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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 aion gold the cot and offering a goblet. 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 aion power leveling before both of the ogre's heads nodded. “What? How?” 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 kismanup 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 aion gold guard as the first two dragged Gul'dan from the tent.
“Where are you taking 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.
“I thank you, King Terenas,” Lothar replied formally, reining his anger back in. He was not sure what to do next. Fortunately, Terenas was.
“I will summon my neighboring kings,” he announced. “These events aion power leveling concern us all.” He turned back toward Varian. “Your Majesty, I offer you my home and my protection for as long as you shall need it,” he stated, loud enough for all to hear. “When you are ready, know that Lordaeron will assist you in reclaiming your kingdom.”
Lothar nodded. “Your Majesty, you are most generous,” he said on Varian's behalf, “and I can think of no safer and finer place for my prince to reach his maturity than here in Capital City. Know, however, that we did not come here merely for sanctuary. We came to warn you.” He stood tall, his voice rumbling across the room, his eyes not aion gold leaving Lordaeron's king. “For know this—the Horde will not stop at Stormwind. They mean to claim the entire world, and they have the might and the numbers to make their dream a reality. Nor do they lack magical might. Once they have finished with my homeland—” His voice grew deeper and rougher and he forced himself to continue. “They will find a way across the ocean. And they will come here.”
“You are telling us to prepare for war,” Terenas said quietly. It was not a question, but Lothar answered nonetheless.
“Yes.” He looked around at the assembled men. “A war for the very survival of our race.”
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