Gul'dan longed to wipe the smirk from his leader's face, to show the arrogant warrior the true extent of his magic. But now was not the time.

"Of course not," he did reply, the words still sharp enough to make Doomhammer's gaze narrow. "Watch!" He nodded to Cho'gall, who knelt beside the first body and placed a jeweled truncheon in its cold, stiff hands. Those enchanted weapons had been the most time—consuming part of the process but Gul'dan knew without them his new force would be far less powerful, just as Rakmar had guessed. Fortunately he and Cho'gall had been experimenting with such items already for their own purposes, and so they had merely modified the spells they had planned and adapted the weapons to this new role.

As he and Doomhammer watched, the corpse stirred. Its fingers closed tightly around the truncheon, which began to glow. That light spread to the body's hand, then up along its arm, slowly infusing the entire form with a green aura. And then the corpse opened its eyes.

Doomhammer started slightly, though he made no sound, and this time it was Gul'dan's lips that pulled back in a sneer. Still, he could not blame the warchief for being startled. He found the sight almost unnerving himself, and he had created these creatures.

The corpse slowly rose to its feet, its movements stiff at first but becoming more fluid by the second. It turned glowing red eyes upon Gul'dan, and the orc warlock saw them widen in recognition.

"You have succeeded then, Gul'dan," the creature stated, its words slurred from using an unfamiliar jaw and strange, too—small teeth. It stared down at itself, at its limbs and torso, and raised its empty hand to feel its face. "You have returned my spirit to this world!" It laughed, a harsh sound that was far more orc—like than human. "Excellent!"

"Welcome back, Teron Gorefiend," Gul'dan replied, trying to keep the laughter from his voice. "Yes, I have brought you back, to further serve the Horde."

Doomhammer stepped forward, studying the strange creature before him. "Gorefiend? One of your warlocks from the Shadow Council? I killed him myself."

"We all give ourselves to the Horde," Gul'dan replied mockingly, bowing low so Doomhammer could not see his expression. "Gorefiend's soul had not departed this plane—I merely recalled it and found it a new home. Only now his very body is imbued with sorcery. He is more powerful now than ever, and the other warlocks with him." Cho'gall had continued his task and behind Gorefiend the other bodies were rising as well.

"This, then, is what you give me?" Doomhammer rumbled. "Corpses for warriors, powered by your dead acolytes?" His face twisted in disgust.

"You asked for warriors," Gul'dan reminded him sharply. "I have provided them. They will be a match for anything the humans have and more. And though their bodies may be rotted human flesh, they are still orcs in spirit and in allegiance. And they can still wield their magic as well! Think what they will do in battle!"

Doomhammer nodded slowly, clearly considering. "Will you serve me?" he asked Gorefiend, showing what Gul'dan considered a fatal weakness. Warchiefs did not ask, they commanded. Though perhaps with creatures such as these it was best not to anger them.

Gorefiend considered for a moment, glowing eyes studying the Warchief. At last he nodded. "Gul'dan is correct," he said finally, his voice raspy. "I am still an orc, despite this shell. I live for the Horde, and I will serve you and our people." It grinned, a horrible rictus. "You killed me but I do not hold that against you, for it has resulted in this powerful new form. I am well pleased with the trade." The other bodies nodded behind him.

"Good!" Doomhammer stepped forward and clapped the surprised Gorefiend on the shoulder, a gesture of respect to an equal rather than a subordinate. "You shall be my death knights, the forefront of our great Horde," he informed the reanimated creatures. "Together we will crush the humans and take their lands, making this world safe for our people!" Then he turned and nodded at Gul'dan, though it seemed grudging. "You have done as you promised, Gul'dan," Doomhammer admitted. "You have given me a powerful force against our foes. I thank you for that."

"Of course, noble Doomhammer," Gul'dan replied, hoping he sounded more sincere than he felt. "Anything for our people."

Fool, he thought as he watched Doomhammer stride off, the newly awakened death knights beside him. Take them and go, yes, and return to your war. I have other matters to attend, and now that you are satisfied I will have the freedom to concentrate on them properly. I will play the loyal warlock a while longer, he vowed, but not forever. Soon enough I will have what I seek, and then you and the Horde may crumble away for all I care. I will raise a new race to replace you all, one loyal to me alone, and we shall reshape this world in my image!

A week later Doomhammer addressed the assembled Horde. They were gathered before the fortress Zul'jin told him was called the Blackrock Spire, a massive structure built from the same glossy black stone that dominated the landscape. It stood atop Blackrock Mountain, the tallest of the Burning Steppes mountain range that rose up along the continent, dividing east from west. Zuluhed had led them here, sensing the power within the mountains, and after defeating the handful of dwarves dwelling here, Doomhammer had claimed it. He had felt it was a good omen that this place, which he had selected as the Horde's base, bore the same name as his own clan.

Below him the orcs of every clan were gathered, waiting eagerly to hear what he had to say. They had conquered this land thoroughly, and while that gave them far better hunting and far richer lands than any left back home it was still not enough to contain their entire race comfortably. There was also the question of retaliation—they had driven the humans from this continent but there was no guarantee they would not return with reinforcements and perhaps allies. Doomhammer grinned. But now he had allies of his own.

"My people!" he shouted, raising his hammer high above him. "Hear me!" The crowd quieted, every face turning toward him. "We have taken this land, and it is good!" A cheer erupted, and Doomhammer waited for it to die down before speaking again. "This world is rich with life, and we can raise strong families here!" Another cheer. "Yet it is not without its defenders! The humans are strong and skilled, and fight hard to retain what was theirs." Murmurs of agreement rippled through the Horde. There was no weakness in acknowledging a powerful foe, and the humans were certainly that. Enough orcs had fought them now to agree.

"We must continue our conquest!" Doomhammer told his people, gesturing to the north with his hammer. "Another land, Lordaeron, lies beyond this one, and once we control it our clans may claim territories, settle, craft homes, and raise families again. But first we must take it from the humans! And they will not surrender it lightly." The crowd growled as one, showing its willingness to fight on. Doomhammer quieted them with a raised hand.

"I know that you are strong," he assured them. "I know that you are warriors, and will not falter in battle. But the humans are many, and this time they will be ready for us." He leaned on his hammer. "But they will not be ready for our allies."

He gestured behind him, and Zul'jin stepped forward. The forest troll leader had brought a hundred of his people for this meeting, and they stood now arrayed behind him and Doomhammer, hefting their axes and short, curved swords and wicked broad—bladed spears. "These are the forest trolls," Doomhammer told the orcs below. "They are now part of the Horde, and will fight alongside us! They are as mighty as an ogre but as crafty as an orc, and in woodcraft they are unsurpassed! They will be our guides, our scouts, and our forest warriors!"