A Brave New World (In Character, Closed)

World’s End Tavern: Role-play and Fan Fiction
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High Arcanist George Hogan was openly thrilled when he heard about his next task, nearly knocking over a precarious stack of books piled next to his desk. “I assure you, Lord Fernand, I won’t disappoint you.”

Windsor smirked; the mage was loyal to him beyond a shadow of doubt. While Janelle seemed apathetic to who was in power, therefore not devoted to one leader or the other and never willing to keep a secret, it wasn’t very difficult to see George’s interest in politics, contrary to the man’s insistence that he only wished to master the arcane arts. The Arcanist might have been a potential threat, and Windsor was glad that he was under his thumb.

George’s mind was doing backflips, thinking of different topics at the same time. “The Trade Princess has been trying to get us to clear out Oshu’gun for ages, is my lord finally caving in? No, it’s more likely that she’s allowed him to do something in turn. Windsor isn’t very hard to please, so long as he has fresh blood on his blade. Are they going to attack Haala? That might not end well…

“Oh, but what wonders we’ll discover in Oshu’gun! Naaru technology is said to be some of the most advanced in the Great Dark and beyond, second only to the Titans’ and the Burning Legion’s. At least as far as I know. I wonder what we’ll find, though. Has it already been cleared out, or will there be more in store for us?”

Leaving the High Arcanist to his thoughts, Lord Windsor exited the building, leaving the Mystic’s district with a small train of casters behind him, and made his way to the Military district. For easily the thousandth time since meeting them on Kalimdor, Windsor cursed the goblins. They were short, loud, and all of their devices polluted the air with scents that burned his nose. The tiny creatures had been renovating Telaar and the surrounding areas since their arrival, adding to old buildings and building new ones.

The Mystic’s district was set at the base of Windsor and Nikki’s center of command where they slept, ate, argued and planned. The Eagle’s Perch- the hippogryph’s stabling area- was at what used to be the top of the tower, now roughly two thirds of the way up and mostly indoors. Windsor’s quarters were on the same level, while Nikki’s were higher up, the map room itself perched atop the whole thing, easily identifiable by its enormous windows.

The district around their tower held the upper areas of Telaar, while the Military district was in the center of their capital. It took Windsor and the casters following him a few minutes to reach the Military district, where he began gathering the troops for the two separate missions.


Meanwhile, the Trade Princess walked through the Shadow Caverns, the residence of many rogues and warlocks. It had originally been a mine, inside of the hills that Telaar was based on. However, when structural soundness of the city came into question- not to mention the discovery of and ore-rich mine in the mountains south of Telaar- the mine was abandoned. It didn’t stay empty for long, and soon enough, warlocks began practicing their foul demon magics within, while rogues performed their shady dealings out of the public eye.

Normally, it would’ve been unsafe for a woman to walk alone in the Shadow Caverns, but Nikki was Trade Princess, a role respected by all goblins in Telaar, and she trusted Windsor to keep his worgen in check. The meeting with Janele had gone well enough, the High Priestess graciously accepting her offer. While Nikki knew that the woman wasn’t loyal to her- or really anything but the Light- she’d become a person the Trade Princess could trust to do things well.

Soon enough, the goblin reached her destination; a large building dug into the cave walls that housed an innumerable number of rogues, as well as the occasional civilian, doing their foul deed of the day. Nikki pulled her embroidered purple hood forward, attempting with some success to blend in to the crowds of people. She made her way to the back of the building, climbing a set of stairs that took her to an office of sorts.

Spymaster Fritz stood from his chair when he saw her, recognizing her apparel immediately. “Trade Princess, what brings ya out this way?”

Nikki cast off her hood and rolled her eyes. “Ya know exactly why I’m here,” she replied. Fritz’s ears seemed to droop slightly, his eyes downcast.

“I’m sorry, Princess, but he was gonna rip off my ears and tear out my throat!” he exclaimed with a shiver. Nikki sighed.

“I hadn’t expected him to get fed up so quickly; we always fight about our next move. But next time this happens, ya wait for my go-ahead, got it? I can do way worse than rip ya ears off.” The lamps in the room seemed to dim, shadows collecting around the Spymaster. He shivered. “But…” she went on. “I can’t really blame ya. It’s easy to forget that we’re dealing with humans here, with the fangs and all. I’ve even lost my cool one or twice. “

Her underling seemed reluctant to give a response, but Nikki didn’t wait for one.

“He’s not beyond reason yet, but at this rate, I’ll have to move a lot fasta than I thought. I want this thing to last as long as I can get it, because tempas aside, these worgen are damn useful. Anyway, I’ve got a mission for ya,” she announced, changing the subject.

“What kinda mission?” Fritz asked, meeting her eyes again.

“I need ya ta take a look at the Legion Forge Bases with you and ya spies. Think ya can handle that without makin’ too much of a rukus?” Fritz nodded eagerly.

“Sure thing, boss,” he said.

Turning to leave, Nikki took a few steps before speaking to him over her shoulder. “Oh, and I want ya to intermix worgen and goblin on this mission. It’s time us two races got to know each other a bit betta.”

The Spymaster personally questioned the wisdom of this decision; every worgen he brought was another set of ears at the Lord’s disposal. What was Nikki playing at? But Fritz made no comment, and the Trade Princess left his office, pulling up her hood as she lightly stepped down the stairs.


The next day, Nikki and Windsor stood in the map room, overlooking the gathered troops stationed just outside the city. The Lord was dressed in plate armor from his head to his feet, an enormous claymore on his back. The worgen had wielded large blades for much of his life, and his worgen transformation had only developed his skill with them. With the enormous sword, he could prove a deadly adversary in any fight.

The Trade Princess wore less elegant robes than usual, but to any attuned to the arcane, every inch of her clothing hummed with enchantments. In her left hand she held a silver staff with a polished piece of obsidian floating at the end. The staff was almost taller than her, but she held it with a familiarity. While Nikki was well versed in the arts of protecting her allies from damage, she was also a deadly shadow caster, manipulating the senses and summoning shadows to take away life just as easily as her light brought it forth.

No words were exchanged, the two leaders nodding curtly to each other before heading to their respective troops. Before long, Windsor had moved to the head of his army and began leading them east to Kil’Sorrow Fortress. Meanwhile Nikki walked amongst the other casters, a prayer of light gracing every soldier present. They began their march west to Oshu’gun, uncertain of what lay within.

Highlord Ithalin Frosthand

I could tell Andar was staring at me again. By the direction his helm was pointed in, it would seem to anybody besides myself and Corbar that he was looking at the man groveling at my feet. But I could tell he was staring at me, studying me. My attention was jerked back to the man at the base of my throne when he began sobbing again. I rubbed my temple, feeling the saronite crown with sapphires inlaid into it weighing down my forehead. I heard somebody laughing in my head. No king rules forever, Ithalin.
SILENCE!, I commanded Balastraz. "Wretch."

The man ceased his sobbing and looked up at me, terror in his eyes. "M-My lord?" He began to quiver and shake. I grow tired of dealing with these.....tiresome problems. Perhaps I should create a small sub-council......

"Wretch, stand up." After he had arisen, I continued, "Why do you cry and beg me for more farmland?" He seemed confused, and responded after clearly trying to see if my response had hidden meaning.

"W-Well my most gracious lord, you have made yourself head of land distribution....." I frowned, and the man began to take steps backward, fearing my displeasure. I chuckled and leaned forward.

"That is not what asked you. I asked you WHY you ask. Has your family expanded? Do you wish to earn more coin? Explain yourself, my patience grows thin." He fell to his knees once again, looking up at me but avoiding eye contact.

"My wife has recently born twins, increasing my total amount of children to 5, and I wish to feed them and earn the same amount of coins, my lord." I smiled at the man, and began to laugh. He joined in cautiously after a few moments.

"You may have two additional acres. In return, any of your children above the age of thirteen will be inducted into our armed forces. You are dismissed." The man gave me many thanks and continued to bow on his way out the doors. They slammed shut after he passed through them. I sighed and looked to Andar. "What is it?"

"My little birds alert me of movements near the temple. Nothing threatening to us, but we should keep it in mind." I nodded and turned to Corbar, my favorite of the pair.

"Do we have any news on the military front?" Corbar got up and began pacing the room. A bloodthirsty but tactical man, Corbar always considered every action carefully before taking it.

"Frosthand, I believe we should begin working on increasing the number of warlocks we have, as well as creating siege engines. Air power is also an important thing to consider." He turned to me, waiting for me to signal that I had digested his information. I nodded and he continued, "We should also begin sending diplomats to the Mag'Har and other non-fel orcs, as well as the ogres. They could prove invaluable in building our might." He returned to his seat and reclined in it. I turned my head to Andar. "Can you handle the diplomatic side of things?" He nodded his head and I walked to a table in the corner of the room. A map of the valley was spread across it. I motioned for Corbar to join me, and when he was next to me I pointed at Wildhammer point. "Do you think we can get in, grab ten gryphons, and get out?" He nodded, and a wild grin spread across my face. "Let the games begin gentlemen."
Actions taken:
Diplomats dispatched to Mag'Har, orcs, and ogres. 5 posts to complete.

Raiding party dispatched to Wildhammer point. 2 posts to compete.
Troops sent:5 troll druids, 10 human footmen. Zorbak, I'd like you to roll some dice for me. Above 50-They succeed without being noticed. Below 50-They are noticed and a fight breaks out. I'll figure out losses next post.

Off-Screen action-Miners strike vein of Fel Iron. 2 posts to mine and transport back to Death's Spire.

Quarry expansion-Due to the vein strike, quarry foreman begins expansion. 3 Posts to complete, +15 to any rolls to strike Fel Iron after completion.
Growth Cycle!

400 new Cult of the Damned Populace
10 new Auchenai Populace
500 new Burning Blade Populace

1000 new Mindless Skeletons wandering the Bone Wastes
500 new Mindless Spirits wandering the Bone Wastes

76 new Burning Blade Fanatics trained in Bleeding Hollow Clan
22 new Burning Blade Warlocks trained in Bleeding Hollow Clan
10 new Death Speakers within the Auchindoun

Death Energy Generated(250 Speakers): 630
600 new Skeletal Warriors animated within Auchindoun
30 new Skeletal Archers animated within Auchindoun

Completed Events:

[RESEARCH]: Death Speakers successfully uncovered tomb of magical artifacts and have begun outfitting newly risen dead with them. It takes slightly more necromantic energy to keep their bodies stable enough to channel magic, although through magical artifacts all Skeletal Magi have basic magical ability.
Reward: Skeletal Magi Growth

[N: Burning Blade Clan Ruins]: 600 Burning Blade Fanatics and 200 Burning Blade Warlocks successfully complete Rebuilding Burning Blade Clan in the Burning Blade Clan Ruins.
Reward: Established town of Burning Blade Clan. New Construction Options!

[N: Burning Blade Clan Ruins]: Small Party of Burning Blade Members arrived to Re-establish Communication with Kil’Sorrow Fortress.
Reward: 200 Kil’Sorrow Deathsworn + Kil’Sorrow Deathsworn Growth. Control of the fortified Kil’Sorrow Fortress.

[TF: Allerian Stronghold]: Mal’Zuur successfully performed Necromancy on 1100 Corpses in the centre of Allerian Stronghold.
Reward: 200 Corpses on Special Necromancy resulting in Bonelord Rime the Hero unit.
100 Corpses on Failed Necromancy leading to unusable results
500 Corpses on Lower Necromancy leading to Mindless Skeletons
300 Corpses on Successful Necromancy resulting in 200 Skeletal Warriors and 100 Skeletal Archers

[TF: Allerian Stronghold]: Bonechewer Reconciliation Team succeeded in Integrating Fel Orc Mogma into Bonechewer Clan.
Reward: Influence in Bonechewer Clan. Established Communications near Bonechewer Ruins.

Terokkar Forest: Auchindoun: Auchenai Crypts

With a great rumble, the large group of Death Speakers managed to dislodge the fallen rubble they had been working for the last several weeks. It had supposed to have been a secondary entrance to the Mana Tombs, but their theory had failed when their excavation of the rubble seemed to guide them in the wrong direction. Eventually, the final rock was cleared, and a medium-sized room was revealed to its victors.

Coating the walls were weapon racks full of golden, gemmed weapons and suits of armour hung like antiques, caked in dust. Several rows of tombs, inlaid with gold inscriptions and powerful gems and Draenic relics dominated the room. As they stepped inside a tomb cracked open, split, and then shattered apart, and from the rubble arose a skeleton garbed in regal gold and silver, with a glowing spectre in its hand and a circle of flame around its skull.

“Jackpot…” one of the Death Speakers muttered.

Terokkar Forest: The Bone Wastes: Northern Spirit Tower

The ash-storm had subsided, and each of the groups had reached the Spirit Towers of the Bone Wastes. The towers formed a semicircle around the city of Auchindoun, from the North-West around clockwise to the South-East. They however, were completely inert and mostly crumbled from disuse in previous years. The Death Speakers now led the Skeletal Warriors under their command in rebuilding them.

“Build my friends!” one announced, chanting a few words in tongues as each stone was laid, “Build them big and strong, proud testament to your strength! Let all know the masonry of the dead!”

The Mindless Dead of the Wastes would stop to watch for a time, and then keep wandering, aimless, lost, without purpose. The Death Speakers watched the lost souls with pity, in a previous age they led all dead to Auchindoun to gather, yet these days they were allowed to roam free in the Bone Wastes. One of the Death Speakers smiled, admiring how happy they looked. Yes, all Death Speakers are similar levels of insane.

Terokkar Forest: Allerian Stronghold: Mal’Zuur

Not a soul breathed in the Allerian Stronghold. The dead stood as silent sentinels around Mal’Zuur, watching and waiting. The sea of corpses almost dwarfed the Lich, and that was an incredibly impressive feat. Yet it was clear from the start, that the already starving bodies of the living were not ideal, and lots of damage had been done by overeager attacks. Yet, Mal’Zuur still keenly attempted his necromantic ritual.

He thrust out a hand, chains dangling down from his wrist, broken after a few links. A frost began to form between his fleshless fingers, slowly overcoming his hand and reaching down to his wrist. It was a blue ball of energy, similar to inside of his chest, yet it was frozen like ice, and rapidly melting in his grip. The energy dripped down upon the ground as the ball of energy grew in intensity, shaking more violently with every moment.

After an hour of silence, and nothing but concentrated energy, the action took place. Mal’Zuur dropped the frosty orb onto the pile of corpses, and it immediately exploded into a wave of icy water, which bled down through the piles into the ground. Each corpse begun to shake as it was touched by the ice. After another hour they begun to stir, moan, and shift around like a writhing pile of worms. Mal’Zuur continued this several times on other piles, most were not strong enough of will, too starved and hopeless to serve as proper warriors, and as mindless skeletons they wandered to the Wastes… always to the Wastes.

The final pile was of the desecrated remains, those not fit for soldiers nor fodder, those half-eaten, crushed or exploded. Mal’Zuur had a special plan for this pile. He repeated his ritual, now with verbal chanting to accompany it. These bodies were much more animated within the hour. They would shift around, flesh would strip and melt from the bones, the bones themselves would fall from one-another and adjust. Soon, it was clear something was being created from their remains.

“Arise! Bonelord Rime!” Mal’Zuur announced when his creation was finally complete. The other animated dead were now self-aware enough to see their latest addition. Bonehammer was a two-man high Skeleton, armoured with tattered scraps of leather, plate and mail, and leering hatefully down upon the minions before him. A fine captain for the army of the damned.

“Rime serves Mal’Zuur!” the creation immediately announced.

“Correct. Bonelord Rime. You shall lead my forces against the wretched stain of Tuurem! I task you with destroying the small crossroads town and establishing a new base of operations for the Hand of Mal’Zuur!”

Terokkar Forest: Bonechewer Ruins: Ruined War Hall

“BONECHEWER ANSWER TO NO-ONE!” roared the hellish inferno of current Bonechewer Chieftain Bakz, as he slammed his fist into a nearly-completely-broken-table and glared flaming daggers at Karshe’s chosen Fel Orc Mogma. The integration process was underway, but Fel Orcs were particularly difficult to reason with.

“Mogma know! Mogma no here for Shadow Council anymore! Mogma here to fight for Bonechewer!” Mogma slammed his fist into his chest, “Mogma want Bonechewer to restore Clan to former glory, destroy humans. New humans must die.”


Mogma laughed, this was just too easy, even for dumb Fel Orc. The Blood Elf and Cultists weren’t even necessary. When he could next easily patrol the grounds, he would give the signal that integration was successful, the rest of the group would remain in the mountains to the south of Bonechewer to both observe information, and to report it to Karshe.

Nagrand: North of Burning Blade Clan: Garokk and his forces

“Cult-Lord Garokk!” one of the persistent warlocks argued, “I should remind you, that we were informed to construct the harbour far to the east of here, closer to the Aldor Pass. We have travelled far too west, we are nearing…”

“The Ring of Trials!” Garokk grinned back, “I know where we were told to construct, but I am in charge of the Burning Blade in Nagrand, and I say that –there- is the ideal place!” Garokk shoved a finger towards the towering Ring of Trials. Due to recent geological movements it now stood half encircled by the immense eastern lake of Nagrand. If reports were correct, it could be sailed to the inland sea to the north.

“We begin construction of Garokk's Harbour today! Rarrgh!"

Nagrand: Burning Blade Clan

Fanatic Grug looked over the completed reconstruction of Burning Blade Clan and grinned. The Ogres had let it fall to ruin, their fat fingers and useless agenda had wasted the once beautiful town. It had now, from the valley to the mountains, been rebuilt to its former glory. Many flaming pikes were shoved into the ground, a great pyre was burning to celebrate, a feast of nearby wildlife was being consumed. The fires of old were burning once more.

“Raaaagh!” Grug roared, passionately, it was not put past any member of the Burning Blade to express his elation in such a way. Grug ran over to a nearby target dummy, they had set many up to hone their skills. Orcs without something to hit with a sword often hit each other. With a vicious yell, Grug stabbed his blade into the dummy.

A cheer rose up from the feast table, “Slay that target dummy!” a mocking shout rose.

“I’ll slay –you- in a minute Kruk!” Grug shouted, jokingly. “Actually, I might slay you in a minute if we don’t get something to do other than hard labour! I’m sick of sitting around while old bones in Terokkar gets all the fun! When do we get to test our blades?” another cheer rose up for the idle Orcs.

But suddenly a heavy fist broke down upon the table, and the largest Orc present stood up to speak. “We kill for the Shadow Council… and we shall do so when we are told by the Eye,” his words rung with finality, a silence descended upon the fanatics present. They seemed almost drained of enthusiasm.

“Until then!” the large Orc shouted, “I vote for a brawl!”

The silence was broken by a loud roaring cheer as the large Orc leapt up onto the table, charged down the line and tackled Grug into the ground. Within minutes the entire table had been flipped over, and fists were flying everywhere.

Nagrand: Kil’Sorrow Fortress

“You say the Shadow Council is once again in power?” The Kil’Sorrow Shadowlord mused, stroking his fingers delicately down the curtain he was standing beside. “This is pleasing, we have waited so long for orders that we have begun to whet our blades on the nearby Boulderfist Ogres. They prove little difficulty.”

“Our orders were to bring communication back to Kil’Sorrow. It is integral in the masters plan!” the Burning Blade Messenger spoke.

The two Orcs contrasted strongly against each other, one lithe, dark and calculated, while the other was green, muscular and twitchy. The Burning Blade were iconic of their serious anger management issues. The Kil’Sorrow were no Thrall-loving lambs, but they were more intelligent, and far more likely to plan a battle than their burning brothers.

“Set up a communication area within the tower, our warlocks will be able to aid you. There is not much going on around here, we should have uninterrupted reconstruction of the Fortress. A few Goblin towns have come to set up within the area, however they, as most Goblins are, are likely focused on trade.”

Terokkar Forest: Auchindoun: The Chamber of the Eye

“Bonechewer!” snapped Karshe’s assistant before slinking back into the shadows to allow her master to speak with the many sub-cults. The chamber filled once more with smoke, and Karshe once more narrowed her features as she awaited the visage of whatever no-name Blood Elf she had sent to the Bonechewer ruins. As long as Mal’Zuur hadn’t gotten her group killed, then they should have set up by now.

“Karshe!” the voice responded as soon as the smoke had settled, “I was wondering when you would call in.” The male Blood Elf’s smarmy grin was visible even through the smoke, “We’ve been set up for a day now, Mal’Zuur made good speed and the killing was done within the hour. Integration was nearly instantaneously successful. We’ll be kicking back and enjoying a nice view of reconstruction for the next several months until the plan unfurls.”

“I am pleased, Bardsorrow,” Karshe nodded, “I want the Bonechewer completely under Mogma’s thumb, take it slow if you must, but I want a fortress of Fel Orcs on the Shadowmoon border in no more than a year. Do what I trained you to do, and remain unnoticed, find a good view and watch not only the Bonechewer, but the passage into the Valley too.”

“All hail the Shadow Council!” Bardsorrow shouted, before disappearing as the smoke expanded throughout the room and then dispersed.

The basin was cleared, and once more the ritual was activated, this time the assistant dutifully cast the reagents into the basin aflame and announced, “Bleeding Hollow!” Smoke crawled into the air once more, and an Orc head, encompassing much more of the smoky portal than the Elf had, popped into existence.

“Mighty Karshe!” it spoke, a little less inflamed than Garokk’s voice, more of a low flame on a bed of hot coals, it was one of the warlocks of the Bleeding Hollow, “What is it you desire, our idle forces grow anxious to act!”

“That is precisely why I contact you, Murgok, I have a task for you and the remaining five-hundred Fanatics under your command,” Karshe spoke into the smoke, her lean features scrutinizing the worth of this newly appointed captain.

“Five-hundred and seventy!” he proudly corrected, “We’ve trained around twenty new warlocks too, like I said… we’re eager to get killing.”

“Good. Take your entire force and head north through the Bone Wastes,” Karshe watched his features fall when he realized he was not going to Nagrand. “You are to re-establish contact with the Shadow Council forces at Grangol’var Village and fortify the position. Keep it low-profile... I don’t want Shattrath breathing down my neck.”

“Yes Karshe…” the Orc spoke, a little disheartened.

“Oh, and feel free to smash as many of the wandering dead in the Bone Wastes as you desire,” she growled, “I will not be pushed around by some arrogant wretch Lich…” she trailed off in a series of curses as the smoke dispersed. The final image of Murgok was grinning a little at being allowed to smash things.

Once more, the assistant approached to light another blaze, “Burning Blade!” she announced dutifully and slunk back into the shadows. As the flame died and the smoke rose, the sounds of combat immediately filled the air, and Karshe tensed as the sweating, bleeding, grinning face of an Orc was thrust into the smoke.

“Mighty Karshe!” he shouted.

“What the fel is going on here?” Karshe snapped, “What forces are you engaged with?”

“Well… Grug is engaged with Grek, Kha’gorb is engaged with Mar’kal and Glubtug, I am personally engaged with Hellgu,” there was a pause as the head disappeared momentarily, followed by a heavy punching sound and a thud, “No, I’ve knocked him out. I am no longer engaged with any forces.”

Karshe ran her hand down her face and sighed, it was perfectly obvious that they would be brawling, what else would they be doing? They were angry killing machines full of ale and idleness, she was surprised they had managed to actually construct a town. “Very well, carry on… don’t kill anyone! And I expect a status report on Garokk as soon as you are able. I want a full report by tomorrow evening!”

The smoke cleared once more, and Karshe sighed, “Idiot…” She tuned back to her assistant, “I’m going to need a message sent to Mal’Zuur. I will remain here until Kil’Sorrow establish contact. Tell Mal’Zuur that entrenchment into Nagrand is nearly completion and the Bonechewer will soon be under our sway. Inform him that we need to begin to think about Shattrath…”

The assistant nodded dutifully and bustled out of the room, shuddering at the thought of having to confront the arrogant, horrifyingly large Lich in person.

Ongoing Events:

[TF: Bone Wastes]: 250 Death Speakers and 500 Skeletal Warriors have arrived to Reclaim and Reactive Spirit Towers in the Bone Wastes.
Estimated: 1 turn until renovation complete
Reward: Active Spirit Towers, (future research opportunities improve Spirit Tower utility).

[N: North of Burning Blade Clan Ruins]:Garokk, 400 Burning Blade Fanatics and 300 Burning Blade Warlocks scouting north to Found Sea-Side Town and Construction just west of the old Aldor path into Shattrath have CHANGED their objective and now intend to construct Sea-Side Town atop the old Ring of Trials.
Estimated: 2 turns for construction.
Reward: Established inland sea-side town of Garokk’s Harbour. Unlocked maritime research and unit capabilities.

[TF: Allerian Stronghold]: Bonelord Rime, 300 Skeletal Warriors and 1000 Skeletal Archers marching to Assault Tuurem for Mal’Zuur.
Estimated: 1 turn for marching
Reward: Combat with Tuurem

[TF: Bonechewer Ruins]: Mogma attempting Complex Scheme to gain Dominance and Control over Bonechewer Clan at Bonechewer Ruins.
Estimated: 3 turns to fully take control, if no complications
Reward: Control of Bonechewer Clan, including 400 Bonechewer Grunts (these units do not breed) and the Bonechewer Clan Town.

[TF: Bleeding Hollow Clan]: 576 Burning Blade Fanatics and 22 Burning Blade Warlocks sent to Re-establish Communication with Shadow Council forces at Grangol’var Village.
Estimated: 1 turn for travel
Reward: Control of Grangol’var Village and whatever Unknown forces are present.

[N: Burning Blade Clan]: Construction of Training Grounds underway.
Estimated: 1 turn
Reward: Increased Burning Blade Fanatic growth by 10%

Sanctum of the Stars

The Blood elves that were located in the Sanctum of the stars were very fierce fighters. Even some of the Illidari fell to their blades and magic. However, it was fighting a losing battle as the forces of the Illidari finally overwhelmed them and crushed them. They gave them a chance to join their side, a few did, but the rest refused. They were executed later that day. The Sanctum, under Alizar's order, was to be made to teach new Shadowmages, Warlocks and Nethermancers.

((Estimated time, 1 Post))

Illdari Point

A captain of the Scouting team sent to Illdiari point cautiously stepped into Illdari point. The old Draenic ruins were all that seemed to be left of the area. Suddenly, movement caught his eye, and he turned to face it. The other troops id the same, shields and weapons raised, spells readied. It was a Blood elf, his Tabard in ruins, his armor scratched and scorned and dented, but his blade remained sharp, and his shield was still whole. "Explain yourself." He said.

The Captain moved the shield from his own tabard, revealing the Illidari symbol "We are one of you, brother. Lower your weapon, we are not here to fight you."

"How can you be so sure? Illdain is dead, there is nothing that will change that." The man said, not even moving an inch. "We serve a new leader...one who brings hope and prosperity to our people.." the Captain replied, sliding his sword into his sheath "Krystala Dawnshadow, she leads the Illdari, our numbers grow by the days! Join us...join our cause! And the name of the Illdari Darksworn will once again be feared by those who oppose us!"

The Captain extended his hand, his eye picking up more movement with around the man that faced him. "Unless I see proof of this...I can't believe you."

"I think I can help with that."

He turned, Dran and two Darksworn had arrived. His hands folded neatly behind his back, he bowed "Counciler Dran of the Illdari Darksworn. Krystala wishes to extend her armies and her help to all Illdari that are still in hiding. Come..join us...we could use more blades and spell casters like you."

The man eyed Dran warily, but soon sheathed his sword and extended his hand to Dran. The Counciler took it and gave it a firm shake, smiling "For the Illdari."

Voices around him yelled in union "FOR THE ILLDARI!

((Illdari point captured. Fortifications to be made to create into a new Barracks to train more Melee soldiers such as Darkblades, Void Walkers and Demon Hunters. Estimated time is 2 turns))

The Death Forge

The Captain of the scouting team to the Death Forge stood near the tower that was near by, otherwise known as Deathforge Tower. It was empty when they found it, but it would make a nice look out point for future use. Sending word back to the Temple with this information, he got a very unexpecting reply.

Alizar and two Darksworn appeared, walking towards the Captain. He saluted the Nethermancer with respect "Nethermancer Alizar, good to see you!"

"Likewise" The man said, looking over the Death Forge below "How does it look?"

"The Oracles say there is activity in the Forge. They've noticed us, but are not making any hostile engagements. I was about to send the order to move in once reinforcements had arrived at the Tower." The Captain said, standing at attention. Alizar thought for a moment before gesturing to the Captain "Come, bring five Darkblades and two Oracles. Leave the rest here to watch the Tower while we go in."


Lord Regent Kalinar Bloodstrike gazed out from his balcony on the highest level of Tempest Keep, observing his fledgling Republic in growth. Most of the nation was confined to the mammoth of Tempest Keep, working to survive as best they could in the harsh environment that was Netherstorm, though a few had begun to set up shop and live outside. In the distance, vaguely visible, Manaforge Duro sat, powered down, for now. He had sent a team to work on restoring it to its former glory. High Spellweaver Mordis had realized that, with a little bit of tweaking and a constant mage staff, the manaforge could possibly be made to mass-produce magical dietary items. Food, along with water, had always been a problem in Netherstorm, and if it could simply be plucked off of a conveyor belt and distributed, it would be solved until the Republic could expand to Stormspire and grow actual food.

He was interrupted from his nation-gazing by a knock on the door. He answered it to find Chief Ambassador Lionus standing there, along with Advisor Goldray.

"Ah, gentlemen," Kalinar said. "I've been expecting you. Please, come in."

The two did so, stepping through the doorway and positioning themselves in front of the Lord Regent. They began to bow, in unison, of course, when Kal interrupted them. "No need for that, my friends; this isn't court. You may speak without the unnecessary formalities."

The two nodded, and Advisor Goldray began to speak. "Lord Regent Bloodstrike, we have thought it over, and we have calculated that the repair of Manaforge Duro will require a very large amount of people... larger than the team you sent out. We have recieved word from one of the Spellweavers you sent that the technology is unlike anything seen back in Quel'thalas. Kael-"

"Don't say his name!" Kalinar shouted. "Don't you ever say that bastard's name."

Goldray mentally slapped himself. How could he forget? It was one of the Lord Regent's main laws: one must never talk about Kael'thas Sunstrider or the things he did. After a moment of mental preparation, he continued. "As you wish. The traitor truly was ingenious in the design of the manaforges in terms of security. It could take days, maybe weeks, to figure out exactly how he and his servants did it without more resources."

Bloodstrike raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And exactly how many engineers and Spellweavers will need to be spared for this project? And don't say all of them, because so help me, if you do, I will throw you off the balcony, you know I will."

Goldray's eyes widened as he realized that Kalinar was deadly serious about this. He did not like committing all of his resources to a single goal; it weakened things all throughout the Bloodstrike Republic. If you took all the soldiers and made them attack one foretress, then what happened to your other holdings? He tried to formulate a fitting response without seeming like a stuttering idiot.

Chief Ambassador Lionus interrupted before the advisor could say anything. No, my Lord Regent, not nearly all of them. All that is required is 20 engineers and 20 Spellweavers, along with perhaps 40 blood soldiers and a blood guard commander to oversee operations and protect them from possible threats."

This made Kal calm down considerably... for about ten seconds. "Ah. See, there's a small number. The effects are virtually nonexistent."

The two silently exhaled in relief. "Yes, Lord Regent." Goldray said.

"Then why, if I may ask, do you see it fit to BOTHER ME WITH SUCH AN INCONSEQUENTIAL MATTER?!" Kalinar screamed.

That relief was gone. Lionus was the first to respond. "We only thought it appropriate to recieve permission from the Lord Regent before-"

Kal cut him off. "Listen, both of you. I am Lord Regent of a nation that is struggles to keep all of its citizens fed daily, due to an agriculturally abysmal area. In addition, I have received word of a nation to the northwest known as the Clockwork Covenant, a dictatorship with a wall around their territory –who knows what they could be hiding - and what seems to be an army of Fel Reavers. I don't know about you, but in my mind, those two things are a lot more important and worthy of my time than how many engineers and Spellweavers need to be sent to a Manaforge maybe a mile away. From now on, don't come to me with such meaningless things that can be solved with your own minds. Understood?"

The two other blood elves nodded. "Yes, Lord Regent."

"Good. Now, Goldray, be off. As for you, Lionus, stay here for a while. I have something I need to discuss with you."

Telfan figured he had little left to live for. His wife hadn't been able to escape Azeroth, and his son had died during the Covenant's march to Netherstorm. Yet the Covenant had saved him, and for this he decided he might as well end his now pointless life in their name. Thus, he had enlisted in the army, and thus, he stood with nearly 500 other armed Blood Elves and about 20 Fel Reavers outside the gates of Avarrack, just outside the Ecodome. This invasion force consisted of 7 infantry units, 2 units of legionaries, and ten battle mages along with the 2 units of Fel Reavers.Telfan was at first surprised at the lack of Goblin soldiers before reminding himself that most Goblins worked as engineers.

His thoughts were interrupted as a figure took a position upon the wall of Avarrack. Telfan was too far away to see him, but he assumed that it was Cargath, lord and ruler of the Covenant. As Cargath took his position, a small din that had been building amongst the assembled troops abruptly ceased.

His voice, amplified by magic, carried all across the army. “A new power is rising from the chaos of Outlands. Yet before that power can achieve victory, we need the means to do it. The means of victory are directly South of the city! The Forge Bases will supply us with many machines. We already control one, now it is up to you to take the other one! And just further South of that lies the means to power these machines; a fully functional manaforge, sitting unguarded, waiting for us to claim it! With the resources gained from this endeavor, we could conquer and unite all of Outlands! Victory to the Covenant!” He finished, as the army repeated his final shout.

Telfan had never felt this nervous in years. He was starting to regret his decision before reminding himself that he had nothing to go back to. Before he could ponder the matter further, movement sparked up amongst the assembled forces as the turned South and began marching. The thndering footsteps of the Reavers created a sort of drumbeat that filled Feltan with adrenaline, which he would desperately need for the long march ahead.

North Eastern Zangermarsh, tunnel entrance
The small squad of hippogryphs alighted on the soggy ground a stone’s throw from the brash human who had called out to them. The elves had grudgingly complied with his first ‘request,’ but they remained seated on their mounts, their bows resting lightly across their laps. Although greatly outnumbered, they appraised the humans before them with calm confidence verging on arrogance, borne from thousands of years of superiority.

One of the six, riding a large emerald gryph and wearing a long cape of feathers the same color, spurred her mount forward a few strides beyond the others and shouted across the short distance, her disdain clear in spite of her heavy accent, “I am scout-captain Izlani Ravenwind, and I demand to know the meaning of this! This territory has lain unclaimed since our exile to this land began and yet you accost us simply for moving as freely through it as we have since that time? What gives you the right to claim it at your convenience? What has happened to the vaunted Honor of Man? Or has that dwindled in exile as much as your common sense?”

The Kaldorei woman could no longer suppress her smile as she spoke her final words, and at the exact moment they left her curved lips a hurricane-force wind ripped over their section of the marsh. The swampland grasses were immediately flattened while water, mud, and any loose debris on the ground suddenly took to the air with deadly speed; even the great mushrooms towering over them trembled and shook under the force of the squall. It was all the Kaldorei could do to hold on to the mounts as the great beasts spread their wings and sprang into the sky, riding the gust upwards at impossible speeds. The gale ended as suddenly as it began and high overhead a pair of stormcrows took flight from the top of a nearby mushroom.

Sylvanaar, BEM

Kaedris was livid. Ever since the Triumvirate had received the report from earlier that day, he had been out for blood. Ashanadi and Cirica had long since stopped listening to his off-and-on tirades, which did little to improve his mood. At the moment he was pacing aggressively back and forth across the room, practically frothing at the mouth as the General repeated for the countless time that evening, “You agreed to the contingency plan when we originally discussed it. Are you honestly going to go back on that now? What will you do? Order your druids not to help us?”

Cirica gave him a scathing look as she spoke. She was quickly getting tired of his bloodthirstiness. Yes, she blamed the young races for what happened to their home just the same as he did, but starting wars with anyone who crossed their path would only endanger the survivors. The final words her predecessor spoke to her as she led the refugees away from the Portal rang in her ears, perhaps the last order General Feathermoon ever gave, Protect the people. Cirica would fulfill that order no matter what, though she couldn’t help but feel that someday doing so would lead to violence between her and Kaedris.

“Fine!” he finally roared, “It’s still a solid defensive strategy, I’ll give you that! But what of our offense? You can’t honestly think I’ll agree to her plan?” he pointed an accusatory finger at Ashanadi as if she had committed some crime.

The priestess looked back at him evenly and spoke in a soft, restrained voice, “And your opinion is duly noted Archdruid. But seeing as we are not declaring war, only two of the three of us must agree. General Darkleaf already has.”

At her words the druid’s eyes seemed to bulge and the tendons in his neck stood out clearly as he attempted to restrain himself. Too furious even to shout, he stormed from the chamber and disappeared into the darkening sky. Ashanadi sighed, she took no pleasure in alienating their counterpart but she still felt her plan was for the best.

Cirica looked at her sympathetically, “Perhaps it is better if he is on his own right now. He will return once he calms himself, and it will give us time to work uninterrupted. I already have someone in mind to send, I take it you do as well?”

Priestess Nightstorm nodded, “After that little incident today, we are going to need a true diplomat to handle things,” she caught Cirica’s doubtful look and smiled, “Don’t worry. She has plenty of combat experience as well.”

The General returned her smile, “We had better send for them then. And I had better inform Commander Skyshadow to set the contingency plan in motion before Kaedris changes his mind.”

Cirica looked the pair up and down, hoping that the two of them would be up to the task she was setting before them. Although she trusted her counterpart’s judgment, the priestess whom Ashanadi had chosen was unknown to her. Her own choice, Lux’thar Strongoak, had served as a commander under her for years. He stood at attention before her in his unadorned silver armor, his long white hair pulled back in a braid. He wore a tabard bearing the relatively new crest of the Kaldorei Reformation, a black, leafless tree set on a silver field, and had a massive broadsword in the scabbard strapped to his back. Many people took his huge muscular frame and the fact that he was a man of few words to mean that he was simple or brutish, but Cirica had known him long enough to know better. Both of his parents were scribes, and in his youth he had been given quite a thorough education before deciding he would rather wield a sword than a quill. She smiled at him but said nothing.

The General appraised the priestess next. The woman wore the white robes of her order and carried a longbow as was their norm. Her turquoise hair was pulled up in a complex twist of braids and adorned with silver ornaments. Cirica addressed her, “Priestess Bluesong is it? Ashanadi tells me you were stationed at Nigel’s Point. I take it you are familiar in dealing with humans then?”

The priestess nodded respectfully, “Yes, General. I was there for six years, representing the Sisterhood in Desolace. I had a great deal of contact with the humans there, as well as a few dwarves who passed through from time to time.”

“Good. Then you both understand what you are to do? I know it is dangerous sending you both into the open like this, so I will also be assigning a full company of Sentinels to escort you-”

“With respect, ma’am,” priestess Bluesong broke in unexpectedly, “We are walking right into the heart of two very hostile nations. One hundred guards either way is not going to protect us if they turn violent, but it will make us appear afraid. Might I suggest only a handful of guards, if any at all?”

Cirica pursed her lips. On one hand she hated the idea of sending her ambassadors in alone, it felt like offering them up as sacrificial lambs. On the other hand, the priestess had a very good point; she approved of Ashanadi’s choice even more. She looked to Lux’thar for his opinion and he nodded silently in agreement. “Alright,” she said at last, “I will send only six Sentinels with each of you. Lux’thar, you know them well enough to choose your own unit. I will be sending you to the force in the southeast. Priestess Bluesong, I will select your guards and they will accompany you to the upstarts who have settled in the west. You will take hippogryphs and travel with all due haste.”

Ashanadi broke in adding, “Make sure that they know we have no interest in the swamps to the south. They can claim whatever territory they wish there. So long as they do not try to move against us here in the mountains, we are willing to remain neutral in whatever squabbles over land that they have.”

Circia dismissed them. The priestess bowed deeply and the soldier gave a solute before they turned and left. After they were gone, Ashanadi turned to her, “I told you Ione was a good pick.”

The General nodded in agreement but said, “I just wish it didn’t feel like we were sending them off to the slaughter.”

“Don’t think like that. They are both capable agents and are going under a white banner. Surely not even humans are so barbarous they would violate the sanctity of messengers? Besides, what choice do we have besides this or attacking as Kaedris insists we must?”

“You are right again,” Cirica signed, her worries still not put to rest, “I will not have this become another Ashenvale. We shall attempt diplomacy first. Even if they fail, it will at least buy us time to put our contingency plan into action.”

Current Projects:

Growing a forest in their territory in BEM (1/2 completed)-
150 druids of the wild
73 dryads
15 keepers of the wild

Ambassador sent to Black Legion stronghold in Zangermarsh (via hippogryph, 1 post for travel)-
Commander Lux’thar Strongoak
6 Sentinels

Ambassador sent to Republic of Man in Zangermarsh (via hippogryph, 1 post for travel)-
Priestess Ione Bluesong
6 Sentinels

Team sent into the western tunnel to begin work on the “contingency plan” aka: collapsing their end of the tunnel and filling it with irontree roots (2 posts to complete)-
300 Sentinels
100 archers
50 druids of the wild
100 civilian crewmen

Team sent into the eastern tunnel to begin work on the “contingency plan” aka: collapsing their end of the tunnel and filling it with irontree roots (1 post for travel, 2 posts to complete)-
300 Sentinels
100 archers
50 druids of the wild
100 civilian crewmen

Training Civilian Militia (2 posts to complete)-
200 Sentinels
100 archers

The Forge Master happened to be one of the Death Forge's tinkerers. Blood elves and Tinkerers worked on Fel-Constructs with in the Forge. He was aware of the Illidari's arrival, Kaldorei and Sin'dorei working together was an odd sight for him. Nervously, he fumbled with his hammer as Alizar approached. "G-G-G-Good day, s-s-s-sir!" He said, his voice squeaky and nervous.

Demons, Alizar always found their only purpose was to be enslaved. Of course, his Tinkerer was willing to follow his commands, so Alizar spoke "The Illdari has use of the Death Forge....I want all Illdari soldiers to go to the Black Temple for proper training and preparation. Mean while I shall be leaving some of my men here to watch oversee the work..." He pointed at one of the Constructs "How many of those have been made?"

"100 S-s-s-sir!" The Tinkerer replied, almost dropping his hammer. "Good...I want them all to start to head to the Wildhammer Stronghold to take it. Fail me and it shall be your undoing...do I make myself clear?"

"AstheIlldaricommandssir!" The Tinkerer said in a rush before he bolted off to do as he was asked. "Demons.." He muttered with annoyance before he turned and left.


Death Forge Tower had workers preparing to become an outpost. An area for Fel-Cannons to be placed to ward off any attackers that came near the Death Forge. Dran and Alizar looked south-west to were the Stronghold was. "They are going to have fliers..." Dran said, his arms folded across his chest. "I'm aware of that, I'll have my spell casters deal with them...and the new constructs will be ideal for dealing with the ground forces."

The Demon Hunter nodded slowly, turning to the soldiers that had arrived "Men and women of the Illdari...today we take Wildhammer Stronghold for the Illdari Darksworn! For Lady Krystala!"

He turned and pointed towards the Stronghold "ADVANCE!"


Krystala sat upon the Fel-Tank as it moved along the road. She caught sight of the large force of Illdari fighters heading towards the Wildhammer Stronghold and smiled "It seems that things are going well for us...we should have a decent amount of land by the time the year ends."

Mira also watched, her silver eyes full of amusement "Indeed, My Lady, all of it shall be taken in your name." She looked down to find that Krystala was shaking her head "Not just my name, Mira...our name, the Illdari Darksworn. I will achieve what Illdian failed..."

Soon enough, they had reached the boarder between Shadowmoon and Tekkor. It had been a while that Krystala saw a more lusher land than Shadowmoon. Even so, sure, Shadowmoon was twisted with dark magics, but it was still the home of the Illdari....she planned to keep it that way for as long as she lived. "My Lady...look over there." Mira said, pointing out the Bonechewer Ruins near by.

"No need to worry about them, just keep moving and leave them be. I doubt they will attack a small scouting group that's just passing through." The woman leaned against the gun of the tank as it kept on moving past the ruins. She'd hope the sight of them to the inhabitants of the Ruins wouldn't mind them passing through, if they showed hostility it would but a large damper on her plans to scout North.

Even so, the hurdle that they needed to get through was the boarder between Zagramarsh and Tekkor, for who knows who has made their home there, or made their outpost. That was no matter, however, she'd cross that bridge when she comes to it. For now, she closed her eyes, and rested....just for a bit...something told her she was going to need her strength at some point during the journey.

((Current Projects!

Battle of Sanctum of the Stars. Area captured, now use to train more spellcaster units. Estimate time to completion is One turn.

Death Forge Captured, Reward is 100 Fel Constructs with 100 more being made. Estimated time is two turns.

Illdari Point Captured. Reward is 100 Darkblades, 200 Shadowmages, 100 Illdari Warlocks and 100 Nethermancers.

Battle against Wildhammer Stronghold has begun!

Units sent:

100 Fel-Constructs

40 Darkblades

10 Dark Oracles

20 Shadowmages

10 Nethermancers.

4 Darksworn to accompany Dran and Alizar

Estimated time is 1 turn.

Sanctum of the stairs

50 Void Walkers slain.

10 Darkblades slain

10 Shadowmages Slain

Additional Shadowmages being trained at Temple along with Darkblades and Voidwalkers. Estimated time is 1 turn.

Voidwalkers and Oracles made from previous battles.

Scout Party:

Kry and Co are moving through Tekkor. Estimated time is 1 turn to boarder(Tek-Zag) if no interruptions occur.


Death Forge Tower turned into a look out. Estimated time to completion is 2 turns.

Illdari Point being fortified. 2 turns to completion.))
High Tinker Dralnar sat at his table, alone in his dim workshop. The title “High Tinker” was merely a cruel joke. The tinkers were a small group of engineers that worked on finer projects such as clocks. However, that was about the end of the list. Any big project was sent over to the Goblins, who worked fast but were never made Tinkers due to their creations often 'malfunctions'. Dralnar was toying with a small clockwork rabbit when his lonely thoughts were interrupted by a knock upon his door. He stood, went to answer the door, and nearly fell down in surprise to see Cargath himself standing in the doorway.

“M-my lord,” Dralnar stammered out, swiftly bowing. “Why have you come to my humble workshop?”

“Thank you, but please let up on the formalities,” the Covenant ruler replied. “Now down to business. I have a very important assignment for you.”

“Important? I mean no disrespect sir, but if you need something important done, why not see a Goblin?” the Tinker asked in response.

“They lack the required finesse for this assignment,” Cargash replied. “They are rather good with weapons of war, but what I need is far more important and delicate.”

“What could possibly be of more importance than conquering and unifying Outlands?” Dralnar asked, confused.

"The weapons are fine for a direct approach, but what use is a direct approach if you have no idea what you are approaching? So, I want you to build me a small scouting force. Preferably something iconic in design yet small enough to go unnoticed," Cargath requested.

"Perhaps a whelp?" Dralnar suggested. "I've made a few small battle whelps before. I could have 10 done in a month."

"Excellent. I'll be waiting," Cargath finished as he left the workshop.

The horses thundered past the caravans on the road, nearly toppling a man from his talbuk as they sped past. Five riders, their armour rent and tarnished, pushed the steeds as far as they could towards Haven's outskirts. The last of the knights pulled a horn to his lips and blew out two sharp retorts.
The same two retorts rose in answer as the road widened and they past the first scattered buildings of the city.

The leadership of the Red Brotherhood met the battered knights at the edge of the central plateau. The 25 ranking knights, 10 of the priesthood and the Brother-Captain stood at the edge of the western bridge behind the Brotherhood Commander.
Long gone were the rickety rope bridges which had connected the plateau. Now the cliffs were interconnected by metal platforms and bridges. The cacophony of excavation and the continuing work below the plateau echoed from the cliffs.
The knights rode in across the cleared bridge, pulling their exhausted mounts to a stop in front of the group. The beasts looked ready to topple and die as they were led away by some of the priests.
'Report.' The sharp command caused the knights to flinch.
'Ogres sir, the hill is still defended.'
'Then your brothers?'
'Dead,' The knight grit his teeth, spitting out the next sentence, 'Bastards must have seen us coming, sat in their caves waiting.'
The Commander said nothing for a time, his eyes gazing into the distance.
'Take your men and get some rest, we will take that hill no matter how many ogres stand against us.'

-After three meetings with Moguls-
'Ogres could be useful to our work, Commander.' Mogul Gert stood at the threshold of his building, his gaze boring into the human. The commander had long before figured the goblin to a military background, his unnerving focus far different from the other Moguls or indeed any other goblin he had to work with.
'The ogres will not negotiate with us, nor give up the area if we ask.'
'If you kill their leader in a duel they may be more... negotiable.'
'You're telling me to challenge an Ogre to a duel?'
'I'm telling you to do what is necessary to secure them as assets, do that and I will easily endorse whatever you need for your fortress.'

Subject 314-C strained against the mining car, weighed down as it was by a mound of rock and metal. Yet still, amazingly the car began to move. The subject pushed the cart across the room, grunting as it finally touched the opposite wall.
314-C could hardly still be called human anymore; the massive muscle growth having long destroyed any semblance of that. He had even gained a head in size, now positively towering over the goblins. Mogul Vitriol was ecstatic, he had finally done it. After months of trying he had figured out enough of Outland's fauna to create a working hobgoblin, hobhuman he supposed, formula.
Now he merely needed to work on getting it to work consistently with all the myriad races at his disposal.

-Near Garadar-
Small tents were set up silently around the ancient gnarled trees of Nagrand, figures climbing into their boughs to set a watch. In the morning they would be gone, moving again to scope out the orcish city.
15 knights lost against small ogre tribe

Mogul's Ziri and Gert endorse Brotherhood Base at Warmaul Hill (construction pending)
Dispatching 300 Brothers, 80 knights, and 50 priests to take the Hill

The Murder is preparing to either attack or infiltrate Garadar (Decision in 1 day)

Mogul Stitches has begun work on creating new ledges along the cliff walls (Complete in 4 days)

Breakthrough: Localization of the Hobgoblin formula found, multiracial applications research beginning (Est. 2 days)

Lack of Brotherhood presence in Haven decreases recruitment
Lack of Mercenary opposition increases Blade recruitment
Lux Aeterna Terrae

"You wished to see me, Mister Chancellor?" The Minister of Finance asked with an impish expression on her face as she walked into the Chancellor's Office. Tarquin looked up with an answering grin and moved a stack of papers to the other side of his desk, giving the Minister room to set down her own set of papers and charts no doubt filled to the brim with the endless minutiae of accounting that all empires ran on.

"Of course, Madam Minister. I've asked you and Minister Jagere here to discuss some rather important matters -he should be arriving any minute now. Before we get down to business, though, how have you been?" The Minister gave a flippant wave that encompassed all of life as she sat in one of the three chairs across from the Chancellor.

"Oh, you know. Fairly well. Work's been keeping me busy, my sons are off doing whatever it is they do on the other side of the Sea, and my husbands always gallivanting off to some part of the Republic or the other. You?"

"Pretty much the same. Constantly getting called to the Joruus project, or getting told by Gaius that the granaries are slightly over capacity, or dispatching an ambassador to some refugee-flooded city or another -by the way, I dispatched an ambassador to Shattrath the other day to open up trade relations-, the usual." The Chancellor tapped his desk for a a few moments, then straightened as though suddenly remembering something.

"Oh yes! I've also been drawing up the plans for our expansion to the other side of the Sea, as well as writing out detailed plans on the exact manner in which we shall drown our enemies in an endless tide of blood, flame, and steel, thereby cementing our dominion over all of Outland and claiming this world for the Titans for all time." The sentence was said in an entirely too cheerful, almost joking tone by the Chancellor. His eyes took on a wicked gleam, one that was matched by the red-haired woman sitting across from him.

"God, I love it when you talk that way." Lady Kaitlyin Tarquin said in a shockingly lascivious tone.

"And I know you do, deares-" The Chancellor was cut off by the sound of his office door opening for a second time. A massive Vrykul dressed in, of all the incongruous things, a three-piece suit with a red-striped black tie, took three steps in and looked at the two humans eight feet in front of him. A hand the size of a dinner platter covered his face as the Vrykul shook his head.

"Can't you two ever get a room? We already have to put up with this at state dinners and Senate meetings." Minister of War Halfdan Jagere sat down in another chair, one built specially for the dimensions of a Vrykul.

"Technically, we are in a room. In fact, this entire palace", Chancellor Tarquin waved around at the massive edifice, which had been built to house not only the rulers of the government, but also the Senate chambers, multiple wings dedicated to the Ministries, and all of the bureaucrats so regrettably essential to governance, "can be considered one giant building composed of 'our rooms'."

"And don't I know it. I'm always afraid to sit down somewhere for fear that you two were there first. Now, before this conversation spirals any further into hedonism than it already has, why am I here instead of in my office handling troop deployments?"

"You, Minister Jagere, are a singularly odd Vrykul. Most of them would simply ask why they aren't on the front lines, and why there aren't more front lines." Kaitlyn remarked, slightly toungue-in-cheek. Jagere shrugged.

"By commanding soldiers on the front lines, I can slay thousands and assure a high place for myself in the Legions of Aggramar when I ascend to the realm of the Titans. By commanding those commanders, I can slay tens, if not hundreds of thousands, of our enemies, thereby ensuring my place in the highest ranks of the Legions. Now, why are we here?" Tarquin nodded.

"As I was beginning to explain to Kaitlyn before you arrived, colonization of the eastern side of Zangar-" Tarquin was cut off for the second time in as many minutes by Jagere.

"I'd wager that you were explaining the colonization of something else entirely." Kaitlyn leaned over her chair's arm and punched the Vrykul in the arm. Rubbing his arm -those tiny human fists hurt- Halfdan gestured to the Chancellor. "Forgive the interruption, please continue." Tarquin sighed deeply and took a deep breath.
"Aman'Thul, how did we ever become part of the same nation?" he muttered. "Anyway, we're about to begin colonization of the eastern part of... whatever this place is now. It sure isn't Zangarmarsh anymore, not after what we've done to it. The colonists are on their way as we speak, guarded by the Second and Fifth Marine Battalions, two Dragoon squadrons, and a Scorpion battery. As soon as they make landfall directly east of the former location of Telredor, the terraforming of Dracon Province will commence. The swamps will be drained, dikes will be set up to prevent lower areas from being flooded, the tunnel entrance to the Blade's Edge Mountains will be fortified, native foliage will be removed -especially those mushrooms- and the transplanting of native Azerothian plant life will take place. Wheat, beans, corn, and the occasional tree nursery, basically. Same setup as we have here in Helmand. Except that the planned tree nursery will be pine. It's odd, really. We have a yew and an oak nursery, but pine got overlooked somehow. Also, our proto-drake hatchlings are starting to mature, so I'm notifying you that training of our first native Proto-Drake squadron is about to commence. Halfdan, you already know this. Kaitlyn, I'm letting you know so that the Procurements Bureau is prepared to get them whatever they may need." Lady Tarquin nodded and jotted something down in the notebook she always carried around.

"So who do we have securing the province while the colonists are en route?" Minister Jagere asked. Chancellor Tarquin shot an uneasy glance at his otherwise preoccupied wife before responding.

"Yes, as to that... I recently received a message from Admiral Tarquin, on the Hand of Judgement. It seems that one Commander Tiberius Dammerung Tarquin took fifty Marines with him to investigate reports of a Night Elf aerial presence. And since both of the younger Tarquins know we had already planned Dracon Province's colonization, I assume that there was more to his expedition that simple curiosity. So unless he does something drastic like start a war with the Night Elves, the area should be relatively secure once they arrive." Both of the people sitting across from the Chancellor held a sickened expression of shock and horror on their faces. "What?"

"So..." Halfdan massaged the bridge of his nose with two massive fingers. "You're saying that the security of Dracon Province, and quite possibly the Republic of Man itself, depends entirely on the discretion of Tiberius Dammerung Tarquin?"



Kaitlyn Tarquin leaned forward and rested her head in the palms of her hands.

"Dear Highfather Aman'Thul, this is all going to end in flames, isn't it?"

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