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Doomhammer aion gold aion power leveling grunted. “You have never demonstrated obedience before,” he pointed out sharply. “Why should I believe you capable of it now?”

“Because you need me,” Gul'dan replied, raising his head to meet the warchief's glare. “You have slain my Shadow Council, yes, and consolidated your power over the Horde. That is as it should be. Blackhand was not strong enough to lead us on his own. You are, and so you have no need of a council.” He licked his lips. “But you aion gold do need warlocks. You need our magic, for the humans have magic of their own and without us you will fall to their power.” He shook his head. “And you have very few warlocks left. Myself, Cho'gall, and a handful of neophytes. I am too useful to kill simply for revenge.”

Doomhammer's lips pulled back in a snarl, but he lowered the hammer. For a moment he said nothing, simply glaring at Gul'dan, his gray eyes filled with hate. But finally he nodded.

“What you aion power leveling say is true,” he admitted, though the words clearly took enormous self-control to utter. “And I will place the needs of the Horde over my own.” He bared his tusks. “I will allow you to live, Gul'dan, you and those of your warlocks who remain. But kismanup only as long as you prove useful.”
“Yes?” the man on the throne called out as they approached. “Who are you and what do you wish of me? Ah.” Even from here Lothar could see the king's strangely colored eyes, blue and aion gold green swirled together—they were sharp and clear, and his hopes rose still further. Here was a man who saw well and clearly.

“Your Majesty,” Lothar replied, his deep voice carrying easily across the large room. He stopped several paces from the dais and bowed. “I am Anduin Lothar, a Knight of Stormwind. This is my companion, Khadgar of Dalaran.” He heard several murmurs from the crowd now behind them. “And this”—he turned so that the king could see Varian, aion power leveling who had been standing behind him, unnerved by the crowd and the strange trappings—“is Prince Varian Wrynn, heir to the throne of Stormwind.” The murmurs turned to gasps as people realized the youth was visiting royalty, but Lothar ignored them, concentrating only on the king. “We must speak with you, your Majesty. It is a matter of great urgency and major import.”

“Of course.” Terenas was already rising from his throne and approaching them. “Leave us, please,” aion gold he asked the rest of the crowd, though it was an order despite its polite wording. The people obeyed quickly, and soon only a handful of nobles and guards remained. The men who had accompanied Lothar faded back to the sides as well, leaving only Lothar, Khadgar, and Varian when Terenas closed the distance between them.

“Your Majesty,” Terenas greeted Varian, bowing to him as to an equal.

“Your Majesty,” Varian replied, his training overcoming his shock.

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Gul'dan aion gold aion power leveling cowered, thinking fast. He had known Doomhammer could become a problem. The powerful orc warrior was too intelligent, too honorable, too noble to be easily swayed or controlled. He had been second to Blackhand, the powerful Blackrock leader Gul'dan had chosen as his puppet for the Horde leadership. Blackhand had been an extremely powerful fighter but had thought himself clever and thus had been easily controlled. Gul'dan and his Shadow Council had been the real powers, and Gul'dan had ruled the council as aion gold easily as he did their warchief.

But not Doomhammer. He had refused to follow, carving his own path with reckless abandon equaled only by his loyalty to their people. Clearly he had seen what occurred behind the scenes, witnessed what he considered corruption. And when he had finally seen enough, when he could endure no more, he had acted.

Clearly Doomhammer had chosen his moment carefully. With Gul'dan out of the way, Blackhand had been vulnerable. How he had discovered the Shadow Council's location was unclear, aion power leveling but obviously he had done so and then had eliminated most of them. Leaving Gul'dan, Cho'gall, and who knew what others.

And now he stood over Gul'dan, hammer raised, ready to destroy him as well.

“Wait!” Gul'dan cried out, both hands raising automatically to shield his face and head from harm. “Please, I beg you!”

That made Doomhammer pause. “You, the mighty Gul'dan, beg? Very well, dog, beg! Beg for your life!” The hammer had not lowered, but at least it had not fallen. Yet.

“Yes?” the man on the kismanup throne aion gold called out as they approached. “Who are you and what do you wish of me? Ah.” Even from here Lothar could see the king's strangely colored eyes, blue and green swirled together—they were sharp and clear, and his hopes rose still further. Here was a man who saw well and clearly.

“Your Majesty,” Lothar replied, his deep voice carrying easily across the large room. He stopped several paces from the dais and bowed. “I am Anduin Lothar, a Knight of Stormwind. This is my companion, Khadgar of Dalaran.” He heard aion power leveling several murmurs from the crowd now behind them. “And this”—he turned so that the king could see Varian, who had been standing behind him, unnerved by the crowd and the strange trappings—“is Prince Varian Wrynn, heir to the throne of Stormwind.” The murmurs turned to gasps as people realized the youth was visiting royalty, but Lothar ignored them, concentrating only on the king. “We must speak with you, your Majesty. It is a matter of great urgency and major import.”

“Of course.” Terenas was already rising from aion gold his throne and approaching them. “Leave us, please,” he asked the rest of the crowd, though it was an order despite its polite wording. The people obeyed quickly, and soon only a handful of nobles and guards remained. The men who had accompanied Lothar faded back to the sides as well, leaving only Lothar, Khadgar, and Varian when Terenas closed the distance between them.

“Your Majesty,” Terenas greeted Varian, bowing to him as to an equal.

“Your Majesty,” Varian replied, his training overcoming his shock.

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Then, aion gold aion power leveling suddenly, all changed. With a gasp the orc sat bolt upright, the furs falling away from his sweat-drenched body. His eyes opened, glassy and unseeing at first, then blinking away the long sleep and glancing around him.

“Where—?” the orc demanded. A larger figure was already moving to his side, both heads registering pleased surprise, and as the orc's gaze caught him the eyes sharpened, as did the features. Whatever confusion had lingered was gone, replaced by cunning and rage. “Where am I?” he demanded. “What has happened?”

“You were asleep, Gul'dan,” the other creature replied, kneeling by the cot and offering a goblet. aion gold The orc grabbed it sniffed it, and tossed back the contents with a grunt, wiping a hand across his mouth afterward. “A sleep like death. For weeks now you have not moved, have barely breathed. We thought your spirit gone.”

“Did you, now?” Gul'dan grinned. “Were you afraid I would leave you, Cho'gall? Abandon you to Blackhand's tender mercies?”

The two-headed ogre mage glared at him. “Blackhand is dead, Gul'dan!” one head snapped. The other frantically nodded agreement.

“Dead?” At first Gul'dan thought he had misheard, but Cho'gall's grim expressions convinced him even before both of the ogre's heads nodded. kismanup “What? How?” aion power leveling He pulled himself up to a sitting position, though the motion made him reel and break out in a cold sweat. “What has happened while I slept?”

Cho'gall began to answer but his words died as someone thrust aside the tent flap and burst into the small, dim space. Two burly orc warriors shoved Cho'gall out of the way and roughly grabbed Gul'dan's arms, hauling him to his feet. The ogre began to protest, rage darkening his twinned features, but two more orcs squeezed into the tight space and barred his path, heavy battleaxes at the ready. They stood guard as the first two dragged Gul'dan from the tent.

“Where are you taking aion gold me?” he demanded, trying to wrest his arms free. It was no use, however. Even at full health he would not have been a match for either warrior, and now he could barely hold himself upright. They were dragging him as much as leading him and he saw that he was being taken toward a large, well-crafted tent. Blackhand's tent.
“Yes?” the man on the throne called out as they approached. “Who are you and what do you wish of me? Ah.” Even from here Lothar could see the king's strangely colored eyes, blue and green swirled together—they were sharp and clear, and his hopes rose still further. Here was a man who saw well and clearly. aion power leveling

“Your Majesty,” Lothar replied, his deep voice carrying easily across the large room. He stopped several paces from the dais and bowed. “I am Anduin Lothar, a Knight of Stormwind. This is my companion, Khadgar of Dalaran.” He heard several murmurs from the crowd now behind them. “And this”—he turned so that the king could see Varian, who had been standing behind him, unnerved by the crowd and the strange trappings—“is Prince Varian Wrynn, heir to the throne of Stormwind.” The murmurs turned to gasps as people realized the youth was visiting royalty, but Lothar ignored them, concentrating only on the king. “We must speak with aion gold you, your Majesty. It is a matter of great urgency and major import.”

“Of course.” Terenas was already rising from his throne and approaching them. “Leave us, please,” he asked the rest of the crowd, though it was an order despite its polite wording. The people obeyed quickly, and soon only a handful of nobles and guards remained. The men who had accompanied Lothar faded back to the sides as well, leaving only Lothar, Khadgar, and Varian when Terenas closed the distance between them.

“Your Majesty,” Terenas greeted Varian, bowing to him as to an equal.

“Your Majesty,” Varian replied, his training overcoming his shock.

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“It aion gold aion power leveling has shown me the path to great power,” Gul'dan admitted, lust clear in his eyes. But Doomhammer knew it was not an ordinary lust, not for females or fine food or wealth. Gul'dan thought only of power, and would do anything to obtain it. His actions on their own world had proven that.

“Power for you or for the Horde?” Doomhammer demanded.

“For both,” the warlock replied. His voice dropped to a sly whisper. “I have seen a place, ancient beyond aion power leveling kismanup imagining, older even than the sacred mountain of our homeworld. It lies deep beneath the waves, and within it rests a power that could reshape this world. We could claim it as our own, and none can stand against us!”

“None can stand against us now,” Doomhammer growled back. “And I prefer the honest might of hammer and axe to whatever foul sorceries you have uncovered. Look what your scheming did to our world, and to our people, the last time! I aion gold will not have you destroy them further or wreck this new world just as we have begun to conquer it!”

“This is far greater than your desires,” the warlock snapped, his temper brushing aside any pretense of servility. “My destiny lies beneath the water, and there is little you can do to stop that! This Horde is but the first step in our people's path, and it shall be I who lead them beyond here, not you!”
They rode on through the city, navigating its aion power leveling broad streets easily. Khadgar did indeed seem to know the way, and never slowed to ask directions or puzzle over a turn until they had reached the palace itself. There they surrendered their horses to some of their companions, leaving them to mind the steeds. Lothar and Prince Varian were already striding up the palace's wide steps and Khadgar quickly joined them.

They stepped through the palace's outer doors and into a wide courtyard, almost aion gold an outdoor hall. Viewing boxes lined the sides, and though empty now Lothar was sure they filled with people during celebrations. At the far end another short flight of steps led up to a second set of doors, and these opened onto the throneroom itself.

It was an imposing chamber, its arched ceiling so high overhead its edges were lost in shadow. The room was round, with arches and columns everywhere. Golden sunlight streamed down from a stained-glass aion power leveling panel set in the ceiling's center, illuminating the intricate pattern in the floor: a series of nested circles, each one different, with a triangle at their middle overlapping the innermost ring, and the golden seal of Lordaeron within that. It had several high balconies and Lothar guessed these were for nobles but also appreciated their strategic value. A few guards with bows could easily strike anywhere in the room from those vantage points.

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Doomhammer aion gold aion power leveling grinned. That, at least, was ended now. He had not been pleased at being forced to kill Blackhand. He had been the warchief's Second and sworn to fight beside him, not against him. But tradition allowed a warrior to challenge his chieftain for supremacy and Doomhammer had finally been forced to take that route. He had won, as he knew he must, and with the blow that crushed Blackhand's skull he had taken control of their clan—and of the Horde.

That had left the Shadow Council to aion power leveling deal with. And that had been a pleasure.

He chuckled at the memory. Few orcs had even known of the council's existence, much less its membership and sanctuary. But Doomhammer had guessed whom to ask. The half-orc Garona kismanup had been tortured into revealing the council's location—no doubt her non-orc blood made her too weak to withstand much. The look on the warlocks' faces as he had burst into their meeting had been priceless. And even moreso their expressions as he had advanced through the aion gold room, slaughtering them left and right. Doomhammer had shattered the power of the Shadow Council that day. He would not be controlled as Blackhand had. He would choose his own battles and make his own plans, not to increase anyone's power but to ensure his people's survival.

As if thinking of him had been a summons, Doomhammer spotted two figures approaching him down the broad, bloodied street. One was shorter than an average orc, the other far taller and with a strange shape. Doomhammer aion power leveling knew them at once and his lips curled away from his tusks in a sneer.

They rode on through the city, navigating its broad streets easily. Khadgar did indeed seem to know the way, and never slowed to ask directions or puzzle over a turn until they had reached the palace itself. There they surrendered their horses to some of their companions, leaving them to mind the steeds. Lothar and Prince Varian were already striding up the palace's wide steps and Khadgar quickly joined them.

They aion gold stepped through the palace's outer doors and into a wide courtyard, almost an outdoor hall. Viewing boxes lined the sides, and though empty now Lothar was sure they filled with people during celebrations. At the far end another short flight of steps led up to a second set of doors, and these opened onto the throneroom itself.

It was an imposing chamber, its arched ceiling so high overhead its edges were lost in shadow. The room was round, with arches and columns everywhere. Golden sunlight aion power leveling streamed down from a stained-glass panel set in the ceiling's center, illuminating the intricate pattern in the floor: a series of nested circles, each one different, with a triangle at their middle overlapping the innermost ring, and the golden seal of Lordaeron within that. It had several high balconies and Lothar guessed these were for nobles but also appreciated their strategic value. A few guards with bows could easily strike anywhere in the room from those vantage points.

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Orgrim aion gold aion power leveling Doomhammer, chieftain of the Blackrock clan and warchief of the Horde, surveyed the scene. He stood near the center of Stormwind as his warriors destroyed the once-great city around him. Everywhere he turned kismanup there was destruction and devastation. Buildings burned despite being made of stone. Bodies and rubble littered the street. Blood flowed across the flagstones, pooling here and there. Screams indicated that survivors had been found and were being tortured.

Doomhammer aion power leveling nodded. It was good.

Stormwind had been an imposing city and a powerful obstacle. For a time he had not been sure they could topple its great walls or overwhelm its stalwart defenders. Despite the Horde's superior numbers, the humans had fought back with skill and determination. Doomhammer respected them for that. They had been worthy opponents.

Yet they had fallen, as all must, before his people's might. The city had been breached, its defenders killed or run aion gold off, and now this land was theirs. This rich, fertile land, so like their own homeworld had been before the cataclysm. Before Gul'dan and his folly had destroyed it.

Doomhammer's thoughts turned grim and his grip tightened on his fabled hammer. Gul'dan! The treacherous shaman-turned-warlock had caused more trouble than he was worth. Only his opening the rift to this new world had saved him from being torn apart by enraged clansmen. Yet somehow the schemer had turned even aion power leveling that to his advantage.
They rode on through the city, navigating its broad streets easily. Khadgar did indeed seem to know the way, and never slowed to ask directions or puzzle over a turn until they had reached the palace itself. There they surrendered their horses to some of their companions, leaving them to mind the steeds. Lothar and Prince Varian were already striding up the palace's wide steps and Khadgar quickly joined them.

They stepped through the palace's aion gold outer doors and into a wide courtyard, almost an outdoor hall. Viewing boxes lined the sides, and though empty now Lothar was sure they filled with people during celebrations. At the far end another short flight of steps led up to a second set of doors, and these opened onto the throneroom itself.

It was an imposing chamber, its arched ceiling so high overhead its edges were lost in shadow. The room was round, with arches and columns everywhere. Golden sunlight streamed aion power leveling down from a stained-glass panel set in the ceiling's center, illuminating the intricate pattern in the floor: a series of nested circles, each one different, with a triangle at their middle overlapping the innermost ring, and the golden seal of Lordaeron within that. It had several high balconies and Lothar guessed these were for nobles but also appreciated their strategic value. A few guards with bows could easily strike anywhere in the room from those vantage points.

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