The sun had already set and the sky was fading from dusk to true dark. Gorefiend glared at the dancing orange and yellow campfire. Things had not gone according to plan, and he was deep in thought, pondering his next move. The others were wisely silent, and the only sound was the crackle of the flames and the occasional soft grunt of quiet conversation. A sudden noise in the darkness made them all leap to their feet, the tension strung taut as a bow.
"Human! Kill him!" came the cry from the orc sent to keep watch. The death knights stayed silent, but the orcs roared, happy to have a target for their frustration. Gorefiend could see the human now, wandering boldly up to their very encampment. Tagar charged him, bringing down his club in a blow that would crush the human's fragile skull.
What happened next stunned them all. Gorefiend watched as the human reached upward, almost languidly, caught the club, and twisted it from the orcs grasp. Tagar gaped at him, then he and the others prepared to lunge again.
The human cried, "Hold!"
Even Gorefiend doubted he could move against the human, such was the power in that single word. Who was this man? Gorefiend watched, curious and not a little concerned, as the human entered the ring of firelight. He would be handsome among his people, Gorefiend thought; tall and well-built for a human, with lustrous black hair and strong yet elegant features. Fine clothing draped his frame and an untouched jeweled sword hung at his side. He grimaced slightly and brushed something from his sleeve.
“I know you'd like nothing better than to attack me again, but you've sullied my clothing enough for one night. I don't fancy getting your blood on it." He smiled, a slow, dangerous smile that revealed perfect teeth. "I'm not quite what I seem, you see." His shadow flickered behind him, then suddenly seemed to rise up, growing monstrous in size and shape, great shadow-wings spreading all around them.
"Who are you?" Gorefiend demanded.
"I've been known by many names." The grin widened. "One of them … is Deathwing."
Deathwing! Gorefiend's mind reeled. He didn't question the statement, bizarre as it sounded; he'd already felt the faintest hint of Deathwing's power. Gorefiend had heard of the mighty black dragon, perhaps the single most powerful creature on Azeroth. They had seen black dragons a few times during the war, and Gorefiend had always wondered why the Dragonmaw clan hadn't captured them instead of the reluctant red dragons. He had suspected they were either too difficult a target or that doing so would awaken Deathwing's wrath.
Gorefiend tried to speak, but could not, so stunned and horrified was he. He tried again. "Wh-what do you want with us?"
Deathwing waved a beringed hand airily. "Calm yourself," he replied, slightly contemptuously. "I have not come to slay you, else you would be mere ash already." His eyes glowed from within for an instant, hinting at the vast fires that lurked beneath that human facade. "Quite the contrary. I have been watching you, and I like what I see." He spread a kerchief on a nearby rock, then settled himself beside the fire and motioned for them to do the same. They obeyed, slowly. "You have great strength and impressive focus." He grinned at them. "I would very much like to behold the world that gave rise to such a fierce and determined people."
Gorefiend studied their uninvited guest. Was Deathwing asking to visit Draenor? Why?
As if reading his mind, Deathwing turned to meet Gorefiend's gaze, and nodded. His dark eyes were hooded, the power within banked, and for the moment he seemed merely a self-assured human. "I know of your meeting with the one called Rend Blackhand," Deathwing said softly "Idiots, he and his brother both. But not without their own power. And I know you desired the red dragons the Dragonmaw clan has… enslaved." The corners of his mouth turned up at that last word, as if the very idea delighted him. "Substandard beasts, in my opinion. I don't know why you're bothering with them."
Gorefiend wasn't sure how to respond. "Dragons are powerful beings," he began cautiously.
"Indeed we are. You wish for allies? Then I have an offer for you. My mighty children shall lend you their aid, and willingly rather than under duress."
One of the orcs, obviously anxious to please the unexpected guest, hesitantly offered Deathwing a mug of ale. The great creature frowned terribly, glaring at the orc. "Take that putrid stuff away!" Cowed, the orc retreated. Deathwing composed himself, turning his banked-fire eyes to Gorefiend. "Where was I? Oh yes. I will lend you the aid of my children. In return, I demand safe passage through the Dark Portal, and aid in transporting some cargo through there as well."
"You want to go to Draenor?" Tagar burst out. "Why?"
The smile Deathwing turned upon the Bonechewer chieftain froze any further interruptions in the orc’s throat. "My plans are my own, orc," the dragon-man said quietly, his voice almost a hiss. "But don't worry. It will not hinder your own plotting."
Gorefiend considered the offer. He needed dragons, whatever their color, for their plan to work. If he accepted the bargain, he would not need to deal with Rend again after all, though he might pound some humility into the self-styled warchief later if he had the chance. He didn't know what Deathwing was up to, but as long as it didn't interrupt their own plans he didn't see a problem with granting the dragon's request.
"Very well, Deathwing," he said finally.
"Lord Deathwing." He smiled without humor, and there was an edge to his voice. "Let's observe the proprieties, shall we?"
Gorefiend inclined his head. "Of course, Lord Deathwing. I agree. We will give your — people and cargo safe passage. But first I have a mission to accomplish in the north. I need to retrieve some cargo of my own."
"Very well," Deathwing agreed. He rose gracefully to his feet. "I will speak to my children and inform them of this bargain. When I return, I shall help expedite this task of yours." He dusted his hands off, although he had touched nothing, and without another word he strode into the shadows.
"Right," Gorefiend said after a moment, when he was sure the dragon was gone and not about to leap out at them from the darkness. "Let's pack up. We need to get moving, and we don't have much time."' The others hastened to obey, all of them clearly happy to focus their attention upon breaking camp rather than on the strange figure who had just allied himself with them. Gorefiend just hoped Deathwing really was an ally — if he proved otherwise, there was nothing they could do to stop him.
Two figures, male and female, turned at Deathwing's approach as they waited, not far from the orc’s encampment. The man was powerfully made and wore a short dark beard and neat mustache, while the woman was petite and had pale skin and long flowing straight hair. Both had glossy black hair and features similar to those Deathwing sported in his human guise.
'What news, Father?" the woman asked, her voice like silk over iron.
"They have agreed, as I knew they would, Onyxia," Deathwing replied. He stroked his daughter's cheek and she leaned her face into his hand, smiling up at him. "Soon we shall have two worlds at our disposal instead of one." He kissed her pale brow, then turned to her brother. "But I have another task for you while I am gone."
"Name it, Father," the man replied, "and it shall be done."
Deathwing smiled. "There are still orcs within Blackrock Spire. They have severed ties with their kin, and refuse to rejoin the Horde. That leaves them ripe for the plucking." His smile widened as he reached out to clasp his son by the shoulder. "When I return, Nefarian, I want this Rend Blackhand. You two will take control of the mountain and the orcs living in it. They will become our servants."