Tag Archives: focusing iris
The Wizard of Zhan, Act 3
The curtain rises on the exterior of Karazhan. Garrosh et al approach the front gate.
GARROSH: Okay, so this is the place…
FARANELL: Weren’t we just here not too long ago?
Garrosh knocks on the door. A window on the door slides open, and Berhold the doorman sticks his head out.
BERTHOLD: Who goes there? What business do you have at the master’s Dark Tower?
GARROSH: We’ve come to see the Wizard.
DONTRAG: The guardian Wizard of Zhan!
UTVOCH: We hear he’s sage—
Garrosh smacks Utvoch.
GARROSH: Now don’t you get started with that shit again!
BERTHOLD: The Wizard? You can’t see the Wizard! No one sees the Wizard!
GARONA: Here’s where I grease the wheels… You remember me, don’t you, Berthold?
BERTHOLD: <leans out a bit more, squinting> Hmm, well…oh…oh goodness…lady Garona? Is it really you?
GARONA: It’s good to see you again, Berthold. Could you please go in and tell the Wizard it’s me?
BERTHOLD: Well, um, of course, m’lady. I’ll just be a moment.
Berthold disappears inside and the window closes.
GARONA: <grinning smugly> See? Now we just wait a minute or two, and then they’ll roll out the welcome mat.
GARROSH: How do you know this guy, anyway?
GARONA: I guess you could say we had sort of a thing back in the day.
GARROSH: Suddenly this Wizard’s judgment is seeming a little suspect.
GARONA: What’s that supposed to mean?
Just in front of the door, a heavy portcullis suddenly comes crashing down.
FARANELL: Um, unless welcome mats have been radically redesigned lately…
GARONA: Hang on.
Garona raps on the door angrily. The window opens and Berthold looks out again.
BERTHOLD: Yes?
GARONA: Didn’t you tell him it was me?
BERTHOLD: Yes!
Berthold slams the window shut.
GARONA: Well I…I…
GARROSH: Okay, so I stand corrected on this Wizard guy.
MOKVAR: Well now we have a minor problem about getting in to see him.
GARROSH: Anyone else have any bright ideas?
FARANELL: Garrosh, let me see that Focusing Iris?
GARROSH: You’re not going to try to blow up the gate and get us all killed or something, are you?
FARANELL: Not all of us.
MOKVAR: Reassuring.
FARANELL: But really, let me see it. I think I know how to appeal to him.
GARROSH: <handing the Focusing Iris to Faranell> You think you can get us in, run with it, man.
Faranell knocks on the door; the window opens, and Berthold looks out.
BERTHOLD: Are you all still here?
FARANELL: Yeah, so listen—
BERTHOLD: Good heavens, what happened to you? You look like death warmed over!
FARANELL: Yeah, yeah, I’m undead. So anyway—
BERTHOLD: Undead? That must be a horrible fate.
FARANELL: Yeah, well, take a good long look at the future, smart guy. Are you done interrupting me now? Yeah? Good. So, check this out. I know your boss isn’t in much of a hurry to be reunited with little miss sunshine over here, but I think he’d be very interested in getting a peek at this.
Faranell holds up the Focusing Iris.
You go on back inside and tell him that the bearer of the Focusing Iris is here, and might be persuaded to let him check out the number one item on every magic user’s Winter’s Veil list, okay?
BERTHOLD: Huh…if you say so, sir…
Berthold disappears inside.
MOKVAR: You think he’s going to go for it?
FARANELL: Trust me, I know how to appeal to another mage.
GARROSH: Let’s hope.
Accompanied by the sound of rattling chains, the portcullis rises back up, and the door swings open.
FARANELL: And there we go.
GARROSH: Nice job, Doc. Now we’re in business. Let’s go finish this…
The group walks through the gate.
Blackout. Garrosh and the others enter a large chamber filled with relics, vials, and other magic paraphernalia. Tapestries and ornate curtains decorate those portions of the walls not covered with tall bookshelves.
GARROSH: Huh… Well this looks like the kind of place a wizard would hang out, but where is he?
A booming voice echoes through the room.
VOICE: You have come to seek an audience with the great and powerful Wizard of Zhan?
GARONA: Oh boy, here he goes.
GARROSH: <looking around> Uh, yeah, we do, if he can bother dragging his butt out here so we can actually see him.
VOICE: You dare presume to speak to the great Wizard with such familiarity, mortal? You shall count yourself fortunate that the Wizard does not smite you where you stand!
UTVOCH: Wait, he’s a priest? I thought he was a mage.
MOKVAR: Is he always like this?
GARONA: Oh you have no idea. All the time with the talking about himself in the third person.
In the middle of the room, a towering, semi-transparent avatar of Medivh appears.
MEDIVH: The Wizard of Zhan has been informed that one among you carries the storied Focusing Iris! It is for this reason alone that you have been permitted into this sanctified chamber!
GARONA: Oh, and there he is, finally. And thank you, dear, for that very warm welcome.
MEDIVH: <looks at Garona> Oh. Delightful.
GARONA: Oh, really? You want to know what else is delightful? Being a single mom trying to give her son a good life when the kid’s high-and-mighty richer-than-Aman’thul dad for some reason can’t be bothered to mail off a child support payment!
MEDIVH: The great and powerful Wizard of Zhan does not have time to trifle with these petty—
GARONA: Oh, sure, when it’s something I want to talk about…
GARROSH: So listen, Your Wizardry, we have the Focusing Iris—
MEDIVH: Indeed, hence you are here in my chamber, and not cast out to the ogres! I will be most interested to examine the relic, and—
GARROSH: Yeah, well, here’s the thing, chief – before we let you go poking around with the shiny, we have a few things of our own that we could use a hand with.
MEDIVH: You dare dictate terms to the great and mighty Wizard!
GARONA: Oh man, he’s really in form today…
FARANELL: If you’d rather not be bothered we can just be along our way.
MEDIVH: <chuckles> You mortals have daring, I’ll grant you that much.
Medivh looks around the group, eyeing them carefully.
I will hear your requests.
GARONA: Hold the presses, he just called himself “I.”
MEDIVH: And you would do well to still her tongue.
GARROSH: Been working on that for months, chief. No luck so far.
MEDIVH: At any rate – present your entreaties, but remember the Wizard makes no promises.
GARROSH: We each have something we’re after, Wiz. In my case, I’m trying to find a way to summon Prince Malchezaar down from the Netherspace, so I can put him in the ground before the Burning Legion can pull him out of mothballs to stir up trouble for my people.
MEDIVH: Ah, yes, the irksome demon who’s tucked himself away in the upper levels. You intrigue me, mortal; I must say it would be no small pleasure to have that particular infestation removed from this place…
GARROSH: Okay, so far so good. Meanwhile…well…the rest of the requests are a little more personalized.
DONTRAG: Shall we present our case to the great and metallurgical Wizard, sir, and—
GARROSH: <smacking Dontrag> For spirits’ sake, no.
MOKVAR: Dontrag and Utvoch here would like some brains.
UTVOCH: Indeed, sir!
DONTRAG: <rubbing his head> So as not to have our current ones beaten out quite so often, sir.
GARROSH: And for real, anything you could do on that count, I mean, I can’t possibly overstate how much of a quality of life improvement that could be for everyone involved.
MOKVAR: As for the rest of us… A heart for me.
GARROSH: Because apparently he’s still moping over his ex-wife or something.
GARONA: Could you be any more insensitive?
FARANELL: And some guts for me.
UTVOCH: I still don’t really think you need—
MEDIVH: Enough of your insipid prattling, insects!
GARROSH: Yelling doesn’t do much good with this crowd, Wiz. Don’t think I haven’t tried.
MEDIVH: The great and powerful Wizard of Zhan has heard your requests, and in light of the possibility of studying the Focusing Iris, has deemed them acceptable.
GARROSH: Awesome, Wiz.
FARANELL: See, I told you the Iris was our ticket in.
MOKVAR: So is there a spell or an incantation you have to do on us, or…?
MEDIVH: Silence, mortals! I have not yet finished! I will grant your requests, but first I require you to perform a task on my behalf!
MOKVAR: Uh oh.
DONTRAG: I knew there was going to be a catch…
MOKVAR: We’re going to have to kill something, aren’t we?
GARROSH: So hang on, when you say we have to do a task for you, is this a for real task, or one of those busywork kind of tasks, because you’re talking to an old pro at doling out those…
FARANELL: Personally I think the whole getting-to-work-on-the-Iris thing should be enough of a trade-off on our part, but…
MEDIVH: Bleat at me no longer, fools!
MOKVAR: …Ouch.
FARANELL: That was kind of a good one, actually.
MEDIVH: Before the mighty and magnanimous Wizard grants your request, he demands that you return to him another magic relic of great power: you are to slay the Wicked Witch of the West, and recover from her the Doomstone.
GARROSH: Hang on, the Wicked Witch of the West? That’s Magatha, isn’t it?
GARONA: Yeah.
GARROSH: So we get what we came for, AND I get to kill Magatha?
FARANELL: Didn’t you already kill her in the other timeline?
GARROSH: Trust me, dude, it never gets old.
MEDIVH: You shall venture to the odious lair of the Wicked Witch, where you shall slay her and return with the powerful Doomstone. You must not shy away from this task, for if you fail to carry out this duty—
GARROSH: Dude, it’s cool, done and done.
MEDIVH: Excellent! Be warned, however, the lair of the Wicked Witch of the West shall not be breached easily. It lies in the Mountains of Twilight, in the dread Bastion of the Dying Day. The journey shall be long and arduous, and you will find many trials between here and—
FARANELL: <holding up the Focusing Iris and channeling a spell> Yeah, stoke that noise. Portal to BoT coming up!
Faranell completes the spell and teleports the group away, other than Garona.
MEDIVH: <sighs> Mortals.
Blackout. In an inner chamber of the Bastion of Twilight, Magatha peers into an Eye of Twilight. Beside her hunches Zhi-Zhi, dressed in armor and sporting bat-like wings on his back; around the room similar winged monkey creatures scurry.
MAGATHA: The visions have grown cloudy…they may have reached Karazhan, but no matter – soon enough we’ll find them, and the Focusing Iris will be—
In a flash of light, Garrosh et all appear in the middle of the room. The group appears briefly disoriented as they look around.
FARANELL: Okay, here we are!
MOKVAR: <looking around> Are…are those flying monkeys?
MAGATHA: Well then! All the better! No need to go out hunting for them – the fools have delivered themselves right into my very lair!
ZHI-ZHI: Now! Now we get them, your Witchy-wooken-ness ma’am! Hozen do good and get the dookin’—
MAGATHA: <smacking Zhi-Zhi> Shut up, you insipid preliterate orang utan! Get them!
ZHI-ZHI: Ahhh! Stop hitting Zhi-Zhi!
DONTRAG: I know the feeling, ape guy…
ZHI-ZHI: Get them! Get them!
More monkeys swarm into the room and start running to surround Garrosh’s group, which backs up toward stage right. Magatha runs back and forth in the background, overlooking the scene. Arikara flies in and swoops back and forth above them.
GARROSH: That’s…a whole lot of monkeys.
FARANELL: Plus that wind serpent…
Mortimer leaps into the air and barrels into Arikara with a snarl, knocking them both offstage to the left.
GARROSH: Yeah, I’m not so worried about the wind serpent.
The monkeys descend in bunches, attacking the group.
The chimp brigade, on the other hand…
The Horde group starts to fight off the monkeys; they cut the monkeys down easily enough, but by sheer force of numbers, Magatha’s attackers push Garrosh et al further back.
Magatha descends and begins shooting chain lightning.
MAGATHA: Hahaha! You fools made my work that much easier! Now the Focusing Iris will be mine, and—
Faranell runs up to Magatha and splashes her from a bucket.
AAAHH!! I’m melting! I’m melting! AAAAHHH!!!
Screaming all the way, Magatha melts into a sizzling brown puddle on the floor.
GARROSH: Um, hang on a second. She melted? Fucking WATER killed her?
FARANELL: No. That wasn’t water.
MOKVAR: What was it, then?
FARANELL: Acidic plague.
GARROSH: You walk around with a bucket of acidic plague?
FARANELL: Do you not know what I do for a living?
ZHI-ZHI: The Wicked Witch – she’s dead! You killed her!
MOKVAR: Uh oh. Bracing for pissed-off monkeys.
ZHI-ZHI: She’s dead! She’s dead! Hozen are free! Free of the Witch!
Zhi-Zhi starts jumping up and down jubilantly, with the other monkeys following his lead in short order. Mortimer wanders in and sits, munching on a wind serpent wing.
DONTRAG: I guess this is good?
MOKVAR: As long as they don’t start fliging poop around, I think we’re okay.
ZHI-ZHI: No more beatings from Wicked Witch! We friends now! Friends of the hozen!
Faranell prods Magatha’s remains, rummaging through the remains of her cloak.
MOKVAR: Be careful there, Edwin – are you sure you should be poking around in that stuff?
FARANELL: <continues rummaging> Oh, yes, you’re right, I’d better be careful not to touch any of the plague, or else my flesh might decompose and I might die and OH WAIT.
Faranell pulls a polished gray stone from Magatha’s cloak and tosses it to Garrosh.
Here we go. Mission accomplished.
ZHI-ZHI: Yes! You take Doomstone – reward for killing Wicked Witch! And hozen will follow you now!
GARROSH: Don’t I know you from somewhere?
ZHI-ZHI: <scratching his head> Ever been to Tian Monastery?
GARROSH: Never heard of it.
MOKVAR: Well, other than that one time.
ZHI-ZHI: <still scratching his head> Dunno then…
GARROSH: <shrugs> Whatever.
FARANELL: Portal back to the Wizard?
GARROSH: Yeah, let’s get a move on.
ZHI-ZHI: Hozen come too! Follow new leader! Leader who free hozen!
GARROSH: Uh, yeah, dude, listen, I’ve already got my quota filled on preliterate knuckle-dragging lackeys, okay?
DONTRAG: Sorry, sir.
FARANELL: Okay, gentlemen, here we go…
Faranell casts a portal spell and teleports the group away. Zhi-Zhi remains with the other winged monkeys; he looks around dejectedly, then sneers at the spot where Garrosh had been standing.
ZHI-ZHI: Still not the one!
Blackout. In the Wizard of Zhan’s chamber, Garrosh et al port in, joining Medivh, Garona, and Liadrin.
MEDIVH: Ah, you’ve returned! The mighty but restless Wizard of Zhan is both pleased and not inconsiderably relieved at your timely return!
MOKVAR: You were worried about us?
MEDIVH: Not especially. But since your departure, your…colleague has scarcely shut up.
GARONA: Well sue me for thinking you might want to catch up a little. It’s not like we have a kid together or anything.
GARROSH: <looking to Liadrin> And hang on, what are YOU doing here?
LIADRIN: You think I would miss this floor show?
GARROSH: Well you know, if you were going to come here anyway, you could have maybe stayed with us and used some of your magic to help move things along.
LIADRIN: And then what would you have learned?
GARROSH: I didn’t learn a damn thing as it is, other than “Watch where you step around monkeys” and “Don’t get too close if you see a walking corpse with a bucket”!
FARANELL: You know I’m standing right here.
LIADRIN: Two valuable life lessons.
GARROSH: …I seriously need some new friends.
MEDIVH: At any rate.
GARROSH: Yeah, PLEASE get us back to business.
MEDIVH: You have brought the Doomstone, as I instructed?
GARROSH: <holds up the Doomstone> Got it right here.
MEDIVH: Excellent. Now you shall hand over the relic, and—
GARROSH: Not so fast, translucent boy. First you give us what we came here for, THEN we’ll give you the doohicky.
MEDIVH: You dare try to dictate terms to the great and powerful Wizard of Zhan, mortal? I should liquidate you for your presumption alone!
Mortimer, who has been sniffing around the various tapestries that cover parts of the walls, tugs back one curtain to reveal a control panel covered with elaborate levers, buttons, and monitors, manned by a Forsaken male dressed in warrior’s plate.
GARROSH: Uh, who’s that?
The Forsaken man speaks into a microphone on the control panel, and his words are echoed by Medivh.
AVERRY and MEDIVH: Pay no attention to that man behind the curtain!
FARANELL: Well that’s…odd.
GARROSH: The hell?
GARONA: I don’t even want to think about the implications of this for me.
AVERRY and MEDIVH: Silence, you foolish mortals! Pay him no mind!
GARROSH: Dude, we can see you’re the one doing the talking.
UTVOCH: I’m confused.
FARANELL: Imagine our astonishment.
Averry looks back at the others and hurriedly pulls the curtain closed again.
GARROSH: Now then, insects, you will disregard the man behind the— Oh. Oops. Wrong button.
MEDIVH: That’s better. Now then, insects, you will disregard the man behind the curtain, and put him out of mind!
ALL: What man behind the curtain whom we certainly don’t remember seeing?
MEDIVH: Much better.
GARROSH: Look, can we just get what we came here for so we can get this whole freak show over with?
LIADRIN: It probably would be just as easy to do it this way, Guardian.
MEDIVH: <sighs> Very well. Have your companions step forward…
Mokvar, Faranell, Dontrag, and Utvoch step closer to Medivh. Medivh looks to Faranell.
First you, my fellow – albeit preposterously less mighty – mage.
FARANELL: Can’t anyone be one of the best at their class without being an elitist jerk about it?
MEDIVH: You came, as I recall, seeking guts – and yet I daresay you suffer from disorganized thinking. To flee from danger is, in many cases, not cowardice, but wisdom. Indeed, in my day I have known many a soul called a hero, who carried out great deeds of valiance, and they had no more courage than—
FARANELL: No, no, you’re taking this too metaphorically.
MEDIVH: Pardon?
FARANELL: I don’t need guts because I think I’m a coward. Look at me. Half my internal organs are missing. I have no guts, literally.
MEDIVH: Huh. You know, you’re shedding new light on some complaints I’ve been getting from Moroes…
FARANELL: How about I put you down for an “I’ll get back to you” and keep the line moving.
Medivh shrugs and turns to Mokvar.
MEDIVH: As for you, my good orc… Your trouble is another misperception of your situation – not the lack of heart, but a damaged one. To that end, I give you this remedy, for your ears and your ears alone:
Medivh leans closer to Mokvar.
<aside> She is still out there, alive, and she is looking for you.
Mokvar makes a surprised expression, then nods and steps away. Medivh turns to Dontrag and Utvoch.
Now then…you two.
DONTRAG: Yes, sir, your high and mighty Wizardariousness, sir.
UTVOCH: Very much honored to bask in your presence and await your magnaminious blessings, sir.
MEDIVH: Hmm… Yeah. Right. Sorry. You can’t fix stupid.
DONTRAG: Oh.
UTVOCH: Um…okay…
GARROSH: <sighs> Gotta say, we’re not getting a whole lot of return on our investment so far.
MEDIVH: Now for your request, other-orc. You say you seek the demon Malchezaar, and the means to draw him out of his hiding place…
GARROSH: Right. Please don’t tell me this is another one of those “Oops, I can’t really do that one” things for you.
MEDIVH: The great and powerful Wizard of Zhan can do anything, mortal!
FARANELL: Other than listen to himself for like the last three minutes.
MEDIVH: But, as it happens, in this case the Wizard does not need to!
GARROSH: <sighs> Don’t tell me you’re going to get all cryptic on me now.
LIADRIN: What I think the Wizard means, Garrosh, is that you have the means now to do it yourself.
GARROSH: The what now?
Liadrin points to the Doomstone in Garrosh’s hands.
Huh… This thing can do it? How?
LIADRIN: You need only charge it with the Focusing Iris, and you’ll see.
GARROSH: Huh. Well, you heard her, Edwin. Let’s see what this thing does.
Faranell takes out the Focusing Iris and starts to channel arcane power through it and into the Doomstone. The Doomstone starts to glow, then expand, growing into a heavy gray slab of rock with a single runic symbol etched into it.
LIADRIN: Now all you need to is touch your hand to it and say “Come click on the stone.”
Garrosh gives a quizzical look, then shrugs and puts his hand on the stone.
GARROSH: Come click on the stone.
LIADRIN: That’s it…go on…
GARROSH: Come click on the stone… Come click on the stone… Come click on the stone…
As he repeats the phrase, Faranall and Mokvar approach and touch the stone as well. The stage lights dim as Medivh’s chamber fades away, and the only things left visible are Garrosh and the stone. A bright light flashes around the stone, and Prince Malchezaar appears.
MALCHEZAAR: <looks around bewildered> What? How—?
GARROSH: Well hey, now we’re in business.
MALCHEZAAR: You! You dare?
GARROSH: Yeah, so, we haven’t really properly met or anything, princy, so let me fill you in – I dare. Like, professionally.
MALCHEZAAR: Madness has brought you here, orc! Now I shall be your undoing!
GARROSH: Seriously, do you bad guys all take a class on these stock threats? Because—
Garrosh reaches to his back to draw Gorehowl, only to find it’s disappeared from its usual place.
Wha— Oh for fuck’s sake, seriously? Again, now?
Laughing menacingly, Malchezaar draws Gorehowl and brandishes it.
MALCHEZAAR: Ha! Have you misplaced this, fool? I remember fondly the day I recovered it from Demon’s Fall!
GARROSH: Ugh, fine, we’ll do this the street-brawl way…
Garrosh rushes at Malchezaar and grapples with him, gripping Gorehowl by its haft when Malchezaar tries to swing it at him.
MALCHEZAAR: Flee now while you can, orc! You do not face Malchezaar alone—
GARROSH: Yeah, yeah, we all know the spiel, squid-face – but you know something? You’re right. I DON’T face Malchezaar alone…
The stage lights come back on, illuminating the normal, minimally dressed stage of the Opera House – with Faranell, Liadrin, Mokvar, Garona, Dontrag, and Utvoch in a semicircle behind Garrosh and Malchezaar.
Say hello to the legion at my command! SHOW TIME FOR REAL, kids!
MOKVAR: Liking our odds a lot better this time…
While Faranell and Mokvar stand back, casting fireballs and lightning bursts respectively, Liadrin, Garona, Dontrag, and Utvoch run in to engage Malchezaar at melee range. Malchezaar staggers back and forth under the onslaught of the group, still grappling with Garrosh over their hold on Gorehowl, until Garrosh twists it out of Malchezaar’s grip, leaps up, and cleaves through the demon’s neck, severing his head. Malchezaar’s body slumps to the floor, and the spectral audience bursts into applause.
GARROSH: Wham, bam, the bitch is dead. Bitch.
As the audience continues their applause, Barnes walks to center stage.
BARNES: A splendid finale for a most varied and entertaining evening of theater! Ladies and gentlemen, I give you tonight’s troupe of performers, here for the first and only time for your enjoyment!
The applause rises; Barnes walks back offstage.
MOKVAR: Well that takes care of that.
DONTRAG: We’re done here now, right?
LIADRIN: That should do it, yes…
FARANELL: <standing over Malchezaar’s body somberly> At least now he can stop coming back to die over and over…
MOKVAR: Oh, yeah…I guess you were in your own kind of time loop, weren’t you, Edwin…
LIADRIN: But…Edwin, it would have been a stable loop with you, wouldn’t it? Just one set of events repeating infinitely?
FARANELL: That’s what I’d figured it was going to be…
GARROSH: Wait, what? What do you mean, a stable loop?
FARANELL: When I stayed in old Southshore, and replaced myself. I’d figured I would live through my life like I remembered it, then get to the point where we traveled to the past, and go back with you again, then the events would be complete. And then it would be done, and the cycle would just keep spinning itself.
LIADRIN: That isn’t what happened for you?
FARANELL: <shaking head slowly> It didn’t just repeat. I would live through to our mission to the past, and replace myself again, and pick up my life in the past…and yeah, the loop would keep repeating, but every cycle through, I had to live it through again, and repeat my part of it again, and…
GARROSH: And…?
LIADRIN: Oh…oh no…
FARANELL: …and die again. And be raised again.
MOKVAR: Holy crap…
UTVOCH: Wait, I’m confused, what’s he—
GARROSH: Just this once, will you please SHUT THE FUCK UP?
FARANELL: And so yeah, every time around, I had to live out that repetition fresh. I can still remember every loop, individually…
LIADRIN: Edwin… I’m not sure if I even really want to know, but…how many times did you…go around?
FARANELL: By the time you…I…reset the timelines and broke me out…? 2,734.
LIADRIN: By the Light… You…relived your own death…?
Faranell nods, still staring at Malchezaar.
MOKVAR: Edwin, listen—
FARANELL: Doesn’t really matter at this point. <turns back to the others> Come on. We’re done here. Portal to Orgrimmar coming up.
Faranell summons a portal, and one by one the rest of the group disappears through it.
There’s no place like home…
Faranell ports out. The curtain closes.
The Wizard of Zhan
The curtain rises on the admiral’s quarters in Northwatch Hold, where Garrosh is sitting in a chair, slumped over a central table. Everything appears black-and-white.
After a moment, Garrosh stirs and looks around the room while rubbing his forehead. Stage lights illuminate the far edges of the stage, alternating sides, showing brief glimpses of Orgrimmar in flames, being overrun by demons. The sounds of screaming and demonic laughter can be heard, seemingly at a distance. The lights at the edges of the stage go out. Garrosh stands, and the background noise stops.
GARROSH: Malchezaar… They were able to do it because of Malchezaar…
{UP IN THE NETHER}
GARROSH:
Somewhere up in the nether
In the dark,
There’s a demon “prince,” self-appointed,
Calls himself Malchezaar.Mortimer wanders in and settles near Garrosh as the song continues.
Somewhere up in the nether
Time did break.
You can kill him while he’s up there
But it just won’t take.Some day I’ve got to drag him down
Out of that place and go to town
And stop it.
The Legion hid him in the cracks.
Sometimes he’s got my father’s axe;
I hope he drops it.Somewhere up in the nether
Demons hide.
Prince lurks up in the nether –
It’s long since time he died.If demons get to be revived
Without a timer,
Why oh why can’t I?Garrosh walks to a window and looks out. A stage light illuminates the edge of the stage again, this time revealing the burning ruins of Camp Taurajo.
Garrosh steps back into the room and, slowly at first but with increasing speed and urgency, begins running around the room, knocking over and smashing furniture. Dizzying music fades in as Garrosh continues; he runs around in circles, destroying everything he can reach. The stage lights dim until the room itself fades from view and the only thing visible is Garrosh – running in circles, lashing at his invisible surroundings, moving with increasing speed until he starts to blur into a whirlwind of anger.
The lights slowly come up to show that the Northwatch Hold tower has been replaced by the deck of a goblin sky galleon. The ship is spinning in air, such that the rotation of the ship gradually comes to replace Garrosh’s running; he now stands on the deck as the galleon spins around, tossed in circles by a literal whirlwind.
The lights fade to black while the dizzying music continues – growing louder – then a loud crash is heard. The stage lights come up again, showing the sky galleon wrecked on the ground amid the ruins of Theramore. For the first time, the scene is visible in full color. Garrosh is sprawled out on the ground near the wreckage, unconscious. Mortimer flies in and approaches. He prods Garrosh carefully with one paw; Garrosh stirs and starts to get up.
GARROSH: <rubbing his head with one hand while patting Mortimer with the other> Yeah, yeah, I’m okay, buddy…
Garrosh turns to the wreckage of the galleon and notices a woman’s legs sticking out from under it.
Huh. She’s not okay, though, whoever she is. Was.
Garrosh looks around the ruins, then back to the galleon. As he turns away, several goblins begin to emerge slowly from behind pieces of the ruins.
Hmm… Mortimer, I don’t think we’re in Northgate anymore… Looks like Theramore…so…so that would make HER—
SPAZZLE: <running to the wreckage> The Witch! She’s dead! The Wicked Witch is dead!
More goblins appear and gather closer around the wreckage.
GARROSH: Hang on, the witch? You mean like a mage?
SPAZZLE: Well, it’s kind of a blanket term.
GARROSH: But is THIS one a mage?
KHIZZARA: Not anymore!
GARROSH: Yeah, fine, I get it, she’s dead. What I’m trying to find out is if she’s—
GIZZIX GRIMEGURGLE: She’s dead!
DYSLIX SILVERGRUB: Dead!
KRIXIL SLOGSWITCH: The Witch is dead!
KHIZZARA: Woot!
GARROSH: Fine, fuck it, I’ll check it out myself.
Garrosh takes hold of the edge of the wreckage and, grunting, lifts it a few feet.
UGH! GROSS!
Garrosh releases the galleon and it crashes back onto the body. One hand is left flopping limply out from under the wreckage; a glowing blue orb falls out of its palm and rolls across the ground.
Definitely Jaina, though. Gotta say, not exactly a glorious way to go out. <chuckles> Oh well. Live on your back, die on your back, right?
The blue sphere rolls further. In a puff of smoke, Liadrin appears in the sphere’s path. She is wearing the paladin Lightsworn robes and has the wings of Avenging Wrath permanently glowing on her back. She leans down and picks up the orb.
LIADRIN: Are you the one who’s slain the Wicked Witch of the East and freed the Mudsprockets?
GARROSH: What, Jaina? Yeah, that was me, I guess.
GOBLINS: Hooray!
GARROSH: So hang on, who are all you people?
LIADRIN: I am the Good Witch of the North. And the Mudsprockets live here in the marsh.
RAZBO RUSTGEAR: Under the tyrannical reign of the Wicked Witch of the East!
KHIZZARA: Not anymore!
GOBLINS: Hooray!
GARROSH: Jaina had a tyrannical reign?
SPAZZLE: Well, more like some pretty strict local ordinances on fireworks and explosives.
KHIZZARA: Not anymore!
GIZZIX GRIMEGURGLE: Splodey-ville, here we come!
GOBLINS: Hooray!
GARROSH: Okay, whatever. You’re happy she’s dead, I’m happy she’s dead, it’s all cool. One less thorn in my side, gotta tell you.
{WHAM, BAM, THE BITCH IS DEAD}
GARROSH:
Wham! Bam! The bitch is dead!
GOBLINS:
Which? Which bitch?
GARROSH:
The Proudmoore bitch!
Wham! Bam! The Proudmoore bitch is dead!
I landed on her head,
She wished she woulda stood in bed.
Flat splat, the Proudmoore bitch is dead!GOBLINS:
She won’t stop the goblins now –
Kapow! Kapow! Kapow!
So now, let’s open up and blast,
At last! Let’s rock some rockets!
Wham bam, she got put down,
A new sheriff is in town!
Don’t you frown, the Wicked Witch is dead!Drazzit Dripvalve approaches wearing a top hat and comically flamboyant ceremonial attire.
DRAZZIT DRIPVALVE:
As Mayor of dear Mudsprocket,
In the shadow of the Witch’s lair,
I welcome you effusively!GIZZIX GRIMEGURGLE:
But it must be proved conclusively,
To know…DRAZZIT DRIPVALVE:
To know?
GIZZIX GRIMGURGLE:
That blow…
DRAZZIT DRIPVALVE:
That blow?
GIZZIX GRIMGURGLE:
Has utterly, totally,
KRIXIL SLOGSWITCH:
Not just anecdotally!
RAZBO RUSTGEAR:
Determinately, permanently,
GOBLINS:
Undiminishedly gone and finished her off.
SPAZZLE:
I went ahead and checked her out,
And I can say without a doubt
That she’s not just flatter than most:
She’s totally and truly toast.DRAZZIT DRIPVALVE:
Then today we’ll fire our rockets!
Celebrating free Mudsprockets!
Now spread the word! Let none neglect!
The Wicked Witch just got shipwrecked!GOBLINS:
Wham! Bam! The Witch is dead!
Which? Which Witch? The Wicked Witch!
Wham! Bam! The Wicked Witch is dead!
He landed on her head,
She wished she woulda stood in bed.GARROSH:
Flat splat, the Proudmoore bitch is dead!
GOBLINS:
She won’t stop the goblins now –
Kapow! Kapow! Kapow!
So now, let’s open up and blast,
At last! Let’s rock some rockets!
Wham bam, she got put down,
A new sheriff is in town!
Don’t you frown, the Wicked Witch is dead!From above, Magatha Grimtotem swoops in, riding her wind serpent Arikara. Cackling maniacally, she casts chain lightning down at the Mudsprockets, who scatter and try to take cover.
GARROSH: What the fuck is SHE doing here?
LIADRIN: It’s the Wicked Witch of the West!
GARROSH: How many fucking Wicked Witches do you people HAVE around here?
LIADRIN: Two—
KHIZZARA: Not anymore!
LIADRIN: Well, yes, one now. But this one is even worse than the Wicked Witch of the East ever was.
GARROSH: Preaching to the choir, lady.
Magatha unleashes another burst of chain lightning; Garrosh and Liadrin dive out of the way. Mortimer launches into the air, snarling, and swipes at Arikara.
GARROSH: Yeah! Go get ’em, Mortimer!
Mortimer’s strike knocks Magatha off of Arikara and sends her crashing to the ground. Shrieking, Arikara flies out of view. Magatha gets up and looks at Jaina’s legs poking out from under the wreckage. Mortimer returns to the ground, landing next to Garrosh.
MAGATHA: So it’s true! She’s dead! <looking around hurriedly> Where is it, then? It must be here!
LIADRIN: <holding up the blue sphere> Are you looking for this?
MAGATHA: The Focusing Iris! Yes! Once I combine its power with that of the Doomstone—
LIADRIN: You’ll do nothing of the kind, crone!
MAGATHA: You think I fear you, elf? I’ll take it from you if I have to!
Magatha starts to cast another chain lightning, but is interrupted when Garona – sporting the Fangs of the Father wings – unstealths and stunlocks her.
GARONA: Not so much, Steak Sauce!
GARROSH: So, who’s this supposed to be now?
LIADRIN: She’s the Morally Ambiguous Witch of the South-by-Southeast.
GARONA: Hey.
GARROSH: You people have some really weird fucking job titles, gotta say.
LIADRIN: You slayed the Wicked Witch of the East, so it’s only right that the Focusing Iris should go to you as its caretaker…
Liadrin hands the Iris to Garrosh.
What’s important is that it stays out of the hands of the crone at all cost.
GARROSH: Yeah, don’t worry, I am all about making her life unpleasant…
Arikara swoops by again, startling Garrosh and Liadrin into taking a few steps back; Magatha breaks out of her stun, jumps back, and puts down an earthbind totem that holds the others in place.
MAGATHA: I may need to bide my time for now, but the Iris will be mine yet! And as for you, orc – I’ll get you, my cranky, and your little wyvern, too!
Magatha leaps onto Arikara’s back and takes off.
LIADRIN: She’ll be back. I hope you can handle powerful enemies.
GARROSH: I’ve dealt with worse. Matter of fact, I was working on one just before I wound up here.
LIADRIN: What enemy was that?
GARROSH: A demon called Malchezaar – taking him out wouldn’t even be that big of a deal, but I kind of have to get him out of his lair in order to defeat him.
LIADRIN: Something you would need powerful magic to do?
GARROSH: Probably. Magic not really being my strong suit.
LIADRIN: I may know whose it is. You want to talk to the Wizard of Zhan.
GARROSH: The who now?
LIADRIN: The Wizard of Zhan! He’s a wise, mysterious mage who lives in the Dark Tower far away.
GARROSH: So this guy is pretty powerful?
LIADRIN: Extremely – they say there’s no end to what he can do.
GARONA: Let’s not get carried away now.
GARROSH: You know him?
GARONA: We’ve met.
GARROSH: So how do I get to him?
LIADRIN: The tower of Zhan is far to the east of Dustwallow, in the Pass of Dying Winds. Luckily for you, the eastward Gold Road will take you straight there.
Liadrin points to the yellow brick road beneath their feet.
GARROSH: Well that’s convenient.
GARONA: I can go with you, since I know the Wizard.
LIADRIN: You should get started – it’s a long trip, especially since you’ll be walking.
GARROSH: Screw walking, I’ve got my wyvern right here. I can just hop on and fly along the road.
GARONA: Great! I can get on behind you and hold onto you.
GARROSH: Okay, so walking it is. Grats on the dodged bullet, Mortimer.
GARONA: Fine.
LIADRIN: We’ll see you off! Good luck on your journey!
GARROSH: Hey, actually…you said this road leads right to Zhan?
LIADRIN: Yes, it does.
GARROSH: Even though there’s an ocean between here and there? Because we’re kind of on a different continent.
LIADRIN: Yes, but fortunately the road runs across the Willing Suspension Bridge of Disbelief.
GARROSH: Huh. Okay then. Off we go.
Garrosh, Garona, and Mortimer start to follow the road while the Mudsprockets gather behind them.
{OFF TO SEE THE WIZARD}
GOBLINS:
You’re off to see the Wizard,
The guardian Wizard of Zhan.
We hear he’s sage: the mightiest mage
Who ever met mortal man.
If you seek some sorcery for your plan,
The Wizard’s your man, because he can –
He can, he can, he can, he can, he can.
He’ll have it all done before it began!
You’re off to see the Wizard,
The guardian Wizard of Zhan!The curtains close.
{TO BE CONTINUED IN ACT 2…}
The fall of Theramore
Victory from the jaws of defeat.
Or, no, that’s not quite accurate. Defeat was never really in the picture. This was more victory from under the guide of defeat.
That much sweeter, in a way. Let the humans think they’d won, right up to the moment that their doom became inescapable. The moment they realized it was upon them, and had nothing left to do but stand there helplessly and watch it come.
Today was a good day.
After we left Northwatch Hold, we marched south and made short work of Fort Triumph. I couldn’t help chuckling at the irony of the name while we annihilated what passed for its defenses. I think our soldiers were so eager for battle after the long wait at Northwatch that they threw themselves with ever great ferocity into the fight once it finally came.
The long wait at Northwatch. To them – what? – six days?
They’ll never know how long their Warchief had been waiting for this moment.
We continued on our way into Dustwallow Marsh and divided our forces at the fork in the road. Half of our troops traveled north with me, while half went east with Malkorok. We would meet at Theramore and strike both its gates at the same time. As my half of the army made its way north, we added reinforcements from Brackenwall Village – Krog and Draz’Zilb among them – then continued on our way toward Theramore.
My contingent was the first to reach the city. Jaina had recruited aid from the Kirin Tor to help strengthen the city’s defenses against our battering rams and siege engines. It was a wise decision on her part. Pity I’d been counting on it. Me and…what’s his name, the blood elf guy. I can never remember. I should probably work on that, seeing as he really stepped up to the plate with more than one part of this plan.
See, Jaina had called in mages from the Kirin Tor to help hold the Theramore gates against our attack. A powerful mage could reinforce a gate for a good long time against our siege. As it happened, though, one of those crucial, city-saving mages was a guy by the name of Thalen Songweaver.
A blood elf.
See if you can guess who writes his checks.
Down came the gates, and in came the Horde.
Malkorok’s forces joined ours in the midst of it all, and Captain Drok and the rest of the Horde fleet hit the harbor. Our troops flooded into Theramore, laying waste to its defenders. Jaina and her wizard friends did a decent job of chipping away at our numbers from above, but on the ground, none of the Theramore soldiers could hold their own against our assault.
Everything was going perfectly until Jaina’s new blue dragon friend turned up and started dropping boulders and trees over the broken gate. Kalecgos… I remember meeting him, once, just after Deathwing’s defeat. Apparently mortality’s left him pretty damn bored these days, because now he had nothing better to do than meddle in battles that were none of his concern. Problem was – as Baine and Vol’jin were only too quick to point out – at the rate the big lizard was going, he would shore up the opening right quick, and seal us all inside. At that point, closed in without any further reinforcements from outside, it would just be a matter of time before the mages picked us off.
So, I ordered our forces to fall back. We cleared out of the city and retreated to the north and west. We all regrouped just west of the bridge over Dustwallow Bay, overlooking Theramore. Baine was less than thrilled about how things had gone. Can’t really blame him, though, considering he wasn’t seeing the big picture. The foolish tauren thought the siege was all there was to this attack. For all he could see, this was a loss.
But see, here’s the thing. When you fight me, there’s never just one piece to the plan I throw at you. Sure, it would have been nice if the siege had gone perfectly. But that’s the beauty of it all. It didn’t have to.
Welcome to fighting Garrosh Hellscream, Theramore. Evern when I lose, I win.
Sure, you fought off the attack on your gates… And kept yourselves busy while Drok slipped into the harbor and dropped off a small, elite strike team, who crippled your aerial defenses and recovered our agent Thalen Songweaver.
And sure, you managed to secure that north gate again… And sealed yourselves in, within the city walls. With some of the Alliance’s greatest generals, who’d come to aid in the defense. Closed in together. Nice and compact. All in one place.
Boy, it sure would suck for you if I had, say, a giant bomb I could drop on you right now.
Oh, wait. I do.
Goblin sky galleon. Blood elf mana bomb. And the immeasurable power of a handy little relic called the Focusing Iris.
Goodbye, Theramore.
The troops cheered around me as I pointed to our victory and the sky glowed white and purple with the aftershocks of the mana explosion. Louder and louder, raucous voices all around me. Some stared in shock, confusion, maybe even…misguided disapproval. No matter. Give them time. They’ll come around. Eventually, victory wins everyone over. And we won.
I turned and looked over the bay, holding Gorehowl over my head, taking in the sight of our triumph, of the mark we had left on this world, never to be forgotten.
Deep down, in some tiny, hollow corner, I knew it still wasn’t quite enough.
But it would do. For a start.
Wrath of the Lich King
Show time.
The group assembled today on the Windrunner: me, both Saurfangs, Liadrin, Edwin, Jaina, Mokvar, Dontrag, and Utvoch. I figured the way the Scourge have swarmed through practically all of Northrend, I’d just as soon not leave anything to chance, which is why we brought so much heavy-artillery personnel. Drok and his crew had the ship ready to go, and we set off for the Nexus in Coldarra. Once we had the Focusing Iris, we’d head straight for Dalaran, where Jaina’s Kirin Tor friends would be ready to port us straight to the Caverns of Time.
We arrived at the Nexus and docked the ship on one of the upper ring platforms that was equipped with a teleportation orb. One problem: the platform was swarming with Scourge – all the platforms were. Vargul and skeletons mostly, with a couple necromancer types lurking around the back.
I’ll tell you, Mokvar was right the other day. This really wasn’t fair.
Between me whirlwinding through skeletons by the bushel, Liadrin Diving Storming her way right through the heart of them, Jaina flame-roasting undead in bunches, and – yup – Saurfangs Young and Old cleaving down everything in sight, it didn’t take us long to clear a path to the teleportation orb. The only down side was that those necromancers kept summoning more undead, and every so often a proto-drake would fly by and drop another damn vrykul to help keep the influx coming.
GARROSH: They’re not getting anywhere, but neither are we if we just stay up here all day killing these fuckers…
The necromancers cast another summoning spell, and some hundred new skeletons appear on the platform.
LIADRIN: <slashing by one of the vargul> We don’t all need to be up here – you go, I’ll stay and protect the ship.
GARROSH: You sure? There’s still an awful lot of them.
Liadrin rushes into a cluster of vargul, dropping them all with another spinning Divine Storm. As she finishes her follow-through, she lands on one knee, slamming the Ashbringer down onto the platform floor; a shimmering flash of yellow-white light bursts from the Ashbringer and shoots out in a horizontal shockwave in all directions. The light rips through the skeletons and sends them spilling onto the floor, burning with holy fire. Still on one knee, Liadrin tilts her head up at Garrosh.
LIADRIN: I’m not worried.
Jaina runs to a clear area near the gunship and starts channeling a spell. A glowing blue runic circle begins to appear on the floor beneath her.
JAINA: ’m placing a portal marker here. Once we have the Focusing Iris, I’ll be able to teleport us directly back.
Several more vargul drop onto the platform. While Liadrin engages them, several val’kyr and gargoyles descend down over the Windrunner.
SAURFANG: <rushing back to the gunship and cleaving through gargoyles> I’ll stay back as well to help guard the ship.
MOKVAR: Well now you’re just running up the score on them.
SAURFANG: The rest of you – go!
DRANOSH: You all heard the man. Let’s get moving.
We took the teleportation orb into the Nexus. The sight that greeted us froze us all in our tracks. Around the circular room and down every hall, the ground was littered with the lifeless bodies of blue dragons. We all just stared for a minute while the sight sunk in. I think it hit Jaina the hardest, what with her probably having had some dealings with the blues over the years. She knelt down over one of the dead dragons and put a hand over its face.
JAINA: This… I know her. This is… Her name is…was Kirygosa. She was a daughter of Malygos…
UTVOCH: Wait, when you said there were going to be a lot of dragons here, I thought you meant they were going to be alive.
GARROSH: …Seriously?
FARANELL: That’s got to be an act, right? I mean he can’t possibly really be that stupid.
MOKVAR: Dontrag and Utvoch: raising the bar on lowering the bar, since the dawn of time.
DONTRAG: Hey, I didn’t say anything!
GARROSH: Yet.
DRANOSH: <surveying the halls> Most of the… <glances back at Jaina, then lowers his voice slightly> …most of the blood seems fresh. Whoever did this did it fairly recently.
GARROSH: Probably still nearby.
Jaina stands slowly, still looking down at the bodies.
JAINA: Kalecgos considered her one of his dearest friends…
DRANOSH: The next time you see him, you can tell him all about the world of pain we brought down on the ones who did this to her.
GARROSH: It has to be the Scourge, based on upstairs. Not sure why they’d be coming after the blue dragons, though.
JAINA: At this point, they’re one of the only major powers left between them and all of Northrend… It was only a matter of time before they struck here.
GARROSH: That’s the thing, though – yeah, they have the Horde and Alliance on the ropes, but why wouldn’t they finish them off first, THEN take on the dragons? The Lich King has to know he’s got the upper hand. Why divide his efforts?
DRANOSH: Maybe he wants to finish both off quickly?
GARROSH: All the time we were up here fighting him, did you ever know Arthas to be impatient?
JAINA: He’s not. Anymore.
DRANOSH: <shrugs> Either way. I am the impatient type – let’s go find that Focusing Iris and let it be finished.
We made our way deeper into the Nexus, finding more slain dragons all the way. As we worked our way down a long, descending passageway, we could hear sounds of combat, and reptilian cries of pain. I ordered Dontrag and Utvoch to make sure they kept Edwin safe under pain of so-much-worse-than-death-your-admittedly-limited-brains-would-melt-just-trying-to-imagine-it. The bottom of the passage was dark and filled with shadows. As the floor leveled out from the end of our descent, we turned a corner and came to a doorway.
The room was large and circular, with crystalline patterns in the walls and floor, like so many of the other rooms here. In the center of the room, hovering in the air of its own accord, was the Focusing Iris – an enormous blue orb, glowing with arcane power. On the far side of the room, four humanoids – a human, a tauren, and a pair of dwarves – all wearing armor like that of a death knight, stood over bodies of blue dragons. More bodies filled the room, and the air reeked with the smell of draconic blood. Two more death knights, a draenei and a troll, flanked the doorway on either side, and as we came around the corner they called out a warning.
And as the sentries cried out, in the center of the room, out from behind the Focusing Iris stepped Tirion Fordring. Covered in spiked black armor, wielding a runeblade, eyes glowing a deathly pale blue. I’ll tell you, I was never crazy about Tirion, but this was still horrible to see. Even Tirion deserved better than this.
TIRION: <grinning broadly> Ah, how serendipitous! It appears fate has set us all upon a parallel venture, and I find myself reunited with personages of no small familiarity. I greet you all, good orcs and humans, and welcome you to the curtain’s rise on the final act of this grand endeavor!
GARROSH: By the spirits…
Tirion gestures to his minions.
DRANOSH: What?
Tirion’s Deathbringers rush at the group, blades poised.
GARROSH: He still loves to talk.
Jaina casts a Cone of Cold that slows the death knights’ approach.
DRANOSH: <shrugs> Time to do what we do. Lok’tar!
GARROSH: For the Horde!
DONTRAG and UTVOCH: For the Horde!
MOKVAR: For the Horde!
JAINA: Um, actually…
Jaina exchanges a shrug with Faranell.
Okay. Whatever.
Garrosh, Dranosh, Dontrag, and Utvoch rush forward to engage the Deathbringers, and the two groups battle back and forth, with Tirion lurking by the Focusing Iris, watching and taunting.
TIRION: Good, my glorious vassals, unleash your fury and show these intruders the fate that awaits those who would interfere with the work of our dread lord the Lich King! Woe be to any who stand against us! Their ruined bodies shall be the latest paving the way to our inevitable dominion over this world!
GARROSH: <exchanging blows with the tauren> The hell are you even HERE for, Tirion? What do you fuckers even want with the Focusing Iris?
TIRION: Well could I ask you the same, young Hellscream! But as it will profit you naught, I will tell you, so that you might meet your end knowing the full scope of your failure, and indeed the hand you and your ilk have had in bringing forth this very hour!
DRANOSH: <aside> That’s it, get him monologuing…
GARROSH: <aside> He’s going to be monologuing anyway, might as well get him going on something useful maybe…
Dranosh and Garrosh continue pushing back the tauren and human. Dontrag and Utvoch spar with the two dwarves, aided by chain lightning from Mokvar, while Jaina launches a seething fireball that incinerates the troll.
TIRION: Did you truly believe your ill-fated ploy to deny the Lich King your precious Sunwell would go unanswered? That the master of the Scourge would be halted by your sad, trifling magician’s tricks? You merely delayed the inevitable; and now, with the Focusing Iris in hand, the Lich King’s mightiest seers will shatter the meddlesome bubble conjured by that poor, doomed, suddenly so very solitary dragon Kalecgos—
Jaina lets loose another pair of fireballs, finishing the dwarven death knights fighting Dontrag and Utvoch.
JAINA: Kalcgos’ flight had no part in this war, Tirion! The old you – the real you – he would be sickened to see what you’ve done to these innocents!
TIRION: Oh, Lady Proudmoore, do not be so naïve as to think the blues innocent – or yourself. It was Kalecgos who chose to throw in his lot with your kind and aid in your foolish charade at the Sunwell, and all of you who interfered in the Scourge’s march. The Lich King was content to leave these pitiable lizards be – for now. It was you who forced his hand, you who altered his plans, you who made the Focusing Iris a necessary implement—
DRANOSH: Spirits, he likes to talk…
GARROSH: Dude, you have NO IDEA.
TIRION: —and you, all of you, who helped bring this fate upon the Blue Dragonflight today! From their blood shall flow the coming of a new age for this world! From their deaths shall be forged a new future, bathed in carnage!
JAINA: <gathering a fiery glow in her hands> You want carnage? Arthas will have more blood than he ever bargained for!
Jaina unleashes a massive fireball that tears through the draenei death knight and badly burns the tauren and human – whom Dranosh and Garrosh quickly finish off – and hurls Tirion back against the far wall.
DRANOSH: Remind me not to piss her off.
GARROSH: No shit, right?
Tirion pulls himself up and faces the group.
TIRION: You all shall pay dearly for—
DRANOSH: <charging in and knocking Tirion a few steps back> Pro tip, Tirion – when your boys are taking it on the chin, might be a good idea to stop running your mouth for a minute and help them out.
Garrosh joins in, and Tirion begins scrambling to deflect both orcs’ blows.
TIRION: You think I fear you, boy? Through the Lich King I have seen power the likes of which you cannot comprehend! By his will I have cast off death itself, and risen anew, ascended, greater than I might ever have dreamed in my former, paltry, limited existence! You do not know what you trifle with, you—
As Dranosh and Garrosh unleash a flurry of blows from both sides, Jaina singes Tirion with a surge of flame, then freezes him in place with a frost nova, throwing off his footing.
GARROSH: Tirion…
Garrosh locks one of his axes in a parry with Tirion, then drops his second axe from his free hand and swings his fist under the runeblade and into Tirion’s gut.
Shut.
Garrosh breaks the parry, forcing Tirion’s blade hand to swing to one side, where Dranosh hacks it away at the wrist.
The fuck.
Garrosh and Dranosh bring their axes down from either side, slamming viciously into the base of Tirion’s neck.
UP!
Tirion slumps lifeless to the floor.
JAINA: <looking down sadly at the body> You have been missed, old friend. May your spirit finally find its rest now.
MOKVAR: Okay, let’s get what we came for and go.
JAINA: Let me get it into a more manageable form…
Jaina holds her hands out to the Focusing Iris and begins channeling beams of arcane magic into it. Slowly, the Focusing Iris shrinks until it has been reduced to a shimmering blue sphere about a foot in diameter, hovering in the air.
There…now we just need to—
Jaina is interrupted by a shadowy, purple tendril of magic that lashes out at her from the doorway and yanks her back toward it. Her body flies backward through the air and – with a hideous slicing sound – into a blade held out from the dark hallway:
Frostmourne.
As Dranosh steps in to catch the falling Focusing Iris, the Lich King strides into the room, Jaina’s body still impaled on the runebalde.
LICH KING: Impressive…
The Lich King shakes Frostmourne, dropping Jaina’s body to the ground.
Most impressive.
UTVOCH: Okay, this isn’t so bad, there’s just one of him against all of us…
The Lich King drives Frostmourne’s blade into the floor, releasing a shockwave that knocks the group back against the far wall of the room. As they recover, the Lich King hold Frostmourne aloft and begins channeling a spell.
LICH KING: Now then…a further test…
Crackling purple energy shoots out of Frostmourne in all directions. Slowly, the dozens of dragon corpses around the room begin to rise, eyes glowing a dull blue, bodies withered and gaunt.
GARROSH: Oh…shit…
DONTRAG: You really have to keep your mouth shut, Ut.
The nearest few reanimated dragons rush at them. Garrosh, Dontrag, and Utvoch step in to intercept them and start to fight them back, with Mokvar and Faranell casting spells at them from behind.
The Lich King continues channeling. After a few seconds, Jaina’s body rises from the floor; her hair has turned white save for a single blonde streak, and her eyes shimmer with a lifeless blue glow. She looks around the room, then faces the Lich King.
JAINA: A-Arthas…?
LICH KING: I have missed you…my Queen.
Jaina grins hideously, turns, and unleashes an enormous fireball that incinerates two of the dragons on its way toward Faranell.
DONTRAG: Doc!
UTVOCH: Look out!
Dontrag lunges at Faranell while Utvoch rushes in from the opposite side. Dontrag shoves Faranell out of the fireball’s path, just before the flames reduce both him and Utvoch to smoldering heaps of ash.
DRANOSH: Edwin! Jaina was our ride out. That’s your job now – port us out of here, and fast!
FARANELL: But— I’m not that powerful a mage!
Dranosh shoves the Focusing Iris into Faranell’s hands; a bluish white glow shimmers over his body.
DRANOSH: You are now. Fire it up!
Garrosh and Mokvar – both fighting dragons – back up toward Dranosh and Faranell. Faranell closes his eyes, mutters an incantation, and teleports the group away in a blinding flash.
We reappeared up on the ring platform where we’d docked – a few yards off from Jaina’s targeting rune, but hey, I’m not going to nitpick over a clutch save from Edwin. When we appeared, we were greeted by the sight of an enormous pile of Scourge corpses that formed a hill leading up to the Windrunner. Dozens of vargul, hundreds of ghouls and skeletons, val’kyr, geists, a couple frost wyrms…and sitting on top of the pile were Liadrin and Saurfang, taking turns drinking from a waterskin.
LIADRIN: <looks up at them> What kept you?
DRANOSH: We had guests.
GARROSH: Come on, everyone get on the ship.
SAURFANG: Where are the others? Lady Proudmoore, and the…cerebrally inexpansive duo?
GARROSH: They didn’t make it.
SAURFANG: What happened?
DRANOSH: Arthas is here.
LIADRIN: By the Light… Get on board, and quickly!
GARROSH: What happened to you not being worried?
LIADRIN: I wasn’t.
DRANOSH: Fire it up, Captain! Top speed to Dalaran!
The group boards the Windrunner, which disembarks from the platform. After a moment, the ship shakes and creaks, then begins to slide slowly backwards.
DRANOSH: Um, Drok? I don’t think I said anything about reverse.
DROK: We’re still on full ahead, sir, I don’t—
GARROSH: Uh, I think you guys might want to have a look at this…
They turn to look back at the ring platform, where the Lich King now stands, channeling a dark purple band of energy from his hand that grips the gunship, and using it to slowly tug the ship back toward the Nexus.
MOKVAR: He’s— he’s death-gripping the ship! How is he death-gripping the whole ship?!
DRANOSH: Drok, this would be a good time to give the engines a little extra – we’ve got to get out of here!
DROK: I’m giving them everything she’s got, sir! I can’t change the laws of physics!
Saurfang stands at the railing, watching as the Lich King slowly drags the gunship back toward him. Saurfang looks back at Dranosh, then to Garrosh.
SAURFANG: He’s looked out for you since you were children.
Garrosh gives a quizzical look, then nods.
Look out for him now.
Saurfang turns and launches himself off the deck, toward the platform below.
FOR THE HORDE!
Saurfang barrels into the Lich King and they both crash onto the floor. With the Lich King’s death grip broken, the gunship lurches forward again and starts to pull away from the Nexus.
DRANOSH: Father! No!
Garrosh intercepts Dranosh as he rushes to the edge of the ship and pulls him back.
GARROSH: Get us OUT of here, Captain!
DRANOSH: <spinning back toward Drok, still in Garrosh’s grip> No! Turn us around, Drok, we have to—
Garrosh spins Dranosh back to face him.
GARROSH: You know what he’s doing! DON’T LET IT BE FOR NOTHING!
Dranosh stops struggling. Garrosh releases him, and as the gunship continues its escape, he walks to the railing and looks down at the platform, where the Lich King knocks Saurfang away from him.
LICH KING: Foolish old orc! You dare stand against me? Do you know how many of your kind I’ve slain?
SAURFANG: You…murdered…children. <draws his axe> You answer to Saurfang now!
Saurfang charges the Lich King furiously, cleaving and slashing with his axe. The Lich King parries with Frostmourne, and the two grapple back and forth as the platform shrinks from view.
I’m writing from the Windrunner now. We should reach Dalaran soon. I’ll update again when I can, if the news is good. If it isn’t, I’m not sure how much longer I’ll be here to keep updating.
In the meantime, we continue on our way to Dalaran.
In silence.
[Header image of the Nexus provided by regular reader and commenter ZugZug. Gunship image provided by Rioriel from Postcards From Azeroth; click here to see the souped-up Postcard version! Both images used with permission and many thanks.]
The parting of ways
Dranosh and the others arrived with the Windrunner this morning, along with a surprise – Jaina Proudmoore. The message I’d sent to Dranosh in Theramore said there’s a chance to fix things but we need to get the Focusing Iris from Northrend, and when Jaina heard that part, she volunteered – check that, insisted – she join the party. Imagine my delight. Still, the enemy of my enemy, I guess.
So far this morning, we’ve had an uncharacteristic run of mostly good news. Based on the head counts, most of the civilians got out of Orgrimmar in time. Military losses were heavy – in addition to Vol’jin and Zaela, it turns out Nazgrim didn’t make it out – but still not as disastrous as they could have been. Dranosh brought the remaining civilians – Horde and Theramore alike – with him along with a few support officers. Thunder Bluff is farther from the combat zone, it’s separated by natural barriers, and its position on these mesas makes it easier to defend. There really isn’t anywhere SAFE to tuck away the civilians anymore, but this is the safest of unsafe options.
The better news is that a couple hours into scouring the city this morning, Utvoch earned his keep and spotted Edwin over on the Spirit Rise. He’s spooked as all hell, no surprise – he got dropped into this world just in time for the attack on Orgrimmar, without warning or context or any friends from the Caverns of Time to help make sense of it for him. I’ll try to start filling in some of the blanks for him on the way to Northrend. Gotta say, I’m not looking forward to explaining how his brother fits into all this.
Other than loading up the Windrunner with a few supplies, there’s just one piece of business to tend to.
CAIRNE: I understand the honor you show me today, Warchief, and I will strive to be worthy of it. As I have watched over the tauren, so too will I watch over the people of the Horde.
DRANOSH: I’m hopeful that we’ll return soon successfully. But if we don’t, I need to be sure that our people will be left in good hands. Now they will. May the spirits guide you, Cairne. Let everything you do be done for the Horde.
Dranosh salutes Cairne. Cairne responds in kind.
They’re yours now, Warchief Bloodhoof. Lead them well. Aka’Magosh – for the Horde!
CAIRNE: For the Horde.
ALL ASSEMBLED: For the Horde!
DRANOSH: <clasping Cairne’s hand> I hate to abdicate and run, but I have a few last preparations to make before we go.
CAIRNE: I understand, Warchief.
DRANOSH: <grins and walks away> Call me Dranosh.
Dranosh walks off. Garrosh approaches Cairne.
GARROSH: I should probably go help him in a minute.
CAIRNE: You have important work ahead of you, I know.
GARROSH: <glancing around and nodding> So many things that aren’t what they should be.
CAIRNE: Overlord, if I may offer a word of counsel?
Garrosh nods.
Do not trouble yourself so deeply over what should be. It is something I have noticed in you, Garrosh – your readiness to point to what should be, and recoil against the world for failing to be so. As if it has wronged you. It is, I suspect, the source of so much of your anger, your impatience, your…
GARROSH: <faintly grinning> Are you saying I have a temper?
CAIRNE: You’ve heard this before?
Garrosh chuckles.
I merely mean to say, Garrosh, that there is little to be gained in fretting away one’s life with should be. “I should be higher rank by now.” “This land should be ours.” “He should agree.” “She should love me.” There is no should be; there is only is. And there is no deeper well of discontent, no darker shadow to impoverish our lives as they are, then a misguided sense of should be to nag at us by false compare. “Should be”: so simple a phrase to nourish so many agonies of the spirit.
Cairne hesitates a moment, then tilts his head with the hint of a smile.
Pardon me, I prattle on. You’ll forgive an old man his ramblings.
GARROSH: You wear it a lot better than Tirion ever did. <pauses, then grins sadly> I think I should have listened to you more.
CAIRNE: There you go again. <smiles> But you are listening now.
GARROSH: Well, hopefully you’ll let one more “should be” slide. <looks up at Cairne a moment, then offers his hand> Dranosh made the right choice. You should be Warchief.
CAIRNE: <gripping Garrosh’s hand> And so I am. In this, for once, you need not torment yourself, my young friend.
Garrosh looks around briefly.
GARROSH: I don’t know if we’ll be back here again.
CAIRNE: Nonsense. I have every confidence you will be successful, Garrosh.
GARROSH: <looks at Cairne uncomfortably> Still. Just in case. <stares at him a moment more> I don’t think I’ve told you that I admire you. If you don’t see me again…know that honor and respect for you went with me to the end of my days.
CAIRNE: <nods slowly> May they be many, Overlord. And thank you.
I left Cairne and made my way over to the docking station on the Spirit Rise to meet Dranosh. When I got there, he was standing on the edge of the rise, overlooking western Mulgore, and in the middle of a rather pointed discussion with…ahem…a familiar face.
DRANOSH: I understand your concerns, General, but I’m confident in Warlord Cromush’s forces at the new front.
KROM’GAR: I simply don’t see the wisdom of taking one of our newer gunships out of the fight in order to go on – I’m sorry – some fool’s errand in Northrend.
DRANOSH: Overlord Hellscream assures me—
KROM’GAR: Overlord Hellscream, as far as we know, may simply be putting as much distance as possible between himself and death by inventing some secret mission to fly off to!
DRANOSH: I’m going as well, Krom’gar. Are you going to accuse me of cowardice, too?
KROM’GAR: Begging your pardon, sir, but—
DRANOSH: Let me be frank, General. With the state of affairs in Kalimdor, one more gunship will not make much difference here. But one gunship in Northrend might be able to put an end to this mess before it’s even started.
KROM’GAR: But how, sir? Why do you even believe—
As Dranosh and Krom’gar talk, Garrosh walks over to them. Before Krom’gar can finish his sentence, Garrosh steps up next to him and casually shoves him off the edge of the rise, sending him plummeting to the ground far below.
GARROSH: Don’t listen to that guy. He’s a dick.
DRANOSH: <blinks a moment and glances over the edge> Wow, you really don’t like him, do you?
GARROSH: Let’s just say we have some history. Or did.
DRANOSH: Lucky for you I was considering the same thing when he started calling you a coward.
Garrosh looks over at the Windrunner being loaded with supplies.
GARROSH: You know…this mission we’re going on… I know I haven’t exactly been open about a lot of the details. I’m figuring based on where I had to go for information that you can guess some of the reason why. And yeah, there are some details going on here that I really can’t tell you, but you have to understand—
DRANOSH: How long have you known me?
GARROSH: Huh?
DRANOSH: Since we were, what, six? How many times has one of us saved the other’s neck? You’re telling me we need to do this. You think I need more than that? It’s getting done, period. You don’t need to sell me, Garrosh. I trust you with my life.
I’m going to skip over the part where I looked over the edge for a second and wondered if Krom’gar could use some company in splat-land.
Oh, but also, speaking of Krom’gar, it bears repeating:
Anyway. Here’s the plan from this point: we’re taking off for Northrend within the hour, and will rendezvous with Liadrin and the rest of our people at the Argent Vanguard. We’re keeping the group relatively small – me, Dranosh, Mokvar. Edwin. Captain Drok, obviously, since the Windrunner is his ship, plus a minimal crew to operate it. Dontrag, Utvoch…Jaina…you’ll notice who I just lumped together there. Jaina’s put her Kirin Tor friends on notice, so once we get the Focusing Iris from Coldarra, we’ll high-tail it to Dalaran, where they’ll be able to port us directly to the Caverns of Time. From there, with any luck, it’ll be a short trip to Normal-ville.
Time for me to get on board. More updates soon.
[Header image of Thunder Bluff provided by Angelya from Revive and Rejuvenate. “Dismissed” image provided by Rades from Orcish Army Knife. Both images used here with permission and many thanks.]
The fire in which we burn
Dranosh left with the Windrunner for Theramore. He brought Dontrag and Utvoch, which, I mean, I know this is really no time for jokes, but…HAHA! Poor fucker. Anyway, he’s going to see if he can find Faranell there, or in Thunder Bluff if need be. One way or another, Mokvar and I will meet him there when we’re done on our end.
We got Mokvar hooked up with a wyvern, and we both flew down from Ashenvale to Tanaris. Soridormi was there to greet us when we arrived at the Caverns of Time.
SORIDORMI: Overlord. Or do you still prefer “Warchief” in this reality? It’s so hard to know what to call certain people.
GARROSH: Doesn’t matter. Call me whatever.
SORIDORMI: Oh? So if I decide “Roshy” has a nice ring to it…?
GARROSH: Don’t get clever.
SORIDORMI: <wry grin> I’m afraid it’s far too late for that.
GARROSH: <grumbles> Fine, whatever. While you’re being all smug and smart, though, how about this – last time I was here, seems to me you might have, you know, neglected to mention a few minor details about this world.
SORIDORMI: In fairness, I did tell you all that there were other events that played out differently.
GARROSH: Which you totally made sound like “I’m just glossing over this since it’s not really that important.”
SORIDORMI: Did I? Hardly. Every moment is important, Garrosh. But at the time, there was no telling how much longer I had to detail matters further. We were – if you’ll pardon the expression – working on borrowed time.
GARROSH: And now?
SORIDORMI: This timeline has taken…a much firmer hold.
MOKVAR: The last few times we’ve shifted, our time here has gotten longer, and our time in the original timeline has gotten shorter…
SORIDORMI: <nods> This timeline is taking over as the predominant one. That overwriting of your reality will soon be complete, if it isn’t already.
GARROSH: Well then, since we’re in like 2% less of a rush now, how about you fill in a few gaps for us. Starting with, say, why it is that Orgrimmar is overrun right now by the Burning Legion and the Scourge, both of which we had pretty well under control last I checked.
SORIDORMI: In both cases, everything hinges on certain unexpected events involving the Battle of the Wrathgate.
GARROSH: Go on…
SORIDORMI: After the Alliance and Horde set aside their petty conflicts and united against the Lich King, Tirion Fordring’s Argent Crusade was able to assemble a strike force of the greatest champions from both factions. The team that Fordring would lead into Icecrown Citadel for the final assault would be far mightier even than the one that defeated Arthas in your timeline.
GARROSH: Okay, so I’m not seeing how that leads to things being WORSE.
SORIDORMI: It didn’t, at first. But you’ll recall, in the time leading up to the attack, the Lich King’s chief researcher was not Professor Putricide – Patrick Faranell – but Putress.
Soridormi holds out her hand and summons an image of Rotface and Festergut.
IMAGE OF ROTFACE: Daddy make toys out of you! WEEEEEE!
IMAGE OF FESTERGUT: Dead, dead, dead! Daddy, I did it!
SORIDORMI: Putricide’s most formidable creations, while strong, were ultimately…limited. Undermined by a lingering sentimentality that Putricide would carry into undeath from another life.
She shakes her hand, and the image changes to that of Patrick Faranell.
IMAGE OF PATRICK: Between you, me, and the walls, I’d rather like to have a couple sons… I remember how much Dad seemed to enjoy himself with us.
SORIDORMI: Putress’ malevolent ingenuity would have no such…humanity to temper it. He would furnish the Lich King with constructs more monstrous and strains of blight more virulent than anything known to your timeline.
GARROSH: Um, didn’t I ask you THIS VERY THING about Putress the last time?
SORIDORMI: You did. I didn’t give you an answer.
GARROSH: INDEED YOU DIDN’T.
MOKVAR: I think we might have distracted her, actually.
GARROSH: Whose side are you on?
MOKVAR: I’m on the side of us not standing around bickering over who said what and why.
GARROSH: Fine. So Putress invented some powerful shit, boy, don’t know why you never thought of that, Garrosh, go on please.
SORIDORMI: Strengthened by Putress’ creations, the Lich King would ultimately defeat Fordring’s even mightier strike force.
MOKVAR: So some of the most powerful heroes against the Scourge, from the Horde and Alliance, were all killed.
SORIDORMI: <pauses grimly> It would have been a kindness had they merely been killed.
Soridormi waves her hand, summoning a likeness of the Lich King.
IMAGE OF THE LICH KING: You trained them well, Fordring. You delivered the greatest fighting force this world has ever known…right into my hands – exactly as I intended.
MOKVAR: By the spirits…
GARROSH: He raised them as his minions…
SORIDORMI: And then killed Tirion Fordring. <closes her eyes a moment> And then raised him…
IMAGE OF THE LICH KING: You could’ve been my greatest champion, Fordring. A force of darkness that would wash over this world and deliver it into a new age of strife.
SORIDORMI: …to lead his new army of Deathbringers.
Garrosh and Mokvar exchange troubled looks.
GARROSH: Okay… Bad news part one done… Now what about the demons?
SORIDORMI: A further consequence of the defeat in Icecrown Citadel… You may recall, in your time, after the fall of the Lich King, some of his former minions would find for themselves…new allegiances.
Soridormi conjures a shimmering likeness of Sylvanas Windrunner.
IMAGE OF SYLVANAS: With the death of the Lich King, many of the more intelligent Scourge became…unemployed… They are under my command now…
SORIDORMI: With the Lich King victorious, the val’kyr would never ally themselves with Sylvanas. Which would prove…unfortunate for the Forsaken.
Soridormi waves her hand. Above her palm appears an image of Sylvanas with Lord Godfrey and High Warlord Cromush at the Greymane Wall.
IMAGE OF SYLVANAS: Soldiers of the Horde! We are victorious! Lordaeron is w—
The image of Lord Godfrey draws a pistol and shoots Sylvanas point-blank. She immediately falls dead on the ground.
IMAGE OF CROMUSH: What have you done, Godfrey?!
IMAGE OF GODFREY: Something that should have been done a long time ago, you filthy animal. Gilneas belongs to me, and so soon will the rest of Lordaeron!
SORIDORMI: In your timeline, Sylvanas was resurrected by her val’kyr servants. Here, she had no val’kyr to save her. Sylvanas Windrunner died – for the second and final time. In the aftermath of her death, leadership of the Undercity would pass to Sylvanas’ second, her majordomo of several years.
The nathrezim Varimathras.
GARROSH: Varimathras? How? He’s…dead…oh no…
MOKVAR: <head sinks> The Wrathgate…
SORIDORMI: <nods> Without Putress in the Undercity, Varimathras had no collaborator with whom to conspire against the Banshee Queen. There was never a coup against Sylvanas. And without the coup against Sylvanas, Varimathras was never exposed as the traitor he was — his true loyalties to the Burning Legion never revealed. He carried on unimpeded, not only free to continue his scheming in the Undercity, but eventually becoming its leader. Much time did not pass before he carried out his master plan…
She waves her hand again, summoning the fiery red likeness of a monstrous eredar.
…and summoned Kil’jaeden the Deceiver into this world. Bringing with him countless legions of demons from the Twisted Nether. Bringing with him the Second Fall of Lordaeron. Most of the Eastern Kingdoms was soon to follow.
GARROSH: Fucking hell…
MOKVAR: Soridormi… Edwin is in this world now, we think. If we can get him here, is there still time to undo all this?
SORIDORMI: If we can get him back to Southshore, we should be able to reset the timelines with both Edwins at the points they need to be.
GARROSH: Okay, great, so we’ll just collect him and get him down here and—
SORIDORMI: Actually getting him to old Southshore, though, is no easy task, and not without problems.
GARROSH: Dammit, I thought if I said that fast enough we could get out before the “but” kicked in.
MOKVAR: What’s the problem?
SORIDORMI: Sending Edwin back to period to which he’s already time-traveled involves crossing his own timeline in ways that no mortal was meant to do.
GARROSH: Ah…the whole “no double-dipping” thing.
SORIDORMI: To open a stable time portal for such a repeat incursion will require me to channel immense amounts of power – far more than I can summon up myself.
GARROSH: What about the Noz? He’s the head honcho time guy anyway, couldn’t he pull it off?
SORIDORMI: I am…the most powerful member of the Bronze Flight here.
GARROSH: How does that work? I mean I get that you’ve got this secret super time vision and whatever, but no offense, how did you get to be more powerful than Noz?
MOKVAR: Garrosh…
SORIDORMI: I’m not.
GARROSH: So what gives? Where is he, any…oh…oh no…
SORIDORMI: <looks down a moment> For a number of reasons…the final confrontation with Deathwing proved…far more costly in this timeline than in the other.
GARROSH: I… Wow do I feel like a jackass.
MOKVAR: This is what it finally took, huh?
GARROSH: So…we need a power source to tap into, then?
SORIDORMI: That’s right.
Garrosh stares off to one side, thinking anxiously.
MOKVAR: Not to bring up bad memories, Soridormi, but I don’t suppose the Dragon Soul is an option?
SORIDORMI: I would be, yes…
GARROSH: Okay, so—
SORIDORMI: Except that it has already been returned to its own time, and retrieving it a second time would involve the type of crossing of timelines that we need the power source for in the first place.
GARROSH: Okay, seriously, you’ve got to start leading with the “but” part of these answers.
MOKVAR: What about the spell book that Malchezaar used to bring the demons into Orgrimmar?
SORIDORMI: <shakes her head> The Book of Medivh is a powerful source of portal magic, for portals within this reality, but hardly helpful for the kind of temporal manipulation we’re undertaking.
GARROSH: <staring down, hesitant> What about…the Focusing Iris? From the Eye of Eternity?
SORIDORMI: <nods slowly> The Focusing Iris would work, yes. As a dragon relic, in fact, it should lend itself all the more easily to my use.
MOKVAR: Do we know where it is now?
GARROSH: The Blue Dragonflight is keeping it in Coldarra.
SORIDORMI: I will give you my talisman to show to the blues. They will give you the Iris if they know you’ve been sent by me. They’ll know I would not ask were the need not dire.
GARROSH: Okay then. I think we have a plan.
SORIDORMI: Indeed, Warchief.
GARROSH: You know what? Just call me Garrosh. People calling me “Warchief” here either gets confusing like with Utvoch earlier, or it’s just creepy like with Malchezaar.
MOKVAR: We should probably get go—
SORIDORMI: Wait, Garrosh – Malchezaar saw you, and called you “Warchief”?
GARROSH: Yeah, why?
SORIDORMI: <fidgets with her hands nervously> You need to go. Now. Take my talisman and get to Northrend quickly to recover the Focusing Iris.
MOKVAR: Why? What is it?
GARROSH: I’ve really kind of had my fill of flying blind around here. What’s got you spooked all of a sudden?
SORIDORMI: The Netherspace where Malchezaar dwelled was a distorted region of time.
GARROSH: Right, I know. Time loop, round and round, now he’s dead, now he’s not, boom. So what?
SORIDORMI: The Netherspace rests at the intersection of countless times. Those who dwell there can see into the different realities – bits and pieces, usually, but one never knows. If Malchezaar knows to call you “Warchief,” he has seen your other world. And in that case, he may well know enough – or could deduce – how the worlds fit together and how they might be corrected.
MOKVAR: It would really be nice if there could be some stupid people on the bad guys’ side for a change…
SORIDORMI: The Burning Legion stands on the brink of a victory on Azeroth that it has coveted for millennia. If they realize what we’re doing, they will not stand idly by. We need to act quickly.
GARROSH: Got it. Be doing whatever you need to do to get ready, Soridormi. We’ll be back with Edwin and the Focusing Iris.
SORIDORMI: I hope so, Garrosh. Titans watch over you.
We winged it double-time to Thunder Bluff. I’m writing from there now. Dranosh and the others haven’t arrived yet, but I’ve sent a messenger to Theramore with the barest bare-bones of what we need to do. I’m guessing he’ll be headed here by nightfall, morning at the latest, and then we can get moving.
Next stop, Northrend.
[Sylvanas and Kil’jaeden images above provided by Rioriel from Postcards From Azeroth, reproduced here with permission and many thanks. Click on the links in the previous sentence to see the souped-up Postcards versions!]
