AN: GG I seriously need to stop attaching OC's! Freaking toons are meant to pass on a bit of information, or kick someones ass because I thought the plot was going slow, but they always manage to freaking eat up thousands of words and set my muse soaring. It's horrible! The two you will be introduced to this chapter were meant entirely to be escort and liason to the elves for George and Andrea, but well... you'll see.

Disclaimer: I really don't post this often enough I guess, but if your recognize it that's because it comes from research and belongs to some one else. If you don't there's a pretty good chance it comes from my own polluted mind, but don't count on that. WC1, 2, 3, WoW and WCTabletop belong to Blizzard entertainment, George and other Harry Potter related messes belong to JKRowling and the plot and history sections largely belong to me and I've done a great deal of editing to make the researched worlds and cultural folklore fit together.

Without further ado, chapter 14.

August 14th 2008..,

Essex England..,

Malfoy Manor..,

Astoria Malfoy ne Greengrass awoke slowly, a groan on her lips and a sharp stabbing pain in her temple. While not particularly common, this state of affairs wasn't unfamiliar to her and the Lady Malfoy did what she always did in this situation.

"Muffty" she croaked out, closing here eyes against the irritating light, "headache potion and coffee, black, 3 sugars." Thus said, the petite blond rolled over into her warm squishy pillow and prepared for a nice snooze...

Astoria stiffened.

Warm... and squishy? Her pillows were goose down with the quills removed, and they certainly shouldn't be this hot... Slowly opening her eyes she found herself looking town at the flat stomach and underbreast of some girl with skin the color of milk chocolate, the womans nipple just past the bridge of her nose.

With a noise that sounded somewhere between a choked sob and a groan Astoria closed her eyes and prayed this was all a dream. True, she like many of the other girls in her dorm and the other houses up and down the years had experimented with other girls and she'd even somewhat liked it, but part of her betrothal to Draco over the Parkinsons was that the pair of them were faithful to each other. True, this was some random girl she'd probably picked up in a muggle pub or club judging by the state of her cloths and Astoria's own hangover so the rules were a little iffy, but one thing was certain.

The girl had to go.

Reaching behind her Astoria summoned her wand from the night stand and, propping herself up on one elbow, stunned the other woman point blank.

~! #$%^&*()_+

George stared uncomprehendingly at the great tree. The peak it was perched on was nearly two and a half miles above sea level and the damn thing still dwarfed them mountain it sat upon. Even flying as he was, nearly a hundred miles from the base of the tree itself it looked as if the entire mountain range was merely potting soil built up around the roots of the great monstrosity with clouds girding the top of its roots. Bring them to mount Hyjal she said George thought faintly, bring them to the world tree. World tree indeed! The tree before him, little more than an hours flight away was named Nordrassil, or Crown of the Heavens in draconic, a word which had been added to the Keldori language since then. The thought that brought him up short however was how similar the tree was to the name and description of another such tree, that of Yggdrassil, which meant crown of the world in old Scandinavian, the language of the Asgardian pantheon of gods.

Could there be a connection? Was there a link between their worlds older than the one he forged now? Nidhog the black dragon, spirit of earth was responsible for the death of the world tree on earth according to legend, an event which took place ten thousand years ago and precipitated the first invasion of earth by the burning legion. Here too black dragons were the guardians of the earth and their leader Deathwing, formerly known as Neltharion, went insane during this worlds own invasion of the burning legion, destroying the dragon flights and sinking over half of the planet into the sea, events which brought about the growth of this 'world tree'. Both sets of events within a century, give or take, of each other. It was uncanny and the connotations of the events being connected worried him.

"Deep thoughts, Weasley?"

George looked over at the red-haired elf sitting beside him on the carpet "Wouldn't you like to know?" he asked with a smirk.

"Nordrassil, the world tree and the center of our society since the order of druids was founded" Marrius Skychaser, our night elven guide and Druid of the Talon replied, cutting in to our conversation from behind us on the carpet. "Born from the seed of G'hanir, the spirit tree that serves as the after life for all the winged dead of Elunes realm." He laughed. "It's actually a subject of great debate among my sect whether we Druids of the Talon will end up in G'hanir with our patron Aviana when we die or the silver city that is the afterlife of most who live under the guiding light of the mother moon."

"You think about dying a lot?" Andrea asked, a strange look on her face.

Another night elf, this one a sentinels who was the other half of our escort replied with a nod. "On the eve of most battles" she replied, her voice somewhat somber. "When the druids tree made our society immortal, illness and age no longer meant anything to us, but hunger and injury on one battlefield or another became much more... important to us..." George turned around, handing over control of the flight to Andrea, interested now. The female Skychaser had this look about her, that said the subject of discussion was deeply personal. "Early on in our society after the end of the second great war, our children, the younger generation, those being born to immortality, lacked a certain... something. A fire, I've heard some call it. A drive, the will to learn and do and change." Her gaze zeroed in on George suddenly "imagine what it would mean to understand, from your earliest beginnings that you could literally live forever. Barring someone coming up to you and shoving their blade or claws into your gut, you honestly have forever to do whatever you want. What would you do? Would you see any pressing reason to do anything at all? After all, you could always start something later... There's no rush, no hurry. You have eternity after all..."

George nodded as the beginning of understanding dawned on him. Humans were mortal creatures, and Elves, like them, were driven on as much by the need for definition as the joy or necessity of simply doing things. He remembered reading a paper written by the Flamel's on the subject about their feelings on the elixir of life and why they refused to simply hand it out to others, the truths of people and society they'd learnt the hard way when they'd tried after first succeeding in their legendary accomplishment. People weren't meant to live forever and that mortal fear was something people needed. George remembered scoffing at that particular chapter in the book as it talked about the Flamel's children and how they and the various kings and talented colleges had changed when they believed that nothing could kill them and that the safety net of the elixir would always be there, waiting. If these people had experienced it on a societal level, perhaps it wasn't just waffling and bad choices in candidates as the redhead had originally assumed.

"So what happened?" he asked, genuinely interested.

The speaker, Mellendris, smiled. "A war."

George face-faulted and the sentinel laughed. "You must remember, George Weasley, that our people, for all our love of nature and beauty, are very violent in nature. From our earliest beginnings under the guiding light of Elune we were at war. Back then it was with the empires of the Amani trolls, the Mogu and their thalls, the faceless gods and their Silithid swarm, even Ordos and his marauding nomad herds, though we did get along better with them than any of our other enemies and the tribes that survived the sundering are even friends of a sort. Kindred spirits I suppose. The only people we had contact with at that time whom the old empire never went to war was the Pandaren Empire in the far south. It matters little for the telling of the story however."

Sentinel Skychasers smile turned sad now. "Among the elves many enemies were of course those we'd made ourselves, the Harpy, Naga and Satyr." She paused "well, we made the harpy at least. No history ever tells you the whole truth and it happened before my time. I was a young enchantress when the Legion came, barely into my apprenticeship and Azshara's reign had lasted for nearly five hundred years at that point, her life extended from our normal three hundred by a deep devotion to the arcane study of the well of eternity. From what we were told in our schooling Azshara came to power at an early age and there was some sort of mystery surrounding her predecessor's death. Azshara was beautiful and kind, a favored among the priesthood and a truly uncommon talent in the arcane arts. She was a popular ruler even in the beginning, but there were dissenters. One day they rallied together inside her palace and demanded she step down, and let the people decide again. When she was chosen over their candidate they attacked her and Azshara cursed them, twisting their bodies and banishing them from the cities and holy places of the Keldori people."

"Or at least," Marrius spoke up "that's what they tell us." His wife nodded. Twisting around till his back cracked the druid continued the explanation where his mate had left off at his interruption. "Nobody is quite sure where the Naga came from, but you and Illidan claimed to have seen them during your adventures directly after the sundering when our world sank beneath the waves. Our people on the other hand only discovered them at large during the Deeping Well Incident when one of the baro dens on the far shore of Ashenvale dug too deeply and hit a system of underground rivers they themselves had colonized. In the five hundred years since the sentinels have repelled no less than three thousand incursions all up and down the coast of Kalimdor."

Mellindris smiled ruefully. "By incursion he means armed parties of five or more. Some Naga are peaceful and and offer trade, or help us against the Centaur or the Satyr, but there have been three wars with them since their discovery in recent centuries. The Satyr on the other hand," her expression turned dark now, her pretty blue face warped unto an ugly scowl "we do know the origins of."

"The highborn" they said in unison.

"Excuse me, highborn?" Asked Andrea. "You mean us, right? The Sin'dori?" Andrea hadn't turned toward the pair as they had regaled George with night elf history and culture, but she had been listening, a scroll and quill out, the enchanted implement scribbling furiously.

"...in part." Marrius allowed. "Despite the tensions and reactions of the time it was well known that many of the highborn were opposed to Azshara's methods and particularly the project which brought the attention and aggression of the Legion." With a sigh he continued. "There is no denying however that it was the Highborn who were responsible." Noticing Georges confusion he explained. "Your partners people, the... Sin'dori as she called them, were made of those who refused to abandon their arcane arts in any form, among them the noble families known as the highborn. I remember the arguments in the forums well. Our society was based... heavily on the use of arcane energy. It flowed from the well in an endless stream and no matter how many drew from its depths there was always enough and more for us to create whatever we dreamed. When we lost the Well along with most of our cities and farmland to the Legion and then were denied their recovery by the sundering, we lost more than just the source of our power, we lost the core of our civilization. Homes, businesses, art, artifacts... only a few cities in the western mountains survived and most of them were frontier buildings at best. When we began moving to other methods of drawing the necessary power from its source Malfurion revealed that reckless experimentation with the nether was what brought the Legion to our door in the first place... it wasn't pretty. Many of our people were already suffering withdrawal symptoms and the existing sorcerers were having a great deal of difficulty keeping up with the demand for portable civilian sources. Faced with choice between suffering the Legion again and losing our magic entirely many went feral. Others began hoarding arcane artifacts and eating them when the hunger grew too great. It was a bad time."

Mellindris nodded. "This crysis of ours is in large part what spurred our society to make the switch to druidism and renewed devotion to Elune so quickly, but as your friend there can attest... Well... not everybody was so willing to give up their powers for another path. A large sect of the remaining civilian and noble sorcerers and enchanters outright refused to give up what they saw as our cultural identity and after war nearly broke out between us and them Tyrande stepped in and revealed two secrets shared with her by the Mother Moon. The first was that Illidan Stormrage had taken, not three blasphemous vials from the Well of Eternity, but eight of them. She told the leader of the rebellious magic users where two of them were hidden and of the existence of the other continents. The High priestess then banished them, saying that she had received a prophesy that they would be needed in millenia to come, but that they couldn't stay here."

"All of that is unimportant at the moment however," she continued, waving the crimson tressed high elf off, "we were talking about the Satyr and how those monsters actually saved our society from ruining itself."

"The satyr" the druid picked up "were what happened to the elves who sold their souls to the Legion. Starting with the Lord Adviser to the queen, Xavius, the highborn courtiers of Azshara's palace who succumbed to the will of Sargeras and his fel magics were transformed into twisted hateful mockeries of their former selves. Larger and stronger even than the mages, politicians and warriors who became them, the satyr were born of a cruel and malicious cunning. They seek nothing but the death, corruption and desecration of everything around them and were somehow cunning enough to escape the Stormrage brothers curse when the pair of them banished the legion from our world. No one is quite sure how. Portals maybe, or perhaps they saw what was coming and fled far enough that even the curse could not draw them back through the Legions portals before the Well imploded, but regardless, three hundred and fifty years after the fall of the well, they attacked."

The sentinel nodded. "They were careful this time." she said. "Unlike the legion before them the Satyr and the demon armies they summoned kept themselves to skirmishes. They stuck to raiding only groves(towns), glades(villages) and farms they could easily overwhelm and building fortresses of their own from which to spread their vile corruption to the land around them, killing it more often than not. For all their lesser numbers the war of the Satyr was easily as bloody as the war of the ancients a mere three centuries earlier. The highlight of that dark time was that it proved Illidan was right and the Legion would indeed continue claw at our door as it were."

"And lemme guess," George interrupted "the war was especially hard on those first two or three post war generations whose lethargy had made them essentially civilians where the survivors of the previous war were paranoid enough to train and survive again."

"You understand then," Mellindris replied.

"Not particularly" the ginger returned with a grin "but they cycle's common enough on our world that Harry's explained it to me a time or two. A Dark Lord or evil politician rises, war ensues, the surviving population after the war swears never again and has a baby boom to make up for the loss of life during the war. Problem is, the kids who were born afterward can't understand why their parents act so strange when they haven't grown up with all the pressures brought on by the horror of war. Then another Dark Lord or evil politician rises in answer to the unrest left by the last war and because the children don't listen and the elder generations have been marginalized by this point, the cycle starts all over again. King James, Emillio Garcia, Gellert Grindelwald, Voldemort, Muhammad Assam. There's probably a few dozen in between I've missed, but I was never particularly fond of history. At our school the subject was taught by a ghost with a droning monotone voice."

"So," he continued "the generational war's happened here at least once. How'd you get out of it? Your explanation suggested that after this War of the Satyr this wasn't a problem anymore? And does it have anything to do with those fascinating enchantments I'm feeling all over your weapons and armor?"

"You're not far off." the warrior priestess agreed with an irritated shake of her head. "Despite the younger generation, the war of the Satyr took place during the heyday of Malfurions teaching career. During those days the survivors of the older generation were constantly pushing the envelope on what could be done under our new style of magic and it was approaching the levels of pervasive use with which we had formerly wielded the arcane. After the newly formed orders of Goldrin and Tortolla helped us to defeat and scatter the Satyr, a system of apprenticeships was established. With the threat of war and the death it still brought us, our people gained purpose again to counter the lethargy of our new immortality. The surety of ages is still there, but where our children and to some extent ourselves as well, were unwilling to devote ourselves to anything when we knew we would have the time later, we were now unwilling to devote ourselves to just one thing. I believe Harry described us as a culture of hobbyists the time we met him."

At this statement, the implication that enchanting was a hobby rather than a life style Andrea looked affronted and George as well felt somewhat irritated. "For example, to join the sentinels, completion of our training requires us to personally craft and bless a complete set of weapons and armor that is our standard uniform of the order. Among other things that requires us to spend time as blacksmiths, armor-smiths, weapon-smiths, and not an insignificant time under the guiding light of the priestesses of Elune at a minimum. Further, because spending time among the sentinels is almost a guarantee of seeing combat one must be certain they have the best possible weapons, armor and training available lest the experience prove to be a fatal one. To properly craft a weapon or piece of armor you need to understand how it moves, what it does, its' weight, the balance, how it will conform to or restrict your own body... For that you need to spend time training in each of the weapons our order uses, both plate and chain-mail armor, stealth, hunting, tree walking. From there things branch out to mining, metallurgy, gymnastics... often sisters, either before or after their acceptance into the Sentinels, travel to each of the druid enclaves to study under the ancients of our goddesses pantheon or even devote themselves to it, spending time among the dream fighting the shadows of the faceless gods and assisting in the guardianship of their seven prisons."

Marrius nodded. "This pattern is hardly limited to our women either. Those of us who live long enough often come back to our favorite jobs to hone our skills and see about pushing our understanding of the craft into new territory altogether. Then of course there are rankings within the various orders one can progress through. Despite our centuries of sleep in devotion to one member of Elunes Pantheon or another we aren't born into our service as druids or automatically follow our fathers, or occasionally mothers, into the dream."

George nodded. Hobbyists indeed. "So, what enchant, er... blessings are on your weapons? From what I've been able to see the sentinels usually carry a glaive, bow and twin swords along with half plate armor and a full set of chain. At a guess, I'd say your army styles themselves for high mobility hit and run combat? More guerrilla than urban warfare I think... I'd have to ask Harry."

She nodded. "Exactly." she replied, making George grin. "My armor is blessed to be light, regenerate themselves and resist fel magic and my weapons are enchanted for demon slaying, extra sharpness and to return when I loose them. As you guessed by my equipment (and without the high impact spells we were used to with the well of eternity) we've adopted tactic of skirmishes and strafing. Ambush tactics, sniping, highly mobile forms of combat, anything that will reduce elven deaths in battle. Also between deathwing sinking most of the continent and the druids with their trees we've lost the open plains and rolling hills of the old world meaning that forming ranks in an exercise in futility and siege weapons are only useful in specific instances."

"And we're the artillery!" Marrius finished with a grin.

His wife rolled her eyes and patted him on the shoulder. "Yes, dear, you're the artillery when things get bad."

"In all serious though" the Druid of the Talon continued "our training as druids makes us fully capable of controlling the weather on a large scale, coaxing plants to move like soldiers in our defense, command armies of wild animals, become the great beasts ourselves (either selectively or completely as the need suits us) and even commanding light infused arcane sorcery under the guidance of the goddess. While we have to work with the spirits of the world to accomplish our feats of magic, to fight a druid is to fight against nature itself. While slower and not nearly so impressive as our past as mages or our cousins and their students the humans sorcerers, we can literally turn the very land against our enemies and make a career of fighting against or under the direct command and guidance of gods themselves."

George nodded, committing everything to memory. "Yeah, I've seen you guys transform into birds and your leader Tyrande mentioned other forms." He transformed into his kitsune animagus form, three tails waving, and shrugged. "I was kind of interested in what creatures you can become and why. Also, you said the tree gives you immortality... care to explain? We've got a few methods back home I know of, but few are particularly pleasant and all are ridiculously difficult."

The pair looked at each other and Andrea continued to scribble away, listening intently. She'd already discovered a gold mine with the whole druidism thing and the knowledge that there were still three vials of the well of eternity out there, just waiting to be found? Just two of them had given them the Sunwell! Three of them had given their cousins immortality and freedom from arcane addiction! Screw paying Prince Kael back for his years of charity, she could bargain this alone for a spot as his lieutenant, or hell, even access to the lords private library! And that was before they found the vials! Two to ignite a new Sunwell, the third to enchant a source for herself! Then the Half-elves really could make their own homeland as they'd been discussing for centuries, with her at their head...

Of course she'd have to find them first, then there was the logistics of organizing parties to retrieve the relics, the politics of who got them and how they were used, keeping the living legends Tyrande and Illidan from interfering... Andrea calmed her breathing and continued writing, her ears quivering as she carefully wrote down everything that was said, word for word and with the appropriate speaker in mind. Light, if any of this panned out, she would kiss Weasley full on the mouth and forgive him all the aggravation of the last several months!

"I'll take this one, love." Marrius said before turning to George again. "Let's start with the simple one. Each druid is capable of assuming a fairly wide number of forms, but it depends mostly on which mentors we studied under."

George nodded. "Tyrande told me part of this, Druids of the Moon become Owlbeasts, whatever those are, the ones who follow Goldrin become werewolves, Cenarius stooges become trees, so on and so forth. But how do you choose? On my world you transform into a single creature based upon your personality, but Tyrande suggested things worked differently here..." the redhead trailed off, fishing.

"Every form the High Priestess mentioned to you we can become and probably more. While some forms do respond better to our brothers and sisters based one who they are, the ability to assume the form of one beast or many is more about which of Elune's pantheon we study under before we join a specific order. I myself have studied under Aviana, can become a stormcrow, nightsaber, stag, Ancient of Lore and recently gained the Owlbeast form while awake on rotation with Mell."

His wife snorted as he kissed her on the forehead. "If by recent you mean four thousand years ago when I was training to join the sentinels."

"Hush you, you're making me feel like an old man entertaining the grand-kids." He chuckled, nuzzling into the side of her neck as she slapped him away. George looked on amused and slightly impatient. Being able to take multiple forms sounded like it might be a noticeable improvement on current animagus training and if it was a pervasive as these two suggested it was probably easier to learn than becoming animagi. He made a note to bargain with these people to study the process at some point in the future. It wasn't quite prank-worthy, but selling the process when multiple forms was something considered legendary back home would net him an Order of Merlin First Class he was certain and getting Percy to be the one assigned to present it to him... The picture would be blackmail worthy till he and his brother were great grandparents!

As the cuddly romance bit died down George offered them a raised brow and Marrius coughed lightly before continuing. "The, ah, tree... yes. The world tree was blessed by three of the five dragon aspects at the end of the second great war. Illidan had used three of his vials from the well to turn the lake atop Hyjal into a new well of eternity and the aspects and Elune were determined to be sure that the Legion could never again make use of the waters powers to enter or corrupt our world. Elune offered a blessed seed from her tree G'hanir and the aspects each gave their own blessings to make the tree grow. Freedom from all forms of illness and a talent with living things, especially animals was Alexstraza's gift, so long as the world tree remains healthy. Agelessness and a gift of prophesy was offered by Nozdormu the guardian or time. And finally a racial connection to the Emerald and the ability to sleep for long periods of time without wasting away from lack of food or drink was given by Ysera, head of the green flight and keeper of the dream."

Andrea frowned slightly. So the immortality came from the dragon aspects... Well, it wasn't a total loss. She already knew from listening to Tyrande that the waters for the moon wells in each temple were drawn from a lake atop Hyjal and blessed by Elune nightly. The tree that fed from the lake and grew atop it was essentially a miniature Well of Eternity itself. Between the moon wells and the lake beneath the tree a new Sunwell could easily be crafted and the waters of these other wells were already heavily protected from warlocks and other demonic interference as they had done when enchanting their own well so in all honesty that should make it easier.

The question now was how to go about taking it. Astromancer Solus didn't particularly fancy testing her own might against a goddess... but they way this sentinel and the priestess had talked about their deity it shouldn't be too difficult to negotiate some sort of terms. There was also the possibility of duping these people into setting up Moonwells in Sin'dori territory on their own account, allowing the local sorcerers to siphon the residual energies that blossomed from them at their leisure. Void, if the priestesses of the moon were even a fraction as pushy as the priests of the holy light and their pretentious paladins (her uncle excluded) were, she may not even need to put forth effort, simply pointing out the willingness of the alliance races to have a temple nearby should do it.

George too was intrigued. Blessings of a goddess were the type of enchantment not seen on earth for a good thousand years or more. The artifacts left over from that time were still unexplainable by arithmancy and incapable of being reproduced by any modern enchanters. If seeing this war won offered the chance of studying under gods again and being able to market god-forged items? That would be like finding the the world-forge, the star-hammer and possessing the pair without starting a war.

As talk turned to lighter topics the pocket of his dragon-hide jacket buzzed, breaking him out of daydreams of being able to make legendary weapons like Caladbolg, Ghrunir, Excalibur or the Luet of Celtchar. Morphing back to human form George flipped the mirror out of his pocket and open.

"Hey, Ange, what's up?"

On the other end of the enchanted mirror his wife grinned. "Thought you might like to see today's prophet." she replied with a giggle. The redhead read the front page and smirked.

"Scandal at Malfoy Manor. Lord Malfoy, who was supposed to speak today before the wizengamont about his concerns over the legality of various products being sold by world renown inventor George Weasley, has disappeared. When reporters showed up at the manor looking for the missing politician Lord Malfoys wife, Astoria Malfoy ne Greengrass was caught red-handed trying to dispose of nights dalliance with a female muggle. To make matters worse, neither Lord Malfoy nor their son Scorpius could be found for comment."

The article went on for the rest of the page and two more with information about the investigation into Weasleys Wizarding Wheezes, the disappearance of Lord Malfoy and his son, what results Astoria's affair might have on the entire situation and a rather detailed history of blood magic, its uses and why it was banned.

"Speaking of the ban" Angelina spoke up, her voice slightly more serious, but no less amused "your lobby succeeded in repealing it in the ICW just last week. Apparently it's use throughout South America, Africa and Southeast Asia has been an open secret since the ratification of the bill. Minister Kingsley expressed his concerns with me while I was posing as you last session of the wizengamont, but your various business allies in the neutral houses have been making Draco fight for his suit." She hesitated for a moment before continuing. "Regardless of the repeal though, you're going to be facing a battle when you get back selling those things. Most blood magic still in use is curses, spirit binding and demon summoning. Seems despite the ban the darker elements of our world just didn't want to give up such a potent tool."

"Makes sense" George replied nodding "the cultists Harry fought in Qatar was what got me researching the field in the first place. How's Fred?"

Angelina smiled. "Sulking, just like the last time you went on a business trip to Rome and stayed there for two months arguing patents with the Doge."

"The guy was a bleedin prick!" George moaned, exasperated at the mere memory. "What was I supposed to do, hand over my recipes and diagrams because I hadn't paid the proper bribes?"

Angelina giggled. "It probably didn't help that you called him... what was it again, a greasy obsequious poofter who's animagus form was likely a pregnant sow?"

"The guy was five hundred pounds, more arrogant than Malfoy and demanding forty percent of my profits." George deadpanned. "Magic burns fat like nothing else, you've seen how much we eat compared to the muggles we know, do you have any idea how much you have to eat to get that fat as a wizard? Professor Slughorn is only three twenty and hes always stuffing down candied pineapple and french wine."

On the other side of the mirror the black woman held up her hands in submission, still twitching from poorly suppressed giggles. "All right, all right, you made your point last time and it was funny then too. Doesn't change the fact that you could have been done in a week if you'd just played nice and paid the original bribes in the first place."

There was a comfortable silence for a moment before George spoke up again. "So, anything funny happen at headquarters recently?"

Angelina smirked. "Well..." They talked this way for the rest of the trip.

~! #$%^&*()_+

Tyrande stood over the charred bodies of Kazzak and Yor'gol, her priestesses landing beside her, and knocked a quill against her bow. Somehow, despite their bodies being charred by holy fire that covered most of their skin the creatures were still alive... if only barely. It was time to correct that mistake. A short, steady hail of brilliant enchanted bolts filled the heads of each of the beasts until they stopped twitching and the extremities turned to ash. There was no cheering this time, no battle cries, each bolt had been loosed with the somber fury of an execution. Tyrande had left the battle in the south with twenty two other priestesses, friends and personal students all. Now, beside her in the wind torn, frozen and charred aftermath of the battle there stood only 12.

Had she the bodies of her sisters in arms the situation might have been different, but those who had any remains left unincinerated by the unholy firestorm were mere bodyparts left over from the savage fury of the swarm that had followed the four generals. There would be no prayers to Elune offering them the choice of resurrection... there simply wasn't enough left. Instead Tyrande prayed, as did the survivors with tears in their eyes, that the spirits of their dead sisters had at least not been defiled and had managed to make it to the afterlife beside their goddess.

"Consecrate the land" the High Priestess ordered once everyone had recovered "I want nothing left of them but ash. The land with recover this devastation, see to it that they do not." The priestesses nodded and took up positions in a circle around the bodies, chanting as they went, their bodies beginning to glow with a silvery blue light as shafts of moonlight pierced the clouds left behind by the attack. Tyrande on the other hand had something else to do. With a swift prayer to Aviana wings of pure light coalesced upon her shoulders once more and the High Priestess' back. With slow powerful strokes, the new appendages bore the navy haired elf aloft.

It was a short flight to where Illidan stood atop the body of Zhaha'dun. Both of the living legends stood there, bleeding heavily from dozens of wounds, but as Tyrande approached it was the doom lord who fell to his hands an knees, the wounds he has suffered finally taking their toll. Judging by the warglaive Azinoth sticking out of the monsters back this was even the real Zhaha'dun and not one of the many tricks of the deceivers right hand agent. As Tyrande landed softly nearby, her childhood friend pulled out what looked to be a shattered glass orb.

"Illidan?" Tyrande asked, her voice edged in worry and anger. "What is that?"

Under the dark elve's hands the orb began to glow with a stormy red and white light. "Orb of Thesula" the former demon hunter returned. "An artifact given to me by Shan'do Harry." As Tyrande watched streamers of blood from Zhaha'dun's body began to rise from where they were desecrating the earth to flow into the orb and what Tyrande had believed to be the cooling corpse of the demon lord began screaming as an afterimage of the whole and healthy monster began to fight its way out. There was a ripple of black light and the sound was suddenly contained within a translucent membrane of energy.

"The orb is a demon cage, much like that given to the goddess pandora." Illidan explained calmly as his power lashed out to wrestles with the fighting spirit of the greater demon. "Shan'do Harry said it was made for him by a group of priests in Transylvania when he passed it on to me and its how I intend to control my... ah, less favored habits." he explained as the body of his foe turned to ash, it's magic and soul having been finally torn completely from their bindings.

As the two opponents struggled with each other Tyrande contemplated calling upon her power as the high priestess to simply vanquish the spirit before Illidan could trap it for later consumption, but eventually sighed and turned away. She was still stinging from the loss of her students and more than ever wanted the agents of the Legion to suffer.

"You're certain this magic will clear away all the nearby corruption?" Tyrande asked.

The horned elf nodded. "I've used this tool to clean up after other previous attacks by the Legion. Their magic always leaves a mess of the area if I don't. Takes the druids centuries to make the land safe again otherwise and they usually have corrupted monsters running around the area during the interim. I'll see that this area's cleared." He looked around for a moment, allowing Zhaha'dun to slip a little further out of the orb his spirit was currently being crushed into "although, from the look of things, whatever you did with that last attack pretty much took care of the corruption all on its own..!"

Tyrande nodded as Illidan resumed his efforts to trap the demon within his glass ball. "Holy nova." She said in explanation. "I gave prayers to Elune and each of her children to bless an arrow I was aiming at Kil'jaden" she spat the name. "Unfortunately he managed to escape somewhere in between prayers."

With a snap the doom lord was consumed by the orb in her friends hands and the heavily mutated elf became intensely serious. "He escaped?!" Illidan swore profusely and Tyrande nodded at the explicative's.

"We had not expected to encounter the Deceiver this soon" she allowed "It was not till weeks into the actual war that his brother attacked Suramar and he himself never left the Azshara's pallace for the actual field of battle. I admit to being unprepared." She looked over to where the growing shaft of brilliant moonlight was turning the other two doomlords to ash. "Still. Three out of four, and generals all..."

They were denied chance to further their conversation by the presence of their patron within their minds. I have heard your prayers, my right and left hands the gentle voice of the mother moon spoke, causing their bones to vibrate with the weight of its presence. The pantheon and I awaken. Proceed to Hyjal, my open hand, we have much to prepare and little time in which to do so. And you, my closed fist, proceed to Wintergrasp. The pawns of the legion spread corruption and death upon its slopes and I would see their defilement come to a swift end. Take the webwood path rather than flying there direct, an army gathers near the Ursol burrow, there you shall meed up with the brothers before proceeding to cleanse the Wintergrasp.

With that the divine presence receded to its usual gentle touch at the edge of their minds. The pair of priests looked at each other.

"It seems we have our assignments." Illidan said with a smirk, his wings already stretching in preperation for flight.

The blue haired elf queen nodded. "Indeed we do."

~! #$%^&*()_+

Crouched atop the crags of the southern most isle of the Azurmist chain Onyxia and Alexstraza glared at each other. While rather hard to imagine how anyone could glare through the closed dreaming eyes that kept the black princess' madness in check, the large black dragoness somehow managed to do just that.

"I'd warn you about trespassing" the red queen hissed, teeth bared and flames flickering in her maw with each word "but directing such comments at a known egg thief seems somewhat redundant. Why are you here, Onyxia?"

The ebon behemoth snarled in return at the jibe, but let it pass. She had more important things to deal with at present. "I was looking for a human, one I had on good authority was here recently. I approached your new nest after sensing your taint on the city to the north." She paused. "Odd that. I had been certain I knew all of Dalaran's dealings. Them forming an entire kingdom and keeping it hidden from my network of spies was... disquieting."

Alexstraza snorted, her right forepaw gripping the mountain ridge and causing plants to bloom across it's surface in her agitation. "Disquieting is hearing you talk of taint as if you're not intimately familiar with the concept" the Aspect of Life shot back before subsiding. "As to the city," she snorted "they built that in a week."

Onyxia stiffened, eyes almost opening from their enchanted seal in disbelief. A week! "The red haired traveler, he was responsible for this?"

"George?" Alexstraza asked, surprised. "After a fashion, I suppose. He brought them to the island and convinced me to take a somewhat more active role in its existence than I would normally."

Onyxia smiled. Building cities in a week and parleying with the Aspects! He was indeed an impressive specimen. "Tell me where I can find him now and I will leave your eggs and young entirely undisturbed" she offered eagerly. The hunt was closing, and would end soon if she had anything to say about it.

Alexstraza bristled at the suggestion that the black might touch any of her children, but she recognized the madness and earnestness in her opponents demeanor and decided that while erring on the side of caution was the obvious choice she could still help the black somewhat. George had taken her down before and with her current mannerism's it seemed doubtful the lovestruck behemoth would be an Immediate danger to the redhead. Besides, it might be amusing to watch the black's attempts to woo the human.

"George Weasley left with Dalaran several days ago to visit the human fortification in the mountains to the southeast, on the continent. Stone Talon I believe it was called." She faked an appropriate hesitation before continuing. "I'm not sure why I'm bothering with this, but niece, take care. The elves are much stronger than you likely remember. Time flexes around them and they are becoming more dangerous than you remember."

The princess of the blacks, oldest surviving daughter of Neltharion and brood mother of the black dragonflight, nodded graciously and left in a swirl of wings and thrusting stone. "George..." she heard the child mutter as she left. Onyxia didnt even seem to notice the tracking spell which the Red Queen has slipped on her horned frill as she passed by.

As the black dragon slowly disapeared into the horizon the sound of movement came from behind Alexstraza and the crimson wyrm smiled.

"What was all that about, love?" Korailstraz asked, voice bemused.

"Something very dramatic and doubtlessly amusing." she muttered in reply, gaze still fixed on the point at which Onyxia had disappeared. After several minutes of companionable silence the red queen spoke again. "How go the preparations for the new nest?"

Given something concrete to talk about her consort launched into explanation. "Surprisingly well, actually. Anveena's judge of character is quite exemplary and she's found a number of trustworthy mortals to assist in the design and excavation. Each of the tunnels are sized for the easy passage of two aspect class dragons should you decide to invite Ysera or Malecgyos over. There are currently nine egg chambers each filled with newly designed incubator columns. There is room for 1000 in each chamber and the Dalarani mages are taking great deal of care to enchant them to moniter the health and condition of each egg as well as the temperature, heartbeat and shell movement. With the information we gave them on blood magic and their own knowledge the chambers and central forum are warded strong enough that even deathwing might be killed should he attempt to breach our new sanctum without invitation. And they should only become more potent as our numbers grow and partners are found for each hatchling."

He paused at this point and looked at her. "Love, are you sure you want to proceed with this particular plan?"

Alexstraza smiled and turned toward him. "Yes" she said simply. It was sweet, his concern and careful nature, but Harry and George had been right when last the four of them spoke. The flights were dying out. Their immortality and lofty sense of inflated self-worth had seperated them from the world for too long. At the dawn of the aspects the five flights and oh so many others had blackened the skies, their numbers equal to or even outweighing the populations of the titans mortal creations. Now there were one, maybe two, dozen red dragons old enough to be sentient left on the entire planet and the blues were not much better off. The green flight hadn't grown in thousands of years and rarely left their slumbering vigil over the emerald dream and the time warders... well, nobody quite knew what they did anymore even back before the Legions first invasion as rare as it was to see one, letalone get the time warders to stick around and speak in something other than riddles.

Of all of them the flight that seemed to be doing the best was the Blacks, and the former earth wardens had a nasty habit of killing each other with astonishing regularity as they strove to control, build and destroy mortal civilization. There were ten thousand black dragons, most of them hatchlings, at last she cared to search for them through her link as Aspect of Life and even that was pitiful in comparison to the number they had once held. Even in their arrogance at Grim Batol before the Horde had decimated their flight they had still only numbered in the tens of thousands. The health of the plant and animal life on the planet were directly related to the health of the red flight, she knew that, the titan Eonar had told her as much when she'd given Alexstraza her blessing. Further, despite the killing of the willful or malformed hatchlings and the many deaths her flight had sustained in battle as beasts of the Horde, the sad truth of it was that there had been more successful hatchings under those monsters in twenty years than there had been in the last two thousand under her own reign. If the same results could be achieved under the auspices of those she herself could vet and impress the proper care and value of her whelps... the dragon flights could be truly reborn in more than name alone. Harry had already expressed an interest in gathering her the eggs of blues and blacks for this same plan... It could just work! Onyxia already seemed devoted to George given what she had been able to tell in their encounter, the only thing left was to survive this war and start finding those who could be worthy.

"Accompany me, my consort." Alexstraza murmured, turning away. "We have much to do."

~! #$%^&*()_+

Kil'Jaden growled softly as he scratched runes into the skull of one of his former lieutenants. Gul'dan had been one of his favorite in recent centuries, a twisted monster of a mortal even before the titanic eradar had begun teaching him, Gul'dan had quickly tired of the teachings of his shaman brothers and sisters and sought to control the elements of Draenor rather than parley and negotiate with them. Where he had found it necessary to trick Ner'zul into his service, Gul'dan had joined willingly, eagerly and quickly taken command from his teacher when the older orc had finally realized what the legion was doing. Gul'dan and his shadow council had been the true power behind the Horde's conquest of Draenor, of the corruption of the Orcish people and the near victory over this most frustrating of worlds.

But then, the slimy little weasel had done what was ingrained into his nature, and betrayed his master again. Betrayed HIM.

At the suggestion of Medhiv, during one of the mans lucid moments, Gul'dan had abandoned the Horde with all of his warlocks and personal troops. This single act doomed the invasion and allowed Azeroth to recover, defeat the Legions vanguard and necessitated the creation of the Lich King.

And why had Gul'Dan done this? Had he grown a conscience? Had he realized who he had enslaved his people too? Had he gone native and gained some small appreciation for this world or remorse for the one he had destroyed and committed genocide on? No, It was none of those. The reason Gul'Dan had betrayed him was far simpler than that... He had gotten greedy. Medhiv had told him where to find the fallen body of the Legion's Titan Master, Sargeras. Gul'Dan had abandoned the Horde and raised the Island it was entombed on for the simple purpose of draining the blood and magic of the titans body and becoming a god among the Legion, equal to or even above that of himself, Archimonde and the Nathreziem ruling council.

The fool had been slaughtered. Between the Naga thralls of the elder gods, the Sytar thralls of the Legion and the warped monstrosities who had already fed off the body of the titan... that half of the Horde, the truly powerful part of their numbers, had perished to the last man. And thus awaits the sin of greed, for those who take but do not earn, must pay most dearly in their turn. Now Gul'Dan, like Ner'Zul, had faced the tortures and rending of the remains of his soul under Kil'Jaden's claws and would serve a similar purpose in the conquest of this world. The Orc Warlock's spirit, bound to his own runecarved skull, would act as a focus from which all magic on Azeroth would be drawn in and converted to the demonic taint on which the Legion fed.

As he finished carving the last runes into the bone he set the skull down on the slopes of webwood rise and ordered the remnants of his latest army to guard it against the natives. The skull would be instrumental in penetrating the moonglade crater at the northern tip of the continent and assaulting Elune herself. Archimonde's plan to consume the world tree and the well of eternity below it was only a stepping stone in the conquest of this world. An important one perhaps, but a stepping stone none the less. The true goal depended on the death of each of the celestials that infested this world and the Legion's consumption of the elder gods themselves. Seven beings who's dead power was enough to darken stars. Kil'Jaden could only drool in anticipation at the thought of what the Legion could accomplish were it added to their own living swarm!

Most importantly himself and the other commanders, of course.

Setting the skull down, he raised a fortress of earth and arcane traps around it and left. There was so much left to do. No plan ever survived contact with the enemy, that was why there were contingency plans. And Kil'Jaden was the master of contingency plans.

~! #$%^&*()_+

Varian Wyrnn looked at the reports on his desk and frowned. With the rebellion quelled and the nobles for it gone things had been going well. Graft was down and with it the competency and size of the forces under his command had gone up. The gnoll and khobold population across the Elwynn region were being taken well in hand and with them the primary mining operations were supplying the kingdom with iron, copper and far more importantly, gold. With the influx of Iron the smiths had had more material to work with at lower prices. That meant more weapons and armor available to the army, the guard and sell-swords at cheaper prices and more money for the smiths and their apprentices to buy rare materials and make even better armor for much better prices. Between his armed forces and the sell-swords Redridge was had been reclaimed from the orcs and gnoll was on the menu while in Duskwood the spider was the dish of choice and the ogers were being forced into a major corner.

That was actually what was making him frown. The Vol'gul ogres, great warbeasts of the first invasion known for shattering the lines of the defenders during that four year struggle... weren't attacking. With the death of their warlord Zarc'vul and several of their elders in an ambush at the vast Yorgen Orchard Varian and his generals had been expecting them to reorganize under a younger, more impetuous, chief and start raiding again, allowing the heroes of the nights watch, their mercenary brothers and the contingent of Stromwind troops to finish them off, finally clearing the pass to the alliance holdings in the Stranglethorn Jungle to the south.

Instead a pair of ten foot tall, very human looking mountain men walked into the valley containing the ogre mound and things had been quiet ever since.

In order to discover what was going on he had sent the young captain Mathias Shaw, grandson of his Master of Information and up and coming assassin to delve into the area and find out what was going on. The young man was now due to return with his information. As Varian continued to lean over the reports on the table the hair on the back of his neck stood on end and he swiftly turned around, drawing his sword. The tip stopped mere centimeters from the throat of a short, unassuming 203 year old man.

"Shaw" the king said calmly lowering his blade. "You know I don't like people sneaking up on me. My father was killed by an assassin he trusted after all. I have no intention of making that a family tradition."

The brown haired spy smiled. "It's always good to know my king trusts me" he quipped "that makes it so much easier to ensure I'm paid properly."

Varian snorted. "Tell me what you have learned."

The captain nodded and tossed what looked like a roll of deer skin on the table. "The chief of the Ogre's wants to talk peace." Catching his kings expression he continued, unrolling the leather. "I know, right? Apparently the new chief and his sister, name of Gurg and Krant, are half-ogre. Turns out not all of the women who were taken during the ogre raids of the first war were eaten. A fair few of them impressed the brutes enough with their spirit and determined resistance that they were kept and raped. Gurg and Krant are two of ninety surviving children of these women. They look pretty much like overlarge humans and are build like brick shit houses. I've literally never seen so many muscles on a woman who wasn't a dwarf and her brother is even worse."

Mathias massaged his shoulders and winced before continuing. "They're also experienced hunters and have a thing for large stealthy cats. Grabbed me up despite every trick I knew and then took me to their mound, the chiefs sleeping area. Asked me why they shouldn't kill me for trespassing and then started talking deals."

Varian had, at this point, sheathed his sword and was massaging his chin. "What sort of deals and why do they imagine I would consider accepting them?"

"According to them?" Mathias asked, gesturing at the now unrolled skins. Varian looked closer at the lot of them and saw that the brown stains on the fur-less side was rather clumsy common. He read them slowly as the Assassin and spy captain continued to talk "The Mok'dannog, or sons of men as it apparently means, have been observing the civilizations of Azeroth for the chieftains of the Ogres. Freed from the oppression of people called Gron, who were their masters before the Horde, and the shadow council of Gul'Dan the Ogre clans abandoned the Horde in droves and spread out to the hills and unsettled places between kingdoms. The new chief of duskwood and his family took a particular interest in you, sire. Ogre's admire endurance, honor, strength and cunning in that order and these two think you're very honorable."

Varian looked up sharply to see his spy captain smirking at him. "As well they should..." the king grumbled, turning back to the rolled skins. "Assuming I'm understanding this... scrawl they want peace, land, employment and deliveries of food and weapons."

Shaw nodded. "They don't really expect you to sign any of these, but from what they said when they literally tossed me out of the burrow, they're hoping for at least non-aggression and are even willing to join the stormwind army if you'll agree to treat them right. They are however well entrenched, have a lot of food and mages and would be quite content with a war should all else fail."

Varian stood there staring at the rolled up leathers for some time before speaking again. "What were your impressions of them? I'm assuming you had some time to snoop around before these two grabbed you."

"Well..." he replied "as I said, they're well entrenched. If you wanna get them out its either gonna cost you a big payout to the guild over the course of several weeks to clear out the cave system and I can't guarantee you more than half of us will survive, or you're gonna need to get a lot of mages to flood the place with fire or water. Regular flooding won't do it, they've got plenty of mages themselves and even an underground river where they take their drinking water from so just diverting a river in there won't do it and the place is filled with steam pits so fire will be hard going. Close quarters in tunnels that look like they were made by an insane giant rabbit... I doubt your men will have much luck driving them out. If they do it will be a serious war of attrition."

He sighed through his nose, brow furrowed in thought. "As to their temperament... Well I didn't really have much chance to observe them and don't have a lot of experience with ogre's to tell you more, but talking to your older veterans and their new chieftain I can tell you ogre's are stubborn. Get them to agree to something and it'll be like shaking off a crockalisk. I can't really say what would get them to agree to something though or what it would take to overcome the prejudices between our two races. The war left a lot of bad blood as I'm sure you're the last person who needs to be told." Stripping off both gloves he scratched his head vigorously. "I'm not real good with the whole politics thing sire, but if I had to say anything I'd offer that you agree to non-aggression, deny the rest and hire them out on an ogre by ogre basis as laborers and mercenaries. That's what worked with the trolls up north in Lorderan when we weren't busy killing each other."

Varian nodded slowly. "Stubborn and honorable you say? And these Mok'dannog?"

"Smarter, faster, a little smaller and even more pigheaded apparently." Mathias replied nodding.

"Right." The king sighed. "I'll discuss it with Tiffin and my advisers tomorrow. Be there at noon to recount your report." He grabbed a piece of parchment and a fountain pen. Scratching out a message in large block letters, much slower than his usual flowing penmanship, he handed a folded note to the spy.

"Have one of your men take this to Gurg. Have them bring a freshly slaughtered pig as well, less chance of being eaten and starting a fight before things have been decided. Hopefully this matter will go smoother than Jaina's troop requests. Apparently the Horde followed her across the sea."

The spy nodded, not envying his kings duties. With that, the pair of them parted ways.

~! #$%^&*()_+

Thrall stood at the head of his people as the portal between Hyjal and the charred vale opened before him and smiled grimly. It had only been a few days since the battle on the savanna, but the human raised orc felt he would rather face that again that sit another day as the guest of the alliance. Though Jaina had proven herself honorable both with the escape her army had offered his people and the relative hospitality of the time since there was still enough bad blood between the Orcs and the alliance races to set his teeth on edge and make his tusks ache. What really galled him though was that the soldiers and civilians made a point of being openly friendly to the tauren and cautiously neutral to Vol'Jin and his people while simultaneously sending dark, mistrustful looks at the orcs and spitting whenever one of his people passed.

Under any other circumstances he could deal with that. It was no less than he had grown up with, it was no less than his people expected from humans and the orcs were quite happy to take issue with it and settle things with a quick brawl and similar displays of disgust. The problem he had was that the puny humans, elves and dwarves were doing it specifically to drive a wedge between him and his newest friends and allies of the Horde. There was a deep running disdain between the trolls and the elves he did not quite understand and the Tauren at least seemed to understand what was going on, but the sooner he was away from this place the better.

As if to give credence to his worries the orc Warchief was able to watch Cairne Bloodhoof shaking hands with the human Paladin leader Duke Lionhart, a significant fraction of the Tauren forces raising their spears and begin moving up the hill towards the human settlement, full packs on their backs. Hiding his anxiety Thrall waited patiently as Cairne made his way over to the hill from which he watched the three races of the new Horde troop through the night elves portal.

"What was that all about?" he asked as calmly as he could manage.

"The human shaman is touched by the spirit of An'she, as are many of his tribe mates." Cairne rumbled. "The tauren worship Mu'sha, his sister; as do the night elves, as the left eye of the earth mother, our creator and guide. Given the chance to strike a balance with the worship of the right eye as well, we would feel remiss to simply walk away." He paused and seemed to look through Thrall before smiling. "Do not worry war-chief. The Tauren do not abandon their friends and the orcs have indeed proven themselves friends of the tribes." With that he walked off again, through the portal and out of sight, leaving the young warchief to his worries.

That thrall felt safer and more at home as he too crossed through the portal into the night elven holy land of Hyjal summit was ironic as despite his assistance in its defense in the timeline that never was, he would still have faced a great deal of anger and distaste for that visit and many to come for his races desecration and dismemberment of the god Cenarius perpetrated by his people. Most particularly, by his idol, friend and noted mentor, the unrepentant Grom Hellscream. Thrall's insistence that the man was a hero had tainted the hordes relationship with the night elves well into the future despite many overtures of peace and offers of business made by the green humanoids towards their purple neighbors.

This time they received food, armor, weapons crafted of enchanted ironwood and warm, if grim nods in appreciation of their willingness to sacrifice themselves bearing arms at the sides of people they didn't know.

Thrall and the other orc chieftains moved about in a mild state of shock as they were led down beneath the roots of the truly gigantic tree which stood on mere roots that each alone could provide lumber to build and heat an entire city. ...If attempting to do so would not immediately see them slaughtered by the furious caretakers and inhabitants of the mountain races. Above them flying elves and great ursine owl'beasts swooped and dove like hawks, doing battle with more of the winged monsters which had assaulted the Horde in days past and as the warchiefs were led towards the command lodge by a glimmering lake corpses would occasionally fall smoking to the ground nearby. The warchief listened quietly to the shaman comment on how the presence of the great tree seemed to weaken and even attack the demons all on its own and how they were releaved its presence felt cleansing against their powers rather than harmful as many of them had feared. The return to shamanism from the path of the warlock was still a recent one and the wounds ran deep within the soul of their people.

They had been right to worry.

While not inherently dangerous to the warlocks, the waters that fed the tree had been constantly and ritually blessed by the resurgent priestess-hood of Elune for the last ten thousand years and made the tree exude an aura that caused very obvious discomfort to demons and those still thrall to them alongside weakening their powers dramatically. In the case of the undead, many of the deathknights and members of the cult of the damned who had tried to infiltrate the crater beneath the trees roots with the humans had even begun smoking as they approached the tree. While the reaction again did not hurt them, they were weakened and the smoke was a very obvious sign that something was up and the infiltrators were quickly detained and killed.

The Orcs and their leaders were quickly quartered across the slopes of the mountain and Thrall and his fellow chiefs brought to council with Shandris Feathermoon at the central lodge. Given the Orcs inability to fly and the short supply of flying vehicles in the distant Dalaran the places where the Orcs could be deployed was limited, as was their mobility and the talks went on well into the night. It was eventually decided that the Orcs would be sent primarily to Wintergrasp to offer relief to the ongoing battle with the scourge forces there and to set up a series of garrisons moving down the spiral slopes of the mountain itself in case the Legions ground troops were successful in forcing any sort of retreat.

~! #$%^&*()_+