The force Anduin assembled was only a thousand soldiers strong. 200 of his personal guard, 300 night elven sentinels and warden, 100 of the Valarjar, led by the Val'kyr, 200 of Dalaran's finest mages, and 200 elite soldiers of the various other races that made up the Empire of Life. Besides them, Anduin stood with all 36 of his wives and personal sex slaves.
A stronger force had never been amassed in all of Azeroth's history.
The people of Stormwind watched as Anduin marched to the grave of his father. Lion's Rest memorial towered over the gleaming host. Wearing his own plate armour, Anduin placed his hand on the altar, under which the keepsakes of his father were buried. There was no body to bring back with his newfound powers, no ashes that had been found, and even if he could have, Anduin did not know if he would have brough him back. His father deserved the rest.
"I'll finish this," Anduin pledged, then stepped away, turning to his gathered army. A single nod towards Azshara, and the naga queen, greatest mage that the world had ever known, began to weave together a massive teleportation spell. All those that could help did, aiding the brilliant woman in her arcane machinations. Jaina, Stellagossa, and Modera were first and foremost among those that helped in putting the circle together, their own arcane knowledge expanded by helping one another master all aspects of the craft.
With the cheers and farewells of the people sounding in their ears, the army was swallowed up by a wave of blue and purple light. One moment, they stood near the waters in Stormwind's eternal summer. The next, they were in a landscape of a different kind of heat. A much drier, desolate kind.
The red sands of Durotar greeted them with vast emptiness. A horn was sounded after a few seconds, a second following soon thereafter. Several of the Valarjar readied themselves to immediately locate the sentinels that had spotted their arrival, but Anduin raised his hand. "Let her know we're coming."
They had arrived at the south-western border of Durotar, where a river separated the desert peninsula from the Badlands. This was as close as they could get without rubbing against Sylvanas' teleportation protections. To brute force their way through those had been an option, but Anduin did not wish to invade in force.
Leading the way on foot, Anduin followed the main road to Ogrimmar. Already, he had sent word to Baine Bloodhoof and the Tauren. They would stand down during this conflict. The blood elves were already on Anduin's side and the goblins would not resist the invading force. The prosperity and sexual liberation that the Empire of Life offered made the short greenskins too interested in joining him.
This left the trolls, orcs, and forsaken as their enemies.
After half a day of marching, the army made tireless by the numerous blessings their good life and the presence of their leadership bestowed them with, they arrived at the gates of the Horde's capital. Tall walls of sharp metal and wood stretched between the entrance to the system of valley that the orcs main city was located in. A singular gate barred them from entrance, over a dozen centimetres thick.
Atop the wall, numerous archers had drawn their bows. "So far and no further," shouted a gruff orcish voice. In the absence of Saurfang, they had found another ork general, it appeared.
Anduin calmly took a step forwards. A hundred arrows were loosened. They froze, were incinerated, turned into motes of light, or were simply blown away by the protective layers of magic that wrapped around the Emperor. "This far and no further," Anduin shouted back. "The divide of Azeroth ends now. Surrender and let me see Sylvanas."
"You are bold, little lion."
The booming voice of the Banshee Queen announced her, moments before she stepped up to the edge of the palisades. She was... sexier than Anduin remembered. Her blue breasts nearly spilled out of the tight confined of the metallic bra, the single article of clothing she wore on her torso. A combination of thigh-high boots, torn stockings, and a thong were all that covered her lower half. The thong barely covered her pussy and Anduin wondered if he was seeing the outline of a dildos base through the stretched fabric. Certain was that her hips were wide and her thighs thick enough to rival Sallys.
The leader of the Horde held an ornate bow in her armoured hands, the only part of her that seemed properly equipped. Pale, greyish-blonde hair framed her deeply attractive face. Her sinister red eyes stared down at him and, for just a moment, she bit her lower lip. The sultry, full purple near immediately returned to a mocking smile.
"If you wish to talk so badly, we will do so on my terms. You come into my city alone, unarmed, and unarmoured."
"I accept," Anduin answered immediately. The people on the wall were more surprised by this then the people behind the Emperor of Life. Swiftly, he rid himself of his twin swords and the thick plate that covered him. In its place, he put on a plain brown robe. Afterwards, he gestured for his army to fall back, to give Sylvanas all the security she wanted.
"Best of luck, Anduin," Jaina hung around for just a moment longer, exchanging a kiss with her husband, before joining everyone else far away from the walls.
"Meet me in the stronghold," Sylvanas declared, as the gate opened.
Anduin walked inside. The thick metal closed quickly behind him again. A circle of orcs, trolls, and forsaken surrounded him, as he marched into the city. Its crude structures greeted him as an example of barbaric architecture. The smell was terrible, the heat of the desert mixing with the lack of sanitary installations to create a vile mix of sweat and excrement.
Although Anduin held no hate for them in his heart, he could not help but find all those that surrounded him ugly. The trolls with their warty faces and long limbs, the orcs with their bent backs and almost piggish faces, and the forsaken with their decay all made for unappetizing sights.
When he entered the stronghold at the centre of the main plaza, the difference was stark. Incense burned to keep the outside smells at bay, replacing them with the simple smell of herbs and whatever else Sylvanas could get her hands on. All advisors besides Sylvanas' core of rangers had been dismissed -- an exclusively female force of fallen elves. They were infinitely better preserved than the average undead. Only the lifeless colour of their skin and their red eyes hinted towards their true nature.
