Thunder cracked as water poured down onto the arid soil in the Blasted Lands. It's been a couple of hours since Walter had left the camp and there was already results. At first nothing happened then the iron demolishers ceased firing before they all imploded with a crackling fury. Katherine had gone to a vantage point to provide support for the assaulting troops who charged the ironclad orcs. From there, things had turned around as they slow and steadily pushed the Iron Horde backed.

Also, General Warwelde of Wrynn's Vanguard finally passed from the Swamp of Sorrows into the Blasted Lands. Opening up another front to fight The Iron Horde as supplies were deprived for the Iron Horde forces at Orkri'lon Hold and the ruins of Nethergarde Keep. The Dreadmaul ogres had sided with the Iron Horde but were constantly harassed by Rokhan and his fellow shadow hunters while Thrall personally lead the Horde forces to keep the pressure upon the Iron Horde's ranks. However their efforts will be for nothing as more forces comes through The Dark Portal.

Katherine glanced over to the now properly sober dark iron dwarf who refused to do manual labor instead of fighting. Ironton's father was furious to say the least that his son was conscripted and had dispatched his company enforcers to bring him home. The enforcers in question were Steam Warriors, mechanics whom take their skills to the battlefield by building walking suits of phlogiston-powered armor.

However, Ironton refused to leave and had promptly given the head enforcer a run for his money but that didn't stop them from trying. The enforcers eventually gave up trying to bring him home and instead focused on keeping him safe and his father reluctantly provided his son with the finest dark iron plate which gold can buy and was now wielding the fabled Arcanite reaper. Katherine hadn't considered Ironton intimidating when he was a drunk but now he most certainly was intimidating and with his father's enforcers ready to do his every whim.

Katherine flinched then as thunder resonated in the sky above, the clouds had grown thicker as lightning now struck at The Iron Horde. She recognized the work of shamans where they ask the elements for assistance. "Oi, lass."

Her attention snapped back to Ironton who was now facing her with two of the steam warriors by either side of him. "Ye kicked my bloody obsidians!" he spoke rather scoldingly at her as he lifted the axe. Katherine thought that he would swing it at her but instead swung it hard to keep it steady into the soil. She blinked as he spoke with his accented gravity "Although I did deserve it, I called you something which I shouldn't have."

With those words he extended his right hand to her. "Truce?" he asked, she stared at him but gave him a nod. "Truce." Irontin smirked. "Well then, all set to kick some iron gits in their obsidians?" This made her laugh as she complied. It was better than waiting in the camp. Also, she needs to find Walter and get some answers.

His feet touches the soil lightly as he strode forth with his trusted four-footed companion. He routinely drew the arrow from the quiver and notched it to the string. Pulling it back with no difficulty, his broad and strong posture keeping him steady as the thorium arrowheads is ready to pierce through the armor of an unsuspecting enemy. He remained out of sight and thanked the elemental spirit of life for its gift. He let loose and the arrow flew and as expected, pierced through the armor and penetrated the lungs of the mag'har orc who drowned in a pool of blood. His four-footed companion sprung to action, leaping forth with his fangs and teethes bare. He rose from cover as his voice boomed. "Lok'tar ogar! For The Horde!" as he notched another arrow and let it fly. The arrow flew true and hits its mark, another kill. His companion had already slit the throat of the dishonourable shaman whom forced the elements into servitude and proceed to chase another prey.

Each time the arrow flew, it hit its mark. He had always been a good hunter and now. He was among the finest of his clan and was even more deadly than the Sin'dorei archers when it came to using a bow. He was Vargmar and he was hunting those whom dared to invade the world he was born in. He was raised in the Alterac Valley with the Frostwolf Clan and had passed the rite of adulthood and befriended the frostwolf wolfgrim whom he treasured like a brother. He followed Thrall devoutly throughout the Third War. He survived the Second War of the Shifting Sand where the Might of Kalimdor, a combined army of Alliance and Horde against the Qiraji. He declined the offer to be a part of the Kor'kron Guard as he ventured back to Alterac Valley where his clan nowadays resides under the guidance of Drek'thar which now had grown old, too old to lead like he used too.

Rokhan emerged with a half dozen shadow hunters, quickly decimating the Iron Horde convey with their ambush. Vargmar gave a satisfied smirk at the sight. They've been harassing the Dreadmaul Ogres for a while now and managed to intercept any convoys made by the Iron Horde to keep them supplied. Wolfgrim came back up to his side where upon arrival he was rewarded by being scratched behind the ears. "Lok'tar." He murmured to the wolf as they came down to the convoy, starting to rummage through the supplies. He found some dried meat which he gave to Wolfgrim whom devoured it momentarily.

"Ya' be doing good, mon." spoke Rokhan, the best scout of The Horde with a satisfied grin. "Your arrows struck as if the loa themselves guided them." Vargmar returned a chuckle as he shook his head. "No, my hand was steady and my aim was true."

He ventured all over as to retrieve the arrows and while doing so, each time he asked the spirits of the wilds for forgiveness as he examined the uncorrupted orcs along with the tattoos on them. It was undisputable, these were of the Warsong Clan. He had so many questions to ask but then his eye caught something. A missive tucked away on one of the bodies, he took it and gave it a quick read.

The Warchief wants to know the progress on the invasion. It's taking too long and if it takes any longer then I'll see to your demise, personally.

Blackhand

He stared at the missive as he read it again and again, Blackhand. He had heard the stories about the Old Horde and how it was ruled by the Shadow Council along with their puppet warchief, Blackhand the Destroyer. But he died in a Mak'gora with Orgrim Doomhammer many years ago. "Rokhan, I need to deliver this to Thrall. I'll return to you when I can."

"Don't sweat it, Vargmar. We got it covered." The Shadow hunter smirked as the Hunter was off in a sprint with his wolf companion quickly catching up. Heading southwards towards the Vanguard.

He hated the déjà vu he gets by watching them. How the uncorrupted orcs of The Iron Horde was determined to be conquerors no matter the consequences. It reminds him of the Daleks in a way but he wasn't going to make the comparison.

Archon was watching in silence from a ridge upon Wrynn's Vanguard which had quickly broken through The Iron Horde's barricade between the Blasted Lands and the Swamp of Sorrows. The shieldwall pushing the would-be conquerers backwards and now had Okril'lon Hold under siege while a token force was heading towards the ruins of Nethergarde Keep to clear out the remaining hostiles there. It had been quick and effective as it utilized every possible advantage granted with the diverse amount of races in the Alliance ranks. From what he understood, General Adolphus Warwelde led by example and was a veteran of many conflicts.

The man itself was a soldier to the bone, wielding a shield and a sword as he personally saw to the battles he led his soldiers into. He was respected not only by The Alliance but also The Horde as his honor was indisputable. Dusting off his Gallifreyan armor as he slides down from the ridge and down to join the Alliance forces. The soldiers gave him odd looks but didn't really pay him much heed, the battle itself needed their attention. He was soon approached by what seemed to be an aristocratic officer whose plain indifference to the battle a few leagues away was astounding as he wore the helmet under his arm. "Identify yourself stranger." He bellowed in demand to the Time Lord.

"I'm the Archon." He answered to the aristocratic officer who frowned. "The who?" he inquired with a frown where the Time Lord just smiled politely. "Do you want me to write it down for you?"

"No, it's fine. I've heard of paladins using suffixes such as Uther the Lightbringer. However, you didn't say your name." The officer said as he unwavering stared at him as the battle raged on a few hundred meters away. "That was my name."

"The Archon?" He spoke with a skeptical tone.

"Yes?" the Time Lord responded with a mocking tone as if the officer wanted to ask him a question. The officer sighed. "What do you want?"

"To see General Warwelde." The Time Lord said plainly to the Officer who dropped the indifferent façade, he was slightly baffled by the request. "Impossible, he's current occupied leading the battle-" Archon promptly responded without fail. "Which I can win for him if he let me." The officer gazed him up and down then sighed. "Very well then, sir. Follow me."

He was quickly lead through the ranks of Wrynn's Vanguards while being escorted by the officer until he saw the General. He had his back facing towards him and shrouded with a blue mantel. His armor was like the soldiers but of a different material along being more polished. "General Warwelde, sir." The officer barked and stood at attention, saluting as the General turned around, carrying the crest for Wrynn's Vanguard upon his chest. "At ease, Lieutenant Cromwell." The man bellowed, the description of the man had hardly done him any justice. The man was in his forties but carried around like he was younger, like if he had daily exercised drills and served without a day's rest. His beard was thick and so was his eyebrows while the hair was short and well-groomed.

"Hello General, I'm The Archon and nevermind what or exactly who I am. All that matters is that I can win this battle for you." The Time Lord spoke without fail and the General listened. "You've my attention."

"I intend to issue a mak'gora." Archon spoke with a tone where the gravity and authority was undisputed. The General just eyed him up and down. "So, you're him then?" he inquired as he examined the Time Lord skeptically. "If you mean the Time Lord whom gave the opening needed for the Alliance and Horde forces south of here to break through and allow you to open up this second front. Then yes."

"Go ahead then, Archon." The General answered. Lieutenant Cromwell just stared at him in surprised but Archon smiled. He was impressed, the General obviously knew when there was a battle he couldn't win, even if it's a battle of wills. He then walked pasted him as he brings his sonic disruptor up as he proceeded to adjust the settings as he spoke through it as an amplifier. "Throm'ka! I'm the Archon and I wish to issue a Mak'gora with your leader."

It didn't take long for the battle to stop as an orc's voice boomed. "I, Gar'muk Bladetwist commands the Ironmarch!" Archon then proceeded to walk past the soldiers and soon enough stood before the orc in question, not clad in plate but in leather with body tattoos which resemble those of the Warsong Clan if he was correct. The orc grinned viciously at him. "You wish to fight me in a mak'gora?"

"I do on the conditions that if I win, your forces in Okril'lon will surrender." He demanded but the orc laughed. "Victory or Death, we will not surrender to these pigskins or their allies." Gar'mak boomed with his voice for his forces and the Alliance to hear but the Time Lord didn't keep his silence. "You won't surrender to them, you'll surrender to me." His voice boomed as silence soon fell upon the orc and the Ironmarch. "If you're not human then what are you?" he spoke mockingly.

"I'm a Time Lord of Gallifrey. I've survived a war where creation itself was at stake. Now do tell me, do I look like I'm joking?" The Archon murmured as his eyes scrutinized the orcs deeply whose face fell with the realization. Gar'muk frowned then nodded. "If I win, then your forces will submit to the Iron Horde."

"Done." He said without a beat, confident in his abilities then again so was Gar'mak whom raised his daggers and spurted towards the Time Lord "Lok'tar ogar!" Archon reacted momentarily as he quickly adjusted his stance as he lifted and grasped the blades of the dagger and twisted them out of the orc's grip before thrusting his knee to the orc's face. Now do keep in consideration that the Gallifreyan armor itself is ten times more resilient than an armor made of a dragon's scales and superior to what Azeroth uses. The orc crashed into the soil, the impact from the knee had shattered his tusk and dislodged plenty of his teeth. The Time Lord quickly placed his foot upon the orc's chest as he looked over to the rest of the orcs who stared at him with disbelief. "Well, do you surrender?" his voice boomed with authority and soon enough, the corrupted orcs did lower their weapons and accepted the defeat while the uncorrupted orcs reluctantly gave in aswell.

General Warwelde stood back, having witnessed everything he found himself impressed over how the Time Lord had handled the situation and solved it in a manner which he would've considered unthinkable. "Swords of Wrynn!" his voice boomed. "Claps them in irons!"

Note: Thank you for the read. I hope you've enjoyed this chapter whenever you had the time to read it. I've introduced two new OCs to the story. Vargmar and General Adolphus Warwelde. That makes it up to Five OCs in the story so far! Now as for the story, next chapter will involve the actual assault upon the Dark Portal (basically the intro experience in Tanaan Jungle) from there it'll be Shadowmoon Valley with General Adolphus Warwelde as the Garrison Commander.

Now, I'd actually like to know what you think, so please write a review so I can keep the quality of the story intact so don't be afraid of providing with criticism!