The wizard stepped within biting range. With continued calm, he stretched out his hand. "Come on, my friend," Rhonin murmured, "Come on...."

The reptile sniffed it, the jaws large enough to snap off Rhonin's entire arm keeping respectfully shut. The great nostrils ran along the length of the hand and even the arm, in some cases leaving traces of mucus that the human patently ignored.

Then, the lead raptor stepped back and let out an odd, barking sound to the other assembled creatures.

As one, the assembled creatures lowered their heads nearly to the ground... and then turned their baleful gazes to Grim Batol.

Rhonin chuckled darkly. He looked back at Iridi. "It appears we have a ready-made army." the wizard commented with a twinkle in his eye. "I wonder how best we can use it."

Vereesa wound her way from one passage to the next, aware that she descended deeper and deeper into the mount without yet any sign to show that her quarry was near. She had thought that she would find some trace leading to Zendarin, but instead the passages through which she journeyed seemed more and more unused, and when the ranger attempted to navigate back from one, she only ended up in yet another unfamiliar tunnel.

Sometimes it is as if Grim Batol itself is alive and toying with all of us, good and evil, Vereesa thought. She knew of legends of such places, areas said to have intelligences of their own, often because they had been repositories for great magic. Certainly, that qualified Grim Batol. There were few places in Azeroth so drenched in such energies for so long.

Determined to find her way, the high elf began using the tiny blade to leave small marks in the walls that she would recognize. Each time she turned a corner, Vereesa also made certain to mark which side was on her right. In this way, the ranger was certain that she would not remain lost.

But when one passage abruptly ended—forcing her to turn back —Vereesa was unable to locate her marks. She stepped back, reaffirmed what direction she should head, and stubbornly pushed on.

However, Vereesa soon saw nothing she recognized and, worse, an attempt to return proved just as vexing as before.

Then, somewhere in the distance, the ranger heard what sounded like skardyn. While at one point she would have kept from their presence, now the high elf saw them as her best hope of not only locating her cousin, but finding out just where she was in general.

The hissing, growling voices seemed to move away from her. Even when she picked up her pace, Vereesa could not get any closer.

More worrisome, her path continued to descend far more than she had originally desired. She had no notion as to what lurked in the lowest depths of Grim Batol and, at the moment, had no interest in finding out unless Zendarin proved to be there, also... which she doubted.

For the most part, Vereesa had been relying on both her eyesight and the small gems that lined the walls every now and then to guide her way. That they had been set by some hand was obvious and that had kept her concern from growing too great, for clearly she was still in passages used by the current or former inhabitants.

Indeed, in one small chamber, she had even found the remains of a troll, likely one who had served here at the time of the orcs' occupation. The cool underground had kept the body fairly intact, so much so that she could still see some of the tattoos on his long, lanky body. The pointed face was stretched into a death's-head grin. There were even a small ax and a dagger, both of which were in a usable state and thus claimed quickly by the high elf.

Yet, as she abandoned the corpse to its endless sleep, it bothered Vereesa that she had found no mark that explained why the troll had perished. Other than being amazingly thin, he had looked almost alive.

Had the troll lost his way here and starved to death so near and yet so far from his comrades? That hardly boded well for the ranger.

Still, with the hand ax and the dagger, Vereesa at least felt better prepared for any foe that she did come up against. She also continued trying to mark her way.

Then, the path she was on grew less and less illuminated until she finally turned into a passage utterly devoid of any of the glowing crystals. Frustration growing, Vereesa retreated to the previous tunnel and went on until she found another.

That, too, was unlit.

Twice more, she paced down some length of the lit passage, only to find side tunnels filled with darkness. Now she was certain thateither some entity—Zendarin, perhaps—or even the mount itself was toying with her.

She paused before another black tunnel, debating her choices. Seemingly trapped into entering one or another, the ranger simply stepped into the one she faced—

From within its depths, the ranger heard a faint voice.

What it had said, Vereesa could not tell. It had sounded pained and weary.

Despite the likelihood that it was a trap, the high elf picked up her pace. She listened carefully as she moved, but did not hear the voice repeat. That it might have been a figment of her own tired mind, Vereesa could not deny. However, now that she was committed, she had no intention of turning back. Wielding the ax in one hand and the dagger in the other, the ranger pushed through the darkness.

With each step, she felt herself descend deeper and deeper. Her grip on the weapons tightened. Ahead, she thought she detected a slight illumination....

Sure enough, what started as just a faint haze began to fill the passage the more she headed toward it. Vereesa was finally able to make out details in the walls, details that indicated that this passage had been far more crudely carved out than those above. That in itself bespoke of its ancient construction and the likelihood that most of those above did not know of its existence.

But then... to whom did the voice she believed that she had heard belong?

The high elf slowed. Ahead radiated a low, red glow... as if a chamber lay just a bit further beyond. Her jaw tightening, the ranger very cautiously approached.

She suddenly noticed that the closer she got, the cooler it became. Much cooler than it should have warranted. In fact, in Grim Batol, she would have expected such a chamber to emanate heat, not cold.

Despite how far she had come, Vereesa debated turning around. Yet, something would not let her.

Crouching, the high elf peered inside. Her eyes widened.

She stared into a huge chamber that was both fire and ice. The former was from where the crimson glow originated, vast pools of molten lava constantly bubbling. The smell of sulfur suddenly filled her nostrils. There were more than a dozen such pools that the ranger could see, from those as tiny as her hand to others wide enough to have engulfed her and the dwarves without the surface hardly shifting.

The chamber should have been so boiling hot that sweat should have already covered Vereesa. Yet, it was actually so cool that she could just see her breath.

The explanation for that came from above. There, massive daggers of ice thrust down from the celling. Yet, they were not by any stretch of the imagination of natural origin. As Vereesa moved farther into the chamber, she saw how absolutely white they were inside and even felt the coolness pulsating against her skin.

And then the "why" for this magical arrangement became obvious. The high elf spotted one, then another, then another...and realized that every rounded mound she saw was the exact same thing.

There were eggs everywhere. Eggs so large that they had to come from only one creature. A dragon.

Vereesa approached the nearest. At first she thought that the egg was cracked, for what she could see of it was covered in some sticky coating that reminded her of part of a yolk. However, as she studied it closer, she saw that the egg was not broken. The odd resin simply covered it completely.