strategic discussions and territorial trading over meals amid the hustle and bustle of the war camp, he couldn't help but feel he was lacking in some way. Especially compared to his refined and composed hosts who spoke in double meanings and layered words, bedecked in fine clothes that they hadn't needed gifted tot hem from the Drakkari.

Nazgrel was drawn from his musing and the peppering questions of the Wolvar Speaker when a white plumed Harpy flew into the cavern and folders her wings over her chest.

"Honored Mother, I come to you with words."

"Then speaking, mine dear daughter, so all of us nay hear them."

The Harpy bobbed her head, jewels glinting in the smokeless fire light. "A flagbearer of Drek'Thar's comes to us with a Speaking Stone, wishing to treat."

The Gnoll snorted, or maybe growled, "For years they ignore our traditions, years, now this insult!"

The gargantuan, orange skinned troll leaning against the cavern wall arched his brow, "To who did this Speaker wish to talk?"

The harpy's feathers fluffed up in what looked to anger, "He came unto us with two messages. The first, a request through the stone to be allowed to pass and return to the valley in peace and the other." Her white eyes drifted to Nazgrel. "To speak with him, if that would be disallowed."

All eyes were now on Nazgrel and he repressed the urge to swallow his nerves and instead spoke as he often heard Xex'Mon speak.

"I would not think to treat with a rival of our empires people when not on lands given to us by our Huay Drakanni, Malakk and so I give the floor to you, my noble allies."

There were several noises he could not place, but they seemed to be grinning among themselves and Nazgrel did not think it tinged with mockery.

Finally, the Kobold Speaker, said, "You speak well, Warchief of the Drakkari Orcs."

"I concur," intoned the troll, "But as we cannot grant Drek'Thar's request I am thinking…"

There was a silent exchange before the Harpy spoke, "We shall send you with an escort to treat with him, they shall guard you and tell you anything you wish to know."

Nazgrel stood to his full height and offered a respectful salute, "I shall not disappoint you, noble allies."

---

Nazgrel marched alongside his escort across the snowy fields, the crunch beneath their steps not loud enough to drown out the approaching orcs and his own guards.

Drek'Thar was an ancient looking figure and yet unbowed by age, with a long grey beard, and dark black cloak, draped over a still sturdy frame and robe of white and dyed wool. His eyes were marked by a strip of black cloth and at his back were two great wolves, as well as two orcs, each bearing a great blade upon their backs.

One of his guards snorted, "Did you have no orcs-"

"Quiet, Captain Galvangar," Snapped Drek'Thar, driving a wooden cane he hardly seemed to need into the ground, he made to speak, but Nazgrel had no patience.

"I am of the Drakkari Empire, I am here speaking to you only as a courtesy and on behalf of my ally's native to this land. If you cannot stomach that reality, then we have nothing to discuss."

The bald orc reared back, looking offended, while Drek'Thar's blank stared never quite erred from Nazgre's own. "You speak with more confidence now, I suppose the victory did you well, for all it cos your people."

"It cost 'my people' little, if you called me to here to reproach me then you are wasting both our time, Shaman."

The guard snarled, "That's no way to speak to an Elder!"

"Elder to who? I know him not from any other Orcs old or young, he has not taught me, not offered me mercy or guidance, he is nothing more than a stranger who cannot control his followers."

There was a subtle jeer echoing from behind him and the captain reached for his blade only to still at Drek'Thar's stare, and the warrior murmured, "Forgive me, Elder, I spoke out of turn."

Drek'Thar's attention returned to Nazgrel, as if to say 'See, I can control him', but Nazgrel merely folded his arms and said, "You and yours left the valley to join hands with the Horde, who made themselves enemies of the Drakkari. You have no claim to these lands any longer."

Drek'Thar did not rise to the bait, "Your words make me sad, warrior. I know that those of us who were banished and consigned to the backwoods by the Alliances strength could not be called your saviors, but we are still kin."

"You and yours had a funny way of showing that."

"I counselled against such a stern stance, and whatever else, the matter is resolved now," Drek'Thar sighed. "We merely wish to return to the valley that has been so good to us for many years. Maybe, in time, we can become friends and we can share with those among you the fading ways of our people, the clans, the ancestors and more."

"You need not return to the valley for that," Nazgrel intoned more gently. "The Drakkari are willing to accept you into the empire and have readied fine lands for us in the North, it should suit you Frostwolves."

"As subjects, not as free Orcs," Drek'Thar countered, "I see their gods touch in your healed hand, we Orcs did not have gods such as the Trolls, they are not of us."

"Nor are you of me and mine," Nazgrel countered, "The Loa blessed me for my service to the empire to which I have sworn my loyalty. I was free to not do so, and I remain free to chart my own course, more free I think, than I would be under a Warchief."

"You and your kind of the camps are free to choose your fate if you so wish it, but we wish to choose our own as well, rather than be dictated to by our neighbors or your new ruler."

"Right now, elder, you have but three choices," Nazgrel turned his gaze South, "To leave the lands of the Drakkari Empire in peace." He turned ha gaze back to the elder, "To fight us here and die," Then he held out his hand, "Or to join hands with us, become a part of the Drakkari Empire & travel North towards a new home."

Drek'Thar's shoulders sagged, his voice like dust, "that hardly seems a fair-minded offer, we-"

"My mother died in the camps," he stepped forward and ignored the growling of Drek'Thar's guards. "I held her body in my weak little arms and I cursed the unfairness of it all; but it changed nothing. Only when the Drakkari came for us did things change, only then did fairness even become a possibility."

He leveled an accusing digit, "You and your clan, you and your Horde have had chance after chance, opportunity after possibility and you have squandered them all. You did not need to refuse the kinship of your neighbors, you did not need to reject us, you did not need to fight us."

"They!-" One of the guards began to shout.

Nazgrel's foot slammed against the snow, and he roared, "Hear me you fools! It no longer matters what you say, it will not change where we stand!" His gaze locked to Drek'Thar's, "Make the decision elder. Decide now whether you wish your clan and our people's culture to live on only in accursed memory or if you will accept this bargain and save your followers, damn your pride."

---

Don Adams leaned on his freshly varnished desk before Lady Ashvane. The towering woman was staring down at him imperiously and making his Lil'Friend skulk behind his shoulder, paws digging into his shirt.

Rolling a gold coin in his fingers, he said, "I had to call in a lot of debts, chits and favors to make this work."

Huffing she answered, "I was told you called in all of them, Adams, it would be a shame if penny pinching cost you your reward."

"Don, Adams," he stressed, voice growing rough, "and don't forget where you are, milady, Boralus is mine in fact if not in name. So long as your Privateers and peg legged pets do their job, my crew will do mine."

"No need to fret, Don," she said, tone laced with contempt. "I have sent someone reliable to convene with our reinforcements, and the rest await their time off the coasts and within Proudmoore Barracks.

That brought a smile to Don Adam's face, "I would love to see the look on Chief Jailor Smithson's face when he sees what is to come, but ah, I imagine he'll be well gone by then."

"I will save you his skull if it pleases you," she said dismissively, gaze slipping out the window to look towards Proudmoore Keep. "You are sure this mob you're stirring up cannot go to the Keep?"

"For the last time, yes! You may hate those wretches' guts and this embargo is causing no end of pain for us street dwellers, but even the average skulker doesn't loathe the Proudmoore's as they should. And unlike you, the families too even tempered to slaughter their own citizens for being unruly." Ashvane scoffed at that, making him smirk, "Well, so long as none are stupid enough to challenge them to a duel- urk"

She yanked him from the table, his legs dangled in the air, guards on both sides drawing guns and steel, only for Ashvane to freeze as his furry friend scarped over his shoulder and held a dagger near her eye. Scowling she spat, "Never, insult my husband again," before pushing him back to the table.

Slapping his Knee, Don Adams rolled his shoulders, patting his little companion as he said, "If you like, but the point stands. The poor and the crooked may not love them but they don't hate them enough to risk a mob at their doorstep, but the Barracks, the damned Jailor, right in town with plenty of alleyways to scarper down?" He threw back his head in a laugh, "I had people lining up to cause trouble there, and with my Underbosses and Enforcers keeping-em safe and motivated they'll make the noise you need, and then the real show can begin."

"I look forward to that, this was quite an investment on my part as well you understand," she said, already turning to leave.

"Yes, the oil will come in well handy I assure you, have a safe trip now. Wouldn't want our queen to topple off her throne before she's even sat upon it," He chuckled.

Ashvane glanced over her shoulder, gaze cold and hard, "I am not the one who should be wary, commoner."

Rolling his eyes, he waved, "Escort her out the secret way."

"Yes Don," His guards answered briskly, following the noble woman as she snapped about knowing the way.

Lil'Friend scarpered back up on his shoulder, "This smart?"

"Too late to back out now, besides," He pushed himself off the table and strode to the window, looking down at the crowded streets below. "I've got a chance to go higher than any loan shark ever has, I'd be a fool not to take it."

His pet nodded, looking to the sea longingly.

---

The streets of Drustvar were subdued and tense, rain battering down on any unfortunate enough to be stuck outside working. The foul weather did little to dampen the mood of one Roland the Knife, whose leather sneaking suits, and loose jacket repelled the rain as he slipped across roof and through alleyways, his chosen second trailing just behind.

"What's wrong chum, I would have thought you'd like to be working again; knock the rust off and all that," he said.

Samson shrugged, "Got hurt in weather like this last time, I always take it as an ill omen like the job isn't worth the risk."

"Superstition is good in small doses son, but not when it gets in the way of the action," Roland chuckled as they slipped around a pair of garrison guards, edging closer to the barracks itself.

Samson the Feather slid up to his side as they pressed against the slick wet brick, shadows nearly engulfing them as they lay in wait. "Maybe I just dislike the job then, not good business I think."

Roland clapped him on the back, "Money is money, and the Red Hand never refuses a job, we must be professional about this you see."

"That's for killing old widows and what's it," Samson argued, "This is betraying humanity."

The next rotation passed by unaware of their presence and Roland pointed upwards. Samson nodded, each drawing their climbing claws and burying their bladed boot tips into the wall they began to scale swiftly.

"Way I see it is we're just doing a job, humanity will sort itself out, we aren't exactly divine you know," Roland said amicably.

"Still, we didn't care for this when Alterac pulled a similar trick," the younger assassin argued.

"The orcs wanted us all dead I hear, Lordaeron just has a new king and a few less soldiers," Roland said.

They pressed themselves to the walls as a pair of guards strode passed a nearby window, only pushing forward once sure they passed.

"Yes, but it's a troll king, bloody despicable that is, I might be an assassin Roland, but I don't like this kind of treason," Samson said.

"Is it treason when one of Kul'Tiras's own hired us, or just cutthroat politics?" Roland tittered.

"Semantics," Samson groused.

"You could have stayed home, I need little help with this," Roland sighed.

"You said captain Blackwood is meant to be a fierce fighter and I've my duty to be here," Samson said urgently.

Roland hummed, "I did, but really I just wanted a signal," He saw the younger man's quizzical look turning to fright as Roland ripped one foot from the wall and drove it into Samson's side. With a gagged cry of pain, the younger assassin lurched off the wall hands scrabbling for a hold on slick stone as he fell to his death with a cry so suddenly silenced by a distant snap.

Hearing guards racing to act and word spreading, Roland sped up the wall thrice as fast. Before one could even see his silhouette on the stone, he was over the balcony's ledge and well hidden from those below.

He leaned against the stone, forcing air into his lungs, and was pleased by the sound of the door opening with a click, revealing a dark-haired man with broad shoulders and square jaw, who nodded. "I've heard a body hit the pavement, you Samson then?"

Roland rose to his feet and tipped his hat, "I am sir."

Blackwood left the door open for him and strode into his office, Roland following close behind.

"I don't like assassins, Samson, but it was a brave thing you've done, turning on your cabal for the greater good of humanity." The man snatched up some papers from his desk and waved them, "I am confident you will find yourself cleared of any crimes, once you tell us the Red Hands hide away and who hired you."

Roland grinned behind his mask, "Thank you sir, that's all I needed to hear," and he drove a dagger right through Captain Blackwood's throat and up into his brain.

As the light in his eyes dimmed, Roland snatched the papers from the man's hands, lowering him to the ground. "Sorry old chap, turns out Samson was right to fear we'd been tracking his messages, but that's just business in our line of work."

Captain Blackwood hit the floor with a gentle thud, no louder than a foot fall, and Roland tucked the papers away into a waterproof satchel on his hips before unslinging a weighty, water sealed box that had been banging against his hip all night.

Flicking it open, the assassin took up one of the captains reading candles and dabbed it against the fuse, the sudden burst of sparkling, burning light glinting beautifully in his eyes. Pulling himself away from the sight, Roland counted off the seconds.

One two three four, he locked the door.

Five, six, seven eight, he heard guards knock in haste.

Nine, ten eleven twelve, he loosed a grappling hook across the swell.

Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen sixteen, he swung away and won the day as the bomb burnt his problems away.

---

A hand clapped against his back, and Nazgrel was drawn from his musing atop a large, outcropping stone by the arrival of his Chieftain.

"A prayer for your thoughts, my young friend?"

Nazgrel turned his gaze back to the lands below. Sullen Frostwolves and their remaining allies were collecting the last of their possessions brought out from the valley. The war camps had not yet dispersed, but with the arrival of Burx and his Legion, alongside a Trollish Legion and a host of Batriders the tension had faded from the air. There would be no battle today.

"They do not seem happy, which I expected, but still, it worries me."

Xex'Mon's tongue clicked in thought, "Yes, this one thinks it must be irksome for such a proud people to be moved. Still, this was not a land long known to most among them, and if it helps, I think you will find the Fjord more to your liking."

Nazgrel turned back, his brow arched at what was not said, making the troll chuckle and drop down at his side, legs dangling over the edge and still taller than Nazgrel.

"You worry, this is good, especially given your position; but do not let it consume you. This Drek'Thar seems a moderate sort and they will not be in a better position to cause mischief North than they would anywhere else."

Mist escaped his maw, and Nazgrel continued to watch the Frostwolves, muttering, "It was his generation that led us to this place, is it not a danger they will do so again?"

"It is a good thing then that they are not the leaders of the Orcish-Drakkari." Xex'Mon's grin softened and he patted Nazgrel's back, "You have done the right and honorable thing this day, Nazgrel. You respected our allies, spoke wisely, decisively and resolved a battle that needn't be fought."

He wanted to speak but Xex'Mon continued, "Yes, there are elders and the the former leaders, who will have their own games and their own goals. They will tell you things this one is sure, and some of those things may be bad, but others may well be good." The troll was beaming, "Take the good, leave the bad, and forge your own path Nazgrel. You have greatness in you, I have seen it, you have shown it and we will be there all the while to help along the way."

He was smiling, relief dancing in his heart and yet he still asked, like a child, "So you will be there, Chieftain?"

"I'm not going anywhere for some time Nazgrel, count on that."

---

Galen felt his gut clench at the farcical nature of it all.

Stromgarde still in sight and his escort at his back did not diminish the fact he was in a position of weakness. Did not change that he was going to negotiate with a troll for the fate of his kingdom!

The Circle of Inner Binding was in sight and the troll was waiting in the nearby field, he and his retinue already comfortably seated in elegant wicker chairs with a matching set sitting across from them, still empty.

"Does he expect us to have a picnic?" Valorcall muttered.

"Perhaps a game of backgammon too?" Galen said, briefly considering ordering a charge but stopping himself. The gargantuan mounts the trolls had brought still stood at attention, as did the soldiers.

'If they breached Dalaran and Lordaeron they surely know their way around defensive spells too,' he thought, tugging on his horse's reigns, and guiding it down the gentle slope.

The gargantuan beast of a troll rose from his stone throne, "I Frost King Malakk welcome you to this meeting, Steward-King Galen Trollbane of Stromgarde." His voice was tinged with something like cocky humor in Galen's mind.

Letting Valorcall helping him from his horse, Galen answered, "Welcome to my kingdom, shall we get this meeting under way?"

The troll rolled his robed shoulders, "I am in no hurry," the troll answered striding halfway across the field and offering his hand.

Biting down his offence, Galen marched forward, Valorcall at his back and he took in the troll's entourage. As expected, there was a number of trolls and some other creatures, likely a servant caste, but what mattered more to him was the human presence.

He did not recognize all of the gentry in the troll's company, but he knew Beve from his younger years when there had been negotiations between their fathers, and one could not forget the sight of Lianne Menethil, let alone her daughter. They were lovely, poised and if nothing else looked better than he might have imagined given their captors.

'Is he parading them around as trophies, war brides, or maybe mere secretaries?' Galen wondered, as he awkwardly clasped hands with the troll, his own arm engulfed ever so briefly in a strangely gentle motion while his fingers could not even halfway encircle the troll's arms.

"We should begin," Galen said stiffly as they parted.

"You are pressed for time I take it?" The troll asked, orange eyes meeting Galen's brown.

Motioning to the East he said, "I do not trust the… Witherbark or their Ogres not to violate our agreement."

The troll tisked, "Such a shame to be on poor terms with one's neighbors, but far from unheard of." He glanced over his shoulder and added, "If you wish to skip the pleasantries we may. Though I insist we at least get introductions out of the way, you may know my Royal Councilors, but what of my Grand Prophet? And while I have been informed by my allies of your noble's council, I'd not wish to presume anything given all that transpired recently."

'Councilors…' He rolled the word over in his head, as he nodded, "I suppose it behooves one to know with whom they are speaking."

The troll grinned, and said, "I must extend my thanks."

Galen could tell he did not speak of the meeting, but still said, "It is nothing."

"Not of this, or of that," The troll said gamely. "I speak of your recent actions; it must have been hard, King Galen, but if done for the sake of the kingdoms people it be applauded. What is more, you have spared me the need to march my armies South, it is for this and a desire to end meaningless deaths that I have chosen to meet with you."

"And may I ask how far this gratitude extends?" Galen asked, tersely.

"It has gotten us this far," The troll hummed, "But come let us make with the introductions, that we might move on."

Galen nodded, the taste of copped flooding his mouth, hand twitching for Trol'Akar ever so briefly at how easily the troll had taken command of the meeting.

'I have to find a way to turn this around!'

---

NOTES:

All the Nazgrel stuff is new content, I originally barely covered anything after Ogrim's defeat which feels silly in hindsight. ALso thanks to Ebanu8 for the suggestion of Malakk's imperial title, still fiddling with it and some other options for the long term but I love how this one reads.

So, Ashvane is awful, but I do try to make clear she's got some human feelings in there and also I enjoy playing up her height and strength for funsies, especially compared to Don Adams who radiates small man energy to me. Also Lil' Friend makes me sad. Alsop yes, I did decide to use Kul'Tiras's seemingly much more expansive and organize criminal element for this as for Roland... Him coming off like Batman was very accidental but then I leaned into it.

Also figuring out how to pace the current chapters is super hard cos its all sort of lining up timeline wise but not quite and I need them to interplay and it was all sort of written in a stream of consciousness so its kind of like one tends of thousands of words chapter that I am now dividing up.

Also the return of dad'mon to cap off the Orcs segment cos I needed that and Nazgrel deserved a paternal pep talk. Also yes that was a Treasure Planet reference.

And we cap off back in Stromgarde, not much to say here sadly, but I hope it was engaging and felt believable.

 

[Zam]

The Torrent's of War: Part 6 - King Me​

Calia had never before visited Arathi, though she had grown up hearing tales of its bawdy men and wild women. Looking across the crowd she would have struggled to differentiate them from Lordaeron's court, save that beards were apparently quite unpopular here.

She stood bedecked in a gold lined, pale white and blue dress that cut off to allow for comfortable riding pants, all of which was hidden beneath a furry cloak. All 'gifts' from the Drakkari and done in a blend of their and Lordaeron styles.

She was just a step behind her mother, who was herself only half a step behind Malakk. Position and presentation being premier for princesses to learn and Calia understood the importance of even their simple stances. Still, as but a princess, it was her duty to quietly observe and politely interact, and so she did. Exchanging tense greetings as seating arrangements were organized and scribes took notes.

'I was hoping after so long riding we might have the chance to stand, but I suppose it will just have to wait,' she thought. 'I understand Arthas's complaints about riding cross country better now…' Her heart clenched but though her gaze may have wavered for a moment, she did not crack. Taking in a deep, cool breath of crisp air and focusing herself again.

'A subtle presence, the eyes and ears of a queen are an invaluable resources to their king,' she had so often been told and it was a lesson she had learnt well. Too well in some people's minds as it made her a dab hand at slipping away unnoticed from functions, but this was neither the time nor place.

In truth there was not yet much to observe, the Stromgardians were uniformly grim and clipped in tone which was relatively typical from her experience. However their weighted stares and the lines of tension in their tones were new. Barring the now ennobled head of a Sniper Company, she knew the names of the nobles present and what to expect from them.

'Or one would think,' she thought bitterly, looking to Galen Trollbane with a festering, ugly sort of resentment. 'King Thoras may not have been like an uncle as Uther was, but he was a noble man who came to save us. If you were more patient and braver you might have even had my hand.'

That thought was admittedly an unpleasant one. Even before his treasons she had not been fond of Galen, though she had not hated him. He had simply always bore an undercurrent of bitterness to him that left him contentious and cold. All of which had been inflamed by the loss of Danath with the expedition, leaving a part of her wondering who really raised the man before them.

'Not that it matters now,' she thought with a sigh as the parties broke and strode to their seats.

"They're backed into a corner," Barov muttered contemptuously.

"And cornered foes fight hardest," Zol'Maz whispered.

"If all goes as planned, they shall be freed from those walls and have no need to fight, yes?" Calia said.

Malakk chuckled, "Well said, let us liberate them of their woes."

Taking their seats, the deliberations began.

---

Hooktusk, her subordinate captains, allies and Flynn filled her spacious and brightly lit war room atop the deck of Malakk's Might. An incredibly detailed model of their target hewn from enchanted stone rising from the floor between they and their cushioned mats.

Flynn's casual tones filled the room as he motioned at Stormsong Valley, "The reinforcements for Hillsbrad will have come from here. With that in mind, the main body of Kul'Tiras's fleet will most certainly still be housed at Boralus, along with their forces."

"None on this Drustvar then?" A Drakkari captain asked.

Hooktusk chuckled, "It's a mountainous region, they have some small docks and patrols, but they are not the main focus."

Krag'Jin's forest bride, Seraphine of Winter, was quick to cut in, "The Covens of this land are great and varied, they shall not surrender their land meekly."

Hooktusk swallowed her surprise and said, "Fortunately then, you are among us and can counter them, or even negotiate with them. Still, for now our goal is the coastline first and foremost."

Krag'Jin shared a glance with his Witch before looking to Flynn, "You said your allies would deal with the fleet?"

"They will strike at the harbor and enter the foray earliest, yes. But they will be expecting reinforcement and of course, some Tirasi will be out on patrol; so not every ship shall fall despite us wanting otherwise," he said with an awkward chuckle.

Hooktusk waved him off, "No plan survives contact with the enemy. What's more, with the other pirate crews slated to attack and riots in the streets, the sabotage is only part of our plan."

"Lots of moving parts," Her former first mate frowned, the half goblin rocking back in their cushion as they spoke.

"Maybe so," Hooktusk conceded, "But none are dependent on each other. So long as not everything fails, we should be able to win this; or at least keep Kul'Tiras out of the war for a time and fight-em on an even playing field."

The discussion was sundered by a ringing of a gong outside.

Shooting to her feet, Hooktusk leapt across the map, shoving aside captains and bursting from the doors. She skidded out onto the deck to see her lookouts in their fort like crow's nest looking down at her.

"Captain, we won't be needing the forward scouts!" Biki, shouted, enchanted spy-scope humming at their side.

"And why do you say that!?" She called back.

The troll gulped, "Smoke Navarch, the skies of Kul'Tiras are choked with it, we cannot see the fleet yet, but we know fires must be thriving!"

Hooktusk's gaze shot to Flynn who muttered, "The docks being alight shouldn't cause such smoke."

"Your captain friends then?" She asked, "Harlane, Eudora, Jolly and Raoul are a rough bunch."

Flynn's jaw tensed, "Maybe, but I doubt they'd be so brazen to launch the assault before we were in sight."

"Well clearly something has happened," Her fangs slapped together in a hiss. "Dammit it all, if this turns into another bloody massacre, Malakk will have our heads." Her hand shot high, "Drakkari, your Navarch commands this! Full Speed Ahead!"

Chants and shouts answered her call, and she barked to her captains. "Back to your ships all of you, fall in behind mine. We'll cut through anything in our way, this is our moment to shine sea dogs, don't let me down!"

"Hail Navarch!"

Hooktusk heard them go, her gaze locked onto the horizon.

Her coat writhed in the harsh winds as the priests, shamans and even Witches in their company invoked air and seas all around them as they sailed to into battle.

---

From the depths of Proudmoore Keep's prison one could hear Chief Jailor Smithson's voice booming from the balcony, "Get this rabble under control!" As Tide Sages turned gouts of water on the marshalling mob that was barely held back by soldiers shields and steel.

"Sounds like it's getting hairy up there," Jamie said, looking to her senior.

"Never you mind what's happening there, we have a job to do," the old man said, speaking louder so his smoky voice could be heard over the hooting and threats of the prisoners.

"Just thinking is all," Jamie said, bringing her sword up before her and studying her reflection in it.

The old man snorted, "If yer nervous lass, just say it. Not every day new recruits have to skeleton crew the cells while a mob rages outside, but it'll blow over."

"Oh, I'm not nervous about that sir," she said, half turning to face him.

Whiskers bristling, he looked to her, brow arched, "What do you, ah!" He flung himself back, the blade slashing across his cheek and sending a chunk of ear to the ground. He went for his sword, but a shadow loomed behind and before he could shout again a mace crushed his skull.

Nodding to her fellow privateer, Jamie glanced deeper into the stunned silent prison as the Scrimshaws were piling on the last guard, the pair stabbing the man over and over until he went limp.

"You done?" she snapped.

"Just being thorough," their leader chuckled, lobbing a pair of keys which she snatched with ease, passing one off to her partner as they began racing around the room.

"Tidemothers Titties, what are you doing!?" Someone howled.

One of the enforcers chuckled, "Giving you lot your freedom, Don Adams sends his regards."

The freed prisoners raced to arm themselves, snatching up armor from the dead, those too fearful or horrified quickly cajoled into place or put down when they tried to run. Within twenty minutes, the prison cells were empty, and Jamie levelled her sword at the stairs, "Your freedom lies that way, with nothing but your jailor standing between you and a clean break."

The lead Scrimshaw raised his arm high, "Down with the Jailor!" before charging up the steps, followed by a roaring band of criminals.

Glancing to her partner, she heard him mutter, "Is this a good idea?"

"Too late now, besides, we will be swinging back ale in Booty Bay before things get real bad," seeing him nod she motioned to a barrel in the back of the room. "Now help me with the oil will ya?"

With a heave and ho, they hefted the barrel from its place and revealed a clean get away to the sewers. Kicking the container over, Jamie watched as the thick gobbly liquid spilled forth and spread across the chamber. Waiting until she heard her partners metal clad feet hit the ground, she took an enchanted candle and as she stepped back, lightly tossed it towards the shimmering liquid.

As she fell into her partners arms, she could practically feel the heat washing over them as light flared up above them.

'Time to go, I think.'

---

Don Adam wore an ear splitting grin on his face as he leaned upon the balcony, Lil'Friend perched obediently on his shoulder, they looked out across the city.

He could just barely make out the ruined barracks in the distance. Tide Sages had quenched the flames it seemed and the crowd he had pulled together had broken under the pressure after Smithson's mangled body had been hurled to the street.

'That got the guards blood pumping,' he thought with a chuckle.

All he had heard hinted at a chaotic melee springing to life around the man's body as flames spread through the barracks. His forces had retreated and the soldiers had turned their blades and magic heedlessly on the civilians, hastening the spread of chaos and anger in the crowd as they tore off to escape.

Casting his gaze across the city, Don Adam scratched his pet's ears as he breathed in the putrid scent of oil fires. Plumes of wretched smoke rising into the sky from condemned houses and alleyways all across the capital as screaming filled the air.

"We win then?" Lil' Friend asked.

"I think so, but we need to wait for the real fireworks to start before we can be sure," he intoned, looking towards the distant docks. He was just in time to see the flash of gun powder tear across the docks in a roaring inferno, followed by another and another.

'The ships may be enchanted to resist flames, but the docks, the fishing boats, the people?' He chuckled, 'Well you can't afford to protect everything Proudmoore and we know where your priorities lie.'

So long as the fires burnt wild and his agents ran wreck loose across Boralus the navy would be weakened, stricken by discord and injuries alike, leaving Kul'Tiras weak and vulnerable.

The perfect target.

---

Daelin stood aboard his flagship, sweat on his brow, shaking hands and the memories of charred flesh, and screaming locked deep within himself as he focused on the task at hand.

"I want us in formation and the cannons loaded, sailors, Kul'Tiras will not fall!"

"Aye Aye sir!"

Hands clasped tight his knuckles creaked as he looked out across his fleet, gaze following the smoke trails rising high from across Boralus that were only now coming under control.

'Not soon enough, not swift enough, the next stage of any attack will begin any moment!'

His focus fell upon his Keep and his chest tightened as the memory struck him.

His family in the lobby, his son shaken, Jaina asking if the war had come for them like Dalaran and promising her magic would be up to the task, and Katherine austere as ever, yet still holding their children's hands.

"I leave the city under Waycrests watch and our home in yours my wife," They kissed for but a moment as he pulled away, pulling his children into a hug. "Protect each other, in the end, family and friends are all one has, and know I love you both."

"Father!" His son cried.

"No fear now," he whispered, a ghost of a smile on his lips.

They steeled themselves, their youth still clear but their bearings every bit as noble as their lineage.

"Please father, do not be reckless," Jaina beseeched.

"I shall endeavor it, and whatever else, remember that I am proud of you both. Always."

And with that he had dashed out the door and to his griffon, the docks being aflame would not keep him from the seas.​

"Admiral we have sights on distant vessels, not our own, they must have broken through our patrols!

He could tell not every ship was yet ready, quelling the flames that clung to the vessels, replacing said, ferrying everyone aboard by griffon had slowed them, let alone re-stocking the gun powder. 'The ships survived but our provisions are wanting,' he thought.

The crow's nest shouted again, "They are not the trolls!"

Daelin spat, "Traitors or overly cunning pirates then? How are our cannons!?"

"We are ready Admiral!" His first mate shouted.

Nodding he snapped, "Let us greet them with a hail of cannon fire then, a true Tirasi welcome to those foolish enough to challenge us on the open seas!"

"Aye Aye Admiral!"

'Down on supplies, sailors and sabers alike,' he thought, catching sight of the approaching vessels. 'But we can hold this lot.'

"Admiral! We have word of troll vessels from the north, it's the flag ship!"

His mind split, his foes approached from two sides and Daelin made his decision, "Have three quarters of our vessels engage them, we shall hold the pirates here!"

"Admiral!?"

"My Flagship can handle a few pirates, now relay my orders!"

His gaze snapped to the pirates, his hand coming to rest on his saber, 'While I draw breath not a one of you shall set foot on Tirasi shores,' His gaze turned to the Tidesages and he took what may be his last look at home before muttering, "No matter the cost."

---

Calia watched as Malakk took his throne across from Galen, the redhead piping up quickly, "As you requested this meeting, it seems only fair you explain your intentions here."

'He's so desperate to avoid addressing him by name or as king,' Calia mused.

"My intentions are simple enough but to know them you must understand them," Malakk hummed, motioning smoothly to those around him and before him as he spoke.

"Great Mother Arctikus and her tribe were chased from their lands, their homes destroyed and their fallen desecrated by the Ironforge Dwarves. It was our efforts to resolve this diplomatically that also led to the execution of my Speaker as you well know."

The brief flickers of anger were enough to put Galen's blood brother, Valorcall on edge. But even as the self-proclaimed king stayed calmly neutral, though Calia imagined he was cursing up a storm inside his head.

"I have heard of this. and yet that does not explain what you hope to gain from this meeting," Galen said sharply.

"I was providing context, if not to yourself then to your nobles, young steward of Stromgarde," Malakk offered smoothly,

Her mother offered a little motion of her head, not even a nod, but it was an indicator to carry on rather than rankle at the question, fine advice Calia thought. 'He's off balance and may slip up if lured in,' she thought.

"My intentions are twin fold," he said, holding up two of three digits. "I seek to secure the South against Ironforge's eventual advance, and to halt the bloodshed in this land."

Galen leaned into his chair, "And how do you intend to do that?"

Malakk chuckled, "That is what we are here to discuss no?"

The nobles of Stromgarde looked displeased, while their own side remained calm and at ease, 'We are not the one's on a schedule after all,' Calia mused.

Evidently the silence, the underlying tension and likely Malakk's pleased grin rankled Galen and he spoke, voice high and regal. "A treaty then, between Stromgarde, yourself and the Witherbark is the intent then?"

A noble, Claremont she thought, scoffed, "You would need to bludgeon them into submission."

"Oh, I would never be so gauche," Malakk crooned.

"They would not accept a treaty out of mere good manners," Galen pressed, "And you've the military force to make them heel."

'A mistake, you admit to their strength in comparison to yours,' Calia thought.

"I do," Malakk conceded, "but I am not in the business of adding to strife and forcing my cousins to stand down in what they view as a reclamation would be poor politics."

"This is our land," Valorcall stressed.

"And it is theirs," Gal'Darah chimed in, "Something can belong to more than one soul at a time, that is how families function after all."

A scoff escaped another obscured noble's face, "You want us to join with them? I'd sooner die."

Her mother waved to speak but did not await for permission. "I believe what the Grand Prophet meant to indicate was for as long as there have been humans in Arathi there have been trolls."

"To prey on us," Galen said sternly, looking almost stung and his compatriots stunned and embittered by her mother's words.

'Were they expecting our help at this late stage?'

"And be raided themselves I am sure," Arctikus said coldly.

Malakk motioned for silence and leaned into his throne, "If we trace every wrongdoing of history back to its inception, we shall be here longer than any of us will draw breath." Tapping his throne, he added, "I cannot promise something as simple as a negotiated treaty. It would risk violence with my cousins, is unlikely to succeed and," He motioned backwards with his head, "Would not secure the South."

Galen steepled his fingers and leaned forward, "With the Witherbark driven back I could secure Thandol Span easily enough."

"But would you willingly hold it?" Malakk asked sharply.

Galen shrugged, "If it was part of a treaty."

"Such casual airs for one discussing going to war with such a mighty foe," Malakk chuckled. "I am afraid I would need more than that to trust such a matter to Stromgarde alone, something that does not risk fading should the Bronzebeard swallow their pride and promise you lands and gold in exchange for aid."

Valorcall nearly growled, "You think he would betray a treaty?"

'Yes,' Calia wants to snap.

"For the good of his people and nation?" Malakk asked quizzically, staring right into Galen's eyes, "In a heartbeat."

A tremor of tension rippled across the Stromgardians but it was gone as soon as it came.

Galen frowned, "If not a treaty…" Calia could practically see him wanting to tap his foot in frustration. "An accord then… An alliance between our nations. That would certainly be more permanent than a treaty and make we could ensure guarding Thandol Span was a joint affair."

Malakk clicked his tongue in thought, "A fair idea to be sure, but I fear we would be presented with similar problems." He motioned North, "Already Zul'jin rallies the tribes to his voice, and the Witherbark would be eager to demand a price in exchange for their allegiance." The Frost King lolled his head to the side, "I would be compelled to answer of course but this would be refuting my debt unto him as well as fighting a war against my cousins with whom I would not otherwise fight. Such a decision may well turn the fates against me."

"Would an alliance with you not still their weapons?" Galen asked, arching his brow.

Malakk chuckled, "For a time, perhaps forever, but it is no certain thing and given the… Difficulties your kingdom has been facing, this would likely prove a costly and unpopular affair. I know afterall, of your troll hunters, I am aware of your name, your neighbors and much more. You must understand, steward of Stromgarde, how my being willing to send my warriors to die against their own cousins under such circumstances for those who might otherwise hate them would be unsustainable."

"You speak quite boldly for one who came seeking an audience," Galen said, shoulders stiff and expression thunderous.

Malakk's easy manner never wavered, "I came for the reasons I assured you, to secure the South and stem the tides of pointless war and woe. Were I a callous king I would leave this matter to be resolved by the Witherbark, their allies and yourselves. Doubtlessly no one is free of sin, so I could wash my hands of this sordid business with a clear mind."

"And yet you will not accept any offer I put to you," Galen groused.

"Because you are not making the right offers," Calia said, her tone bland but bereft of warmth or charm.

"She speaks," One of the nobles across from them said, muttering something about stolen tongues under her breath.

Galen looked to Malakk who merely nodded, "Please, finish your thought."

Calia looked to Galen and took a breath, voice level and mind flooding with overheard records and statistics she spoke.

"You make offers that are to your own benefit alone, cloaked in the guise of mutual aid; to succeed in deliberations you need offer something that cannot be taken."

"And that would be?" Galen asked, tensing in his chair.

Calia glanced to the Frost King and received a flicker of a smile, a signal to continue.

"Stromgarde has been ailing for some time, the Second War struck you hard, entire villages were immigrating to Stormwind and your father refused to adapt to the changing tides."

"You presume much," Valorcall groused.

"I observe the truth, were this not the case the Witherbark and their ogres would pose no threat to you and the army marching on Durnholde would not have been so easily bested." Her words were bitter as she locked eyes with Galen, "You acted to take the reins of this nation and change its fate but you were too late, your enemies too prepared." She tilted her head to the side, tone growing sharp, "You are trying to treat with the Drakkari as though you are equals when in truth, this is Malakk's charity."

"Bite your tongue!" Galen roared, flinging himself to his feet.

He took a single hasty step forward only to still at Malakk's growled, "No."

The prince turned traitor king's chest heaved as he drew himself back and barely bit down a hiss.

Tapping his throne, the Frost King continued, "While harsh her words do ring with truth. Securing the South once you and the Witherbark tear each other to shreds would also be a simpler affair than this."

"Ironforge-"

"Would only seek you as an ally if they had no other choice and so will not help you when your kingdom is collapsing. Better they will think to leave the traitor princes to his fate and to place a puppet on the throne when all hope of victory is lost. What's more, your failure here would funnel refugees to them and weaken the Witherbark, while keeping my forces from Thandol Span." The Frost King clasped his hands, "The only way for Stromgarde to survive and to ensure the Witherbark and Ironforge do not strike it low, is to join with me."

"Join... You..." Galen half whispered.

Malakk opened his arms and smiled, "Become a part of my empire, retire the title of steward and become a Royal Councilors. As my subjects it will be my duty to protect you and the Witherbark will not tempt my wrath with my people as they would a terse ally."

"We will not be your people, we are humans!" A noble snapped.

Malakk shrugged, "Trolls, Wolvar, Tuskar, human and more are welcome in my empire, all are Drakkari, though they retain their cultures and faiths. As my Royal Councilors can well tell you."

Calia followed in her mother's wake as she and the other Councilors rose to their feet.

Beve spoke first, voice tinkling with laughter, "He has restored my former rank and expanded my territory, he will do the same for Stromgarde."

Illucia steeled her shoulders, "He shattered Dalaran to save our daughter."

Her mother clasped her hands and spoke coldly, but with resolute strength, "Our laws have not changed, our people are not sacrificed, or our faith oppressed." She shrugged, "By all rights, little has changed save who protects the kingdoms borders."

"And what of your pride as humans!?" A nobleman seethed.

Illucia scoffed, "Look where your pride has led you."

Malakk rose from his throne and revealed a scroll which his lazily tossed to Galen; but Valorcall surged in front of his king and snatched it from the air.

Malakk clasped his hands behind his back "You will find the same terms I offered your contemporaries contained within that scroll. Deliberate as much or as little as you wish."

Galen's hand lurched to the pommel of his sword when Malakk's back turned, but the little king froze at the next words out of Malakk's mouth.

"I am not the one pressed for time after all."

---

Daelin stared from the deck of his ship, a thousand curses straining to escape his lips as Harlan Sweete and his flagship, Iron-Scythe cleaved through one of his lesser frigates and was surging passed the blockade.

"Admiral, they will pass us by!"

Cannons roared to life, but Iron-Scythe kept its lesser ships close, their enslaved crew howling as they were torn to shreds, astheir masters leapt into the water for safety.

'That was enough, they will break through and rip us apart from the rear then bombard the coast!' Lesser ships had broken through but had neither the means nor the power to harass the coast let alone his vessel. Their crews could be held at bay until he returned. But the Irontide were monsters, even for pirates.

He looked to the troll vessels and cursed them in the old tongue. Firing from afar, had held them. Cannons and Tidesages turning the waters against them, had held them. But now, with their rear lines under assault, they would not be able to hold them.

'Our numbers are falling, the pirates are slipping through and mine is the only ship that can stop them!'

His mind was hazy and hot, the stench of smoke and death assailing his senses. His thoughts flashed to his family and their fate in pirate hands, and he knew what decision must be made.

"Prepare to abandoned ship, Tidesages, send us surging back, we shall split the Irontide asunder!"

No one protested, battle was no time to think or question, only to obey, so when his crew howled, "Aye Aye Admiral!" Daelin knew he would be hearing it for the last time.

'Let this count, let the pirates break and our navy triumph, let me save my family at least.'

That was all he could hope for in the end.

It was all he had.

---

"Daelin's going to bite it!" The Watch tower howled and Hooktusk launched herself from her command chair, frantically swinging and scaling her way up and shoving the watcher aside to claim the enchanted spyglass.

"Blimey he is," she murmured, nearly enraptured by the sight of the tides surging beneath the ships, pulling Kul'Tiras's pride and the Iron-Scythe closer and closer.

She could make out the desperate attempts of enslaved and willing shaman to counter the waves, but when pitted against the best of the Tidesages they had no rebuke.

Harlan's scheme of using smaller frigates as shields had gotten him far, but even as the last of them was dragged in front of his own It was clear the little speeder would be crushed and Proudmoore's flagship would survive.

'They'll rip each other to shreds,' she mused, as the cannons were angled, final shots let loose as magic flew wildly and crew flung themselves from the decks only to be sucked into the writhing water, and ground to pulp!

The pace increased, the sea spray nearly blinding, too late to stop now even if Proudmoore wanted too. The enchanted Tirasi ship rose high on a swell as if to come down like a hammer.

Unwilling to be outdone even in his final moments Harlan, by some miracle managed to tilt his ship and ride in on the wave that spelled his doom. The Irontides gleaming steel blade striking against Proudmoores bow.

Magic and metal dueled only for both to give way as one. Harlens' ships crumbled under the weight, hull splintering into a shower of broken beams and flying steel. But not before Proudmoore's ship was stabbed through its heart.

Crashing down a mighty wave burst forth that would have swallowed Harlen's scream as he was crushed beneath his foes vessel, but it would not save Daelin's flagship, hull splintering and shredding itself as water flooded in, tearing the ship asunder even as it began to sink. Final cannon shots ringing out in a desperate bid to strike even one more pirate, before it split in two, the bow heaving itself into the oceans and close behind it followed the Admiral of Kul'Tiras.

Drawing back and in a show of not entirely mock respect, Hooktusk pulled free her captains' hat and rested it on her heat, "You were always a bastard to fight, Daelin." It was as close as she could come to showing respect.

"You think he coulda survived?"

"No way, never."

"He's tenacious and has the Tidemother."

Her watchers were bickering, but Hooktusk ignored their words. Instead clasping her belt, fingers brushing over Gral's sigil, her gaze turning back to the spyglass and the flickering forms of sharks beneath the writing waves.

Sucking in a breath she stood to her full height and bellowed. "We will press the attack! Daelin's fall has left a whirlpool but if we push forward now, his forces will have no choice but to engage us and let the pirates through. Savvy!?"

"Aye Aye, Navarch!"

---

Galen was glowering at them, which was not unusual, Lianne had rarely seen the youth look happy save for when in Danath's presence, but it had an added layer of near feral vexation it had once lacked.

'Being laid bare as a Podunk nation will do that to one's pride I suppose.'

Even still the boy tried to carry himself with some pride as he groused, "You demand we give up our lands to the Witherbark."

Malakk, sounding more like a bored parent than a king in the moment toyed with a tusk and answered, "Lands you never inhabited or lost thanks with the recent exodus, but in return you shall be gifted lands outside Thoradin's wall, once part of your dominion," He shrugged, "It is a fair arrangement."

Lianne glanced at Beve, the woman had been all too comfortable surrendering such a vast estate in Hillsbrad to her traditional rivals. 'Was this agreed on beforehand, or does she feel her understanding of Malakk is great enough she will be rewarded for her acquiescence later and if so, how?' Such was a disturbing thought, already her family's territory had been reduced to Trisfal and it was easy enough to see where Malakk may begin trimming in order to keep his collaborators happy.

Lianne forced the thoughts from her mind, losing focus on the here and now thinking of the future would risk too much.

Unable to argue with the logic and not in a position to make demands, Galen's sour expression was matched by his nobles. Less for the trading of land and more the fact anything was being given up to trolls she imagined.

Finally, Galen spoke, "And you think the Witherbark will agree to this, let alone their savage pets?"

Malakk's manner was easy and he nodded, "The Witherbark are not a popular tribe, the Ogres are not diplomatic to say it mildly. Even were they to join hands with Zul'jin he would not be fool enough to risk a war with me when his holy land lies so far away. Even if the worst were to pass he would merely demand more lenient trade terms or aid against the Elves in some far off future war."

"Neither of which you are bereft of reason to give him, I take it?" Galen said, impressing Lianne with his quick deduction, but not with his bluntness.

Malakk clicked his tongue, "A strong neighbor I am friends with is pleasant indeed and the elves do not strike me as terribly companiable, so you are not wrong."

Malakk let them lapse back into silence, as Galen searched for something else to complain about, finally hitting upon another point. "Why so many of these garrisons?"

"In case of the Dwarves, as a deterrent against the Witherbark-"

'And Stromgarde,' Lianne mused.

"And to oversee the study of these Circles," Malakk motioned to the stone array at his left, which Pai Stormbringer along with several troll and Wolvar scholars were exploring.

"And your interest in those is rooted in what, may I ask?" The head of Stromgarde's mage league asked, a woman whose youthful appearance belied her age and power.

"A fair question Magus Quinviere, Gal'Darah if you might?" Malakk intoned.

The Grand Prophet rose to his feet, hands clasped behind his back and said, "Ever since stepping foot upon these lands our scholars of magic have been able to sense a power running through these sites. For now, our curiosity is strictly elementary, but if the energies within can be harnessed, these sights could become of great use to the empire as magical…" he struggled for a moment and settled on, "factories."

His words clearly sent a wave of subtle intrigue across the crowd as Malakk added, "Naturally the dividends for this would be divide evenly between the empire and Stromgarde's newly restructured government to do with as you see fit."

The 'within reason' went without saying of course.

A brief storm of muttering washed over Stromgarde's nobles, the sounds of faint tapping along steel plating from Zol'Maz ringing in the air, subtle enough to not be a hindrance but loud enough to be heard.

Finally, Galen turned to face them, swallowing as he stepped forward, Valorcall at his side and his noble's council standing silently at attention he spoke, tone bereft of feeling, "Frost King Malakk of the Drakkari Empire… The noble council of Stromgarde this nation, her people and the royal line of stewards that I, King Galen Trollbane lead… Accept your terms."

With that he pressed the scroll down on a humble, if ornate oak table laid out between the camps and in sharp, bold letters signed his name and title away.

"I am no longer king of Stromgarde, rule of the Arathi Highlands, but a Royal Councilor, of the Drakkari Empire."

Malakk rose to his feet, taking Galen's hand in his own he clasped his shoulder gently, "This act hearkens to a new dawn for this land and her people. Today is the beginning of a long and beautiful era of prosperity for all peoples of the Drakkari Empire."

"Welcome to the fold, Royal Councilor."

---

NOTES:

Very sorry for the late post, I don't have a good excuse I just got really wrapped up in writing an alt history timeline and forgot what day it was

Anyway, as promised I reveal Calia's perspective and exploring her use of agency which is nice, plus Jaina is here, in a sense and we see the plans in Kul'Tiras finally enter full swing. Also yeah, Daelin's got some heavy PTSD from his son and fleet being burnt alive, which impacted his decisions. Also wow, thanks Blizzard for introducing a literal pirate fleet, this would be much harder to justify without them, as in I legit could not get away with it XD

The discourse around Stromgarde was super hard to write, and part of me was wondering id I was going in the right direction, but some of the comments indicated people expected this path which told me I'd done the set up right so I stuck it out. I also wanted to reframe again that Galen can be a bastard but he isn't purely selfish, hence Malakk's observation about why he'd be willing to break a treaty. Anyway I hope the conclusion on that front worked, much of it relied on the fact Galen knows the Witherbark will be coming for him if he says no and that any aid from Ironforge is likely to put him in the same or even worse position than he is currently.