Epilogue: Rogue Factions (Patreon)

Epilogue: Rogue Factions
As the North settles into an uneasy peace, the Southern states make ready to take advantage of the new status quo.

A Blade in the Shadows

The hour was late and Zul'Gurub's people quiet as Shadow Hunter Vosh'gajin slipped silently through the back alleys and side streets. The sound of the city's churning rivers filled the air with a tranquil air, moonlight reflecting off its surface and filling her eyes with silvery light.

She danced around aging monuments and grand temple towns, their ancient bronze stones interwoven with carefully tended vines.

Three heads dangled from her hand, not making a sound as they swayed in the night as she rebounded off lush treetops and into the temple of the Spider. Catwalking across the stonework she dropped down into its heart, right behind the towering form of the flame-haired High Priestess Mar'li.

"Priestess!" One of the others hissed, and Vosh'gajin's gaze flickered to the voice's owner: The diminutive High Priest Thekal

By his side was High Priestess Jeklik. Both readied for combat and Mar'li tightened her grip on her ivory staff, but she did not act even as the blade rested against her back.

"Welcome again to my temple, Shadow Hunter, I take it you had happy hunting?"

Vosh'gajin snorted and tossed the three heads to the floor, letting them rebound off the stone as she pulled away from the towering troll and drew her other dagger, spinning each blade in her hands.

"You live up to your deadly reputation," Thekal murmured.

"Kilnara will not be happy her sister is dead," Mused Jeklik.

Mar'li waved her staff in disregard.

"It was necessary, they had fallen too deep into the Atali's embrace. This act has saved their souls, even as it damned their bodies," She motioned to the alter behind her, "Let us see what Jin'do the Hexxer, Arlokk and Venoxis recall of their followers, quickly now, before their flesh begins to rot."

Vosh'gajin watched them work with idle curiosity as the priests placed each head upon the alter; Thekal sprinkled some ground herbs as Jeklik revealed surgical tools. Marli however turned to face her.

Vosh'gajin tensed, but the troll woman smiled disarmingly.

"Fear not, Shadow Hunter, there is no place in this story where we betray you. This is a great service you and your… 'Horde' have done for us," She glanced back, "By this time tomorrow, we shall know every one of their lieutenants and proceed to thoroughly purge the Atali from this city."

Letting her blades idle a little, she smiled and bowed, "Always happy to be of service, when its reciprocal, yes?"

Mar'li chuckled, her staff tapping against the stone, "It shall be, this one assures you. Once we have purged the heretics, things shall be stable, and Zul'Gurub's War Leader, Mandokir shall be able to marshal the power of every Gurubashi state."

The woman's pleased smile had a hint of something sharp and predatory, her one open palm slowly closing around an errant mosquito and crushing it as she spoke, "When your Horde marches South, we too shall march North, and together, we shall crush Stormwind and divvy up the lands as we please."

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Defiant

Edwin VanCleef's office had at different times in his life been a great hall, a royal apartment, and a hidden side room, overlooking an underground lake in the Deadmines. It had also at one point been little more than an old Kobold den, so the Westfall Lighthouse was far from the worst he dealt with.

His chosen room was in ordered chaos, littered with receipts and records, leases and pocketbooks, and all manner of scribbled notes from spies and musings. To examine it all at once was madness, but Edwin had been a builder before he was a scout or revolutionary, putting things together was a skill he'd honed over decades.

'And at the heart of it all, Lady Prestor,' He mused, dragging his sharpened quill down the page with such care he sliced through the paper like he was holding a blade.

He was drawn from his musings by the familiar footfalls of Garn Mathers and Morgaine the Sly, and before they could knock he barked, "Let them in, Avarice."

The door opened with a low creak and the pair marched in, saluting smartly in their polished leather armor and crimson masks, "Sir!"

"I take it we have word from Klaven Mortwake?" He answered, lazily saluting back.

"Yes sir," Morgain said, "He's managed to secure us safe harbor in Booty Bay, provided we can render our services to the city."

Garn snorted, “Apparently some insane Tirasi nobleman’s taken up piracy, calls his little fleet the Bloodsail_Buccaneers and the port could use some, expert assistance in fortifying and fighting.”

“That won’t be difficult, still, a shame their leader is some blue-blooded noble; I might have otherwise thought them kinsmen.” He shook his head, “Though it matters not, right now I will not be needing a fleet, not for what comes next at least.” 

The pair looked at him curiously and Garn motioned at the table, "Sir, do you have… something in mind?"

Edwin huffed, brushing dark locks behind his ears.

"I have realized the architect of our recent misfortunes, in so much as any one person can be such a thing."

For no matter who or what Lady Prestor was, she could not have controlled every detail, but she'd been both his foe and his sponsor through her cat's paw bloc of scheming nobles.

"Sir?"

"We are not ready to remove her from play just yet, her or the puerile monarch and effete nobles, but we shall be with time and the right tools." He turned away to brush his hand across a map of the lands, "I think we shall be sending some of our friends North, to gather funds and support for when we return."

He traced a finger along to Stormwind, "Meanwhile, the other cells will remain in the ground, gathering support for us quietly as proxies and ensure we are not surprised again."

No more trusting nobles, no more letting anyone but his agents give him sources and even then, trust but verify.

Turning back to his soldiers, Edwin clasped his hands behind his back, "But before all of that, Brighteyes."

The two soldiers stiffened as the mysterious assassin flickered into the room with nary a sound, her glowing eyes boring into his as she saluted.

“I have a job for you and the Riverpaw, something to take care of while Prestor is away, a parting gift you might say and a reminder that the Defias shall return. Interested?"

He didn't need to ask, the glint in her eyes to know the answer.

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The Blackrock Truce

And thus, with the signing of this cipher, it is sworn to be that until such time as our enemies fall and we are lord of all we survey, that the Dark Iron Empire and the Horde shall make no war upon one another.

On the name of my father, my people, and my life, I so swear it, let there be peace between us until all that stands between our nations and their glory are brought low.

​Their charcoal styluses leave their mark and the contract thrums and sings with magic as it binds them, and a low chorus of polite applause ring out from the chamber of black stone, held aloft above lava by dark steel alone.

Rend Blackhand smiled, "I would say let this peace last forevermore, but that would suggest the Alliance dogs shall survive more than a handful of years."

Emperor Dagran Thaurissan's gold and red robes flow with his sharp laugh, crimson eyes staring back at the Orc, "A handful? You are more generous than I, Warchief."

Rend did not cast off his ceremonial robes and armor the moment he returned to Hordemar as he would like. He did not return to his war room, his training hall or his chambers as he might want, instead waving off his escort and marching towards the peak of the mountain.

Claustrophobic walls of shaped black rock and grey steel surrounded him on all sides, lit by great braziers that released no smoke and cast the air in a quiet emerald light.

He was not surprised when Voone fell in at his side, graceful and quiet, his leather vest and pants of finer make than his usual fair, as always Voone knew what Rend was thinking.

"So, I hear we are at peace?"

"For now at least," Rend smirked, "Given the Dwarves' sense of humor I'd almost be of a mind to negotiate with him again, if Blackrock were something I'd ever concede. But alas."

Voone's sibilant chuckle echoed as they began passing by Dragonkin and up the more ornate stairways, "A bit of a shock though, pragmatic as it is, they did kill your brother after all."

That fact still hurt and ached in his chest, but Rend was a Warchief first and a brother second, and as his gaze drifted across the Dragonkin a part of him thrummed with the truth.

"Yes, well, war is war and I'd be a poor Warchief to put my grudges above the glory of the Horde," He looked back at the crimson haired troll, "Though what of you? Not disappointed I hope?"

Voone rolled his shoulders, "So long as you give me a mighty foe to test my wits against, I shall ever be satisfied in your service."

Grand doors of black metal and gold patterns embedded with gems were pulled open before them, revealing a throne room that overlooked the Burning Steppes. It was resplendent and magnificent to the ordinary onlooker, if one lacked a sight for magic. In his eyes, Rend knew it was a dilapidated wreck.

"My service, you mean," Cut in a smooth, aristocratic voice.

Reclining on a half-broken throne, pouring over notes was Nefarian, the self-proclaimed Lord of Blackrock and all within it. Bedecked in his human guise, with dull red armor, sharp hawkish features and pale grey hair that hung just below his ears.

Rend wanted to gut him.

The pair knelt before him, Voone feigning fear, "Of course, of course, great one…"

Nefarian's gaze flickered to Rend, "Master, the treaty is signed, and so for now at least, the Dwarves shall not be of concern to us."

"This should not have been a concern at all with that which I have granted you," He sighed theatrically, "But a mortal mind can only use the glorious gifts I have given so crudely I suppose."

He kept them waiting there in silence for several minutes, minutes that rankled every scrap of pride and patience Rend had worked so hard to earn in his long-short life. Finally, the dragon spoke.

"You're still here? Go, run along, prepare for your wars with the humans, but do not act before my spies have given word."

"As you say master, so shall it be," Rend intoned, rising to his feet and marching out of the chamber with Voone in tow, a silent smirk in his heart.

'I may not be able to act so swiftly, but the Gnolls I supply, the bandits and trolls? Nefarian, your days as master shall be short indeed if I have my way.'

As they returned to Hordemar and slipped into Rend's chamber, the long hidden privacy wards flaring as the door shut, Rend saw Voone's ears twitch.

The troll shot forward, easily catching a playfully thrown knife as he did so, chuckling, "Getting lazy there little one."

The lean troll woman reclining on Rend's lounge balanced a second knife on her fingertip, "Just taking it easy on you ol' man."

Rend smile, arms thrown wide, "Ah, our dear girl, Vosh'gajin, you bring good news, I hope?

The troll woman nodded, "All the bodies that needed to be added to the pyre have been, as they burn, we shall rise to glory upon the smoke."

"Perfect."

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The Glory of Empire

Across the mighty Shadowforge City the people stood in endless rows, massed into crowds on every street from the Dark Iron Highway, to The Iron Hall, the Shrine of Thaurissan and beyond.

Their ashen skin touched by the ever-present glow of magma, the people of the empire stood and waited with baited breath. Their glowing red eyes locked upon the robed forms of the Imperial Preachers, each adorned with weighty masks, carved in the visage of the Great Founder, wreathed in flames.

Emperor Dagran Thaurissan stood within the grand halls of the Imperial Seat, and gathered all around him were the Shadowforge Senate, chanting as one. He threw his arms wide, magic suffusing his voice as arcane and eldritch energies danced across the black and gold-lined halls.

"Loyal children of the Dark Iron Empire, your emperor comes to you with grand news!"

His words bled across hundreds of preachers, echoing from their steel maws, rebounding through the mountain halls to the cheers of his people.

"With the twin blades of diplomacy and war-craft I have laid low our hated rivals above and compelled them to sally forth South! No longer will their paltry raids pester our patrols, no longer will Blackrock be burdened by nonbelievers!"

"Hail the Emperor! Hail Ragnaros! Hail the Empire!" Dwarves beat their chests and howled with glee, rapturous applause shaking the cavernous walls like an earthquake, until he held up a hand for silence.

"Now, my children, my friends, we stand at a crossroads in history! For our long and valiant struggle with the Enemy shall soon come to an end! To the North the cowardly Alliance lies fraying and broken, and the ones who brought them low begged an audience with us. Now, with this accord the rebels begin to fall, no longer propped up by their Alliance masters! The hour soon approaches, the path to glory and dominion is before us, and there is little the Enemy can do to stop us!"

The streets erupted into glorious revelry and heady proclamations of loyalty, oaths of sacrifice and promised justice.

"Yet we must be wary! For though the Enemy shall seek to take advantage of our honorable and fair-minded nature to protect their stolen glory, we know better! No longer shall we tolerate their saboteurs and spies in a bid to enlighten them to the true path. No more, I say! Let us cleanse ourselves in holy fire, let us purge that which is not loyal and true, and when we are done, the march North shall begin!"

Oaths of eternal fealty and adoration spilled out from thousands, hundreds of thousands of mouths, their cries and howls filling the mountain halls.

An image flickered along Thaurissan's back, a gargantuan, looming presence, blistering and terrible and glorious all at once began to bleed into his body and mind, across every preacher and mask in the empire. Their bodies stiffened and flames spilled from their tongues as skin crackled and the roar of an inferno was twisted into words fill the mountain halls.

"So, speaks the Firelord! The Dark Iron shall bear the glory of this Empire to the end of this world and the stars beyond. The foes of truth and justice shall break before our armies of fire and steel. Heed this vessel of purest flame and march in the name of Ragnaros!"

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The Holy City

The Golden Throne was illuminated by dim torchlight, cast in a gentle amber glow as sharp whispers and harsh words flew across the chamber. Rastakhan found exhaustion creeping its way into his senses with this rampant speculation.

"Every Priest of the Northern Loa, and even Gral have grown silent on the savage tribe; they still share with us their blessings and wisdom, but no longer will they speak of them, the Drakkari!" Yazma's words were sharp, and a rictus scowl was etched onto her tattooed features.

"I would almost fear vile magic at work," Zul said gently.

"Lest you have proof, I caution against implying the Loa could be laid so low," Rastakhan groused.

"Forgive me, My Liege. These are merely… unprecedented times."

Rastakhan almost wanted to laugh at the obvious discomfort, caused by the eternal thorn in his side.

"Yes, you failing to predict the invasion and its conclusion is rather new territory. Is it not?"

Rather than leave the prophet to languish in humiliation, Rastakhan leaned forward on his throne and struck the gold to silence the beginnings of a spat between Yazma and Vilnak'dor, drawing all eyes to him as he proclaimed:

"We shall send to the savage tribe's petty chief a small troop of priests and a messenger. Their duty shall be to call him to account as we once did with the Amani's failed chief, for beginning a war without their emperor's consent and to assess the worth of their Priesthood."

Hexlord_Raal suddenly pressed his head to the ground, "God King Rastakhan, may your servant speak?"

Rastakhan inclined his head ever so briefly and said, "I trust you speak in place of Vilnak'dor for a reason?"

"I do, though I beg a thousand pardons in doing so," the Navarch answered.

"Then speak."

"I thank you, God King Rastakhan!" He got up on his knees and said, "With the Northern Kingdoms weakened and an ambitious pretender parading across the continent, I would recommend keeping a close eye on the Gurubashi, lest they be… led astray."

Vilnak'dor hissed, "You think those mewling Jungle Trolls would betray the chosen tribe, the God-King of our people, for some petty tyrant?"

Raal swallowed and answered, "Honor, loyalty and obedience to rank and caste, these things are not well-practiced by the lesser tribes."

Before his general could speak again Rastakhan waved his hand, "They are like children, it is true, loathe as I am to admit. Raal makes a fair argument nonetheless, my general; we shall observe the lesser tribes more closely, and ensure that another mishap like what happened with the forest trolls and their brutish allies does not happen again."

Turning his attention back to the council he said, "This meeting is done. For now, return to your duties. I must commune with Rezan on other matters."

They all bowed and began filing out of the chamber in a neat and orderly manner, the lower castes respectfully parting and making way for the higher caste members to leave first before following behind. Then the guards followed behind as well, leaving only his secret honor guard as his protectors.

Once he was alone on his burdensome throne, as Rastakhan leaned back, he adopted a grim face, his mind filled with frustration as his thoughts frayed, Rezan's presence touching his spirit.

'Why… Why has this upstart not been struck down for his hubris, oh mighty Rezan?' He thought, 'Why is it that he enjoys rewards and prestige and a greatly expanded Empire, while we languish in solitude and sloth as our own glory slowly fades away? Are you displeased with us, somehow?'

The Loa had no answer for him, and Rastakhan sank further into his throne.

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In the shadows of the new dominion, in the backwoods and camps of soldiers-turned-brigands, dulcet tones disguised fangs and claws as word of a new order spread.

The Argus Wake.

Some say it is little better than a brigand order, fit only to pillage and plunder like countless would be villains set to take advantage of the chaos.

Some say it is a secret order, made to resist the oppression of the new Drakkari tyrants who lord over their people with inflated entitlement.

Some say it is nothing but a mere puppet of more diabolical origins, to be used and disposed of according to their masters' whims.

What no one knew was that it was all three at the same time, here to stay, here to act.

And they would act to crush any and all dreams of Drakkari glory ascendant.
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“This… Cannot bode well…”

Watcher Theronus concurred with the junior most of his twin Advisors, if only in the privacy of his own mind.

The trio stood before the monstrous, gargantuan construct that was the Dark Portal, lifeless stone the size of a fort severed as the mere base of the structure. Statues larger than any monument he cared to name stared out into the distance with pulsing green eyes that burn in stone cloak shadows.

At the heart of it all was a roiling, pulsing, thrumming mass of arcane energy swirling like the churning heart of creation.

His other Advisor swallowed, “It has not been so active in near on twenty years, not since Draenor was…”

“Destroyed," Theronus murmured before striking his staff against the dusty ground, humid air swirling around them he continued.

“But it is not active, Draenor is long dead, and the portal cannot be opened from one side alone, not any longer. We shall increase our watches, strengthen the wards, and secure this place against any intrusion.”

Nethergarde Keep would not fail in its duty.

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NOTES: 

So, this chapter basically deals with a bunch of the other factions that couldn't really come into focus in previous chapters and are big enough players that they need some attention, especially with how much is changing. 

The Priests in Zul'Gurub are weird lore wise, the Zandalari said they sent them but they are clearly Jungle Trolls. In this regard my best explanation is that the Gurubashi are kind of more subservient than other troll nations and as a result of that and proximity could send some of their best to study at Zandalar. Whatever the case, the corruption of Hakkar hadn't encompassed them all yet, but they needed a reliable outsider to deal with their corrupted contemporaries and thus, Rend's Horde. Vosh'gajin's lore suggests she's supremely badass and I have no issue leaning into that. Also the surgery to learn things via magic brain stuff was inspired by Hunter X Hunter (OO) 

Edwin's still around, I enjoy the prospect of anti monarchial revolutionaries too much to just toss them out and I like characters having agency over being mere stooges. Also I have some vague ideas for his future role, but for now this is where he is, also yes the support he wants to get is from the Drakkari. 

Its been noted elsewhere that the Dark Horde & Dark Iron fusing, or one absorbing the other, or even just having a treaty would make some sense. So I decided it would happen here, both groups want Blackrock, but also have far more practical focus's in opposite directions and with the Alliance as it is, both are willing to play the long game to get what they want. 

Nefarian's throne room being a wreck is based on canon. I always found it weird so I choose to say he surrounds it in illusions most cant see through but Rend's been around long enough and knew how to counter freaking Gul'Dan, so he's not being fooled by base trickery. Also from an RP I played... Vosh'gajin is Rend & Voone's semi adopted daughter, XD 

The Dark Iron, from the masks to the speeches were heavily inspired by Travelogue's version. I really enjoyed their portrayal and felt they had a distinct vibe I wanted to bring across here, along with conveying that Ragnaros is something of a big deal. 

I mentioned before the Drakkari & Zandalari have a hate hate relationship and that's definitely playing into things here. As is the Zandalari's near total isolation from the outside world, IE they're barely aware of what the Amani are even up to cos they haven't thought to ask. 

More Argus Wake and other foreshadowing, not much to say here but I hope it made sense ;)